Today Was A Fucking Joke.

All 20 hours of it.

Something happened in the time period of 9pm Saturday night and 2am Sunday morning that I'm still not even sure about. The only thing that I can imagine happened, is that I didn't meet some impossible goal or whatever standard - or leave a certain type of impression that was expected of me. It's all so confusing right now.

48 hours of complete opposite feelings from a person. The term 'Night and Day' taken literally.

Friday couldn't have been more perfect. Could it?

I don't even want to write anymore.

Things and Stuffs.

There's nothing like being beat at your own game. You just can't be pissed. And anything beyond just going with the flow and waiting things out is defeat. Sometimes you want to just wave the white flag and surrender, but they've got you beat, and they ain't takin' no fucking prisoners.

I'm such a masochist. I want to create more silly scenarios just to get on your bad side...it's so wrong of me, I know. Truthfully though, I just love passion...preferably served boiling fucking hot. The faster our hearts are beating and the more I stutter, choking on all the wrong things to say while your eyes are burning through my soul, the better. It's the mental equivalent of being slapped in the face, and pushed over the kneeling bully you didn't know was right behind you, all within one motion. But I love it. I can't tell you why, or how, or what made me love this self torture...I just do. But don't get me wrong, I like the good stuff too...it's all a balance I guess.

There's nothing wrong with speaking the truth. Given our openness, and our histories that have crossed paths more than a handful of times, we both know enough shit about the other to expect an adventure. Would you honestly expect any less from the dude who wears his wacky life experiences on his sleeve like a badge of honor? My mouth is big, a size 10W to be exact, and my foot fits in it like a perfect fitting pair of Vans. It's not the first, and hopefully not the last, time you get to help me shove it in for me. If that's not love, I don't know what is.

I'm honestly more in love with you now than I ever have been. I'm a strange one, I know.

The Past Week

This is going to a long, more in-depth version of the 'I'm Pushing 30' post I made a couple of weeks ago. So, if you're not really into reading a self-loathing pity party type crybaby fest, I suggest you just skip this whole thing and wait till next time. I'm sure my next post will have something to do with pizza and fun, or something like that. For everyone sticking it out, hopefully, at the very least, you'll feel a little better about yourself for not being me after you're done reading this. Who am kidding? We all hate ourselves. Ha.

***

Ah, 2008. The year I had it all figured out. Before the new year I bought one of those dry erase calender board things that you're supposed to plan your life to, erasing it all at the start of a new month to plan out what's coming up next - mine still has February written wrong at the top of it. Just another New Years Resolution left unresolved. Does that last sentence even make sense? Who cares, anyhow. I guess what I'm trying to say is: What started out as a year of accomplishing goals, just ended up like all the rest - a list full of lofty ideas and plans that either barely got started and were left reaching for my attention, or never even left my brain, left to rot and eventually be forgotten. Just like last year, ya know?

I don't know where I'm getting at...actually I do know, I just don't want to go there. Not here at least. I mean, this isn't exactly a diary. I can name 5 people very close to me who are going to read this once they get an email telling them I made a new blog post. And maybe only one of those five knows me well enough not to care, or better yet, not call or write me to tell me it's okay. I know it's okay. Just let me do it.

Can I break this up by saying that this some serious LiveJournal.com bullshit? Okay.

Where was I? oh yeah, pity party...

Imagine all your hopes and dreams, goals, and everything else that gets you out of bed in the morning as air in the tires of your bike. Now imagine riding your bike through that field with the bushes that have the spikey thorns in it. The one you always forget about until you're actually riding through it getting yet another flat tire. I guess you can say that I'm getting tired of patching up the tubes.

That's pretty much all of it without going into detail. Sorry for the tease, really, I am. I just got a little shy. Maybe I should choose a new path, clear of that fucking field, right? That's where I'm at right now. Yep, pretty much.