Year and a Day.

Where the did the year go? It sure as Hell was a fast one! A year ago, I was getting ready for a road trip to Miami, Florida to move my Tyger to her new home. Lo and behold, she has been a Florida resident for a year now. Incidentally, that trip to South Beach was the last time I've been on a beach. I didn't go to the beach in 2010. Not once! (Not that I give a fuck. I'm not a beach person but still...) I'm just saying, I can't believe the year is gone. I really didn't do much this year. Had fun. Lot's of parties, sure. New friends were met. Awesome! (Thanks Daisy for taking me to my first Devil's game at the Rock! I had a blast!) All of those things were great but I don't feel as if I've accomplished anything.

I did start working out midsummer. I had forgotten how much fun that could be. I took a break from it right around Thanksgiving though and haven't been back since. No gyms. No runs on the Boulevard, even. Luckily for me, I believe it's never too late to start anew and even more fortunate for me, I have found a grimy, low costing gym near my my home. (I F'N love those!) I should be able to start working out as early as tomorrow.

One thing that did surprise me this year was the inadvertent outbreak of baby fever everyone (including myself) came down with. I got it early around my birthday when I found out that my long thought diminished chances for having a kid of my own were gravely miscalculated. Add to that, seeing my cousin's kid, Shawn, having another cousin tell me he's expecting his second kid and my bro and his wife having their first born (LOVE YOU RY-RY!) and it's easy to see why, um, "spreading my seed" has become such an important goal in my life. (JESUS! DID I USE THE WORD "GOAL?")

I don't know what lies ahead for me in 2011 but I can honestly say that I'm a bit optimistic. I can actually succeed if I can just stay focused.

The Long and The Short of It.

I'd say that I've been emotionally unstable these past couple of days but I'm always emotionally unstable. In fact, emotional stability has never been my strong suit. Just having to deal with things makes me realize how much I avoid emotional stress entirely. I'm out of practice and let it get to a manic point in my head. I hate it. I hate it because it breeds hate. It makes hate fester and simmer within me to my breaking point if I don't get it under control.

I was going to get into why when I started this blog but fuck it! It's enough for the reader of this blog to know that I'm hostile, volitile; forgive me for what I may say in the near future and tread lightly around me. I'm feeling exceptionally homicidal today.

Maybe. Maybe if I can calm down, I'll explain how I got here emotionally but don't hold you're breath.

Conception

I have a great idea for a story. I've had it for quite sometime but it all just started to piece itself together last night for some reason. I've been brainstorming and recording random ideas on my voice recorder for a few weeks now so I feel like I've got the necessary tools to write an outline and a rough draft of the first three chapters or so. What's more...it's not the original story I started to write and it's not the short story (The Believer) that I started writing two months ago either. In fact, when you look at it from a different perspective, it's an entirely new storyline I've somehow managed to conceive. I don't know where it came from but I'm gonna ride it out. Sometimes you have to go where you're creativity takes you. So, that being said, I'm well on my way to writing something that, well, something that I think I'm truly going to enjoy. I'm going to create my very own universe. I'm SO in love with that idea!

The biggest roadblock I have in front of me now is simply fatigue. It's difficult to write at work. It's even a bigger challenge to write afterwards when I'm dead to the world and by the time I wake up, I lose that vital train of thought; I lose my creative path, so to speak. I guess I just have to find a proper rhythm to the writing and I'll be fine.

I really want to get this done though! So often, I start a project and never finish. I get hit with a burst of inspiration and then, half way through the "putting the ideas to paper" process, I get distracted and stray from the path so much that I lose sight of what I was trying to create. This time, I have something that seems beautiful to me and I want to share it with the world. I hope to God I can keep focused.

However, it probably doesn't help matters much that I'm gonna go to the movies after this to watch Tron: Legacy and then take a long ass nap right after, does it?

The More Things Change...

I hate that I haven't had time to catch up on my blogs. Both mine and the ones I follow. Lord knows how much juicy and extremely entertaining tidbits I must've missed out on by now. Truth is, I love reading other's blogs because I live vicariously through them. While that isn't a problem, (or shouldn't be anyway), it does become a bit odd when that's all one does. Living vicariously through another's eyes is perfectly fine so long as one has a life of their own to live. If not, if you're just racing home after work to read what others have done, you need to get out more.

That being said, I've been neglecting my blogging because I've been getting out more. You know what? I'm almost regretting it. (Almost, but not quite.) I had forgotten why I'd turned into a recluse and hermit for a few years until I walked into my old stomping grounds a while back. Fucking drama! Drama, drama, drama! Left and right! Up and down. I had forgotten that interacting with others can sometimes spark a real life reality show to spring up from out of nowhere.

Hanging out at The Wild Rover Pub, I'm already allegedly fucking my brand new BFF Daisy*, am a gossip and spreading rumors, caused someone to lose their friend (I really don't get that one because the only way I lose my friends is the old fashioned way--Death!) and God knows what other hate is aimed my way. It's enough that I can sense it sometimes but I get it so often that it's almost second nature to me to feel hated when I walk into a room. (So why do I continue going there, you ask? Keep reading.) Regardless of that, you can't have everyone like you and, more importantly, the Rover is holy ground to me. (And I guess deep down inside, I really do love drama.) I missed my old stomping grounds. It's just like I left it.

I hate that part of living life but I don't care. Scratch that! I don't hate that part of living life so much as damage I cause. But fuck it! I have to get out and be a part of the world again. I feel like I've been couped up and hidden away in an attic somewhere. Time to stretch my legs; time to get back to what I'm good at. Chaos! LOL! I laugh but I'm being serious too. I destroy the things I touch and/or come in contact with. To quote one of my favorite comic book superheroes:

"I'm the best there is at what I do. But what I do isn't very nice."

If you see me on the street, you may want to cross to other side. Especially if it looks like I'm enjoying myself.

The Other Side of the Coin.

Having worked the graveyard shift for the better part of an Olympic year, I know a thing or two about the nighttime. As a matter of fact, it's safe to say that I know somethings you don't know.

I know that the park bench where you sit at in the daytime is someone's bed come midnight; That alleyway you cut across is someone's home. The parks themselves become hiding places for those that don't wish their actions being shown in the light of day and conceal even more secrets at night. Playgrounds become bedrooms for young hands and lips longing to explore nubile bodies or are merely the staging area for drinking, drug use and revelry before actual bedrooms are used.

