A Family Affair.

Today I recieved a phone call from my cousin. In this phone call I discovered a little more information relating to a situation that has haunted my past.





This is a subject matter some may not want to read. So, Take that into consideration before continuing.



I don't talk about this often. It's something that only a few people know. It's something I've been ashamed of most of my life. But, I'm learning that if I don't talk about it, and let it out.....then it consumes me like it has.

I can't be ashamed anymore. I need to move on.



At one time, I wrote about this...in extreme details. It was a decision I made cause I was angry with someone, and I wanted them to feel bad for making me feel bad. This is different. I write this solely to get it out. Because at this time, there are no ears available. No shoulder near.



The person that I love, is out of state for the holidays. It's difficult to finally have someone again, and.....then have to spend the holidays alone....And, being alone...I tend to over analyze things. Dwell, and pick myself apart. This disturbing news came at the worst time possible. So..I come here.

My escape from reality. My minds' lair of hope and faith.



So, yeah.



When I was very young I was molested by a family member. It occured repeatedly, and was something that scared me tremendously. I was bribed into silence, and...as a small child I believed that what I was gaining, was more than what I was sacrificing.

As a small child, growing up without siblings or friends...I found myself alone. Alot. Always playing by myself.

A family member started offering to play with me, as long as he could.....well..play with me.

As much as I grew to be afraid of it, and hate it....A part of me liked that someone was there for me.



I grew to hate this person with my every fiber. For years I spent my time blaming everything I did in my life on him. My every failure. My every fall.

It's something I never really let go of. As an adult, I understood more that it was wrong, and I never understood why it happened. Why it continued.



In 2001, after keeping it hidden from my family for my entire life...I decided the time had come to tell my father what had happened to me.

He was using drugs when it all occured, I wanted him to know what happened.



I went to the laundromat with him, and while our clothes were washing, I took him outside into the car, and I replayed for him the events that had scarred my childhood.

He cried. And I cried. And he said that he needed to tell me something.



He admitted that when that was happening to me, he was using drugs heavily, and....was doing the same thing to the person that was doing it to me.



I've never seen so much shame in someones eyes. I've never been so frozen silent. And, I've never cried with such intensity.

It became the moment I'd always wanted. I understood why it happened to me.

I've never been so disappointed in someone. I've never been so ashamed.



Every moment I spent hating the person, became a moment I had to redirect everything. Can I hate someone, who did something to me, in revenge for something that had been done to them? Is that completely fair?

I've struggled with it.

Today I learned that my father left out some details. And I learned that the person that did this, isnt sorry for what he did. He doesn't even recognize it. It's as if it doesnt exist in his world. Just something that happened like a ...flat tire. Or when the lead in your pencil breaks.

He thinks that I deserved it. He said, to someone else. That he would do it agn, because he needed to take it out on someone.



I can forgive certain things. I can throw a blind eye to people hurting me, and things of that nature.

But it's incredibly devastating when something so horrible happens to someone, and the people that cause feel no remorse.

Not even enough shame, to not talk about it to other people.



And...it is for that reason...that I truly say this person can rot in hell.

If anyone could understand how I feel, and what I went through, it would be him. Unfortunately.....he doesnt. And for that, I no longer hate him. I pity him.

Dreamscapes

I've always closely related spirituality, and the realm of the paranormal.

And, growing up with alot of religious strings attached to me, I've always felt close to both subjects.

In my lifetime, I've had some crazy things happen to me, that some might consider unexplainable. I've had some paranormal experiences that some might consider a product of someones' imagination..or, an exaggeration of sorts.

A few years ago, I got wrapped up into this game. The "Ouija board". And, ever since...the strangest things started happening to me. Especially in my sleep.

Occasionally, when I was younger, I'd dream of random events, then...later they'd happen. And, I always battled with my horrible nightmares. Waking me in the middle of the night.

It seemed for the longest time, that they seemed to cease as long as someone was next to me. Anyone.

