Very short, no time to dawdle.
Helped with gardening all day.
Some asshole stopped in front of our house, opened up his passenger side door, leaned over and closed it, then drove away.
We thought that the door was just opened a bit and he stopped to close it.
Nope.
After he drove away, there was a little puppy in the middle of the road.
It is about 8 or 9 weeks old and a girl puppy.
She is loving and wonderful.
If anyone can give her a good home in the surrounding area, we will bring her to you.
I have named her 'StarFire'
Tonight we are going to the Metro to sing karaoke.
It is a gay bar, and the last time I was there, they were still asking about Josh Carson.
I will try and write more about my adventurous day later.
Stay Awesome.
Andy
Tuesday, July 28, 2009
Friday, July 24, 2009
and then there was rock.
As more things distract me from doing what is on my list of To-Do's, my silly blogs about silly things that mean nothing to you tend to take almost 48 hours to complete. you would think I could add some poignant things in here, but what would I be if 'Rambling Lunatic' wasn't something that described me?
Anyway, here's a thing:
Last night I embarked on a sentimental journey through the forgotten realms of Hell.
These are the levels that Dante thought about, then realized that they were much too tricky to describe.
The parts where mullets go to die.
And yet, they are embraced there too.
I entered a paradox of wondrous eye narcotics tonight.
It was good, yet the most evil I have encountered in my many years as Secretary of Inhuman Affairs. (not an actual position)
Tonight I went to a concert.
Not just any concert.
It was a family reunion of Cheap Trick, Poison and Def Leppard.
To say that it was epic would be saying the Titanic was a nice little yacht or that Seline Dion is pretty good at the banjo. (let your mind go with these things)
Here is my account of an evening that happened only 14 hours ago. No holds barred.
I just got home to Lisa and Jame's house. (From my Step Mom's place in Carmel, where I slept in the bed I slept in when Jr. High was a place to meet people and learn how to dismantle a gun.)I was staying there for a couple of days to help out my Dad. He has a bionic knee, and doesn't move very fast with heavy boxes of books.
Please enjoy.
Father and I enjoyed a nice afternoon of sifting through things.
He gave me many things, and bits of wonderful memories that I am surprised he parted with.
The last few days weren't as bad as I thought they would be. I still wish things were different, but at least both of them (Dad and Judy) know that I love them very dearly. Talking to Amanda helped calm my nerves, as I was about to lose my shit just before I spoke with her. Her timing is uncanny. Like an X-Man.
Lisa picked me up and we were on our way to Jason's (Fingers) house in Noblesville.
There, we ate and started to drink ourselves into a merry stupor.
Stephanie, his wife, and Sophia, their daughter were there to eat with us but did not partake in the rum that was flowing like an avalanche coming down a mountain.
As the time wore on, we were discussing the finer points of how to sneak booze into the concert venue.
I had brought a couple of stowaway airplane bottles that I thought were small enough to hide in a clever place. Sadly, my clever places meant my pants.
I managed to put two bottles in my 'down there' region. I did put them in a ziplock baggie so others might partake should they have become inclined. (and not discouraged by their proximity to my Man parts.
We knew we needed to bring the Rum, but had no way of getting the half gallon jug past security.
being the industrious and aspiring WC Fields that I am, I filled some baggies with the amber coloured Pirate kool aid and then double bagged them for quality assurance.
Lisa stuffed Andrea's bra with about a half bottle's worth of rum. I also filled two baggies and rolled them up in my sleeves, since I am prone to wearing a button down long sleeved shirt even on the hottest of days. But never a short sleeved shirt. never. Ever. It is my way...
So we are now walking to Deer Creek music Center that is now called 'Cell Phone Company that bought it and changed the name so everyone who come to this venue will suddenly switch carriers'
I still call it Deer Creek. I graduated high school there, and am a bit nostalgic. just a bit.
The place to rock is about a mile from Finger's house.
We went from fully developed housing areas that all were a shade of brown to areas that were about to become housing in varying shades of brown. Then we hit corn, and then we walked through the VIP gate of Deer Creek.
It was really just the area where all the Limos that people rented were parked, but we felt like VIP's anyway. First stop, of course was the port o pottie.
Since we walked in lieu of getting a ride from Stephanie, we missed Poison play that one song they play. (Just kidding)
Cheap Trick was breaking the hearts of girls who were not alive when Cheap Trick was a new band. And the amount of people there was amazing. I didn't think it would have been us and a couple other people, but Damn! It seems that these three bands found their target demographic with everyone anywhere ever. There must have been over five thousand, and I think I'm being stingy. We went to the police Cop who was checking ID's and stamping hands with the simple word 'Alcohol'
Fingers went first, and i think Lisa and Andrea got stamped too. i'm a little fuzzy on that.
When I met the PoliceCop, I pulled out my wallet (half in the bag already)and dropped my ticket. Fingers grabbed it for me. Thanks, Fingy. Then I struggled to get my ID out of the plastic thing in the wallet.
Then, as he was checking his memory about whether Minnesota is a real place of not, the two airplane bottles of booze fell out of my underwear. I guess they finally had enough, and now the gig was up. I didn't even get to see my one armed Def Leppard Drummer.
I guess Fingers, Lisa and Andrea saw the bottles fall out and were rolling on the ground laughing at me.
The PoliceCop didn't miss a beat (no pun intended) and said "If you drop one more thing, I'm not going to stamp you."
I told him I wouldn't. And he believed me. The fool!
Of course there was a tent set up where Camel was handing out free stuff, and as I am a sucker for free crap, we all went in and got free packs of smokes and some tins of Snus, that will never be used except for projectiles to hurl at the squirrels who are ruining Lisa and the girls garden at home.
Fingers decided it would be a good idea to spend $12 on a whiskey/coke in a plastic cup.
That's right.
Twelve American Dollars.
Six Dollars is too much, and twelve is 100% more than that.
I did however, think it was needed to pay $5 for a 20 ounce bottle of coke.
We needed something to put the rum in, didn't we?
And put the Rum in we did.
We found a spot to sit/stand in the nosebleed section of the lawn and everyone emptied our pockets/bras/ sleeves of booze that were now at body temp for easier absorption into our systems.
Then we listened to Def leppard sing about being cool and British. Very British. Even I wanted to help God save the Queen after it was done.
Cut to after the encore, and the thousands of people filed out. We just stayed on the blanket and dreamed about tomorrow or something.
When we did leave, I might have been a bit tipsy.
Just a touch.
I think my blood alcohol level was holding steady at around 56% Of my total blood.
No big deal.
Walking through an Indiana Summer night after being bombarded with rock music and booze is something I want all of you to experience.
Doing it with friends is a must, as they will keep you safe no matter what.
On second thought, no. No they won't.
I thought it would be a good idea to have a Gentleman's wager and claim that I didn't think that anyone would give me 5$ to go into the adjacent cornfield.
Lisa told me she would do just that.
And so I bolted into the corn that was just a bit shorter than I am.
Lisa decided she wanted to get eaten by a monster too, so she followed me directly.
Fingers and Andrea were watching us, walking along the drive, and listening to Lisa and I giggle at our cleverness. All the while, the top of my head was popping up over the stalks of corn. When we popped out along the road that would lead us back to Finger's house, I challenged a big sign to topple down. If that happened, I would have been the winner of an incredible prize: Another $5 from Lisa.
Sadly, the sign was very sturdy, though the passing cars were very supportive of me getting my prize money. They honked and cheered me on. to no avail...
Being bested by a sign that tells you than new homes started in the low 160's is humbling to a normal man.
Good thing I was enjoying the short term memory of a goldfish at that time.
As we strolled(stumbled) back through neighborhoods where the houses all look the same, I tripped and skinned my leg, just below the knee.
These things happen, and chicks dig scars.
By the time we got back to Finger's house, the girls were sober enough to drive home and for some reason we had the obligatory solar lights that I am so prone to acquire during nights of drunken revelry.
Lisa got me back to My step Mom's house and I slept the sleep of the just and true until my Dad got me up to load things into his storage space.
Now I am back in Irvington, and it is Annabeth's First Birthday.
I'm sure we will sit around watching her play with plastic cups and be completely oblivious to the fact that today is her most important day of the year.
But we will all be together, and that's all that matters.
In other news, I was told that Bill and Jen will be getting married next year, to which I exclaimed 'Whoo hoo' upon hearing.
Bill also asked on behalf of them both to officiate their wedding. I am very honored to be asked, and am looking forward to their big day in October 2010.
The days keep flying by for me here,and I am constantly asking myself what happens next.
Till what happens next,
Stay Awesome & Happy Birthday, AnniePants.
Andy
Anyway, here's a thing:
Last night I embarked on a sentimental journey through the forgotten realms of Hell.
These are the levels that Dante thought about, then realized that they were much too tricky to describe.
The parts where mullets go to die.
And yet, they are embraced there too.
I entered a paradox of wondrous eye narcotics tonight.
It was good, yet the most evil I have encountered in my many years as Secretary of Inhuman Affairs. (not an actual position)
Tonight I went to a concert.
Not just any concert.
It was a family reunion of Cheap Trick, Poison and Def Leppard.
To say that it was epic would be saying the Titanic was a nice little yacht or that Seline Dion is pretty good at the banjo. (let your mind go with these things)
Here is my account of an evening that happened only 14 hours ago. No holds barred.
I just got home to Lisa and Jame's house. (From my Step Mom's place in Carmel, where I slept in the bed I slept in when Jr. High was a place to meet people and learn how to dismantle a gun.)I was staying there for a couple of days to help out my Dad. He has a bionic knee, and doesn't move very fast with heavy boxes of books.
Please enjoy.
Father and I enjoyed a nice afternoon of sifting through things.
He gave me many things, and bits of wonderful memories that I am surprised he parted with.
The last few days weren't as bad as I thought they would be. I still wish things were different, but at least both of them (Dad and Judy) know that I love them very dearly. Talking to Amanda helped calm my nerves, as I was about to lose my shit just before I spoke with her. Her timing is uncanny. Like an X-Man.
Lisa picked me up and we were on our way to Jason's (Fingers) house in Noblesville.
There, we ate and started to drink ourselves into a merry stupor.
Stephanie, his wife, and Sophia, their daughter were there to eat with us but did not partake in the rum that was flowing like an avalanche coming down a mountain.
As the time wore on, we were discussing the finer points of how to sneak booze into the concert venue.
I had brought a couple of stowaway airplane bottles that I thought were small enough to hide in a clever place. Sadly, my clever places meant my pants.
I managed to put two bottles in my 'down there' region. I did put them in a ziplock baggie so others might partake should they have become inclined. (and not discouraged by their proximity to my Man parts.
We knew we needed to bring the Rum, but had no way of getting the half gallon jug past security.
being the industrious and aspiring WC Fields that I am, I filled some baggies with the amber coloured Pirate kool aid and then double bagged them for quality assurance.
Lisa stuffed Andrea's bra with about a half bottle's worth of rum. I also filled two baggies and rolled them up in my sleeves, since I am prone to wearing a button down long sleeved shirt even on the hottest of days. But never a short sleeved shirt. never. Ever. It is my way...
So we are now walking to Deer Creek music Center that is now called 'Cell Phone Company that bought it and changed the name so everyone who come to this venue will suddenly switch carriers'
I still call it Deer Creek. I graduated high school there, and am a bit nostalgic. just a bit.
The place to rock is about a mile from Finger's house.
We went from fully developed housing areas that all were a shade of brown to areas that were about to become housing in varying shades of brown. Then we hit corn, and then we walked through the VIP gate of Deer Creek.
It was really just the area where all the Limos that people rented were parked, but we felt like VIP's anyway. First stop, of course was the port o pottie.
Since we walked in lieu of getting a ride from Stephanie, we missed Poison play that one song they play. (Just kidding)
Cheap Trick was breaking the hearts of girls who were not alive when Cheap Trick was a new band. And the amount of people there was amazing. I didn't think it would have been us and a couple other people, but Damn! It seems that these three bands found their target demographic with everyone anywhere ever. There must have been over five thousand, and I think I'm being stingy. We went to the police Cop who was checking ID's and stamping hands with the simple word 'Alcohol'
Fingers went first, and i think Lisa and Andrea got stamped too. i'm a little fuzzy on that.
When I met the PoliceCop, I pulled out my wallet (half in the bag already)and dropped my ticket. Fingers grabbed it for me. Thanks, Fingy. Then I struggled to get my ID out of the plastic thing in the wallet.
Then, as he was checking his memory about whether Minnesota is a real place of not, the two airplane bottles of booze fell out of my underwear. I guess they finally had enough, and now the gig was up. I didn't even get to see my one armed Def Leppard Drummer.
I guess Fingers, Lisa and Andrea saw the bottles fall out and were rolling on the ground laughing at me.
