Subtle As The Wind Is Grey

I don't understand myself. Every year and every day it gets more and more apparent that I can't do anything for myself. I can't motivate myself, I can't make enough money, I can't decide what makes me happy, I can't put a finger on what makes me sad, I don't know who I still care about and why (except for Alex), and most of all I can't seem to change in any sort of significant way. I feel like I'm constantly standing in the middle of a teeter-totter. Sure sometimes life goes up and down, but overall it doesn't seem to make a difference to me because from where I'm standing up or down are interchangeable. And the worst part is I'm aware of my ineptitude.

My professor nominated me for yet another district contest I won't win. Cool.

I'm too negative.

There are days, like today, when I wonder how much I really need all this. I think of salmon fishing in Alaska or oil rigs in Texas and damn my studies. You can make somewhere around $150,000 doing either one of those things for a year. And they pay your living expenses and give you a monthly stipend to use at your discretion. Fuck CGCC, fuck ASU, fuck my career plan. All I need to do is work out and buy a one-way plane ticket.

Someone sitting close to me is wearing that Got2BeGlued hair gel stuff and I keep smelling it. It's like going in a time warp back to freshman summer camp with EVBC. There are few things I miss more than those summer camps. It's a shame that that life and that security had to end. But it was inevitable. I'm much too weak to keep up with something that requires such strength. Or at the very least I'm much too unmotivated. But every time I smell that hair gel or eat soft serve ice cream or see a Bible I'm at least back in Point Loma for a little while. I recently turned in a story for my CRW170 class mainly concerned with religion. The main characters end up having an argument out God and fairness in general and even as I was writing it I couldn't figure out whose side I was on. Even going back and editing that scene and rereading it a hundred times I'm still on the fence. But like I said earlier, that's just how I live.

Letting The Days Go By, Let The Water Hold Me Down

Finally. I got everything straightened out with my last class at school, I have enough money for everything due at the end of the month, and I can finally stop stressing. Today is probably the first day in awhile where I feel like I have my future and my present under control. I spend so much of my time worrying and stressing over things that really don't matter. If my class wouldn't have been figured out or I didn't have enough money for rent and insurance or I had no future at any collegiate university, I'd still have way more than enough. I have a family that loves me to death, good friends I can rely on who love me too, and three cats that will always live by their personalities, even if that means peeing on our couch and shitting on the outside of the kitty litter box. Obla-di, Obla-da.

If You Want It, Here It Is, Come And Get It

Chris is moving in by March 1st. Needless to say I'm pretty stoked.

I'm starting to fail at things and not get upset about it. That scares the living shit out of me. It used to be I wouldn't let myself fail at even the most trivial things. It got to the point where it started becoming a problem for me. I'd be overly competitive at family card games and get so frustrated I'd ruin the game for everyone. I remember being in the fourth grade and crying when my cousin beat me in 1 on 1 for the first time (he never beat me again until ninth grade, and you better believe that was a lucky break). In sixth grade I sat in class and fought back tears when I got a C on a science project (the project involved a lot of coloring, which, to me, in sixth grade, seemed a little below my advanced years). Point is, I was a nerd, a perfectionist, and as stubborn as a fourteen-year-old mule with arthritis. Now I'm lazy, slightly incompetent, and apathetic. And I think I just channeled my grandfather with that whole weird mule simile. I've got real troubles.

You Can Put Me In a Coma, You Can Put Me Down

Some website said I've been alive for more than seven thousands days already. Yikes. What I really want to know is how many of those I've spent on the couch watching football. Success if different for all of us I guess.

Sometimes when I'm done with school but waiting to go to work I go to my parent's house and walk around, watch T.V., eat, maybe even take a shower. It's so strange to be in that house alone now. It used to feel like home. Now home is somewhere else, and it's not my new house. It's not in my old car, or sitting in a class I hate. It's not Gilbert, it's not Tempe, it's not my grandparent's house or my aunt's house or any friend's house. It's difficult to live with a constant feeling of uneasiness, like you're never where you're supposed to be. It makes it harder for me to be rational. Harder to be sober. Harder to write. Harder to read. Harder to just simply sit somewhere and enjoy myself. Maybe another seven thousand days and I'll find a new place to call home. Just somewhere I can sit.

Bulimic Vegetarian Wins Weight Contest

Motherfuck this bullshit.

I hate waking up when it's completely dark to come to a school I can't stand filled with people I want to avoid all doing things I don't really care about and constantly talking about the things they're doing that I don't really care about. It's times like these I want to kill whoever made it illegal to smoke inside. No more 1950's movies.

Sorry, I'm sick so I'm cranky.

In the Quivering Forest, Where the Shivering Dog Rests

"I always told Say So that bouldering wasn't for beginners but he wouldn't listen. He fell on the splat mat three times before he ever got second and third footholds. It's like he was searching for perfect shelves and counters without ever wanting to rely on his fingertip strength or flexibility. Sometimes you just don't know what you aren't capable of. Say So always was a Type A. Sometimes you just don't know how little you are capable of."

These hardened corners angle slight streets
and alley's take what's left, oh you of weak knees