Over the years they've come and gone...sometimes they're scary. Sometimes not as much.

But in some form, its something that never goes away. And, it seems it grows more....intense as time goes by.

Lately I've been having these random flashes. Of things happening. Mostly, to people that I've never met before.
I'm not asleep...and in fact..my eyes arent even fully closed. And, it freaks me out.
Something about seeing a random face all bloody and crying..that...gives you the heebie jeebies.

This morning I took a nap, and had some alarming dreams. Other than..some creepy looking things...I was the only person in the dreams... I'd be called different names of people I know and care about, and different scary scenarios seemed to play out...leading to unpleasant outcomes.

At the end of my last dream..there was something that said "4:44" and "help me". (lol)

I woke up....freaked out..and stayed awake.
Tonight, upon going to sleep...I started dreaming.
I was awake in my dream. I was reading the newspaper while P was asleep. Then all of a sudden an alarm clock went off. I glanced, it was 4:44...and I started hearing all of these blood curdling screams. And it was almost like...I went backwards.....I started seeing all these things...different people I'd never seen dying.
Flashes of the Halocaust. Children being forced to do things...Different things from my childhood. My grandmothers face. It just kept going.
I knew I was asleep..And I desperately wanted to wake up because it was scaring me.
Finally I woke up...and seemed to instantly jump in bed.
I was panicked. And scared.
And, now I'm writing this because I was afraid that if I went right to sleep..I'd fall back into it.

I don't believe that theres this big giant marshmallow man...kinda paranormal...but, I do think theres things that happen that have no explanation. Things of spirits, and ghosts that are here for whatever reason.
However, when things like this enter your dream world, you find yourself thinking.. "oh my fucking god...this is a scary movie waiting to happen...soon im gonna start contacting spirits, moving things with my mind...turning into a witch with Fairuza Bulk, seeing (more) dead people...and eventually spening my time in an insanse asylum...where i'll get sucked into my mattress ala Johnny Depp in Nightmare on Elm St."

I'm dramatic.

Anyway..I'm done now. Just had to vent.
Though..I'm paranoid about this 4:44 thing...lol.
Maybe I'm watching too much LOST.
*doom doom*

Me.

My entire life, I've fought a battle against feeling not good enough. Due to my upbringing, my circumstance. People I've loved, People I've lost. Those I've known and cared for, even those I've disliked or hated with every ounce of my being. I'm one giant ball of self esteem dysfunction.
I've never been with someone, who pointed out my good qualities. I've never found anyone that understood the makings of who I am, and tried to help me get past them.
I've never been told how beautiful my eyes get when I speak from my heart. I've never been told how much it hurts someone to see my eyes drowning in themselves.
I've never been told that I make someone happy.

Instead my life is littered with shortcomings.
I've been told I'm not good enough, I'm not cute enough. I'm not as good at this, I'm not as great as him. I'm too this, I'm too that.
I've never just been....enough.

More than one person has told me how mean I am. How hateful, and angry I am. I've always been made to feel that I'm the meanest person they've met. I make people feel bad. I make people feel like shit. I make people hurt.
I get this all the time. I've gotten this since I can remember.
I have been the fall guy for all things. I have ruined this, I have ruined that. And, if anything has been constant, it is that I am one at fault for everything.
I have handled this, repeatedly. It it etched into my mind. It's become a part of me. Like, my elbow. My conscience. My pinky toe. My eardrum. My epididymitis.
I have learned to accept it, despite my efforts to pretend its false.
I have over the years become hard on myself. I've become paranoid in all things. I've become used to failure, and hurt. And I've come to expect those things.
I've taken every word. I've carried it with me. Attached in my mind. Sewn around my heart. Driven into my hands.
I've made my self crucifixations. And, truth be told, I've grown to hate myself because of it.
I've grown to believe that all I will ever do, is hurt people.
I feel like a poison. A virus. A shadow lurking about. Preying upon the people around me. Feeding off whatever hardships I bring upon them.
I'm in constant search of solace. In something, in anything. Someone to make me feel safe. Someone to make me feel important. A feat noone has been capable of..my entire life. And when they've come close...I've attacked them. I've unleased a monster upon them. A monster, that is me.

