"It's the men of your culture who are being hit the hardest by the failure of your cultural mythology. They have (and have always had) a much greater investment in the righteousness of your revolution. In the coming years, as the signs of collapse become more and more unmistakable, you'll see them withdraw ever more completely into the surrogate world of male success, the world of sports."
"i knew you were someone i would enjoy talking to right away-- you're realistic, i love that about you. you keep your feet on the ground and you're mindful of your own limitations, but at the same time, you're willing to question and learn things, and you're still a little bit of a dreamer."
Friday, December 31, 2010
Thursday, December 30, 2010
So it's today. That's cool.
Yesterday, after finding my (along with Wil and Hank) way onto the correct airplane (despite arriving at the gate ten minutes after the flight's scheduled departure), I worked my way into Myopic books and bought five books (two of which I already own, though one is now in the possession of Danny's ex-girlfriend).
While in Florida, I finished that book of best American essays from 2009 that Mike (who orders Peppermint tea on a nearly nightly basis), then As I Lay Dying, and The House on Mango Street, before beginning My Ishmael. From Florida, I brought back four more of Charles Dickens' novels to expand my collection (though I've yet to read a single one. My grandmother thought I'd appreciate an almost-complete set).
So that's where I am now: into the next phase that my mind has taken me, away from the cigarettes and the apathy and the boredom, past the drinking and the getting high, and aside from the sports and the mindless television and crappy movies.
But how long will this last? I can't say. And where will I be when I'm 30? I can't say. At some point in my life, will I fall into one of these segments and ditch the rest? Or will I learn to incorporate all three? Hey, maybe I'll keep on living like this, drifting from one extreme to another: full-blown cigarette smoker to full-time runner to balls-to-the-wall literary aficionado. I can't say [without being uncertain].
Anyways, Florida was...
-Megan pissed me off.
From changing her itinerary because she didn't want to go to church on Christmas morning (instead of arriving on the 23rd and having to do a few chores, she decided it'd be more convenient to have me pick her up from the airport on Christmas day. Also, I'm not Catholic, nor am I religious, but I'll accompany my 92-year-old grandmother to church, especially after she paid for me to visit her. Furthermore, I don't think my [nor her] mind is susceptible to being converted because I attended one mass, if that's what she was worried about) to insisting that she take a shower at six in the morning when the only flight in jeopardy of being missed is the one that would carry me, Wil, and Hank-- an hour and a half before her flight was scheduled to board.
Then there was the Frango mint cookie:
Megan is dating a boy named Jeremy, who's 35 (though only in age an insecurity. As far as maturity is concerned, I'd say he's no older than 17). It's sufficient to say that my family doesn't like him. More than not liking him, we dislike him. It's not just that he's so insecure of his vertical deficiency that he doesn't let Megan wear high heels, nor is our disdain for him derived solely from his drinking problems; it's because he's a little bitch, in a very general way. I could tally all the little things that make up this assessment, but that would take too much time and delve too far into specific scenarios. What it all boils down to is his lack of self-control. Here's what I mean: he gets jealous of Megan. As far as I know, this jealousy is irrational. Megan has never cheated on him, nor has she tried to.
All trust aside, though, this time could be different. Maybe she's not picking up her phone because she's seeing/meeting/banging other dudes? When this plausible/unrealistic situation arises, it's best to call Megan as many times as possible, leaving a variety of Jekyll/Hyde messages on her answering machine.
Anyways, my sister's stupid for putting up with him and letting get away with this kind of thing, but I've digressed. My point was to paint a picture of this guy that can accurately depict the view from my mind's eye, which is very similar to what my mom sees. Here's the story I've been meaning to tell:
Every year my mom makes several different kinds of Christmas cookies, ranging in variety from candy-cane cookies (which are shaped like candy canes and incorporate bits and pieces of real-life, honest-to-god candy canes) to Bourbon Balls (essentially, bourbon and dough).
As our stay in Florida was coming to an end, while Wil and Mom were putting together a puzzle, I was coming downstairs to find a seat on a couch to ingest as much of My Ishmael as I could. As had become my routine, I passed through the kitchen on my way from the second floor to the living room (which is on the first floor). Down I went, spiraling quickly down the metal and carpet staircase, past the bookshelf with the C.S. Lewis and the presidential biographies, through the first doorway (devoid of a door), then immediately to the right and through the next doorway (devoid of a door), and into the kitchen. Within a foot of the entrance stood a cart, and on the cart lay round, tin cookie containers. At this point I was familiar with the contents of each and went for the green tin: Frango Mint cookies!-- always the best choice.
But, oh!, just two left!
and they were mine
unless I'd risk a stomach bereft...
not this time!
nor any other.
So I reached and grabbed and ate the first one whole, knowing a second would be on the way.
But from behind, and slightly to the right, like a tower leaning towards me with searchlights wondering (eye-balling, searching? monitoring?), was my sister.
At first unworthy,
our minds seeing eye-to-eye,
but with her motives ulterior
our differences opined.
"It's for my boyfriend, who no one vouches for aside from me, and, even then, only occasionally," she determined.
To be continued...
Yesterday, after finding my (along with Wil and Hank) way onto the correct airplane (despite arriving at the gate ten minutes after the flight's scheduled departure), I worked my way into Myopic books and bought five books (two of which I already own, though one is now in the possession of Danny's ex-girlfriend).
While in Florida, I finished that book of best American essays from 2009 that Mike (who orders Peppermint tea on a nearly nightly basis), then As I Lay Dying, and The House on Mango Street, before beginning My Ishmael. From Florida, I brought back four more of Charles Dickens' novels to expand my collection (though I've yet to read a single one. My grandmother thought I'd appreciate an almost-complete set).
So that's where I am now: into the next phase that my mind has taken me, away from the cigarettes and the apathy and the boredom, past the drinking and the getting high, and aside from the sports and the mindless television and crappy movies.
