Monday, February 16, 2004
Floor Pills From Jesus
Seeing red, I never thought I would have to see your face again, I don't have time for your sympathies, because it never happened to me…
I will not say much about the drugs, if you want to know you may ask me in person, or I may talk about it when I come down form this Wuthering height. I will say this however, I do not think it was extasy. I now believe it was over priced speed. I am capable of typing extremely fast but I am making too many mistakes, so now ladies and gentlemen, I am going to try to slow it down for you.
But have I said too much already? Indeed, I have more to say to you. I will not lie to you tonight, yet telling you here, like this, seems wrong. Dirty. How can one such as I with such a lose grasp on the English language even begin to explain the feelings that flow over my body. My head is light, my mind awake. Overly alert I ramble on and on much to either the amusement or annoyance of my former classmates. Getting sidetracked in my conversation constantly was a very entertaining for those who would listen, especially when I would track backward quickly, titling each subject with a few words, "Chad's hair, The set up, Nathen, taken dips, right that's what I was talking about, so what are dips?" Pointing at a relevant object as I read the list aloud to help the memories come running back.
I do not feel that this is very entertaining. Perhaps it will pick up in the next few sections. Even typing this now, my arms feel weak. For the battles, I lost beside Enver against his friends and my colleges. Distinction is important to me. Even Enver and I have fallen to the waist sides, something that fills me with as much grief as I can know. My fingers fly, still miss key strokes, I force myself to type slower but the words do not wait in my mind and more spelling mistakes run across the page.
The feeling in my chest that of new love, dread, and sweat. I do not sweat as a rule, unless involved intimately clasped between another's arms… or legs. I am now sweating quiet badly. It also smells. No one else said they could smell me at the time, but I find it to be most discussing at this moment. I thank god every time I see a stinking, fat, sweaty man that in another 20 years, I should not be much worse than my father, whom lesbians have told me is a very hansom man. Time to re read and edit.
I want to be a better person. I have dug myself too far down now for me to pull off the nice guy thing with anyone. So again, I will ask that you would take my word on what I am saying, but pay careful attention. I lie to myself sometimes. I used to be a nice guy. Helpful and caring I would listen to Cheryl Evenoff rant on and on about her knees, her softball, her shoes, her boyfriends who I stupidly envied. Was a relationship too much to ask for? We were closer than I had been with anyone. Cheryl was much different then, or I was. I really do not know if she is still a succubus.
Long ago I still remember I looked in the mirror and said, "Sean, no one likes a nice guy." It was true. No one did like the nice guy; bitter towards the world of women I stepped with a heavy heart into highschool and a new strategy growing in my head. I became an asshole. The old friends went their way. I started to meet new friends, and more importantly, women.
Success was my poison. I would like to think that if it had not been for Caress, I would not have gone on being the ass hole. I would have tried something else... perhaps it would have turned worse? A Goth which despite being a little tempting would have been a laugh. Perhaps joined the football team, start to play soccer or maybe even back to the nice guy. Nevertheless, I had success.
Once I had found something that worked to win over a girl, my strategy and the better part of my personality locked in place. I became Sean the ass hole who scores with chick on a semi regular basis. I was no Casanovak, but little success seems big when you have tasted only rejection. So I played the role, and why wouldn't I? It made sense, and I do not regret making those choices. Yet now the times they are a changing. I miss caring about things.
Some where deep deep in me the nice little boy inside me saves a sentimental twenty dollar bill, he has been hard working at making his voice heard lately, and is inching slowly out of the deepest recesses of my mind. While I am forsaken to the better half of my friends now I realize that any change would require an amazing feat, and most likely the social structure of high school. It may have been mercilessly cruel, but if you knew the rules, you could brake them. People think they knew me then, still know me now. I have given them little reason to doubt what they think of me lately. Creating doubt in the minds of people, I see once a year is hard. Taking on a new role with no cast of characters to support your new identity is near impossible. I just said the same thing twice. God I am dumb.
I would hope that most of you know by now that I have not been angry in the last 4 years or so. I have not hit my fist into the wall, cursed my father's name, or felt disappointment towards people. I have always been good at rationalizing things to myself, about others and myself. That is not to say that you do not annoy me from time to time.
Part of what keeps me calm is I do not hang out with people I do not like, people who annoy and bother. I gave up seeing Dave for months, and would have gone on not seeing him had it not been for two parties recently. I gave up on Adrianna for a month, and you are taking offence to that is the only annoying thing you do. Do not let my words sting, in the end there was not anything you could do. You are only annoyed by the things you let bug you. I now tell my dad, "Remember when you said…" and he would be like, "it is impossible for me not to be annoyed by you looking at porn on the family computer." So I guess it also depends on your limits.
Side note: (Optional read)
Personally I would not consider the porn I look at to even be "porn". I do not like looking at women who seem to be doing it because they need crack, or the ones with fake boobs splattered with cum. There is other erotica, paintings, and pictures where the female body is displayed as a piece of art that no man would be allowed to touch lest he disparage it with his lust. It is hard to find, and I rarely bother looking, but you have to enjoy it when you see a work of art. I am not all boobs butts n' stuff.
Side note ends.