I feel like noone knows me. Like noone gets me. Everyone spends so much time telling me all the bad things about myself...I feel like the good ones get lost. I feel like, How can I be anything more, than what I've been labeled.

I don't know if people get that...I have feelings also. I have problems, and I have faults. I admit that.
I get hurt too. For everytime I've been told that I make people feel like shit that I care about, I feel like shit. I beat myself up more...and become even harder on myself.

I've grown to hate my every fiber. The way I look, the way I act. The ways that have formed who I am.
I used to tell myself, that all I had was my heart. If anything, I had that. I felt I was one of the most loving and caring people, that one could meet. Sure, I mask it behind this huge giant asshole, that doesn't care what people think.
But when you really look at it, Acceptance from someone is all I've ever really been after. It's something I've never really had. It's my one true thing.
It seems the harder I search, the further I get.
And all I seem to evoke is hurt and sadness. My heart has become a product of the rest of me. And, that makes me cry.
It makes me hurt, to know that....hurt is the only thing I can accomplish. Anger, is all I can achieve.

I get so tired of this way. This person I am.
I wish I wasn't me. I wish I didn't need so much from people, and in return give them nothing but negativity.
I wish I didn't need so much love, and devotion.

I wish I was easier to love. I wish the people that I loved in my lifetime, didn't always find it so hard to love me back. Whether truth or not...I always feel like the worst thing in peoples' lives.
Harboring nothing but anger and fear....how can I bring anyone anything good?

For anyone reading this that knows me. Anyone who cares. Anyone whom loves me. And, anyone that I love, or have loved in return...
I can only give you my sincerest apologies. I'm sorry, that my hatred, and my pain...has been afflicted upon any of you in any way, shape, or form.
I'm sorry that I can't be your glimmer of hope. Your reason to stand.
I apologize if I can't be the friend you need. The smile you look for, or the heart you desire.
I regret that I'll never be good enough. Not for anyone. Not for myself.

Though there are those that may adhere to.... This is about me. No other

I'm filled with nothing but hurt. And its turned me into someone I hate.
The heart I once declared a beautiful thing....has been held to my eyes with a magnifying glass of my own accord.
And I can see why I'm only defined by my negatives.
I'm fresh out of anything else.
Everyone thinks I treat them like assholes. I've never had a lover, or a friend who hasn't said it, or implied it. I accept that.
And, because of it....I've torn myself down. I've battled myself so fiercely....that there isn't anything left.
MY confidence. The beauty one might find in my words, or my eyes. My thoughts and ideas. It's gone. All of it.

I truly am the person everyone thinks I am.
And I treat myself worse than any other because of it. My heart is drained.
I no longer pray for peace with myself, or love. Or laughter.
I pray for release. I'm unable to prove people wrong. Everyone else wins.

I treat people like no other. But believe me. It comes at a steep price.
The love for myself.
No aspect of me has ever been enough. As a family member. As a friend. As a love.
I have been told this. I have been shown this. These are things I know.
And knowing that you can never be good enough....is the absolute..worst feeling I can describe.
All I can say is I'm sorry. To all of you that know me.
I'm a giant fucking asshole. Who treats people like shit. And..I'm really...fucking sorry.
This entire blog has been written with my eyes watering. Every 45 seconds I stop to wipe it away with this kitchen towel. Though, its technically a bath towel...

*shrug*
This...is who I am.

Testicles. Spectacles. Wallet and Watch.

It's been awhile since I've updated. I moved the blog from myspace, and then dropped off the face of the Earth for a few weeks. Though,I'll have you know it wasn't from lack of desire. I've been either too busy, or too tired to sit down and write anything. When I did try, it came out like extremely long cat turd. (or...something?)
So, I deleted and figured I'd wait for the time to find me, and not vice versa.
I guess, the moment is now.