But how long will this last? I can't say. And where will I be when I'm 30? I can't say. At some point in my life, will I fall into one of these segments and ditch the rest? Or will I learn to incorporate all three? Hey, maybe I'll keep on living like this, drifting from one extreme to another: full-blown cigarette smoker to full-time runner to balls-to-the-wall literary aficionado. I can't say [without being uncertain].
Anyways, Florida was...
-Megan pissed me off.
From changing her itinerary because she didn't want to go to church on Christmas morning (instead of arriving on the 23rd and having to do a few chores, she decided it'd be more convenient to have me pick her up from the airport on Christmas day. Also, I'm not Catholic, nor am I religious, but I'll accompany my 92-year-old grandmother to church, especially after she paid for me to visit her. Furthermore, I don't think my [nor her] mind is susceptible to being converted because I attended one mass, if that's what she was worried about) to insisting that she take a shower at six in the morning when the only flight in jeopardy of being missed is the one that would carry me, Wil, and Hank-- an hour and a half before her flight was scheduled to board.
Then there was the Frango mint cookie:
Megan is dating a boy named Jeremy, who's 35 (though only in age an insecurity. As far as maturity is concerned, I'd say he's no older than 17). It's sufficient to say that my family doesn't like him. More than not liking him, we dislike him. It's not just that he's so insecure of his vertical deficiency that he doesn't let Megan wear high heels, nor is our disdain for him derived solely from his drinking problems; it's because he's a little bitch, in a very general way. I could tally all the little things that make up this assessment, but that would take too much time and delve too far into specific scenarios. What it all boils down to is his lack of self-control. Here's what I mean: he gets jealous of Megan. As far as I know, this jealousy is irrational. Megan has never cheated on him, nor has she tried to.
All trust aside, though, this time could be different. Maybe she's not picking up her phone because she's seeing/meeting/banging other dudes? When this plausible/unrealistic situation arises, it's best to call Megan as many times as possible, leaving a variety of Jekyll/Hyde messages on her answering machine.
Anyways, my sister's stupid for putting up with him and letting get away with this kind of thing, but I've digressed. My point was to paint a picture of this guy that can accurately depict the view from my mind's eye, which is very similar to what my mom sees. Here's the story I've been meaning to tell:
Every year my mom makes several different kinds of Christmas cookies, ranging in variety from candy-cane cookies (which are shaped like candy canes and incorporate bits and pieces of real-life, honest-to-god candy canes) to Bourbon Balls (essentially, bourbon and dough).
As our stay in Florida was coming to an end, while Wil and Mom were putting together a puzzle, I was coming downstairs to find a seat on a couch to ingest as much of My Ishmael as I could. As had become my routine, I passed through the kitchen on my way from the second floor to the living room (which is on the first floor). Down I went, spiraling quickly down the metal and carpet staircase, past the bookshelf with the C.S. Lewis and the presidential biographies, through the first doorway (devoid of a door), then immediately to the right and through the next doorway (devoid of a door), and into the kitchen. Within a foot of the entrance stood a cart, and on the cart lay round, tin cookie containers. At this point I was familiar with the contents of each and went for the green tin: Frango Mint cookies!-- always the best choice.
But, oh!, just two left!
and they were mine
unless I'd risk a stomach bereft...
not this time!
nor any other.
So I reached and grabbed and ate the first one whole, knowing a second would be on the way.
But from behind, and slightly to the right, like a tower leaning towards me with searchlights wondering (eye-balling, searching? monitoring?), was my sister.
At first unworthy,
our minds seeing eye-to-eye,
but with her motives ulterior
our differences opined.
"It's for my boyfriend, who no one vouches for aside from me, and, even then, only occasionally," she determined.
To be continued...
Monday, December 20, 2010
Sometimes Our Dreams Float Like Anchors
When I got to work, an idea struck me: why not try disengaging the car alarm from the passenger side? Before going to work, though, I had dropped the car off to a mechanic who's a friend of my mom.
I probably mentioned how to cylinder on the handle of the door of the car-- the one in which the key is inserted to lock or unlock the car-- came out. That was about a week ago. Last night I decided to show Will. After successfully removing said cylinder, I unsuccessfully tried putting it back in its place. This caused the door to reject my attempts to shut it. Once I was at the edge of frustration, I jammed the cylinder all the way into the door handle-- which caused all the windows the go down.
Eric (the mechanic) said it probably wasn't a blown fuse, but that the car alarm must be engaged. Basically, there are five positions for the car key. On the first turn of the key, it will lock the car or unlock only the driver's door. On the second unlocking turn, it will unlock the passenger's door. It's on the third turn (which I did not realize was an option) that all the windows go down. Whatever I did forewent the first two options and, yeah, all my windows were down and refused to go back up.
I drove to the gas station but couldn't find help. After seeing a movie with Lucy last night, Aaron let me put my car in his mom's garage. Today, before work, I drove it from the garage to Eric's garage at Damen and Division.
There's a smell in the cabin
and my dad's window's cracked
and the cold air drifts in
from the front to the back
as my knees reach out
to that seat in front of me
I feel something comforting
and know it's olfactory
But now that it's over
I can only sit and wonder
is it just a memory
that I didn't enjoy making?
Like romanticized longing
for that boring girl
that I kind of dated
but didn't care for
the one nostalgia
makes me miss more and more?
Or is everything sincere?
I remember you left the strongest scent
on my mind the night we met
it had settled on my pillow
and crept quickly to my head
like a song played on the black keys
or a fired piece of lead
So the snow is falling, work is slow, and I'm going home.
I probably mentioned how to cylinder on the handle of the door of the car-- the one in which the key is inserted to lock or unlock the car-- came out. That was about a week ago. Last night I decided to show Will. After successfully removing said cylinder, I unsuccessfully tried putting it back in its place. This caused the door to reject my attempts to shut it. Once I was at the edge of frustration, I jammed the cylinder all the way into the door handle-- which caused all the windows the go down.
