H Two Uh Oh.....

Chemistry..

Law...

one of those things I've never been good at.

Something bad has occurred, something really really bad.  Of course this is in reference to the situation that started back in March/April; for those of you who know about and have been following.  Yes, the situation is still going on, no I haven't heard anything new other than to just keep waiting.  Just keep waiting to get results back I know will further prove I didn't do anything.

Then life says, hold that thought....

This week work sent me to a class/workshop thing to learn about using a new program for our department.  It was a pilot course, but nobody really cares.  The main point is, not being at my normal place of work, I am sans all my stuff; desk full of goodies, snacks, water, etc.  That being said, knowing how thirsty I get on a daily basis, and knowing I wouldn't have access to anything like I normally would during the class, I made a walking out the door decision I'd soon regret...

As I made up my breakfast togo I remembered about the drink situation.  I looked around for any random Powerade bottles I still may be have hiding around; but recalled finishing those but a month after moving in here.  I make my way to the fridge and open the door - it's really awkward for me, I've never been a fan of having the freezer on the bottom.  Once open I scan the contents.  Food items, condiments, some milk, couple pony kegs of some Michigan love, more beer, a bottle of champagne I plan to pop once I get the results back and my name is cleared, fruit....

as my search starts dwindling down, my eyes slide over to a spot tucked away in the corner of the door...bottom shelf, almost hidden for the fact the door doesn't open all the way due to the proportions of the fridge versus the kitchen.   I catch two bottles of water tucked away, for not so obvious reasons I will make known now.  The larger bottle, one litre, is over a year old now, and has been resting in my fridge since an ill-fated day in September.  The night my little drummer girl was supposed to come over, a night that changed things for her.  I suppose I never got rid of that bottle because I could never let go of her; it represents something more; and if I were to remove that from my life, vicariously I'd be removing any possibility, any hope..I'd be removing her, forever...and I obviously don't want that (even given the current situation where that's exactly she wants).

The other bottle, smaller, has been snuggled along that larger bottle, though not as long - it came from a work outing, Family Fun Day; bounce houses, putt-putt, and good times. There were originally two bottles, maybe more but memory serves me to think two placed in my fridge for hydration, that I took home with me from that event.  Maybe another was left in my car or whatever, but two for certain stayed in the fridge.

All that remains is the one, because the other is involved in a conspiracy, a lie..(I really wish I could call it Watergate but that's already been taken...)  You see, the bottle that remains is the sister bottle to the bottle of water I gave a Maker of Shoes, the one whose flavor was flawed, the one I allegedly, though unopened, tampered.

Having no other options I made picked a dumb option;  I took the small bottle with the implication I'd get something from the PX on my break, as this water bottle would quickly disappear....or so I thought.

I make it to class, get settled into my workstation, and before the class even gets underway I crack open the bottle for a drink.  One taste is all it took for my mouth to reject the bottle, pulling my head away and twisting it with confusion to the left.  "What the fuck?" I said aloud, getting the attention of the student on my left.  With his eyes now fixed onto my doings I decide to try again, maybe I just had something in my mouth...but the results were the same.  I'm starting to panic.  I turn and pass the bottle to my left, asking the fellow student to "here, try this" and with no hesitation other than saying why as he puts the bottle up to his mouth, he tries it as well.  "It tastes...off"

There's nothing more than I want to do at this moment than run out of the classroom and leave...but that will do me no good.  And for the next three and a half hours my mind is not in that classroom, not on the information we are going over, but fixated on that bottle sitting in front of me..and everything it represents.

On my break I go back home where I have another person try the bottle...later that evening two more people try a swig...all stating the same thing, some more in-depth about the flavors, but the consensus stands...there's something wrong with the water.

The confirmation from the last sampler is enough to send my mind spiraling downward.  All these horrible thoughts run through my head, suddenly my unquestionable innocence is showing signs of contest.

If the sister bottle is anything like the bottle she drank, than yes, there's something wrong with it...what, I'm not certain..though I know it didn't make me or anyone else sick for that matter.  Of course I don't have any other bottle to test or have tested, and bringing in an opened bottle to test would cause some concern...