The PoliceCop didn't miss a beat (no pun intended) and said "If you drop one more thing, I'm not going to stamp you."
I told him I wouldn't. And he believed me. The fool!
Of course there was a tent set up where Camel was handing out free stuff, and as I am a sucker for free crap, we all went in and got free packs of smokes and some tins of Snus, that will never be used except for projectiles to hurl at the squirrels who are ruining Lisa and the girls garden at home.
Fingers decided it would be a good idea to spend $12 on a whiskey/coke in a plastic cup.
That's right.
Twelve American Dollars.
Six Dollars is too much, and twelve is 100% more than that.
I did however, think it was needed to pay $5 for a 20 ounce bottle of coke.
We needed something to put the rum in, didn't we?
And put the Rum in we did.
We found a spot to sit/stand in the nosebleed section of the lawn and everyone emptied our pockets/bras/ sleeves of booze that were now at body temp for easier absorption into our systems.
Then we listened to Def leppard sing about being cool and British. Very British. Even I wanted to help God save the Queen after it was done.
Cut to after the encore, and the thousands of people filed out. We just stayed on the blanket and dreamed about tomorrow or something.
When we did leave, I might have been a bit tipsy.
Just a touch.
I think my blood alcohol level was holding steady at around 56% Of my total blood.
No big deal.
Walking through an Indiana Summer night after being bombarded with rock music and booze is something I want all of you to experience.
Doing it with friends is a must, as they will keep you safe no matter what.
On second thought, no. No they won't.
I thought it would be a good idea to have a Gentleman's wager and claim that I didn't think that anyone would give me 5$ to go into the adjacent cornfield.
Lisa told me she would do just that.
And so I bolted into the corn that was just a bit shorter than I am.
Lisa decided she wanted to get eaten by a monster too, so she followed me directly.
Fingers and Andrea were watching us, walking along the drive, and listening to Lisa and I giggle at our cleverness. All the while, the top of my head was popping up over the stalks of corn. When we popped out along the road that would lead us back to Finger's house, I challenged a big sign to topple down. If that happened, I would have been the winner of an incredible prize: Another $5 from Lisa.
Sadly, the sign was very sturdy, though the passing cars were very supportive of me getting my prize money. They honked and cheered me on. to no avail...
Being bested by a sign that tells you than new homes started in the low 160's is humbling to a normal man.
Good thing I was enjoying the short term memory of a goldfish at that time.
As we strolled(stumbled) back through neighborhoods where the houses all look the same, I tripped and skinned my leg, just below the knee.
These things happen, and chicks dig scars.
By the time we got back to Finger's house, the girls were sober enough to drive home and for some reason we had the obligatory solar lights that I am so prone to acquire during nights of drunken revelry.
Lisa got me back to My step Mom's house and I slept the sleep of the just and true until my Dad got me up to load things into his storage space.
Now I am back in Irvington, and it is Annabeth's First Birthday.
I'm sure we will sit around watching her play with plastic cups and be completely oblivious to the fact that today is her most important day of the year.
But we will all be together, and that's all that matters.
In other news, I was told that Bill and Jen will be getting married next year, to which I exclaimed 'Whoo hoo' upon hearing.
Bill also asked on behalf of them both to officiate their wedding. I am very honored to be asked, and am looking forward to their big day in October 2010.
The days keep flying by for me here,and I am constantly asking myself what happens next.
Till what happens next,
Stay Awesome & Happy Birthday, AnniePants.
Andy
Friday, July 17, 2009
Update # 7
One of my favourite pieces of music is Mozart's Clarinet Quintet. (Coming in a close second to the song called 'I spell some words like I am from the UK. Deal with it')
Most widely known as what Major Charles Emerson Winchester III taught his Korean POW's to play on the last episode of MASH.
I used to watch MASH with my Mom almost every day. It's a good memory. I like the show a lot. Not many people fess up to that.
But seeing as how I am the most emotional-sentimental person in my little world, I am not ashamed.
I was listening to it play in my head this morning as I woke up from a very restless sleep. I don't know whay it was in there. But in there it was. No matter how hard I tried to get it out with a few verses of Rick Springfield's 'Jessie's Girl'
The Springfield always gets songs out of your head. He's like the pickled ginger you use to cleans your pallet between bites of sushi. If your mind were your pallet, and you tended to speak in metaphor. Of course, I don't do that. I am simple and clear in anything I write. So there.
Today he didn't work.
And he always works. Every time. Like Colt 45.
So today is the day that Rick Springfield betrayed me.
July 17th.
Remember it well, as he will betray you too.
It isn't like I'm clawing at my head to get the Mozart out. I like it. But it also for some reason reminds me of how much I missed my Mom when I was a pre-teen living in Carmel Indiana.
I wasn't very happy then. And I keep wondering why exactly that is. I'm toiling with a lot of stuff right now that should take precedence over my general mood when i was ten years old till about 16. After sixteen, i had reached an agreement with myself that it was alright to live my life as I saw fit, even though I may not have been in the exact locale I thought was a perfect fit for me.
It may all boil down to a very protective instinct I have for my mom. I moved, and she was alone. she needed me to help out around the house. There are other things, like my Dad not showing me very much affection when I lived with him, but that is stuff for another posting. (we are fine now, my dad and I)
Last night, I felt like I needed to protect. It was a strange feeling, not because I don't feel that way all the time. i would punch a bear, I'd like to think, if it were trying to eat my friends. Last night, I felt a need to protect myself. There's the rub. That shit is out of place, and very rarely happens.
The tricky thing about writing anything is that it rarely happens when you want it to. The writing, I mean. I can hope to produce a mountain of things both interesting and poignant, but more often than not, i stare at the screen and wish I were better at sports or building Model trains or baking or doing anything but writing.
My schedule is very open, yet I always seem to have things to do.
This is why a lot of the things I write here sometimes take a week to post.
There are always adventures I need to have with various so and so's. Believe me, I'd rather be on an adventure than writing a mish mash of sad mopey bits.
This one, of course is no different.
My adventures yesterday prevented me from finishing up this blog, and now I don't really feel the same way as I did. I still feel like protecting myself from whatever inevitable fall i have built up in my head to be the end all climax to whatever whatever... I just have a vivid imagination that wreaks havoc on me. I make mountains out of mole hills and really need to take a breath every once in a while, count to ten and keep moving on.
But if drama doesn't show itself, then I have to manufacture it.
Just one of the many things we here at Andy Brynildson are attempting to improve upon so you can better enjoy me.
Yesterday i went with Lindsay and Snarky Andrew to various places that included an arcade/gamey fun place called 'great times' I found myself in a batting cage for the first time in my life. (I hit one that was very good. The rest resembled all those years in little league that I never participated in)
we won tickets for skee ball, and won dinosaurs and friendship rings and little parachute men.
When we tried to find an ice cream store to calm our racing adrenaline, we ended up finding a wine bar. The only logical 'next best thing'
One bottle of Cab, a plate of meat/cheese/crackers and a bottle of Port later: We decided that it had been the best day up this point.
I saw the house that Andrew owns and fell in love with it. I have a friend who is looking at rentals, you see. It's in the shady part of town, but aside from it being perfect, it is perfect.
Where do you go when your day is going so well?
Hogwarts, of course.
Harry Potter and the prisoner of deathly secret goblets and half blood sorcerers phoenix should only be seen in a drive-in.
As a matter of fact, all movies should be seen in a Drive-in.
And in that drive-in should be your be your best friends.
And more port wine.
All in all, things have been going pretty well. Always room for improvement on all fronts. But if I had to make a list of good things and bad things, there would be like three things on the bad side and a thousand on the good.
things are looking up. (He said, as the other shoe dropped)
Not going so well for the book I'm supposed to be working on. I am pathetically low on finished pages, and am still looking for my muse to inspire me to greatness.
I do have a hot date with a symphony on Tuesday, so maybe I'll get some inspiration there.
More soon.
Stay Awesome
Andy
Most widely known as what Major Charles Emerson Winchester III taught his Korean POW's to play on the last episode of MASH.
I used to watch MASH with my Mom almost every day. It's a good memory. I like the show a lot. Not many people fess up to that.
But seeing as how I am the most emotional-sentimental person in my little world, I am not ashamed.
I was listening to it play in my head this morning as I woke up from a very restless sleep. I don't know whay it was in there. But in there it was. No matter how hard I tried to get it out with a few verses of Rick Springfield's 'Jessie's Girl'
The Springfield always gets songs out of your head. He's like the pickled ginger you use to cleans your pallet between bites of sushi. If your mind were your pallet, and you tended to speak in metaphor. Of course, I don't do that. I am simple and clear in anything I write. So there.
Today he didn't work.
And he always works. Every time. Like Colt 45.
So today is the day that Rick Springfield betrayed me.
July 17th.
Remember it well, as he will betray you too.
It isn't like I'm clawing at my head to get the Mozart out. I like it. But it also for some reason reminds me of how much I missed my Mom when I was a pre-teen living in Carmel Indiana.
I wasn't very happy then. And I keep wondering why exactly that is. I'm toiling with a lot of stuff right now that should take precedence over my general mood when i was ten years old till about 16. After sixteen, i had reached an agreement with myself that it was alright to live my life as I saw fit, even though I may not have been in the exact locale I thought was a perfect fit for me.
It may all boil down to a very protective instinct I have for my mom. I moved, and she was alone. she needed me to help out around the house. There are other things, like my Dad not showing me very much affection when I lived with him, but that is stuff for another posting. (we are fine now, my dad and I)
Last night, I felt like I needed to protect. It was a strange feeling, not because I don't feel that way all the time. i would punch a bear, I'd like to think, if it were trying to eat my friends. Last night, I felt a need to protect myself. There's the rub. That shit is out of place, and very rarely happens.
The tricky thing about writing anything is that it rarely happens when you want it to. The writing, I mean. I can hope to produce a mountain of things both interesting and poignant, but more often than not, i stare at the screen and wish I were better at sports or building Model trains or baking or doing anything but writing.
My schedule is very open, yet I always seem to have things to do.
This is why a lot of the things I write here sometimes take a week to post.
There are always adventures I need to have with various so and so's. Believe me, I'd rather be on an adventure than writing a mish mash of sad mopey bits.
This one, of course is no different.
My adventures yesterday prevented me from finishing up this blog, and now I don't really feel the same way as I did. I still feel like protecting myself from whatever inevitable fall i have built up in my head to be the end all climax to whatever whatever... I just have a vivid imagination that wreaks havoc on me. I make mountains out of mole hills and really need to take a breath every once in a while, count to ten and keep moving on.
But if drama doesn't show itself, then I have to manufacture it.
Just one of the many things we here at Andy Brynildson are attempting to improve upon so you can better enjoy me.
Yesterday i went with Lindsay and Snarky Andrew to various places that included an arcade/gamey fun place called 'great times' I found myself in a batting cage for the first time in my life. (I hit one that was very good. The rest resembled all those years in little league that I never participated in)
we won tickets for skee ball, and won dinosaurs and friendship rings and little parachute men.
When we tried to find an ice cream store to calm our racing adrenaline, we ended up finding a wine bar. The only logical 'next best thing'
One bottle of Cab, a plate of meat/cheese/crackers and a bottle of Port later: We decided that it had been the best day up this point.
I saw the house that Andrew owns and fell in love with it. I have a friend who is looking at rentals, you see. It's in the shady part of town, but aside from it being perfect, it is perfect.
Where do you go when your day is going so well?
Hogwarts, of course.
Harry Potter and the prisoner of deathly secret goblets and half blood sorcerers phoenix should only be seen in a drive-in.
As a matter of fact, all movies should be seen in a Drive-in.
And in that drive-in should be your be your best friends.
And more port wine.
All in all, things have been going pretty well. Always room for improvement on all fronts. But if I had to make a list of good things and bad things, there would be like three things on the bad side and a thousand on the good.
things are looking up. (He said, as the other shoe dropped)
Not going so well for the book I'm supposed to be working on. I am pathetically low on finished pages, and am still looking for my muse to inspire me to greatness.
I do have a hot date with a symphony on Tuesday, so maybe I'll get some inspiration there.
More soon.
Stay Awesome
Andy
Tuesday, July 14, 2009
I'll take recap for 37 please, Alex.
And so it was. I became 31 years old last Friday night. Cells have died and been recreated several time since birth, and here we go with a who' who and what's what of the celebration of an anniversary of the making of a person who answers to the name 'Andy' But I prefer Danger king... And I am considering being okay with Tater Tot. But that last one is still in the R & D Department.
Dateline: Friday July 10 2009.
Location: The Irvington Neighborhood of Indianapolis Indiana. A place that I am liking very much, as I am surrounded by the best of the best.
Don't worry, internet travelers and Twin Cities residents, you still are ok in my book. For now. Dun Dun Dun.
I tried waking as early as my old and frail body would allow.
