Sometimes I am amazed by the lack of responsibility I seem to possess when it comes to caring for inanimate objects. Awhile back, I decided to fuck up my car. While turning my car on ice, I overcorrected my steering and slid sideways into a curb, thus obliterating two tires, two tire sensors, and two wheels. Throw in a screwed-up suspension and you have one hell of a sweet bill from your local car-fixy-place. It's also fun when your insurance adjuster calls to confirm where you have sent your broken car one morning only to not show up at confirmed location and therefore sticking you with the bill. However, car was seemingly fine after repairs and life went on...
Until about a week and a half later. Once again we find our heroine driving her beloved brand new car in wintry weather. Well, it wasn't exactly wintry at that moment but the remnants of the precipitation from the day before were still lurking. Enter in "big flying ice chunk" from semi a couple hundred feet up the interstate. "Big flying ice chunk" nosedives into the front of my vehicle on the passenger side. I worry about my tire once again being annihilated, only to discover the tire is fine but that a chunk of my front bumper around my fog lights is missing. A little part of me dies every time I walk by said damage. With any luck I'll still be alive next week.
Today, I tested out my new Christmas present: a vacuum. Please, please, hold the applause. For the first ten minutes this apparatus was among the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. Enter random strand of Christmas lights I run over with the vacuum. The air was saturated with the scent of death. When the vacuum powered down, I realized there had been two casualties: the lights and the vacuum. The vacuum is fixable as it just needs a new belt, but there will be no joy in vacuuming for me until I go retrieve said belt from a store.
Along with my dog having the runs, having no food in my fridge, and having to return to work once again tonight, I feel like someone would might they have sand in their vagina. Minus the physical sensation and much more of the angsty, emo-ridden, piss-and-vinegar-coursing-through-the-veins state of mind.
Sunday, December 28, 2008
Wednesday, December 17, 2008
Captain Jerkface
It's getting to be that time of year when my isolationist tendencies seem to get the best of me. For most of my life, I've probably fit of the profile of someone who is a "loner." I'm not a sad, emo "loner"; rather instead I'm just someone who has become extremely comfortable and accustomed to doing things on their own. I live alone, for the most part I'm sleeping alone, I'm eating alone, I'm watching TV alone, and I do other stuff alone. When my schedule allows for it, I socialize with friends. Granted it's the same three to five people I socialize with every time, but this typically doesn't bother me.
The last time I went back to my parents' house in my hometown, it dawned on me that none of the people I was hanging out with were there because of me; they were there to see my brother. This is fine as I have purposely not kept in touch with more than a handful of people from that town, none of whom are still in that area. However, it was also then I realized that the one good friend I still had there was someone I hadn't spoken to in what's probably closing in on one year.
Long story short, I am terrible at keeping in contact with others. Everyone promises to write or call or whatever and that lasts about one go-around before you never hear from them again. I am notorious for putting the burden of friendship maintenance on the other person, a quality that has caused some to label me as distant or indifferent, neither of which I purposely intended to be.
What is the protocol for trying to reconnect with old friends? Is there x amount of time that passes by before you should just accept bygones as bygones?
The last time I went back to my parents' house in my hometown, it dawned on me that none of the people I was hanging out with were there because of me; they were there to see my brother. This is fine as I have purposely not kept in touch with more than a handful of people from that town, none of whom are still in that area. However, it was also then I realized that the one good friend I still had there was someone I hadn't spoken to in what's probably closing in on one year.
Long story short, I am terrible at keeping in contact with others. Everyone promises to write or call or whatever and that lasts about one go-around before you never hear from them again. I am notorious for putting the burden of friendship maintenance on the other person, a quality that has caused some to label me as distant or indifferent, neither of which I purposely intended to be.
What is the protocol for trying to reconnect with old friends? Is there x amount of time that passes by before you should just accept bygones as bygones?
Thursday, December 4, 2008
Monday, November 10, 2008
Hidden talent
I am addicted to Wii Fit.
I've been using it for just over a month. I haven't lost as much weight as I would have liked to just yet, but what can you do? I love the verbal abuse it offers me when my weight has shifted up 0.2 pounds. It gets upset when I don't weigh in at the same time everyday. It knows when I've skipped a day. Basically, I'm answering to a little white box with a brain. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Wii.
During my foray into interactive fitness, I've stumbled upon an activity I gave up a long time ago: running. Okay, it's not really "running". It's jogging or something like that. Essentially I'm moving at a slightly elevated pace compared to walking. I was in track in middle school. I wasn't even a runner then; I just threw shotput and discus. Take that back; I ran the 800 once.