(Resume reading here)
The mixed feelings of new love and dread is a painful one but one that I have missed for a long time. It is possible to like feeling bad, let me saying it stand as proof itself. After what has been years with out feeling truly alone, truly in love, truly going out of my mind with anticipation. Crippling despair is an enjoyable change. I also think it makes me write better.
Lately I found myself with my eyes to the heavens, praying to a god I do not even believe in. I think it is a good sigh, but not in that I still, have a fear of god. In that I am looking for help, wanting to move forward, to change myself to the next successful type of alpha males, or at least some one to share my mind with.
Did putting optional reading make you want to read that section more, or less?
I am feeling alone. I am feeling left behind, failings to chose a proper path and fallow it with any sense of determination. I love how writing makes it all feel better. Perhaps I was not in truly in love with Nicole, but I did feel stronger for her than I did for any one else, before or since. So perhaps I do not feel truly alone, but if I have felt no lower, so I hope it does not drop even further.
Icky. I just went and put on a new shirt and some more pit stick. I hate the smell of lingering BO. Sure I am a slob in that I have paper and clothing on my floor, but you will not ever see old food in my room. Moreover, smelling bad is all the reason I need to go home early from a party.
Speaking of which, have you ever noticed how the choice you make, bring forth-other choices and those choices more choices still? Drew was kindly enough to drive me to Enver's, even if it was under the shadow of picking up booze for Adrianna… but I have theories for later on that on. Do try to remind me about that.
Nathen said he would pick me up, but knowing better than to trust who should be my most trusted friend (going back 8 years now) I accepted Drew's offer for a ride. The party progress, Nathen arrives shortly after 12. Then when Drew is leaving, I asked Nathen if he would give me a ride home, and for some reason, I will never understand I failed to remember the wisdom of earlier that night. He left me behind at Enver's. Next thing I knew there is only those six individuals who are going skiing tomorrow left behind. They say they will give me a ride, but that they need some sleep before they hit the rode. After laying down for thirty minutes all the while cracking jokes they decide it is time to go at 5am… give or take a few minutes. Enver wakes from his sleep, to find that the job we did cleaning while he slept would not live up to his mother's standards. Half the guys go hide in the van or fill it full of gas while Enver, Ben, Kyle, Chad Adam and I help to clean up. Soon they each run to hide in the hopes of leaving. It is just myself left to help Enver in his war against hidden bottle caps, which I refuse to stop fighting until Enver says so. I don't need to spend the next 6 hours with these hung over and agitated thrill seekers in a cramped van, what do I care if they hate me?
Egged on by cries of, "Oh c'mon it is clean," and "hurry the fuck up we want to leave!" We finished our self-appointed tasks in no hurry and made our way outside. I think I really was the only one there who knew what Enver's mom is like. People will attest that she as a bag, with themselves as a witness to her fits of rage. Yet, I know as Enver does that she is far worse with no one else around. That one of the greatest people I have ever known should come from such a woman as this, I will never understand. I will avoid the obvious Simpson's quotes here, and I won't say he was a trooper surviving despite the odds being so stacked against him, if only because of his drug usage. Enver you can say you do not use it as an escape from your worries, but I know you do, because I do to.
Going back to edit. Finished edit at 9:41am.
There is also a side story to go along with this last little blarg. I am typing this as one of my edits at 10:45. The story goes, as fallows…
For the last week, I have been spending much time with my oldest friend Nathen. I believe the only person I have known for longer is his younger brother who I meet in the principals office the day before I meet the man himself. I would not count Nathen as my most trusted friend, as he has let slip some bits of information that are irrelevant now, but where important then. Enver would also miss this title as he has caused damage that will never repair itself, even if I tried to fix it. Not to say that I do not still like them, I just do not tell them anything important any more. So when I call Nathen for a little green bag I decide just to pop over and see how things are going at the new place. There is a right little party going on with some of my old chums taking extasy for the first time. I spoke to Dave about his experiences as they went on and he assured me it was a hella trip. It was not until the next day that I have to sit down with the man himself and talk about how life had been in the months since we last hung out. He informs me that he is now seeing a new lady but to my dismay has yet to sleep with her.
Now, I find Jodie (SP?) to be quiet intelligent, well spoken as well as pretty damn hawt. I say none of this with any defamation of her character in mind. I also know that she is twenty-two years old and I do not know about you, but something makes me doubt that she herself has not done the deed. So what is the hold up then? Nathen has a list of excuses that remind me of the Americans at Vic's who couldn't climb the walls. "Well I need to warm up first, haven't worked out in a while." "I can't make that move, my fingers kind of hurt from this cut I got." "I dislocated my thumb last week and now I can't get a grip on that slopper." "I would have made it to the top but I had beans for lunch." It seems taking failure like a man also involves listing as many excuses as you can think of until every one moves on to the next climb.
So instead of just making fun of him and his lacking libido, I made fun of him and try to give him some useful advice. Something I don't like to do, because frankly I don't know what I'm talking about. So after a brief overview of possible tactics he tells me Saturday that he will seal the deal after Enver's. So once I realized he left Enver's with out me (Which I feel, ended up for the best for everyone involved), I give his house a quick call. "Hi is Nathen there?"
