Things That Bother Me
Here’s a general list of things that straight up bug the shit out of me, just because I’m in that kind of mood today. Surly and barely affable. Not depressed, not angry, just “bothered” and “buggered” and “frumpy”.
- The drive-thru lineup at Tim Horton’s every morning. Hey, assholes, if you weren’t so fucking lazy you’d see that the inside of the store is pretty much empty with about 8 people manning the tills. If you got off your fat, stupid faces you’d realize that parking your car and going inside to get your shit will take about 30 seconds. No, just sit in your fucking car for 10 minutes instead, assholes.
- Teenagers thinking they’re funny at the McDonald’s drive-thru. I’ve heard every stupid joke you’ve ever pulled a million times already this week, no need to do that. Yelling into the microphone and intentionally ordering the wrong things means we’re going to spit in your food and call you names behind your back the whole time we’re serving you.
- Existentialism. Life is complicated enough as it is without having to ponder the complete inanity and futility of it. It makes your brain hurt and you look like a pompous jackass if you try. Also, spending an entire class divulging your thoughts on existentialism is tiring and a waste of learning time.
- Researching The Tudors. James IV, James V, Mary Tudor Margaret Tudor Mary Queen of Scots Henry VII VIII Battle of Flodden Selway Moss stop being so confusing and draining me of the will to live while I research my essay.
- Movies that predict the future in a WRONG way. 2001: A Space Odyssey excepted. Back to the Future 2, stop getting your late 80s shiny rainbow hats into my sci-fi.
- Working out and not seeing or feeling immediate results, which leads me into being disgusted that I’m a tool who wants immediate results with everything. Brainwashing done by Men’s Health and GQ and Esquire.
- Kat Dennings’ complete lack of a presence in Hollywood. She’s better looking than Angelina, more intelligent than Paris, and a better actress than Natalie.
Ohai, just being beautiful over here.
- The complete and utter over-ratedness of both Katy Perry and Lady GaGa. They have about 4 good songs between them and are neither innovative or forward-thinking. 2010 will be a year where they will be both forgotten, and it bothers me that 2010 will probably see a new album from both of them.
- Perez Hilton. You’re a smaller fish who feeds off the bacteria of the whale shark called the “celebrity industry”. You give a completely horrible name to gay people everywhere and if it wasn’t a hate crime, I’d find you and teach you a fucking lesson you cunt.
- Homeless people need to stop harrassing my ass whenever I’m downtown. I know you’re life is hard now but me paying for the crystal meth habit that got you in the position of homelessness in the first place isn’t something I ever want to do, ever.
That felt good, fuckers.
Something Broken, Someone Blue
Eating nachos (nachoes?) with the English Gang tonight made me sort of cringe at the fact that my first semester is almost over. Already? But there was so much I wanted to do. Pub night for one thing. I know that there will be plenty of time to do what I need to do over the next few years, but it’s still another case of “I can’t believe how much time flies.” It’s kind of off-putting in the sense that it just vanishes and you don’t know where it goes. It’s a theme we talked about today in Lit Studies – the futility of free will in a life where things don’t matter – and it rings true. I spent so much time studying and reading and now its a month away from Christmas. Weird. Off-putting.
But that’s life I suppose. Nothing wrong with life, no siree bob. In fact things have been going quite well lately. I’ve been working out kind-of-sort-of on a frequent basis, which makes me feel less guilty about eating the junk food that I do. I’ve worked hard on my projects and I’m receiving alright marks for them, squarely in the B- level of things, which is decent enough, I suppose. I’ve been reading and catching up on movies and getting along with my parents and brushing my teeth properly and all of that normal citizen stuff I’ve dreamed about for so long. It completely coincides with an uppage in the dosage of my anti-depressants, so the two are obviously completely related. That’s cool though.
Today was very much a “me” kind of day. My brain was frazzled and messy all day after having my ass kicked by a very challenging essay the past three days. I’ve never had such a hard essay to write before but it was still one of those “nice challenges”. But today, I’ve been, and will be, just kickin’ back and maxxin’ the relaxin’. Nothing says post-essay stress lift like Diet Pepsi, crackin’ wise in English class, nachos, internet videos, and doing impressions of the Sorting Hat from Harry Potter. I plan to watch Colbert and rock some popcorn later. Read up on a Palahniuk book I’ve started. It’s sitting on my shelf, it’s promising beginning only hinting at the literary delights below.