Eric (the mechanic) said it probably wasn't a blown fuse, but that the car alarm must be engaged. Basically, there are five positions for the car key. On the first turn of the key, it will lock the car or unlock only the driver's door. On the second unlocking turn, it will unlock the passenger's door. It's on the third turn (which I did not realize was an option) that all the windows go down. Whatever I did forewent the first two options and, yeah, all my windows were down and refused to go back up.
I drove to the gas station but couldn't find help. After seeing a movie with Lucy last night, Aaron let me put my car in his mom's garage. Today, before work, I drove it from the garage to Eric's garage at Damen and Division.
There's a smell in the cabin
and my dad's window's cracked
and the cold air drifts in
from the front to the back
as my knees reach out
to that seat in front of me
I feel something comforting
and know it's olfactory
But now that it's over
I can only sit and wonder
is it just a memory
that I didn't enjoy making?
Like romanticized longing
for that boring girl
that I kind of dated
but didn't care for
the one nostalgia
makes me miss more and more?
Or is everything sincere?
I remember you left the strongest scent
on my mind the night we met
it had settled on my pillow
and crept quickly to my head
like a song played on the black keys
or a fired piece of lead
So the snow is falling, work is slow, and I'm going home.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
"Good luck with your toilet!"
Aaron recently asked me how I can eat the same thing all the time. Here's what he means:
when I go shopping, I buy bananas, yogurt, milk, cereal, slices of ham, bagels, vegetable or chive cream cheese, a few Clif bars, orange juice, apple juice, cheese sticks, spaghetti or fettucine and tomato basil or alfredo sauce, and, occasionally, a bottle or two of mineral water. This makes for cereal, yogurt, and a banana for breakfast, a toasted bagel with cream cheese and a slice of ham for lunch, a cheese stick wrapped in ham for a snack, and pasta for dinner. Sometimes I'll splurge and buy a glass bottle of Pepsi or Coke, but I'm usually drinking milk, apple or orange juice, and water. How am I okay with this?
Well, first of all, I think there's some variety in what I buy. I know I need carbohydrates so I don't wake up exhausted; I need calcium so I can keep my nearly 23-year streak of not breaking a bone alive; I need potassium to, y'know, not spend too much time in the bathroom; vitamin C is necessary so I'm not solely relying on coffee and cigarettes to keep me awake; and the rest is sustenance, I suppose. I know the best diets tend to avoid red meat, but I don't think the amount of ham I eat is very consequential.
That said, I try to look at effects of the food I eat before I indulge-- I would rather eat a vegetable sandwich and a cup of water (because, afterward, I'll feel ready to run a marathon or beat Hank in a game of basketball) than a delicious bacon/bleu cheese burger with an egg on top (which will do nothing past putting me in a coma).
This hasn't always been the case. Throughout high school, the only days I'd eat breakfast would be when my dad cooked me eggs as an incentive to get up on time (I usually rousted myself to be polite, not for the eggs). I've worked many hours on an empty stomach, just as I've drank lots of coffee and smoked lots of cigarettes on an empty stomach; I'm more than familiar with the pangs of hunger and the thought of food never satiated my mind. When I enjoy food, it's usually because of the people I'm with. Sushi with Lucy tastes romantic, french toast with Aaron and Danny tastes comfortable, and a hot dog, cheese fries, and a Pepsi with shreds of ice from Demon Dogs tastes like home (well, maybe not home-- my mom's cooking is far above par... Demon Dogs tastes like my best friend's house. Yeah).
Because of my tendency to associate good friends with good food, I have no reason to find the food I'm eating to be particularly good or bad. Since there's no immediate reward (as far as taste is concerned), then I might as well consider the long-term reward (or punishment). I don't know of any long-term reward for eating a bucket of fried chicken or a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, so I might as well eat Honey Bunches of Oats and a banana.
My mindset in regard to eating is much like Aaron's toward his car: use premium, change the oil regularly, keep it clean (instead of higher octane, I go for organic).
On the other hand, his mindset (that I'm crediting him with, but know that I've never discussed this with him so every claim I'm making is merely an inference that may or may not be entirely correct) on the topic of food is similar to the way I view sleeping: it's always gotta hit the spot. I sleep when I have to, when I want to, and when I have nothing better to do. I'm not trying to say that Aaron's always eating, but from what I've seen he always has to be completely satisfied. If I need another hour of sleep (which I know will make me late for class), then I'll take that extra hour.
Of course there are exceptions. I went on a Twinkie/cupcake rampage recently, and I also drink a good amount of beer and I smoke cigarettes and drink too much coffee and sometimes I smoke weed. Sometimes I stay up all night and rely on energy drinks and one day last May I ate at McDonald's twice in one day.
Anyways, my work day is nearly done. To sum things up: people do things that I don't understand. I do things that other people don't understand. I make these comparisons all the time and I'll eventually learn if this is beneficial or detrimental.
when I go shopping, I buy bananas, yogurt, milk, cereal, slices of ham, bagels, vegetable or chive cream cheese, a few Clif bars, orange juice, apple juice, cheese sticks, spaghetti or fettucine and tomato basil or alfredo sauce, and, occasionally, a bottle or two of mineral water. This makes for cereal, yogurt, and a banana for breakfast, a toasted bagel with cream cheese and a slice of ham for lunch, a cheese stick wrapped in ham for a snack, and pasta for dinner. Sometimes I'll splurge and buy a glass bottle of Pepsi or Coke, but I'm usually drinking milk, apple or orange juice, and water. How am I okay with this?
Well, first of all, I think there's some variety in what I buy. I know I need carbohydrates so I don't wake up exhausted; I need calcium so I can keep my nearly 23-year streak of not breaking a bone alive; I need potassium to, y'know, not spend too much time in the bathroom; vitamin C is necessary so I'm not solely relying on coffee and cigarettes to keep me awake; and the rest is sustenance, I suppose. I know the best diets tend to avoid red meat, but I don't think the amount of ham I eat is very consequential.
