Changes.
Most people hate 'em but they are what life is all about. Nothing ever stays the same.
My life is about to change drastically... Again.
My room mates, which consist of my best friend since junior high WAY back in 1990 until now, his wife, and their four young daughters are getting a new house. Yay for them. I need to find a place to live. Sadly, I'm broke, jobless, my car is broke down, and I'm all outta friends.
Time to pack up all my shit into storage and start over new. I suppose I should see it as an adventure. No where to go but up right? So I keep telling myself. Just me. I got some family but they are as broke as I, and I'm sick of asking for help and being resented for it. I can make my own way. I've done it before.
The few years I lived on Martha's Vineyard after high school, proving just that too myself. I had to know if I could just pick up from everything I knew and start over. Wanderlust. I've got it again.
At least I've got a bit more than a few vague goals now. Stay in college online, get my degree, become a teacher. That's the plan. Keep practicing guitar. Keep writing. Something's bound to break.
I always thought it was great reading fantasy books, where the hero wandered penniless on some grand quest or other, facing hardships and trails remaining chipper and optimistic the whole way. Sharing the last bit of his food with a stranger who always ended up being some one powerful in disguise. A king or a god, who would reward the hero greatly for his kindness and help him on his quest.
What's my quest? The same it's always been. To rescue the princess. What princess? Good question. I have no idea. I know there seems to be a never ending supply of damsels in distress in this world. Most are bound by their own craziness and the craziness of the world around them. Most secretly long for a hero, while telling everyone who will listen that they don't need one. The world's full of strong independent, screwed up ladies.
Me? I'm just that heroic guy that's so outta style. No one wants to be rescued anymore. The Anti-hero gets all the girls, abuses them in the various ways that girls can be abused, knocks them up, and then runs out on the responsibility. I won't say I told you so.
Such is life. So I just watch from afar, and think how lucky that jerk is who get's his cock sucked while treating the girl like some sort of life support system for a vagina, with the annoying habit of wanting to be treated like a human being. I'm not stupid, far from it. I know most women better than they know themselves. Come from years of living with a sister and mother with mental illness, talking to women candidly online all the time, and just being completely obsessed with the most beautiful of God's creations. The female.
They want the six pack, the big cock, the tattoos and piercings, the attitude, and the grab her by the hair sexual predator nature. So what if that usually mean's the guy's some vapid, one dimensional dick. Women want what makes their belly do fliip-flops, not what makes logical sense.
Like it or not, my life is interesting in that Grimm Fairytales sort of way. Always struggling against powerful odds just to get by, always pining for the girl.
I guess it's true what they say. Be careful what you wish for.
Most people hate 'em but they are what life is all about. Nothing ever stays the same.
My life is about to change drastically... Again.
My room mates, which consist of my best friend since junior high WAY back in 1990 until now, his wife, and their four young daughters are getting a new house. Yay for them. I need to find a place to live. Sadly, I'm broke, jobless, my car is broke down, and I'm all outta friends.
Time to pack up all my shit into storage and start over new. I suppose I should see it as an adventure. No where to go but up right? So I keep telling myself. Just me. I got some family but they are as broke as I, and I'm sick of asking for help and being resented for it. I can make my own way. I've done it before.
The few years I lived on Martha's Vineyard after high school, proving just that too myself. I had to know if I could just pick up from everything I knew and start over. Wanderlust. I've got it again.
At least I've got a bit more than a few vague goals now. Stay in college online, get my degree, become a teacher. That's the plan. Keep practicing guitar. Keep writing. Something's bound to break.
I always thought it was great reading fantasy books, where the hero wandered penniless on some grand quest or other, facing hardships and trails remaining chipper and optimistic the whole way. Sharing the last bit of his food with a stranger who always ended up being some one powerful in disguise. A king or a god, who would reward the hero greatly for his kindness and help him on his quest.
What's my quest? The same it's always been. To rescue the princess. What princess? Good question. I have no idea. I know there seems to be a never ending supply of damsels in distress in this world. Most are bound by their own craziness and the craziness of the world around them. Most secretly long for a hero, while telling everyone who will listen that they don't need one. The world's full of strong independent, screwed up ladies.
Me? I'm just that heroic guy that's so outta style. No one wants to be rescued anymore. The Anti-hero gets all the girls, abuses them in the various ways that girls can be abused, knocks them up, and then runs out on the responsibility. I won't say I told you so.
Such is life. So I just watch from afar, and think how lucky that jerk is who get's his cock sucked while treating the girl like some sort of life support system for a vagina, with the annoying habit of wanting to be treated like a human being. I'm not stupid, far from it. I know most women better than they know themselves. Come from years of living with a sister and mother with mental illness, talking to women candidly online all the time, and just being completely obsessed with the most beautiful of God's creations. The female.
They want the six pack, the big cock, the tattoos and piercings, the attitude, and the grab her by the hair sexual predator nature. So what if that usually mean's the guy's some vapid, one dimensional dick. Women want what makes their belly do fliip-flops, not what makes logical sense.
Like it or not, my life is interesting in that Grimm Fairytales sort of way. Always struggling against powerful odds just to get by, always pining for the girl.
I guess it's true what they say. Be careful what you wish for.