A taste of Irony

I've always been my own biggest fan when it comes to advocating the philosophy of changing something if you aren't happy.

But yet I'm sitting home alone on a Saturday night with no romantic interest and nothing to do. I feel like as more time passes since Evelyn I change and change as I feel necessary but nothing seems to come of it. I get restless and feel the need to move on because the reinvention I coveted in the city has rolled over me; although people see me very differently I'm still unhappy with a lot of things. I'm running out of things to approach to change without straying drastically from my core personality. I'm not prepared to do that.

I really want this transfer to the Philippines. I really want another tattoo. I really want someone to take notice; whether it be my jujitsu coach, the blond girl that always smiles at me in the basement of the Young building or even just an old friend looking to reminisce on what we used to do together.

So this is how that feels

Movember hasn't been a month of happy moustaches.

Not only has school poured it on and forced me to not only concentrate and seriously buckle down 7 days a week, but unlike most classes I'm used to taking I'm forced to do well on my final exams to pull myself out of the dangerous C+ range I'm currently in for almost all my classes. This doesn't cause a ton of stress, but it casts images of self doubt over myself and plays tricks on me when I sleep. What really eats me alive is whats been happening in my personal life.

Since Evelyn left I've had a squeeze on the side. I know I'm still petrified of commitment at most levels so I keep the asshole facade strong most days of the week to most girls. If I don't come off as a dick, I'm probably not talking or keeping to myself at the back at class. So having someone to be intimate with, if only once every couple of weeks is really quite important. I can relax and just let myself slip, pretending I'm with someone or even just have an intense moment with her. It really makes a difference in personal happiness, despite whatever she may think of me and how it might just be sex.

The point is she's moved on and found someone she actually wants to be with or maybe it's just another fuck. I haven't really asked.

Either way, she is more than constituted to do so. We were in no way a couple or together, asides the fact we had been having sex for quite some time, so she is 'allowed' to do whatever it is she wants. In some ways I am happy for her, I know she hasn't met anyone in a long time and also has commitment problems so it's good to hear she is moving ahead and making good of her life.

But why wasn't I good enough?

Why have I never been good enough for a women to want to stay with me, even under troubled circumstances? Is it the way I treat them, the things I do, the strange values I put on sex? I want her back because without her I feel inadequate all over again, just like when Evelyn left. I feel unaccomplished despite the large amount of effort I put into so many categories to avoid just that. And this where school creeps up on me. I realize I'm still in college with an average GPA, trying to blot out personal issues with women and going through a dry spell which is beginning to really hurt my self-confidence.

The difference between me and my squeeze is that she's had ample opportunity. All this time she has been going out she's had ample opportunity to go home with a wide variety of guys, or even date some real winners. She's been waiting patiently forever and making herself content with the odd relationship we've had. I haven't. I haven't had any opportunities in nearly two and a half years. I haven't had chances to go home with anyone, date anyone special, or make any real connections.

I ran to the city to reinvent myself and restart my academic progression. I feel like I'm hitting a plateau right now, going nowhere and able to see my exe's climb higher and higher without me.

The school offers an exchange program to the Philippines and I'm seriously considering it. I feel like I'd be running again, but I also feel the major wanderlust pulling at my heart and begging me to see the world. I feel so trapped by the restrictions at home and just want to be far away from all of this ridiculous crap and prove to myself I can stand on my own.

But even more I want to prove to myself I am compatible with others and that I do have a shred of charm left.

Bedtime hunger

I can work/ study tired. I can work upset or even a little distracted most days. What I can't do is work hungry-nothing gets done.

And when the fridge is empty like this it's hard to get anything done, despite how much I know I have to do. The work isn't slowing and I've just got too much to do for me to be hungry and pushing things aside in frustration like I am. My nights shouldn't be spent pissing time away on Youtube or wishing I had someone to talk to. Because someone to really talk to, to have a serious or even an intimate conversation these days has become a serious rarity.

And someone like that is important, because it really only starts to become a necessity when you realize you don't have anyone to go to. To confide in, to let loose the dark parts of your heart, to share the bitter feelings that threaten to black out what you have. It seems like I've been gaining nothing but baggage for friends these last years, the old friends that this would come out to have fallen away or out of favor. I realize I can be fickle, but I also realize that despiteless of how badly I just need to scream and throw out my troubles that I'm better off without these people.

What I would say is that I'm so tired of even showing inner shades of anything of myself and having it dismissed or blown away by every other male around me or just shut down. I'm really beginning to realize how disconnected I am from most people, I've loooooonnng ago accepted I've never been normal or one to fit in with any sort of clique or student family- and for the most part I'm happy with it. I do have a a general disdain for most people and an arrogant lip curl that I can't remember inheriting. I do look down on people from some ridiculous pedestal I seem to have carved myself but have no reason to.

With all this discontent sleep loss follows. I sweat myself awake and toss and turn all night; I dream of Love that wasn't to be leading me along with a string around my neck that I can't let go of, and I dream of lust. I dream myself awake and I blink at the force of the dream, trying hard to make sure it wasn't real and if it was what would I do? Even though I would classify some as nightmares I still chase them after I wake.

The weekend is here and I'm chasing all of this with a bottle. I know it's a temporary high and a quick fix that surely won't solve any problems and potentially even create some, but I'm excited for the solice it brings. Other than that, the rest of the weekend I'm more excited about seeing some good friends. Although we can't talk like I'd want to, they're always able to excite and make me happy. The close ones anyways.

Happy Halloween, bitches.

School is totally cool on Saturdays

I don't know what all the fuss is regarding sleeping alone. Whenever I have someone stay the night now I never do much sleeping, regardless of what does or doesn't happen.

Maybe it's because I've done it for so long alone or the fact that she snores. I'd rather have that bed for myself.

On a much cooler note, it's uncool to sit in a library trying to study while your sinuses feel like they're trying to swallow your face. I can't decide if I need to cry or just yank off my nose to try and get whatever is pinching the inside of my eyes out.

Well you've become predictable

I was just yanking you about the threesome thing. I mean it might still be in the works, but knowing me I won't be able to write about until I do something totally crazy/wrong/awesome so we'll keep holding our breath on that. "Why would I want to have a threesome, so I can disappoint two women at once?" Hah! I Love that quote.

I've gone back to wishing for my long lost womenhood.

If anything, my womanizing skills have gone up lately. I've made a ton of new galfriends but none of them hold any lasting or special potential. I can't help but think that in a few years I'll just be another face somewhere hidden on their Facebook profile when they're smiling at me, and while this is surely the case for most if not all friends met during college this still eats at me deep down. I wish I could make some really true girlfriends, I have so few. The few I have either just want to fuck my brains out (Woe is me, right?), only want to see me when I'm drunk or don't bother trying to hold up a decent conversation.

I may come off sounding like the worlds largest faggot to roam the Earth here, but I don't see this as healthy. I don't have sex with other women and haven't had sex with a (different) women since High school, they've all been throwbacks or almost/just abouts/you're too fat for this lady. I honestly believe healthy/one night stands are good for you and help you grow; my maturity and understanding of what women like, want and understanding has gone through the roof but I still get all nervous about sexual interaction. In fact, it downright terrifies me.

I've had (A few, I'm not that much of an arrogant asshole so settle down) girls from across the bar throw themselves at me and I've gone home alone when I could have gone home with two girls or one very cute one because I'm nervous about such trivial shit. When I hear about all these girlfriends of mine sick and tired of meeting 3-4 guys a night it's all I can do to keep my jaw closed and not falling all over the fucking floor. This guy wants to buy your booze for the night and get you drunk, is willing to put up with whatever drivel bullshit you want to talk about just for the chance of smelling what's under that miniskirt and if you say no will probably fuck off back to his friends without an ounce of shame-for every man knows what it's like to be rejected and be given nothing in return for his hard work.

Sweet Jesus I wish I could do that.

No money, effort or any sort of worry involved. If nobody does come up to me or I'm an ugly as fuck girl, whatever. I can always just dance, throw my hair around on the dance floor and grind with other girls because that's still socially acceptable and fun. I know tons of girls that don't even pre-drink or bother getting drunk just because they can either get drunk from horny rich dudes or just have fun dancing with friends. I have to pass half a bottle before I start thinking about getting behind, in front or even beside a girl-despite how well my latest gym endeavors and jiu-jitsu have been going.

I've always had this massive ego and a horrendous self-consciousness I manage to conceal from everyone. What a stupid mix.

I kissed a girl and I liked it!

Every Word of Every Song

...Is about me, and I know it.