That said, I try to look at effects of the food I eat before I indulge-- I would rather eat a vegetable sandwich and a cup of water (because, afterward, I'll feel ready to run a marathon or beat Hank in a game of basketball) than a delicious bacon/bleu cheese burger with an egg on top (which will do nothing past putting me in a coma).
This hasn't always been the case. Throughout high school, the only days I'd eat breakfast would be when my dad cooked me eggs as an incentive to get up on time (I usually rousted myself to be polite, not for the eggs). I've worked many hours on an empty stomach, just as I've drank lots of coffee and smoked lots of cigarettes on an empty stomach; I'm more than familiar with the pangs of hunger and the thought of food never satiated my mind. When I enjoy food, it's usually because of the people I'm with. Sushi with Lucy tastes romantic, french toast with Aaron and Danny tastes comfortable, and a hot dog, cheese fries, and a Pepsi with shreds of ice from Demon Dogs tastes like home (well, maybe not home-- my mom's cooking is far above par... Demon Dogs tastes like my best friend's house. Yeah).
Because of my tendency to associate good friends with good food, I have no reason to find the food I'm eating to be particularly good or bad. Since there's no immediate reward (as far as taste is concerned), then I might as well consider the long-term reward (or punishment). I don't know of any long-term reward for eating a bucket of fried chicken or a bowl of Cinnamon Toast Crunch, so I might as well eat Honey Bunches of Oats and a banana.
My mindset in regard to eating is much like Aaron's toward his car: use premium, change the oil regularly, keep it clean (instead of higher octane, I go for organic).
On the other hand, his mindset (that I'm crediting him with, but know that I've never discussed this with him so every claim I'm making is merely an inference that may or may not be entirely correct) on the topic of food is similar to the way I view sleeping: it's always gotta hit the spot. I sleep when I have to, when I want to, and when I have nothing better to do. I'm not trying to say that Aaron's always eating, but from what I've seen he always has to be completely satisfied. If I need another hour of sleep (which I know will make me late for class), then I'll take that extra hour.
Of course there are exceptions. I went on a Twinkie/cupcake rampage recently, and I also drink a good amount of beer and I smoke cigarettes and drink too much coffee and sometimes I smoke weed. Sometimes I stay up all night and rely on energy drinks and one day last May I ate at McDonald's twice in one day.
Anyways, my work day is nearly done. To sum things up: people do things that I don't understand. I do things that other people don't understand. I make these comparisons all the time and I'll eventually learn if this is beneficial or detrimental.
Tuesday, December 14, 2010
Smoke-free Since Monday
So yesterday went off without incident. I didn't smoke any cigarettes and I had one cup of coffee-- granted, I had nothing to do aside from walking Toby.
Today, though, I was going strong. My stash of Lucky Strikes ran out two nights ago, so I figured I'd take that as a good excuse to excuse my lungs for the next few months. But then AJ came into the coffee shop. I told him I was taking a break, which he took to mean that I was taking a break from work and that'd I'd love to step outside and burn one. I didn't feel like explaining, nor did I feel like awkwardly standing out in the cold while he smoked, so I joined him. I feel like that airport sign in the Simpsons that read something like "Crash-free since Tuesday" as a plane in the background is crashing. I don't plan on dwelling on the subject much more, but I always say that and the dwelling never caves in.
I'm trying to read more, lately. Well, that's not exactly true. Sometimes I get weird hankering the constantly read, much the way that I do to smoke a lot of cigarettes or strictly eat beneficial foods. After I finish this book of essays, I plan on reading As I Lay Dying, then either Demons or The Idiot. That may be a tall order, especially with my friends being in town and the amount of drinking that usually takes place (not to mention my week backbone that I displayed earlier this evening).
Oh, Life, your beauty is not always visible from the windows in this coffee shop.
Today, though, I was going strong. My stash of Lucky Strikes ran out two nights ago, so I figured I'd take that as a good excuse to excuse my lungs for the next few months. But then AJ came into the coffee shop. I told him I was taking a break, which he took to mean that I was taking a break from work and that'd I'd love to step outside and burn one. I didn't feel like explaining, nor did I feel like awkwardly standing out in the cold while he smoked, so I joined him. I feel like that airport sign in the Simpsons that read something like "Crash-free since Tuesday" as a plane in the background is crashing. I don't plan on dwelling on the subject much more, but I always say that and the dwelling never caves in.
I'm trying to read more, lately. Well, that's not exactly true. Sometimes I get weird hankering the constantly read, much the way that I do to smoke a lot of cigarettes or strictly eat beneficial foods. After I finish this book of essays, I plan on reading As I Lay Dying, then either Demons or The Idiot. That may be a tall order, especially with my friends being in town and the amount of drinking that usually takes place (not to mention my week backbone that I displayed earlier this evening).
Oh, Life, your beauty is not always visible from the windows in this coffee shop.
Sunday, December 12, 2010
It's So Fucking Cold Here, Since You Brought In the Snow
My mind is blank as the white canvas that sits in the fresh snow storm. And the wind blows in six directions to keep me off guard. My exposed neck chose a bad day to lose its scarf. Yeah, it's cold, but the light glistens on the ground and the hidden windshields and hoods of cars to keep our eyes warm. All my friends keep passing through for a hot cup of coffee, leaving my temperature suspended as I'm always on the move.
Santa Lucia has yet to be stabbed so we keep our hands warm in her fire and wonder if she was a saint or a witch. But time withholds only the pertinent information pertaining to the facts that we model our lives around. Oh, these stories burn out or boil down with the witches in the pot, yet we hold them with such high regard.