My dreams were a mixture of worrying about disastrous car crashes and unknown whereabouts of loved ones. Not a great night of dreaming, but it was on my mind as I fell asleep. It turns out, I CAN save people's lives in my REM cycles, and consider myself a hero in dreamland. And I wear a cape. But it is a tasteful number that compliments my legs, which I am told look pretty good. And that is from a trusted source.
There were a few text messages, and a few phone calls before i sauntered out to appreciate my kingdom.
Hellos and good wishes came my way, and the dreams of the previous night were quickly dissolving into vague memory.
Amanda had to work in the morning, so I was left with Lindsay and Lisa. Anniepants too, so I wasn't alone to contemplate my destiny just yet. There were things that had to be done. Errands for me usually only include one stop to the Speedway (SuperAmerica) to buy various sundries like hot dogs and Powerade in the refreshing red and orange flavors.
But Lindsay agreed to go on a quest with me to a couple of thrift stores so I could find a black suit jacket that I could wear later that night when masses would gather in my honor and sing covers of popular songs while drinking heavily.
Since I am a big guy, most jackets at thrift stores are much too small.
As was the case with both of the ones we went to.
I wish overweight guys would donate more clothing.
That, or I wish i wouldn't rely on gas stations for more of the food I consume daily.
Out of curiosity, we stopped by a big store simply called 'Flea Market'
It was amazing. I found things there that I didn't know I needed yet, and still even more stuff after that.
As if drawn by a higher power, we found ourselves at the 'Peddlers Mall' which was a brightly lit, cleaner version of The Flea Market. (The Flea Market smelled of cooking chili made with meat slaughtered in the back courtyard of a nearby apartment complex. Still, it is never good to go to a place called 'Flea Market' on an empty stomach, as your personal values go out the window. Still, we resisted)
Lindsay picked up a very attractive piece that takes my breath away every time I see it. To call it simply a piece of wood with a picture of two Unicorns would make the gods angry.
There are no words for its glory. The craftsmanship. The patina that seems to glow with the fantastic power of a thousand dying suns. The amazmagorical beasts themselves with the powerful horns and strong bodies waiting to enchant you and heft you upon their back to take you to the castle where you will cast a spell of magical power on a damsel who needs a good rogering...A Magical Rogering...
It is so beautiful. It is the only thing that matters in these darkest of times. It is a fucking piece of wood that someone decopaged a unicorn picture onto and then left it to rot in a dungeon until it chose the correct owner. And that owner was Lindsay. She may think she purchased it, but it purchased her. And it looks quite fancy above the fireplace next to my batman action figure and battle axe.
I thought that the prize for best find couldn't be attained, but in the end, I won.
I picked up the head of Darth Vader that you wear over your own head. And it makes you sound like him. Or you can press a button on the candy dispenser thing he wears on his chest to make James Earl Jones tell you that you cannot resist the power of the darkside. Or in this case, the Peddlers Mall.
Then we went to Meijer and she was offered one of the motorized carts by the nice pre-teen girl who saw Lindsay's broken ankle.
Lindsay promptly refused, which I will never ever forgive her for if I live to be a thousand years old and we all have hover jet packs.
I wanted to ride the cart. It was my birthday, and she betrayed me.
I have an enemy, and while her taste in wall decor is impeccable, she broke the number one rule:
If a store employee offer you the motorized cart thing, you take it. When you crash into the Paper towel display, it is her ass, not yours.
It was like getting the keys to the Bentley and saying that you would rather take the razor scooter to get to prom.
On my list, Shiv. On my list...
However, I did forget to tell that i found a very impressive sculpture with an owl on top for Amanda. She likes owls, and ceramic things from the 70's. I know I won her heart with that. Though she may smash it to bits when I turn my back. It's the thought that counts, right?
Then what? well, I wrote to my Mom, posted a blog and got ready for the night's festivities.
We went to Nippers Bar and Grill in Carmel to sing Karaoke.
I was visited by the Birthday Pig, which is a tradition in Lisa's family that I had always wanted to be a part of. The Birthday pig sent me Thirty One cupcakes (one for each year I have been around)that kicked ass and helped to soak up the booze that we were all drinking with reckless abandon.
Songs were sung, and lots of video taken.
I was with wonderful people, and I didn't forget for a moment how lucky I am to have such wonderful friends.
I asked Fingers to drop his talent for singing down a few notches so as to not appear better than me. Sadly, his worst performance was ten times better than my worst. I still managed to have a great time.
Some of the best pictures from the night are posted up on facebook, and I am in charge of adding the second batch.
More to come, i am sure.
Krysta Kendall, an old friend from high school dropped by to say hi, even though it was her 10 year wedding anniversary.
I was touched, and it was good to meet the man she has chosen to spend her life with.
Nice guy too. Looks like my friend Dave Mitch From Minneapolis. It kind of freaked me out a little.
There was an Andrea Grube there, and a Matthew Russ, and a Brooke Nelson, and The Snarky Andrew, And a Brett Stevens, and a Jenny Macias and a Jeremy Murray and a Stephanie Lenger and a Dark Snack, whose real name is Wendy, but I know her through LiveJournal. She apparently lives in irvington, and might become chummy with the girls.
My dorch gang was all there, save for Jenny & Hammam. They couldn't make it due to having a teeny tiny baby boy named Adam. I missed them a lot and wished they were able to watch me massacre Bon Jovi.
Having the majority of my people there was the best gift. It's hard to wrangle them all together. kind of like herding cats. Amanda, Lindsay, Lisa, James, Jenny, Hammam Fingers, Jen: I love you all to the Moon and back.
The night was perfect, and it was one for the memory books.
I was hugged by many and loved by all. And the fact that it was my birthday didn't matter. I know they would do that on any regular day.
Did I mention that everyone looked wicked hot? Well, the women did, anyway. It was hard to make eye contact, and i was dizzy from being so proud of the fact that I surround myself with attractive ladies just like Charlie and his angels.
At 11:11pm, I made sure I was outside looking up at the sky. it's become a tradition for me to be alone for a few moments so I can thank whoever is responsible for my good fortune and anything else that seems to be going well.
Then, as if by cue, my Amanda came outside to make sure she was the first person I kissed as a 31 year old. Wishes do come true sometimes.
Being older isn't so bad. I went to cracker Barrel the next day to inaugurate me into the ranks of the elderly, and the fact that I drank coffee during dinner was a sign of respect for the good Scandinavians who came before me... And I may have wanted to buy a quilt... Whatever. I have more years ahead than behind still.
Thank you to all who sent me good wishes, and those who showed up to sing with me.
Here is to the next year, I wish that every night would end with Amanda in a Vader helmet dancing the Vogue.
Stay Awesome.
Andy
Dateline: Friday July 10 2009.
Location: The Irvington Neighborhood of Indianapolis Indiana. A place that I am liking very much, as I am surrounded by the best of the best.
Don't worry, internet travelers and Twin Cities residents, you still are ok in my book. For now. Dun Dun Dun.
I tried waking as early as my old and frail body would allow.
My dreams were a mixture of worrying about disastrous car crashes and unknown whereabouts of loved ones. Not a great night of dreaming, but it was on my mind as I fell asleep. It turns out, I CAN save people's lives in my REM cycles, and consider myself a hero in dreamland. And I wear a cape. But it is a tasteful number that compliments my legs, which I am told look pretty good. And that is from a trusted source.
There were a few text messages, and a few phone calls before i sauntered out to appreciate my kingdom.
Hellos and good wishes came my way, and the dreams of the previous night were quickly dissolving into vague memory.
Amanda had to work in the morning, so I was left with Lindsay and Lisa. Anniepants too, so I wasn't alone to contemplate my destiny just yet. There were things that had to be done. Errands for me usually only include one stop to the Speedway (SuperAmerica) to buy various sundries like hot dogs and Powerade in the refreshing red and orange flavors.
But Lindsay agreed to go on a quest with me to a couple of thrift stores so I could find a black suit jacket that I could wear later that night when masses would gather in my honor and sing covers of popular songs while drinking heavily.
Since I am a big guy, most jackets at thrift stores are much too small.
As was the case with both of the ones we went to.
I wish overweight guys would donate more clothing.
That, or I wish i wouldn't rely on gas stations for more of the food I consume daily.
Out of curiosity, we stopped by a big store simply called 'Flea Market'
It was amazing. I found things there that I didn't know I needed yet, and still even more stuff after that.
As if drawn by a higher power, we found ourselves at the 'Peddlers Mall' which was a brightly lit, cleaner version of The Flea Market. (The Flea Market smelled of cooking chili made with meat slaughtered in the back courtyard of a nearby apartment complex. Still, it is never good to go to a place called 'Flea Market' on an empty stomach, as your personal values go out the window. Still, we resisted)
Lindsay picked up a very attractive piece that takes my breath away every time I see it. To call it simply a piece of wood with a picture of two Unicorns would make the gods angry.
There are no words for its glory. The craftsmanship. The patina that seems to glow with the fantastic power of a thousand dying suns. The amazmagorical beasts themselves with the powerful horns and strong bodies waiting to enchant you and heft you upon their back to take you to the castle where you will cast a spell of magical power on a damsel who needs a good rogering...A Magical Rogering...
It is so beautiful. It is the only thing that matters in these darkest of times. It is a fucking piece of wood that someone decopaged a unicorn picture onto and then left it to rot in a dungeon until it chose the correct owner. And that owner was Lindsay. She may think she purchased it, but it purchased her. And it looks quite fancy above the fireplace next to my batman action figure and battle axe.
I thought that the prize for best find couldn't be attained, but in the end, I won.
I picked up the head of Darth Vader that you wear over your own head. And it makes you sound like him. Or you can press a button on the candy dispenser thing he wears on his chest to make James Earl Jones tell you that you cannot resist the power of the darkside. Or in this case, the Peddlers Mall.
Then we went to Meijer and she was offered one of the motorized carts by the nice pre-teen girl who saw Lindsay's broken ankle.
Lindsay promptly refused, which I will never ever forgive her for if I live to be a thousand years old and we all have hover jet packs.
I wanted to ride the cart. It was my birthday, and she betrayed me.
I have an enemy, and while her taste in wall decor is impeccable, she broke the number one rule:
If a store employee offer you the motorized cart thing, you take it. When you crash into the Paper towel display, it is her ass, not yours.
It was like getting the keys to the Bentley and saying that you would rather take the razor scooter to get to prom.
On my list, Shiv. On my list...
However, I did forget to tell that i found a very impressive sculpture with an owl on top for Amanda. She likes owls, and ceramic things from the 70's. I know I won her heart with that. Though she may smash it to bits when I turn my back. It's the thought that counts, right?
Then what? well, I wrote to my Mom, posted a blog and got ready for the night's festivities.
We went to Nippers Bar and Grill in Carmel to sing Karaoke.
I was visited by the Birthday Pig, which is a tradition in Lisa's family that I had always wanted to be a part of. The Birthday pig sent me Thirty One cupcakes (one for each year I have been around)that kicked ass and helped to soak up the booze that we were all drinking with reckless abandon.
Songs were sung, and lots of video taken.
I was with wonderful people, and I didn't forget for a moment how lucky I am to have such wonderful friends.
I asked Fingers to drop his talent for singing down a few notches so as to not appear better than me. Sadly, his worst performance was ten times better than my worst. I still managed to have a great time.
Some of the best pictures from the night are posted up on facebook, and I am in charge of adding the second batch.
More to come, i am sure.
Krysta Kendall, an old friend from high school dropped by to say hi, even though it was her 10 year wedding anniversary.
I was touched, and it was good to meet the man she has chosen to spend her life with.
Nice guy too. Looks like my friend Dave Mitch From Minneapolis. It kind of freaked me out a little.
There was an Andrea Grube there, and a Matthew Russ, and a Brooke Nelson, and The Snarky Andrew, And a Brett Stevens, and a Jenny Macias and a Jeremy Murray and a Stephanie Lenger and a Dark Snack, whose real name is Wendy, but I know her through LiveJournal. She apparently lives in irvington, and might become chummy with the girls.
My dorch gang was all there, save for Jenny & Hammam. They couldn't make it due to having a teeny tiny baby boy named Adam. I missed them a lot and wished they were able to watch me massacre Bon Jovi.
Having the majority of my people there was the best gift. It's hard to wrangle them all together. kind of like herding cats. Amanda, Lindsay, Lisa, James, Jenny, Hammam Fingers, Jen: I love you all to the Moon and back.
The night was perfect, and it was one for the memory books.
I was hugged by many and loved by all. And the fact that it was my birthday didn't matter. I know they would do that on any regular day.
Did I mention that everyone looked wicked hot? Well, the women did, anyway. It was hard to make eye contact, and i was dizzy from being so proud of the fact that I surround myself with attractive ladies just like Charlie and his angels.