I hate it. I hate how someone could draw inspiration from something like me being crushed like I was and turn it into something so beautiful. Every chord was drawn from us and every last emotion and change of pitch thrived on our relationship.

I wish my writing could be more reflective on my mood 85% of the time, but it isn't. The blog has become a place to dump my fears, inner demons and anxiety before I sleep or right after I become provoked with intense thought. I also wish my writing was less about Evelyn, but expressing my inner thoughts and shedding skins is synonymous with her.

Next time around will be good though, I promise. I'm too tired and sick of writing at the moment to elaborate but I've got a juicy sex issue burning up inside. To three(or 4?)some, or not to?

Love will keep us Alive

When it comes to cynical (Or critical, I get either alot) thinkers, I'm usually leading the charge into the face of optimism or wishful thinking. But my recent philosophy class left me a little shaken with a hint of thoughtful.

The thought that Love might just be chemicals in your brain being released to certain triggers a man/women gives off doesn't sit well. I understand it, I believe it, but I don't like it. I've always envisioned Love to be much much more than that, not just occytosin or dopamine being released (Dopamine by the way is the same chemical that is triggered through sex, cocaine or other forms of happiness or getting high...Ugh). Love is something that doesn't just make you high or crazy, it's not something that when the Love is gone you want to kill yourself, Love is...

I'd be an idiot to think I could know how to describe Love. The greatest philosophers in the world have all come up with terms, arguments and theories that have been widely accepted around the world. I bet if I could talk all fancy and expand my mind the way they do, I would put a verbal fuckin' smackdown on those weiners-but I can't. So since this is my blog and those bitches aren't around to talk trash, I'll write my PHD theories on this bad boy.

It's certainly been awhile since I've felt the genuine feelings for someone and really had myself stumbling over my every sentence. There has been some blips on the radar here and there, there has been people which make me nervous and sweat over stupid shit and there definitely has been girls I've found myself attracted to not only in a purely physical way. What I haven't had is a combination of all of the above.

This is strictly personal, so who knows what the universal is mind you. I remember meeting all of the girls I would say I've Loved in the past, and not a single one would immediately get me excited. In fact, first impressions were pretty standard. Another girl, decent looking, a solid 6-7 on the hotness scale. What really engaged me was the talk, within a couple of awkward minutes I began to open up and begin to get a laugh. As soon as the laughter came, that's when I knew. Every single time. After a couple hours of conversation, things began to change. Features began to become smoother, blemishes began to become features and imperfections began to become fascinations.

It didn't take long for these women to become steadily more attractive and personalities to become riveting, almost like a book that needed to be read and understood. Sex suddenly became a possibility, never a foremost thought or an obsession but a growing desire that seemed to burn inside. A passion for another persons body and the innate curiosity to explore, touch, feel and learn.

All of these feelings are so distant. All of these memories are so tragic and none have ended the way I would ever have hoped for. There is a fondness in remembering, but there is a bitter taste at the end of every sentence that won't leave my lips. I want that fondness back without the aftertaste.

We are made from Chemicals, but what holds us together is much more than that. You are strong, so much stronger than me all along- 'cause you are everything and I am nothing.

Why does this already feel like a tragedy?

How can it be that when you see someone so defeated, so broken down that you can feel envy?

Maybe it's because that you know that they can only go up from there, where as wherever you are in the world you know you've got alot of growing and still more suffering to endure.

I don't envy the dead.

What the fuck am I cut out for?

Fun fact: I'm totally typing this in a Gi. (Those white dresses you see kung-fu done in!)

I can't remember a time when I was doing something that just felt right. It seems like everything I get up to is very close to being proper, but not just. I'm not complaining, school is definitely where I think I should be-but there's something missing. I feel like I take 65% of the lesson and lecture plan home with me, and when I try to read my arrogance swallows me and prevents me from getting any further. As soon as I get in over my head (which is happening alot with the some of the material I have to read) I get discouraged, angry and then disgusted. Book hits the binder and I'm on Facebook seeing if someone wants to talk to me.

I think I get by with my unnatural ability to spin bullshit and vague memories of things I realize I should care about. I don't read books for knowledge, I read them with the intent of finding answers to questions I know I'll have to answer. If the book doesn't hold what I want when I skim over it, it's to Google or elsewhere for an easy answer. Has my own mind bailed out on me?

I can't force myself to read all day. I don't retain what I read and it's a fruitless task, even if I know something has to be done for the morning. This frustrates me even more and I feel useless, like everything I'm trying to get from my life isn't working. It does make me want to quit-even though I know I won't. It just reflects badly on my grades, which are the only thing that show how successful I am at what I'm doing. Are they true? Do I deserve the A's and B's or am I right to receive C's? What will I graduate with? And nigguh what the fuck is a scholarship because I sure suck at getting them!

We can all be free.
Maybe not with words,
Maybe not with a look-
But with your mind.

Irreconcilable Differences

I just burnt the ever Loving shit out of my fingers from steam from my pasta sauce, so this will probably be quicker than I originally thought.

What is it with people obsessing over identical partners?

I guess it would be cool to talk with people you can directly relate to and have everything in common, hell, I've had it? But wouldn't it be nice to have someone as a polar opposite or just different?

I mean for me I'm pretty outgoing, like to drink and party and take my clothes off doing so, like to read about History in my (SPARE!) time, and like to keep fit and eat healthy and whatnot. So I think good conversation would be someone who doesn't necessarily hate all of these things and does their own thing would spice things up. Sure, relating with people is neato and all fun in a touchy-feely sort of way, but eventually this leads to problems. Sure, being very different people will obviously cause trouble much quicker but at least it's out there and everyone knows how much the other person hates/dislikes/ abhors said practice.

Where's the natural curiosity and the desire to try shit out? I'm one impatient guy, but having the chance to explore another person on an extremely personal way excites me. Making small talk sucks, period. So why not skip that garbage and find out what makes people tick and what turns their crank? It doesn't even have to be sexual, you can get so much more out of a person when you speak honestly about body language between each other and ask the questions that you realize you wouldn't ask normally.

Maybe I'm saying this because I'm beginning to realize more and more I'm not going to find alot of people that relate to me on any sort of personal level or even have a good laugh with on a regular basis. I'm not upset about that, I'm upset that it 'scares' people away though. I really wouldn't ever classify myself under any sort of intimidating banner, despite what I may say or think about when someone close does something that gets my goat. It happens frequently, but I've never been a man of serious action.

I guess I'm a supafreak. I'm supafreaky and I'm not right for not nobody on this wide world. I'll get by.

What does our closest future hold; day and time I suppose.

And one night could last forever

I'm falling asleep as we speak with someone elses taste on my lips.

I'd forgotten what it's like to fall asleep to sweet dreams like these.

S is for Summer and Sundowner

Goood evening!

What a summer it has been...I may have been incoherently drunk for a better part of it with good friends or lying around on beaches with a beer in hand, but who's to complain? I've had a good one even if I didn't work and haphazardly sauntered through schoolwork and mundane tasks, but I don't necessarily feel great about that. I'm sure I'd be happier with more money, but as it is life is pretty cool being thrifty. I made a water bottle out of an empty soap bottle so now people are going to think I'm drinking Sunlight and am nuts as hell.

I haven't made a ton of friends, I've just expanded on the group I had before the summer started which is pretty cool. It takes fooorever to get into circles of friends and I'm still experiencing unanswered texts and having to call whenever I want something to happen. It's been a lot of summer movies and I've seen a ton of great flicks so far. Notables would include Inception, Brick, and Sunshine. All totally different juanras and off the beaten path of regular film which is why they're good.

I've been outside, partying, or hanging with people all August so I doubt I'll want to write while there's still sun kissing my skin all day and night. It's been a struggle to write this little blip.

Man I want the new Sundowner album so damn bad. I've just been listening to it non-stop.

And when I'm grey and blue I've got pictures of you, and when I'm blue and grey I've got clouds to chase away.

I'm outgoing?

I keep getting all this weird and rather unfamiliar feedback about my 'new' lifestyle from friends I haven't seen in awhile.

Asides the fact that everyone continues to tell me to get a job and ask consistently about my tattoos over and over...the other thing that gets brought up is how fun and outgoing I am. Not very many people can keep up with me when I'm out on the town, after a day on the beach most are too tired to do anything else, and even just going to the lake wears people out after a swim across.

Seriously, I'm not in that great of shape. Do I have higher standards of exercise and what consists of a busy day than others, or just the people I hang around with?

This wasn't worth writing about at all, but I felt the need to type something to put my mind at ease.

Midterms tomorrow. Haven't studied an ounce and not worried a bit about it.

Just the thought of...