Hills you would think to be deserted as skateboarders slake their thrill issues on most of them under the cover of darkness and backyards and seemingly empty warehouses become impromptu rings or cages for those seeking blood for their respective fight clubs and with muggers, rapists and killers all using the night as their own personal cloak of invisibility, the Angel of Death is seldom too far away.

How the night obscures these things from view. How the night conceals these things from you. Pray you do not stray to far from the light.

The Definition of No.

Perhaps I'm too accommodating to people and don't know it. Maybe I'm too eager to please. That's probably the reason why I don't say the word "No" often enough. While I detest using it, it is a necessary word. I mean, you can't please everyone all of the time. Sometimes, you have to be a little bit selfish; sometimes you have to put yourself first.

I... am SO not there yet! Every time I'm asked to do something, I jump on it like a snot-nosed private that just received orders directly from his commanding officer. Granted, while I don't see anything wrong with that, I do tend to stretch myself beyond my means at times to indulge other people's needs, as it were. Last night, I ended up using my entire hour break from work going to stores open 24 hours to find a big bag of cotton balls for one of my Goddaughter's science projects for school. (OK. I'll go to the ends of the world for anything she needs but still...I did so because my sister, her mother, asked me.) Speaking of my sister, I'd be finishing Chapter 2 of The Believer [BTW, in case you're interested http://nevermoreraven13.xanga.com/ ] and posting it right now had I not left my laptop at home for her to use. Very unselfish of me, I think, but I could've just as easily have said "No. I need it tonight." That would've been the end of it and it would've been the truth. (And before you ask, I know I could've easily copied the story onto my flash drive and taken it to work with me but I don't trust the computers at work, OK?) Yet still, I caved and with a smile on my face.

A couple of days ago, I invited a friend of mine out to breakfast because I know her to be a night owl like myself and I know for a fact that she's always up early and hungry. So, I took her to breakfast and then, since she asked, I chauffeured her around because she needed to make a few stops. Didn't even hesitate to offer myself up or anything.

As for my next two days off, tonight is my night. I pretty much have nothing to do after work except enjoy my day off and, while the same can be said for Wednesday night, I've already told two friends that I'd hang with them. It's no biggie for me, really. When stuff like that happens, I just put everyone in the same room together so I can hang out with all of my friends at once. Still, the point I'm trying to make is that I could've just as easily cancelled on one and hung out with the other. Actually, to be completely honest, Wednesday November 11th is the U.S. Marine Corps' birthday. As a tradition, I usually go out and get shit-faced either alone or with any of my fellow Devil Dogs that I can find. Nevertheless, I put tradition aside so as to convenience others.

I'm not saying it's a burden. It doesn't bother me at all. I love having friends that miss my company. I love having family that depends on me. I love being the Go-To guy! However, looking back on my life, I can't help but realize that while I've been very unselfish, at times, I've hindered my own progress, dreams, goals, etc., and as commendable as that might look to the naked eye, on paper, that's not such a good look at all. I always find that amusing though because, all my life, my religious teachings have always told me to give of myself to the fullest. That has always been confusing because Jesus would give you the shirt off of his back and He's loving and caring but when I do it, I'm stupid! (UGH!)

A long time ago, I was asked by a, um...professional, to describe myself in four words or less. He told me not to think about it but to just say the first words that popped into my head. My reply was simply:

I AM YOUR SERVANT.

I don't know why I said that. Those words just came out and, the really strange thing is, I believed in them. As a matter of fact, I still do. Helping or serving others is the single greatest joy I get out of life. That's why I hate it when people tell me that I have to look out for myself first sometimes. I hate it because, while I know they have a point, it goes against my nature and Lord knows that you can't fight who you truly are. At least not for long.

I don't know if I have it in me to be self-centered and self-indulgent and I don't care to find out. I like the way I am but I do have to figure out how to start accomplishing goals a little better, a little faster and with a lot more frequency. Going to the gym tomorrow (ironically, because someone asked and I didn't say "no") to see if I can get back on that horse. I was doing great until 4 weeks ago and then, well...I guess I said "NO" to myself, didn't I? Perhaps I don't need to look up the definition of "No" like I thought I did. Maybe, I just have to start saying "Yes" more towards the things that I like.

The Things I Keep.

Why do I love the rain so, I wonder? Does that make me weird? Or should I say, does that make me weirder than most weird people? My friends don't seem to think so. Then again, maybe they have simply grown accustomed to my odd behavior. The latter is a definite possibility. As for my newer friends, they don't seem to mind my weirdness either. Personally, I just chalk it up as a character flaw that people seem to find charming and endearing.

I love my friends. I love them so much that I think I'd love them even if I hated them. (I know that might not make sense now but read that again in a minute or two. Trust me. It will.) My latest new friend is Shannon. I swear, there's something about her that reminds me of me. She's a dreamer; has a big heart that shines right through. Cool peoples all around. She in turn is best friends with my Polish brother from another mother, Artie. I met them both at The Wild Rover Pub in Guttenberg. Through whom, you ask? Well, I was introduced by none other than my cousin Aramis (Junior), who's always been the closest I've had to a little brother. I can talk to him about anything and he's always got my back.

Speaking of having my back, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention my big brother Eric. He, who, surprisingly married before me and is expecting his first born next month. He, in turn, is married to BB. One of my most loving and, by far, one of the most generous people I've ever met. She'd buy you a small country if you put it on your Christmas wish list. She also has a great ear so she's always been a great listener. I'm SO glad those two got together.

Oh! And while we're on the subject of great listeners, how could I leave out my favorite beach buddies? Bubbles and Tyger. God! If those two even hear waves crashing on the shore, they take off in a dead run! Seriously! I've actually witnessed that. Incidentally, I didn't see the beach, not even once, this summer because the two of them weren't around. Moreover, I love them both because they constantly remind me not to stray to far away from the light as I am normally inclined to do. It's very difficult to be depressed around those two especially if they're together.

Why am I getting so mushy, you ask? Why so sentimental? Why think on old and new friends? No reason. This isn't a suicide note. (Quite frankly, I don't believe in suicide but even if I did, the goodbye letter would be about 500 pages long.) It's just something I've been thinking about after having a conversation with my cute little blondie, Bubbles. It's something she said when I made it a point that we should hang out more. (I may have made that point whilst being a bit too much attitude.) She quelled my annoyance with the quaint little observation that we never hung out that often in the first place before she got with her man. It was a simple little sentence but it made me think about the rest of my friends.

