So, it's Christmas again. It's been tough this last year. Nothing is really resolved, nothing majorly interesting is happening, or happened. I've just been trying to ignore the impending depression that always sets in during these times.
Work has been playing Christmas tunes over the intercom since November 12th, and people around me are all happy and cheerful concerning Christmas. They tell me of their family get-togethers, presents they got for children or grandchildren. And I kind of want to beat them for it. Well, not really. On a good day, I enjoy hearing about this stuff. I guess I'm just jealous. I want to feel that..."thing" that they feel. I have no one keeping me warm at night, no family gatherings to go to, no tree, no presents. Some of that is deliberate, some not. I just want to pretend that it's simply another day, in a long (or short) line of more days unravelling to the future.
I've been trying to focus on what I DO have. I have peace and quiet, some music I like, food in my fridge, and a roof over my head. I also gots me internet, otherwise I'd be doing this as smoke signals or something. Heh.
I just wish I had something important to do, or look forward to. I feel lost. I work, come home, eat, sleep, poop. Lather, rinse, repeat. I kill time by watching movies, and occasionally playing games and surfing the 'net. I try to connect to the world, but it just feels like a weird, alien place. I feel almost like I'm waiting for something. I've got to stop that. Sitting here on my ass is getting tedious, and nets me nothing.
When this new year starts, I think I'm going to be quitting this shit. This isn't living. I'll be moving soon, and from there, maybe I can make a new start.
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Movin' on up...to the east si-ide!
Well, in an unusual turn of events (as in, some "good luck"), I got invited to move into a penthouse apartment, along with some friends. Given that in the 6-months I had an erstwhile (and semi-deadbeat) roomie/girlfriend, I didn't really get ahead financially as I'd hoped to. The cool thing is, the penthouse is already in the building I live in!!!
*squeals in girlish glee*
So me, a co-worker (and good friend), his wife, and another mutual friend, could all be living in this swanky (and very roomy) penthouse. And the best part is, my room there, is almost bigger than my whole apartment!! Actually, the better part is, split 4-ways, it's $320+ less rent than I pay now. And the patio is SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET! Too bad it's winter.
Now I've got to do up the damned paperwork.
*squeals in girlish glee*
So me, a co-worker (and good friend), his wife, and another mutual friend, could all be living in this swanky (and very roomy) penthouse. And the best part is, my room there, is almost bigger than my whole apartment!! Actually, the better part is, split 4-ways, it's $320+ less rent than I pay now. And the patio is SWEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEET! Too bad it's winter.
Now I've got to do up the damned paperwork.
Friday, December 4, 2009
"Oh, Lord...I'm Still Alive..."
Yes, that's a Pearl Jam song reference, deal with it.
Hello, my long-neglected blog. Oh, how I missed you!
*spends several minutes just nuzzling the blog affectionately*
Ahhhhh. Much better.
Some might wonder why I've been away for so long. The answer to that question is simple. I got caught up in a relationship. I met me a girl, she seemed good (and was good) for a brief period of time. We went out for about 2 months, and I foolishly brought her into my sanctum sanctorum, my fancy way of saying "my apartment" and also "my life". I won't delve into the details as to why I did this, save to say that it was a combination of "poor judgement" and "it-seemed-like-the-right-thing-to-do-at-the-time". From there on out, 4-ish months, it was like living with a psychotic, issue-ridden, guilt-powered, cyborg sent back from the future to destroy John Connor. And by "John Connor" I mean "me".
And she was crazy, too. Never have I seen someone so full of issues that they literally went batshit insane whenever you brushed the raw, exposed nerves left unhealed from the years of...er...being her, I guess. She could literally go from saying "I was the best thing that ever happened to her", one minute, and begin hurling obscenities at me, the next. It got to a point where there was nothing I could do or say that wouldn't set her off, so I simply stopped doing anything at all concerning her. Which, ironically, set her off some more. I should probably mention that throughout all this, she maintains that I was abusing her! She also wrote about it on Facebook, and told her friends about it. That dog won't hunt, monsignor!!
For the record, I'd like to state that I have never hit a woman (or a man, for that matter), nor do I come from the school of he/she-who-yells-loudest-wins-the-argument. Hell, When I get mad, I go quiet. But there was no abuse whatsoever going on. But it's nice that she told a bunch of people I don't know alllll about it. Never mind that it's from her extremely-flawed perspective.