Just thinking of her provokes so many emotions.

Just the simple thought of a tilt of her head, her hair falling down to her sides and her eyes on me makes me squirm. Her slow but beautiful smile growing as she rubs her hands across my chest, her gentle laughter as she sees how nervous I get everytime she touches me. And then the thought of desire, how enticing every curve of her body is and the knowledge that she feels the same of me. The thought of skin on skin, our bodies melting together with slick sweat and grasping hands as they desperately feel their way across each other. And then the truth pops, I'm alone at home and so is she. But I know she still thinks of me in the same way.

And then as I get up to shower, the thoughts turn and twist like a wounded boxer throwing his desperate punches into thin air. I think of other men violating her, touching her where I had once laid claim to myself. I feel my gorge rise, a bitter and guttural snarl building in my throat and escaping through my limbs with barely checked aggression. I shake my arms out and crank my neck around, feeling my muscles awaken, blood flowing through my veins and heart rate spike. I think of other men saying words and phrases I know could never be as true as what we once had and I turn the dial to maximum, feeling the hot water race across my body.

I grit my teeth in the shower, feeling my neck muscles bunch and tighten as my open and close my jaw in a controlled fury. As I think of every other man that's touched her, no matter how insignificant, I look down on my own body and evaluate. I imagine breaking his nose, picking him up by the waist and slamming him down on the pavement, ducking a punch and hammering my fists into his ribs over and over.

And then I think of the loss.

I imagine losing and the humiliation it would bring and I start to sober up, like a drunk being brought back to consciousness with IV's. The world around me loses its colour, and everything slowly begins to fade back to greys and whites. I imagine her yelling at me, telling me how fucking stupid I am for even thinking that me hurting someone she now cares about could make any shred of difference. I imagine lying on my back, physically and emotionally drained with bruises and blood scattered across my defeated body as she walks away.

I dry myself with a towel, my features relaxed and my world quiet. As I reach for my socks I hear her laughter as another man tickles her ribcage and moves his fingers up to her armpit and continues his torment. I imagine her hysterical and high pitched squeals as she tries to heave away, but he is too big and too strong and manhandles her back down to continue tickling and making her laugh. As my boxers slide on I see her pushing her hands and fingers to his chest, gliding down to his stomach and pelvis; I see her bite her lip and breath quicken as she thinks of what she wants to do.

I come out refreshed but trapped in my past. I think of her alone, I look around my own house and see nothing but distractions and idle time wasters. I think of what I've lost and begin to feel a familiar nothingness creep into my heart and head, already welcoming the blackness of incoherent and idle thought. I open my textbooks and she disappears, replaced with roaring muskets and economic figures.

She's gone until I talk to her again, but it always starts and ends the same.

Fall

I want the wind on my face, a warm jacket wrapped around my body and neck with the Autumn leaves crunching beneath my feet.

I want the world around me to die and wither and have the ability to just wade through it all, kicking amber fireworks into the air.

Feelings of Old

I'm beginning to feel my heart tug at me again for the first time in a very long time.

It was after I had been driving for something like six hours, I was on the drive home from a fucking amazing but sunburnt filled camping trip a few days ago when I realized how empty the house would be when I got home.

And all of a sudden, school and going back to the city and surrounded by women again seemed daunting and unappealing. I wished I could have stayed out where there is no such thing as laptops or cell phone reception, or even the people that I want to see but know won't call won't be around for me to dream about.

I wished for a warm house and a warm smile, a knowing look on her face as my craggy and unshaven features enter the room with weary but lustful eyes. I wished for someone that wanted my company and wanted to ask me what I thought of every little thing, someone to run her fingers over my shoulders as I got into bed.

I'm over it mostly. I can still hear old pillow talk conversations in my bed before I sleep sometimes, and I'm beginning to have trouble sleeping again. Time away from the gym and more time spent grinding out theories, hypothesise and the start of what seems like an endless torrent of history papers doesn't wear me out. I'm just too poor to afford going to a decent gym anymore. My budget for food has plummeted, and I'm a little worried on where I'm going to get next months rent from.

I wish the summer was over and I could say I had the time of my life. I wish it was October and the rains were coming, along with the wind and clouds.

But it's still summer and who knows how it might turn out. Chamberlain Waits by the Menzingers has fueled my last two weeks, infiltrating every thought and every spare moment. What an amazing album.

Please, seat yourself; usher of times won't recognize you.

Interwebz

The Internet really weirds me out sometimes, even though I've been raised with it.

Pre Internet, how could you follow along with what your favorite author was doing and how books were coming along in the UK? How could you hear what your favorite band's lead singer was thinking about (felching, beer, kids, etc.) when he wasn't rockin' the fuckin' joint year round? How would you know how many guys your ex has chewed through in the last 6 months?

Now I follow all of it. Every time any one of them has something to say, think about, or even just off handedly mention, I get it. I may be on the West Coast of Canada and they might be in 'burbs of Chicago or even across the Atlantic, but within seconds of them saying anything I have immediate access to whatever they want me to see.

How fucking weird is that! I don't care if I've grown around it and spent hungover Friday nights doing dishes and watching stupid shit on Youtube, it still gets to me a little and makes me do a double take. I can even follow my favorite pornstars and jerk off to their every new move and curve on Pornhub. Weird. Totally weird.

In other news, I continue to keep getting too drunk on holidays. I'm officially too rowdy for most people after a little gin. I've grown to "double" the size I was in grade ten and am apparently close to becoming one of those assholes who flaunts his rock-hard chiseled body to the bitches too often. I'm also a roaring mass of testosterone and people have been commenting on my energy levels, which I've always considered lower than most.

Who knew.
"Blame the suits, who line their pockets with her tears. Blame the boys in the blindfolds covering their ears."

Hope

You have to believe the things you want to change the most will. Because if you don't, you don't have a hope of making anything better or the way you want it.

I've been hoping for so long, working so hard at what I want, and yet everything seems so very far away. It's times like these you have to hope that the things you want will eventually come to you, despite how hard it is to keep the faith or remain optimistic.

My biggest adversary is myself.

I wish I had the heart and determination of some of the people you meet. I've just never been passionate about anything to really just dive in balls deep, despiteless what the tattoos on my shoulder mean. Even on my History exam the other day, I realized that with what I had already written I had earned a B at the very least, so I cut the rest of my answers short so I could leave and come home early to Youtube.

History is supposed to be what I am, it's my major and passion. I read about it on my spare time, study it in school, and know more than most people twice my age. Yet I still have an uncertain future with my degree, where I will finish it, and what I will make of it. The tattoos on my shoulder limit me to the west out of personal paranoia, even though the call to Moscow is like a needle in my heart.

The summer already feels like it's passing me by. I'm looking forward to a month of rain and the atmosphere it brings.

Competitive Nature

I'm stoked for this to come in the mail. How sick is that?

I wish I had a once a weekly outlet of aggression, like road hockey or indoor soccer or something.

Preferably I'd be in the middle of the pack, not the worst or the best but still a relevant threat. I can't believe how different I've become from Evelyn leaving me and being single as long as I have. I'm fiercely competitive over everything deep down, despite how much I may or may not let on. A refusal to back down in the face of oppression or aggression, something totally new to me. I've always been an instigator and had a mouth, but it feels like now if someone were to start with me I would just finish. I'd like to think so anyways.

At 5'11 I've never considered myself short, but I'm always surrounded by taller and older guys with bigger arms and more money than me. As frustrating as it is, it's almost a way of life. I'm unsure of what anyone actually perceives me as. I guess I'm blending better than I used to.

Boo-Tea-Call

I need one.

I get like bad urges. I'll be sitting around doing homework or something and then bam! I'm an animal. Every last bit of my body wants sex and I can feel my heart rate spike as I think about it.

And all these redheads in this city? Murder! I would get on so many of them and leave every one gasping for breath.

I need a goddamn time machine.

Because if I had one, I would go back seven years or so to my first bantam league tryout. I would tip the edge of my stick with a razor blade.

And then right before that fucking inbred cocksucking second year fatass cross-checked me from behind into the boards headfirst I would turn around and cut his fucking leg off. Seriously. I would.

Because that fucker pulled a dirty hit on a hundred and ten pound first year who was nervous about hitting in the first place, not only was I reluctant to hit for the rest of the year I seriously fucked up my back.

My bottom disks are partially fused, so whenever I sit down slouched for too long or lift anything heavy the slightest bit improperly I pull them apart and they go straight sideways. Not only is it excruciatingly painful, it's really hard to try and get them back into place.

All because that dirty bitch-titted ass plunger decided to be a dick and show off to his buddies on the bench. A twenty second play has lasted for over eight years and caused me alot of fucking pain.