I just want this nightmare to be over..I just wish this would all end and go away...I wish she would talk to me..as this is my only way to talk to her..

Truth is like the sun...you can shut it out for a time, but it ain't going away... 

"Last time water was turned into something it was wine, you have nothing to worry about, you're fine..."

Blogger Life

Jen..

you..

in?

Yes. My blog is hosted by google, the blog is written in blogger, bought out by google, and the email address that is attached to this blog is run by google. That being said, every now and then I will receive email notifications from google about my blog; mainly, when people are brought to my site because they google searched something.

I typically no longer give notic

e to these emails after seeing a disturbing trend in them. Apparently there are a lot more sick people out there in the world, and I was just made light of the situation. Most of the hits my blog gets are from people searching "kids in tighty whities" (this is sure to get me even more creepy hit results now...fail).

Now immediately i know what you are thinking, there are two questions posed here, and I'll answer one. Why does my blog come up as a result for that creeptastic search? Well, it dates back to a post somewhere around 2004? It wasn't even a real post but one of those stupid online quizes I much so loved to post when I had nothing else to say...However, the real questions remains...why are people searching that stuff?! I feel dirty just for being in association with it.

However, all this leads me up to another story. This morning I awoke to the sound of my alarm on my phone going off. And as I do every morning, I dismiss the alarm, which opens the phone, and I see all my nightly notifications - texts, facebook, emails, etc. I use these notifications as a waking up method, checking and dismissing them, deleting, until they all go away..hopefully gaining some awareness in the process, making my rise a little more loose. This morning I was blessed with one of the google update emails about my blog. And in my fumbling process wherein i continue to miss the trash can button with my finger over and over I read more and more of the email. This weeks searches caught my idle eye.

It seems as though if one were to search "fucked his daughter in the ass" not only would my blog show up, but it would be the number 1 hit - of course I think for hilarity it should be number 2, but let's not get anal about it. Of course the post it references was back when I went to court for my dog, which is also an infamous post that still leaves a certain someone a little unsettled. Of course this is my morning delight and I share it with the world via my twitter. Naturally, one of followers is offended, which of course just so happens to be the person of which the post is about. This, as you can probably guess, starts a fight - if there's one constant in my life, it's that the things I say get me in trouble...today is no different, even if they are new words speaking of old words.

my readers comment to my tweet stirred up my wit, as i responded with a sly monty hall proposition. You see, this reader wants that amazing post deleted, removed, erased from existence; and as all of you know by now, I am not one to just edit myself (unlike certain people who try and photochop their lives to fit whatever emotion is the current trend that day for them) So I suggest that I'd be more than willing blot out the blog post should one pass on the papillon. This does not go over well as you would imagine, and results in another chirping attack proclaiming the reader has paid me for the dog and is therefore theirs..true, but again, that was after the courts decreed proper ownership was mine..but you know what, I paid my dues to host that post, so I guess if she wants to buy that post as well she can too do.

I offered a compromise on a stance I typically don't move on, I thought I was being a good guy, but that's the problem with being real, people really don't like it. I post, and I don't correct - like i always say, this is a one time sit and rant style of blogging..i won't go back and edit things for my approval, and I sure as shit won't do it for yours. What I felt then was how I felt and it remains in the past..unless you try to kick up that dirt. Sure you can try and delete those comments, posts, pictures, and everything else that built your little world up at the drop of a hat because you lost your god damned mind..but it doesn't make it from ever existing...and though you try to block out those details and hide in the dark, the light of truth burns like a thousand eternal suns...but you are no Eloisa..

What has been seen cannot be unscene; what has been felt cannot be unpenned, what has been willed cannot be unquilled.

"How happy is the blameless vestal's lot! The world forgetting, by the world forgot."

