dannydmc

I am feeling much better today than I did yesterday. You see; quiting smoking is hard, dreadfully hard, and its made even harder when your cigarette substitute (cigars) which you payed 100 dollars for do not show up on time because they have been sitting for 5 days in Anchorage. Its enough to put even more stress and a rather stressed out individual.
So, upon realizing that my box wasn't here yet last night, I did what any young man would do; I went home and began to blare loud music. My song of choice was "Fuck the World" by the Vines. Now, is it a great song? No. But did it completely sum up my view of life on that day? Oh, yes. It summed it up so much that I wouldn't restrain myself any longer; I threw myself around my reading room, singing at the top of my lungs, and hollering out the offensive yet catharic chorus.
As the song ended, I suddenly heard a plaintive knocking on my front door. "Shit", I thought. I was sure that the entire village had heard me, and that a villager (or worse yet, a teacher) was at my door to make sure that I hadn't either been possessed, or broken every bone in my body. Embarrassed, I made my way to the door.
There, I found one of our middle school students standing at the door. "Oh shit", I thought once again. My vision of a concerned visitor was now replaced by an image of angry phone calls by parents wondering why I had accidently exposed their son to such profanity laced music.
"Finally", the student explaimed, as I opened the door! "I knew you were home because I heard the music, and you screaming". "Uggghhhh", I said, suddenly turning 5 shades of red.

The cigars came today, as well as my new comedy CD by Da Yoopers, and so I'm in a much better mood. The day ran smoothly and I'm feeling, if not at the top of the world, at least no longer like its rolling over and crushing me under its weight. Even better, I found a copy of Dune in the local library which I'd reading; its always been one of my favorite books, and I'd forgotten just how that I enjoyed it. The adventures of Paul Maud'dib have held a special place in my heart since me and my cousin Matt discovered them in High School; we bought and read the entire series, one after the other, and then would get together and discuss the books for hours on end. It was one of the first times that I got excited by the idea of literary analysis and, making it even more sweet, Matt and I discovered the notion entirely on our own. For the last two years of school, "Dune" became a special treasure shared between only us; we'd make references to the books in everyday language and no one, save my Father (a huge Science Fiction fan) and Matt's younger brother Tom had any clue as to what we were saying.
Speaking of my younger cousin Tom, who eventually became first my young charge and later the closest thing to a brother I've ever had in my life (Tom grew up in a very rough family and had a horrid time of school. I took him under my wing with the goal of making sure that he'd have a better time of it than I had.), he was telling me of a date he'd had recently. The kid has become a bit of a pimp at college, although damned if I know how as the following story will ilistrate.
He told me that things went really well and that he had the girl in question laughing uncontrollably due to his constant random subject changes, philosophical arguents based on Purplesaurus Rex Kool-Aid, and his impression of the Yooper/Wisconsin accent. It went so well that a second and third date have already been scheduled and he's feeling pretty confident.
"Wait a second", I said, perplexed, "Random subject changes? Yooper accent? You stole my fuckin routine! She didn't have a date with you! The poor girl had a date with ME and didn't even know it!"
"What can I say", Tom replied, "I assimulate what ever works. I am the Borg, resistance is futile! And, besides, the Kool-Aid thing was entirely my own".
How the hell is this kid so good with women? I mean, he's as big of a dork as I am! Maybe even more so, he has an encyclopedic knowledge of the Dukes of Hazzard (he ownes every season on DVD) and can tell you stats to backyard Football games played in the 1930's. He lives and breaths country life and sports in a way that, honestly, I'm quiet envious of. Especially as the entire "redneck" thing was a persona I put on at college too!
Actually I'm really proud of him (although a bit jelous as well, I suppose). As I said before, he's like a little brother to me, and we'd both do anything for one another. Although I do notice an odd tendency of his to view me less as a fountain of wisdom and more of as an equal; this destresses me! I wonder if this is how parents feel when they begin to see their children move off into the world and become independent? In all honesty I'm very proud of him, and tell him so when ever I see him, but its an odd feeling as well; part of you still wants to cling to that time when they looked up to you and thought you did no wrong *laughs*
Actually I've been finding that one of the hardest things about living out of Wisconsin lately has been that I really do miss him too. We talk over IM quiet a bit, but I miss hanging out with the guy, catching movies, sharing stories and the like. I think I'm suffering from empty nest syndome; and I'm only 24! Oh, cruel world; WHY!?

*note* My old profile pic (to be found in my pics) is actually of me and him at his High School graduation. I'd been having a rough summer, was unemployed and living away from him, but nearly broke myself making sure I'd be home for it. It really was one of the proudest days of my life. Yep; I've become a parent. GAH!