At 11:11pm, I made sure I was outside looking up at the sky. it's become a tradition for me to be alone for a few moments so I can thank whoever is responsible for my good fortune and anything else that seems to be going well.
Then, as if by cue, my Amanda came outside to make sure she was the first person I kissed as a 31 year old. Wishes do come true sometimes.
Being older isn't so bad. I went to cracker Barrel the next day to inaugurate me into the ranks of the elderly, and the fact that I drank coffee during dinner was a sign of respect for the good Scandinavians who came before me... And I may have wanted to buy a quilt... Whatever. I have more years ahead than behind still.
Thank you to all who sent me good wishes, and those who showed up to sing with me.
Here is to the next year, I wish that every night would end with Amanda in a Vader helmet dancing the Vogue.
Stay Awesome.
Andy
Friday, July 10, 2009
A birthday happens today.
My Mother doesn't have interweb capabilities beyond a little machine in her office.
This machine was a gift from my Brother and Sister in Law a few years ago.
It looks like a regular computer printer, but it is hooked up to the phone line and receives emails that we send her.
All of the kids know the code to make messages get to her.
I have it saved in my email box, yet I rarely send her messages. I have to get better about it, because I know she likes it when the machine prints out a message during one of the three times a day it is scheduled to print.
Today is my birthday.
I know that sometimes my siblings read my blog, and maybe my Dad does too. I am not too sure.
if he does, I feel I ought to have thanked him today when I spoke with him. (instead of making fun of him for being on facebook now)
I love my Dad, but we have some difficulty expressing ourselves when it comes to how we feel about each other.
At any rate, I wanted to thank him too. Maybe I'll pat him on the back when i see him in a few days.
Meanwhile, this is something I just sent to my Mom. Her machine will print it out at 5pm, Minneapolis Time.
And at 11:11pm, I'll be thinking about a lot of stuff, including her.
Dear Mom,
Today I am celebrating 31 years of being your Son. I can say that it is a celebration of being alive and well and healthy, but it pretty much boils down to you.
You had choices, and you chose me. That isn't a dark and controversial topic starter, it's just that I am sure you had so many chances to sell me to wandering Gypsies or to some Eastern block communist labor camp. I would have fetched a good price, too...
But you didn't. you kept me around to see what I was capable of, and while i am still trying to figure out what that all entails, i know I'm rather good at being your kid.
I wanted to tell you that while I have had a tumultuous year, and years prior to this, I love being around.
I am surrounded by friends who really like me, and a family who puts up with me more than they should have to. I have known love, and am capable of loving, which I think reflects greatly on your parenting skill.
If you had a comment box for just Amy, Marit, Matt and myself, you would get ten out of tens every time.
There isn't really any way of thanking you that would seem appropriate or enough.
Maybe by living my life, and chasing dreams and trying to achieve goals is the best way of thanks.
I am a good enough person where I don't have many enemies, and I can hold on to friendships for years and years. I think it is a result of the way you raised me.
I will continue to try and make you proud of me by working hard to use the talents you provided. I love writing and making people laugh, you know this, but i also want to write things and make you laugh too.
And i promise to keep trying my best to not squander what I feel i am good at in honor of you.
Thank you for being my Mom, and thank you for having me on July 10th 1978 at 11:11pm In Blodgett Hospital in Grand Rapids Michigan.
Thank you for being there always when I needed you, and all the times when I thought I didn't, but in the back of my mind knew you were there to help me along the way.
I love you to the moon.
Happy Our Anniversary, Mom.
All my love,
Andrew David
ps- I got a Darth Vader Helmet from Star Wars that changed your voice when you wear it. I'll take pictures of it and send them to you. I know you will think it's neat.
I will be spending time with some friends tonight, and that is the best birthday gift there is.
Aside from a Darth Vader Mask...
Stay Awesome, and thank you for reading me.
Andy
This machine was a gift from my Brother and Sister in Law a few years ago.
It looks like a regular computer printer, but it is hooked up to the phone line and receives emails that we send her.
All of the kids know the code to make messages get to her.
I have it saved in my email box, yet I rarely send her messages. I have to get better about it, because I know she likes it when the machine prints out a message during one of the three times a day it is scheduled to print.
Today is my birthday.
I know that sometimes my siblings read my blog, and maybe my Dad does too. I am not too sure.
if he does, I feel I ought to have thanked him today when I spoke with him. (instead of making fun of him for being on facebook now)
I love my Dad, but we have some difficulty expressing ourselves when it comes to how we feel about each other.
At any rate, I wanted to thank him too. Maybe I'll pat him on the back when i see him in a few days.
Meanwhile, this is something I just sent to my Mom. Her machine will print it out at 5pm, Minneapolis Time.
And at 11:11pm, I'll be thinking about a lot of stuff, including her.
Dear Mom,
Today I am celebrating 31 years of being your Son. I can say that it is a celebration of being alive and well and healthy, but it pretty much boils down to you.
You had choices, and you chose me. That isn't a dark and controversial topic starter, it's just that I am sure you had so many chances to sell me to wandering Gypsies or to some Eastern block communist labor camp. I would have fetched a good price, too...
But you didn't. you kept me around to see what I was capable of, and while i am still trying to figure out what that all entails, i know I'm rather good at being your kid.
I wanted to tell you that while I have had a tumultuous year, and years prior to this, I love being around.
I am surrounded by friends who really like me, and a family who puts up with me more than they should have to. I have known love, and am capable of loving, which I think reflects greatly on your parenting skill.
If you had a comment box for just Amy, Marit, Matt and myself, you would get ten out of tens every time.
There isn't really any way of thanking you that would seem appropriate or enough.
Maybe by living my life, and chasing dreams and trying to achieve goals is the best way of thanks.
I am a good enough person where I don't have many enemies, and I can hold on to friendships for years and years. I think it is a result of the way you raised me.
I will continue to try and make you proud of me by working hard to use the talents you provided. I love writing and making people laugh, you know this, but i also want to write things and make you laugh too.
And i promise to keep trying my best to not squander what I feel i am good at in honor of you.
Thank you for being my Mom, and thank you for having me on July 10th 1978 at 11:11pm In Blodgett Hospital in Grand Rapids Michigan.
Thank you for being there always when I needed you, and all the times when I thought I didn't, but in the back of my mind knew you were there to help me along the way.
I love you to the moon.
Happy Our Anniversary, Mom.
All my love,
Andrew David
ps- I got a Darth Vader Helmet from Star Wars that changed your voice when you wear it. I'll take pictures of it and send them to you. I know you will think it's neat.
I will be spending time with some friends tonight, and that is the best birthday gift there is.
Aside from a Darth Vader Mask...
Stay Awesome, and thank you for reading me.
Andy
Wednesday, July 8, 2009
A perfect Day amidst other kinds of days
What is a perfect day?
Is it when you find yourself doing everything that you want to do, with the people who make you who you are?
And then the question is, Who are you?
Do you know yourself well enough to know what it is you want. From Life. From Love. From Family. From Friends. From the world around you. From yourself.
There are many perfect days out there to be had. Shit can really hit the fan at noon, and still be considered perfect because you spent the evening watching a tv show next to someone you care for. You talk about your day, and you make each other laugh. You go to bed knowing that whatever happens at noon the next day isn't going to trump the night before.
You feed off of it. You feel it inside when your day is perfect. Or your moment.
I have had so many perfect moments in my life, that if I practice what I preach, my life would be considered so. And still I want more. Everyone does i hope, otherwise I am a sadist who is doomed to fight reality for the rest of my life.
And life is going on all around me. It doesnt stop for me. It isnt pausing so I can catch my breath.
I'm working on building trust with someone i care deeply for.
And maybe it's working, maybe it isn't. I can lie to myself and saying things are swell, but there is always an underlying current of something that might surface to fuck it all up.
I'm not a good gambler.
I count my money while sitting at tables, and I don't have a poker face to save a life. But I do have moments. I will always have my moments.
These perfect pauses in time where the skies are just the way I like them. It's dusk during these times. The clouds are reflecting the sun so lazily that they don't have the energy to be perfectly white. They swim with the deepest dark reds and purples and orange to the lightest suggestion of a soft pink that lets you know the night is coming, and when that happens, that is when you are alive. You are able to make all the bad or good choices you want to, because tomorrow will happen soon enough. And when that tomorrow hits, you are ready for anything. the cycle begins all over. And if you are lucky, the day will bring something even more interesting to your door.
I'm not perfect, but some of my moments are.
She isn't perfect, but some of the things she challenges me to think about are. They help me grow up. And maybe that is what I need.
I'm not happy to the point of jumping on mountains and screaming challenges to God, but I am happy enough to know that it's a big world, and I want to see every inch of it. I want to dig it up, brush away the dirt and see what picture the puzzle makes.
I know i don't make any sense. I know of like three people who read this, and they all know me as batshit crazy and full of baggage. And not without reason.
This blog is host to a multitude of high's and low's. I may seem Bi-Polar, but i assure you, I am only a Cancerian. Take me or leave me, I talk about it all, as long as it has something to do with feeling something. And today made me feel something that i had forgotten about. That possibility of those fucking moment I keep yammering on and on about.
I had a lot of them today.
I had the shit ones today.
But once again, the good outweighed the bad.
And tomorrow, maybe it will be the other way around, but the next day is my birthday, and nothing bad can happen on that day.
If it's a pattern, at least it's stable. Everything was a bit wonky there for a while. I'll take any semblance of routine I can get. I'm too random as it is.
Edit- It is now the next day, and with it, nothing to report.
I suppose I wish my evening plans were a little different, and didn't consist of wishing and hoping and sitting and staring out into nothing. On the other hand, i could get some much needed writing done.
I'm distracted today by thoughts that will probably end up destroying me, but I suppose I have been wanting to destroy something beautiful. And I am so very very cute...
Meanwhile, I am set to do battle with myself. Tonight, and the next and the one after that and so on until I reach some happy medium.
But tomorrow is my Birthday, and whats the worst that could happen on a birthday?
Till then, I'm sure I made some sort of point earlier. If I didn't, just take away that not everything is bad if you focus on good parts. In relationships, in friendships or in wherever I fit into a puzzle picture.
You HAVE to focus on the good parts.
Otherwise all the songs you hear and every show or movie you watch will have hidden meaning and be some metaphor for why you feel miserable. (sometimes. But only when a phone rings. Mostly.)
Stay Awesome.
Andy
Is it when you find yourself doing everything that you want to do, with the people who make you who you are?
And then the question is, Who are you?
Do you know yourself well enough to know what it is you want. From Life. From Love. From Family. From Friends. From the world around you. From yourself.
There are many perfect days out there to be had. Shit can really hit the fan at noon, and still be considered perfect because you spent the evening watching a tv show next to someone you care for. You talk about your day, and you make each other laugh. You go to bed knowing that whatever happens at noon the next day isn't going to trump the night before.
You feed off of it. You feel it inside when your day is perfect. Or your moment.
I have had so many perfect moments in my life, that if I practice what I preach, my life would be considered so. And still I want more. Everyone does i hope, otherwise I am a sadist who is doomed to fight reality for the rest of my life.
And life is going on all around me. It doesnt stop for me. It isnt pausing so I can catch my breath.
I'm working on building trust with someone i care deeply for.
And maybe it's working, maybe it isn't. I can lie to myself and saying things are swell, but there is always an underlying current of something that might surface to fuck it all up.
I'm not a good gambler.
I count my money while sitting at tables, and I don't have a poker face to save a life. But I do have moments. I will always have my moments.
These perfect pauses in time where the skies are just the way I like them. It's dusk during these times. The clouds are reflecting the sun so lazily that they don't have the energy to be perfectly white. They swim with the deepest dark reds and purples and orange to the lightest suggestion of a soft pink that lets you know the night is coming, and when that happens, that is when you are alive. You are able to make all the bad or good choices you want to, because tomorrow will happen soon enough. And when that tomorrow hits, you are ready for anything. the cycle begins all over. And if you are lucky, the day will bring something even more interesting to your door.
I'm not perfect, but some of my moments are.
She isn't perfect, but some of the things she challenges me to think about are. They help me grow up. And maybe that is what I need.
I'm not happy to the point of jumping on mountains and screaming challenges to God, but I am happy enough to know that it's a big world, and I want to see every inch of it. I want to dig it up, brush away the dirt and see what picture the puzzle makes.
I know i don't make any sense. I know of like three people who read this, and they all know me as batshit crazy and full of baggage. And not without reason.
This blog is host to a multitude of high's and low's. I may seem Bi-Polar, but i assure you, I am only a Cancerian. Take me or leave me, I talk about it all, as long as it has something to do with feeling something. And today made me feel something that i had forgotten about. That possibility of those fucking moment I keep yammering on and on about.
I had a lot of them today.
I had the shit ones today.
