As promised.

August has come and gone.
It seems like I was just saying that about July and talking about how it was my birthday.
Now, as it so happens, I am just shy of two months into my 31st year.
Things are going about on par with everything thus far.
I love it when I rhyme without intention.

There is an edit to make in my super sad and awful posting from a couple weeks ago:
I wrote that I 'hated it here'
Well, In little bracket-like-parenthesis-do jobs, I wrote 'Taps on chest'
It was a metaphor for where I am inside.
The head is clear enough, but I found myself growing tired of the usual parenthesis

THIS JUST IN AS OF 9/17/2009

MUCH More editing and time passes.

The nights keep getting colder and lonelier in the House of Danger.
My name will remain the same for a long time due to the loss of what was a new beginning to a blossoming relationship. Had i gotten married, it would have become
Andrew (David) Danger King-Brynildson. I still do like that 'Danger King' part...
The story is sad but true:
In which, Amanda and I were together for what seemed like moments. Trying again to have what was a trying long distance relationship while I was in Minneapolis, and she was here in Indy.
That 'getting back together' was one of the main reasons why the updates were so few and far between. I was happy we were back on a 'together' track, but as it turns out, it wasn't meant to last for very long.
Lots of staring off into space with glazed over eyes and a hollow pit in what was once my inside area.
You know the drill: Food tastes bad, but is still there to comfort you because it wants you as much as you want it (food is love/eat your emotions in the form of sugary snacky things). Music only has lyrics aimed at the lonely broken hearted. Sunsets are avoided because what's the point in looking at them alone? You watch laugh out loud comedies and when you actually do laugh out loud it feels weird because you think you should be crying instead. And then, of course, you do cry because you want this all to go away.
You go through all this for the Glory and the Power of love, but there isn't any Pat Morita to train you into a fighting machine.
If you caught that reference, I applaud you.
So I mope and I dwell and I drink and I sit stone faced in the company of friends because I am too sad to do much else. And then I lather, rinse, repeat.
You have been there, I am there now, we shall all go down together...
I will move on because I don't care much for thinking about something that in my mind was leading to an alter made of stones with groups of friends and family watching and waiting for the cake and the dancing.
That stuff will have to wait for someone else. Probably Bill and Jen, who tie the knot in October of next year. (Where I will STILL be the Officiant...What? Still you say? Was there any doubt? Read on, dear reader, read on)

I am lost right now. Not lost in the sense that I am on an Island filled with book clubs and Polar Bears (can you tell I only got to Season 2 of lost? Maybe a bit of season 3?)
I'm trying to find where I belong. What clan I should be wearing the tartan of.
What zip code to make people send all those letters that I need to receive, yet have no drive or follow through to send letters of my own out. Did that make sense? I'm lazy. It boils down to that. i should write a fucking letter sometime. jeez.
Moving. The tour must keep moving....
I was supposed to be here two months and some change.
It was a three hour tour as it were, and I had the tickets all set up for my triumphant return to the Twin Cities where I could safely be that guy who lives in him Mother's basement and thinks about what he did wrong in life to get him to that station.
Instead, I am a guest in a house of one of my best friends, her husband (who might as well be my Brother) and their Daughter who is the light of anyone's life just by looking at her and seeing her smile.
I do what I can around the house to help out. I turn off lights that they accidentally leave on, I do the dishes when everyone is asleep and I cobble shoes in the night so that they can have some bread with their soup. Seriously, does no one understand me but me? Is this thing even on?

At any rate, I am going through a mid life crisis a bit earlier than scheduled. I have very low self esteem in regards to every part of my life. Be it Job, relationships or body issues, I am in a dark and stormy place. The way I see it, I need a challenge. Something so terrifying to me that it kicks my ass in gear and I start moving forward in an upward direction.
I see myself as moving forward in a stay in the same rut kind direction. It needs to stop. I need to grow as a person. And as several other things.
There are things I want to do, and to do them (and I know it sounds stupid to some)I need to stay in Indy for a bit.

I am sure more on that later, as I need to explain more. Right now, I am at a loss.

My writing has slowed down to a trickle in the last few weeks, and it is troubling. But i still have the desire to do it, just not the drive. I need to pick up a six pack of motivation and change my heathen ways.
At least I kind of like typing.
My father gave me an old typewriter of his that he used for work years ago. He even had an extra box of ribbons, so the thing should last the rest of my life. it's one of those huge electric ones with the ball of letters instead of the arms that have one letter a piece.
It weighs about a hundred pounds.
I call it Beast. Sometimes I have found myself calling it Hank McCoy, but that is for another blog about being a nerd.
For all its glory, Beast will pale in comparison to the machine that awaits me in Minnesota. Lindsey and Roni got me an antique typewriter for my birthday. It needs new ribbon, but I am sure I can find somewhere that would have it. And it is about 100 years old. Excited for that is an understatement.
yep. loads of stuff. I have forgotten most of what I wanted to tell you. I have heard from a few people that they were worried about me because I sort of fell off the face of the planet.
Even my precious facebook has suffered my absence.
But I am back now, and ready to hold your hands as I help you up the mountain of life as we hike into tomorrow and other metaphors I am too lazy to write too much more just now.

Puppy update:
A while ago, I mentioned that we had found a puppy in the middle of the street.
She was left by some asshat in a huge hoopty with penis compensation rims.
he opened the passenger door. Pushed her out. Closed the door. Drove away.
We immediately fed and watered her.
I instantly fell in love with her, for she is a puppy.
And that night, we decided to adopt her forever and ever.
By 'that night' I mean after we had gone to The Metro, Josh Carson's favourite bar in Indianapolis, to sing karaoke.
We were a bit tipsy when we got home, and though I wanted to call her 'Vinz Clortho, Keymaster of Gozer' I was outvoted.
Since we had been singing total Eclipse of the Heart at the top of our lungs at the bar, Bonnie Tyler was the official name of the dog.
she is a Black lab/ German Shepherd mix.
Very friendly, and near perfect. All she needs is wings and fire breath. Those things would make the perfect puppy. Maybe a unicorn horn... But I digress.
Amanda added a middle name of 'Olivia' and since it was not rejected outright, it too has stuck. I secretly call her 'Starfire' in my head, though. Tell no one.

I assure you I will tell more later, as there is other stuff I want to talk about.
Tonight i am going out to try and develop some kind of social life outside of these sacred walls.

Wish me luck. I don't really like clubs.

Stay Awesome for me.

Andy