I must have killed and eaten babies in a prior life...and my karma just caught up with me this fucking week!
Tonight I went and hung out in Burbank with some peeps...which sarted out GREAT. I met this girl named Diedra... hit it off...got the digits...which I guess is cool, until the end of the night when someone says, "yeah...Diedra has a girlfriend."
I'm not sure if that's good or bad or great...or why the hell she gave me her number...but whatever... As far as women go I'm swinging and missing like a fucking 5 year old t-ball player these days...all fucking spastic and shit... arms, legs, spit and ass all over the place.
It's been ugly.
We all started drinking pretty hard. This guy Richard started making everyone shotgun beers like we were at some frat party. I started pushing shots of Jack Daniels. Everthing was cool until I turned from drinking instigator to designated driver. I suppose it's my own fucking fault. I figure people can handle a little booze. Apparantly not. I had to take care of two drunk asses who decided they needed to puke all over my friends apartment. One of them never made it out to the bars (the last time I saw him, he was sitting in the hallway next to the bathroom door, rocking back and forth, and humming some nursery rhyme) and the other ended up making lewd gestures to women across the bar. We got him out of the general public... let him puke his guts out and I drove them all the way back to Whittier to where my car was, and they took off the two blocks to their house.
I got in my car. Drove a block...and ran out of FUCKING gas.
FUUUUUCK.
So I start walking.
and walking.
and walking.
3 miles later I finally stumble across a gas station...where I have to fork over $14.00 dollars for a gas can. I call for a cab...but they won't service the area and the bitch on the line hangs up on me. So I haul my ass the 3 miles back to my car...blisters now forming on my feet.
It's about 4a.m. I get to the block before the car...and a dog comes tearing out after me. Not a small cute dog...(although those can be crazy too) but a big, mean, mad dog complete with snarls and fangs and foamy dog spit. In an utterly useless attempt to get away from the fucker, I spill gas all over myself. I did'nt get bit thank god...but I smell like a trucker now.
I'm home. I'm running on like 10 hours of sleep for the whole week. I'm tired. I'm lonely. I'm fucking burnt.
I feel like puking and crying myself to sleep.
Someone hold me...
or stab me in the fucking throat.
Or both.
_________________________
Good morning...just a random thought as I lay here.
You know what...between the stresses of life that come down on us...I guess we all have our moments when being perfect is'nt really in the cards...and we just have to settle for being human and doing stupid shit we don't really understand at the time. And you have to be OK with that.
I've been really pissed at myself for not being able to pull shit together lately... I put all kinds of self imposed pressure on myself to make my life into something...instead of just letting different things come together.
When you try to juggle college, work, finances, moving, friends, a sick father, working on your shitty relationship with father, crazy friends with guns, trying to find someone special, my addiction to this silly website...and keeping a floundering business afloat, you're bound to end up applying too much pressure somewhere...and watching that thing crack like an egg. Sometimes you just have to accept that you fucked up and move forward having learned a little more about life...and how trying to MAKE things happen instead of LETTING them happen...is just an excercise in futilty.
I mean why invest yourself so completely in something that you have no control over? You'll just end up disappointed over expectations that have nothing to do with the here and now. Somehow, you'd think I'd have learned this lesson by now.
I guess I just did.
It's been a crazy and generally shitty week...but, as always, I'm looking forward to tomorrow.
~Peace
Tonight I went and hung out in Burbank with some peeps...which sarted out GREAT. I met this girl named Diedra... hit it off...got the digits...which I guess is cool, until the end of the night when someone says, "yeah...Diedra has a girlfriend."
I'm not sure if that's good or bad or great...or why the hell she gave me her number...but whatever... As far as women go I'm swinging and missing like a fucking 5 year old t-ball player these days...all fucking spastic and shit... arms, legs, spit and ass all over the place.
It's been ugly.
We all started drinking pretty hard. This guy Richard started making everyone shotgun beers like we were at some frat party. I started pushing shots of Jack Daniels. Everthing was cool until I turned from drinking instigator to designated driver. I suppose it's my own fucking fault. I figure people can handle a little booze. Apparantly not. I had to take care of two drunk asses who decided they needed to puke all over my friends apartment. One of them never made it out to the bars (the last time I saw him, he was sitting in the hallway next to the bathroom door, rocking back and forth, and humming some nursery rhyme) and the other ended up making lewd gestures to women across the bar. We got him out of the general public... let him puke his guts out and I drove them all the way back to Whittier to where my car was, and they took off the two blocks to their house.
I got in my car. Drove a block...and ran out of FUCKING gas.
FUUUUUCK.
So I start walking.
and walking.
and walking.
3 miles later I finally stumble across a gas station...where I have to fork over $14.00 dollars for a gas can. I call for a cab...but they won't service the area and the bitch on the line hangs up on me. So I haul my ass the 3 miles back to my car...blisters now forming on my feet.
It's about 4a.m. I get to the block before the car...and a dog comes tearing out after me. Not a small cute dog...(although those can be crazy too) but a big, mean, mad dog complete with snarls and fangs and foamy dog spit. In an utterly useless attempt to get away from the fucker, I spill gas all over myself. I did'nt get bit thank god...but I smell like a trucker now.
I'm home. I'm running on like 10 hours of sleep for the whole week. I'm tired. I'm lonely. I'm fucking burnt.
I feel like puking and crying myself to sleep.
Someone hold me...
or stab me in the fucking throat.
Or both.
_________________________
Good morning...just a random thought as I lay here.
You know what...between the stresses of life that come down on us...I guess we all have our moments when being perfect is'nt really in the cards...and we just have to settle for being human and doing stupid shit we don't really understand at the time. And you have to be OK with that.
I've been really pissed at myself for not being able to pull shit together lately... I put all kinds of self imposed pressure on myself to make my life into something...instead of just letting different things come together.
When you try to juggle college, work, finances, moving, friends, a sick father, working on your shitty relationship with father, crazy friends with guns, trying to find someone special, my addiction to this silly website...and keeping a floundering business afloat, you're bound to end up applying too much pressure somewhere...and watching that thing crack like an egg. Sometimes you just have to accept that you fucked up and move forward having learned a little more about life...and how trying to MAKE things happen instead of LETTING them happen...is just an excercise in futilty.
I mean why invest yourself so completely in something that you have no control over? You'll just end up disappointed over expectations that have nothing to do with the here and now. Somehow, you'd think I'd have learned this lesson by now.
I guess I just did.
It's been a crazy and generally shitty week...but, as always, I'm looking forward to tomorrow.
~Peace
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
And dammit, I told you to enjoy the waffles!!!
As far as bad news goes, you've got to just roll with the punches because there is always something good in everything, but I don't need to tell you that, obviously you've already got it. I'm glad to see you felt better after getting some sleep.