Yeah just a second.
Hello
"Nathen! How are you?"
Ahh good?
"You forgot me at Enver's."
Shit… ahh… well I could come pick you up?
"You know what I have been bugging you about lately?"
Yeah…
"If you pick me up will it affect your mission?"
Yeah.
"Okay, well don't worry about it then, I'll talk to you tomorrow and figure another way home."
Haha, okay.
"Good Luck"
*click*
Now, I do truthfully want the story to end here. I would let you all assume that Nathens testicles finally dropped and he completed his mission objective. In a variety of ways, I could now find out if he did, or did not do everything he set out to do this night. It would be annoying to have me call him this early, but I highly doubt he is asleep yet. All I know is I will be truly disappointed if he forgot me at Enver's and does not seal the deal.
I am back down at the end 11:12 edit spot.
I think I have edited this more than anything else I have ever written. I keep changing sections to sound better, but I have a feeling it is not working too well. My mind is peacefully protesting against my body.
I find it is hard to feel down with the lively two-toned beat creeping out of the speakers beside me. I do not wish to wake the others so I must keep it down. I still manage not to feel great however, ska is not a miracle cure for depression, it is slow acting medication for the soul. Radiohead would just kill me right about now… so tempting.
I do not think I want to date some one who is smarter than me any more. That is far to vulgar I need to be more specific, I need to date some one who has more common sense than me, who is wiser than I am. I can almost hear you laughing from here. I just want some one who can point out the subtle hypocrisy that lay just below the surface of my writings and myself. I hate hypocrites who do not know they are hypocrites, or worse still insist that they are not. I know I do and say things all the time that go against what I just finished saying a second before hand. I do not catch them all, so I think it would be nice to have some one else catch me when I fall.
Admitting you have a problem is the first step towards being cured of conflicting thought. Yet the conflicting thoughts made to be an asset at times making me a quality debater. No matter what angle, no matter my personal belief's I would argue the point ignoring all other data, sure that I was right in what I said. Then I would go into the next room and argue the other side of the issue with the same temperance. My partner however would always wobble. Let personal belief slip in and give ground away to the opposition.
How hard is it to have a goal and fight for it with out slowing or stopping for anything? It is almost impossible in the long term. For myself anyway. My thoughts are with a smiling Brady rubbing against the wall, and wondering where the hell is my trip? And who he could be rubbing against even now as I type this. Who said I wasn't melodramatic? Was it you? It was you wasn't it. Ofcourse I am melodramatic, I like to think I keep it DL, but more likely is that I just have a different way of being dramatic that what I see in others.
I hate to think that even my most drug-induced thoughts are not original thoughts. That I think in English is bad enough, it limits the true feelings and ideas inside me. How can a word describe this feeling with any degree of accuracy? Warm, muddled hallow, feeling in my chest, but even you hearing, you still cannot know what it is. English is a filter I run ideas and feelings through and they are thusly dulled by my own ineptitude. How many times have you not been able to find the right words?
Editing time 10:02am McGettigans just opened.
I took this day off work last Friday. Making sure Cormac would be able to deal with the lack of any Sean on this cold Monday morning. It is very well, otherwise I would have to be at work in an hour and twenty minutes. I am too awake to go to sleep still, making me only believe more firmly that this is, infact, some sort of speed I am on. My head feels dizzy, but in a good way. I can see how this drug would be used for people who wish to get large amounts of schoolwork done late at night. I am sure ready for another day.
I have nothing to do until 9am Tuesday morning, other than shower. The deodorant worked for the smell of this drug-induced sweat, but I can still feel it on me. My dad is gone to work, Lisa is up with the baby, and the rest of our players in this comedy of errors are either asleep or in Australia. Hmm here is a thought that I did not think till now. You may think that I would be envious of my sisters trip to the land down under, but the thought never crossed my mind until just now. Why wouldn't I be green with envy? I should be, shouldn't I? She is away from here and the cold for three months with the love of her life, what more could any one else envy.
The answer is always Nachos.
Is it fair to only ask questions of people, refusing to answer any yourself?
"What's missing?" -K
I stick by Nachos, but why will not you answer your own questions?
In the end I did enjoy my night, despite the lack of sweaty palms, hallucination, and an over whelming desire to copulate for pleasure. I do not think I got more than a half stock all night. Most disappointing. I did how ever learn the fine art of chewing tobacco, the basics on how to turn mr.turn table and mix mr.mixer so that sound came out in interesting patterns. To be truthful I only ever heard Derek make any noise with the thing when it was not I behind the set doing it myself. It was interesting but I would have assumed if Saif were going to all the work to put together a show that there would, at the very least be a show.
Enver does not like Saif much right now… but I would not blame Saif. Enver did not have to have the party, sure the peer pressure would have made it seem like a good idea, but he knows how these things always end. He should have been more prepared for the only possible outcome.
I too was told to prepare for the end. Extasy will leave you with a hang over for the soul. Upon waking, the mind reaches back and deep down in search of that feeling it held only a few hours ago. Racing faster and faster for fleeting glimpse and feelings of euphoria… the mind finds only the empty shell of despair in the vast chemical expanse of your mind. This drug will make you feel better and forget your worries, but if you do not prepare for the depression of a chemically unbalanced mind, your worries will only strangle you with the sick desperation of fleeting hope.
