on a Tuesday

Beginning a new book is always hard because i get distracted. Awful as that is, if i don't get distracted, the worst is if i fall asleep. I'm hard to keep interested. I'm tough to keep awake when sitting comfortably without flashing lights or human interaction. The worst is that i notice when i'm slipping and do nothing to change the eventual slump. I could stand up, walk around, stretch out my back and arms.

Let's start reading with purpose, because you're happy when you're reading something. After you've read a few chapters, you're happy to have something to talk about and you're happy thinking about the way language was used in new, exciting ways.

Writing has a few other benefits that reading doesn't allow. Expression feeds creativity, and the creativity you're searching for right now can begin here with this keyboard and end in someone's face.

Now here i am after work and i'm listenin to iTunes and drinkin a beer. David and Lacee are back from the tiki bar and they played bingo. Dave says that i would make a better Bingo announcer than the drunk girl that hosted it tonight.

I was told stories from the kitchen that involved our head chef fighting two men with his brother. His brother bit a guy's finger off, and then full-sprint kicked a guy in the stomach. And that wasn't even the end of the fight.
Another kitchen worker told me about how he was in a gang in Maine, and that's why he had a tattoo that either read NNK, or NUK. Which stands for "now you know". the moral behind it is that everything is done for money. "it's all about the money. Now You Know."

I'm in demand. I have a personality that attracts. I have a physical appearance that endures sweat and hideous old clothes and nothing but underwear. I'm a skinny, typical diver, and a pale, typical nerd. I have the ability to relate to any movie ever made, while coincidentally hating it.
I'm getting book suggestions and travel suggestions instead of which direction to look, or which person to kill. I'm finding food has so much more value - BECAUSE I REQUIRE CALORIES. There's no doubt that my metabolism has been fired up from coaching. But the sheer amount of energy i have from being thrown into the working world double-time has required my body to consume twice as much.

I'm up at 9am and instead of getting out of bed like i should, i'm in bed, looking at my phone, reaping the rewards of a well-shared link or thought or comment. This virtual amalgamation of liking myself needs to be put towards better use. I can stay in contact with people without the morning routine of sitting and scrolling. There are push ups and yoga and coffee that i could be making.

i'm thrilled to have the opportunity at C-level, but i'm terrified that it will make all of these bad habits in my life come back to life. i'm not playing videogames, but i'm not planning any more diving practices, or working on any new flyers or ads. I'm not scoping out what i should be scoping out.

FORGIVE YOURSELF, YOU'VE NOT BEEN HERE THAT LONG.
You hit the ground running, you were at the pool for the first 12 days strait. You found a job in your first week and they loved you by the end of the 4th day. Your coworkers already admire and trust you, your divers will learn to love you because you're going to compliment them and rally their spirits and encourage them to grow. The kids you coach will hear your words and you will cherish every influence you have. Their parents will find a way to love/hate you in new and exciting ways!

find the way to your heart and keep it secret

December 2014 - break it open and write in it

This is literally a giant (or small) cavern that i am glibly pouring words into. I'm sitting here at Elliot's house in Soulard, basically the dog-sitter, smoking weed and playing xbox all day every day. I work 3 days a week at a rib/taco restaurant. There are low standards at the restaurant, and the bosses are very easygoing. I don't "fit in" as much as i "fit" what they need right now. My roommates that work at SNR(Spare No Rib) with me, Steve and Elles, are about as fed up with me as they can be right now. I've broken Elles' trust and gotten weed out of his supply that did not belong to me. And right after doing this stupid thing (while blackout drunk), i ruined Steve's present for Elles right in front of him. So, i overstepped my bounds with one roommate/coworker, and betrayed the other. It feels like shit. I don't know if Steve will forgive me any time soon.

I sat down with everyone for a house-wide talk about general house things.
There are things i do that should only be allowed by those that live here and pay rent.
I do not pay rent, therefore should not have done these things.
I will begin paying rent on Jan. 1 and will ask Elliot for the correct amount.

It's therapeutic to see my words all spelled out and in order. I feel like after thinking or saying something, my thoughts are lost in the boiling atmosphere of where i am. Or who i'm speaking to. I don't have conversations anymore. Text convos are lost and aimless. I can't write fast enough on my phone and/or i get distracted from my phone before finishing any thought... there's nothing coming from me. I smoke and walk the dogs. That's it.

Now i'm just scrolling through facebook and instagram and reddit. i'm just looking at stuff. i'm sitting here looking at stuff instead of writing!
what did i see?
-if you set up a xmas tree, you took a picture of it and made a banal statement about how it's such a chore to upload the photo at this point in the Tree Setup
-the world is rioting against authority in every corner of the world. there are reasons people feel oppressed and it's because of the authority our police and government is given over our democratic voice
-boobs
-if i upload another selfie of myself, i'm going to give myself a black eye

and so that is what i've done in the past 5 minutes while having my laptop open.
there are still tabs open to elephant journal, wsj, and penny-arcade, but now i'm writing instead.