Hole in Your Seoul

The girls I've dated..
where are they now…

the stats don't lie

I had an interesting text conversation last night..and if I were to go off into one of my angry rants like I typically would, it would be obvious to the person whom I was talking about..among other things..that so much isn't the bother as the fact I had been holing off on a blog that..not necessarily foreshadowed things, but maybe it would have done just that.

Anyway, let's just go with it…

In the past I know I've pointed out how my exes have certain tendencies. Maybe I've mentioned little things in conversation..maybe I've hinted to things in blogs, but I don't think I've ever directly come out and made my allegations/theories/whatever out with a documented timestamp for all to see..let's begin.

The one that I'll reference the most is the "Next Guy Postulate" - which basically states the correlation of the breakup with me and the next guy said ex-girlfriend starts dating will be the one she gets engaged/married too (engage is stated because on several occasions the engagement did not make it to the married state so for statistical purposes it is listed as such) ((I think what's even worse is the amount of those guys with the name Jason..but because that's too much of a mind fuck I'd just like to overlook any of those findings..)). That's right, I am the Good Luck Chuck if you will..or as my friend Citron would say..the Ricker(?) (I don't know, she claims there's this movie that has a similar plot as Good Luck Chuck only starring the awesome Paul Rudd…I have to see this for myself…) ANYWAY - I have a pretty staggering percentage of girls that go from me to engaged/married..let's just say it's over the half mark..sadly close to the three quarter mark in fact…if you're not apart of that group, lord only knows what you are doing wrong…

What's even more awesome than that, somewhere in the midst of those statistics there's a name listed twice….twice you say, is this some sort of typo to inflate your stats..sadly, no. In fact she was my first "engaged" stat; after me, she met a guy, and got engaged not too long after that…for whatever reason that relationship ended and years down the road we met up again…only to have her leave me, again, for some other guy, with whom she is now married to..and has a child with. awesome.

The second fun fact I'll bring up almost as frequently as much as the first fact is "Exes Get Ugly Syndrome" or EGUS if you're tracking…This syndrome isn't limited to just getting ugly, but encompasses a much larger issue…fat. Yes Exes Get Fat and Ugly Syndrome…EGF(a)US..Ohhh, of course if you were to ask them what they felt about this, they will ALL admit that they are not the ones that comprise of this stupid accusation…little do they realize.

Come on..you look like a chubby, scenester lesbian…or you could look down and ask where did those Kanckles come from..apparently it's hard maintaining your weight after me…

So if those aren't bad enough, the next one is a personally kicker..and maybe I don't talk about it all that much, maybe because it's insulting to me, but..the guys those ladies choose after me are..gah, what's the word I'm looking for…horrible..a disgrace..an insult to me! You know, if you're going to leave me, the least you could do is find someone better than me..shouldn't be too hard right?

But that's never the case..most are, wait no, ALL are not attractive by any means…not once have I saw one of my exes currents and was like, "well fuck, she did it right this time.." and I'm not the only one to see this. Others, females, have chimed in to say things like "really? Him?.." You ladies pick some of the ugliest and stupidest guys you can find after me..you compromise yourself to be with this next guy..I mean what the fuck…

You have these ugly guys, who you claim are tall yet are shorter than me, who confuse your/you're (among others), who's texts are illegible, who's Asian without an Asian last name, who's IQ you question because they can't keep up in simple conversation, who cheats on you, who goes to jail for dealing illegal drugs, who himself is fat, who becomes forceful/beats with you, who does things-like drugs-that you have been opposed to all your life..these are the types of guys you pick to be with over me

what the fuck is wrong with you?!

it's ok though..I don't stress because I refer back to statistic number two: you're an ugly mess too (or about to be one)

This was not my intended angry rant I spoke of earlier, however, this has been an angry rant by your one and only..or should i say "you're one and only" maybe then you'll like me..








"You should make the update that you're in a relationship with my middle finger..because FUCK YOU!"

Well Lookie Here

I guess I was wrong..
i was caught...

apparently i do tell a lie...