Fuck it, maybe I’ll just watch some great ultra-porn and go to bed.
That’s Business I Don’t Want to Believe
A man has been renovating our house for about 8 weeks now. It was supposed to start in September and end in September but he’s been very slowly chipping away at our cupboard designs, and my mom’s patience.
Today he finished. Sort of. Seems he was in a rush to get out of the job and he didn’t put the dishwasher in properly. So it flooded into the basement. Which is just another shitty thing to pile on top of the shitty things my parents have to shoulder. I have to come up with something. A spoonful of Jack Daniels every Friday night for all the hard things you had to put up with during the week. That should be a thing. Imagine a nation of people just spoonin’ a little sumthin’ into a glass and then sitting in their favorite armchair in the dark. I think I’m on to something.
But still, can you believe this? All this non-rushing and being careful and crowding our living space for ages just to end up flooding the place? Alas, poor Yorick, I guess that’s how shit goes these days. My Dad’s mighty furious, in that way Dads get from time to time, you know?
I went to the gym today, for the first time in what feels like forever. I’m stiff and sore now, especially in my chest and arms. But that’s just the way it is. I weighed myself before I started working out. 256 pounds. A brand-new personal wreckord. I know I haven’t been taking care of myself lately, but I didn’t think it got out of hand like that. But I’ve been really good today. No after dinner anything and no Pepsi, diet or otherwise. It’s boredom that’s the worst for it. If you’re bored, have a couple of chips. Go for a walk to the store. I’ve been bored tonight and today, but I fought the urge to go out and mess things up.
Deep down in me I wonder how long it will last. I’m in a good mood now. Things suddenly shifted gears. I don’t know what it was. Just…the weight’s gone. I’m not in turmoil. Just going on without the feelin’ anymore. It wastes time, there’s no point. I see it clearly now. I always complained I wasted my time on the computer but I wasted my time on the computer complainin’ about everything I saw and that’s what was getting me down the most. Just straight up negativity. I can find a lot of beauty in the world but I wouldn’t even try to look. So now I have something new to go on. It isn’t about hopes and dreams, but the ability to actually have them. That I’m not beaten down, broken or as bruised as I made myself out to be. That there might be a future ahead of me. We shall see, we shall see.
I bought FIFA 2005 for $2 last week, when I was trollin’ around Oakville eating Burger King like a terrible man. It’s a good game, playing for the Glasgow Rangers. Making sure the team wins and is at the top of the league and all of that. Haven’t played in a couple of days though. No big loss. I’m making the right time for the right things.
Alright, bedtime, and I’m sore.
No Compromises
Maybe I shouldn’t take life so seriously, you know? I like the idea of going at my own pace. How I have my big plan at the end of all things. Maybe I shouldn’t wallow, you know? I figured out my destiny, and what I have to do. So I’ll do it. I’ll get shit done. There’s no need complaining. No need to analyze and tear everything down. Its pointless. I only do it just for the fuck of it. Not really a smart or productive thing to do.
So whatever. Shrug it off, start again. Go with the flow, make it feel okay. Beating myself up over every little thing will get me nowhere. It’s a time waster, and I don’t have much time. I can’t compromise on victory or breakdowns. So what if customers suck? So what if life isn’t like everyone else is telling me its supposed to be? So what so what so what?
I keep writing. Keep doing homework. I’m making plans for the winter to see people. Hopefully still going to Cuba in the New Year. Its a foregone conclusion that I will make a movie, get a book published, get through school, make a name for myself. I’ll meet a girl and have a family. It’s the future I want to make happen. So rather than piss and moan that it hasn’t happened yet, I’ll make it happen. Come hell or high-water, whatever that means. I just know its the right thing to do. Its not easy, but
Went to the doctor today. Got my pill dosage upped. Got my blood tested. I’ll know the results when I know ‘em. I also got a haircut, which has immediate results and they’re not too shabby. Gone is the jewfroshag, and in its place is good ol’ fashioned preppy Wilson hair. Get some pomade up in that bitch. I also worked out today, so there you go. Making progress, no compromises.
