A Long and Winding Road. Er...Blog.

It's been a motherfucking' long ass weekend. And, just when you think there's some relief in sight....Yer wrong! It's not! There is no relief. None. Zip. Nadda. El Nunya. (I don't think that is actually a word but it sounds fun..so we're gonna stick with it)

On Friday, Preston and I made plans to head to Michigan. The Detroit Auto Show was going on, and being a car person... he was molesting himself thinking of....engines and mufflers or whatever. Myself, being the thinker that I am figured, Well....we're gonna be in Detroit, we might as well go to Canton (michigan) first. Ikea is there, and Preston had never been there before.
Preston had a doctors' appt in the morning, so the plan became this. I'd go to my house and start packing my things. (moving sucks) while I was doing that, he'd go to the doctor, then we'd hit Meijer for some cheap sunglasses (he lost his) then we'd drive to Canton, lurk through Ikea, then we'd head to Detroit and see the Vrroom Vrrooms.

I got a pretty good start on the packing by the time he was done with the doctor. So off we went. Fyi, If yer looking for a cheap pair of sunglasses and you're a boy who DOESNT want little fake rhinestones glued to the front and sides, do not go to Meijer. Which, btw....I've noticed Meijer has done some remodeling. It now looks almost exactly like a Wal-Mart, minus the smiley faces, the rollback bullshit, the overstocked aisle-ways and about 33% less people with mullets. I'm all for change, and the color scheme is better than that red bullshit they were sportin, but...don't make it soooo obvious that yer copying your competition. Next they're gonna change their name to Mal-Wart. Granted, that lacks appeal. *shrug*
We drove to Canton, which...seemed like a longer drive the times I'd been before. We walked around the entire store, most of which I spent trying to talk myself into buying different things. Preston spent that time, trying to talk me out of it. The one thing I REEEEEALLY wanted was this really big ass picture of the like....NYC theatre-y area. But the car is too small. *sad face*.
I ended up leaving Ikea with a bag of swedish meatballs. A towel rack for the bathroom (it holds FOUR towels!) and a dish scrubby that sticks upright to the sink.
We won't even get in to how that makes me feel like a housewife, and mother of four.. I bet Martha Stewart woulda even bought something more personal, like a ....shower cap that also unfolds into gardening gloves or some shit.

From there, we headed to Detroit.
Preston has gone to this auto show thing before, so he knew where he needed to park and what nots. We find the parking garage, and begin the hike to the Civic Center.
I, am one of those people that a) doesn't like extreme heat, or cold. b) doesn't like homeless people and c) doesn't like to walk unless it's to the fridge. d) walks very slow

So, I was freezing, dodging homeless crackies askin for change like a......something that hasta dodge things alot, my leg starting cramping, and I was trying to catch up to Preston who walks faster than....someone who walks really fast in comparison to someone who doesnt.

I don't know what it is, with me and dating people who walk so fast. Maybe they're just impatient, maybe they're walking at a normal pace and I walk at the speed of turtle. I'm not sure, but this has been a reoccuring theme.
I hadn't eaten since breakfast, so I was getting to the point where my body needed nourishment. We finally got some food inside the center, but because it was so busy had to wait about ten minutes for a table. All of those things combined, had me turning into a cranky ass bitch. I was tired, sore, aggravated, hungry, and there were people everywhere. I hate people.

Add that with the fact that my interest in cars is about as high as my interest in my mailmans' moms' uncles' nieces' best friends' boyfriends' sisters' new haircut. I was pissy. I was grumpy and being a dick, and pretty much acted that way the whole time.

I heard the phrase "You think yer in motor city, well...open up the trunk on the 2008 whateverthefuck make/model it was and you're instantly transported to ... CARGO CITY!"

People everywhere, trying to see the cars from every angle possible. Taking pictures.
"And this is the Ford Fuckmymouth. I was two fat mexican gangsters away from touching that car!"