I heard of a new way to play chess. It's backwards, pretty much. Two players start with an empty board and add pieces one at a time, strategically (or randomly) placing them. One opponent can't take the other's until the king is put down (incorporating the king, in this game, is called "engaging" the board"). I'm intrigued.
Santa Lucia has yet to be stabbed so we keep our hands warm in her fire and wonder if she was a saint or a witch. But time withholds only the pertinent information pertaining to the facts that we model our lives around. Oh, these stories burn out or boil down with the witches in the pot, yet we hold them with such high regard.
I heard of a new way to play chess. It's backwards, pretty much. Two players start with an empty board and add pieces one at a time, strategically (or randomly) placing them. One opponent can't take the other's until the king is put down (incorporating the king, in this game, is called "engaging" the board"). I'm intrigued.
Saturday, December 11, 2010
Just the Same Old Thing
I probably smell terrible.
Dave's birthday celebration was last night, so we drank. And drank. And I saw Dave take shot after shot, like a professional. It was a good night. Aaron dropped me, Sam, and Lucy off at my mom's place around 2:30 and I went to bed about an hour later.
Oh, so about the smell: the Underarmour shirt I have is really comfortable, but it amplifies an bad odors that my body makes. Well, it keep everything in until it isn't possible to contain it any more, then it releases these odors through the armpit area. Basically, since I slept in that shirt, I was marinating in some pretty bad sweat all night. I didn't get to shower before work because I was busy and running late and needed tacos and had to meet my mom's new dog. And walk Toby.
So now I'm at work, smelling like the guy who often passes out on our outside chairs, and I'm eyeballing a cupcake. I've had a few cups of coffee, two cheese sticks, and I've got a banana and yogurt to further satisfy my hunger.
I'm on my last pack of cigarettes and it's nearing the halfway point. I don't know how I feel about this. I mean, I'm going to stop eventually (especially if I'm not getting them dirt-cheap), but the whole process of quitting is pretty terrible and I don't know if I'm up for it yet. It's not like this past spring where I quit and had a bike to ride and streets to run... but the weather sucks right now, so I'd probably end up being irritable in my room. Then again, going outside to smoke in the cold or the rain isn't exactly optimal, either. Hm... tough call. Oh, and another thing: when I quit, I either get a boost of serotonin (or some other kind of happiness), or I get sad. Regardless, I usually become introverted. I suppose this could be a good opportunity to catch up on some reading and writing and being healthy. And maybe I could re-teach my fingers to play the guitar.
One thing I know is that I should stop spending so much money. And what's a good way to kick off a lack-of-spending-spree? Well, how about some fine purchases of books and records and clothing?
Alright, back to work.
Dave's birthday celebration was last night, so we drank. And drank. And I saw Dave take shot after shot, like a professional. It was a good night. Aaron dropped me, Sam, and Lucy off at my mom's place around 2:30 and I went to bed about an hour later.
Oh, so about the smell: the Underarmour shirt I have is really comfortable, but it amplifies an bad odors that my body makes. Well, it keep everything in until it isn't possible to contain it any more, then it releases these odors through the armpit area. Basically, since I slept in that shirt, I was marinating in some pretty bad sweat all night. I didn't get to shower before work because I was busy and running late and needed tacos and had to meet my mom's new dog. And walk Toby.
So now I'm at work, smelling like the guy who often passes out on our outside chairs, and I'm eyeballing a cupcake. I've had a few cups of coffee, two cheese sticks, and I've got a banana and yogurt to further satisfy my hunger.
I'm on my last pack of cigarettes and it's nearing the halfway point. I don't know how I feel about this. I mean, I'm going to stop eventually (especially if I'm not getting them dirt-cheap), but the whole process of quitting is pretty terrible and I don't know if I'm up for it yet. It's not like this past spring where I quit and had a bike to ride and streets to run... but the weather sucks right now, so I'd probably end up being irritable in my room. Then again, going outside to smoke in the cold or the rain isn't exactly optimal, either. Hm... tough call. Oh, and another thing: when I quit, I either get a boost of serotonin (or some other kind of happiness), or I get sad. Regardless, I usually become introverted. I suppose this could be a good opportunity to catch up on some reading and writing and being healthy. And maybe I could re-teach my fingers to play the guitar.
One thing I know is that I should stop spending so much money. And what's a good way to kick off a lack-of-spending-spree? Well, how about some fine purchases of books and records and clothing?
Alright, back to work.
Wednesday, December 8, 2010
Never Going Back to School Again, No I'm Never Going Back to School Again
So I aced my midterm, plagiarized my paper, and the semester is over. That's a load of my nuts-- I can now sit around and avoid doing homework in peace, instead of with some lingering fear of impending doom. Excellent.
The first thing I did was buy a cup of coffee from Starbucks, in idealistic hope that it will be the last time I subject myself to such a place. I took that to my car to partake in my ritualistic car-warm-up cigarette and, when approached by a guy in a car looking for a spot, proceeded to put my car in reverse without using the clutch. The noise it made was the ugliest I've heard all week. I drove to the bookstore, sold my text book for $21, then went to Reckless and bought the Dan Auerbach record for $20.86.
Now I'm at work and I feel like I just went through a break-up. This guy had come in a few times, about two or three weeks ago, wanting us to hire him as our window cleaner. He smiled like Michael Clarke Duncan, pitched his product like a street vendor in the '20s, and wore winter gloves made of rubber. Had I known we already had a window guy, I wouldn't have led this man on. I didn't, though, so I accepted when he insisted on giving us some free samples as a way of making a commendable impression. Back to present time: he comes in, upset about finding out that no one had told him we didn't have any openings in his department, and down to his last option: asking for a tip. "Here's a tip: get a real job." Haha, I didn't say that. I told him it wasn't my call and that I wasn't going to shell out my own cash for a business I don't own or run.
Hm... what else? Oh, so I've been getting a lot of looks today. Either my greasy, rarely-shampooed hair is finally paying off or... well, maybe I had a booger in my nose.