For once, I decided to fore-go the "stereotypical-of-Nick" holiday time blog. (Though...theres always X-mas coming up for those of you who like to read about me wallowing in self pity)
Over the last several years, I've went to dinner at my roomates' families' house. This year, however I didnt.

We first went to some friends' of mine, then some friends' of his. It was a good day, and for the first time in a long time, I didn't feel like I was infringing upon anyone elses' traditions. (even though thats never been the case...I always tend to feel like I am...even when it's obvious that I'm welcome) It may not seem like a big thing, and...in reality I guess it isn't. But, it made me feel better about myself. My holiday was more than a "you've got nowhere else to go...so you can come here" kind of thing. While I love and appreciate the family that has welcomed me over the years....it's kind of nice to feel like less of a crutch.
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Testicles:

Last year while at work, I had this painful sensation (not a good one) in my testicle area. Being a worry wart I assumed the worst, hoped for the best, and waited for it to go away. After it didnt, I saw myself in the waiting room at the hospital to get it checked out. (There was a blog about this debacle on my myspace page...I won't get into it again) I was given some Ibuprofen 800, and sent on my merry way with the assurance that....everything was fine, they could find nothing.
Over the last year, the pain has come and gone in brief stints, but being the son of my mother whom always worried about every single thing to a crazy extreme...

me: I have a headace..I've had it for two days
crazy mother: Oh my god nick...what if you have a tumor...it could be a tumor. You should go get it looked at, my brothers' fourth sons' best friends' dogs' former owner had a tumor...he died. You can die from it.

...I've been convinced that this pain is inevitably going to be the death of me.
With it coming and going at random intervals, it's hard to determine just when death will strike. Finally after dealin with it for so long...I went to the ER again.
The same procedures were taken, basically the only difference was that instead of having a doctor that joked too much, I had a pervy looking doctor.
You know the kind. He's like that one uncle you have, that noone talks to. The one that sleeps in a waterbed, but without the water in it...just on the wood. The type of guy that feeds birds in the park, but not because he cares.....but so that he can watch little Jimmy and his sister on the teeter totter...going up and down...up and down...up and down. Then he goes home, jacks off into a sock, and spends the next three hours watching Star Trek and praying.
My doctor....was that guy. Only, fatter and scarier. And, short.
At one point, after going through all the sexual questions "are you sexually active...do you use protection.....do you have any stds" (yes, typically........, and no) he stops....turns around, looks at me, and... (i quote)
"Are you a top or a bottom"

I'm used to that question on gay.com, or dirtyskanksforactionintheparkrightnow.org.....but not from my doctor. The man I'd entrust my tumor with. The man who determines whats wrong with my testicles.
The horror!

After getting an ultrasound on my testicles.. (which..is another uncomfortable procedure..which occured at hospital visit numero uno as well)
" hold your penis back with this towel please" "move your penis to the right side please" "press down as if you were straining to have a bowel movement".
I found myself wondering if anyone ever had the shits before they went in, bit down "as if they were straining to have a bowel movement" and...actually...had a bowel movement....how horrible.
"no....no testicular cancer sir..but you did hit our ultrasound technician in the face. what kinda shit is that"!?!

Ulimately, after looking at my ultrasound results....they found a small cyst on the Epididymitis. (whatever that is) They assured me it's nothing to worry about, fairly common, and probably won't require any sort of attention in the future. It's uncomfortable, but nothing that requires surgery, or...even medication apparently...because they gave me nothing. No antibiotics...no pain pills....just a piece of paper saying where I can follow up at, and a big "hahaha...we just sucked 500 dollars out of you for nothing you stupid cyst on yer epididiwhateveritis havin sucker!" written in invisible ink.

