Well, now seems like as good a time as any.|
For the forseeable future (and let's keep in mind the fact that I'm legally blind), it appears as though I'll be shutting down Trivial Consquence v2.0.
We've had a nice long run did me, myself, and I, but I'm trying to
mentally get to greener pastures. I'm moving laterally and have started
a new blog free of the self-induced depression you've come to know and
But fear not faithful children, follow my zany adventures with a scooch less hopelessness at The Definite Maybe.
Also, tune in to Making Up Words
to see what happens when a story comes together in the most
off-the-cuff way possible. I'm hoping to have updates at least every
Saturday. My goal, for whatever reason, is to make this first story a
52-page short story. From there we may get shorter or longer, but at
least we're getting somewhere.
So this is it. I'm hanging up my spikes. Thanks to xanga and
LiveJournal for all their generous hosting. Thanks to everyone who read
this and didn't think I was bonkers. One day I might return. Hell, I
would virtually guarantee it. But for now this is goodbye.
I'll see you on the other side.
Hawks made some moves|
Nice job signing Lue and actually getting Stoudamire under
contract. I think these are more significant than people might
think, but we'll see. I don't know about Edwards but having any
7-footer is always nice. Whatever happened to Collier?
The Price is Wrong
He was great in Madden, but I'll look at Peerless Price's numbers with
the Falcons and I'll tell you 7 years and $37 million is too
much. Jenkins and White, it's on you.
I was looking for more information on cognitive behavioral therapy.|
I came across this excerpt from a book. Crazy...
When I wake up tomorrow things have to be different.|
I can't feel the way I've felt the last 36 hours anymore. I thought I was just having a bad time of it. These things come in cycles so I should have expected this. But I'm not having a bad time of it. This is the worst.
It feels like I'm being subjected to some kind of intervention. Everyone is busy trying to convince that I am utterly insane while trying to figure out the reasons why. I traded e-mails all day with someone who tried to convince how worthwhile a person I am. At night I got drunk dialed and asked questions I couldn't answer.
I'm tired of saying that I'm fucked up or that my head doesn't work right. I need to be a better person immediately. I need to stop living in my head and start existing. I need to stop writing on this stupid fucking site. It's nothing if not the most detrimental element of my mental paralysis.
So tomorrow I'll wake up. I'll pop a pill and go for a run. And when I get back I want to be someone else. I don't really care who at this point. Just make sure that when I walk back through that door some kind of change has been effected. I don't think that everyone who isn't me is happy or normal all of the time. But I do think they have the ability to be either or both of these things from time to time.
She said that most things aren't stellar, and the word choice struck me as both amusing and odd. I'm not trying to have a stellar time. I'm just trying to hate everything a little less.
At one point tonight I hit a wall. It was as bad as the morning that I lied face down on the floor of my room because I didn't feel like moving. But then I got another phone call. So I put my fiction suit back on and picked up. And the person on the other end asked what I was up to and when I said disparagingly that I was watching TV like the awesome college student that I am, they told me they would love to trade places with me. And for whatever reason, the storm clouds parted. This tiny utterance made a dent in the armor. And for just a moment I didn't feel quite to boxed in.
I also asked someone to marry me. She thought I was joking. I think that's probably how it'll happen when I do it the right way. I'll finally meet a girl who cares enough to remember my name and smile from time to time. I'll get a ring, brandish it, and say something clumsily from one knee. And she'll laugh.
I'm not waiting for some perfect imagined moment anymore. I'm done waiting.
"You're not happy, but you are comfortable in your unhappiness, no?"|
Elaine asked me that last night. I told her I was used to it, but not comfortable. The truth is, I might be. I mean, I do everything in my power to make sure nothing changes. That might mean I need to feel this way. If things ever got better I would probably hate it.
Renae asked me how many times girls had thought I was attractive and I just shrugged it off. The sad thing is, the answer is more than once. But I don't believe them. I have a mirror. What does it matter what people say when you think they're all crazy. I'm out there living. I know the truth.
|» You Needn't Care|
Revelations come at all times.|
Here's one for you: It's hot as the dickens in my apartment right now. But that's not why I'm writing. I'm writing because today wasn't a good day. I was trying to be slightly positive. I was trying to be the "glass is half full" guy. We all knew it wasn't me, but I was trying.
Well, today was a bad day. I realized I hate everything. I realized I hate people I see walking down the street before I even get a real chance to look at them. And I don't dislike them or want to make fun of them. I hate them.
I spend so much time in my head that I neglect everyone around me, even when they go out of their way to be nice to me. I'm an asshole. Plain and simple. I masquerade as the nice guy, but what do I do to earn that status. Sure, I'm polite to people in the service industry. Sure, I don't go out of my way to spit on minorities. But I'm not nice to people. I never do anything spontaneously or selflessly. And so what if I'm there for my friends when they need me? Where am I when they don't?