The broken bone in my nose from boxing doesn't bug me too much because I stepped into the ring knowing what could happen, but this was totally unacceptable and unsportsmanlike to the extreme. If I ever see you again Cameron whateverthefuck your last name is I'm going to fucking drop you. With a bag of nickles. Or a roll of nickles behind my fist. Or maybe I'll fucking hit you from behind unexpectedly you fucking webtoed cum gargler. Fuuuuckkk you!!!!

I pulled my back at the gym. Now it fucking hurts like a whore. I feel better ranting at that faggot though.

You have to wonder.

All those songs you sing, I understand every single word like you were still whispering it in my ear. I still hear you singing them to me, and the thought of you saying those words to anyone else burns like acid reflex. I may be over you, I may have moved on, but I haven't seen anyone else. I'm still alone and you're gone. You've moved on and you've found others.

And although I'm sure we both know it won't work between us, I still hate the fact that someone else can have you.

You're the reason I've changed. I'm stronger, smarter and fiercely competitive because of you. But I'm also bitter, sullen, and angry deep down at people for having found the happiness I once had.

You may not knock me down for the day with news of boyfriends or off having fun again without me, but I still feel that burn.

What would happen if I looked in your eyes again and found my smile? Would I still lose my breath afterwards and bite my lips in anticipation of being close to you? And if I did, would you still notice and smile? Would we even recognize each other anymore?

The rest of my day will be spent in reflection, a dark anger brewing behind whatever facade I put up. But tomorrow you will be gone until I see your face and remember what I need to do to keep moving. Keep fighting. Keep learning.

I've been revolving like Turnstiles...

I don't care, I don't care...

Fuck but I do. I wish you would just stay single Evelyn. I wish you all the happiness in the world and I can honestly say I am for the most part over you...

But I still can't stand the thought of you in someone elses arms. I want to beat the fuck out of whoever it is.

I want someone to want me. I'm happy, I'm not lonely, but I want to be desired more than anything else right now.

Happy 100th, Musings!

Happy 100 posts to me! It may come off as lame, but I'm scoring this one as an achievement for sticking to it and continuing to blog and get all that shit I need off my chest.

I really hate going home.

I Love Victoria BC! I always thought I would hate the city but it turns out I Love the smaller city, it's an amazing and happening place to live. But what really strikes me as odd is that no matter where you go, people are always saying the same things. "There's nothing to do here!"

I come from a small town where all there is to do is drugs, alcohol or sit around and game like crazy. So when I moved to the big city full of clubs, pool halls, pools, squash courts, fields, strip clubs, gyms, and everything else and someone tells me that this city is too small and there's nothing to do I'm a little shocked. People seem to be more and more attention deficit and harder and harder to please, needing higher stimulus and subsequently expensive things to keep themselves remotely entertained for a short while.

It turns out it just matters it's the people you're with.

When I went home for the weekend I couldn't find someone that actually wanted to be around me. I got told they were "busy" doing "top secret" things and wasn't invited. Turns out they were blowing up balloons for a friends party. Going out for dinners that was strictly "BFF's" only. Or just sitting around in a group watching Tv together, without me mind you. When I did get to friends, they sat around and played video games like they were before I got there or continued to watch TV.

Now, I really don't think I'm super special and need to be babied or given more attention when I'm around people, but when I haven't seen someone for a few months I would think they would want to converse or ask what's going on with me. Turns out they would rather keep doing what they've been doing since I was gone and that is play video games or get drunk.

I'm not invited to anything but drinking parties. I get the impression that in a few years time when they start to get married and I show up at the wedding I'll be nothing more than a shit disturber to them, someone who's a rowdy drunk or loud and obnoxious. Well of course I am, but is that the only side you want to get to know of me? It seems like it. I won't know these people in a few years and they'll continue to live and go off with their own little groups to do ridiculously fun things without me like they always have.

So I guess I'm going to stop going home. I sat around trying to do something with people and instead waited around all day to go to a drama-filled, boring ass and poorly planned birthday party. Fuck those guys. At least here people text me asking me to do things, actually wanting to hang out with me and then supplementing the evenings with alcohol as a side thought instead of focusing everything around it.

If people want to see me, they should have to come to me. I'm tired of going out on a limb for no reason at all. I want to be wanted. I want to be desired. I want to be remembered for my company and personality, not the funny drunk one.

Happy 100 to me. I hope I'm ushering in yet another era for myself.

A fucking History juggernaut!

I've been saying this about myself for the last few weeks. I really feel like a full fledged historian and I Love it. I want to change the stereotype of geeky little fags who look as dumb as they sound when they talk.

I Incorporated squats into my workout and hate it. My legs have been sore for fucking days now and I can barely go up stairs. It seriously sucks hella ass and I hate how they can be as good for me as they are.

I feel good about myself. I deleted my Blond Assassin off Facebook. All my exes seem so fucking whiny or not a scrap different from when they left me. Good riddance. I'm happy alone and even though I don't really get ass or anything., I feel strong, I feel in shape, and I'm proud of what I've done. I even don't mind my hair on days.

The blog has become a place to get out my casual slang talk instead of being so fucking formal like every stupid paper has to be. Considering I'll be going to school straight through until next April, I need a chance to vent swear and promote my big muscly chest. 14 Inch biceps? Uh-huhhhh.

You can't touch this.

Were you expecting someone else?

I really didn't expect much to happen. I didn't know what to say when I did talk to her.

I showed it to her. She didn't know what to say either. Now we're even more awkward than before. It's like getting punched in the stomach.

Ah life is not terrible though. Summer classes, being a total history geek in a class full of RETARDS is actually pretty fun.

"What the fuck is Imperialism, like I'm a social worker and have never heard the term man."

"It's AMERICA you dumb FUCK! Like how the FUCK have you been raised not knowing about British Imperialism in the late nineteenth century you stupid fucking boner-biter? Were your parents inbred or did you just breast feed until 24? FUCK get out of my fucking discussion group you car-jacking limp shitdicked ASSHOLE!!!!!!!"

I didn't say that shit. Should have.

Man the quality of my writing has like plummeted since I got into college. At least on my blog. Contradiction?

What do I want?

You'd think for once when something went my way I'd just be happy about it.

I was at the bar last night for a hypnotist show, which was alright at best. Two weeks ago I got hypnotized by the same guy and I wanted to watch the show this time and see other people do stupid shit like have "orgasms" and tell the hypnotists mic to call him Tyrone while he fucked her.

Anyways, I was hanging out in the bar waiting for my roommate to get out of the bathroom when one of the girls who had gotten hypnotized last night came up to me and said she saw me when I was on stage. She proceeded to tell me how funny I was, how much fun it was, and then introduced me to her friend. She told me I should stay and party with them, which I was a little skeptical of because I'm so dirty broke it's insane. She said I should get really drunk with her and her friend, which they were both pretty insistent on. I told them no I really couldn't afford it and I was ready to go home, so eventually they said bye and went back to the dance floor.

Of course, my roommate had come back and seen all of this and told me to take off my moron helmet and get in there. He then proceeded to leave and told me just to try it, I can always leave but I don't get many chances like that.

So I stayed. I grabbed a beer and headed back out, which both chicks were ecstatic about. As soon as I started dancing I could tell they were both pretty drunk, which when I'm stone cold sober is always a turn off. The next thing I couldn't help but notice was the way they were grinding on me and making out with each other...

The friend kept pulling me in between the two of them, clearly trying to feel my cock the whole time. The other one kept mouthing things to me, running her nails down my back, feeling my chest, rubbing my arms.

Have I mentioned ever that those are all some of my biggest turn ons? Every single one of those drives me absolutely wild and gets me going instantly. Seriously, reading the words gets me a little excited.

No joke, I could have mentioned off-handedly we should go back to my house and I could of had these girls wrapped around my dick in a heartbeat. Both were ready to go, and both were totally cool with the whole promise of sharing a bed.

A weird thing happened when I was dancing though. As I looked around, I couldn't help but notice all of the other women in the club and how much more I wanted each and every single one of them. Both these girls were Asian and maybe a six out of ten in hotness; BUT COME THE FUCK ON! WHO CARES! It's a fucking threesome! How do you say no to it!

Well I did. I walked out on them after about half an hour of absolute filthy dancing, girl on girl action and went home alone.

I'd like to say it's integrity but I also have to contribute it to a few other things.

1.) If I was drunker, this would have been a no brainer. I probably would have skipped the dance floor and just hopped a bus with them.