How does one not get pain pills?!?! Why do they make you pick a number on the "chart-o-pain" if when a number over 5 is given....you still get no pills?!!?!?
I mean..I'm not a pill kinda guy either, but if choosing between being a pill guy, or a horrible pain in the testicle guy...gimme the pills bitch.
I had to call off of work the next morning so that I could go get my results. I'm pretty sure that people at work think I made the whole thing up, which...pisses me off, and makes me chuckle at the same time. I tried explaining to a customer who said that people are irritated because i called off, that..I'm poor. dirt poor. I have more experience working in a bar, than our actual manager....and am still working crappy shifts where I make no money. I can't afford to call off because I'm tired or lazy. If I'm calling off, there's a reason for it. If you don't believe it, lick my cyst, fuck yourself and die. And, if you can't handle having to come in when there's an emergency without talking shit.....then take my shifts and shove them up your snobby fucking ass. :)
----
Spectacles:
Speaking of work....Is it all jobs, or just ones involving bars, booze, and a bunch of assholes who think they're better than everyone?
The latest work debacle, is someone that works there....decided it would benefit them, if they got into the pad-locked freezer and steal 140 dollars worth of fish. (proving they're stupid...a crimer, and....just gross...)
The first defense I could come up with, and...only one needed...was "well...it wasnt me...I dont eat fish. If it comes from a body of water..I don't touch it"
Our paychecks were gonna be held back from us until the thief came forward......that ultimately didn't happen..but still...it irks me.
One person stealing, makes everyone look like a thief until he/she is caught.
And, I don't like looking like someone that steals. Because, well..I'm not.

Other than that...I'm looking for a new job. The bar business has drained me. It's made me an even more angry bitter and jaded person than I already was. It's killed my desire to talk to people, and taken the majority of the fun out of getting drunk. I'm sure I'll still be working there in 3 months, or however long...but, the desire to leave it behind me is a fantasy I live through each day. I look forward to the moment that I'm free of it.
---------
Wallet:
Before my dad went to jail for things involving and relating to being a crackhead....he left me with a shitload of debt. Some of which involved a bad/stolen check he wrote to me, and asked me to withdrawl the money, leading me to give him 600 dollars on a check, that...bounced...causing me to owe the bank over 600 dollars.
Because of this, I've gone without a bank account for the last 6 years.
Finally, I've opened another account. I've got money in the bank, a debit card again, just obtained a copy of my birth certificate, and am going to get a new social security card this week. Then....*doom doom* license time baby!
Wheels in motion. Wheeeeels in moooooootion.
-------
Watch:
I've learned in the last year that time really is of the essence. It is something you can never capture....control or obtain. It goes, faster than you think...even when you know full well, that it goes really fucking fast.

I've reached a place where things as I've known them...are about to change drastically. I've seen them coming, held them off as long as I could, and even pretended to not realize that it was all happening.
At the end of February, I'll be entering a whole new chapter in my life. One that is more adult. In doing so, I'll be leaving things behind. Moments, memories. Friendships that have long ago fallen, but remained intact by strands of desperation, in hopes of going back to what they were. It's finally clear that...those things are impossible..not because they can't be fixed, but because everyone involved got what they needed.
A shoulder. A talk. A cry.

My friend angie once told me that very few friendships last forever. That, people meet on a path when they need each other, they become friends, and more often than not...when they've gotten what they needed, they part ways...and the friendship is over.
I didn't fully grasp that....until now. I look back, and..of the friendships I've acquired in my life...which were once many...very few remain.
Very few were ever really there. Not in the way they should've or could've.

I look forward to growing into a different person. Without as many crutches, and people to fall upon. But, a part of me will always want it back...miss it, and feel bad that they're not there.
I guess this is all a part of growing up.
Letting go if the things you've latched onto in fear....so that you can stop fearing them in general.

------
In other news..I think I severly sprained/ broke my pinky toe.
I stubbed it on the couch, and as of yesterday..looked like I have a smurf toe. It's a bit lightened today.
Ive been convinced I'm dying. My wrist also hurts.