It's not a relationship that I need. It's psychoanalysis. It's drugs and alcohol. It's medication. How can I expect anyone to like me when I hate me, and them, and everything else I lay my eyes on. I could write you a list of all the things that piss me off and it would take me four days and still not be complete. Or I could do the opposite list and all it would say is "Scrubs."
Every time I watch a movie I think about the fact that none of my ideas are good. And beyond that, I never finish them. I have 100 concepts built around one moment or line of dialogue. I have no stories. I can't write what I know because I've spent more than a decade knowing nothing but this feeling. I'm sick and tired of being nothing but this feeling.
Where's my light at the end of the tunnel? My corner? My third act? If this is my worst possible moment, what's the next scene? How many wishes do I have to make? How many prayers have to go unanswered until I get through this?
With nothing to enjoy or look forward to, I really don't know where to go. I don't know whose shoulder to cry on or whose coat to pull. If people are really willing to listen, shouldn't I have something to say. I know exactly what's wrong with me. What I don't know is whether or not it can be fixed.
It's probably good that I decided I don't need a relationship. I took the eHarmony personality survey thing to get matched up according to their formula. What happened? It seems I'm one of the 20% of people they just can't help. Big fucking surprise.
I started another blog. Don't worry, this one won't just be reposting like these two are. I don't know exactly what's going to happen, but we'll see in time. Hey, maybe I could stop just calling myself a writer and actually do some writing. Or would that make too much sense?
They should line the bottom of the barrel with a trampoline so you bounce back. That would be much better than this scraping.
create your own personalized map of the USA
or check out ourCalifornia travel guide
I think these are all of the states I have been to. And some of them may have only been for a couple hours passing through.
|» Um, Help?|
I woke up on top of the covers this morning.|
I never got into bed, just passed out watching Nip/Tuck. My back and stomach both hurt. My left ear feels waterlogged. Oh, and I'm seeing spots in both eyes.
Should I be worried?
|» School Day Blues|
I didn't want it to be like this.|
Remember back in elementary/middle/high school when going back to school was something that made you sad because the summer was over but was still somehow something you anticipated? Yeah, well, even I do. I guess it was because there was a time when even public schools taught and you got to see your friends after a summer of camp, vacations, or in my case recluse-like behavior. Well, it's just not working out for me this year.
From the moment I left work on Monday to the moment I hit highway, Hoover, and the parking center, I've been thinking about how much I hate my commute, fellow students, and going to school. And it's not that that even surprises me; when's the last time I liked anything? I just wish I could have gotten through one week before I felt this way. Why did I have to be the oldest soul ever put in a body this young? What happened to make me this jaded shell of a man?
When my mother called and I told her how much I wasn't enjoying school, she immediately jumped to one conclusion: "You need a girlfriend." It's funny, because with that kind of talk I would assume she's been reading this site regularly. And I guess it's not funny for a lot of other reasons. In fact, ever since she bought me The Idiot's Guide to Dating while I was in high school it hasn't been funny.
She told me a story the other day that made me really happy. Someone she knows just got married to a girl he met through some dating site. When he first read the profile of his now-wife, he yelled to his roommate, "If this profile is the real deal, this is the girl I'm going to marry." After about two months of talking through the site, they met in person for the first time. After their first date, she told everyone that she had just been out with the guy she was going to marry. Sure enough, within six months they were married.
It's stories like that and the one about how my parents met (see Noah with questions) that both give me hope and make me sad. Happy because magic does exist. Sad because there might not be enough left for me to get a taste of it. Just once, I'd love to look at a girl and think, "Chem 15, right?" And if she smiled the right way I would know it was meant to be.
I just want to get to a place where I see the world the way everyone else does. For whatever reason I'm still the same guy I was back in the 7th grade when I thought every girl should look like she stepped out of the SI Swimsuit Issue. To be honest, I'm not expecting this in my day-to-day. I expect real women to exist in the real world. But still my standards are impossibly high. I stick by my guns, telling everyone how important it is not to settle, and yet I'm wishing that some day I could. Or at least change my perception so that settling doesn't seem like such a resignation.
In other news, women are still evil. But I did learn tonight that sometimes this may not be intentional. Keep in mind, sometimes does not mean never. Nor does it mean always...
|» Collective Retardation|
It only took one class to remind me why I don't fit in.|
I just don't see the world the way these other "film students" do. I don't laugh like a hyena or pull theoretical argot out of my nether regions. I watch movies. I study them. But that's not all that I am.
I just hope I'm in the right state of mind and that these others will just fade away.
I feel better about work. It's not because I went out with people and had a good time, nor is it totally because I'm no longer there 40+ hours a week. It's just a conscious decision to feel better. I'm trying it out.
I'm feeling better about a lot of things. I wouldn't say the other night when I was taken to task for being a depressive fuck is what did it; that certainly wasn't hitting bottom. Getting any closer to it wasn't really an option though.
Every day I try a little bit harder. I fill the hole so that I can't sink that low again. One of thse days I'll get back to level ground. From there who knows?
"You can't take a picture of this, it's already gone." - Six Feet Under
Thanks for five great seasons.