When it comes to talking about things, I'm known to never hold back - no topic ever seems too off the wall or controversial for me to take on. No issue has ever been too personal, from telling about my testicle surgery to some other embarrassing moment from my childhood, i'll discuss anything...I'm an open book. But then again, amidst all the talking about everything else there are only a handful of things I don't talk about so openly, and will more than likely avoid at all costs. One particular topic is, me.

"How are you doing?" A question we all ask in daily conversation, or at least some variation of it. When posed with this question more than likely I'll hand out an auto-response ranging from "meh" to "alright" - and then probably go into elaborate detail getting completely off topic. A distraction method that always works 99% of the time.

The topic of how I'm really feeling, what's really going on in my world, my mind, my whatever is such a scary private matter that I hardly ever want to address it. I can express many emotions, I wear my heart on my sleeve, I'll tell people when I'm upset, I'll scream things from rooftops...but when it comes to talking about me and feeling sad, forget about it.

Granted there are occasions that I'll open up - rare, rare occasions...usually involving alcohol or hitting absolute rock bottom or a combination of the both. I know I got that way around Christmas time this last year, it wasn't good.

Should those stars align and you get that call from me (possibly crying), know that shit has just got real..this is probably you're one and only actually gateway and insight into my mind...all those bottled up feelings and emotions have burst free and are on a one way trip out my mouth. please do me the advanced favor and take care of me in that time of need.

Then again I say take care of me as if you actually care - caring as indicated that you're actually there for me and won't in mid-breakdown decide that it's getting late and you have to get going...caring as indicated that even should you be as cold hearted as that you'll check back up the next day or so..caring as if when you finally do decide to "check up" two weeks later you start the conversation off with "i only have two minutes...is everything ok?"

If you only have two minutes, you don't have enough time for me to tell you anything..let alone get a sentence or two out...So when you ask me "is everything ok?" and I give you a response, know that it's a lie.

I lie because I don't matter anymore, so it doesn't either. The in-genuine random front of caring to earn back karma points, to help ease your own conscience of the wrongs that took place can come to a stop. I'm letting you know your community service is over...because I'm not a fucking charity case. If you cared you'd make the effort...but I knew better, so I hope you understand when I say I'm alright.

I never lied when I cared, but I did as soon as you stopped.



"Me-I'm good..
G - Are you lying?
Me - I'm good.."

Bad Boys Bad Boys

whatcha gonna do..
whachta gonna do when they are you?

Nobody wants to be the bad person, but sometimes you are..and you just can't admit it.

They say winners write history, and it's true. The winners are always prevailed to be the "good guys", but think about it the other way; had the other guys won, those bad guys would have been the heroes. When recanting the story of your life, or any story involving your life, you never want to be the bad guy; you tell "your" side of the story; you tell your friends who are obviously on your side; ultimately you are playing the victim card.

Guess what, you are the bad guy, just in someone else's story.

I'm not the typical friend some would say - as much as I'd drop everything for someone (even someone who turned their back on me) I won't play the typical friend card...as in, I'll tell it like it is, tell you the truth, say what your friends want to say but are too afraid to say it. In that sense I'll call people out like it's a hobby, in fact, I may as well add that to my FB hobbies list...

As the story goes I was calling out this flake of a friend who, for the life of her, could never organize plans to get together (let's not even get into the fact how bad of a text replyer she was...) Well after a random text from me she replies back, telling me that I make her feel like a bad person. I chuckle, and as the smile set in across my face i replied back. "I tell a non-fiction recalling your actions, and if those words upset you maybe you should go back to the source, yourself" Of course this did not go over well..not to bore you with the details, she tried to defend herself, bla bla bla...people will come up with reasons to not do something, as i always say, there's always a million reasons to not do something...I'm glad that others read my blog because that does remind me of a side story where someone once said, "if there's anything you taught me during our relationship it's if something is important you'll find a way.." Ok, we are way off topic..