Our Ecstatic Days
I lay on my bed all afternoon trying to figure it all out. I hate writing about this sort of shit, but if I don’t, it stays in me. Growing and agonizing like a bad shadow over my head. A constant nag.
My life, despite what sort of implications you can put behind it, and how lucky I am in the general sense, isn’t going the way it was planned. If there was ever a plan to begin with. My dad showed me photos from when I was a kid, ones that he had mysteriously found in the basement while rooting around for Christmas ornaments or whatever. I was fresh faced, with shaggy hair and a crooked smile.
It was weird to see them. I didn’t have glasses, didn’t have the facial hair or the dark circles under my eyes. If I look in the mirror now, I just look sick and tired. Sick and tired of being sick and tired. Worn out and beaten down by invisible, mostly imaginary forces. I can’t stress this enough the more I think about it, but there is something seriously wrong with me. I can’t be happy. I break promises. I fall in love with impossible people. I treat other people like assholes. I’m selfish. I lie. I take more than I give. I’m a constant boon to my parents and to the people that know me, whether its work or home or school or whatever.
I printed off my list. My big to-do list of things I want to accomplish before I die. It’s 116 pages long. And it sits there, barely moving, barely changing or being completed. The things I do cross off are neglible. Inconsequential. I am not living my dreams, and if I can be cliched just a touch, its becoming kind of a nightmare.
I just had dinner, a real honest family affair at the big glass table. My mom said that I never live up to my own expectations and that I betray myself constantly. Its why I’m depressed all the time. Thanks mom, I know. Can I get a solution? Don’t berate me about my room not being as clean as it could be and turning it around to my problems.
I have this faint glimmer of a future in the distance. I know what I want, but it’ll be so long and hard to get there that I just want to give up. A totally shitty feeling that the one thing I really want to do is five or six years down the road. That’s if I’m good, of course. That’s no junk food and no DVDs and all of that. So we’ll see or we won’t see.
This isn’t really going anywhere. Its the same old same old. But there’s none of that “tomorrow will be a better day” shit I usually throw in because I’m just too tired or apathetic to even try. I’m giving up. And I’m also long-gone. No more blogs, no more Facebook, nothing for a while. Its just not in me anymore.
I Might Be Wrong
I am at my laptop, which sits on my nice desk in my room. Behind me, discarded clothes sit on the floor, ignored until I pick them up and do as I please. My bed is made, but not very nicely. My backpack has my school books in it. I will soon pull them out and work on taking notes and studying for my test on Wednesday. I’ll probably start pounding away at the two major essays I have due next week as well.
A bottle of Diet Pepsi is to my right, with the big word “GO” printed on the side of the bottle. A bottle of Diet Pepsi is forcing energy on to me. I just don’t feel it right now. Maybe its supposed to be a “Lazy Sunday” or whatever, but I’m just down and out. Kind of grumpy today. Because that’s not new. Nothing’s new. I need a change. Of pace. Of scenery. Of commentary.
Maybe that’s why I loved Halloween. I got out of the house and got tipsy and saw buddies. It was a responsibility free day. I like that no responsibility thing – who doesn’t? – but I’ve made it a bad habit that I’m only truly happy when there are no responsibilities ever. That’s no way to think. I should be happy that I have the power and the opportunity to have a job and go to school and all of that.
But then that worries me too. That way of thinking where I have to force myself to be happy because I’m not in a terrible situation. It’s selfish to say this, but man, it shouldn’t be that way. Everybody should be happy all the time, regardless of their situation. Of course I’m going to be in a different section or class of people than, say, a child soldier in some hellhole country. But I’m unhappy despite my advantages and I’m not going to continue bolstering myself by being like that. If I was a child soldier then maybe I could compare myself to other child soldiers, but I’m not. Middle-class, going to school, regular job, white. So when I compare myself to other middle-class, going to school, regular job, white people…why do they seem happier than me?
I always feel like there’s something wrong with me, at every turn. Everyone else is having a good time, why not me? Am I dumb or something? Is my head so far up my ass I can’t just enjoy myself? I don’t know. I may never know.
I’m perservering. Not out of wanting to improve myself, as previously mentioned or wanted, but just because there’s really nothing else to do except do that. So I go on. Need a change.