2.) My blond assassin. Ever since that day when she came and I wasn't able to get it up for her, I haven't been able to get her out of my head. (Read about her here- http://musethisbitch.blogspot.com/2009/08/blond-assassin.html) Whenever I'm with a random now the very first thing that I have to think of is "Will I be able to go?" I realize that she was something much, much more than some randomass girl in a club but it still scares the beJesus out of me thinking that might happen again.

3.) There was a level on integrity. I'll take an ounce of credit and say that I did think it was wrong to try and milk this sort of thing; although I would definitely say the bigger parts were played by the much drunker girls and Grace.

This whole thing has really got me thinking alot. I want to talk to someone to talk to about this, but who the fuck can you trust with information like this?

I think I might actually try and go to her with it. It's not like we've talked since or anything.

I was never about this, never about this low.

I'm tired of being shot down. I'm even more tired of putting myself out there only to watch people twist away from me.

It's time like these I wish violence could solve something and I could just smash my way through this. Ugh. Masculine thoughts.

Things have changed, forever.

I was talking to a friend from high school and he remarked how much I had changed.

I looked up and said "Oh totally, I'm a different person."

He wasn't saying I was nicer, thinner, fatter, more punk rock or just a poser now; he thought I was like a totally different person entirely. He hadn't changed a bit, he was still smoking pot everyday and taking a college course for creative writing with no job.

I'm not trying to bash him or myself, but I thought about it, and I was totally cool with it. I'm happy about my "new" self to some people, and I'm happy I've changed.

Change in a person is not a bad thing, it is necessary. Would you want to hang out with a person if they just told the same story every single time? Laughed the exact same way every day? Only impressed you in one dimension? I sure wouldn't. I'd be bored to tears. They way people constantly shift and change is part of life-an even better term is evolution.

If people didn't evolve and change we never would have made it as a species. If the first people had stayed in caves in small groups and never started agriculture or cities we would just be another animal on the planet, undoubtedly controlled by another species of carnivore or the changing of the seasons. Some people would say we need to go back to those times and we were better off, but unfortunately those folks are inbred retards. As "evolved" as we are we wouldn't last anymore, as a race we've grown soft and our bodies have adapted to a higher standard of living. We simply would die out without grocery stores. And besides, those times were tens of thousands of years ago: grow the fuck up.

It's not bad if you're changing for the better. If you're happier and feel better about yourself, change every day of the week. Spike your hair up one day and wear a leather jacket with your purple tights the next; who gives a fuck? It is your life to live and make the best of.

Don't be afraid of what's around that corner.

We're the ramblin' boys of pleasure...

Redneckin' it.

Following my recent trend of things I'd like to be, I want to be a hick.

I wish I was born with a brain with no interest in scholarly shit. I wish I was 80% muscle, 20% beer. I'd live out in the boonies with my pals, drink beer all the time, and just rip around in my jacked up '83 Ford. Me and my friends would work at our dads auto-wrecking/towing business in a place that needs it. I'd have cardinal knowledge of all kinds of cars, and my biggest concerns would be my truck, my buddies, and having beer for the weekend. I'd fuck all those hot redneck sluts every weekend, everyone would be jealous of my massive arms and even bigger truck. I wouldn't care about the world, school, earning money, the enviorment, politics, or history.

It would be a simple life, and personally I would hate it if I moved to that scenario. But if I was born into it and knew nothing else...Well that would be damn sweet.

Unfortunately, I care dearly about all of those things I wouldn't even know about. And I'm poor. With no job, or clear future in line. Bummer.

Oh, I'd totally dig country and Miley Cyrus too. Yuckk.

A small surge of unimportant but highly crucial improvements.

I've noticed a small improvement in life lately.

People have been taking much more notice of me, girls and guys alike have all of a sudden found me much more approachable and I've had the luck of having quite a few good conversations with relative strangers or people from class.

I've had several girls actually wanting to talk to me, wanting to make small talk, although none have actually wanted to make the jump to Facebook adding or phones yet. But as the title suggests, improvements are improvements.

I've become much more comfortable with my surroundings and myself because of the change in the last week. I feel better about myself, and with my diet at an all time high in nutrition and quality of food, I'm feeling good physically and mentally. Physically I've never looked better.

I just need to make connections now. Friendships, lasting impressions, a bonding.

Will this be a turnaround or just a crack in the wall? Who knows. Optimistic outlook right now, I'm going to try my best to work towards getting out and being more social.

My dad.

My dad came down Island today to hang out. We played squash and then had a few beers and just talked.

When I was younger and when my parents seperated, my dad was always my hero. I guess my mom felt the need to play the bad guy, so it was always my dad coming to the rescue on eating my gross veggies at the table or helping me with my homework. Whenever my mom yelled at me, my dad would always go calm me down or just explain why they were mad at me. This isn't to say my mom was a villian, all kids get yelled at and have to eat their greens; my dad was just the one who made it a little bit easier.

Now that I'm twenty and living on my own, he's still my hero sneaking stuff under the table for me. Whenever I'm around he gives me money and offers me whatever I might need. He basically pays my rent and anytime I have school fees he's always writing a cheque. I don't even ask, he just comes around and does it for me. If I ever need a place to stay, he'll always offer his house. When I am home he always offers to pay me for heavy lifting and help on his house renovations.

I really do Love my dad, but at times I hate when he comes down. I hate that he has to leave and we can't just hang out and talk, or even just watch a hockey game together. It feels like whenever he comes and leaves my heart gets caught in my throat. I wish he lived next door and at night I could just come in with a six pack and catch up with him.

I feel like I owe my dad so much, but I don't ever have anything to offer him. I don't feel like I made him proud in sports, even though he said he never cared about that. I really hope that I do become a sucess one day, just so I can stand up and tell him that I owe it all to him. I really hope I have the money to take him to a hockey game, out on a cruise or even give him money for a vacation.

Thanks Pops. I hope one day I can show you through my own career how important you are to me.

Do you know who the Fuck I am?

If there's one thing wish I could just start hitting people for it would be over the amount I'm ignored.

I hate more than anything in the world when you're talking on Facebook or texting someone and they just stop or flat out ignore you. I understand that you may not want to talk to me right at that second, but that's the beauty of these things. You can leave, come back, and then say something when you do have time. There's no reason just to stop or whatever, you can comeback.

If you don't want to talk to me period, that's fine too. At least have the common courtesy to say you're busy or have to go, I'm not an idiot and understand that means you don't want to. If you did you'd talk to me again on your own time or make an effort.

But the simple fact is nobody does that. Everyone just stops, I've been catching up with old friends on Facebook lately and what would be mid-conversation they just stop. Asking about each others school, lives, personal stuff and then they walk away.

It gets under my skin so easily, and most people don't even know it. Alot of my exes do it frequently, I know for a fact Evelyn does it when we occasionally talk sometimes to try and get my goat. The little things that get you going.

What a lousy weekend.

Top 5 list of things I hate at the moment.

1.) Beautiful people that don't have to work for it at all. No gym, no eating right, sometimes even no makeup. This is mostly directed at the ladies.

2.) Couples. Happy couples. It makes me scowl everytime I see one.

3.) Online forums. Breeding ground for hyper-morons, I can never play nice and usually end up getting banned.

4.) My stomach. Seriously dude, I don't know what else I can do to make you fuck off.

5.) Having to shave all the time. When I was younger, I thought shaving was the coolest thing ever. Now that's its all over my face, crotch, and slowly spreading everywhere else it's just a nightmare.

However, I'm in a really good mood tonight. Maybe sometime I'll list what I like for a change.

...Nahhh.

Sweat baby, sweat baby sex is a Texas drought. Me and you do the kind of stuff only Prince would sing about.

If I were a booooy!

There are a lot of days where I actually think what it would be like to be a girl.

Before I start in on this, I'm going to say that I am in no way thinking of changing my sex or trying to be more feminine. I don't sit around and daydream about it, nor do I really want to be one. There is just times (Like now) when I wonder what it would be like and envy some of the aspects.

Let's face it, being fat as a male or female puts you in an awkward position. Some people are able to pull off the funny fat guy thing, or BBW as girls are sometimes known on the 'net. But for the most part on either side of the sex fat people face harsh judgements and heavy prejudice. I'm lucky not to be fat because I honestly don't think I'd have the drive to get myself out. I'd have to have one hell of an influence.

I want to know what it's like to be a girl though.

I feel like every last bit of my looks or body shape I've had to earn. I've never been outstandingly handsome or well defined in any part of my body. It's fair to say that in the looks department I'm outstandingly average.