Back to feeling like a bad person...she didn't feel like a bad person when she did those things, or rather not did those things...but it wasn't until someone kicked open the door in her head and called her out on it (I just like the visual of kicking her in her head..) And I know why she said it, same reason anyone says it, they start to see the truth, but heaven forbid they be the bad person, so they try to turn the tables onto you..call you manipulative, saying how badly you make them feel by saying that..and while most people would cave, I stand by my statements...not only have you fucked me over in the past, but you're going to try and make me the bad guy for getting upset over it?!

That's just some straight up bull.

And so when you go back to your friends, and continue to talk the shit about me, continuing to make me out to be the bad guy..you'll only be lying to yourself. Heck, when I tell a story and someone thinks the other person is the bad guy I am usually sticking up for that other person..but that's me...and I'm not as bad a person as you make me out to be.

Ironically enough, I was typing all this up when I received a text, late night 1am text, from a friend needing to vent. My friend wanted to talk to, as they said, verbatim, a 'sane' person...I scoffed and had to reply back asking "ME?!" followed with questioning whether or not I was the last on the list...my friend replied back telling me I was more sane than I give myself credit for...I say "I'm on the verge of k-exert deleted-f and you're calling me sane?!" And I get this as a response "You might have your own problems but you deal with others' well" ...

And that reminded me of a lot of things...How just earlier that same day another friend with whom I rarely speak to was having a rough day, or so they posted, and I texted to see what was up...and in fact that happened two days ago as well..and then it comes back to one of the greatest compliments I was ever indirectly given...

This goes back to my first year at CP...A friend who was also a current co-worker was having a random chat with a previous co-worker of mine on a lunch break or something...amoung the random discussions somehow I was brought up into the conversation, maybe the current co-worker asked the previous one what it was like to work with the Jangus..and this is what was said, "Jangus is a great guy..you just know that..because...he could have twenty of his own things going on and you'd ask him for help...and then he'd have 21." When my friend told me that, I was shocked...shocked because this previous co-worker of mine wasn't a buddy, I was never close with, heck, I probably kept my distance...but the fact that they recognized that, that I stood out in that way...that's what blew my mind.

So you see..I can be that deleted excerpt from your life, maybe a footnote, or a brief mention...heck, maybe I will get mentioned as the horrible person that ruined your life or some random crap you like to spill from your lips..but the truth of the matter is, I'm not..I'm not that guy...I'm not the bad guy...However, I am your escape goat. I'm what you manifest your own badness into so you, in your own story, can be the victim, the hero, the good guy.

It's not my fault I'm 'bad'....afterall, you made me this way...








"<3"

The Bloody Truth

You want the truth?!
You can't handle the truth!

No truth handler you! Bah! I deride your truth handling abilities!

It seems as much a a surprise to me as it should you, but people don't actually want the truth. I shall repeat it again, people do not want the truth. As much as people, society, searches to find the truth, truth of the matter is, it's not what they are really looking for.

Over this weekend I came into conversations that when the truth was presented, it was discredited as not being true. Now I know I've discussed how people don't want the truth before, maybe it was in blog or just casual conversation, but in light of a certain exchange I had late Friday evening my ears were more sensitive to people hating the truth.

I don't know how to make myself any clearer really. People tend to think I'm rude or an asshole because I say exactly what I'm thinking, what I'm feeling, and what I know to be right. People aren't used to that kind of straight-forwardness. But what's even crazier is the fact that people will, initially commend me for being an honest person...but once that truth is shocking, disrupts their little world, then my friends, then I am the one who is wrong.

I'll admit, maybe my tact is a little off, but I suppose when you are being direct, there's no appropriate way to sugar coat things. I m very bad at trying to beat around the bush, I find it's a waste of time. I'm not here to play reindeer games (like monopoly).

Let me let you all in on a little secret..If I speak it from my mouth it is the truth. Shhh, I know, crazy stuff right there. If in the middle of a conversation I say something, something that seems incomprehensible, sure, question it at first..but once i repeat it again mark it as the truth and accept it.

