A New Year.

Is it time for change or just relive another year differently?

I started this year wallowing in depression and unemployment. I end it like the beginning, minus a bit of depression and a tad more optimism.

Jesus, what a waste. I can tick off 2009 as a waste, what I learned can be counted on my fingers. I have to hope 2010 will be something better, but it is entirely up to me.

I guess I'll make up some resolutions on the spot here, for the next two days I'll be drunk and hungover off my ass and then I'll be moving to a foreign town with no plan.

1.) Get out there and be more fucking social. Meet someone that means something.
2.) Drop to 180 pounds.
3.) Enroll and go to school. It's irrelevant what I take, as long as I go.
4.) Be happier. Try and take a positive outlook for a change, fuckface.
5.) Win an amateur fight? (This is being really optimistic and along the thought process I'll keep boxing.)
6.) Get within spitting distance of going or be in Russia.
7.) Learn to be more of a social drinker then a sloppy drunk.

That's pretty good for winging it on the spot I'd say. I think I can do all of it too, amazingly.

Well, the escapade begins. Cheer bros and hoes, hope you all have a great New Years party and get laid.

This year I'll live like I've never lived before, Yeah this is my year for sure.

Here I am.

At home, I'm starting to feel obsolete.

I said goodbye to my buddies at boxing and shook hands with the Coach for the last time in awhile. As I walked out the door I felt my chains fall down and make a clatter on the cold ground, my optimism high. By the time I walked in my front door I had already crashed, my sights set on walking into the night and not coming out. The whole drive I screamed along to The Lawrence Arms, "Criminal," so I feel like my feelings may be justified.

My anger is a sign of disgust with myself, A stewing serenade I hear the sirens on their way. The chemicals inside of me just kept on swimming through my veins, Maybe I should make a move and try to leave this all behind. I listen to the absence of noise, Dead summer breeze, I’m inflated with suspicions. Seems I’ve identified again the criminal of my intent.

I don't know man, when the fuck did I really become such a fucking baby.

I've got harsher mood swings then a cow in heat in the middle of a desert in the summer with no water and a guy trying to suck its tits.

I've got to try and go and upgrade my fucking grades, I've got to make it to University. The plan is to upgrade whatever the hell I need and then go and major in History with minors in Slavic and Physical education. That's just what I spun off the top of my ass, I don't know if you can do that sort of thing, but it's what I want. But then again, when's the last time that fucking counted for two cocks.

I started writing this all pissed off but I've already turned it around to my sarcastic ego. Jesus.

When I get there, asides looking for some sort of job I can tolerate, the first thing I'm going to do is try and find another affordable boxing and squash club. I'm actually into that scene now, which is kind of cool. I never, ever pictured myself liking them and to go out and do it is kind of a thrill in a dull sort of way. Good boxers don't make good writers, so let's hope I don't get too deep. I already feel stupider.

The other possibilities are Ju-jitsu, wrestling, (Maybe. I'm not that gay.) Muay Thai, or kick-boxing. Who knows? Between squash and boxing I've managed to carve a decent body out of my jello mold, so if I really go nuts deep who knows how fine I could end up.

It's up to me in the end, which is the scariest part. I want to go back to being able to trust myself.

AND! I have a follower. Holy fucking shit. The pressure to pump this crap out is intense. So this post is for you, chicky.

Horseshoes for Toilet Paper.

So here I am.

I'm sitting in my kitchen close to midnight writing about my woes. Again.

University said fuck off, I need better Grades. Why didn't I have said grades? I was skipping school for the fun and rebellion of it. I'm stuck with a place in a foreign city with nobody I know, no job or school, and only several days to plan it all because I left everything to the last minute.

There's really no excuses anymore. Where I am today, my looks, my intelligence, my way of living, life choices and self image are of no direct fault to anyone else.

I am a spoiled Western Hemisphere child with nowhere to go because I squandered my talents and opportunities. It is nobody elses fault. I am 100% to blame because I am lazy and took the easy avenue out whenever I saw it.