People everywhere, bumping into me. Cutting me off, looking at me and thinking "why isn't he smiling...he's next to the Honda Whofuckingcares".
lol.
It wasn't all bad. I mean, if I had an interest in cars, or..even knew anything about them, it might be a good time. The good time in it for me, was that there were alot of people. Alot of hot people. Alot of hot, straight men people.
So, while Preston was looking at car seats and new designs, I was looking at hot peoples' faces. And crotches.
I've never checked out so many crotches in my life. Everywhere I looked, there was a hot man with what appeared to be, a very well equipped, crotch.
I'm not really a big "you need to have a big dick" kinda guy....but when in a group of 32543164376 hot men, it sure grabs yer attention.
I love straight men. Especially if they're mildly thugy. Not like ganster thug. But throw a saggy pair of jeans, (not too saggy) and a crooked hat on a hot man with side burns, give him cute shoes and a lil bit of facial hair, and ....I'm in hog heaven.
Preston was like "oh god thats a hot car" and I'm drooling over some guy trying to decide if thats the head of his dick I see, or if it's just wishful thinking. I'm like "yessssss it is......hot car..uh huh. drool drool drool."
lol.
I'm exagerating. But, there were some hot people. With that, however comes alot of ugly people. If theres anything I hate more than people in general, it's ugly people. And for every hot guy, there were four ugly guys, and two skanky girls. So it was like "boner. flacid. boner. flacid. boner. flacid. flacid. boner. boner. flacid. flacid. very very flacid. then, omg i have a vagina.

By the time we made it to the car again. I was practically ready to fall asleep standing up. Due to my being irritated/tired/etc and some other things, we had an arguement which resulted in silent treatment. Though, not because it was my way of punishing or anything, it was just..I knew that if I talked, it'd be bad. I'd end up projectile vomiting words of anger, my head woulda done a 360. Death threats woulda been made. So, I remained silent for about 5 hours.
Ultimately, we got over it all, because it was just silly.
I need to work on some things, one of which is, when something bothers me, to come right out and say it, and not hold it in for an extended period of time, then when I've boiled over, unleash it all.
Some people need time to cool down. I'm more the opposite. With time, my mind wanders, I get more upset and start thinkig of other shit. I'm a "this needs to be handled now...before it gets worse". Unfortunately...I've never met anyone that is also that way....
lol.

Saturday I had to go to my house and pack some more, then head to work. Upon getting there, I was told I was working a double.
I need to work doubles, but...they're still aggravating. Two shifts consecutively at the bar, isn't that bad, but when you've been packing, and had a long day the day before...it has the possibility of turning bad.
It wasn't a bad time....it was really painfully dead, so I didn't make neeeearly the amount of money I'd planned. Which, sucks because I need as much of the green as I can get mah hands on.
There was a shitload of work drama, that, thankfully didn't involve me, and...that was the end of that.

Sunday, was moving day.
Due to the fact that, we just.....don't talk anymore. It was decided that I'd move out when our lease was up.(So did my other roomate Antuan). Tonya found someone she wanted to live with more, and..it all worked out I guess. Needing to be out by the first, this was the last weekend I had to move.
With everything packed, we got a truck, and loaded up my shit.
Realizing that I have far too much stuff for Preston's apartment. (we WILL be moving when his lease is up..lol) I had to get a storage unit.
I reserved a 5x5x10. In case you were wondering, 5x5x10 is like the size of one box. Literally...its the size of a closet. I dunno how we fit what little bit of crap in there that we did,...it is pretty much full from top to bottom.
Now, I'm looking around the apartment...there are boxes everywhere. I have so much fucking shit, and nowhere to put it. So....Im pretty sure I'll be throwing away alot of random shit that I've been holding onto because I had the room before.
I've got alot of work ahead of me, unpacking, sorting through what I'm willing to throw away and what I'm not, then from there...finding a place to put all this shit.
*sigh*
On top of everything,we brought Paco here finally last night. I'm 90% positive he's developed canine diabetes because he won't stop drinking and peeing. He woke me up, every hour...whining because he needed more water..I'd fill the bowl, he'd drink the whole bowl, he'd pee, we'd lay back down....50 minutes later...same thing.
From what I gather he's been like this for awhile, so..now I've got to scrunge up enough money to pay bills at the new place, pay bills at the old place, pay for a vet bill and probably medicine for paco, and i need to see a dr myself for some things that need taken care of.
I dont have money for all these things...So, unless I miraculously find a big stash of it somewhere,...I'm screwed. My health is deteriorating...my dog is dying...and we'll die together in the darkness when our shit gets shut off. (lol).
Again..I'm exagerating a bit, but...at the same time...I'm broke all a sudden!.

Anyway..I wanted to blog, now I'm looking at all these boxes and..I gotta start tackling something.
Peace and grease.

Me, Myself, and Heath Ledger.