One of the activities on the Wii Fit is a Free Run. In this exercise you are allowed torun jog at your own pace. On the screen you can see yourself running on a course along side other Miis. I don't know if it's trying to make me feel better by having this ridiculously uncoordinated Mii fall down every five minutes, but whatever, at least I'm not that guy. You jog in place for a set time limit. I set it for 10 minutes the other day, thinking I'd either grow bored or hate the exercise with the fire of a thousand suns.
To my surprise, I liked it. Much of this must be credited to my iPod, but afterwards I felt as though I'd done something really good. My legs were not the Jell-o jigglers I thought they might be. I felt invigorated and moderately satisfied. I dare say I might have actually been a runner in another lifetime. I'm not quite sure if this feat could be accomplished without my iPod but I'd certainly give it a try. My goal is to work towards maintaining a steady pace and by next spring, I might just try the real thing outdoors.
In the mean time, I'll be the idiot running in front of my TV, trying not to trip over the other Miis who fail to stay upright for two minutes at a time.
I've been using it for just over a month. I haven't lost as much weight as I would have liked to just yet, but what can you do? I love the verbal abuse it offers me when my weight has shifted up 0.2 pounds. It gets upset when I don't weigh in at the same time everyday. It knows when I've skipped a day. Basically, I'm answering to a little white box with a brain. Hell hath no fury like a pissed off Wii.
During my foray into interactive fitness, I've stumbled upon an activity I gave up a long time ago: running. Okay, it's not really "running". It's jogging or something like that. Essentially I'm moving at a slightly elevated pace compared to walking. I was in track in middle school. I wasn't even a runner then; I just threw shotput and discus. Take that back; I ran the 800 once.
One of the activities on the Wii Fit is a Free Run. In this exercise you are allowed to
To my surprise, I liked it. Much of this must be credited to my iPod, but afterwards I felt as though I'd done something really good. My legs were not the Jell-o jigglers I thought they might be. I felt invigorated and moderately satisfied. I dare say I might have actually been a runner in another lifetime. I'm not quite sure if this feat could be accomplished without my iPod but I'd certainly give it a try. My goal is to work towards maintaining a steady pace and by next spring, I might just try the real thing outdoors.
In the mean time, I'll be the idiot running in front of my TV, trying not to trip over the other Miis who fail to stay upright for two minutes at a time.
Thursday, August 28, 2008
Cognitive upchuck and the like
At last, I have returned. Call it a mental hiatus if you will, I wanted to take the last month and a half off from overanalyzing things. Due to some family complications, this hiatus wasn't as continual as I had hoped for. The following brain vomit is what I have been needing to write down for some time; my apologies for the sheer "suckiness" that ensues.
There was a death in my family. Death is a part of life, or so that crappy cliche goes. I personally think there is nothing natural about death and truth be told my death is something I have always feared. Blame this on my "lack" of spirituality or whatever you wish; I just know I like being in control and death doesn't really let you call the shots. Perhaps if Death came in the form of the animated grim reaper on Family Guy would I feel a little better about it.
Anyway, that last paragraph was garbage. What I really meant to say was that I lost one of the most meaningful people in my life last month and I am falling far short of being "okay" with it. Memories of this person cloud my thoughts every single day. I have so many questions I cannot answer, let alone the questions I'm not even sure how to ask. This death was his choice, not a rational choice in my opinion, but his choice. I am not sure if I have ever felt so betrayed or angry with someone. I want to tell him what a fucking chicken shit he was for doing what he did. Sometimes my ill-conceived notions of heaven allow me to think that he is watching over this world and that he can see my family unraveling. He can see my confusion and the mental clusterfuck that has made permanent residence inside my head. It is rare when I encounter an empathetic moment where I try to imagine his life leading up to his death. Sometimes I just don't care how bad he hurt because not even Machiavelli could argue that "the ends justified the means."
The good memories I have of this man are clouded by the negativity surrounding his death. My head knows that there is no point in being bitter because person I'm directing my anger to can do not a thing to respond. Dead, dead, dead, dead, done. He is gone.
I hope to someday put this behind me but for now we're both running at a steady pace, side by side. My anger and memories of him are my constant companions. His death has made me even more selfish than usual. I have pushed away friends and family who have tried to comfort me when any solace they could have offered should have been welcomed with open arms. What do you say to person who has lost someone because they just didn't feel like living anymore? The subject is so taboo in society that I don't even feel this blog is appropriate to share. However, I have to get it out and if I can't say this to someone's face, at least it is out of my head.