I see the people around me out having fun, living life and enjoying everything they have. Their hard work in High School paid off and they're in school having a blast, enjoying all there is to enjoy that they earned. I can see this from my vantage point in the gutters.

I have to look at this like some sort of opportunity, to finally turn my shit around and make something work on my own. It is like a fresh start, but I'm not going in with the right mindset right now. I feel confused, beleaguered and out of my league already.

This ride is ending, my luck is finally spent and I'm stuck at a crossroads looking at the forks I have to take.

Where the fuck am I going to end up?

You can have it all, I ain't got the heart to fight total exhaustion; complete breakdown. For the asshole I am, apologies in full. Please, leave me alone. Pull over the van; let me out.

Let's fucking fuck you fucker.

I can't count how many times I've gotten sex as a Christmas or Birthday present.

The sad thing is, it's never any better. The other individual never makes much more of an effort to please me or do anything really awesome; the best I might get is a corset with some stockings or a longer BJ.

Seriously, I can those any time I want? I'm not complaining, but if I'm going to be getting "it" as a gift, I honestly do expect a little more than a casual fuck where I end up getting myself off.

I remember two years ago I had sex for Christmas with an ex and it was bar none the best I've ever had. No questions.

Having sex with someone you care about deeply is such an expierience and it makes every other girl look so bad. When you care and the other cares for you it's a crazy thing, you go into the bedroom wild with passion because you know the person opposite you want's you just as bad as you do them. I remember having sex for hours on end, only stopping for drinks of water and laying into each other twice as hard afterwards. I remember being breathless, sweaty, but above all craving her touch at the end of it.

I remember the foreplay being unimaginable, BJ's that would make your skin crawl and your legs go numb. Going down on her and giving her orgasm after orgasm as you went, finding new and exciting things to try on her. And the sex that followed was just so incredible, she didn't have to try to be sexy while you fucked her, she just was. But when she tried and took control of your body, you lost all function and just did what she said because that's what you wanted more than anything in the world.

Her looks could stop you and you would know what to do to her in a heartbeat, you could feel her desire and skin from across the room. She wanted me to cum as bad as I wanted her to and wouldn't stop until I was satisfied.

This was two years ago. What I've been doing now is just so unsatisfying and boring.

I've been having sex with this girl for nearly three years, give or take on and off between relationships. We know each other. I know what to do to get her off is like understatement of the decade. Yet she still doesn't know how to satisfy me.

Clumsy, awkward dirty talk. Stumbling over positions and what to do. Not being sexy or sexual, we just basically have sex once in awhile whenever we feel like it. We're not a couple and I want to quit this, I'm so very bored.

Sex is sex, but I want someone that wants me back. Wants to feel me like I felt her. The very worst part of that is that the relationship was loosely based on sex it was unforgiveable, in fact if we never had sex again (Which is looking good right now.) I wouldn't care whatsoever. I cared about her so much it didn't matter, I'd do whatever it takes to make her happy.

Instead, I'm alone, cold, bored, and craving attention. Maybe I should go out and find someone.

Merry Christmas. I'm so glad this whole rush is over.

What's my age again?

Today has been ridiculous.

I've already phoned two banks about accounts and payment inquiries, my phone company, a fitness line about an undelivered product and a full refund for it, the Government of Canada regarding my EI cheques and as to why I would be denied for them, and had to go over my Visa statements for errors.

Jesus, I'm not even twenty years old and look at this fucking checklist? My shoulders are tense and sore, my neck is irritated as shit, and I'm sure if I had any sort of problem with my blood pressure I'd be dead.

To top the list, all of a sudden my University dreams may come crashing to a halt after I've gotten a place and paid my admission fees simply due the fact they haven't processed me. All this time I've been waiting for them to call me back they've been waiting for my High School transcript, but not bothering to tell me. Now I'm in a mad dash trying to make sure everything goes through as planned and calling every couple of hours making sure things are rolling.