That's it. School's done for the semester and I may take the next one off. I managed to be on-time to one class this semester-- today's. And last night I doubled the number of hours I've studied all semester. Am I a bad student if I manage to get a good grade?
The first thing I did was buy a cup of coffee from Starbucks, in idealistic hope that it will be the last time I subject myself to such a place. I took that to my car to partake in my ritualistic car-warm-up cigarette and, when approached by a guy in a car looking for a spot, proceeded to put my car in reverse without using the clutch. The noise it made was the ugliest I've heard all week. I drove to the bookstore, sold my text book for $21, then went to Reckless and bought the Dan Auerbach record for $20.86.
Now I'm at work and I feel like I just went through a break-up. This guy had come in a few times, about two or three weeks ago, wanting us to hire him as our window cleaner. He smiled like Michael Clarke Duncan, pitched his product like a street vendor in the '20s, and wore winter gloves made of rubber. Had I known we already had a window guy, I wouldn't have led this man on. I didn't, though, so I accepted when he insisted on giving us some free samples as a way of making a commendable impression. Back to present time: he comes in, upset about finding out that no one had told him we didn't have any openings in his department, and down to his last option: asking for a tip. "Here's a tip: get a real job." Haha, I didn't say that. I told him it wasn't my call and that I wasn't going to shell out my own cash for a business I don't own or run.
Hm... what else? Oh, so I've been getting a lot of looks today. Either my greasy, rarely-shampooed hair is finally paying off or... well, maybe I had a booger in my nose.
That's it. School's done for the semester and I may take the next one off. I managed to be on-time to one class this semester-- today's. And last night I doubled the number of hours I've studied all semester. Am I a bad student if I manage to get a good grade?
Tuesday, December 7, 2010
Young Offenders
My sincerest apologies for the short, cheap poetry I occasionally attempt.
Anyways, I got to thinking the other day about what makes me upset. Or what upsets me. Essentially, I can only be irritated if I'm jonesing for a cigarette or a cup of coffee, or if what I'm trying to avoid doing will directly screw over a person that shouldn't be screwed over. Aside from that, I tend to take full responsibility for everything that goes awry. Here's what I mean:
The phrase "you reap what you sow" makes a lot of sense to me. For instance, if I don't "sow" my homework," I won't "reap" and a good grade. That's fair. If I don't "sow" gas into my tank, I won't "reap" a running vehicle. And if I "sow" leaving-my-house-late-every-day, then I "reap" awkward-late-arrival-to-class.
I always figured this kind of mindset should go without saying, until Spanish class last year: a girl arrived half an hour late for the... I don't know, seventh time in a row, maybe. The teacher calls her out on this, and the girl proceeds to blame the teacher, the train, and the system of time-keeping that has been the standard for as long as I can remember. She didn't, interestingly enough, blame herself. The most memorable line went something like, "How can you expect me to get here by 9 o'clock every morning!?" I laughed (I'm late all the time, too, so I can assume that my laugh was especially insulting to this girl's crumbling perception of the world). I would have understood had this girl not had the opportunity to choose her own schedule and, for that matter, whether or not she would intend school in the first place.
I guess the only thing I'm trying to get at is some kind of justification for not stressing myself out and, simultaneously, laughing at people who do.
So yeah, that's it. It's more fun to treat life like a game: the train was late, which wasn't really my fault, but now it's something I have to deal with. Instead of making excuses for myself, I'll just ride out the day. If my teacher or boss gives me trouble for being late, I might mention why but I won't waste anybody's time trying to stress the point that "this wasn't my fault!" I, for one, do not care.
Sometimes this place feels more like an opium den than a coffee shop. The silence is awkward or intense or reminiscent of the past when I couldn't speak up to keep the bullies off my brother or the liquor out of my uncle. When the conversation comes it's in waves that beach unwanted fiends and addicts. And it isn't permitted to lay in the calm of the storm, so my feet wade in the limited reach of the lake while my eyes peer in a straight line about a hundred feet out and make sure the weather is still welcoming. Then the lighthouse turns my way, leading needed ships astray, or docking wreckage underneath my knees while I mean to pray for those that find them. But I don't (because that would be stupid).
Anyways, I got to thinking the other day about what makes me upset. Or what upsets me. Essentially, I can only be irritated if I'm jonesing for a cigarette or a cup of coffee, or if what I'm trying to avoid doing will directly screw over a person that shouldn't be screwed over. Aside from that, I tend to take full responsibility for everything that goes awry. Here's what I mean:
The phrase "you reap what you sow" makes a lot of sense to me. For instance, if I don't "sow" my homework," I won't "reap" and a good grade. That's fair. If I don't "sow" gas into my tank, I won't "reap" a running vehicle. And if I "sow" leaving-my-house-late-every-day, then I "reap" awkward-late-arrival-to-class.
I always figured this kind of mindset should go without saying, until Spanish class last year: a girl arrived half an hour late for the... I don't know, seventh time in a row, maybe. The teacher calls her out on this, and the girl proceeds to blame the teacher, the train, and the system of time-keeping that has been the standard for as long as I can remember. She didn't, interestingly enough, blame herself. The most memorable line went something like, "How can you expect me to get here by 9 o'clock every morning!?" I laughed (I'm late all the time, too, so I can assume that my laugh was especially insulting to this girl's crumbling perception of the world). I would have understood had this girl not had the opportunity to choose her own schedule and, for that matter, whether or not she would intend school in the first place.
I guess the only thing I'm trying to get at is some kind of justification for not stressing myself out and, simultaneously, laughing at people who do.
So yeah, that's it. It's more fun to treat life like a game: the train was late, which wasn't really my fault, but now it's something I have to deal with. Instead of making excuses for myself, I'll just ride out the day. If my teacher or boss gives me trouble for being late, I might mention why but I won't waste anybody's time trying to stress the point that "this wasn't my fault!" I, for one, do not care.