But once again, the good outweighed the bad.
And tomorrow, maybe it will be the other way around, but the next day is my birthday, and nothing bad can happen on that day.
If it's a pattern, at least it's stable. Everything was a bit wonky there for a while. I'll take any semblance of routine I can get. I'm too random as it is.
Edit- It is now the next day, and with it, nothing to report.
I suppose I wish my evening plans were a little different, and didn't consist of wishing and hoping and sitting and staring out into nothing. On the other hand, i could get some much needed writing done.
I'm distracted today by thoughts that will probably end up destroying me, but I suppose I have been wanting to destroy something beautiful. And I am so very very cute...
Meanwhile, I am set to do battle with myself. Tonight, and the next and the one after that and so on until I reach some happy medium.
But tomorrow is my Birthday, and whats the worst that could happen on a birthday?
Till then, I'm sure I made some sort of point earlier. If I didn't, just take away that not everything is bad if you focus on good parts. In relationships, in friendships or in wherever I fit into a puzzle picture.
You HAVE to focus on the good parts.
Otherwise all the songs you hear and every show or movie you watch will have hidden meaning and be some metaphor for why you feel miserable. (sometimes. But only when a phone rings. Mostly.)
Stay Awesome.
Andy
Tuesday, July 7, 2009
This Friday
I have a birthday coming up on Friday, and I want it to be a starting point for some good stuff to happen.
I will be surrounded by my friends, and that is all I need.
And I will be singing karaoke. There's that.
It will be a celebration of life and the future.
I am going to make a concerted effort to not be sad anymore about things I cannot control.
That's a good start.
A
I will be surrounded by my friends, and that is all I need.
And I will be singing karaoke. There's that.
It will be a celebration of life and the future.
I am going to make a concerted effort to not be sad anymore about things I cannot control.
That's a good start.
A
To the heavens, I scream.
I am not a good person, but I am not a horrible person either. Not more than the average person. I think...
Maybe I've been possessed by an 'I ruin things because it's fun' demon. Or it could be that I just make poor, confusing choices.
I am a moron like everyone else.
Human.
I make my mistakes, and I sometimes fess up to them, and other times, I am caught in situations that are beyond horrible.
Cowardly acts happen.
And sometimes they are committed by me.
But then there's the good stuff that I do or say or mean to say or think or write. Some wash away the bad, and sometimes the bad is there for always.
I have not been excellent to some people.
I bring on drama like I know what to do when it gets really intense.
I don't know. I have movie moments stuck in my head where the bad guy loses and the good guy wins.
My life does not resemble a John Cusack movie plot. I stumble over words that have run over and over in my head because they sound perfect when I plan to say them, but they fall flat the moment they escape my mouth. My defense mech of humor sometimes makes it seem like i am insincere. I don't mean to be. It comes naturally, and i don't like conflict. I need to be sure that i can win a fight if i get in it.
Then I get in it, and I try to piece together some scene from a romantic comedy, knowing that in the end, the girl will be mine and we will ride off into the sunset together on a horse with no name.
And there will be fireworks going off as the sun fades into deep red and purple. The stars will line up showing both of our most treasured constellations.
What really ends up happening is staring into space, too numb to make a move.
To storm out of a room, hoping like hell that the other person will have more courage than you and try to stop you from leaving.
Sometimes they do.
And sometimes those eyes roll over white, and then the high pitched screaming starts.
And the humor mech starts humming and you try not to let anyone see your eyes start to well up, or notice that bottom lip trembling.
I think that nights should end with something positive from now on.
Maybe not mine tonight or tomorrow, but everyone else. All of you out there in the world who are sleeping. And to those still up, getting ready for work, or sitting there, getting sick of staring at a wall feeling a bit numb in the chest. to all of you, I want you to say those 'I love you's' Tell someone to have sweet dreams. High five a friend. Say thank you. Be brave enough or strong enough to forgive someone you care about. Always Hug them goodnight.
Sleep needs to happen right after you think someone really has your back. You feel like nothing can hurt you as long as you feel loved, or feel like there is a possibility of love. then you can start dreaming.
I'm the best and worst of both schools. Old and New. I think you should walk on the side where if a car splashes water on the walkway, you will get the majority of the wet, and her dress might be spared.
I think you should open doors for everyone, not just women.
Kids should know how fun watching Goonies can be, and that Ghostbusters isn't as scary as it is funny as hell.
You can get into a barfight, but it has to be to defend someone who cannot defend themselves.
But i also get sad, and the world has to be sad with me. I will be Captain Bringdown. I am moody as hell, and fuck wearing my heart on a sleeve. I like to hold mine up in the air to show everyone how sensitive I am. If I could, I would have a neon sign installed with an arrow pointing to the parts of my heart where if you touch it, Peter Gabriel's 'In Your Eyes' or Dire Straits 'Romeo & Juliet' would start playing as if by magic.
But hey, I'm only human, right? And where is the 'New School' part?
I have no idea. Don't put metal in the microwave and always dance the charleston at parties to get it really cookin'. Who cares. I talk too much.
I want you to know that I hurt Amanda. I made her feel foolish, and I lied to her, and I painted her like a bad person. The word 'Torment' isn't appropriate enough. Well, she is not a bad person. Not at all. She is a good, kind person who doesn't deserve any part of the shit I have put her through.
I'm the one who swung back into town and fucked up the tilt of the Earth for her.
I'm the one who didn't tell her I still loved her until it was too late, then was expected to just say 'Sure. Let's start it all over, no problem'
Who in the hell would want anything to do with someone who would do that?! You don't hurt people you love. You just don't. It's a really important rule and i broke it. Don't lie to someone you want to spend your days with. Please take note of that and use it when you are feeling particularly bad at any relationship you are in.
I am ridiculous. And I am the fool all the way because I kept seeing a sunset and a kicky new cover of '500 miles' playing on a jukebox as the credits rolled.
All of this is on ME.
My fault. My party, and I'll cry if I want to.
And I wanted to say that I am sorry. that is what I wanted to say. So now I've said it and way too much more.
Sleep Sweet.
Maybe I've been possessed by an 'I ruin things because it's fun' demon. Or it could be that I just make poor, confusing choices.
I am a moron like everyone else.
Human.
I make my mistakes, and I sometimes fess up to them, and other times, I am caught in situations that are beyond horrible.
Cowardly acts happen.
And sometimes they are committed by me.
But then there's the good stuff that I do or say or mean to say or think or write. Some wash away the bad, and sometimes the bad is there for always.
I have not been excellent to some people.
I bring on drama like I know what to do when it gets really intense.
I don't know. I have movie moments stuck in my head where the bad guy loses and the good guy wins.
My life does not resemble a John Cusack movie plot. I stumble over words that have run over and over in my head because they sound perfect when I plan to say them, but they fall flat the moment they escape my mouth. My defense mech of humor sometimes makes it seem like i am insincere. I don't mean to be. It comes naturally, and i don't like conflict. I need to be sure that i can win a fight if i get in it.
Then I get in it, and I try to piece together some scene from a romantic comedy, knowing that in the end, the girl will be mine and we will ride off into the sunset together on a horse with no name.
And there will be fireworks going off as the sun fades into deep red and purple. The stars will line up showing both of our most treasured constellations.
What really ends up happening is staring into space, too numb to make a move.
To storm out of a room, hoping like hell that the other person will have more courage than you and try to stop you from leaving.
Sometimes they do.
And sometimes those eyes roll over white, and then the high pitched screaming starts.
And the humor mech starts humming and you try not to let anyone see your eyes start to well up, or notice that bottom lip trembling.
I think that nights should end with something positive from now on.
Maybe not mine tonight or tomorrow, but everyone else. All of you out there in the world who are sleeping. And to those still up, getting ready for work, or sitting there, getting sick of staring at a wall feeling a bit numb in the chest. to all of you, I want you to say those 'I love you's' Tell someone to have sweet dreams. High five a friend. Say thank you. Be brave enough or strong enough to forgive someone you care about. Always Hug them goodnight.
Sleep needs to happen right after you think someone really has your back. You feel like nothing can hurt you as long as you feel loved, or feel like there is a possibility of love. then you can start dreaming.
I'm the best and worst of both schools. Old and New. I think you should walk on the side where if a car splashes water on the walkway, you will get the majority of the wet, and her dress might be spared.
I think you should open doors for everyone, not just women.
Kids should know how fun watching Goonies can be, and that Ghostbusters isn't as scary as it is funny as hell.
You can get into a barfight, but it has to be to defend someone who cannot defend themselves.
But i also get sad, and the world has to be sad with me. I will be Captain Bringdown. I am moody as hell, and fuck wearing my heart on a sleeve. I like to hold mine up in the air to show everyone how sensitive I am. If I could, I would have a neon sign installed with an arrow pointing to the parts of my heart where if you touch it, Peter Gabriel's 'In Your Eyes' or Dire Straits 'Romeo & Juliet' would start playing as if by magic.
But hey, I'm only human, right? And where is the 'New School' part?
I have no idea. Don't put metal in the microwave and always dance the charleston at parties to get it really cookin'. Who cares. I talk too much.
I want you to know that I hurt Amanda. I made her feel foolish, and I lied to her, and I painted her like a bad person. The word 'Torment' isn't appropriate enough. Well, she is not a bad person. Not at all. She is a good, kind person who doesn't deserve any part of the shit I have put her through.
I'm the one who swung back into town and fucked up the tilt of the Earth for her.
I'm the one who didn't tell her I still loved her until it was too late, then was expected to just say 'Sure. Let's start it all over, no problem'
Who in the hell would want anything to do with someone who would do that?! You don't hurt people you love. You just don't. It's a really important rule and i broke it. Don't lie to someone you want to spend your days with. Please take note of that and use it when you are feeling particularly bad at any relationship you are in.
I am ridiculous. And I am the fool all the way because I kept seeing a sunset and a kicky new cover of '500 miles' playing on a jukebox as the credits rolled.
All of this is on ME.
My fault. My party, and I'll cry if I want to.
And I wanted to say that I am sorry. that is what I wanted to say. So now I've said it and way too much more.
Sleep Sweet.
Saturday, July 4, 2009
A story. And why I am the way I am these days.
This could be short and sweet.
This could be kept inside my head and heart, never seeing the light of day.
But it won't be. I warn you, you won't like me after reading this, so why not just move on to something you like doing instead of reading a ramble of things that you won't be able to make heads or tails of.
I just re-read it and it reads like VCR instructions. The sentiment is there, but I am a bad writer. It seemed like a good idea at the time...
I can bottle things up like there is no tomorrow, but there isn't any point now.
Nothing I keep inside stays there for long. This blog is nothing but misery and whining about woah is me stuff anyway. I remember it used to be funny. It used to have wit and some semblance of being a good read if you didn't have anything else to do and was the only thing on the internet left. You should always do the dishes before you read this blog. The dishes, nine times out of ten would be more useful.
But what will it hurt if I stop being cryptic and tell you what is really going on with me?
I've lost hope tonight.
I never really written about Amanda. I don't know why that is. I used to think it was for her privacy, but then she would always ask me why i never wrote about her. I have things on paper about her, but I didn't think a public blog on a public internet was the place for our relationship. She was mine at one point, and I was a part of something really good. I would talk about her in person, and if people would ask and were willing to listen, I would speak at length.
She is an Anthropologist. A fancy term for someone much more intelligent than am or ever will be. A go getter, and perfectionist. A planner of things and a writer of lists about what to make lists about. She has quirks that make me swoon and want more and more. She was supportive and kind about everything I do. Her unique beauty is distracting, and looking at a picture of her meant that you looked at it all day. Physically in your hand staring, or in your head. I would want more and more of her, and when I am with her, I am infinite and everything is perfect. I wanted so much to spend my life with her, that I devised a plan to move to Indiana to be with her. And that is where it got tricky. She was in Indiana. She is still in Indiana. She is twenty feet from me as i write this blog, and I can never touch her again. This is why I am unhappy. This is why I am writing this. To tell you how much she meant to me. Or means to me. Currently. Present and future tense implied.