Fuck my life. This is absolutely crazy, if I don't make it in I'm fucked. What the fuck will I do? How am I going to pay rent now? I'm going to either be ridiculously in debt or just out of luck buttfucked waiting for another semester to start away from home.

Seriously, fuck this. When did I get so old and have all these ridiculous responsibilities?

A day late, a buck short; I'm writing the report on losing and failing. When I move I'm flailing now. And it's happened once again, I'll turn to a friend. Someone that understands and sees through the master plan. But everybodys gone, and I've been here too long to face this on my own. Well, I guess this is growing up.

When did intelligence stop being sexy?

I'm tired now. I thought about this entry and in the process of opening and rebooting my Laptop, I suddenly became tired and then exhausted. This is happening more and more when I go to write, as if my body is somehow trying to prevent me from doing so.

Yeah, well fuck you Bitch. I'm staying up until I do this half-assed.

Do some homework for me. Go find twelve guys online dating profiles or just profiles of themselves on Facebook or Myspace, I don't care. It doesn't really matter.

Now look at what they put about themselves, is it anything that is relevant or useful?

It seems that writing less and giving the person you're trying to intrigue more 'mystery' is the thing to do. Not writing about who they are, what they believe in, or anything of remote relevance usually. It's not just guys, it's everyone. It's like a global fucking plague.

Since when did letting a little bit of yourself go out on the Internet become such a bad thing? I'm not an idiot, I understand privacy is paramount, but let's be honest: Pirates can't get anything out of how much you Love Brad Pitt in fight club for his sculpted abs. You don't have to give your SIN over the 'net, nobody is waiting on the day to come.

I'm sure it's because people are reluctant to read anything more than a few lines about yourself, but if you're introducing yourself to someone you want to make a good impression: you don't often introduce yourself without a few words that you choose carefully.

Why has it come to that? Why have people stopped caring what someone has to say and instead rely on a picture of the opposite to make the difference before conversation can start? Where did intrigue go? Where has falling for someone for what they say and do first gone? It's all so skin deep.

This is, of course, basing everything on meeting someone online and having a description and picture laid out for you to make your move on. I haven't been out and social enough to actually just try meeting someone, but where do you do that now? The bars are full of horny and wasted guys looking for a quick fuck, with enough girls to take care of their needs. Where do you find an honest, good looking and moral girl these days?

Another issue I really have is making yourself seem smart, but not too smart. Acting too bright makes you look kind of like a nob who has nothing better to do then sit in front of your computer screen, where if you act too stupid you might push someone special away. My inner self is a mix of ridiculous immaturity with underlying streaks of passion and interest in odd places. I never know which side of me to bring to the table, or which the person across from me will bring out. It's a rarity when both show up.

Why can't people just be up-fucking-front with you when you meet them and there's a spark?

I'm taking suggestions on how to pull off a sexy nerd or schoolgirl. Send pictures for the latter.

Damaged Merchandise

Another Sunday evening of insecurities. I could have my period around my mental weaknesses.

As I sit and watch TV after a workout (Which, keep in mind, usually puts me on a plateau of arrogance.) I find myself analyzing my own behaviour. I'm watching a show on sex addiction, something I feel I have struggled with at times in life. The show isn't half bad, the characters in it varying and none share any sort of connection with myself. I have every reason to be feeling pretty good.

It's when I start realizing what I'm thinking to myself that I grind to a halt and start turning over the rocks in my mind and come to conclusions I don't like.

As the women on the show break down and discuss the horrible things that have happened to them it dawns that I'm drawn to this. I feel the need to comfort them and think of how I would never do the things mentioned, I seem to think they would want someone like myself. Someone deep and thoughtful, someone who could help them through addiction and the internal pain from the demons that plague them.

It isn't just this show that I've noticed this, I've seen my own behaviour from afar in other things. I feel like I'm just Mr. Right for everyone as they bounce back from depression or addictions, as they move on from that guy that told them he Loved them before I did.

There's another word for what I want to be. A rebound.