Making Up For All This Mess
Last night was interesting, to say the least.
Or not interesting at all if you look at it in any detail.
I’d like to say that some hopes and dreams kind of fumbled and crumbled at my hands. Dust and debris around my feet. Sad songs to play on the computer before I went to sleep. Strange feeling, strange feeling. I’m a hypocrite for feeling this way, but I liked her, I really did. I still do. I fell for her while I was with another girl. And last night I kind of realized that I’m a blip. Not the romance I wanted, you know? Kind of like what she was saying.
She said she doesn’t fit into these prescribed boxes people give her. That she didn’t know if she wanted some other guy she couldn’t see herself with. She couldn’t see herself as that happy-go-lucky-girlfriend to anyone. And the more I thought about it, the more it stung through me, resonating like a ringing bell. I was trying to fit her into a box. This little glimpse of what could have been and what was once a really great thing. I’d foisted this responsibility on her, one she didn’t even know about. I wanted her. I wanted to make her play that happy-go-lucky-girlfriend thing with me. More importantly, I wanted to make her happy. Make her smile and laugh and share these little tiny moments you imagine when you’re crushing on someone. I had this idea that I’d just get on a train and meet up with her and it would be romantic in that old-school Clark Gable kind of way.
And that’s horseshit. She doesn’t need that with anybody, let alone me. A guy that’s hours away and barely managing to keep his sanity going. I’m not good with day-to-day life. I’m not good with women – I’m either too much of a smartass or too emo – and something made me think that it was going to be different this time around. But it isn’t. I’m not her white knight, I’m not anybody. She doesn’t even want a white knight. She doesn’t know what she wants.
It sounds like I’m mad and furious and wah-wah-emo, but I’m actually kind of relieved. Relieved that I don’t necessarily have to keep pining and going on and on about lost this-and-that. It’s a shruggable thing, a weight off the shoulders. Every day is exactly the same. I still like her immensely, but its different now. Its not desperate or lonely or misinformed. Its not going to make everything so incredibly magical that unicorns sprout out of our asses and Harry-Fucking-Potter owns the pub down the road. It’s just there. Its more pure. It’s the purest I’ve felt about anything in a while. No regrets. No novelty-fading-away. No stipulations or catches. I like her a lot, and if it has to be one-sided, then so be it. Its not a tragedy or a comedy. Its not some fucked up shit that changes my world or her world.
I’m a master of grand statements, and then burying those statements into the ground. Julie. Meagan. How sick are we – am I? – of hearing about them, going back to them? Its pointless. It is what it is, and nothing’s going to change it. I feel a little more zen. Whatever, dawg. Go with the flow. Nothing’s negative, there’s only a million shades of positive. Its the same with this girl. Shes wonderful. Shes everything I could ever want in a million years. But today’s just another Friday. Tomorrow’s just another Saturday. The world’s still turning, I’m still breathing.
And I go on. The future’s so bright I have to wear shades and SPF 120. Things are happening, big things. Just thinking about them makes me smile, knowing I have a little tiny secret. And its onwards and upwards I guess. I’ve disappointed for too long. I’ve been stationary or backpeddling for far too long. She’s my little secret inspiration that makes me want to be a better person. And you’re gonna love the new me.
Headaches/Heartaches Part 2
I’m still in the library, any interest in anything is waining quite strongly. There is a pretty girl sitting next to me but that doesn’t matter, does it. She looks like a math student which makes her smarter than me which immediately makes her incredibly intimidating. My homework is also intimidating, because I just can’t make myself do it. I tried yesterday, going to the library and everything, but that didn’t work. Another try at the library and I still can’t make myself do it. Weird and wacky.
Maybe I am a giver-upper, maybe I am a quitter. Maybe I’m not cut out for school, let alone “honors” school, where everything matters ten times more. Curse McDonald’s and it making me complacent in things.
But not really. I wrote part of script. I was doing something that severely interested me, that I was motivated for. Fuck 16th Century Anglo-Norman relations. Writing a script is where the party’s at. So I did that. It went from 8 pages to about 25 in about an hour. It’s not very good, but first drafts are hardly ever good. I wonder if I can sell it. I’m setting it in Toronto, so maybe I can.