I ruined, like most of the relationships before this one, the thing that made me feel like anything was possible. I am, as many know and few forget, a coward. Let me explain. I saw moving to Indiana as a way of running away, just like I saw Minneapolis as a way of escape. Both cities were my personal circus. I needed to get to them as fast as possible because I thought that they would automatically fill the void that I needed filling. There is more to that story of why i wanted to get to Minneapolis, but it is so far in the past that even i forget some detail. But i know why i wanted Indianapolis this time. I wanted to start something real. No more meeting people at random and facebook befriending them or myspace buddy-ing them and flirting via messenger and meeting and subsequently hooking up and starting the cycle over again. Its a generalization, but it fits at this moment, as my fingers hit the keyboard with menacing speed and inaccuracy. Seriously. Spell Check is my best friend right now. I'm just a man who had reached his limit. i had grown up, and I literally saw the kids and the big dog and the matching luggage and the adventures to far off lands in order for her to dig things up and study them. I would write to make minimum wage and live the happiest life known to man next to the woman that made me feel like I had just as much to offer the world as she did, because she believed in me. And i her. At least, that was what growing up meant to me. Or means to me. i don't know. it isn't going to happen, so maybe it will change in twenty minutes or tomorrow afternoon or never. Maybe my thoughts on what a grown up is revolves around the mass stereotype of some idiot (myself in this instance) who never really grows up. My parents are grown up, and they don't go on adventures to the American southwest and dig up human remains from ancient civilizations and make rubbings of glyphs on rocky slopes that are older than the continents. But they had kids, and were at one point in love, so maybe they were a different kind of grown up? I honestly will never know. I just know what I want. or wanted. meh. end rant.
I'm going in and out of topic, apologies. As the date of my move to Indy approached, I was mentioning more and more of my nerves. Still looking forward to it, but also down with the understanding that I was making one HELL of a life change. Friends and family were of mixed thought. 'You should do it. It will be great for you'
'Fuck that. Don't go. We need you here. Why Indiana?'
I was going to Indy to start a band or something. No, it was a theatre. Some space of my own. It was a silly idea made of whispy dreams and a barrel full of hopes.
I re-thought it, and realized that it would be uphill. No matter what i did, it wouldn't be what I really wanted. And I knew, deep down, that I was moving for her. To be with her.
And it wasn't fair. it just wasn't fair at all. The pressure she would have felt to comfort me while i was a stranger in a strange land would have been too much.
We were long distance since August. We spoke every night and sometimes during the day. I could count on one hand the times I wasn't able to say 'Goodnight, I love you'
And she would always say in a super fast adorable way, "okIloveyoubecareful" and then I would get my 'Sleep Sweet' that made me do just that.
I would look up at the Moon if it was out, maybe just the night sky, because i knew that those were things that we both used. I would look at the Moon and tell it to look out for her, make her safe. And if the moon was clouded over, or wasn't visible, the sky would carry the same message, and I knew I would speak to her tomorrow.
If I were to go out, I would call her and say the goodnights early. She always stayed up to talk to me, even though she wanted to go to bed. The hour time difference was enough to accumulate days of lost sleep that I owe her still.
Since we were in a long distance thing that would suck the life out of anything, we had our wonderful monthly trips to see each other. All too short, but perfect nonetheless. She came to see me first, and then i came to her. Then she started school and work was kicking her ass, so I came every month until spring. Taking the megabus was a pain in the ass, but I hope you've gathered that she was worth it.
She saw Minneapolis again in the latter part of Winter. She is a chill bug, but she loves the snow. I wished she had seen one of those quiet Minnesota winter nights where everything is muffled by the falling snow. That was something that I will regret not being able to show her.
So through the long distance love, and the nightly or more phone calls, we persisted. We made due with what we had. And I can speak for myself that I was happier than i had been in a long while. And not just because of her. Not only because i was with her. it was the way she made me feel about myself. The fact that I had someone who really believed in me. She always told me that she loved seeing me onstage hosting the show, or doing a fringe show because i looked so comfortable making people laugh. I don't remember the making people laugh part as well as she did, but we were both biased.
I'm still biased. I look back on this relationship with rose coloured glasses. I miss the moments we never talked about as well as the laughable memories of how goofy we were together. Making her laugh was my biggest accomplishment. And truth be told, I still like making her do it, though it seems the laughs are few and far between these days.
getting back to the long distance, and what was an impending move:
The tension was getting to us both. She was worried about me being there, I was worried about me being there too. It just boiled up I guess.
We spoke to each other one night in late April. It was just another one of our night time phone calls to see how the day went and to say nice things to each other. Sadly, it went sour. She was freaking out about me moving there, and I was too. I felt that whatever fears would be either laid to rest, or dealt with accordingly. Together. Like a team. An unfaltering unit that could beat all the odds of Long distance loves. we were different. We were Us.
The night ended with us not being together anymore. Stories and recounts may vary. He said/She said kind of stuff, but at the end of the day, we weren't that 'Us' Anymore. We were one part in Indianapolis, and one part in Minneapolis. 500 miles might as well have been several thousand. I couldn't show up at her door with flowers. I wasn't able to throw rocks at her window and climb the ivy to hold her once more.
The texts back and forth were still I love you's and I miss you's, but they were not as frequent.
When we did talk on the phone from that point on, it wasn't as often. I was trying to focus on other things, like what the hell happened next. I made myself scarce because I needed to not deal. I was not, nor probably ever will be (read: this whole thing now)able to cope with a loss like this. I had plans made and a new life to try out.
But then I started to really think. I didn't have that one person who would be in my corner while i was scared and in a city where I didn't know which end was up. yes, i had a support system here in indy, but I needed the comfort of a connection like i had with her.
She thought that I was only moving because of the convenience that she offered. I was going to sleep in her bed. move my clothes into drawers she had to move things out of. I was not only uprooting my own life, I was fucking up her own.
All because I wanted to be with her. I wanted to have a life with her, and I used the guise of trying to start some bullshit theatre that I knew not one thing about starting let alone running.
So yeah, i was lying to myself and others about why i was moving. I had moved here before for a woman, and now i was about to do it again.
Remembering how it went before, didn't help matters. But now I wasn't with her. I didn't have the support. I didn't have a place to stay. Everything had fallen apart, and now I wasn't even dealing with that. Just going through the motions like nothing was wrong. Sure, I was unbearable to be around. Whatever.
During one of our talks, and after i had decided to stay in Minneapolis, because what was the point of moving now, I made a mistake that leads us to now.
I told her that I could never be happy in Indianapolis.
I thought it was the truth at the time. i was mad. i was hurt because we should have been stronger than that.
It was mentioned once that when I started living in Indy, we could start dating and see how it went, and I'm not sure what happened to that. Aside from the fact that I wasn't moving anymore.
I did decide to go for the Summer. There was that. In my small Male mind, I felt that the testing it out thing might work out after all. But the communication thing fell apart. i know that it was my own fault. I should have called back when i missed a call from her. I shouldn't have tried to be 'strong and stoic' because i should have tried telling her that I just wanted her. That's it. I'm sure I did say that, but maybe just to myself.
I didn't talk to her on the phone for almost a week before I got here.
The last thing I said to her was 'I'll just see you on Tuesday when I get there'
I should have told her that I loved her. But she had started to move on, and wouldn't have listened like she might have only a month prior.
I know I skipped a few things, and maybe they should have been hit upon. Well, they aren't going to be. I'm here now. Here in Indianapolis, and I've had moments of pure perfection. And more Hell than i care to have in a lifetime. I'm bringing it on myself, because I didn't know that she had started moving on. There is another man in her life now, and I'm just the asshole who swooped in and fucked up her world by telling her that i still care for her.
She doesn't want a relationship, even though she is in one. I totally understand her need to move on. I also know that I am a complete fuckwit for thinking anything could be like it once was. I am justified in being hurt when I love you is still being said and hands are being held, and the new guy is on the other line waiting to see her again. it kills me that I am not able to love who I want. I want her. it's just that simple. It is travel to the ends of the earth kind of love, but whoever said that was enough is a screenwriter for Disney. I go to sleep at night hoping she will change her mind, walk up to me and tell me that I am on probation or something. make me jump through hoops and serve her tea in a cheerleaders outfit in from of our friends. Something, anything but what I am expected to endure. All the love in the world, and flowery language, but not enough love to close our eyes and fall backwards into each others arms. None of the things we used to say to each other. I told her last night that if we talk about what is going on between us, it has to be in person. Text has become to cold. hell, even talking in person gets up no where. I am in love with a woman who used to be in love with me, but isn't anymore. No matter what is said to me to keep me coming back for more, in the end it is really all over. And that is where I am. Right this moment. Typing out things that probably make no sense to anyone and make me look like a total bastard.
I'm hurt. And I feel like I lost the one thing that made sense. The horrible part is that I am am so masochistic that I am sitting next to her at a table writing this. We are laughing sometimes, we are holding hands sometimes. she touches my forehead, and I get goosebumps. She looks at me and smiles, I melt. I try not to think about the person she can be with. I try and tell her everything all at once, but all I come up with is making her hate being around me. I am ruining this whole Summer. This is me feeling sorry for myself and being pathetic. Well, more pathetic than what is above. I used to believe in Love as something so fucking powerful that it could destroy and create. All at once. It was a complete mystery, and the more I experienced it in my life, the more scared I became of how much it could make me feel like I could do anything, or make me into a pile of nothing, so numb that it would take a mac truck at 65 to make me feel anything.
The whole point of this was to show that I have loved someone fiercely. I still do, but I'm not allowed anymore. Maybe I am, but the more I do, the more hurt I get. I've finally reached the point where I am sick of being sad. I am sick of not being enough. And I'm not ready for anything that isn't her.
I am 12 years old, and I want everything I can't have. And I am still sitting at this table next to her, hoping that she gets over her cold and aces the test she is studying for. I am a mess and addicted to a drug who's street name is Amanda.
She is my drug of choice. I am addicted to her voice, and I constantly jones for her to ask me how my day was and to tell me to sleep sweet. For her to touch me the way she used to would be a plus as well, but it has to mean something. And I am too emo to be good for anything tonight.
If you need me, I am out building walls that are as tall as her own. With a door in it that I know i will give her a spare key for.
I'm masochistic to the end, I know...
But I still wish love was enough for right now. Everything else can wait till tomorrow.
There is no such thing as Staying Awesome in matters of the heart. I know. I tried.
Meanwhile, I am still Andy
I love you.
This could be kept inside my head and heart, never seeing the light of day.
But it won't be. I warn you, you won't like me after reading this, so why not just move on to something you like doing instead of reading a ramble of things that you won't be able to make heads or tails of.
I just re-read it and it reads like VCR instructions. The sentiment is there, but I am a bad writer. It seemed like a good idea at the time...
I can bottle things up like there is no tomorrow, but there isn't any point now.
Nothing I keep inside stays there for long. This blog is nothing but misery and whining about woah is me stuff anyway. I remember it used to be funny. It used to have wit and some semblance of being a good read if you didn't have anything else to do and was the only thing on the internet left. You should always do the dishes before you read this blog. The dishes, nine times out of ten would be more useful.
But what will it hurt if I stop being cryptic and tell you what is really going on with me?
I've lost hope tonight.
I never really written about Amanda. I don't know why that is. I used to think it was for her privacy, but then she would always ask me why i never wrote about her. I have things on paper about her, but I didn't think a public blog on a public internet was the place for our relationship. She was mine at one point, and I was a part of something really good. I would talk about her in person, and if people would ask and were willing to listen, I would speak at length.
She is an Anthropologist. A fancy term for someone much more intelligent than am or ever will be. A go getter, and perfectionist. A planner of things and a writer of lists about what to make lists about. She has quirks that make me swoon and want more and more. She was supportive and kind about everything I do. Her unique beauty is distracting, and looking at a picture of her meant that you looked at it all day. Physically in your hand staring, or in your head. I would want more and more of her, and when I am with her, I am infinite and everything is perfect. I wanted so much to spend my life with her, that I devised a plan to move to Indiana to be with her. And that is where it got tricky. She was in Indiana. She is still in Indiana. She is twenty feet from me as i write this blog, and I can never touch her again. This is why I am unhappy. This is why I am writing this. To tell you how much she meant to me. Or means to me. Currently. Present and future tense implied.
I ruined, like most of the relationships before this one, the thing that made me feel like anything was possible. I am, as many know and few forget, a coward. Let me explain. I saw moving to Indiana as a way of running away, just like I saw Minneapolis as a way of escape. Both cities were my personal circus. I needed to get to them as fast as possible because I thought that they would automatically fill the void that I needed filling. There is more to that story of why i wanted to get to Minneapolis, but it is so far in the past that even i forget some detail. But i know why i wanted Indianapolis this time. I wanted to start something real. No more meeting people at random and facebook befriending them or myspace buddy-ing them and flirting via messenger and meeting and subsequently hooking up and starting the cycle over again. Its a generalization, but it fits at this moment, as my fingers hit the keyboard with menacing speed and inaccuracy. Seriously. Spell Check is my best friend right now. I'm just a man who had reached his limit. i had grown up, and I literally saw the kids and the big dog and the matching luggage and the adventures to far off lands in order for her to dig things up and study them. I would write to make minimum wage and live the happiest life known to man next to the woman that made me feel like I had just as much to offer the world as she did, because she believed in me. And i her. At least, that was what growing up meant to me. Or means to me. i don't know. it isn't going to happen, so maybe it will change in twenty minutes or tomorrow afternoon or never. Maybe my thoughts on what a grown up is revolves around the mass stereotype of some idiot (myself in this instance) who never really grows up. My parents are grown up, and they don't go on adventures to the American southwest and dig up human remains from ancient civilizations and make rubbings of glyphs on rocky slopes that are older than the continents. But they had kids, and were at one point in love, so maybe they were a different kind of grown up? I honestly will never know. I just know what I want. or wanted. meh. end rant.