I miss him and for the first time in my life I've realized that hate and love are not on two different continuums but the same one. One of my relatives accurately described it as going from "a hug to a slug" in about 0.2 seconds. Many are the times I want to slug him, and hopefully more often will I feel the need to want to hug him.
So really, welcome to the event that has defined my life for the past month or so. However, the gloom and doom ends here.
There was a death in my family. Death is a part of life, or so that crappy cliche goes. I personally think there is nothing natural about death and truth be told my death is something I have always feared. Blame this on my "lack" of spirituality or whatever you wish; I just know I like being in control and death doesn't really let you call the shots. Perhaps if Death came in the form of the animated grim reaper on Family Guy would I feel a little better about it.
Anyway, that last paragraph was garbage. What I really meant to say was that I lost one of the most meaningful people in my life last month and I am falling far short of being "okay" with it. Memories of this person cloud my thoughts every single day. I have so many questions I cannot answer, let alone the questions I'm not even sure how to ask. This death was his choice, not a rational choice in my opinion, but his choice. I am not sure if I have ever felt so betrayed or angry with someone. I want to tell him what a fucking chicken shit he was for doing what he did. Sometimes my ill-conceived notions of heaven allow me to think that he is watching over this world and that he can see my family unraveling. He can see my confusion and the mental clusterfuck that has made permanent residence inside my head. It is rare when I encounter an empathetic moment where I try to imagine his life leading up to his death. Sometimes I just don't care how bad he hurt because not even Machiavelli could argue that "the ends justified the means."
The good memories I have of this man are clouded by the negativity surrounding his death. My head knows that there is no point in being bitter because person I'm directing my anger to can do not a thing to respond. Dead, dead, dead, dead, done. He is gone.
I hope to someday put this behind me but for now we're both running at a steady pace, side by side. My anger and memories of him are my constant companions. His death has made me even more selfish than usual. I have pushed away friends and family who have tried to comfort me when any solace they could have offered should have been welcomed with open arms. What do you say to person who has lost someone because they just didn't feel like living anymore? The subject is so taboo in society that I don't even feel this blog is appropriate to share. However, I have to get it out and if I can't say this to someone's face, at least it is out of my head.
I miss him and for the first time in my life I've realized that hate and love are not on two different continuums but the same one. One of my relatives accurately described it as going from "a hug to a slug" in about 0.2 seconds. Many are the times I want to slug him, and hopefully more often will I feel the need to want to hug him.
So really, welcome to the event that has defined my life for the past month or so. However, the gloom and doom ends here.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
No name
Today I remembered it was the birthday of one of my best friends from college. At one point in my life, she was numero uno; someone who knew all of my secrets and still wanted to be my friend. Despite being two extraordinarily different people, we shared common threads that paved the way for our transition into college life. There are few memories of my freshman through junior years that do not involve her. She was probably the closest thing I've had to a sister.
As most friendships go, we had squabbles every so often. The big one came at the end of our junior year. I was hurt, she told me she was sorry, and I came around to forgiving her. However, soon after this incident I became exceedingly aware that our differences were catching up to us and the bond of friendship started to crack. We both became busy with our own lives and doings and before we knew it, the cracks had become a rift, then a fault line, and eventually to what I would describe as a small canyon today.
Our attempts to bridge things back together haven't paid off. There have been the occasional "How are you"s and attempts to hold a conversation, but nothing substantial. It has been over a year since we've even seen one another.
There was a long period of time where I struggled with the notion that someone so connected to my sense of self for three years was just not there anymore. There was a point where I had convinced myself that she had pushed me away only to be followed by more overanalyzing that made me feel as though I was the one doing the pushing.
Having kissed away that guilt not a moment too soon, I sat down by my computer, logged into Facebook, and left her a simple "Happy Birthday!" message. The middle-school kid inside of me remembered I hadn't received such wishes on my birthday, but thankfully the 23-year-old me was finally able to tell that middle schooler to fuck off. Yes, a simple birthday message is really all I felt the need to say to her. This may start some sort of interaction between us that essentially goes nowhere and it's okay. There's a strong chance we will eventually lose touch with one another. I guess I welcome whatever open-ended communication happens between us.
To say she is no longer a friend is a big pill to swallow and for practical purposes possibly true. However, she will never be just another person I see walking down the street or some mutual acquaintance. She fills a capacity for which there really is no proper name, and perhaps that is what I struggle with the most.