The human psyche is very interesting to me. Understanding why different people make different decisions, trying to grasp their points of view, taking the time to put yourself in someone elses' shoes to fully wrap yourself around how someone else feels, acts, and reacts to a situation...it all intrigues me.

For instance. If you really delve into your history. Starting from your childhood, to where you are in life at this exact moment...and really dissect the different choices you've made....things you've done and not done.....you'll probably find a pattern to it all.
The goodness. The mistakes. You're almost guaranteed to find a connection. That is, if your able to reeeally look at things and understand the meaning behind them.

For instance.
I myself, while having three sisters...was raised as an only child. I had family members that were on and off in closeness, but for the most part...I was by myself alot. I hated it. And, to this day...hate being alone.
I feel like, its a fault in me, and that because people arent always around....it must mean that I'm not likable. (Which..is ridiculous..I'm a good time)

I was never forced to share. Infact, often times I was encouraged by my grandfather, and my fater to not share my things. Because, they were in fact...mine, and noone elses. To this day, when I see someone touch something thats mine, in my head I think "hey....thats mine..get yer hands off". I'm not all....jewish about it. (thats not hatred..thats funny truth) but, for a fleeting moment, an alarm goes off in my head saying.." hey...hey...some bitch has their hands on your lion slippers....tell them to get their own".

I have an issue with affection. Probably because I grew up with just my dad, and..he grew up in a home that....instead of hugs, his father figure handed out closed fists to the face. So, he didn't know how to express himself. I never recieved alot of affection. My affection was shown in presents.
To this day, I always tell people I don't need presents. They don't matter. Granted, they're nice. I also crave affection. I want to constantly be told good things, or shown love. I want to be adorned with hugs and kisses.
I learned to show "love" through sex.
To this day, my boyfriend gets home from working a 12 hour day at a place where he works his dick off at, and because he's so tired and has to work in the morning, and I run him ragged with different things to do....often he's too tired.
Instead of being patient and understanding, I get upset and give him the cold shoulder.
Not because I'm actually mad, but somehow...in my mind..that equates to....me not being good enough, or him not being attracted enough to me, or something else that my mind makes up...because I'm used to convincing myself that there's something wrong with me. It sometimes get to a point that, is almost ridiculous. Somewhere, underneath...I become this childish little boy...not differentiating between how I've been made to feel before, and that it's not the same now.
Maybe that goes back to my abandonment issues, or my molestation crap.

Everything forms you into the person you are. And, sometimes it's just amazing to look back on it all, and realize just how you got where you are.

I personally, am trying to break the mold of who I've been. How I've grown into the insecure, paranoid person that I am. It makes it extremely difficult even to think, because I'm always second guessing everything that everyone says with a negative outlook or expectation.
But, its very difficult. When you've been used to seeing the negative things in people your entire life, it's really god damned hard to just.....shear that from your thought process.

*shrug*

With that schpeel out of the way.
Unless you live under a rock (Osama lives under a rock...and even he's prolly heard) Heath Ledger died.

I'm not going to say it's not sad, because it is. Death in general is pretty sad. Unless I hate you, then it's still kinda sad, but just not for me.
I'm not at all happy that he's dead, nor do I think it's funny, or anything like that.
But I will say this.
He was a decent actor, in a world full of decent actors. He didn't end workd hunger, or achieve world peace. He'll mostly be remembered to the world as one of the guys in the "movie about queer cowboys". Which, is what it is. I was neither a fan, nor someone who didn't like him. My thoughts are.. "damn..he's hot....why do hot people die, and Jack Black still chugs along?"

But after I got the FIFTH. (yes...5) text message about his death, I got irritated.
A few weeks ago when Benazir Bhutto was assassinated...noone texted me.
Noone messaged me to say " FWD: FWD:FWD FWD someone that actually changed the world for the better...has been brutally killed.....pass this on if you believe in uniting the world through peace."

When Luciano Pavarotti died, noone texted me to say " Hey...this is random but one of the most influential musical voices of all time just kicked the bucket.....listen next time yer in an elevator or on hold and thin of the dude".

When Lady Bird Johnson died, noone texted me to say "um..some former first lady died. I dont know what the fuck she did that made her important..but I know she did something..so...remember her legacy"

Even when Jerry Falwell died, noone texted me to say "thank god..that hick, hate-filled son of a bitch is dead. praise jesus, I hope some big black homo with a 14 inch dick is fucking that fat fuck so hard in hell that his kidneys are gonna fall out of his hypocritical asshole....buttfuckers unite in honor!"