I'm going in and out of topic, apologies. As the date of my move to Indy approached, I was mentioning more and more of my nerves. Still looking forward to it, but also down with the understanding that I was making one HELL of a life change. Friends and family were of mixed thought. 'You should do it. It will be great for you'
'Fuck that. Don't go. We need you here. Why Indiana?'
I was going to Indy to start a band or something. No, it was a theatre. Some space of my own. It was a silly idea made of whispy dreams and a barrel full of hopes.
I re-thought it, and realized that it would be uphill. No matter what i did, it wouldn't be what I really wanted. And I knew, deep down, that I was moving for her. To be with her.
And it wasn't fair. it just wasn't fair at all. The pressure she would have felt to comfort me while i was a stranger in a strange land would have been too much.
We were long distance since August. We spoke every night and sometimes during the day. I could count on one hand the times I wasn't able to say 'Goodnight, I love you'
And she would always say in a super fast adorable way, "okIloveyoubecareful" and then I would get my 'Sleep Sweet' that made me do just that.
I would look up at the Moon if it was out, maybe just the night sky, because i knew that those were things that we both used. I would look at the Moon and tell it to look out for her, make her safe. And if the moon was clouded over, or wasn't visible, the sky would carry the same message, and I knew I would speak to her tomorrow.
If I were to go out, I would call her and say the goodnights early. She always stayed up to talk to me, even though she wanted to go to bed. The hour time difference was enough to accumulate days of lost sleep that I owe her still.
Since we were in a long distance thing that would suck the life out of anything, we had our wonderful monthly trips to see each other. All too short, but perfect nonetheless. She came to see me first, and then i came to her. Then she started school and work was kicking her ass, so I came every month until spring. Taking the megabus was a pain in the ass, but I hope you've gathered that she was worth it.
She saw Minneapolis again in the latter part of Winter. She is a chill bug, but she loves the snow. I wished she had seen one of those quiet Minnesota winter nights where everything is muffled by the falling snow. That was something that I will regret not being able to show her.
So through the long distance love, and the nightly or more phone calls, we persisted. We made due with what we had. And I can speak for myself that I was happier than i had been in a long while. And not just because of her. Not only because i was with her. it was the way she made me feel about myself. The fact that I had someone who really believed in me. She always told me that she loved seeing me onstage hosting the show, or doing a fringe show because i looked so comfortable making people laugh. I don't remember the making people laugh part as well as she did, but we were both biased.
I'm still biased. I look back on this relationship with rose coloured glasses. I miss the moments we never talked about as well as the laughable memories of how goofy we were together. Making her laugh was my biggest accomplishment. And truth be told, I still like making her do it, though it seems the laughs are few and far between these days.
getting back to the long distance, and what was an impending move:
The tension was getting to us both. She was worried about me being there, I was worried about me being there too. It just boiled up I guess.
We spoke to each other one night in late April. It was just another one of our night time phone calls to see how the day went and to say nice things to each other. Sadly, it went sour. She was freaking out about me moving there, and I was too. I felt that whatever fears would be either laid to rest, or dealt with accordingly. Together. Like a team. An unfaltering unit that could beat all the odds of Long distance loves. we were different. We were Us.
The night ended with us not being together anymore. Stories and recounts may vary. He said/She said kind of stuff, but at the end of the day, we weren't that 'Us' Anymore. We were one part in Indianapolis, and one part in Minneapolis. 500 miles might as well have been several thousand. I couldn't show up at her door with flowers. I wasn't able to throw rocks at her window and climb the ivy to hold her once more.
The texts back and forth were still I love you's and I miss you's, but they were not as frequent.
When we did talk on the phone from that point on, it wasn't as often. I was trying to focus on other things, like what the hell happened next. I made myself scarce because I needed to not deal. I was not, nor probably ever will be (read: this whole thing now)able to cope with a loss like this. I had plans made and a new life to try out.
But then I started to really think. I didn't have that one person who would be in my corner while i was scared and in a city where I didn't know which end was up. yes, i had a support system here in indy, but I needed the comfort of a connection like i had with her.
She thought that I was only moving because of the convenience that she offered. I was going to sleep in her bed. move my clothes into drawers she had to move things out of. I was not only uprooting my own life, I was fucking up her own.
All because I wanted to be with her. I wanted to have a life with her, and I used the guise of trying to start some bullshit theatre that I knew not one thing about starting let alone running.
So yeah, i was lying to myself and others about why i was moving. I had moved here before for a woman, and now i was about to do it again.
Remembering how it went before, didn't help matters. But now I wasn't with her. I didn't have the support. I didn't have a place to stay. Everything had fallen apart, and now I wasn't even dealing with that. Just going through the motions like nothing was wrong. Sure, I was unbearable to be around. Whatever.
During one of our talks, and after i had decided to stay in Minneapolis, because what was the point of moving now, I made a mistake that leads us to now.
I told her that I could never be happy in Indianapolis.
I thought it was the truth at the time. i was mad. i was hurt because we should have been stronger than that.
It was mentioned once that when I started living in Indy, we could start dating and see how it went, and I'm not sure what happened to that. Aside from the fact that I wasn't moving anymore.
I did decide to go for the Summer. There was that. In my small Male mind, I felt that the testing it out thing might work out after all. But the communication thing fell apart. i know that it was my own fault. I should have called back when i missed a call from her. I shouldn't have tried to be 'strong and stoic' because i should have tried telling her that I just wanted her. That's it. I'm sure I did say that, but maybe just to myself.
I didn't talk to her on the phone for almost a week before I got here.
The last thing I said to her was 'I'll just see you on Tuesday when I get there'
I should have told her that I loved her. But she had started to move on, and wouldn't have listened like she might have only a month prior.
I know I skipped a few things, and maybe they should have been hit upon. Well, they aren't going to be. I'm here now. Here in Indianapolis, and I've had moments of pure perfection. And more Hell than i care to have in a lifetime. I'm bringing it on myself, because I didn't know that she had started moving on. There is another man in her life now, and I'm just the asshole who swooped in and fucked up her world by telling her that i still care for her.
She doesn't want a relationship, even though she is in one. I totally understand her need to move on. I also know that I am a complete fuckwit for thinking anything could be like it once was. I am justified in being hurt when I love you is still being said and hands are being held, and the new guy is on the other line waiting to see her again. it kills me that I am not able to love who I want. I want her. it's just that simple. It is travel to the ends of the earth kind of love, but whoever said that was enough is a screenwriter for Disney. I go to sleep at night hoping she will change her mind, walk up to me and tell me that I am on probation or something. make me jump through hoops and serve her tea in a cheerleaders outfit in from of our friends. Something, anything but what I am expected to endure. All the love in the world, and flowery language, but not enough love to close our eyes and fall backwards into each others arms. None of the things we used to say to each other. I told her last night that if we talk about what is going on between us, it has to be in person. Text has become to cold. hell, even talking in person gets up no where. I am in love with a woman who used to be in love with me, but isn't anymore. No matter what is said to me to keep me coming back for more, in the end it is really all over. And that is where I am. Right this moment. Typing out things that probably make no sense to anyone and make me look like a total bastard.
I'm hurt. And I feel like I lost the one thing that made sense. The horrible part is that I am am so masochistic that I am sitting next to her at a table writing this. We are laughing sometimes, we are holding hands sometimes. she touches my forehead, and I get goosebumps. She looks at me and smiles, I melt. I try not to think about the person she can be with. I try and tell her everything all at once, but all I come up with is making her hate being around me. I am ruining this whole Summer. This is me feeling sorry for myself and being pathetic. Well, more pathetic than what is above. I used to believe in Love as something so fucking powerful that it could destroy and create. All at once. It was a complete mystery, and the more I experienced it in my life, the more scared I became of how much it could make me feel like I could do anything, or make me into a pile of nothing, so numb that it would take a mac truck at 65 to make me feel anything.
The whole point of this was to show that I have loved someone fiercely. I still do, but I'm not allowed anymore. Maybe I am, but the more I do, the more hurt I get. I've finally reached the point where I am sick of being sad. I am sick of not being enough. And I'm not ready for anything that isn't her.
I am 12 years old, and I want everything I can't have. And I am still sitting at this table next to her, hoping that she gets over her cold and aces the test she is studying for. I am a mess and addicted to a drug who's street name is Amanda.
She is my drug of choice. I am addicted to her voice, and I constantly jones for her to ask me how my day was and to tell me to sleep sweet. For her to touch me the way she used to would be a plus as well, but it has to mean something. And I am too emo to be good for anything tonight.
If you need me, I am out building walls that are as tall as her own. With a door in it that I know i will give her a spare key for.
I'm masochistic to the end, I know...
But I still wish love was enough for right now. Everything else can wait till tomorrow.
There is no such thing as Staying Awesome in matters of the heart. I know. I tried.
Meanwhile, I am still Andy
I love you.
Update #5 & #6
Last night was needed.
The earlier parts of the evening are embarrassing to me, and each time I re-live them, I realize what a fool I am sometimes.
When i want or need something or rather, someone, I keep trying to get it. Even if it isn't what they want at the time. I am selfish, i think, and the center of my own universe. This shit has got to stop. The more you try to hold on, the looser your grip.
If you love something, set it free, etc. etc.
I am back to writing. I got some things done today that doesn't suck too much. It's a rough draft, so I'm ok with it. I still find myself editing as i go, which is on my long list of personal to do less of. Maybe i will compile a list of the big stuff and keep it in my wallet, check it off as I go...
In other news, I had to stop writing the blog in order to gather thoughts and deal with some housekeeping. The above passage was written after the night in Broad Ripple. There was much more to the blog, but I think it was best to leave out some bits. Some memories are either best forgotten, or best left in my head.
We went as a group to see our friend Andrea DJ at a great little club that had lots to look at. There were train wrecks to see, and people to meet. And the music. That girl has great taste in music. Usually when anyone spins music, there is a 5 to 65% chance of crap being thrown into the mix. She did very well. I didn't hear one song that didn't suck.
And she played a request for me that allowed even Mr. Brynildson the chance to dance with a very attractive lady.
And I do so like going out on the town...
Note to self, I need a black sport coat that is too big for me so i can feel comfortable in my own skin. Maybe Indy has some descent thrift stores I can go to. I'd like a birthday coat. Maybe something with tails...
Amanda fell down with some terrible flu-like symptoms, and I have been taking care of her. It feels too natural, and I know myself and am probably headed for that edge again. The one where I fall off and spin uncontrollably into a dramatic abyss. But she needs help, and i can't think about that too much now. Brave face, Brave voice. Both have to be put to use.
She is napping right now before a tiny luch and her need to do some homework. She went to work today only to turn around and come home.
It's better that way, as she needs the rest. And theTap where she works was dreadfully slow. Apparently it's a holiday. Happy 4th, everyone.
It's raining here today, which bring a welcome cool breeze. Terrible for the fireworks, but there's always tomorrow.
When the cool breeze gives her a chill, there are plently of blankets nearby. keep in mind that it's hotter than hell in her room, but i am ever the furnace. The fever is getting a bit better when i touch her forehead, but I think there is still a ways to go.
When she wakes and eats and starts homework, i will try and pump out a few pages in my project. That is going slowly, by the way. there is always some distraction that warrants more attention. But again, I'll get back to it later today.
I've decided that I hate text messages, and only want letters. I figure that the cost of a text is as much as a postcard on some cell plans, so that is all i will be accepting form now on. I think this grand idea will last all of fifteen minutes. Still, there should be some kind of twitter for the Amish. And i kind of want to go Amish today. Technology has only caused me grief in the last 24 hours.
I forgot to announce that our Lindsay(indy) fell and broke her ankle. She did this on Thursday night during the fun we were having in Broad Ripple. I hope she isn't in too much pain, but she does deserve a bit of punishment because her Buffy viewing is making me become addicted to that show. And that is not conducive to writing.
I'd punch her or throw a big pillow at her, but she is using crutches and si confined to the couch. There is just something about a show with vampires and demons that makes everything better. A speedy recovery is expected.
I need to start making some soup for a sick girl. More to come, I promise.
Stay Awesome and freedom rules.
Andy
ps- I'm hoping that I can get through the stuff I need to get through so I can be a fully functional Andy again. Thank you for bearing with me, and for your patronage to this very small window into my life.
The earlier parts of the evening are embarrassing to me, and each time I re-live them, I realize what a fool I am sometimes.