I made a statement to a friend, granted it was an "if then" statement but none-the-less it was something I stated, to which she replied "not true" - which actually really pissed me off. I don't know i the "not true" was an enticer to get me to go on about whatever I stated in more elaborate detail, but judging from the conversation I doubt it...she was acting as if she knew all truisms and apparently that wasn't one of them. I remember firing back to her with a "Yes true! Are you serious? I just said it...therefore I mean it. How can you say no to my feelings?" And just like that she had nothing.

How can one question the things I state as the truth..How can one question my feelings, my emotions, my being. "My perception is my reality" speech; if it's true to me, then it's fucking true.

People don't want to hear what they say they want to hear. I tell the truth and people's preconceived notions of me disintegrate...their brain farts, implodes as their worlds comes to a crashing halt. I'm sorry what you heard is not what you wanted to really hear, but that does not have any bearing on it's validity.

Attack the truth with all your anger, laugh contemptuously with ignorance at my truth, but there it will stay, indisputably. So enjoy the fiction you built you're world up around, because that has to make sense, whereas the strange truth (and love) doesn't.

And let's not even get religious on this one...








"In a controversy the instant we feel anger we have already ceased striving for the truth, and have begun striving for ourselves."

Truth

11/05

nobody wants to hear the truth..sure they may ask for it, search it out, but they don’t want the real truth...they want some pre-fabricated version of the truth manufactured by someone else made to fit their own ideals. I stop my walk on the trail and re-read text messages from the night prior...i’m not a fan of being guilted.

The texts tell me the ‘truth’ that those think I need to hear, the truth I should hear..it’s worthless...guilt falls off my mind like water on a duck’s back...you’re talking to the guy who told everyone he encountered that his mother was dead - the same person that still refers to her by her first name even now - all because she didn’t say goodbye...it’s not a grudge, it’s a mark that was left that I have to bear, it’s an everlasting scar I am reminded of everyday, but not a grudge.

I turn around, I’ve been out here long enough...do they want the truth? Hell, even if I were to give them my truth at this very moment they wouldn’t accept it as the truth...if I told them I could give a fuck about dinner plans, that I’d rather sleep in my car underneath the spotlight of a truckstop than to go back right now, they wouldn’t respect my decisions..call me thickheaded, call me the asshole....but even if I were to humor them and show, what the fuck good would that do - in a perfect world we would all go out and have a great time, but its far from perfect now...should I show to appease them, I’d just sit there, I wouldn’t talk, I’m not hungry, it’d be like bringing a corpse to the dinner table, and nobody likes that...

I hate when people are walking behind me - I know we are on the only path going in the same direction, I know they aren’t following me, but truth is, it bothers me

Truth is the sun is going down, ruining my photo session with nature...truth is the temperature has gone down twelve degrees in the past twenty-five minutes, truth is my nose is freazing, truth is I still don’t want to go.

Two females jog past me, the one on the left wearing an adidas pack on her back, the other with some clichéd workout slogan printed on the back of her shirt..truth is I hate running with a bag on my back...truth is I find those sloganed shirts to be the equivalent to fortune cookies for the weight room.

How far did I walk, this seems to be taking forever to get back to where I last shot any photos at the bridge...

Truth is, I don’t blog when I’m mad anymore - it’s probably for the best, I don’t want to offend anyone - oh wait, I do that already, whoops. Reviewing posts from the past, it seems as if I had instaneous access to the computer when I needed to rant - weird part is that I had a desktop back then..now I have a lappy and can’t get anything on here like I’d want to. I’d much rather give three smaller posts a day instead of one long recap, but now-a-days all I have is a two hour block once a day to get my writing in, if I’m lucky.

I’m back at the bridge, fire off a couple shots, yeah..the sun is making it next to impossible for me to get what I want, I continue my way back.

Truth is, I wish I had a mental recorder for the rants I give in my head...i didn’t even bring my digital recorder, or if I did, I don’t even know where it is...i really prefer what is in my head the first time I think it rather than brewing on it til I get to my computer only to hack it up via text.

I get back to my car, pull out my lappy and carry it on over to the park benches...i’m gonna try my best to get everything out on here...but truth is, my battery is dead..