I rarely see any of them as much as I would've a decade or two ago. I wrote if off as being an adult and being busy and stuff of that nature but the truth is, with my conflicting work schedule and everyone else's responsibilities, it's hard to see them. It's very difficult to hang out. Moreover, we don't all have the same tastes in hang out spots even if we did when we first met. As for my other best friend, she doesn't even live in the great state of New Jersey anymore (miss you, Tyger!) so we only catch up on IM's, text and emails but we can't hang out that way.

Lately, I've been working on my minimalist movement, of sorts. It's something I mentioned in a previous blog about getting rid of things you don't need or don't use. I was thinking about applying that same mentality to my friends list. Not my Facebook list. My actual list of friends. However, that only lasted for a split second. Friends are the one thing in my life that will always remain constant. Furthermore, I rarely ever try to make new friends because I have all that I need with the ones I have now. Nevertheless, I always manage to find a way to make new acquaintances and once that happens, I find it difficult to ever let them go from my heart or memory. In all seriousness, I find it difficult to let go of friends I haven't talked to in awhile or don't keep in contact with. To this day, I wonder how Taz and Lucci are doing. I rarely ever talk to either of them but I worry about my Marine brethren to this day.

No. I can't downsize my actual friend list. Once you're in my thoughts and in my heart and soul, you're there for good; you're there to stay for as long as my heart keeps beating and then some. I keep the friends I make. If for nothing else, I guess it's just another character flaw. Perhaps the people that I meet can sense that about me. Maybe that's why they stay.

Reading this blog again, I've realized that I've left out countless other people. Moreover, them being the friends they are will probably wonder why I left them out of this mentioning of friends on a blog that, odds are, no one ever reads. Some may even make a big deal about it and that's cool. If I make friends that worry about me not mentioning them then I must be doing something right. If nothing else, that lets me know that I have good taste in friends because any friend of mine that is proud to say they know me is worth keeping.

The Veil and The Dream

"Did you know that the veil between this world and the next is the thinniest around this time of year?"

I remember that question being posed to me by one of the kookiest people I had probably ever met (up until that point, anyway). She was a witch (or Wiccan, for you politically correct assholes who have nothing better to do than to correct my politically incorrect ass!) or so she told me. She then corrected herself and said she was merely a nature worshipper but loves seeing people's reactions when she says that she's into witchcraft. Needless to say, she didn't even make me flinch. However, I did think that her initial query to me was a bit strange.


I don't think it so strange a question anymore.


I haven't had anything spiritual happen to me in a long time. I may have felt, what the faithful might call, "God's presence" but I haven't felt the piety I used to feel as a child in quite some time now. Not until tonight, anyway. Tonight, that presence was almost...well, for lack of a better word...SPOOKY!

I woke up from what may very well have been the most vivid dream I've ever had. It involved a friend. One I only knew for a brief amount of time, before the Good Lord saw fit to take her from this world, but a friend nonetheless. And sure enough, there she was, plain as day, giving me advice without saying a word. It was one of those dreams where I knew what was happening without the need for words to be spoken. (By the way, if anyone wants to know the dream, all you have to do is ask. I'd get into it now but it would need it's own blog to be told properly.)

When I awoke to my alarm clock, I jumped out of bed with vigor and energy. I got ready for work and headed out the door confident and alert but I didn't know why. It wasn't until I was driving to work listening to Stairway to Heaven by Led Zeppelin that it all came back and hit me a proverbial ton of bricks. (Zeppelin can do that, you know!) I almost had to pull of the road to compsoe myself. I managed to pull myself together and get to work.

Here I am, still at work; it's hours after the realization of that dream and after telling Tyger about it and I'm still freaked out about it. (Incidentally, she was just as wigged out as I was!)I mean, dreams are one thing but this one was too vivid and had too much of a message to just be a dream. This was more a communication. What if it's true? What if the so called "Veil" is weakest at this time of year? Could that have been a long distance call from "the great beyond" or whatever it's called? I haven't put too much faith in the supernatural in a long time even though I'm superstitious and a big fan of that type of thinking. I don't know why but I haven't really put too much faith in anything lately. I guess that's why the dream occurred yesterday of all days.

Not only was it Halloween, it was the first time in a long time that I went to church; it was the first time that I actually prayed.

I'm not gonna sit here and tell you to "repent your sins" and that "The End is Nigh!" or anything like that. However, I am gonna tell you...there is a power in believing and scary as it is, I'm gonna explore it a little more. As for the dream, I think it was advice. It may very well have been a message. I mean, when you're dreaming you're in a car race and then a friend, who has already "crossed over" and whom you've never, EVER dreamed about after her death, tells you to take a chance and try to beat a train that's coming full steam on the tracks or to make a ramp jump over a cliff in the car ala Dukes of Hazzard, it's gotta mean something! Apparently, I have to start taking bigger chances.

I read you loud and clear, Jesse! Tell Jesus I send my love and don't beat Him too badly in chess. Let Him win a few.

Maximizing My Inner Minimalist

So one of the newest fads, for lack of a better term, is being a minimalist; living with the least amount of things and getting rid of objects that you already own that you don't need. In this day and age of everything costing way too much, that sort of living can probably save the practitioner of that lifestyle a lot of money. Getting rid of things you don't need and not purchasing unnecessary items in the future is a very liberating concept. Imagine being able to walk down the street with money in your pocket and not being tempted to by a new pair of CK jeans or cologne. You already have a good pair of sneakers so you don't need to buy a new pair of kicks with the name of a professional basketball player on it; not needing to get a new iPhone or Droid because the phone you have is all you need. It would be a liberating feeling to know that, by living a minimalist lifestyle, you can discover a lot about yourself because you can actually see that you need very little to survive. Furthermore, there's also a philosophical aspect to consider. When it comes to emotional baggage, one could do well by being a minimalist in that area of their lives as well.

While it's a novel concept to most and one I'm seriously considering implementing and studying more about, I can't help but chuckle. It's comical to me simply because, as I look back on my life, I've been a minimalist for as long as I can remember. It was purely unintentional but I've always been that way. Hell! My mom raised me that way. We were poor so it came easy because, well, everything was minimal.

I don't think I've ever bought or owned a TV and if I did have one in my possession, it was a gift or hand-me-down type item. I've bought radios and CD players but I've kept them small so that I can travel with them. Speaking of traveling, I've always done so light because I don't own that much in the way of clothes and apparel. Usually one suitcase or duffel bag is all I need to move all of my belongings from one place to another. Hell! I don't even own a car anymore nor do I plan to ever own one lest I win the lottery. Then I'm buying Shelby Mustang I've always wanted, but I digress.

I'm reminded of the movie Fight Club. Two quotes in particular come to mind.

"The things you own end up owning you."