Even this blog shows that I’m in more of a writing mood. I’m expunging and going crazy bananas with this business. I can sit and stare at my agenda and not know where to start, but get me typing and I’m endless inspiration and motivation. I must be an idiot-savant or something, the Rain Man of being a lazy writer.
It wasn’t all fun and games, however, and it won’t continue to be fun and games. I think I just need a change of location. The same desk-like-thing day in and out is starting to wear thin. I need some fresh air, that much is certain. I honest to goodness want to be productive every day but I look at my tasks that I have to do and I just go “meh”. Have you ever had that “meh” thing, but like, all the time? I guess I’m the opposite of my sister. House-buying, conference-going, dinner-making, job-completing Carolyn. I think she got the motivation for success gene and I got none of it. Maybe I’m just a fat lazy wanker.
Remember when I pronounced that November was going to be a kickass month. Its not going that way so I’m moving it to December for convenience sakes. It’s just more free than November, with more days to do more things and not as much school. So it’ll be a “December to Remember” from now on. It helps that Christmas will be coming up and aid in the proceedings of making things kickass. I want to, I want to, I want to so badly and madly.
The left side of my mouth hurts. I bit into a lollipop and it did almost no favors, especially the gum. It hurts to push my teeth down all the way. Total agony. That’ll learn me good in terms of what I can and can’t eat. Seems like my body is always suffering something, whether its a cold or sore jaw or just straight up flabbyness. I’m probably going to be dead by the end of the year, or the end of next year if you want to make a safe guestimate.
Alright, I need a change of scenery. I need to stretch my legs and learn how to focus just a little bit more.
I don’t think I’ll be blogging for a while. It seems to hold me back. I know I’ve said that before but whatever. You’ve had a brief window for now, I need some respite from the “public eye” – hah! – and to get back to basics. I don’t know what the basics are just yet but I’ll figure that business out when I need to. Which is pretty much right now.
Headaches/Heartaches
Its another day I suppose. I’m awake, I’m ready to go. Sort of, maybe, I don’t know. I’m crashing from breakfast. I didn’t sleep well. Dreamt cars were crashing all around me. Dreamt that ladybugs were everywhere. Woke up feeling strange, didn’t know where I was for a few moments. Remember getting a phone call around 9 last night asking me if I could work the overnight.
First they cut my shifts down to nothing and then they try to call me in on days I’ve booked off. They can go to hell. They can kiss my fat, jiggly ass. Its completely unfair, the way they treat us. They act like 12-year-olds. I get my shifts cut because I was forced to act out on getting my platinum card, something I shouldn’t have had to ask for, let alone 80 times. Is this a playground or a fucking business? Give me a break.
I don’t care if my managers read this. Get off your high horses and start cleaning that place up, just a little. If that means I’m thrown out, so be it. But its going to the dogs and there’s a reason why the other McDonaldses laugh at us.
Had a head rush there. Too much excitement. School’s the same. I can’t get enough of my science-fiction class. Great books, interesting lectures. It’s got it all. Unfortunately its tomorrow. I’m skipping my lectures and stuff today to do stuff. I don’t want to be a weiner, but I just want to chill in the library and take notes and get ahead on essays, and just basically do what I have to do. I could be hunched over in this seat for a while, bunkered down. Hunkered down. I don’t know the proper terminology. It’s actually kind of cute. A pile for books over here, my laptop in front of me, a bottle of Diet Pepsi. It’s like I’m ready for the homework apocalypse.
Today’s November 11th. So thank you Grandpa Tom. You got your finger shot off and lived in a POW camp for 7 months so I could be here today in a free world. Thank you for sacrificing your time and by extension your life to serve your country and the world. Thank you for taking it straight to Hitler and showing that asshole how Scotsmen do it. Thanks for fathering my dad and making him a cool dude I could emulate when I want to. If you’re watching me or reading this blog from beyond the cosmos, thanks a million times over.
I am growing a beard, and growing out my hair. It’s been about three days so I just look like a shaggy fool with a dirty face. More stubble than growth or anything. Keep it going keep it going keepitgoing because that’s what I feel like right now. I’ll also be dyeing my hair in the near future. Round and round it goes, where it stops nobody knows.