Nothing.
But, Heath Ledger. Star of a gay movie, and a few other crappy ones. (and...the newest Batman..which..i'll say...looks like he's gonna be reeeeeal reaaaal good) makes sucha noteworthy impact on people, that they're posting shit on myspace like "oh my god..actor dead and im in shock". Texting shit like "OMG did U hear Heath Ledger OD'd. Or maybe killed himself. Or maybe Mary Kate Olsen did it, it was in his house. I'm so sad..I'm gonna watch Brokeback Mountain again and drink some hot cocoa, until I masterbate briefly to the "sex" scene, then go to sleep. By Thursday I'll forget about him until the next awards show when they show all those dead guys. OH BTW. You know where I can score some more blow? I'm out"

It's bullshit.
It's people, and medias fucked up way of exploiting everything. I'm a believer that, in death..should come peace. He died. We can't change it. We don't need to know how he died, or why, or what he was wearing, who the last person he text messaged was. What the last thing he had for breakfast was. What drugs he was on. That is not our business.
Get the fuck over it.
And, if he did OD, ....a bunch of people are gonna be like "this is so sad....young actors dying..etc..etc." The headline "Actor in Gay blockbuster dies of OD". Everyones' gonna talk about how unfortunate it is.
And. yeah. It sucks. But it's life.
I don't think it's sad.....I think it's pathetic. People having all they want in life and they blow it on drugs.
(and this is my opinion on anyone who dies of drugs...not just Heath Ledger. And...Even if it turns out he didn't OD...several have before him...and several will after him. This will not go away. Ever.)
So..stop fucking texting me about it.

And..that's a wrap.

Ambulance

I stare at a blank page.
It mimics who I am.
Who I've been.
Who I'll become.

I run on empty.
From it.
Towards it.
All that's inbetween.

I feel nothing.
Its what I see.
It's all I know.
Without it, I'm alone.

I create tension.
Accidently.
Purposely.
Sub-consciously.

I fail at things.
Some things.
Most things.
Everything.

I cry.
But I hide.
I drown.
But I wipe away.

I reach out.

I pull back.

I run away.

I want rescue.

I've lost my definition.
My design.
My desire.
I am void.

Mumbo Jumbo

Sometimes I feel like I'm on the verge of writing something great. Something regarded in my own mind as....beautiful. A piece of work that somehow validates who I am.
It's difficult. Everything really. I call myself a writer, but I can't write. I call myself a good person, yet noone seems to agree with that.
I say I'm this, or I'm that. I say I'm honest. Yet, all I do is lie to myself.

I want something more. More than what I have, more than what I am. More than what I've convinced myself I'm capable of.
I've always told myself that writing is what I want to do. It's what I want to be. It's who I am. But, I look at everything, and I think..maybe it's not who I am. Maybe I'm like one of those tragic people who wants to be a ballerina, but has no feet. I want to be a writer. But, I can't be a writer if I can't write.
This same formula applies to everything else also. I can't keep trying to make myself into this person that I'm not. I can't try to be anything other than what I am.

I've never really liked myself. Ever. Maybe that's why I try to be something different. I try to be funny so people will laugh at me, and I get a brief feeling that....someone likes me.

I guess it's a fair statement to say that I'm a mess. I've always been a mess, and I don't really know how not to be one. It comes naturally. Like breathing. Or looking at someone who's picking their nose.

For as long as I can remember, I've searched out acceptance. I find different ways of winning that over with different people. Some people feed off of my negativity towards random people. Some people like that I can be funny at the drop of a dime. Some people like that I'm more than that...and if given the opportunity to show it...I'm actually a very deep, and kind person. I've never really gotten to know who I am, because I've never really felt good enough about the things about me to know if that's what I want to be.

I couldn't count the times I've been told how mean I am. How hateful and hurtful I am. How poorly I treat people. I couldn't count the times I've taken that and pretended that it didn't bother me. Nor could I count the times that I've been hurt in return.

Over the years, I've learned how to be an excellant judge of character. I've learned how to understand when people are lying, when they're pacifying you. I've studied the way people behave not from reading it in a book, but from watching it.

I, personally have been lied to alot over the years. And, it's something that I've grown to hate more passionately than any one thing a person can do.