...and...

"It's only after you lose everything that you're free to do
anything."

Makes sense, doesn't it? If it doesn't, that's OK. Choosing to live this way, in the way in which I've read about that people have chosen, is still a little weird to me. I mean, as much as I can say I don't own much, I also don't save money the way a minimalist should and I'm not ashamed of that. Everyone has their vices. Still, to really adopt that lifestyle, I have to start living a little more frugally. I guess I can cut back on the beer and alcohol. I'm trying to better my life by minimizing anyway. I guess I should minimize my alcohol and tobacco consumption. Well, I'll try to at the very least.

I'm going to go to my storage unit today and start seeing what it is that I can live without. If I don't need it, it goes. Moreover, I'm going to include in that list all of the old letters and pictures I've kept from past lovers. I don't need to be haunted by ghosts of the past anymore. Starting today, I minimalize my emotional baggage and, I will shorten my long lists of regrets. God-willing, maybe one day I can get rid of that list once and for all.

Unspoken For.

I'm trying to figure out if I want a girlfriend or not. It may not sound like a difficult question but it is for me. I miss the intimacy, sure. I am quite lonely; that's a given. Nevertheless, am I ready for a full-blown, legitimate, honest to goodness, committed to one person relationship? I don't know. I'm feeling torn and very confused. (And for those of you reading this that are already calling me a dog, FUCK OFF! I'm being honest! Last I checked, women want that quality in a man.)

I always thought that I could be a bachelor for the rest of my life and just enjoy a woman's company when it suited me. However, I'm set in my ways. After awhile, I expect certain things out of a woman and the Good Lord knows no one woman is like another. Each one far too unique to be mistaken for another. That being said, what the fuck happened to blowjobs?! Seriously! Is there like a BJ boycott or something I'm not aware of? If there is, it sucks and, ironically, it's the only thing that does! (That pun was very much intended!) In a weird way, I'm kind of happy that women aren't throwing that out there all the time. That just helps me discern how deep I'm getting into the relationship. (If there is one forming, that is.) Basically, I take the blowjob as the high sign that the chick is digging me but I digress. I think I've stayed off topic long enough.

To girlfriend or not to girlfriend? That is the question and while I want to, I'm a bit apprehensive. The truth of the matter is, even though I've matured a lot since my last relationship, I know I have the potential to fuck a relationship up as if I had a PhD in fucking up relationships. I start off strong and then I somehow manage to screw up a good thing. (Seriously! I've been doing it since the Corps days.) Still, I won't lie. The only reason I'm writing this blog entry is because I have an interest in someone. Perhaps I just answered my own question.

Hangover Heaven

This has been, by far, one of the most entertaining weekends of my life. So much so, in fact, that I have to put it in the Top 10 All-Time Best Time list. Actually, it started way prior to Friday.

I've been in and out of more bars than I can remember and, for some reason, I feel a rejuvenation in my game. Well, maybe not my game because I really don't have much of it anymore but I am actually excited about dating, flirting, etc., a little more lately. That might not seem like a big deal to anyone reading this but it is. For a long time, I was out of it. I didn't see myself with anyone. Still don't but I'm hopeful. That whole incident with me almost becoming a father really put things in perspective.

So there was a make out session last week with someone I really didn't think would be down for it. It was nice. Great, even! I hadn't done the "making out on the couch" thing in a long time. I felt like I was in high school and was making out at a girl's house whilst her parents were out. Sounds corny, I know but it's the little things that go miles and miles with me.


Then the flirting everywhere else...bars, bus stops, bookstores...has been a little out of control and overwhelming by my previously recent standards. I don't know what it is that's gotten into me but I'm riding out this wave for as long as I have it in me to do so.

Oh! And strippers help boost that surge inside me (And YES! I know it's really stupid to think they're after anything but money but I have a wonderful imagination!)

But anyway, I'm trying to calm down. I've drinking everyday for the the past five days; the culminaton coming on Saturday with the mother of all bachelor parties! (Hence the strippers. Stay focused!) I still have two more days off of work so I'm gonna enjoy them in the same fashion even though my funds are beginning to diminish. Hell! I'm writing this blog from BLVD Bar & Grill in Elmwood Park. Got a pint of Yuengling and a shot of Jack Daniels next to me. (I'm nursing the shit out of them but I'm still drinking! So much for "trying to calm down," huh?) Actually, I have to go to another bar to meet up with friends but I can't pry myself from this barstool because, if there's one thing I love better than anything, it's people-watching.

The person I'm watching at the moment is some cat named Freebird (I shit you not! That's his name.) I think he's homeless because I never see him with a beer in front of him and he's always eating people's leftovers but he's a gas to watch. Apparently, he likes jamming to the music on the juke. Right now, he's jamming to (Wait for it!) FREEBIRD! Homeless, in a bar, eating leftovers and jamming to Freebird. I don't know why, but I'm kinda jealous of him! LOL! (No, seriously! I am.)

This whole blog is an exercise in chaos! I know this. However, that's what happens when I'm in super hangover mode. My mind is pure chaos at the moment. I can't make sense of anything nor do I intend to. To quote one of my favorite movie phrases: I'm an agent of chaos!

20/20 Hindsight

I don't know who I was kidding with that last blog. Although I can't stop thinking about the girl and what my baby would've looked like, deep down, I was relieved that I wasn't going to be a father. As much as it pains me, I have to admit that. I mean, seriously, who am I kidding?! I'm still raising myself! Moreover, I'm doing a piss poor job of that. I'm not saving for the future. I'm still living paycheck to paycheck. I have no ambitions. No goals. I'm not even too sure what makes me happy anymore or if I truly ever knew.

So no more brooding. We move on. We push forward. We do all the optimistic crap my friends (Tyger and Bubbles)* always tell me to do. I'm gonna take a vacation next week. Just for me. Just to see if I still know how to enjoy myself. Hopefully, it doesn't involve too many bars or too many gallons of beer but I seriously doubt that. Beer is the cornerstone of a good time for me. I might even try my hand at a few poker tables. As a matter of fact, I'm dying to find some poker action because I need to test out a theory. As the saying goes:

"Lucky at cards, unlucky in love."

If that is even slightly accurate then I should be a natural at poker. Even if I'm not, I love playing that game so it stands to reason that I should play for fun. Who knows? I might even win me some rent money.

All that aside, I still can't get my mind off of that girl. She vowed that she and I would never have sex again. If you don't know anything about me, the word "never" just makes me lock on to you like a cruise missile! It's one of my character flaws.