However, I get the feeling that being outstandingly average with a girl would be fantastic. All you need is a pair of tits and a bit of a silver tongue (Both things can be purchased or learned) and you're set. You can work your way through anything, get into the right places, get with the right guys with money, be on a billboard, the Internet, porn, and do quite well for yourself doing so.

Guys can have the tongue and go places, but at some point in any mans life he will most likely get into a physical confrontation or be looked down on for not being in shape. This poses a real problem and even the smoothest talker can be pushed around by a big set of arms. And trust me, unless you have real good genetics big arms are not easy to come by; it's damn hard to get the definition and size you see in the media. Those guys have worked damn hard for it, I guarantee it.

It seems like women are always pined after, men are expected to make the play on them and "seduce." You hardly ever hear of a women having to go after a guy; I've met tons of girls that think I'm good looking and only found out weeks/months/years later because we got to be friends and they told me. They never had any inclination to talk to me, fully expecting me to make a move if I was interested even though they were.

It does feel like there is more pressure on men to perform and be a provider- a strongman, a man of talent. I know women in professions have to work harder because of the prejudice handed down by men at the top, but women can use their sexuality as a tool to work their status up. How often can a man do that? Have you ever heard of a women that kept advancing on a man get reported for sexual harassment?

Sometimes I wish I had a pair of tits and a short dress and could walk down to a club and dance for everybodys attention. I wish I could be that centre, that even though I may not be the prettiest as long as I knew how to work my hips and toss my hair all the boys would be after me. I wish that if I posted a picture of myself on the 'net it would get a million hits because I knew how to work a camera angle. I don't think these things are degrading; I would find them empowering that I have a power over someone else and I could get them to do what I please.

I guess the big reason I'm writing this is because I sprained my elbow at the gym and am sitting at home icing the shit out of it, wondering how long before I can go back and try and raise my male status by putting on muscle. More muscle means more respect at a first glance.

I really need a pick-me-up.

What a letdown.

An ex-girlfriend came by last night and stayed the night.

We had a bunch of sex, once last night and twice today.

By the end of it, I didn't feel anything. I didn't feel like I wanted more, feel like I wanted her, feel like I needed to do anything. It was just sex, and I realized what I was talking about the other day was not sex. I didn't feel better of fulfilled, by the third time I realized I could just keep fucking and fucking and I wouldn't feel any better. I didn't want her to stay afterwords to hang out or just shoot the shit, cuddle, do anything.

I went out to the fights tonight alone and didn't really mind. I had to keep my opinions to myself, and couldn't bullshit with anybody when GSP won the fight. (Atta boy Georgie!) I came home and sat in my room alone, like I do everyday. I did my homework all day alone and was perfectly content.

I'm becoming a shut in?

Besides school six times a week on four different days, the gym three times a week and groceries, I really don't go out unless my roommate has friends to go out with. I always have fun, but I'm always the youngest so I never really fit in 100%.

I'm happy with it though. I mean, I don't work because of school mostly and scheduling issues, but I'm okay with that too even though I realize I have to get a job come summer. I know none of my friends really miss me all that much and get by without me just fine, I know to most I'm just a guy to get shitfaced drunk with and have a good time with. I'm not really okay with either but that's how things are. Most people are leaving or too reluctant to go anywhere at all from my home town, so either way I don't really see anyone.

I'm not sure if I'm happy or not to be honest. I think I am, I feel happy for most of the day but at others I feel so shitty about myself. For not doing my history papers and procrastinating and not getting as good of a grade as I could. For my self image. For how I treat strangers sometimes. For my own thoughts even.

I'm certainly not way depressed anymore, but I have to wonder if that feeling ever really goes away. If I'll ever be as happy and go-lucky as I once was.

This summer is going to answer a lot of questions about myself and what I do is going to be big. I really want to land a job I enjoy.

I also really want a big group of friends right now. Have a BBQ and some beer. And just hang out, now that I'm old enough to do those sorts of things I realize I don't do it nearly often enough.

So many questions, so many thoughts, so much time, so few answers.

Sex, fucking, juker,stuffing the turkey.

My sex drive...Man.

Lately it's all I can think of. I haven't done or put anything different into my body lately, but yet all I ever think about is sex. All day.

In class I think about how I want to fuck the teacher on her stomach. In between classes on campus I pick out how I would do each and every hottie that walks by. At home I look at porn every night before I fall asleep. If someone walked into my house to borrow a cup of sugar I'd probably whip down my pants first.

I have nooo idea why. I can't remember a time when I was this bad all of a sudden. I'm popping them in class, at home watching Entourage, on the bus when we drive by somebody in a skirt. It's getting to be embarrassing, even though I haven't been busted for it yet.

Unfortunately, despite dropping down to 180lbs on a good day and looking tuffer and more badass then I have in my life, I have zero confidence. None. I'm nervous talking to girls in my history class for fucks sakes. Or I turn them away, pretending like I'm not interested or too cool or some shit; who knows what goes on upstairs.

I haven't actually picked up a girl in ages, I haven't ever really charmed anybody before into thinking I'm super. And now that I'm so horny and basically seeing all women as walking blow up dolls, I doubt any sort of wit will come out. I'm more likely to get laid when I get thrown in jail for staring at some twelve year olds tits at this rate.

I really need a boost. If I knew that if I went out somebody would approach me and come on to me, all of this could go away. I haven't been told I'm good looking in so long, I feel so left out and ugly lately. I've posed every day in the mirror for myself, flexing at every angle, but I still see imperfections and folds of fat on myself and that's all.

I eat soooo healthy. Today for example;
Two eggs and toast, ham and chicken, protein shake for breakfast.
An apple and a banana for snack.
Sandwich and another apple for lunch.
Mr. Noodles and a hot-stuff for snack.
Pasta for dinner, dark chocolate aero for dessert.
Protein shake before I hit the hay.

I know the latter part of the day isn't super healthy, and I know it seems like alot. By constantly eating and putting nutrition in my body, it keeps my metabolism up and running and helping keep my weight down. As well, it helps build muscle. Also why I'm tanking down so much protein.

I mean, I do look great. I am proud of myself, but at this point I really need someone to tell me that. I feel fantastic and cocky right up until I open my dumb mouth and either blow somebody off or fumble with my words. Mr. Too cool or Mr. Drop the Ball.

On reflection, maybe it's all the protein that's doing this. Weird. I kind of like being so horny though, I get to look at way more girls than normal.

Fuck it, I may just put webcam shots up and then update my Facebook status to "I WANT A BLOWJOB."

Work and play can never be mixed the way you do.

Weekends

I hate weekends in blogland. Nobody I follow ever writes anything and I'm without amusement all weekend.

Especially this one. All I did was procrastinate, watch movies, work out, and then spend seven hours straight studying and taking insane amounts of notes for two different history classes. I have papers due in two weeks that I haven't even started that are worth 40% of my grade. Yecch.

I really, really need to meet a lady. Wowee.

Marujuana

I am so sick of pot.

All my friends do it usually on a weekly basis, some daily. I'm tired of all the excuses and misconceptions around about it.

People say it's not a gateway drug, people say it's not addictive, and they say it's not even a drug.

I've lost a best friend to pot. He had a kid, and soon after starting smoking pot. I really don't consider that father material, and when was separated from his girlfriend and suddenly had to pay child support, he couldn't afford it. Yet he still always had pot and was getting high every day. I cut him lose after close to nine years of friendship, that's totally despicable. I couldn't even stand to be around him after that, I actually found myself nauseated that he would choose pot over his own little girl.

I've seen a guy go from 245 pounds of solid fat to 140lbs. He smokes every day and he won't go out anywhere unless he's high. When he's high he loses his appetite so he basically stopped eating, he found he has energy when he's stoned so he could go out and do things. But when he's not he's always tired and doesn't do a thing.

Everyone I know has done it or does it regularly. I am the only person I know who doesn't smoke or has even tried it.

People prescribe it to help you sleep, help alter your moods. Anything that as accessible as pot that can be used for medical reasons as well is terrifying. I honestly hope it stays illegal forever.

I have no sympathy for anyone who's depressed and continues to use it to 'calm down' or 'ease nerves.' I know too many people that say that time after time but continue to get worse and worse in their social and mental health. It won't change. Altering and killing brain cells repeatedly is not an answer for anything, it will only make things worse.

I'm an outcast for my beliefs. People won't do it around me, people shy away from the subject around me and make excuse after excuse to what they were doing last night. I know though, it's not some big fucking mystery. I'm not an idiot. I'm tired of being treated like one on my beliefs on the subject.

Besides, even if I really wanted to do it, I can't afford to be pumping that shit into my system as much as people do.