Sometimes this place feels more like an opium den than a coffee shop. The silence is awkward or intense or reminiscent of the past when I couldn't speak up to keep the bullies off my brother or the liquor out of my uncle. When the conversation comes it's in waves that beach unwanted fiends and addicts. And it isn't permitted to lay in the calm of the storm, so my feet wade in the limited reach of the lake while my eyes peer in a straight line about a hundred feet out and make sure the weather is still welcoming. Then the lighthouse turns my way, leading needed ships astray, or docking wreckage underneath my knees while I mean to pray for those that find them. But I don't (because that would be stupid).
Saturday, December 4, 2010
Goodnight, Stella, your eyes are closed. The door is locked and the coffee's old; the snow is down but the clouds are gone and again it's time to go.
And there's a pretty girl outside waiting for me. And her bike is locked and she's shivering under the birdcage hanging in the tree.
I made her come and I made her go, she wanted to stay but I said no. She won't be the girl waiting with me while I grow old.
And there's a pretty girl outside waiting for me. And her bike is locked and she's shivering under the birdcage hanging in the tree.
I made her come and I made her go, she wanted to stay but I said no. She won't be the girl waiting with me while I grow old.
Wednesday, December 1, 2010
Thing's ain't like they used to be
Something's happening. Or maybe nothing's happening.
Last night, once I got home from work, my only motivation to lift a finger was to change channels between Life (the unfunny Eddie Murphy-Martin Lawrence drama) and Ali G Indahouse.
I can still talk up a storm about writing or being in a band, but when it comes to sitting down and getting something done, my brain won't turn over (much like the engine in Aaron's car this morning).
Here are a few theories about why I feel worthless:
-it's cold out.
Yep, it's below 30 and the wind makes it feel like the lower 20s. This past spring, I was out every day that the weather permitted me to be. It was awesome. I rode my bike to and from Lincoln Park almost every day, I read several books, I'd sit at the beach and enjoy my life... Yeah, those were the days. I also had no girlfriend, wasn't smoking cigarettes, didn't hang out with many friends, and didn't have a real job (this is back when I was working for my old man).
The last of my warm Chicago days were spent on top of my motorcycle, having as much fun as I could without being pulled over.
-I'm not doing well in school.
I've lost motivation. I did three or four straight semesters with good grades but this one began too fast. I'm burnt out and... I don't know.
-it's chemical
Uh, yeah, nothing I can do about that. Except stop smoking and drinking and eating Twinkies. Ah ha! Maybe my diet isn't consistent enough. Meh, my body should be able to withstand a little anarchy.
-I drink too much coffee/smoke too many cigarettes/drink too often.
I guess this goes with the chemical thing. Or, actually, it can account for me feeling too tightly wound.
So now that the semester's almost finished, I'm in the mood to learn something. Bad timing.
Oh fuck, it's December. I should probably read one more book before the year is done. Speaking of "fuck" and "the year," this year kind of sucked. It was fun, sure, and I crossed lots of things off my list that I never intended on crossing off, like getting robbed and buying a motorcycle. Maybe I should take inventory real quick.
2010: In The Beginning
Where did you bring in the New Year?: Lucy's house
Who were you with?: most of my friends, plus plenty of people i didn't know/like. Tiki was sloppy drunk so, after he nearly broke Pinya's television, I drove him back to Sam's place.
Did you kiss anyone at midnight?: Lucy was mad at me. I might have tried to kiss her but I'm not sure.
Did you make any resolutions?: get robbed more often.
2010: Your Love Life
Did you break up with anyone?: Yes, Lucy, and I was bitter that she hadn't broken up with me the way that politician's resign when their misdeeds come to light.
Did you get anything for Valentine's day?: I doubt it. I also probably acted like an asshole.
Did you meet anyone special?: No one is special to me.
Did you fall in love? No.
2010: Friends and Enemies
Did you meet any new friends this year? this coffee shop is full of good folks.
Did any of your friendships end?: no
Did you dislike anyone?: absolutely.
Did you make any new enemies?: at least one.
Did you resolve any fights?: yes, several... then i resumed them.
Who was your closest friend? Sam and I got drunk a lot, Matsuo and I had a few good talks. Danny's always a good friend (even when he doesn't hang out).
Who did you grow apart from?: Dave has a girlfriend and a job and school.. he doesn't hang out much.
Do you have any regrets when it comes to your friendships?: i surround myself with people who drink a lot. and i distance myself from people who really care about me. and i don't often have "good, wholesome fun," unless it's featuring beer.
2010: Your BIRTHDAY!!!
Did you have a cake? yeah, but i don't remember if it was on my birthday. and i don't like cake (just pumpkin pie).
Did you have a party?: Lucy took me out to a movie and sushi, then she arranged for some friends to meet us at Whirlaway. That was a good surprise.
Did you get any presents? probably. my memory of that day is kind of hazy
If so what was the best thing you got?: Vivian got me a giant card that played the Star Wars theme song.
2010: All about YOU
Did you change at all this year?:Yes. And no. I quit smoking from May-October, learned how to ride a motorcycle and drive stick, crashed on a scooter three times...
Did you dye your hair?: no.
Did you get your hair cut?: yes, a few times.
Did you change your style?: i bought some white t-shirts, but now they have pit stains.
Were you in school?: yeah. spring and summer were good semester. fall isn't a good one.
Did you get good grades?: here and there.
Did you have a job?: worked for my old man for a bit... walked toby, been working at Stella since the end of June.
Did you drive?: yes.
Did you own a car?: Cabrio
Did anyone close to you give birth?: nope.
Did you move at all?: yeah, from just south of Devon on Lakewood to just west of Lakewood on Columbia.
Did you go on any vacations?: Denver in March or April, western New York in July or August.
Did you leave the country at all?: nope.