It has been ten hours and this substance is yet to wear off. I wonder if I would ramble to Lisa if I walk downstairs to make Tea. I could not stop talking all night, which I thought was rather low status of me except that the people I was speaking with seemed to be listing with interest to what I had to say. It could also be a side affect of this little pill that I only think that people were listening, but I will not be able to figure that out just yet. I was talking about everything from Food at the yard, to cancer research, to where Enver stands as a deal maker or deal breaker. How good of a movie Better Luck Tomorrow truly is, and what video games everyone was playing. I would give opinions, and as much news as I could summon to my lips, leaving out as much advice as I could stand when it comes to the fine art of writing a drunk review.
I hate laptops. Why would they make it so that if I tapped on that little screen that it would act as if I clicked? I keeps moving me around the screen and messing up my typing. To cure it I must type with my hands on an uncomfortable angle or tilt the laptop up on my knees.
Edit 11:12
Chad has now entered the ranks as one of those people who wish I would write about him. Drew gets credit for being my muse on this one. If it was not for his late night bantering, I may not have taken up the habit of writing epics while on toxins. Who knows if we would have ever seen my future as I see it on mushrooms if that first stepping stone had not been so carelessly tossed into the river? Adrianna, Kate and Age have also asked for the privilege, if I dare call it that. Something however makes me doubt that it will be any time soon though, if I even write them at all. Of Chad I could write almost an epic, but of Adrianna Kate and Age? Well I fear even now that they would be insulted by my lack of effort or my poor knowledge of the subjects (Them). I mean, I saw Drew's sack while he was wrestling at practice once! That kind of stuff just writes itself!
I think I may go down and make some tea. Yes, I will. Time of departure 11:28
11:31 back with a floppy disk to take previous update off the laptop and onto diaryland.com
I am such a huge firkin nerd.
12:06 I return. Tetley Tea in one hand, cell phone in the other. It is almost the hour when calling Nathen may again be appropriate. I was also a little sketched out hanging around down stairs so I just speed brewed my tea instead of using lose leaf. I am not entirely sure if I like Lose or Tetley Orange Pekoe more.
Ha my laptop is showing the wrong time, it isn't 12:09, it is 11:22. So all my time is about an hour off…. So that means… oh god. All right, I am going to run this beast threw the spell checker. It will be a while. Mmm tea. Finished spellchecker at 12:51. You think I have bad spelling normally? You should have seen what this looked like before I fixed it up. These pills messed me up.
With the telephone call I am about to make the clouds of fog should be finally blown out, to reveal the conclusion of this comedy of errors. Ofcourse it is only after I type all this that I bother to call and no one answers. It is currently 12:53pm lap top time, or 12:06pm real time. Twenty-four hours with out sleep is a fucking long time when you get used to sleeping 10-11 hours a day. This is going to have some long term affects.
Why do I stay calm while others panic when put in the same situation. I blame the Tao of Pooh, and the understanding that things will either work out or they will not. I have two regrets in my life, and if I died at this moment, I could say I did all I came here to do. Ambition is something I lack, or perhaps it is something to be ambition about that is missing from my equation.
Drama as well as debate has shown me both side of almost every situation, and help expose may of the hypocrisies that exist within myself. Lisa was once watching a movie about a young teenaged girl who would cut herself with razors all over her body. She was a very depressed person, and took out most of her angst on herself. It was a cry for help from her to her parents. Lisa (Who is my step mom by the way) could not believe how her parents could just keep sending her to doctors and trying to pretend like nothing was wrong with her. That they seems so uncaring really started to make her upset, and set her off on a rant about understanding teenagers and dealing with self mutilation. Now this is fine so far, as it is only part of the point I am trying to convey with these crude tools.
It was only a day later when she was watching Trauma Life in the ER, and I was perched high atop my desk chair in front of the computer, that I first saw a flaw in my step mothers compassion. A man, middle aged, longish, mousy hair had hammered a pencil into his own gut with his shoe. She laughed. "How silly is that!" She laughed. Then ofcourse, with myself being the essential pointer outer of flaws in other people. (Deirdre having been in another room.) I had to say something, "How can you feel so passionately for the situation of a teenaged girl who mutilates herself then turn around and laugh at a man who is clearly suffering from a similar metal state?" She looked over at me; "Well this guy is just ridiculous."
There is little point in arguing with her. I had made my point and felt self satisfied with my ability to recognize the discrimination that had taken places between this young girl and middle aged man. Knowing that you can make the same mistakes is an important lesson that some do not bother to learn. One that I am trying to learn. I made this very same mistake weeks later. Fubar is playing on TV and Mr.Pink and I are sitting watching a man wade threw the sorrows of having to lose one of his testicles. As he spoke about his life and what was going to happen to him I turned to Dave and said, "You know I would feel a lot more empathetic if he didn't have such long hair." Dave laughed, then agreed.
I am still a long way from knowing all I need to know. Sleep is for the weak and people who do not take crazy pills.
I am going to go shower now.
SEAN!!!
I'd shoot the moon, right out of the sky for you baby; I shoot the moon for you.