I hate intellectually weak women and intelligence and interests are first and foremost in establishing a friendship with someone. I could never date a bimbo strictly for her looks and the sex, I have to see something past that before I even get close to them. I admire strong, independent women who have their own state of mind and beliefs. Coinciding isn't too important for me, music tastes and personal followings are something that I can't ever expect to find someone identical to me.

But at the same time strong women frighten me. A truly strong women with a Heart full of passions and strength is someone that would have to approach me; I simply don't have the sack to make any sort of move or strike up a conversation.

However, if you give me some poor broken down girl who's at the end of her leash and looking for someone to sweep her away, be sure to get my number. I'll be there until she tires of me.

And as I roll around sleepless for another night, another thought comes. I think again of Evelyn and her beautiful personality. I remember her ex that mistreated her and jerked her around forever, her desperation to find something and someone meaningful, and my own timely arrival. Was I just a pick-me-up until she was ready to keep going with her life? I can still see myself on the ground and the faint outline of her as she moves forward.

I do want a strong women, and I do want to try and Love again. However, until I sort my own shit out and clean up my act a little, who's going to come for me? I'm not going to make it on TV for a botched suicide attempt and a broken heart. I really doubt there's someone out there looking for a broken man as I do, women get men for their personality strength and masculinity.

As I wrote this, I panned through Myspace pages of Eastern punk bands, rekindling my desire to experience this scene several years back. I was born into the wrong generation.

Twenty days and counting.

Lie to me, like you used to.

I'm just a man of words.

I hide behind what I say and what I make myself out to be, but when it comes to being me I clam up. Freeze, look away, show disinterest.

I'll portray myself beautifully and accurately, I can flirt with the best of men. I'll make you think whatever I want you to think of me but when it's time to meet I'm just another nobody.

It's time I really started becoming truly happy with myself and and 100% comfortable with my own body. It's been far too long, years too long.

Because in the end it never matters what I think. And I can barely tell the sky from the shoreline, and I can see myself reflecting in your eyes; and this was all a dream. And it's coming back to me.

All my ex's say heyooo

I have such a strange relationship with my ex-girlfriends.

I'm going to have to toot my own horn a little and then blast my character shortly afterwords, so bear with me.

As far as shit goes, shit being life, I've got it pretty good. I live in the western hemisphere and come from a Loving and financially stable family, so I have little that should bother me. I get enough to eat and drink, go where I want to for the most part, and have never really had to fight for anything in my life.

But where shit suddenly hits a brick wall is my relationships.

I'm a good guy. I'll be honest. When a drunk chick asks me to take advantage of her, I tell her to fuck off. When someone needs advice that potentially hurts, I give it anyways. I'm up front with people and rarely lie about pointless things, and when I'm committed to someone, I'm committed to telling the full truth with said person. I've never cheated, and I've never actually broken up with a girl. I've been dumped like...Oh who cares. I'm polite and for the most sensitive to other girls feelings, and when I need to make a change, I do my best.

But as soon as a girl hits the ex list everything seems to go drastically wrong.

I suddenly think that this person has somehow wronged me and needs to either be fucked or abused in various ways. I've been having this totally bullshit on-off thing with my first ever lasting girlfriend for years now, and it's totally ridiculous. I don't treat her all that well, lie to her, have had sex with other girls while we were still fucking, and eat at her house and eat her food at least once a week.

So much for a gentlemen. I'm just as much of a fucking pig as every other loser out there.

As for the rest, it's all shitty. One I pushed so far away with my snivelling and total emotional breakdown after we split I'd be surprised if she ever gave me the time of day again. The others get random drunk texts asking to hook up or just whatever is on my totally inebriated brain.

So what is it? Why do women suddenly just become such...objects to me once they're done with me? Am I really that petty and bitter deep down?

The next gal' I find that I care enough about to be with I may just have to propose to her on our one week anniversary. Lord knows what will happen once she gets tired of me what I'll do to her. I'm tired of doing that to women, and it needs to stop. I'm making a stand, even if it means cutting ties with a fuck buddy and some idle chit chat friends.

Going back to school is presenting more and more opportunities.