I think that people sometimes don't take everything into consideration. Maybe they don't believe in the whole "every action has an equal and opposite reaction" kind of thing. I'm not sure.

I get tired of being the villain. I'm automatically cast in that role no matter what I do. No matter what I say.

Even when I'm not wrong, I'm wrong for having been wrong so much before that it just expected of me.
I face it everywhere. It's at home, it's at work. It's etched into my brain so much...that it's the only definition I have of myself anymore.
And that's a lonely feeling.

Basically...it sucks.
I've been told that noone that comes into the place I work at, likes me. The comment has been made several times by my owner. I know that, deep down that isn't a fact. I know that he doesn't even mean it himself. But the fact that it's said at all ....hurts me. And that goes for alot of things that alot of people say.
Because I tell people that I don't know, or don't like , exactly what I think of them, it often gives people this perception of me. Something like I'm this cold hearted ice queen, who is so vicious. And maybe that helps them when they decide to say things that hurt me.

It's interesting how people validate their behavior. I, myself included.

We...simply don't think about our actions. And, often times we do, but just don't care.

I know this. I am guilty of alot of things. I've crucified several people for unjustified reasons. And, in that same token, I've let people do things that affect me that have gone unmentioned.
I've judged myself, and others very harshly for things. And I often say things to people, that come out wrong and make it seem different than it is. I've made myself a martyr to ease my guilt. And, I've also made myself a villain just to please other peoples needsto be right.

But, I'm not all bad. I can't be all bad. Can I?
If every person that reads this.....and thinks to themselves "Nick has been an asshole to me".
I want you to think about every single thing that you, yourself has done. Every word you've spoken. Every action you've made. Every secret you keep.
I think all of you will find that....with a microscope pointed at you, you too could be exactly what I am.

In a weirdly related kinda way....that's why I've wanted to be a writer. It gives me a chance to live in a life different than my own. Maybe I can be socially accepted by people. Maybe I could live in my minds' fairy tale, and feel....beautiful for once. I can be okay, and wanted and loved and appreciated and adored.
I can be everything that for my entire life I've felt I'm not. I can write a character that fits my ideals. I can make up someone that...is exactly what I want them to be.

I'm so critical of myself. In such an extreme way. And, all I really want in life is one person to tell me that I'm more than what everyone always thinks I am. Someone to understand me. And, see what I've gone through, and tell me that I'm good enough to go through more. I wish that, for the first time ever in my life...I was defined by the better parts of me. And not just ridiculed for my faults.
I guess this is probably how most people feel. But all I am is me.
All I have is my thoughts. My feelings.

And, contrary to popular belief...I do have them.

I know that when reading this, certain people will automatically assume that this blog is dedicated to them. Other people reading this will automatically assume that it's about someone else.
This blog is about me and only me. If you feel a portion of it somehow relates to you, then I suggest you reevaluate things about yourself such as I am.
I want to be a better person than I have been. A better one than I am.

I'm ready to become a person who is who they are for themself. I'm tired of being someone I'm not happy with.
I'm realizing that I can't keep basing how I feel about myself, on how other people feel about me.
Fuck everyone else.

The Singing Bee

You know you want to be a writer when the phrase "Oh my god, I need to blog about that" comes out of your mouth on a daily basis.
For example..I learned that the boy I'm seeing has never seen the movie Beaches.
My response. "You've never seen Beaches? Who hasn't seen Beaches? The Wind Beneath My Wings? The Bette Midler/ Barbara Hershey classic?! This is a blog of its own"
I mean, seriously. If you haven't seen Beaches...you've been seriously deprived. It's like..how every young homosexual man learns what true friendship is. It teaches you that friendship means having to take care of yer friends' bitchy ass kids even though you'd like nothing more than to cut the little bitch into small pieces and feed them to your mother in law.
Or..something.
I instantly snatched his tiara off his head, and his prada shoes off his feet. Replacing them them one of those "put it together yourself" Burger King crowns and a bright yellow pair of those anti fashionista yet oh so comfortable Crocs.