1) Always want what I can't have.
2) Don't know what I have until it's gone.
3) I always end up hurting what I love.

What's worse, they usually go off like dominoes. They set off a chain reaction that often leaves people (and me) in tears. However, now that the word, "never" was used, I want it even more; I want her even more. It's pure lust, I know but I can't resist.

UGH! What is wrong with me? Man, I can't wait for that vacation time! I don't know where I'm gonna go but I need to get away. Play some games, drink some beers and, God-willing, fuck some other chicks. As I always say: Nothing gets you over the last one like the next one!

*You know who you are!

I Just Lost One.

I've been brooding as of late. Too much on my mind. Since I haven't been around the blogosphere in awhile, I'll just cut to the chase: I got a girl pregnant. Now to tell you that story I have to tell you this one.

A decade or so ago, while I was in the U.S. Marine Corps, I was a communicator and worked with a lot of equipment that gave off a lot of radiation. Nothing murderous (that we knew of anyway) but it was known that it did give most of my sperm a tan, so to speak. Damn near everyone I served with, within my MOS, that had children almost always had girls. The reason being, is that said radiation from the equipment almost always destroyed the Y chromosome that made it possible to have boys. Well, my condition was a bit more severe. Apparently my sperm count was never up to par. At least, it wasn't as strong as when I started fucking at the ripe old age of 14 years old. (Go Mannix!) The docs said that would improve over time and that I shouldn't worry.

A year and some change ago, however, I went for a check up and my sperm count was still sub par. "Oh well," I said to myself. I consigned myself to the fact that I couldn't have kids. It wasn't just because of the opinions of a few physicians either. I was in a 3 year relationship with my then girlfriend and I know we had a ton of would-be accidents (most of them alcohol induced) and before her, I was in an on and off relationship with another woman for far longer that that and, since we were with each other and exclusive for so long, the use of protection was almost a non issue. Furthermore, these were women I had commited to. All that time, in two different, serious relationships and not one accident.

So now, I'm single. Shooting the shit. Having fun. Haven't been with a girl in awhile so, naturally, I jump at the chance when, pardon the term, "pussy presented itself" so willingly. How could I resist? The person in question wasn't a stranger either. It was just someone that I didn't think I would ever bed. A friend, let's call her Dolly*. (And yes, she's in a relationship with another person. Nothing I'm proud of but nothing I'm ashamed of either. It was one of those spontaneous, heat of the moment things and the sex was phenomenal!) We have no intentions of ever getting serious; no intentions of ever starting a family. So naturally, now I have the ability to have a kid. Now my sperm starts wanting to do it's job.

I could blame the new exercise regimen and proper diet I was on or just divine providence for my newfound vigor and "testicular fortitude" but that's irrelevant. What I can't help but find ironic is the fact that I conceived a child with a woman that I knew would never keep my seed.

Seeing my Goddaughter's deadbeat father and knowing of countless other stories of similar deadbeats, I know I would never be that way. Moreover, I wanted the child. Lord knows if this ONE time was just a fluke. That's all that kept running through my mind when I asked her what she wanted to do even though I knew the answer to that question before I asked it. She made a choice and as much as I hated this one particular choice, I respect her right to make it. To her credit, she seriously considered having my child. Knowing full well I may never have this opportunity again, she actually considered pretty much putting the kibosh on her entire relationship just to sire my child.

As depressed as I am about not having the privilege of being a father, I cannot fault her nor can I ever be mad at her. Not many friends, not even close ones, would ever even consider sacrificing so much.

So here I am, still brooding on the loss; still dreaming of the prospect of ever cradling a son or daughter of my loins in my arms. However, as much as I am saddened, I have newfound hope. It very well may be possible that I am still very capable of having a child of my own. Nevertheless, if I regret nothing else, I will anguish over one thing: My baby would've had the most beautiful eyes one could ever hope to gaze at.

*Names have been changed. Honor has to be protected.

Disconnected.

I can't believe how much of an internet addict I am. I had to come to the Starbucks in Edgewater, NJ to use their wi-fi just to type up this blog entry. Granted, I have access the internet on my iPhone and I never, EVER even consider shutting my fucking iPhone off ever! And still, I'm fucking freaking out that I don't have it at home. It's not enough to just be able to check my email and update my status on Facebook. I need to be able to comment multiple friend comments while excepting friend requests, write a blog and still be able to actively participate in Cafe World, Vampire Wars, etc. OH! And the lack of porn is a motherfucker!

Granted, living in a house with three women all of sudden puts a damper on my self-love sessions. (Self-Love? I am SO coining that phrase!) By the way, did I mention that I've moved back in with my mother, sister and Goddaughter in Union City and no longer have any privacy...EVER?! If I did, I don't know how it slipped my mind.

Needless to say, I recommended to my sister that she switch from Cablevision to Verizon. To be honest, I don't know why cable even exists! Fiber optics is much faster. Incidentally, I plan on getting Halo: Reach as soon as I get an X-Box 360 so I'll be needing that boost in internet performance. (Ok! So I have a vested interest in the need for better internet! Sue me!)

I'm still trying to get the money together to accomplish all of this though. Suffice it to say, while my thoughts and needs for internet all revolve around what some might consider childish needs, I am still attempting to behave like a responsible adult. (No, really! I am!) That being said, I don't have the money for either an X-Box 360 or the new internet hook-up. Everyone is suggesting I just get the X-Box so I can at least have something to do but that isn't good enough for me. I'm such an achievement whore that I can't enjoy playing the games without knowing said achievements will be properly saved to my gamertag, but I digress.

The grown up in me is fighting the kid in me. It's a struggle but I'm taking it one day at a time just like my alcohol problem. (The problem being that I don't have enough of it in my system at any given time of the day!)

Here's hoping my birthday next week affords me the opportunity to take care of one of those problems. (Gonna be 32, by the way.)

When I Get Bored, I Get Thirsty

I had forgotten how much this little cluster of towns had to offer. Everything is so fucking close together! While that may seem like a bad thing, I think it's fucking awesome. Bergenline Avenue alone boasts a wide variety of South American cuisine. Seriously, I think every fucking country is represented. Incidentally, between that and my mother's cooking, I'm getting fat again. Correction: I'm getting FATTER again. I was already fat to begin with.

