Well, I'll be 26 in 11 hours. I really can't say I'm excited about it. It's kinda another non-event for me.
Family and I are going to Trinity Hall (huge Irish pub in Dallas) for lunch. Tonight, I'm taking my cousin Sky to meet the owner of Spike (club I go to alot). I'm hoping the owner will give him a gig DJing.
Aside from this, I have no plans.
I intend to be at work on my birthday tomorrow, which gets odd reactions from some people *shrug*.
I'm thinking the best part of my birthday will happen on the fifth, when Misty gets back. It's all I really want, and I'm getting it, so I'm content.
Family and I are going to Trinity Hall (huge Irish pub in Dallas) for lunch. Tonight, I'm taking my cousin Sky to meet the owner of Spike (club I go to alot). I'm hoping the owner will give him a gig DJing.
Aside from this, I have no plans.
I intend to be at work on my birthday tomorrow, which gets odd reactions from some people *shrug*.
I'm thinking the best part of my birthday will happen on the fifth, when Misty gets back. It's all I really want, and I'm getting it, so I'm content.
Today has been odd...and not the good kind of odd. Some days, you can pinpoint what event or person sent your day spiraling off into weirdness.
This hasn't been one of those days.
I dunno what it was, but the whole day felt surreal.
I felt like standing at the edge of the driveway at work, right next to Hwy 121, and singing showtunes while relieving myself on passing cars.
I felt like making terroristic threats at fake plants.
I felt like curling up in the bucket of one of the bulldozers and taking a nap with a frilly pink blanky.
I felt like drinking hydraulic fluid.
I felt like giving kindergarteners a ride in the excavator's bucket.
...
Anyway, I did none of these things (should you be worried).
Now I'm going to go take a shower. Maybe some of this weird will rinse off...
But I doubt it.
This hasn't been one of those days.
I dunno what it was, but the whole day felt surreal.
I felt like standing at the edge of the driveway at work, right next to Hwy 121, and singing showtunes while relieving myself on passing cars.
I felt like making terroristic threats at fake plants.
I felt like curling up in the bucket of one of the bulldozers and taking a nap with a frilly pink blanky.
I felt like drinking hydraulic fluid.
I felt like giving kindergarteners a ride in the excavator's bucket.
...
Anyway, I did none of these things (should you be worried).
Now I'm going to go take a shower. Maybe some of this weird will rinse off...
But I doubt it.
Went to the library after work today and picked up "The Joshua Tree" by U2 and "Heart of Darkness" by Joseph Conrad (the book "Apocalypse Now" is based off of). So far it's a decent read. I really like Conrad's writing style.
Anyway, this isn't my reason for writing this blog. I'm trying to keep myself in an upbeat mood, but it seems everyone's out to either piss me off or make me break down into a jibbering mess.
First off, my photographer bailed on me. No call on the evening we had scheduled. No call since. It's been 24 hours since I last called him. I doubt I'll bother trying again. For those who know, you understand my annoyance. For those who don't, don't ask. You'll know when I'm ready to tell you. And frankly, I'm in no mood to discuss this, either.
The meat of this vent is what happened a little while ago. My mom started questioning whether Emma is mine. I don't know if I've brought this up before, but it's not the first time she's done that. She keeps pressing me to get a paternity test done, and I keep refusing.
Her reasoning goes like this:
What if she's not yours, and the father has some genetic issues (prone to a rare disease, etc...). It'd be good to know.
Just for clarification, I've never thought Emma wasn't mine. The thought never crossed my mind for a moment. What mom doesn't seem to understand is that, whoever is her father, genetically speaking, I'm Daddy. And honestly, it'd ultimately do more harm than good to all involved, regardless of the results.
Let's go hypothetical for a sec (if you've gone this far, bear with me. I'm almost done). Let's say I'm not her genetic father. Emma would eventually figure out why she has two daddies. She'd possibly wind up hating her mother for that (I know I didn't sign up for a sperm donor). She'd feel abandoned because her real father wanted nothing to do with her. I can't imagine what it'd do to Josh and my parents. I do know that things wouldn't ever be the same.
And I know it'd ruin me completely.
I'd still love my daughter to death, but there'd be that little bit in the back of my mind, despite my best efforts to block it out.
I tell her "This is not open for discussion. There will be no test. Period." and she persists. Even dad told her to quit being so pushy. But she doesn't listen. And dad's going with her on the idea, but in a less agressive manner.
He knows my answer, and he accepts it, though doesn't agree with it.
Ultimately, I'll have to get out of here soon. Aside from my kids, my only real happiness is two thousand miles away, and I won't see her again for a couple months.
On top of all this, I'll be 26 in exactly three weeks. This prospect does not exactly have me in a "balloons and presents" mood.
To all those wanting to know what I'm doing for my birthday, here's your answer:
I'm going to turn off my cellphone, leave the kids with my parents for the night, and go on a marathon bender. Alone. In a very dark and quiet bar. This is exactly what I want, and this is what I'll do. If anyone has a problem with that, change the fucking channel.