Things like this happen quite often in my world. Some random thing happens or something new is entered into my life, I often think "Omg..I need to blog about this".
Sometimes I make random lists, forget about the list then later find the list. Then I sit there and I'm like...Why the fuck did I write..
"The View. Crazy Fat lesbian. Republic Vagina. Danny Devito wine/whacko."
Then I remember ooooh...I was watching the View, Rosie O'donnell is a crazy fat lesbian, I hate Elizabth Hasselbeck,her republican ways and the fact that she's always on the rag, I have no clue why Danny Devito has his own wine, but he's a cute little midget guy...even though he's crazy."
or..something.
For weeks theres been a list sitting on the computer desk that says "Pop rocks. BK Ketchup fries. Scandanavian for Victorious.

It was a list to blog about. First I had pop rocks for the first time. A friend brought some in because I'd mentioned that I'd never had them. He told me to try them, and I won't lie...I was scared. All I knew about pop rocks were that they supposedly exploded in your mouth, and some kid died from them having them in his/her mouth and drinking soda at the same time.
After a few tastes and realizing that they barely pop nowadays. (Thanks to a lawsuit from the dead kids family I presume) I found myself risking death and drinking soda at the same time just to see what happened.
I thought it was gonna be like that lava experiment you'd see in science class.
No. It wasn't. It was very anti-climatic. Here I am risking my life for this phenomenon of years past, and......I get nothing. Not a pop. Not a fizzle. Jack shit.

I also tried these things out of a vending machine. They were called "Ketchup Fries" from Burger King. Basically...they were potato chips, in the form of a french fry....that...had a hint of ketchup in the taste. Being a huge fan of french fries, and...ketchup..I thought this was interesting. I wasn't expecting them to taste good, but still I had to try. After eating the whole bag..I'm still not sure if they're tasty, or taste like shit....They're very weird. Very.

The Scandanavian thing is kind of random. (But what isn't)
I found out that my name, with it's unique spelling is of Scandanavian descent. "Nicklous" means victorious. What's funny about this, is my friend Sharon brought the phrase "you scandanavian bitch" into my circle years ago. Who knew that I actually...in a sense...was a scandanavian bitch this whole time?.

The whole reason for this blog.....The TV show "The Singing Bee". I DVR'd an episode last week, just to see what the hype was. I finally watched it this morning.
My first thought, was...I want to fuck Joey Fatone. Well, I want Joey Fatone to fuck me. He's not hot. He doesnt have this great body, but something about him.....be it the personality, or the confidence, or...what...something makes me want him inside of me. (lol). Normally, I'm not the type to want to fuck someone just because of their personality...but somethin about his little baby bear self just rocks me in the nether regions.
Then, he announced it was the "Tv theme song edition". And,out walks.....Maureen McCormick, and Barry Williams. (Marsha, Marsha Marsha, and Greg Brady) And..they start singing the theme song to the Brady Bunch.
...
Then they start going through the audience showing all the losers vying to be the contestants...I don't know if they coach the audience or what, but the cheese factor was fucking ridiculous. Dorky dances... Cheesy grins and what nots. I swear one bitch did the Mashed Potato on the way to the stage.
I thought, What the fuck is wrong with these people? You're on television. Don't act like Goober McGee. Try to look ....fun, yet...cool. Not someone who collects ceramic ducks, names them...and throws tea parties with invisible friends who also collect ducks...who got chosen to be on a cheesy tv sing along show.
They picked the contestants..and then introduced the band.
Enter the only black people on the show. The band people. Proving that..this is the whitest thing I've ever seen. I think Don Imus is the executive producer or some shit.
Half way into the show...I realized that A) you have to be an idiot to lose. In the 3rd round (of 5) the song was the Flintstones theme song. the line that needed to be completed was "flintstones...meet the flintstones...a modern stone age family...from the..." ....
If anyone can't say "town of bedrock" you should kill yourself.
B) I noticed the backup dancers. (the only other black people on the show) It's a singing show, hosted by a former member of NSync, geared at housewives who have no lives....and all a sudden these skanky hoes in these super short sequin skirts come out...hoochin all over the dancefloor.
What the fuck? Suddenly it turned into Platinum Showgirls on a Friday night at 1 in the morning. I swear I seen Eddie Murphy run across stage and shove a dollar in one of their snatches.

Then they brought out The guy who played "uncle carl" and then Carlton from The Fresh Prince of Bel-Air.....Whom, didnt even know the lyrics to their own theme song.
Put me on a tv show with a theme song. I'll know that shit. I'll go around singing it all god damned day. I don't care if its about a child molesting farmer who raises baby goats. I'll sing that shit all day. "baaa".