1:28pmLaptop 12:41pmRealtime
I will not say much about the drugs, if you want to know you may ask me in person, or I may talk about it when I come down form this Wuthering height. I will say this however, I do not think it was extasy. I now believe it was over priced speed. I am capable of typing extremely fast but I am making too many mistakes, so now ladies and gentlemen, I am going to try to slow it down for you.
But have I said too much already? Indeed, I have more to say to you. I will not lie to you tonight, yet telling you here, like this, seems wrong. Dirty. How can one such as I with such a lose grasp on the English language even begin to explain the feelings that flow over my body. My head is light, my mind awake. Overly alert I ramble on and on much to either the amusement or annoyance of my former classmates. Getting sidetracked in my conversation constantly was a very entertaining for those who would listen, especially when I would track backward quickly, titling each subject with a few words, "Chad's hair, The set up, Nathen, taken dips, right that's what I was talking about, so what are dips?" Pointing at a relevant object as I read the list aloud to help the memories come running back.
I do not feel that this is very entertaining. Perhaps it will pick up in the next few sections. Even typing this now, my arms feel weak. For the battles, I lost beside Enver against his friends and my colleges. Distinction is important to me. Even Enver and I have fallen to the waist sides, something that fills me with as much grief as I can know. My fingers fly, still miss key strokes, I force myself to type slower but the words do not wait in my mind and more spelling mistakes run across the page.
The feeling in my chest that of new love, dread, and sweat. I do not sweat as a rule, unless involved intimately clasped between another's arms… or legs. I am now sweating quiet badly. It also smells. No one else said they could smell me at the time, but I find it to be most discussing at this moment. I thank god every time I see a stinking, fat, sweaty man that in another 20 years, I should not be much worse than my father, whom lesbians have told me is a very hansom man. Time to re read and edit.
I want to be a better person. I have dug myself too far down now for me to pull off the nice guy thing with anyone. So again, I will ask that you would take my word on what I am saying, but pay careful attention. I lie to myself sometimes. I used to be a nice guy. Helpful and caring I would listen to Cheryl Evenoff rant on and on about her knees, her softball, her shoes, her boyfriends who I stupidly envied. Was a relationship too much to ask for? We were closer than I had been with anyone. Cheryl was much different then, or I was. I really do not know if she is still a succubus.
Long ago I still remember I looked in the mirror and said, "Sean, no one likes a nice guy." It was true. No one did like the nice guy; bitter towards the world of women I stepped with a heavy heart into highschool and a new strategy growing in my head. I became an asshole. The old friends went their way. I started to meet new friends, and more importantly, women.
Success was my poison. I would like to think that if it had not been for Caress, I would not have gone on being the ass hole. I would have tried something else... perhaps it would have turned worse? A Goth which despite being a little tempting would have been a laugh. Perhaps joined the football team, start to play soccer or maybe even back to the nice guy. Nevertheless, I had success.
Once I had found something that worked to win over a girl, my strategy and the better part of my personality locked in place. I became Sean the ass hole who scores with chick on a semi regular basis. I was no Casanovak, but little success seems big when you have tasted only rejection. So I played the role, and why wouldn't I? It made sense, and I do not regret making those choices. Yet now the times they are a changing. I miss caring about things.
Some where deep deep in me the nice little boy inside me saves a sentimental twenty dollar bill, he has been hard working at making his voice heard lately, and is inching slowly out of the deepest recesses of my mind. While I am forsaken to the better half of my friends now I realize that any change would require an amazing feat, and most likely the social structure of high school. It may have been mercilessly cruel, but if you knew the rules, you could brake them. People think they knew me then, still know me now. I have given them little reason to doubt what they think of me lately. Creating doubt in the minds of people, I see once a year is hard. Taking on a new role with no cast of characters to support your new identity is near impossible. I just said the same thing twice. God I am dumb.
I would hope that most of you know by now that I have not been angry in the last 4 years or so. I have not hit my fist into the wall, cursed my father's name, or felt disappointment towards people. I have always been good at rationalizing things to myself, about others and myself. That is not to say that you do not annoy me from time to time.
Part of what keeps me calm is I do not hang out with people I do not like, people who annoy and bother. I gave up seeing Dave for months, and would have gone on not seeing him had it not been for two parties recently. I gave up on Adrianna for a month, and you are taking offence to that is the only annoying thing you do. Do not let my words sting, in the end there was not anything you could do. You are only annoyed by the things you let bug you. I now tell my dad, "Remember when you said…" and he would be like, "it is impossible for me not to be annoyed by you looking at porn on the family computer." So I guess it also depends on your limits.
Side note: (Optional read)
Personally I would not consider the porn I look at to even be "porn". I do not like looking at women who seem to be doing it because they need crack, or the ones with fake boobs splattered with cum. There is other erotica, paintings, and pictures where the female body is displayed as a piece of art that no man would be allowed to touch lest he disparage it with his lust. It is hard to find, and I rarely bother looking, but you have to enjoy it when you see a work of art. I am not all boobs butts n' stuff.
Side note ends.