I am closing this, and am no longer writing alone

Let's Have A Bad Day

I come home and she wants to quit her job. I try to listen, and she stops talking. I try to extrapolate what's bothering her and she won't explain anything. I am insulted for having chosen the wrong things to say and feel like I'm wasting my time and then get called selfish for making this about me rather than her.

Forever Wishing To Be An Adult

The clients I work with appear to be hungry for things associated with adulthood. The gritty sex/crime of Law & Order SVU and the mysterious lush reward of social security checks. Staying up late and picturing themselves as successful, lazy consumers while demanding snacks and continually asking when they can go back to Walmart.

The succulent allure of every character they create within every magazine ad or tv commercial and the logical next step to happiness which is the flamboyant blooming item being sung into their subconscious. What protrudes is their impulsive tendency, and the hollow peg-hole that remains unseen behind this product-fuzed-with-joy is the empty sense of purpose and contribution that a successful adult also longs for.

Perhaps they are more aware of this gap of societal sloth. They consider their success as adults to be gauged in the count of joy. Thenumber of times they remember getting exactly what they wanted

it appears so simple that my inability to keep my attetion could correlate to an inability to acquire any career-worthy skill. what things are worth doing if theyre boring? my interests are not limited as my drive, and with an inspiring beauty in my life, it seems necessary to settle down in some sort of financial route of predictability as a prelude to marriage. i mean seriously that i intend to do whatever it takes to make my relationship with aleah work.

i don't have any god damn money

Listen to me, i don't have any money. Stop trying to sell me something new because the money needed to enjoy what you're enjoying is killing me. Killing me in the brain. I can't take another ad another concert another game another add-on another meal another insurance payment

i don't have. any. money.

i'm smoking a cigarette be cause it feels good
it feels like i'm accomplishing something when all i'm really doing is
BEING PISSED OFF FOR DRINKING A BEER AND WATCHING TV INSTEAD OF GETTING READY FOR WORK. NOW MY WORK CLOTHES ARE DRYING AND IT WILL BE TOO LATE FOR ME TO GET TO WORK ON TIME. I WILL ARRIVE AT WORK LATE, GET PAID LESS (time) AND STILL BE MISERABLE BECAUSE THE CHECK I GET AT THE BEGINNING OF NEXT WEEK WILL STILL NOT BE ENOUGH TO BRING ME TO ANY KIND OF COMFORT. i'm poor. and getting poorer.

Aleah told me to write this all down to maybe vent or rage in an appropriate environment, but now i'm drooling and every drop of spittle that lands on my hand or face is a slap of disappointment of failure of deceit. i am not happy. i cannot be happy

who could be happy knowing they just cooked the last meal of food in their house. all of those groceries are not mine! i dont have any FOOOD.

i'm all done
i'm finished.

HOW IS THIS OVER ALREADY

i'm back from kroea i'm no different than before i left and my experiences add up to a big BUCK DIDDLY. there are no jobs, i am not needed, i am not valued and i am not good at anythigngnbg gngbn


so fuck it. what's new

you've been good at nothing for so long you might as well be good at describing how poor a job you do at everything

no car insurance....SET UP!??!?!? YES. YES, IT IS A SETUP

i do not want to lie and i do not want to feel like it's ok when i know it isn't

drunk means pain
high means forgetful
cigarettes mean death

the smell of death is present now and i hate it even more than depression. i couldn't go outside today because it is so cold i think i'll fall over, and if i do i'll fall over and hurt myself and then i'll have to go to the hospital because the people that, for whatever reason love me, will want me to be healthy

That is stupid. They cannot change how i do this to myself over and over. I am the only one who can step out of this stupid tin can of anxiety. It's not stupid, but it doesn't make any sense and it makes me LOOK stupid, so ..it might as well be called stupid.

Stupid was my dad's word. He used to say something was stupid and just admonish it, despise it, hate it. He uses his logic to express how things can be better when all he really does is make himself look presumptuous and holier-than-thou.

That tasted horrible. what is supposed to happen when i get a cigarette finished? is there some nirvana that i'm supposed to be seeking as this drugged imbecile.? i can crack a thousand different ways of the way i look/dress/sound/speak but then i get into a situation where i have to actually prove to myself that i'm NOT A MORON then i get to the point of claustrophobia that inhibits my ability to even function. i'm screaming to myself. i'm enraged. i'm full of energy that can only be expressed in disgust or fury................what kind of energy is that

i could punch out a thousand words in the 7 minutes before i have to leave, which is still 15 minutes before my work clothes will be dried. does forgetting to put my clothes in the dryer mean that i'm some sort of failure? what does that mean at allll

i don't want another cigarette but i can't stand cleaning
picking up a plate from one room and tossing it in the trash could be an easy task if it weren't so fucking sad to watch food go to waste around my own house.

is there some formula that predicts what can happen to a person if their anxiety gets so bad they crash their car? i'm at that level. let's say 9/10 because i can still type. let's say 8/10 because i'm not pulling my hair out.

or let's go 10/10 because i am going to ruin my job situation, crash my car, and die in a ditch.

simple becomes hard, quiet becomes loud, and i've got to make myself feel worse before i decide it can feel better

this is out of my control...i'm not in control...i'm out of mind