The last group of "celebrities" they brought out were these two ugly old people from "Welcome back Kotter". I've never seen Welcome Back Kotter...nor will I ever watch an episode of it. So..I have nothing to say except for...if Don Imus is infact the producer (I mean ....really....couldnt they have brought the Mowry twins from Sister Sister?!?.) he needs to be fired.
Welcome Back Kotter?!?!?!!
Wtf?!

Ultimately, the big fat bitch won. As if anyone else had a chance. She wasnt cute. She wasn't thin. She had nothing better to do than sit in front of the tv her entire life memorizing all this shit. In between commercial breaks I'm positive she had a giant bag of cheetos, a box of milk duds and her Verizon V-cast in her hand watching the Soap Network.
Dying to know what no good Erica Kane was up to now.

I guess all I'm saying is....The Singing Bee show, is a fucking waste of air time. End the fucking thing. Put it out of its misery. The black band members can go back to N'awleans singing for change. The go-go bitches can go back to wishin and hopin In Living Color comes back so they can "dance" for a live audience. Eddie Murphy can buy other whores, and Joey Fatone can come fuck my butt.

A New Year

Over the last week or so, I've toyed with different things to write in here. Different ways to express the roller coaster I've been on since the week before Christmas. Ultimately, I haven't because.....once you start opening up your mind to the people that read your diary, you have to start editing your thoughts.
In this instance, I don't want the people that care about me, and that I care about to read some of the things I felt in this time. I don't want people to get the wrong impression, and I don't want people to feel worse about things.
I'll just say, that Christmas, sucked. I had a very emotional event occur while I was working, with a family member that..changed me instantly. I haven't really talked about it much, its not one of those things you want to sit down over a coffee colada and a blueberry muffin and talk about.
But, at the same time, its not something I want to bury and pretend that it didn't happen. I've spent a lifetime burying the things that I'm afraid of. The things that have hurt me. And, the only way I can unbury some of those things, is to stop putting other things ontop of it all and covering it with more dirt.
It's small steps. Or, whatever.
The week following Christmas was pretty nice. The person I'm dating was out of town for the holidays. It was lonely...but his arrival back to town was nice.
New Years Eve was last night. and...for the first time in a long time I had someone to bring in the new year with.
The last few New Years' have come at a time where I wasn't with anyone, for whatever reasons. It's one of those times that when you're alone for it, and everyone starts kissin and what nots...you get down on yourself...like "what the fuck is wrong with me....Rhea Pearlman has someone to make out with...and I'm alone"
I got to skip that this year...and I'm thankful.
The night went well until the very end. Some hardcore drama broke out while at work. Hopefully it all blows over, and everything ends up okay. I guess we'll see.

I find myself almost shocked at the fact that it is 2008. It seems like so much time passes, in such little time. It seems it wasn't long ago that I was living in Bowling Green, going nowhere with my life.
Now I'm in Toledo. Still going nowhere. But, more steadily.
I've changed alot in this last year. More than people probably actually think.
I ironed myself. I quit smoking again. Then started again, and...quit again. I quit using drugs.
I homewrecked. I lost some friendships that I'd held onto for too long. Not because they were great friendships, but...because they were all I had.
I gained some new friends also, but sometimes it's easier to acknowledge the things you've lost, rather than the things you've gained.
I fell in love, unexpectedly. Twice.
First with Harry Potter.
And then with someone that isn't a work of fiction.
It's always complicated. I don't think love is supposed to be simplistic. It would be easier if it was, that's for sure. But, I guess you take the good with the bad.

I paid off my ticket this year, and am finally getting my ass in gear. Hopefully by the time I'm writing my year in review for 2008, it entails me having my own vehicle for the first time ever, and lists my having a new job as one of my accomplishments.
But, one day at a time...One task, then another.
Small steps.

In the upcoming months, my life is going to change. From something it has been for years, into something it hasn't been ever before. I'm afraid. I fear change. That's probably why I don't change things that often. I'm petrified of the unknown.
I'm not really sure where I'm headed. I don't know where I want to end up, or how I'm gonna get there, or any of that over-analytical bullshit.
I do know that I'm excited to no longer be dormant. For better or for worse.

I can't say that 2007 was a bad year. It wasn't a great year....all in all, not too shabby.
Far better than 2005/2006, that's certain.

If 2008 stays on the same exact level as 2007...I can be content with that. But, then again........better is always better.

Happy New Years Kids.