(Resume reading here)
The mixed feelings of new love and dread is a painful one but one that I have missed for a long time. It is possible to like feeling bad, let me saying it stand as proof itself. After what has been years with out feeling truly alone, truly in love, truly going out of my mind with anticipation. Crippling despair is an enjoyable change. I also think it makes me write better.
Lately I found myself with my eyes to the heavens, praying to a god I do not even believe in. I think it is a good sigh, but not in that I still, have a fear of god. In that I am looking for help, wanting to move forward, to change myself to the next successful type of alpha males, or at least some one to share my mind with.
Did putting optional reading make you want to read that section more, or less?
I am feeling alone. I am feeling left behind, failings to chose a proper path and fallow it with any sense of determination. I love how writing makes it all feel better. Perhaps I was not in truly in love with Nicole, but I did feel stronger for her than I did for any one else, before or since. So perhaps I do not feel truly alone, but if I have felt no lower, so I hope it does not drop even further.
Icky. I just went and put on a new shirt and some more pit stick. I hate the smell of lingering BO. Sure I am a slob in that I have paper and clothing on my floor, but you will not ever see old food in my room. Moreover, smelling bad is all the reason I need to go home early from a party.
Speaking of which, have you ever noticed how the choice you make, bring forth-other choices and those choices more choices still? Drew was kindly enough to drive me to Enver's, even if it was under the shadow of picking up booze for Adrianna… but I have theories for later on that on. Do try to remind me about that.
Nathen said he would pick me up, but knowing better than to trust who should be my most trusted friend (going back 8 years now) I accepted Drew's offer for a ride. The party progress, Nathen arrives shortly after 12. Then when Drew is leaving, I asked Nathen if he would give me a ride home, and for some reason, I will never understand I failed to remember the wisdom of earlier that night. He left me behind at Enver's. Next thing I knew there is only those six individuals who are going skiing tomorrow left behind. They say they will give me a ride, but that they need some sleep before they hit the rode. After laying down for thirty minutes all the while cracking jokes they decide it is time to go at 5am… give or take a few minutes. Enver wakes from his sleep, to find that the job we did cleaning while he slept would not live up to his mother's standards. Half the guys go hide in the van or fill it full of gas while Enver, Ben, Kyle, Chad Adam and I help to clean up. Soon they each run to hide in the hopes of leaving. It is just myself left to help Enver in his war against hidden bottle caps, which I refuse to stop fighting until Enver says so. I don't need to spend the next 6 hours with these hung over and agitated thrill seekers in a cramped van, what do I care if they hate me?
Egged on by cries of, "Oh c'mon it is clean," and "hurry the fuck up we want to leave!" We finished our self-appointed tasks in no hurry and made our way outside. I think I really was the only one there who knew what Enver's mom is like. People will attest that she as a bag, with themselves as a witness to her fits of rage. Yet, I know as Enver does that she is far worse with no one else around. That one of the greatest people I have ever known should come from such a woman as this, I will never understand. I will avoid the obvious Simpson's quotes here, and I won't say he was a trooper surviving despite the odds being so stacked against him, if only because of his drug usage. Enver you can say you do not use it as an escape from your worries, but I know you do, because I do to.
Going back to edit. Finished edit at 9:41am.
There is also a side story to go along with this last little blarg. I am typing this as one of my edits at 10:45. The story goes, as fallows…
For the last week, I have been spending much time with my oldest friend Nathen. I believe the only person I have known for longer is his younger brother who I meet in the principals office the day before I meet the man himself. I would not count Nathen as my most trusted friend, as he has let slip some bits of information that are irrelevant now, but where important then. Enver would also miss this title as he has caused damage that will never repair itself, even if I tried to fix it. Not to say that I do not still like them, I just do not tell them anything important any more. So when I call Nathen for a little green bag I decide just to pop over and see how things are going at the new place. There is a right little party going on with some of my old chums taking extasy for the first time. I spoke to Dave about his experiences as they went on and he assured me it was a hella trip. It was not until the next day that I have to sit down with the man himself and talk about how life had been in the months since we last hung out. He informs me that he is now seeing a new lady but to my dismay has yet to sleep with her.
Now, I find Jodie (SP?) to be quiet intelligent, well spoken as well as pretty damn hawt. I say none of this with any defamation of her character in mind. I also know that she is twenty-two years old and I do not know about you, but something makes me doubt that she herself has not done the deed. So what is the hold up then? Nathen has a list of excuses that remind me of the Americans at Vic's who couldn't climb the walls. "Well I need to warm up first, haven't worked out in a while." "I can't make that move, my fingers kind of hurt from this cut I got." "I dislocated my thumb last week and now I can't get a grip on that slopper." "I would have made it to the top but I had beans for lunch." It seems taking failure like a man also involves listing as many excuses as you can think of until every one moves on to the next climb.
So instead of just making fun of him and his lacking libido, I made fun of him and try to give him some useful advice. Something I don't like to do, because frankly I don't know what I'm talking about. So after a brief overview of possible tactics he tells me Saturday that he will seal the deal after Enver's. So once I realized he left Enver's with out me (Which I feel, ended up for the best for everyone involved), I give his house a quick call. "Hi is Nathen there?"
Yeah just a second.
Hello
"Nathen! How are you?"
Ahh good?
"You forgot me at Enver's."