Would you change anything about yourself now?: I'd be fine with not being to related to Alkaline Trio's "Another Innocent Girl" so much. Y'know, I could go for being less of an asshole or something. And I wouldn't mind having a few more goals.
2010: Wrap Up.
Is 2010 a good year?: a few ups, several downs.
What was the best thing about 2010? knowing it will soon be over.
Did 2010 bring any new insights?: yeah: don't pace back and forth while holding an expensive phone in a bad neighborhood. and don't leave the oven on unless I want carbon monoxide poisoning (which case I shouldn't leave the battery in the detector).
Do you think 2011 will top 2010?: i hope so but i'm not too optimistic at this point.
If you could relive any moment which would you choose?: getting robbed, being single and content, peeing on tiki's floor.
Last night, once I got home from work, my only motivation to lift a finger was to change channels between Life (the unfunny Eddie Murphy-Martin Lawrence drama) and Ali G Indahouse.
I can still talk up a storm about writing or being in a band, but when it comes to sitting down and getting something done, my brain won't turn over (much like the engine in Aaron's car this morning).
Here are a few theories about why I feel worthless:
-it's cold out.
Yep, it's below 30 and the wind makes it feel like the lower 20s. This past spring, I was out every day that the weather permitted me to be. It was awesome. I rode my bike to and from Lincoln Park almost every day, I read several books, I'd sit at the beach and enjoy my life... Yeah, those were the days. I also had no girlfriend, wasn't smoking cigarettes, didn't hang out with many friends, and didn't have a real job (this is back when I was working for my old man).
The last of my warm Chicago days were spent on top of my motorcycle, having as much fun as I could without being pulled over.
-I'm not doing well in school.
I've lost motivation. I did three or four straight semesters with good grades but this one began too fast. I'm burnt out and... I don't know.
-it's chemical
Uh, yeah, nothing I can do about that. Except stop smoking and drinking and eating Twinkies. Ah ha! Maybe my diet isn't consistent enough. Meh, my body should be able to withstand a little anarchy.
-I drink too much coffee/smoke too many cigarettes/drink too often.
I guess this goes with the chemical thing. Or, actually, it can account for me feeling too tightly wound.
So now that the semester's almost finished, I'm in the mood to learn something. Bad timing.
Oh fuck, it's December. I should probably read one more book before the year is done. Speaking of "fuck" and "the year," this year kind of sucked. It was fun, sure, and I crossed lots of things off my list that I never intended on crossing off, like getting robbed and buying a motorcycle. Maybe I should take inventory real quick.
2010: In The Beginning
Where did you bring in the New Year?: Lucy's house
Who were you with?: most of my friends, plus plenty of people i didn't know/like. Tiki was sloppy drunk so, after he nearly broke Pinya's television, I drove him back to Sam's place.
Did you kiss anyone at midnight?: Lucy was mad at me. I might have tried to kiss her but I'm not sure.
Did you make any resolutions?: get robbed more often.
2010: Your Love Life
Did you break up with anyone?: Yes, Lucy, and I was bitter that she hadn't broken up with me the way that politician's resign when their misdeeds come to light.
Did you get anything for Valentine's day?: I doubt it. I also probably acted like an asshole.
Did you meet anyone special?: No one is special to me.
Did you fall in love? No.
2010: Friends and Enemies
Did you meet any new friends this year? this coffee shop is full of good folks.
Did any of your friendships end?: no
Did you dislike anyone?: absolutely.
Did you make any new enemies?: at least one.
Did you resolve any fights?: yes, several... then i resumed them.
Who was your closest friend? Sam and I got drunk a lot, Matsuo and I had a few good talks. Danny's always a good friend (even when he doesn't hang out).
Who did you grow apart from?: Dave has a girlfriend and a job and school.. he doesn't hang out much.
Do you have any regrets when it comes to your friendships?: i surround myself with people who drink a lot. and i distance myself from people who really care about me. and i don't often have "good, wholesome fun," unless it's featuring beer.
2010: Your BIRTHDAY!!!
Did you have a cake? yeah, but i don't remember if it was on my birthday. and i don't like cake (just pumpkin pie).
Did you have a party?: Lucy took me out to a movie and sushi, then she arranged for some friends to meet us at Whirlaway. That was a good surprise.
Did you get any presents? probably. my memory of that day is kind of hazy
If so what was the best thing you got?: Vivian got me a giant card that played the Star Wars theme song.
2010: All about YOU
Did you change at all this year?:Yes. And no. I quit smoking from May-October, learned how to ride a motorcycle and drive stick, crashed on a scooter three times...
Did you dye your hair?: no.
Did you get your hair cut?: yes, a few times.
Did you change your style?: i bought some white t-shirts, but now they have pit stains.
Were you in school?: yeah. spring and summer were good semester. fall isn't a good one.
Did you get good grades?: here and there.
Did you have a job?: worked for my old man for a bit... walked toby, been working at Stella since the end of June.
Did you drive?: yes.
Did you own a car?: Cabrio
Did anyone close to you give birth?: nope.
Did you move at all?: yeah, from just south of Devon on Lakewood to just west of Lakewood on Columbia.
Did you go on any vacations?: Denver in March or April, western New York in July or August.
Did you leave the country at all?: nope.
Would you change anything about yourself now?: I'd be fine with not being to related to Alkaline Trio's "Another Innocent Girl" so much. Y'know, I could go for being less of an asshole or something. And I wouldn't mind having a few more goals.
2010: Wrap Up.
Is 2010 a good year?: a few ups, several downs.
What was the best thing about 2010? knowing it will soon be over.
Did 2010 bring any new insights?: yeah: don't pace back and forth while holding an expensive phone in a bad neighborhood. and don't leave the oven on unless I want carbon monoxide poisoning (which case I shouldn't leave the battery in the detector).
Do you think 2011 will top 2010?: i hope so but i'm not too optimistic at this point.
If you could relive any moment which would you choose?: getting robbed, being single and content, peeing on tiki's floor.
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