Sigh. Every day is starting to blend together. Homework this, movie that, fastfood what? I need to shake it up a notch or something because a person can only go on so long doing this sort of thing. I know I’m supposed to look at my homework and say “yay another day of it!” but I’m looking at it now and it looks about as appealing as a cold hamburger. Just sitting there all lonely on the plate with you making that face that shows off your disgust and contempt. Blech.
Onwards and upwards, keep it going mattress man because this is what you’re here for.
I Am Trying To Believe
Another day and I’m still tired. Studied all day yesterday, only breaking to watch some downloaded tee-vee shows. Originally wrote it as tee-vee shoes. On the balcony in the cafeteria before it gets too busy. Headphones on. Still too cool to take off my jacket. Recognized some people from English class. Elenora, if that’s how you spell it.
Lots of pain behind my eyes from lack of sleep. Stressed and anxious. I have a test but that doesn’t matter. I don’t mind writing tests, but they make the environment more sterile and that’s what makes me more nervous about it. I’m more afraid of my cellphone going off or being accused of cheating than I am at flunking. More worried I’ll make a scene. But oh well.
I wish girls would get the memo that tattoos on your breasts makes you look trashy and disgusting, but I guess that’s why girls who are already fat and trashy as hell get them. Mariola had one and she was the definition of trashy. Guys are supposed to be mainly attracted to breasts, so why fuck up a good thing by putting a cheap looking spiderweb on them, or your ex-boyfriend’s name in cursive right above the areola? Just another way of being loud and obnoxious I guess.
Wonder when my time will come. When am I going to be heroic. When I was in Mexico, a guy spit on my chest and I didn’t do anything. Just minced off like a nerd in an 80s teen comedy. Should have decked him, slammed his head into the ground. Broken his jaw. But that’s not very heroic, not very white knight. Wonder if this is psychotic behaviour. Wonder where these thoughts come from. I’m pretty sure mom and dad raised me right.
What I need right now is Sayulita. On the beach in a deckchair next to a bar that will give me margaritas at 11AM. Simple, clay-red bedroom. Open window, heat all the time. No internet, no phone, no school, nothing. Breathe in deep and smell that air. Cuba can’t come soon enough, in my opinion. If I ever end up going. I have reservations about it. Nothing serious, just the issue of money and if I want to take anybody. Worried that some scamster will correctly pin me as a complete sucker and I’ll wake up in some Cuban motel with one of my eyes missing. I’ll be in a bathtub full of ice with a hangover and some full-bodied chola will be screaming at me in Spanish or whatever to get the fuck out of her place.
The mind, it wanders.
I am trying to believe that I have faith in the human race right now. It’s hard not to be cynical, not after my run-in with the loy-yer on Saturday. Not that I don’t have faith, I’m just tired, I don’t know. I don’t love it, I don’t hate it, I just want to leave it. If I wasn’t such a pansy I’d move to the middle of the desert, or the woods. Shit in a hole in the ground and use my backyard as a garden or whatever so I wouldn’t have to talk to anybody. Snoopy’s cousin Spike lived in a cactus and had a hat. I could wear a hat. Get dysentary or the pimp skitters from eating too many peppers and cheap food. Constant masterbation because there’s nothing else to do and nothing to lose.
I feel guilty for sleeping with Norah on Halloween. I’m sure she’s a nice person, and her bad luck made her meet me. I was fucked up, lonely and weird in the middle of a packed dancefloor. I didn’t do anything that she didn’t want to do, that’s for sure, but it’s still messed up and messy. Wish things were simpler. Wish I wasn’t 24 and staring down the barrel of a gun. Ugh. That could account for a lot of the perversion. You only live once, right? Eat as much Wendy’s Spicy Chicken and fuck as many people as possible because you’ve got one chance before you cash your ticket and get on with things. It’s that sort of thinking that’s ruinous, adds to the laziness and the apathy.
But you have to go on, and that’s that. Makes me want to be reckless. Makes me want to walk up to someone and just hit them to see what would happen. Makes me want to look at the girl on the bus and make rude gestures and smirk and be mean to her. Makes me want to shoot heroin and never give a fuck ever. But of course there’s the flipside to the coin. Makes me want to be nicer and be a better person and all of that. I guess I have a soul then, if that’s the case. If I want to be good that must mean I have something worth giving to people. I am trying to believe.