I honestly think if I had the dedication to get up an hour earlier everyday and go to the gym five minutes away and worked out a little before each day I'd feel 100% better about myself.

But fuck do I ever hate cardio.

And damn am I feeling lonely tonight? Lame. I need to meet more people and get some action once in awhile.

Up the Cuts

I'm really considering trying or maybe even going on Creatine.

I did a workout today using a performance boost before and I liked the way it felt. I got a solid workout, I feel ridiculously confident and good about myself afterwords, and almost every trainer or nutritionist highly recommends it: most say it's a staple after protein powder.

More research and questions to be done.

CAN-UH-DUH!

As a nation and a people, Canadians do not have an abundance of pride.

When the 2010 Olympics were announced for Vancouver, no matter what anyone may have said or heard, the excitement level was low. Spending a ridiculous amount of money on a gigantic money scam which would put the city and increase tax rates for all Canadians was not appealing.

Throughout the games I maintained this spirit until the very last day, when Canada beat the USA 3-2 in overtime.

I'm a huge hockey fan, I played it for nearly thirteen years and it's as much of a part of my childhood and growing up as my friends and family. I watched the playoffs and remember all my old favorite players; when I was young my dream team consisted of Dominik Hasek in net and Joe Sakic up front with me. International hockey is a treat, especially when you look at the ridiculously stacked Canadian team and the raw amount of potential and talent they posses. Over half the team is made up of Assistant and full fledged Captains.

When we lost to the Americans in the qualifying rounds, the country fell off the bandwagon and cries of critique and shame for the team run rampart. Just to make it to the finals we would have to beat Germany, an extraordinary Russian team and the heavily underestimated Slovakians.

We beat all of them, blowing out Russia and Germany but barely squeaking by the Slovaks, which only raised further doubt that as a nation and a team we could beat the undefeated and favoured Americans.

We did. Sidney Crosby scored a goal in overtime that shook the country.

I'm not a patriot. I've never had that much pride in being who I am, I've certainly never really boasted about being Canadian.

I feel that through a single game, a game that Canadians invented and have led the world in domination in, we have established ourselves as a nation. I.E. Stanley Cup winners last year? Pittsburgh. Who led the entire post season in goals and points? Crosby. Who was absolutely outstanding in net? Fleury. Both Canadian, both major reasons they won the cup.

We did not have a revolution, we did not win our freedom from Britain, and we did not participate in the making of nuclear weapons.

We are a peaceful nation, we are a nation of pioneers and quiet ambition. We participate in wars as legitimate peacekeepers, we strive and make bounds towards world peace and a greener planet.

I am proud of who I am and my roots. I realize that we, like every other nation in the friggin' world, are not perfect and performed atrocities. But I also realize that we have moved forward, and though many do not agree with our politicians and political instability at times, we are a nation of progress.

I am Proud to be a Canadian, and I am proud to have help support our Canadian boys and gals with all those shiny golds around their necks. I know you may not get it or even condemn it, but let us have this one world. We pulled off an amazing Olympics and won our game in our country, our way. With style.

Pretty good, eh?

True patriot Love, in all thy sons command...

The whole encounter with Evelyn, however minor, really got me thinking.

Since she's left I've become a totally different person, I'm hardly anything that she would remember. But since then, I haven't moved on. I've had sex with an ex a few times, I've made out with some random-ass drunk girls at clubs when I was so drunk I could barely stand, but other then that I haven't met anyone. I haven't done anything.

I really even haven't given myself or had a chance to move on.

The weird thing is, I think I'm over it. If I met somebody now I could honestly say I would be able to give myself and the other 100% in a relationship. I could move on, I could stop thinking about her if I had someone else.

But I don't.

I don't have closure with her at all. I understand the reasons we separated, I understand that she may not care about me anymore, but I still don't know how she feels about the breakup. My insecurities and inner walls are higher than ever and I don't see myself actually letting anyone in. I can see people and think of things I could say, but I just sit around with a sullen look on my face and wait for them to speak.

I think my personality is suffering and dying because of this, I want to ask her so many things.

The worst part is that what she thought about our sexual relationship was completely inaccurate. What I missed immediately was her friendship and complete and smothering ability to be there whenever I needed her. This wasn't a bad thing, we were so close I felt like she knew me and I knew her better then we knew ourselves. I missed it so badly I became so depressed I couldn't do anything.

Now, I miss the sex. She was, without a doubt, the best I ever had. Now that I get nothing at all, I miss that. I've gotten used to being alone, I'm used to dealing with myself and inner thoughts. It's having someone that craves you, someone that wants you with all their heart and body and that responds to even your slightest touch. I miss that most.

I wonder how she's done. I doubt she's had half the trouble in this department.

Goddammit.

I actually talked to Evelyn for the first time in what must be close to a year.

She opened it, asking me how I was, what I'm doing, late birthday wishes, the usual longtime breakup suspects.

The old me, hell even regular me, would have injected humor. Something light and fun, something to get this beautiful girl that haunts me perpetually day and night to take interest in anything about me.

Truth be told, as soon as I opened the conversation window I felt a stomach pain, a churning deep in my gut. I could actually feel my organs responding to see this girl, to have her talk to me. I'm so scared subconsciously of what she's done and can still to me I'm afraid of even raising my voice around her. Because as sure as the oceans filled with shit, if I do we'll fight. If we talk about times past we'll fight. If I say I miss you we'll fight.

Both of us are so scarred and damaged by everything that's happened that I'm sure neither of us would be able to last a day living together. I know she wants nothing to do with me.

The worst part is that as soon as I saw her name, the first thing I thought of is making up. Forgetting all the reasons we couldn't work and starting over. Fixing myself so that she would be interested in me again, working on every single shortcoming that became so painfully obvious once we separated and I was left alone with every single one of my demons.

I don't even think I'm that terrible of a person. I just know I haven't been 100% since she left. It may not even be her, but I remember it like it was.

She won't talk to me again I'm sure. I didn't give her any reason to.

Suck my dick Leo.

Shutter Island was awful and retarded. Don't see it.

Since I'm too lazy to write a review, I'm sure you will anyways. Go ahead, I'll be saying I told you so when you get back from DiCaprio overacting his way through another movie.

I'm scared.

The biggest reason I have this blog is so that I have a way to vent and get things off my chest so I can sleep at night.

I don't think it's good reading, I don't even want people to see it sometimes but I write it all down anyways. It's like I'm waiting for some big strong girl to sweep me off my feet and take me to paradise.

I'm slipping further.

I'm totally off the charts insecure right now. I went for a long walk today, nearly four hours, just to be alone and see where I'm at with myself.

I didn't come home happy. I feel like my inability and fears of even landing a job are pushing me down. I realize that with school four days a week and that the amount I'd be able to work is severely limited it's unlikely many places could have me, but I feel like the places I applied at should have at least called and tried. I haven't had a job I've liked for years, I haven't worked enough to merit anything. I'm running down the last of my savings and I'll be 100% broke by the end of the month.

The fact that nobody wants to even talk to me hurts more. I feel like some sort of outcast, I don't feel like I belong with anyone or anywhere anymore.

I could just keep writing. I'm scared. What's going to happen to me?

I need goals. I need reliable friends. I need someone that cares about me.

I'm a spirit now, just a ghost. Of all the things I miss I miss you most.

Prince Not-So Charming

If I were Austin Powers, I'd be the Austin Powers in that movie where he loses his mojo and it breaks everywhere.

Except afterwords I wouldn't have sex with a robot or have seductive adventures and fight big fat guys.

I don't know when I lost my charm or what I did, but I'm becoming shyer. I don't like talking to girls anymore. Whenever someone talks to me I take it as a sign of interest and analyze them as they speak to see if they are.

I'm totally over thinking everything and it sucks. I hope I get all muscly soon.

Fuck this.

I'm ugly. Terrific.

"A cold streak indicates that at one time you were hot.."

I don't know man.

I've been single for a year and a half now. This is the longest period of time I've been single since I've started dating, and even then when I was single I had prospects or chicks that liked me. I've got nobody, nobody that even bats an eye at myself or even anyone I'm really interested in.

The worst part for me is that were this not happening and I was getting laid like crazy or had someone special I'd feel so fucking fantastic. This is the best I've felt about my body in a long time and I see room for improvement and progress that I've done. I feel stronger and less self concious, I like to look in the mirror from (Almost!) every angle and I've finally noticing real progression and dominance in the gym.

So back to old mugshot. Am I ugly? Jesus.

I really need a good photo of myself; sober, that I can refer to. I don't have any camera and the one on my laptop is too dark, which is a shame because I think I'd be posing up a storm for myself otherwise. I don't have anyone to send nudie shots though, which is half the fun.

