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.

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. :)
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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.
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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.
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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.

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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. :(