I had forgotten about the endless amount of dollar stores, mom and pop shops and bodegas, bodegas, bodegas! It's good to have options people. That's all I'm saying. However, for all of these options, there isn't a decent pub within spitting or pissing distance. Sure I can go to the Whiskey Bar, Black Bear, McSwiggins or any number of pubs in Hoboken but I must confess, I've gotten spoiled living in Little Ferry for so long. I miss having a bar that's literally right down the street. I'm not saying there aren't any around here in Union City but a majority of them aren't even pubs. OH! And some of them aren't even legitimate businesses. A tell-tale sign of that is when you're in a bar and it doesn't show up on any Google or Yelp business searches but you know for a fact it's been there over a year. Also, if there's a shitload of security for such a small space, either get the fuck out or take your chances.

Now, I know what you're thinking.

Mannix, Mannix! Why, oh why is drinking cold, draft beer at pubs your only form
of entertainment?!

The answer is simple: there aren't enough comic book stores, firing ranges, Brazilian Ju-Jitsu dojos or strip clubs around to keep my overactive attention span occupied. Ok well, actually there are but they're also ridiculously expensive either in one sitting or over time and, as much as I want to have fun, I must remember that I have to save money because I can't allow this whole "living at home" thing to become permanent, but I digress.

Actually, I don't know why I love pubs and bars so much other than the fact that I'm a tempered alcoholic. (I have to remember to coin that phrase.) However, having moved back to my old stomping grounds and having not only Hoboken but Manhatten all the more closer to me, I've been attempting to discover newer forms of entertainment. The problem is, well, I'll be damned if I know what I'm really passionate about. Let's go through the list:

• Beer
• Sex
• More Beer
• More Sex
• Comic books
• Video games
• Mixed Martial Arts
• Firearms

Hmm...maybe I should broaden my horizons before I start contemplating being passionate about something. Then again, I love doing the pub thing. Last night, in Elmwood Park, I visited my friend Jamie but as she was busy pouring drinks, I realized that I loved people watching and listening in on all manner of conversations both casual and slightly odd. I loved it.

So, while change is good and discovering new things would be a boon to my imagination, why should I stop doing what already makes me happy?

That being said, I'll see you at the pub!

Home Sweet Holy Moley!

Before I get started and go off on a tangent elaborating the title of this blog, a disclaimer is in order. Let it be known that I love my family. Be it nuclear or extended, blood is blood. Even when we argue, I know that when the shit hits the fan, I can always count on my family.

That being said, I must've been out of my mind when I decided to move back home! While it's convenient at the moment, I should've really thought out moving back home with not just my mother but my mother, sister and Goddaughter. Even if they weren't family, a single man, nay, any man, should think long and hard before moving into a house with three women. Why, you ask? If you shut up, I'll tell you. Ok. Women living together tend to drive each other bananas and if one isn't careful (And by "one" I mean "anyone with a penis who values his sanity"), one might get sucked into the maelstrom of illogical insanity that women seem to create out of nothing. Here I am, in a house with not just three women but three moms.

My mother loves having me home. Being her only son and the baby of the family to boot, I get doted on a lot. Much to the chagrin of my older sister. My sister loves that I'm home and can not only be a distraction to my mother but that I can also keep an eye on my Goddaughter. As for my "little mom," she pretty much runs my life and I think she's just happy to have me around. I missed her too so I'm just as excited to be living there for the majority of the summer. I'm having a blast so far. Oh! And did I fail to mention that I'm helping out with the rent, groceries, gas for the cars and the occasional payment of parking tickets that both my mother and sister seem to be magnets for? Hmmm...must've slipped my mind.

Anyway, I have to be careful. If I know them, they'll never kick me out and it's easy to get complacent when you have people who cook you meals and clean your clothes plus lend you their cars or give you rides everywhere. Incidentally, my mother's cooking alone has reminded me that I have to start working out even more rigorously. Add to that that my sister is always giving me a ride to wherever I need to go and I'm not burning calories anymore.

Chief among the reasons I have to leave is the fights. When women fight, they can fight! It's usually fierce and it's enough to drive one crazy. Moreover, they make a man long for the peace and sometimes quiet of a bachelor pad; a man-cave, if you will. And lest we forget, I may want to get laid sometime this year... or decade.

So, I'm definitely moving out as soon as I can. I might even start looking for an apartment soon too! Well, maybe after I get out of work, go eat breakfast and take a nap at home. Yeah! I'm definitely finding my own place...eventually. Maybe. I hope.

OMG! I Have A Goal!

I just finished reading Stephanie Meyer's Eclipse novella, "The Short Second Life of Bree Tanner." What a marvelous little story. It was an exceptional add-on to Eclipse. Both the movie and the book. (I swear to you, they are two separate entities with striking similarities.) That woman is gifted. She makes you fall in love with most, if not all, of her characters. Normally that's a good thing but in this case...well, it sucks a giant one!

Bree is a character in Eclipse. A brief one. But once you read the novella, you wish that she had a bigger role in the overall story. That's all I can say really without killing too much of the novella. Heh! Not that anyone reads this blog anyway but still, you never know. Besides, I hate being a spoiler.

I brought all of that up because that's what I'm aspiring to. Bree was a side character but Meyer breathed a whole new life into this little bit character. I can't help to say that I'm impressed with that kind of skill. I want to write but more than that, I want people to remember the characters I create. Moreover, I would hope that each character I create can be just as memorable or, at the very least, interesting. Characters like that and a good plot make for literary gold. Would I love it if I could live off of my work? Would I love to be a rags to riches story like Rowling? An instant sensation like Meyer? Immortal in the eyes of all geekdom like Tolkien? Of course! But I'll gladly settle for one person. If even one person reads one of my stories and loves it, I can die happy. Then again, a million wouldn't be bad either. However, like most writers, I do more brainstorming and less writing. Truth be told, sometimes I'm a bit apprehensive in opening up my mind to the rest of the world. I don't want to frighten anyone too much. It's the same reason I don't let anyone read my journal. One peak into my thoughts and I fear I may be expecting either an intervention or an invitation to the nearest insane asylum. Then again, fuck it! Sometimes to make it, you have to be willing to be even more bat-shit crazy than the craziest motherfucker in the room. I think I have the talent. Let's just hope it's a good read.

Listen To Me.