I'm positive that I'm goin to get castrated. And..my foot amputated... I will fall down some stairs...ultimately a cat will eat my stub-y leg, I'll writher away in pain...crawling down a hallway...where a rabid dog will drag me out into the street...gnawing my bloody helpless body....and leaving me for dead inside what will turn out to be a burning building. On the table in the morgue they'll determine that I was developing severe arthritis in my wrist.
And...that I had a tumor...
And..by then..I'll probably be a ball-less freak. :(

An issue with Self Worth.

Here it is.....almost 5 am. I'm running on little sleep, and I just recently got off work, where we had a really fucking busy night and I worked my ass off. I'm sober, my feet hurt, my head is pounding, and by all accounts...I should be asleep.
But I'm not.
The longer I laid there, it seems the harder I cried.

I'm not sure if it's a Holiday thing, or just an average, everyday, run of the mill kinda thing.

I laid there thinking.....what is wrong with me?

I feel so....worthless. Without meaning. Without regard.
I have no reason. No dramatic thing to aim my tragicness toward. Just the fact that I, personally....feel... like I'll never be good enough.

Not for anything, or anyone. Not the things I want to do, the person I want to become. Who I am, even now.

I feel like a filler. Someone just taking up a spot until someone else comes along.
In work, at home. Everywhere.

I've had issues with self esteem as far back as I can remember...it's something I wish I could change.
But it lies within me. It is me. It's a part of my being that I can't escape. A part of my design I cannot reconstruct.

I feel like everyone is always disappointed. In how I act, the things I say or do. Who I am, and things of that nature. I feel like people are nice to me, only to spare my feelings.
I feel like my encounters with everyone, are just giant sugar coated, moments of make believe.

I think that I'm a nuisance to most everyone. I feel like it's often just in my own head. Then there are moments when I'm not so sure.

Over the last weeks I've been having these crazy dreams. They've also been actually coming true. Sometimes they're of little things, like dropping a lighter, or looking at the clock at a certain time. Then there's other ones. Things I'm afraid to think about. I had one this afternoon, while napping. When I woke up, it was like I was in the dream all over again. And, it wasn't pretty.
It's been bothering me all night, and ...honestly..I'll have no way of knowing if it's true or not...
Wondering about things, is worse than knowing...and not liking what you know.
All of it at once, and I'm in overload mode. My mind is racing, and I want to stop for a minute, and let everything out. Let it work it's way past me. But I can't.
I'm afraid I'm going to be this way forever. Always feeling....on the outskirts of everything. Second best. or third, or fourth. Or 3254324563426331st.
I'm afraid I'm never going to feel like I'm someone's number one. Including my own.
I'm afraid I'm gonna always be down. And, beaten.

I'm afraid of alot of things.
Whatever. It's what it is...I guess.

Numero Uno

After blogging for years on a site called "Diaryland.com", I was without the internet for a few years.(which...if you're as addicted to the internet as I am, you know how incredibly difficult this is. There were times I'd hook up my broken computer and try to turn it on, in hopes that whatever was wrong with it would have been fixed by sitting in the closet for a year. To my dismay it wouldn't, I'd feel sad, as if I lost a parent, or a pet....then put it all away and drown my sorrows in mass amounts of whatever kind of booze I was feeling that night) When I was finally able to afford to buy another computer, I joined the craze that is "Myspace" (insert dramatic thunder-esque sound) (Forgive me If I make it seem like my Myspace days are over...I'll be checking my messages and stalking people there every 14 minutes of every day per usual, it's just the blogging on Myspace that's over.)

And, now my change has come again, and I'm here.

It was basically brought to my attention that, to be noticed as someone who writes...to get people to take your voice, and your words seriously, you've got to put it in a place where those things are possible. And, nothing against Myspace and it's 14 year old girl atmosphere (which..I LOVE) but, I don't think that's where "it" is at. Then again, I'm a mess and have no fucking idea what I'm talking about. Or, do I? *shrug*

So, yeah. Here it is. The greatest thing about this, is....it autosaves as your typing. There's nothing worse than writing a blog, and...losing it because your computer "performed an illegal operation" or, the "website is not responding". Fuck that shit.