As most friendships go, we had squabbles every so often. The big one came at the end of our junior year. I was hurt, she told me she was sorry, and I came around to forgiving her. However, soon after this incident I became exceedingly aware that our differences were catching up to us and the bond of friendship started to crack. We both became busy with our own lives and doings and before we knew it, the cracks had become a rift, then a fault line, and eventually to what I would describe as a small canyon today.
Our attempts to bridge things back together haven't paid off. There have been the occasional "How are you"s and attempts to hold a conversation, but nothing substantial. It has been over a year since we've even seen one another.
There was a long period of time where I struggled with the notion that someone so connected to my sense of self for three years was just not there anymore. There was a point where I had convinced myself that she had pushed me away only to be followed by more overanalyzing that made me feel as though I was the one doing the pushing.
Having kissed away that guilt not a moment too soon, I sat down by my computer, logged into Facebook, and left her a simple "Happy Birthday!" message. The middle-school kid inside of me remembered I hadn't received such wishes on my birthday, but thankfully the 23-year-old me was finally able to tell that middle schooler to fuck off. Yes, a simple birthday message is really all I felt the need to say to her. This may start some sort of interaction between us that essentially goes nowhere and it's okay. There's a strong chance we will eventually lose touch with one another. I guess I welcome whatever open-ended communication happens between us.
To say she is no longer a friend is a big pill to swallow and for practical purposes possibly true. However, she will never be just another person I see walking down the street or some mutual acquaintance. She fills a capacity for which there really is no proper name, and perhaps that is what I struggle with the most.
Sunday, February 17, 2008
Twenty-two going on twelve
Today I was regaled with the news that another one of my friends has become engaged. Being the self-absorbed piece of crap that I can be on a frequent basis, I turned this situation into a "woe-is-me" story, rather than being a decent human being and friend and feeling happy for my friend who has found...umm...happiness. I don't feel like using a thesaurus right now.
Instead, I started to count how many of my friends are engaged or married. I was actually kind of shocked by the number; I definitely wasn't expecting as many. Then I thought about how many of my friends are in relationships. Then I realized it's my day off work and that keeping my brain workload to a minimum might not be a half bad idea. I decided to count my single friends. Out of the three groups, my single friends (and I'm counting people I talk to semi-frequently) are the only group in the single digits. When, oh Alpha and Omega, did that happen?
It's no big secret that I've been checking the "single" box for a few years now. This is partly of my own doing; I place a high value on independence and self-sufficiency. However, as I age ever so gracefully, I realize this pattern is not the most socially accepted as you add on more candles on the birthday cake. Seeing as how I have less than a quarter of a century of birthday candles on my cake, I don't think there should be a rush...at all.
Maybe I don't really have anything to worry about. I think sometimes I get a little frustrated thinking that if my friends and I were playing the game of Life (TM) that I would be losing by quite a bit. I'm a pretty competitive person so you can only imagine my outrage at this absurd situation.
Bat-shit crazy grandma doesn't like it when I joke about becoming an old maid, especially while my seventeen-year old cousin brings her boyfriend over before Christmas dinner to meet the family. My mom, the ever-endearing fountain of cliche, says that loves comes when you least expect it. She also told me once that love is awesome and that if I were a lesbian she'd be okay with that. Thanks Mom, but I don't think switching teams is going to help my batting average.
Instead, I started to count how many of my friends are engaged or married. I was actually kind of shocked by the number; I definitely wasn't expecting as many. Then I thought about how many of my friends are in relationships. Then I realized it's my day off work and that keeping my brain workload to a minimum might not be a half bad idea. I decided to count my single friends. Out of the three groups, my single friends (and I'm counting people I talk to semi-frequently) are the only group in the single digits. When, oh Alpha and Omega, did that happen?
It's no big secret that I've been checking the "single" box for a few years now. This is partly of my own doing; I place a high value on independence and self-sufficiency. However, as I age ever so gracefully, I realize this pattern is not the most socially accepted as you add on more candles on the birthday cake. Seeing as how I have less than a quarter of a century of birthday candles on my cake, I don't think there should be a rush...at all.
Maybe I don't really have anything to worry about. I think sometimes I get a little frustrated thinking that if my friends and I were playing the game of Life (TM) that I would be losing by quite a bit. I'm a pretty competitive person so you can only imagine my outrage at this absurd situation.
Bat-shit crazy grandma doesn't like it when I joke about becoming an old maid, especially while my seventeen-year old cousin brings her boyfriend over before Christmas dinner to meet the family. My mom, the ever-endearing fountain of cliche, says that loves comes when you least expect it. She also told me once that love is awesome and that if I were a lesbian she'd be okay with that. Thanks Mom, but I don't think switching teams is going to help my batting average.
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