I don't think you heard what I said the first time around. No problem. I don't mind repeating myself for the thousandth time. Follow me around the room and try to keep up this time:

• Yes, I was looking at your girl. She's the one with the nice rack, the skin tight shirt that's accentuating said rack and those beautiful blue eyes. I noticed the eyes because she was looking at me. NEWS FLASH! People tend to do that sometimes.
• No, that doesn't mean I was trying to steal her from you so I could fuck her brains out.
• Yes, I definitely would have done that had the opportunity presented itself especially now that I know you're a douchebag!
• What am I looking at? An attitude problem. Does that answer your question? Good. Let me know if I can be of any further assistance.
• Yes. I did buy my license you stupid, old bat! But while we're on the subject, let's talk about why you're really upset. You're mad at me and my supposed lack of driving skills because I didn't leave you enough space to pass me on 45th street in Union City. However, you're bitching at me...AS YOU'RE FUCKING PASSING ME! Who's the one with problem here, toots?! Here's a clue: NOT ME!
• To all you fucks out there who want to date a great girl but are WAY too insecure to trust her not to break your heart because you're too chickenshit to trust anyone, STOP FUCKING DATING CHICKS THEN! You're only making them miserable and showing how much of a dumb fuck you are! (I'm looking at you, Mr. B.)
• Yes. "NOM-NOM" is a compliment.
• Yes, Captain Obvious. I DO know that for a quarter more I can get the large popcorn. However, are you aware that for a quarter less than that, I CAN GET THE FUCKING SIZE I ASKED FOR?!
• So what if I like The Twilight Saga and the books. I happen to like the story and it's gotten me closer to my Goddaughter and has also inspired her to read more.
• Oh! And I'm still getting more pussy than you despite me liking the Twilight books. Stick that in your pipe and smoke it!
• I TOLD YOU BRAZIL WAS GOING TO LOSE!
• Yes. I am happy about that.
• Yes I am a motherfucker! Which reminds me, tell her I said hello and to put dinner in the microwave for me. I'll be getting there late.
• I am extremely happy that you're new man is perfect. Better still, I'm ecstatic that, as your ex, I don't have to give a shit!
• For the last fucking time, no! We've never, ever, ever had sex! EVER!
• Yes. I did think about it. It comes with the penis. Sue me!
• Yes, now I'm regretting that I haven't considering that I hate being accused of something I didn't do!
• No. I'm not a hater. I just don't like the Yankees or the Lakers. Eat me!
• No. I'm not a violent person.
• Really! I'm not a violent person!
• WELL FUCK YOU IF YOU DON'T BELIEVE ME, YOU PIECE OF SHIT!
• Yes. Sometimes I miss the Corps.
• Yes. I'll always love her. She'll always have a place in my heart but I am over her. Really.
• No. I sometimes don't give a fuck about my future or my career.
• Seriously, dude! Don't you think I'd be in jail or dead if I really owned a gun?!
• Hell to the no you can't trust me around your wife! Drunk or sober!
• Especially if I'm drunk!
• Especially if she's drunk and I have a pulse!
• Yes, semen washes off but if you're gonna bitch about it, why didn't you just swallow as I had initially suggested?
• No. There's nothing wrong with paying for sex. If anything, it should be sold wholesale.
• No. Weed isn't a drug. It's a plant!
• Yes. I believe in marriage.
• No. I don't think I'm ever going to get married.
• Yes. I'm a pessimist.
• No. It doesn't bother me.
• Yes. I have been homeless before.
• No. There's nothing wrong with the water in Jersey.
• Ok. I'll admit it just this once: Sometimes I do tend to have above average homicidal tendancies but I assure you, I'm keeping them in check.

And last but not least:

• Yes. I truly do believe in soul mates but I don't think that it's a guarantee that we'll all end up with them.

Hey! You asked! I'm just trying to tell you something. Are you picking up what I'm laying down? Are you smelling what I'm cooking? Are you speakin' what I'm spreckin? I'm just trying to spray some knowledge around but I don't think any of you are getting wet.

My Family Seems Familiar To Me.

I had a blast this weekend! I forgot how fun family gatherings can be. Actually, I've been thinking that this entire month. My cousin Linday celebrated her son Jayden's first birthday party in grand fashion a week back. I don't think I even had a birthday party until I was two but I digress. In typical Colombian family fashion, that party got out of hand when the salsa, merengue and cumbias started kicking off the speakers. The hall was decorated nice and the liquor and beer were almost free-flowing. I actually took a step back and saw my family and felt ashamed that I, at one time, (just before leaving the Corps) thought of never coming back to Jersey. I love them so much! I forget just how beautiful each and every single one of them are to me and how blessed I am. I know many people that don't have anyone in the world.

Fast forward to this past Saturday night. We got hammered out of our skulls and kidded around at my cousin's barbecue. Well, there really wasn't any barbecue but we were in the backyard. There was, however, ceviche and soup. Yummy! Not that we needed it. Back in the day, we all used to party because it was Tuesday. (I shit you not!) More importantly, there was a ton of beer and, even though my uncle Gene kept saying to take it easy on the Aguaardiente for fear of it running out...IT NEVER RAN THE FUCK OUT! It was like when Jesus turned water into wine or something. Then, we went to Bloomfield and Steve busted out some steaks and more beer at around 3 in the morning! It was awesome! We hadn't done that in a long time!

I took a step back there as well and realized (aside from the fact that I have a big fucking family) that I needed to spend more time with them. So, I won't balk at invitations to family gathering anymore. Well, it's not that I ever did. The problem is working at night. I think that I may actually have to get another job with better hours just so I can relish in family activities again. Either that or win the lottery or something. Family should come first, right?

Can't Wait to Finally Snap!

One day. One day I'm going to go on one hell of a killing spree. I think I should buy a gun now so as to have it at the ready. That might sound crazy but I'd rather go on a killing spree with a gun that go buck wild with my K-Bar or Buck knife. Then again, some people might actually freaking deserve it.

Case in point: That piece of shit prick that gave me an overtime parking meter ticket in West New York, NJ while my car was still running and I was in the car! You need to go, motherfucker! You need to go in a slow and agonizing way. I'm not saying I didn't merit that ticket. The meter was at zero but guess what? The motherfucking car was on and I was sitting the fuck inside it! Did I dose off? Yeah. I work nights and I was sleepy. Two points! But if you're gonna have the balls to put the ticket on my windshield with me in the car, at least have the motherfuckin' balls to knock on the window and wake me up and tell me what happened! Fucking meter maids! Fucking male meter maids too! Those motherfuckers should be packing guns themselves because people in general always want to beat down or otherwise run over a meter maid but check themselves because they're women. If that's not the case anymore, a case could be made for those "maids" to be packing heat.

While I'm on my tantrum, could the management officials in my workplace (they shall remain nameless and anonymous but you know who the fuck you are) get their collective heads out of their asses and fix at least one thing in the building. For either the sake of the tenants or the employees! Trust me! It'll work out in the end if you can, at the very least, unfuck one thing that's wrong in that building! I don't know if any of you have ever had to work inside of a sauna but that's what it feels like working in a high-rise with no air conditioning. Then you have tenants complaining to the employees (who know even less than they do at times) about the heat and lack of pool and the endless amounts of renovations, etc., and it's a miracle someone/anyone else hasn't snapped either.