Shit… ahh… well I could come pick you up?
"You know what I have been bugging you about lately?"
Yeah…
"If you pick me up will it affect your mission?"
Yeah.
"Okay, well don't worry about it then, I'll talk to you tomorrow and figure another way home."
Haha, okay.
"Good Luck"
*click*
Now, I do truthfully want the story to end here. I would let you all assume that Nathens testicles finally dropped and he completed his mission objective. In a variety of ways, I could now find out if he did, or did not do everything he set out to do this night. It would be annoying to have me call him this early, but I highly doubt he is asleep yet. All I know is I will be truly disappointed if he forgot me at Enver's and does not seal the deal.
I am back down at the end 11:12 edit spot.
I think I have edited this more than anything else I have ever written. I keep changing sections to sound better, but I have a feeling it is not working too well. My mind is peacefully protesting against my body.
I find it is hard to feel down with the lively two-toned beat creeping out of the speakers beside me. I do not wish to wake the others so I must keep it down. I still manage not to feel great however, ska is not a miracle cure for depression, it is slow acting medication for the soul. Radiohead would just kill me right about now… so tempting.
I do not think I want to date some one who is smarter than me any more. That is far to vulgar I need to be more specific, I need to date some one who has more common sense than me, who is wiser than I am. I can almost hear you laughing from here. I just want some one who can point out the subtle hypocrisy that lay just below the surface of my writings and myself. I hate hypocrites who do not know they are hypocrites, or worse still insist that they are not. I know I do and say things all the time that go against what I just finished saying a second before hand. I do not catch them all, so I think it would be nice to have some one else catch me when I fall.
Admitting you have a problem is the first step towards being cured of conflicting thought. Yet the conflicting thoughts made to be an asset at times making me a quality debater. No matter what angle, no matter my personal belief's I would argue the point ignoring all other data, sure that I was right in what I said. Then I would go into the next room and argue the other side of the issue with the same temperance. My partner however would always wobble. Let personal belief slip in and give ground away to the opposition.
How hard is it to have a goal and fight for it with out slowing or stopping for anything? It is almost impossible in the long term. For myself anyway. My thoughts are with a smiling Brady rubbing against the wall, and wondering where the hell is my trip? And who he could be rubbing against even now as I type this. Who said I wasn't melodramatic? Was it you? It was you wasn't it. Ofcourse I am melodramatic, I like to think I keep it DL, but more likely is that I just have a different way of being dramatic that what I see in others.
I hate to think that even my most drug-induced thoughts are not original thoughts. That I think in English is bad enough, it limits the true feelings and ideas inside me. How can a word describe this feeling with any degree of accuracy? Warm, muddled hallow, feeling in my chest, but even you hearing, you still cannot know what it is. English is a filter I run ideas and feelings through and they are thusly dulled by my own ineptitude. How many times have you not been able to find the right words?
Editing time 10:02am McGettigans just opened.
I took this day off work last Friday. Making sure Cormac would be able to deal with the lack of any Sean on this cold Monday morning. It is very well, otherwise I would have to be at work in an hour and twenty minutes. I am too awake to go to sleep still, making me only believe more firmly that this is, infact, some sort of speed I am on. My head feels dizzy, but in a good way. I can see how this drug would be used for people who wish to get large amounts of schoolwork done late at night. I am sure ready for another day.
I have nothing to do until 9am Tuesday morning, other than shower. The deodorant worked for the smell of this drug-induced sweat, but I can still feel it on me. My dad is gone to work, Lisa is up with the baby, and the rest of our players in this comedy of errors are either asleep or in Australia. Hmm here is a thought that I did not think till now. You may think that I would be envious of my sisters trip to the land down under, but the thought never crossed my mind until just now. Why wouldn't I be green with envy? I should be, shouldn't I? She is away from here and the cold for three months with the love of her life, what more could any one else envy.
The answer is always Nachos.
Is it fair to only ask questions of people, refusing to answer any yourself?
"What's missing?" -K
I stick by Nachos, but why will not you answer your own questions?
In the end I did enjoy my night, despite the lack of sweaty palms, hallucination, and an over whelming desire to copulate for pleasure. I do not think I got more than a half stock all night. Most disappointing. I did how ever learn the fine art of chewing tobacco, the basics on how to turn mr.turn table and mix mr.mixer so that sound came out in interesting patterns. To be truthful I only ever heard Derek make any noise with the thing when it was not I behind the set doing it myself. It was interesting but I would have assumed if Saif were going to all the work to put together a show that there would, at the very least be a show.
Enver does not like Saif much right now… but I would not blame Saif. Enver did not have to have the party, sure the peer pressure would have made it seem like a good idea, but he knows how these things always end. He should have been more prepared for the only possible outcome.
I too was told to prepare for the end. Extasy will leave you with a hang over for the soul. Upon waking, the mind reaches back and deep down in search of that feeling it held only a few hours ago. Racing faster and faster for fleeting glimpse and feelings of euphoria… the mind finds only the empty shell of despair in the vast chemical expanse of your mind. This drug will make you feel better and forget your worries, but if you do not prepare for the depression of a chemically unbalanced mind, your worries will only strangle you with the sick desperation of fleeting hope.