Thankfully, she decided to go live with her sister (who is also an annoying bitch, in her own right), leaving me with the remainders of her stuff until she can pick it up. In the meantime, I've been enjoying a kind of bliss the likes of which I can't recall knowing. The absence of a super-crazy bitch.
I remember cracking open some terrible noname-style root beer from in the fridge after she left. She had taken all the food she'd recently purchased (for a change, she was kind of a deadbeat), including cases of pop from the fridge, but left the gross stuff for me. After she left, I remember cracking one of those open, taking a swig, and remarking at how much it tasted like freedom. Well, if "freedom" was a shitty-tasting imitation root beer. But I digress...
All-in-all, I have to admit that it's been very satisfying to not have her around. Much of why I neglected this l'il blog for so long, was because I was wrapped up in taking care of her extra-needy ass. Not to mention that I don't like the idea of her being able to read shit over my shoulder. Simply put, for what she offered, what she required from me was much, much more. I think I'll refer to it as relationship economics.
My next relationship co-conspirator must meet the following criteria:
#1: Have a job. And be able to pay their own bills, and buy their own junk.
#2: Not Be Crazy. Will not abuse the shit out me for issues and baggage that pre-date me and our potential relationship.
I am a bit bummed, though. I miss her cat. He was a cute, agreeable l'il rascal. Not unlike Puss In Boots from Shrek 2. Maybe I should've started dating him. He was way saner.
Ramble-rant over.
Hello, my long-neglected blog. Oh, how I missed you!
*spends several minutes just nuzzling the blog affectionately*
Ahhhhh. Much better.
Some might wonder why I've been away for so long. The answer to that question is simple. I got caught up in a relationship. I met me a girl, she seemed good (and was good) for a brief period of time. We went out for about 2 months, and I foolishly brought her into my sanctum sanctorum, my fancy way of saying "my apartment" and also "my life". I won't delve into the details as to why I did this, save to say that it was a combination of "poor judgement" and "it-seemed-like-the-right-thing-to-do-at-the-time". From there on out, 4-ish months, it was like living with a psychotic, issue-ridden, guilt-powered, cyborg sent back from the future to destroy John Connor. And by "John Connor" I mean "me".
And she was crazy, too. Never have I seen someone so full of issues that they literally went batshit insane whenever you brushed the raw, exposed nerves left unhealed from the years of...er...being her, I guess. She could literally go from saying "I was the best thing that ever happened to her", one minute, and begin hurling obscenities at me, the next. It got to a point where there was nothing I could do or say that wouldn't set her off, so I simply stopped doing anything at all concerning her. Which, ironically, set her off some more. I should probably mention that throughout all this, she maintains that I was abusing her! She also wrote about it on Facebook, and told her friends about it. That dog won't hunt, monsignor!!
For the record, I'd like to state that I have never hit a woman (or a man, for that matter), nor do I come from the school of he/she-who-yells-loudest-wins-the-argument. Hell, When I get mad, I go quiet. But there was no abuse whatsoever going on. But it's nice that she told a bunch of people I don't know alllll about it. Never mind that it's from her extremely-flawed perspective.
Thankfully, she decided to go live with her sister (who is also an annoying bitch, in her own right), leaving me with the remainders of her stuff until she can pick it up. In the meantime, I've been enjoying a kind of bliss the likes of which I can't recall knowing. The absence of a super-crazy bitch.
I remember cracking open some terrible noname-style root beer from in the fridge after she left. She had taken all the food she'd recently purchased (for a change, she was kind of a deadbeat), including cases of pop from the fridge, but left the gross stuff for me. After she left, I remember cracking one of those open, taking a swig, and remarking at how much it tasted like freedom. Well, if "freedom" was a shitty-tasting imitation root beer. But I digress...
All-in-all, I have to admit that it's been very satisfying to not have her around. Much of why I neglected this l'il blog for so long, was because I was wrapped up in taking care of her extra-needy ass. Not to mention that I don't like the idea of her being able to read shit over my shoulder. Simply put, for what she offered, what she required from me was much, much more. I think I'll refer to it as relationship economics.
My next relationship co-conspirator must meet the following criteria:
#1: Have a job. And be able to pay their own bills, and buy their own junk.
#2: Not Be Crazy. Will not abuse the shit out me for issues and baggage that pre-date me and our potential relationship.
I am a bit bummed, though. I miss her cat. He was a cute, agreeable l'il rascal. Not unlike Puss In Boots from Shrek 2. Maybe I should've started dating him. He was way saner.
Ramble-rant over.
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