On the downside, and I'm not exactly sure why this is a downside....because I'm not computer savvy...But, I was told I needed to join this other site, and connect it to this one. To do so, one needs an "RSS feed". I've done what every human with internet access does when they don't know something, and googled it. Basically, reading up on it, was like looking at a giant clitoris. Completely, uncharted territory for me. I was confused, got flustered, closed out the page and said fuck it. I'll ask for help, and if I get none...then screw it. So, yeah...if anyone is smart, and wants to help me get an RSS feed (whatever the fuck it is...I get the impression it's not difficult....I may even already have one..I don't flippen know) then, I'll love you forever.

Email me. Call my people. You know, whatever.

Right now, the big rage is this Writers Guild Strike. It's crazy. It's only a matter of weeks until everything is airing re-runs and our televisions are taken over by reality shows. (which....for a reality tv junkie like myself...is a little slice of heaven) It's bringing me a winter edition of Big Brother. (Which...I am auditioning for again this year....I made it to meet the producers last year..I'm crossin my fingers that it happens again) Though, it's also going to make it difficult for me to watch LOST when the new season starts. There might not be any episodes written to watch. Plus, in effort to keep people watching tv, theres gonna be some crazy, poorly planned shows like "Do You want to Marry my one legged, six fingered, cross-eyed Dad" with Carrot Top as the Host. or "Americas Next Top Religious Zealot". Each week pastors and priests battle out to be the next big mouthed, hypocritical judgemental bastard. Hosted by Dr. Laura and Pat Robertson.

And, I know shows are gonna suffer. All I'm sayin is.. I'm no J.J Abrams, or whatever that chicks name is who writes Greys Anatomy. (love me some Greys) but, I'm not a member of the guild. Give a bitch a shot. Call me. Sure yer script will be like this...

Jack: Hey kate.

Kate: Hey Jack.

Jack: We're Lost.

Kate: Yes, we are.

(doom doom.)

Jack: wanna make out?

Kate: Okay.

*black smoke*

Both: RUN!

(doom doom)

but...at least it'll still be on.....that's all I'm sayin.

It's a bigger deal than people think, I think. It's affecting evvvverything. Late night talk shows, SNL, Julia-Louise Dreyfuss. Basically...everything. Except Ellen.

God love that dyke. She's like "i love my writers but i love myself more, the show must go on, eat my pussy bitches...and dont forget to use American Express. Now here's a XBOX 360 for everyone in the world as long as you still love me, cause I am Ellen."

(doom doom)

Then they cut to commercial and its an ad for Entertainment Tonight, interviewing that kid who got the dog from Ellen, then got it taken away all crying and shit.

Messes.

.

On a complete random note, I will mention one last thing, and it's on more of a serious note. A few weeks ago a co-worker that I'd known for a long time, passed away. There was a "life celebration" type of thing at the bar which I worked for, and...it was a very emotional time. It was extremely difficult to stand behind the bar, fighting back tears, while everyone is looking at you, asking you to put an extra lime in their vodka-tonic. The hardest part was seeing his lover, trying to be strong and not crack. Pretending to be having a wonderful time. It sucked.

The lover got really drunk, and left. After awhile he returned and said he had something for me.He pulled out a belt buckle. It was one that Jim (the co-worker who died) had worn every single day.He said that I'm the only person he knows who wears different belt buckles. And, asked if I'd like to have it.

At that moment, everything kind of came full circle. There was no avoiding the fact that he was is actually gone. Reality caught up to me. And I stopped mentally. for the first time, it actually really kicked in. I will never see him again. Ever.

Of course I accepted the buckle. My eyes watered for a moment. I wiped the tears away, and went on about my business.

It was one of those moments where...it was a big deal. Even if it didn't seem like one.

I'll never wear the buckle. But I'll keep it forever. And I'll always remember my friend

Cheers to Jim.

I'll write again soon. Peace and Chicken Grease.