When i want or need something or rather, someone, I keep trying to get it. Even if it isn't what they want at the time. I am selfish, i think, and the center of my own universe. This shit has got to stop. The more you try to hold on, the looser your grip.
If you love something, set it free, etc. etc.
I am back to writing. I got some things done today that doesn't suck too much. It's a rough draft, so I'm ok with it. I still find myself editing as i go, which is on my long list of personal to do less of. Maybe i will compile a list of the big stuff and keep it in my wallet, check it off as I go...
In other news, I had to stop writing the blog in order to gather thoughts and deal with some housekeeping. The above passage was written after the night in Broad Ripple. There was much more to the blog, but I think it was best to leave out some bits. Some memories are either best forgotten, or best left in my head.
We went as a group to see our friend Andrea DJ at a great little club that had lots to look at. There were train wrecks to see, and people to meet. And the music. That girl has great taste in music. Usually when anyone spins music, there is a 5 to 65% chance of crap being thrown into the mix. She did very well. I didn't hear one song that didn't suck.
And she played a request for me that allowed even Mr. Brynildson the chance to dance with a very attractive lady.
And I do so like going out on the town...
Note to self, I need a black sport coat that is too big for me so i can feel comfortable in my own skin. Maybe Indy has some descent thrift stores I can go to. I'd like a birthday coat. Maybe something with tails...
Amanda fell down with some terrible flu-like symptoms, and I have been taking care of her. It feels too natural, and I know myself and am probably headed for that edge again. The one where I fall off and spin uncontrollably into a dramatic abyss. But she needs help, and i can't think about that too much now. Brave face, Brave voice. Both have to be put to use.
She is napping right now before a tiny luch and her need to do some homework. She went to work today only to turn around and come home.
It's better that way, as she needs the rest. And theTap where she works was dreadfully slow. Apparently it's a holiday. Happy 4th, everyone.
It's raining here today, which bring a welcome cool breeze. Terrible for the fireworks, but there's always tomorrow.
When the cool breeze gives her a chill, there are plently of blankets nearby. keep in mind that it's hotter than hell in her room, but i am ever the furnace. The fever is getting a bit better when i touch her forehead, but I think there is still a ways to go.
When she wakes and eats and starts homework, i will try and pump out a few pages in my project. That is going slowly, by the way. there is always some distraction that warrants more attention. But again, I'll get back to it later today.
I've decided that I hate text messages, and only want letters. I figure that the cost of a text is as much as a postcard on some cell plans, so that is all i will be accepting form now on. I think this grand idea will last all of fifteen minutes. Still, there should be some kind of twitter for the Amish. And i kind of want to go Amish today. Technology has only caused me grief in the last 24 hours.
I forgot to announce that our Lindsay(indy) fell and broke her ankle. She did this on Thursday night during the fun we were having in Broad Ripple. I hope she isn't in too much pain, but she does deserve a bit of punishment because her Buffy viewing is making me become addicted to that show. And that is not conducive to writing.
I'd punch her or throw a big pillow at her, but she is using crutches and si confined to the couch. There is just something about a show with vampires and demons that makes everything better. A speedy recovery is expected.
I need to start making some soup for a sick girl. More to come, I promise.
Stay Awesome and freedom rules.
Andy
ps- I'm hoping that I can get through the stuff I need to get through so I can be a fully functional Andy again. Thank you for bearing with me, and for your patronage to this very small window into my life.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Update #4
Not much to report today since i let loose the floodgates of shit onto the interweb.
There are moments of realness that are both amazingly great and horribly upsetting.
And then there are the moments of limbo, where I don't know where I am, or when i am due for some feeling back in my body. i go numb, and that is the worse feeling. The nothing. The thing i am riding away from on a flying dragon that looks like a dog.
Kagagoogoo is playing my theme song.
I hear from a couple people that it might be going around, that nothing feeling.
There are always those brief glimpses of sunshine through the cloudy days, and then I am reminded that it is summer. And this was a summer of trying shit out.
I am just not being given the opportunity to try that shit out.
Maybe tomorrow, always tomorrow.
Today i cleaned a house to help Lisa out and let James sleep a bit longer. It was a welcomed distraction, but i was up way too late last night, and way too early this morning. My adrenaline kicked into overtime this morning because of a phone call, and my heart was beating too fast for sleep to happen again. I have never thought that I would have a panic attack, but I am sure I have had a thousand since i got here. And maybe more since Mid May.
I am told, though, that I am not alone.
And that is comforting, but i wish it wasn't the case.
There is too much stuff to accomplish, too many things i need to say to let it get bogged down with worries and awful feelings.
I just want to share the good things for a bit.
I want opportunity to impress and show that I have things to offer.
Doesn't anyone?
I have been repeating a line from LA Story in my head yesterday and today. And right now. As I type it out, I am saying it.
'A kiss may not be the truth, but it is what we wish were true'
Christ, if i could write like that, I could win any heart or mind.
I didn't get any writing done today save for this posting. Maybe tonight, I will ask if I can just sit and write in good company.
I feel bipolar, and it isn't good. I'm smiling one moment, and wanting to cry the next. Feeling lethargic and empty, and then filled with a hurt that doesn't seem there is an end to.
I don't know what the deal is, but I know I still want to write, so there is that. I have to hold on to that.
Like I said, maybe I can get something done tonight.
I'm going to a club called Spin in Broad Ripple to see an old friend DJ. Getting out of the house a bit would help, I think. But then, i'm crazy and should be locked in a vault until the middle ages happen again.
I just wasn't born for these times, right Mr. Wilson?
Stay Awesome.
Andy
(Sorry for all the uncapitalized 'I's' They annoy me too, but not enough to do anything about them.)
There are moments of realness that are both amazingly great and horribly upsetting.
And then there are the moments of limbo, where I don't know where I am, or when i am due for some feeling back in my body. i go numb, and that is the worse feeling. The nothing. The thing i am riding away from on a flying dragon that looks like a dog.
Kagagoogoo is playing my theme song.
I hear from a couple people that it might be going around, that nothing feeling.
There are always those brief glimpses of sunshine through the cloudy days, and then I am reminded that it is summer. And this was a summer of trying shit out.
I am just not being given the opportunity to try that shit out.
Maybe tomorrow, always tomorrow.
Today i cleaned a house to help Lisa out and let James sleep a bit longer. It was a welcomed distraction, but i was up way too late last night, and way too early this morning. My adrenaline kicked into overtime this morning because of a phone call, and my heart was beating too fast for sleep to happen again. I have never thought that I would have a panic attack, but I am sure I have had a thousand since i got here. And maybe more since Mid May.
I am told, though, that I am not alone.
And that is comforting, but i wish it wasn't the case.
There is too much stuff to accomplish, too many things i need to say to let it get bogged down with worries and awful feelings.
I just want to share the good things for a bit.
I want opportunity to impress and show that I have things to offer.
Doesn't anyone?
I have been repeating a line from LA Story in my head yesterday and today. And right now. As I type it out, I am saying it.
'A kiss may not be the truth, but it is what we wish were true'
Christ, if i could write like that, I could win any heart or mind.
I didn't get any writing done today save for this posting. Maybe tonight, I will ask if I can just sit and write in good company.
I feel bipolar, and it isn't good. I'm smiling one moment, and wanting to cry the next. Feeling lethargic and empty, and then filled with a hurt that doesn't seem there is an end to.
I don't know what the deal is, but I know I still want to write, so there is that. I have to hold on to that.
Like I said, maybe I can get something done tonight.
I'm going to a club called Spin in Broad Ripple to see an old friend DJ. Getting out of the house a bit would help, I think. But then, i'm crazy and should be locked in a vault until the middle ages happen again.
I just wasn't born for these times, right Mr. Wilson?
Stay Awesome.
Andy
(Sorry for all the uncapitalized 'I's' They annoy me too, but not enough to do anything about them.)
Brave voice not spoken here.
I'm not in the best place right now. My heart hurts and nothing is going where I want it to go.
I'm drinking to forget tonight, and for some fucked up reason, it isn't working.
I would switch to pot, but I am not 17 and don't know where to get it.
It's just not what I wanted, you know? This summer was supposed to be the 'summer of trying stuff out' To see if I could do something I have never attempted and to be something for more than just a few days a month. No traveling or time off of work or school. Nothing but maybe normalcy for a while. And then the real decisions would start.
This was going to be perfect. Something I needed.
Now all I am is a pissed off so and so. Mad and jealous of something I heard in passing. And since I don't know anything, all I can do is hate some fucking creole joint and the ones who work there.
I hate what i am right now and i hate who I am right now.
This has got to change, because like it or not, I am here until Late August.
I looked into escaping early this morning. It doesn't work like that. I wanted to be the coward I am, and run away like I always do when shit gets real. And how real is it? i live in a fucking dream world anyway. To think that I could do what I want when and where I wanted to is beyond masochism. It should be as criminal as suicide.
And please don't read that word like i do and have alarm bells go off in your head.
I'm going to be ok. I just needed a way of venting, and this is my way.
I do really need some communication from the other side, though. If you do read this, and have the time to talk, please call me. I'd love to hear from folks. I talked to Linds yesterday, and i was putting on a brave voice for her. Brave voice. I both love and hate that i wrote it like that. I hate the word Brave because I think it is reserved for emotional breakthrough. Things people don't usually say or do because it terrifies them. Running into a building that is on fire isn't brave. It's your job. People need to be rescued sometimes. But spilling your heart out, and then getting nothing back...Just doing it because if you keep it inside one more second, it will make your chest explode: That is brave. Damn the torpedoes. I wish i had a three month time window time machine. I wish i was brave. There are all these things I would do with both. And please dont take from this that I think there are no brave people. I've watched Conan the Barbarian too many times to think differently. (Mild attempt at humor aside)
I just feel that if you are scared, it's best to beat the shit out of what scares you. No matter how big or scary it is. Sometimes you just need to go with it. Do what terrifies you and hope to God that it won't hurt as bad this time around.
I am a complete and total idiot, I know this full well.
Christ this fucking sucks.
I was talking to (Indy)Linds and told her it was time for Shakabuku. I cannot stress that enough. -Spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever-
There has to be a time when enough is enough.
A time for everything turn turn turn.
And no, none of this is related to writing. I'm just a mess 100% of the time, and would hope that you realized it by now and still liked me anyway.
tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow.
Going to sleep it off now. Stay Awesome.
A
I'm drinking to forget tonight, and for some fucked up reason, it isn't working.
I would switch to pot, but I am not 17 and don't know where to get it.
It's just not what I wanted, you know? This summer was supposed to be the 'summer of trying stuff out' To see if I could do something I have never attempted and to be something for more than just a few days a month. No traveling or time off of work or school. Nothing but maybe normalcy for a while. And then the real decisions would start.
This was going to be perfect. Something I needed.
Now all I am is a pissed off so and so. Mad and jealous of something I heard in passing. And since I don't know anything, all I can do is hate some fucking creole joint and the ones who work there.
I hate what i am right now and i hate who I am right now.
This has got to change, because like it or not, I am here until Late August.
I looked into escaping early this morning. It doesn't work like that. I wanted to be the coward I am, and run away like I always do when shit gets real. And how real is it? i live in a fucking dream world anyway. To think that I could do what I want when and where I wanted to is beyond masochism. It should be as criminal as suicide.
And please don't read that word like i do and have alarm bells go off in your head.
I'm going to be ok. I just needed a way of venting, and this is my way.
I do really need some communication from the other side, though. If you do read this, and have the time to talk, please call me. I'd love to hear from folks. I talked to Linds yesterday, and i was putting on a brave voice for her. Brave voice. I both love and hate that i wrote it like that. I hate the word Brave because I think it is reserved for emotional breakthrough. Things people don't usually say or do because it terrifies them. Running into a building that is on fire isn't brave. It's your job. People need to be rescued sometimes. But spilling your heart out, and then getting nothing back...Just doing it because if you keep it inside one more second, it will make your chest explode: That is brave. Damn the torpedoes. I wish i had a three month time window time machine. I wish i was brave. There are all these things I would do with both. And please dont take from this that I think there are no brave people. I've watched Conan the Barbarian too many times to think differently. (Mild attempt at humor aside)
I just feel that if you are scared, it's best to beat the shit out of what scares you. No matter how big or scary it is. Sometimes you just need to go with it. Do what terrifies you and hope to God that it won't hurt as bad this time around.
I am a complete and total idiot, I know this full well.
Christ this fucking sucks.
I was talking to (Indy)Linds and told her it was time for Shakabuku. I cannot stress that enough. -Spiritual kick to the head that alters your reality forever-
There has to be a time when enough is enough.
A time for everything turn turn turn.
And no, none of this is related to writing. I'm just a mess 100% of the time, and would hope that you realized it by now and still liked me anyway.
tomorrow tomorrow tomorrow.
Going to sleep it off now. Stay Awesome.
A
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