Ok, I'm done.
Anyway, this isn't my reason for writing this blog. I'm trying to keep myself in an upbeat mood, but it seems everyone's out to either piss me off or make me break down into a jibbering mess.
First off, my photographer bailed on me. No call on the evening we had scheduled. No call since. It's been 24 hours since I last called him. I doubt I'll bother trying again. For those who know, you understand my annoyance. For those who don't, don't ask. You'll know when I'm ready to tell you. And frankly, I'm in no mood to discuss this, either.
The meat of this vent is what happened a little while ago. My mom started questioning whether Emma is mine. I don't know if I've brought this up before, but it's not the first time she's done that. She keeps pressing me to get a paternity test done, and I keep refusing.
Her reasoning goes like this:
What if she's not yours, and the father has some genetic issues (prone to a rare disease, etc...). It'd be good to know.
Just for clarification, I've never thought Emma wasn't mine. The thought never crossed my mind for a moment. What mom doesn't seem to understand is that, whoever is her father, genetically speaking, I'm Daddy. And honestly, it'd ultimately do more harm than good to all involved, regardless of the results.
Let's go hypothetical for a sec (if you've gone this far, bear with me. I'm almost done). Let's say I'm not her genetic father. Emma would eventually figure out why she has two daddies. She'd possibly wind up hating her mother for that (I know I didn't sign up for a sperm donor). She'd feel abandoned because her real father wanted nothing to do with her. I can't imagine what it'd do to Josh and my parents. I do know that things wouldn't ever be the same.
And I know it'd ruin me completely.
I'd still love my daughter to death, but there'd be that little bit in the back of my mind, despite my best efforts to block it out.
I tell her "This is not open for discussion. There will be no test. Period." and she persists. Even dad told her to quit being so pushy. But she doesn't listen. And dad's going with her on the idea, but in a less agressive manner.
He knows my answer, and he accepts it, though doesn't agree with it.
Ultimately, I'll have to get out of here soon. Aside from my kids, my only real happiness is two thousand miles away, and I won't see her again for a couple months.
On top of all this, I'll be 26 in exactly three weeks. This prospect does not exactly have me in a "balloons and presents" mood.
To all those wanting to know what I'm doing for my birthday, here's your answer:
I'm going to turn off my cellphone, leave the kids with my parents for the night, and go on a marathon bender. Alone. In a very dark and quiet bar. This is exactly what I want, and this is what I'll do. If anyone has a problem with that, change the fucking channel.
Ok, I'm done.
In case you're wondering, that's a set of lopping shears (used to lop off tree limbs) sitting on the back of a toilet.
Seeing this at work was probably one of the more disconcerting occurrences of the year, especially since I was fully three sheets from all the diesel fumes I'd been breathing.
While we're on the subject of gardening implements and public bathrooms, I'd like to mention that I will (hopefully) be shooting my SB set this weekend. I'll post an update if/when it gets uploaded.
Got the new shifter installed today. It was suprisingly easy. The hardest part wound up being the little plastic plug that covers the screw in the backseat drink holder. My only real complaint is that the shifter seems a lot stiffer. Maybe that's the shortened throw. *Shrug*
Anyway, here are a few pics:
Original:
New:
Oh, and here's the photos of the intake:
Front of car:
Driver's side:
Filter (from underneath, just ahead of the front driver's side tire):
Anyway, here are a few pics:
Original:
New:
Oh, and here's the photos of the intake:
Front of car:
Driver's side:
Filter (from underneath, just ahead of the front driver's side tire):
So it's been a couple weeks since I updated.
*Shrug*
Anyway, I've been mulling over the idea of doing an SB (SuicideBoys) set for some time now, but I've had two stumbling blocks thus far:
1) Set theme
2) Photographer
I think I've figured #1 out, and no, I won't tell anyone until it's done and posted. No, Misty, not even you.
As for #2, I'm more concerned with a photographer who'll do a decent job, but not charge me both arms and my left nut.
Anyway, I emailed a potential photog to see if he's still interested. If anyone knows someone who'd do the shoot (and not make it look like a badly shot snuff porn) then send him/her my way. I'm NOT going to shoot this shit myself.
*Shrug*
Anyway, I've been mulling over the idea of doing an SB (SuicideBoys) set for some time now, but I've had two stumbling blocks thus far:
1) Set theme
2) Photographer
I think I've figured #1 out, and no, I won't tell anyone until it's done and posted. No, Misty, not even you.
As for #2, I'm more concerned with a photographer who'll do a decent job, but not charge me both arms and my left nut.
Anyway, I emailed a potential photog to see if he's still interested. If anyone knows someone who'd do the shoot (and not make it look like a badly shot snuff porn) then send him/her my way. I'm NOT going to shoot this shit myself.