I hope it's me! I hope I lose control of the little sanity I have left first! I'll release it like hounds are released after a fugitive. It'll be glorious! I already have a killing spree and path of rage set out. I won't tell any of you where. I want it to be a surprise but you'll know when it happens. It'll be on the news. Hell! I want to do such a good job that they have to activate the emergency broadcast system!

So just remember, that not only am I ready to snap, I'm not alone. We are motherfuckin' legion! Think on that! Think on that the next time you cut someone off or block an intersection because you were too fucking impatient to wait at the red light. Think on that when you don't hold the elevator for me or fuck up my coffee order. Think on that when you were a prick all throughtout dinner and ran up an $80 bill and only tipped $3. Definitely think long and hard when you're putting a ticket on the windshield of a car when all you had to do was tap on the windshield and ask for a quarter. Think and remember: We're all one bad day away from snapping and the sad part is, none of us know how close we may have already come to setting off someone else's apocalypse.

YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Keep Walking

I did a shitload of walking in the last 24 hours. Mostly through my hometown of West New York, NJ. The problem with that is that as you walk through old streets and familiar surroundings, so too do you walk that good old path of nostalgia. Sometimes, it can't be helped. Sometimes, you walk it in hopes of finding that old path. I don't know which one of the two I was trying to accomplish. All I know is that I was in another decade last night.

I left my mother's house in Union City around 10pm. on foot, so as to give myself plenty of time to walk to my job in North Bergen. (Graveyard shift.) I had crashed there the previous evening for reasons I'm embarrassed about and don't want to get into. (Forgot to pay the energy bill and my place was a sauna without the AC.) Anyway, I start walking and I start remembering.

I remembered where Time Out arcade used to be and how I used to cut class to go there and play Mortal Kombat until my eyes were about to bleed. I also remember a rainy day where me and my Crew walked there and had the time of our lives only to walk back, have some hoodlums steal my baseball cap and then introduce me to my very first right hook. Ah! Good times!

A few blocks later, I was at Memorial High School. It still looks exactly the same. God I hated that place. Still do, a little anyway. They say high school is the best four years of your life. If that's the case, I should've given a blow job to a .45 caliber the minute I got my diploma (which took me 5 years to get). I won't get into why...there are too many reasons to get into at the moment.

Anyway, I passed the school and those memories soon faded. Soon after, I took a good hard look at the town as I walked block after block and got closer to work and wondered to myself:

Why the fuck did you come back to this town after you left the military?!

Besides my family and friends, I couldn't fathom why. However, they still would've been family and friends if I lived somewhere else! Why did I come back to this town where everyone walking past me gives me a hard look or a glazed one depending on how high/drunk they are; where you see idiotic things like a fat chick driving one of those economy Honda/Hyundai cars instead of walking her fat ass around to lose that weight. (That happened around 58th street. She was driving around and almost hit me as I was about to get on the crosswalk. She turned the corner and I read on the back of the car the letters F-I-T and I couldn't help to chuckle to myself, "Yeah! Just barely!" ) Where a nice little Korean couple (I can tell them apart now) actually stopped by a tree to pick the berries and eat a few. That almost made me gag considering the state we're in. I don't trust anything off of the trees in Jersey, but I digress. I kept walking the streets. Streets where a few young chicks were walking down smelling all good and dressed to the nines...in FULL HOOKER GEAR! (Yeah! I looked! Don't be stupid! You would've too!)

As I keep walking I keep wondering, "why did I come back?" And then it hits me! So I stopped around 63rd., a block away from where she used to live and I say to myself:

Well, if she doesn't love you anymore and you don't have a chance to get her back and you're really honest with yourself about being truly over her...then what the fuck is keeping you here?

And as I got closer to my dead-end job, I start realizing that there really isn't anything keeping me here.

I realized, that I have to keep on walking.

The Answer to the Question

Understand this. I know the answer. I really do. I've known it for a long time but have chosen not to voice it because everyone will give me shit for it. Hell! Those that asked the question and heard the answer have cocked their heads to one side and given me that look. You know the one. The one that screams the question in their heads; "Are you fucking crazy?!" Sometimes, I can almost hear it in my head as if it was a psychic attack of some sort.

So what is the question, you ask? Ok. I'll tell you. The question is:
What do you want to do with your life?

Sounds like a simple one to answer right? You could ask a number of kindergarteners that question and receive a plethora of answers ranging from highly ambitious to wonderfully amusing. Ask me that and you might get a chuckle out of my answer too. That is, until you realize I'm being fucking serious.

My answer:
Nothing.

I don't just want to wither away and die. However, I really don't have any ambition to do anything except maybe write. However, like most would-be writers, I end up spending more time daydreaming about things to write instead of actually putting pen to paper. So, to clarify, it's not that I necessarily want to do be a professional vagabond. It's just that I'm disinclined to commit to anything at the moment. Sound fucked up?

I heard once somewhere that a guy stops maturing at the age where he was truly happy. If that's the case, I have the emotional maturity of a 13 year old. I was content with writing short stories, playing video games, reading comics and chasing skirts for the first time in my life. Looking back, I can honestly say that's the "nothing" I want to do with my life.

See why I get those looks now?

Normally, I'd be concerned about this. I'd go to a psychiatrist and he or she would tell me that I have to find my inner child and give it a strong dose of Ritalin. But FUCK THAT SHIT!

I've seen far too many people who have become slaves and zombies to their jobs because they don't know how to unwind; there are people that go to college for years and get a degree in something all to say, "Hey! This isn't what I wanted to do in my life!" While I know it's foolish to waste time, I don't want to end up like that. I won't.

I'm content now. Not truly happy but content. I like my comics and my video games. I'll raise a family eventually. Maybe if I find a girl who's just as into the doing nothing as I am. Until then, I'll keep dating all the dead-end crazy chicks I seem to attract with strange mutant power. Maybe I will go back to college if it suits me. Hell! I might even pen that first novel I've been saying I'm going to start...um, penning. I don't know. All I do know is that I'm not having anywhere near as much fun as I need to be having. I also know, that I can't be the only one thinking the same way.

I wonder if there's a way to do "nothing" responsibly? Work hard and be responsible whilst not losing that precious inner child.

I know the answer to the question. I never said it was the right one but it's the only one I've got at the moment.