It has been ten hours and this substance is yet to wear off. I wonder if I would ramble to Lisa if I walk downstairs to make Tea. I could not stop talking all night, which I thought was rather low status of me except that the people I was speaking with seemed to be listing with interest to what I had to say. It could also be a side affect of this little pill that I only think that people were listening, but I will not be able to figure that out just yet. I was talking about everything from Food at the yard, to cancer research, to where Enver stands as a deal maker or deal breaker. How good of a movie Better Luck Tomorrow truly is, and what video games everyone was playing. I would give opinions, and as much news as I could summon to my lips, leaving out as much advice as I could stand when it comes to the fine art of writing a drunk review.
I hate laptops. Why would they make it so that if I tapped on that little screen that it would act as if I clicked? I keeps moving me around the screen and messing up my typing. To cure it I must type with my hands on an uncomfortable angle or tilt the laptop up on my knees.
Edit 11:12
Chad has now entered the ranks as one of those people who wish I would write about him. Drew gets credit for being my muse on this one. If it was not for his late night bantering, I may not have taken up the habit of writing epics while on toxins. Who knows if we would have ever seen my future as I see it on mushrooms if that first stepping stone had not been so carelessly tossed into the river? Adrianna, Kate and Age have also asked for the privilege, if I dare call it that. Something however makes me doubt that it will be any time soon though, if I even write them at all. Of Chad I could write almost an epic, but of Adrianna Kate and Age? Well I fear even now that they would be insulted by my lack of effort or my poor knowledge of the subjects (Them). I mean, I saw Drew's sack while he was wrestling at practice once! That kind of stuff just writes itself!
I think I may go down and make some tea. Yes, I will. Time of departure 11:28
11:31 back with a floppy disk to take previous update off the laptop and onto diaryland.com
I am such a huge firkin nerd.
12:06 I return. Tetley Tea in one hand, cell phone in the other. It is almost the hour when calling Nathen may again be appropriate. I was also a little sketched out hanging around down stairs so I just speed brewed my tea instead of using lose leaf. I am not entirely sure if I like Lose or Tetley Orange Pekoe more.
Ha my laptop is showing the wrong time, it isn't 12:09, it is 11:22. So all my time is about an hour off…. So that means… oh god. All right, I am going to run this beast threw the spell checker. It will be a while. Mmm tea. Finished spellchecker at 12:51. You think I have bad spelling normally? You should have seen what this looked like before I fixed it up. These pills messed me up.
With the telephone call I am about to make the clouds of fog should be finally blown out, to reveal the conclusion of this comedy of errors. Ofcourse it is only after I type all this that I bother to call and no one answers. It is currently 12:53pm lap top time, or 12:06pm real time. Twenty-four hours with out sleep is a fucking long time when you get used to sleeping 10-11 hours a day. This is going to have some long term affects.
Why do I stay calm while others panic when put in the same situation. I blame the Tao of Pooh, and the understanding that things will either work out or they will not. I have two regrets in my life, and if I died at this moment, I could say I did all I came here to do. Ambition is something I lack, or perhaps it is something to be ambition about that is missing from my equation.
Drama as well as debate has shown me both side of almost every situation, and help expose may of the hypocrisies that exist within myself. Lisa was once watching a movie about a young teenaged girl who would cut herself with razors all over her body. She was a very depressed person, and took out most of her angst on herself. It was a cry for help from her to her parents. Lisa (Who is my step mom by the way) could not believe how her parents could just keep sending her to doctors and trying to pretend like nothing was wrong with her. That they seems so uncaring really started to make her upset, and set her off on a rant about understanding teenagers and dealing with self mutilation. Now this is fine so far, as it is only part of the point I am trying to convey with these crude tools.
It was only a day later when she was watching Trauma Life in the ER, and I was perched high atop my desk chair in front of the computer, that I first saw a flaw in my step mothers compassion. A man, middle aged, longish, mousy hair had hammered a pencil into his own gut with his shoe. She laughed. "How silly is that!" She laughed. Then ofcourse, with myself being the essential pointer outer of flaws in other people. (Deirdre having been in another room.) I had to say something, "How can you feel so passionately for the situation of a teenaged girl who mutilates herself then turn around and laugh at a man who is clearly suffering from a similar metal state?" She looked over at me; "Well this guy is just ridiculous."
There is little point in arguing with her. I had made my point and felt self satisfied with my ability to recognize the discrimination that had taken places between this young girl and middle aged man. Knowing that you can make the same mistakes is an important lesson that some do not bother to learn. One that I am trying to learn. I made this very same mistake weeks later. Fubar is playing on TV and Mr.Pink and I are sitting watching a man wade threw the sorrows of having to lose one of his testicles. As he spoke about his life and what was going to happen to him I turned to Dave and said, "You know I would feel a lot more empathetic if he didn't have such long hair." Dave laughed, then agreed.
I am still a long way from knowing all I need to know. Sleep is for the weak and people who do not take crazy pills.
I am going to go shower now.
SEAN!!!
I'd shoot the moon, right out of the sky for you baby; I shoot the moon for you.
1:28pmLaptop 12:41pmRealtime
# posted by Uehen @ 7:23 AM 