The other thing that keeps running through my head as I look at girl after girl and say no in my head is Evelyn. I remember how perfect I thought she was and how everything felt. I really wonder if I'll ever have that again, and how will I react if I do get that back. Will I cherish it or will I be afraid of what's to come when she leaves? They always do.

I'm surrounded by beautiful women every day: hot girls, cute girls, sexy girls, playful girls etc etc etc. I don't talk to any of them and none ever want to chat or even sit by me.

It's making me think Evelyn was the end of an era of arrogance and boyish good looks. I'm just an average old looking dude now.

Ohh I'm not bored at all, you can call me when you want to call.

What would I say about myself?

Words I would use to describe myself.

Bi-Polar. Cautious.
Wary. Overthinker.
Emotional. Pessimist.
Scared. Bright.
Unsure. Self-conscious.
Cocky. Strong.
Funny. Loner.
Sexual. Independent.
Kind. Expressive.
Lazy. Attention Whore.
Angry. Troubled.
Bitter. Eager.
Ambitious. Anxious.
Lonely.

And here we go again.

I'm twenty.

I turned twenty years old on January twenty-second at five AM. It's weird, I don't feel older or care too much at all.

From here on out all I have to look forward to is physical and mental disabilities and getting shitfaced drunk at the turn of every new year. Overall it was an ok birthday, although I have more unknown drunken injuries again. My Playstation got fucked somehow, someone poured water on it and the books surrounding it or something. I'm not really sure how it happened.

I got a sweater and some vitamins/ protein powder for my birthday this year. I'm not trying to pull a sympathy card, I'm stating facts. It's as if birthdays don't mean anything but added responsibilities and the need to act like you know what you're doing.

With hearts so heavy we could barely stand up..

Fuck this, fuck you, fuck everything.

To see her kiss anybody else is an insult.

To see his pathetic pictures, his ugly face, his fucked up and unwashed hair; it all makes me sick. I want to scream in his face, intimidate the fuck out of him and watch as he physically gives up to me and says he doesn't want to fight. Right when I have him broken down, that's when I'd do it. I'd knock every one of his fucking teeth out of his skull and laugh while I did, feeling the blood run between my knuckles.

I'd kick him while he was down, stab him in the back, throw sand in his eyes. I would do everything underhanded that I could think of just to humiliate him and feel no shame doing so. I would keep laughing as I watched him try and crawl for help, his tears and cries for help the sweetest and most addicting drug I've ever tasted. I'd come close to killing him I'm sure.

I want that power over another man. I want to know I've beaten him on every level and then walk away into the night knowing it, feeling it, living it. Because only that kind of power will ever satisfy me now knowing she's fucking him. And that I'm alone.

Every fucking couple on this planet should just keel over and die, their happiness thrown to the winds like ashes from the people of Pompeii. Dead and forever immortalized as living mummies, frozen in terror and death. Let their sorrow wash over me in waves of spite and hatred, I don't care. It's better then watching them live together. I can't stand it anymore, it's too much and I've been alone for too long.

I hope she reads this and covers his eyes, or even better shows him so he could laugh. He would reassure he could stop me, beat me up, take me out.

You can't. We've never met but I hate everything about you. For both of our sakes, I hope we never meet.

My bitterness keeps me warm at night.

This is how I should feel.

What I did an hour ago felt better and so much more part of how life should be lived then almost anything I've done in the last year.

I had an incredible workout, I feel great even now. All my muscles are tensed and worked, ready to spring. Everything in me feels like it's been revamped and reworked, I feel ready to do anything.

My head is on right. I'm confident, I feel like for the first time in awhile my mind matches how I want my body to look and how I want to be seen. Everything seems like a choice or a privelage, nothing will or could be taken for granted.

I could be the best student in all of my classes or I could fly to another city and start all over. I could go out and start the most meaningful relationship of my life or I could just fuck the shit out of the next whore I see. I could go to the gym again tommorow and repeat everything to the point of my body overloading and puking in the showers or I could never go again but still look as good as I feel right now.

Everything is a choice, it's all coming together right this second. I know I won't feel this again for awhile, so this is why I put it down. I want to remember this, I want to be able to remind myself I have a choice.

I think I might end up paying the fees for said gym and the personal trainer and get totally shredded. Or I might not.

My face is nuthin' but crooked lines...

Another Boring Story

These ashtrays are volcanoes now, apartments burn in red and brown. Salt the Earth and never grow, notice ashes look like snow.

Fallen and just sitting there, more trash then the County Fair. The smell of crowds, a burning nose, a smell familiarity morose.

Half-assed attempt only to fail; reflection ghostly pale.

You're waving while I disappear, ashes cementing my fear.

The Lawrence Arms, Another Boring Story.
Bar none, my favorite guitar solo in any song.

Gee Whiz,

Your phone doesn't need charging for days if nobody calls or texts you. Who knew?

I guess I'll stay another night.

And I won't be far. I'll be in my room, alone, waiting for a phone call from nobody or spam mail from another company.

I don't have anybody to talk to, I don't have anyone I want to talk to. I'm only looking forward to where my body is tired and forced to sleep.

I don't have enough money to go out and do the things I might like, I don't have any friends in this town.

I haven't made a single real connection. Everyone is so different, I don't want to adapt. I like the way I am for the most part.

I'm tired of sleeping with myself. I'm tired, all these drinks and drugs no longer help. I'm tired lying about not thinking of you.

Holy fucking new wave of insecurities.

Alright, for once I'm actually looking for feedback here.

All through high school I rode on the fact that I thought I was a good looking dude. Even when I was at my heaviest pushing 205lbs I had a caring girl to back up the fact I was a good looking guy, so I never thought twice about it.

All of a sudden it's really starting to kick me in the sack that I'm really not all that fabulous.

Whenever I go out to the bars I never end up flirting with the girl I want for very long usually because she turns me down pretty quickly. In class, nobody wants to sit by me; and if they do they really don't want to talk. I have a hard time striking any sort of conversation with people. Whenever I meet someone that has any sort of potential they always turn me down whenever we meet in person or they get a good look at me.

Jesus. Am I ugly?

All of this is stirking me in waves, suddenly my confidence is taking another major dip in the ladies department. Sure, striking out once in awhile is no biggie but every time you go for anything? Not a good sign.

Oh right. And there's the fact that I've been single for more than a year and a half now.

Yes, I got turned away today because I'm an "Asshole" in person, but that's just how I am. I take shots at people and expect them to do the same to me, it's how I am. I am a sincere guy, and I have lots of wonderful special amazing talents and charm.

I'm only really trying to convince myself at this point. I really don't know where I'm going with this.

I need friends who have connections in this damn city. I need to stop feeling so worthless and nothing more than another person you walk by everyday.

Tips on surviving two decades.

I don't know how I managed to earn this.

I'm officially out of my teens in a dozen days and can no longer put my instabilities on teen angst. It's an odd thought.

The first ten years of life were just living and learning how to become a human being. I was a spoiled only child from a Loving family in a good home going to a private Christian school. I did what was necessary for me to make it through school, cheating and doing the least amount of work possible. I made few lasting friends at the school and have few truly fond memories of it, I was kind of a geek and am not at all religious anymore.

I graduated with average grades, showing no promise in any departments. I didn't do a shred of homework the whole time and this nasty habit would carry over to High School.

I entered High School with a poor work habit and riding out my parents separation as well as my first time masturbating. That was an interesting summer.

I didn't try too hard in High School, passing classes on wit and my natural smarts. I didn't exploit the school at all, I was there as little as possible. I would go to first block and then skip second block, not show up some days until noon when I felt like it, and all just to be rebellious and prove some fucking retarded point. I wasn't even recognized for this "achievement."

It was here I met all of the women who would make a lasting impact in my life. None of the relationships I started survived for more than a year, and I exited a broken and extremely depressed man.

I tried committing suicide that summer, failed, and wound up in a year long slump. Little happened in this time asides endless hours of TV and sitting around the house. I met some people, lost touch with more. Some I regret, most not.

And here I am now. Living on my own, going to college at the gentle age of twenty. If I had any advice for my parents in the past it would be to force me to go back to school after I graduated and not let me fuck the dog for as long as I have. It's done nothing but hurt me.

I have to try and change all my habits. I have to try and meet new people and make a lasting impression. I have to graduate with high grades and have a clear image of what I want to do with my life when I'm done.

My luck has kept me alive, smart, in decent shape, and most of all Loved. I don't deserve any of these things.

It's time to man the fuck up and make something of myself. Make a name. It's time.