Silver Lining

What is something that everyone has but is completely different from person to person? Expectations. Think about it, everyone has expectations when it comes to one thing or another. Some expectations are more grandiose than others. Some are outlandish while others are more realistic. Myself, I expect a lot of things to happen to me, for me, by me. Conservatively, I have the realistic outlook that many will never come to fruition, but that is the nature of the beast. I expect to marry the girl of my dreams, but we all know how fickle she is. I expect to work for a prestigious and reputable men's lifestyle magazine. I expect to buy my parents a house one day. Some of these will happen, some will not, but that's what's great about life in general. It's a grab bag, just sometimes you don't get what you want. Which goes back to the phrase I say way more than is needed, "What you want and what you need is rarely ever the same thing."

Just know that expectations are just that, what you expect to happen. Just because you expect things to happen doesn't mean they will.

Work hard.

Will You Return?

Christmas is way too expensive. If I didn't like buying my family presents, I would totally boycott the whole thing.

I Saw Sparks

I feel like I'm in a funk right now. I don't want to go to class (surprise there), I don't want to go to work (again, surprise) and I don't ever really feel like hanging out. It's almost like depression, but I have absolutely nothing to be depressed about. In fact, it's almost like my luck is changing. Kind of. Nervousness abounds. I just want to be given a chance. That's it. I know, I've screwed things up before, but I just feel it in my heart, it'll be different this time. Have faith in ME.

Don't say a word; just come over and lie here with me
'cause I'm just about to set fire to everything I see.
I want you so bad I'll go back on the things I believe.
There, I just said it; I'm scared you'll forget about me.
-John Mayer "Edge of Desire"

Everyone is an Artist

I have an interesting idea. By interesting, I mean it's something that sounds like it would be awesome but will most likely never get finished. I have this terrible habit of having the best intentions of starting something, then never finishing it (see: P90x, Twitter, this blog). My newest idea involves writing a book. A short novel if you will. Hell, it might not even be a short story, but you get the point. The way I figure it, I can write a few pages a day for a whole year and have enough for a pretty substantial story. I have had a few people tell me that I should write a book, so to indulge my fans, maybe I should get to it. Do you see what I did there? I completely turned my brilliant idea into douchebaggery. Seriously though, I think writing a book would be pretty awesome. I don't know what to write about, but I'm sure something will come up. Maybe I'll just write a book about my life now, about my friends, about my experiences. Imagine for a second, if I wrote a book chronicling my life and just changed the names of everyone involved. I would just go ahead and name the guys I couldn't stand "Chet". That name just exudes bitchassedness.

"May I ask why my girlfriend is in your profile picture?"

"Well, no Chet, you can't."

On a side note, The Avett brothers have been blasting in my iPod all weekend long. It makes me forget about how terrible work has been.

Equal Opportunity

Have you ever had an idea, a shear "stroke of genius" that at the time of conception just felt like the greatest idea ever? Then, after its been given some thought, you come to the realization that it's possibly the stupidest idea ever. I like to call these happenings "phantom eureka moments." I'm currently doing a cost benefit analysis of getting a tattoo. I want something artsy and pretentious, like script from some obscure piece of literature, only because I want to be "that guy", the guy who uses air quotes and talks about indie art house films and subterranean bands. I say subterranean because even the underground artists haven't heard of the bands he's talking about. The more and more I think about it, I just don't think I have something that means enough to me to have it permanently on my body. I can already tell that there will definitely be some buyer's remorse, and unfortunately there is no return policy.

On an aside, I think I've decided to pitch an idea for the newspaper. It'd be a great way to gather contacts and have some published work. Always have to be thinking about your future kids. I'll divulge the details when I work out all of the logistics and what not.

Also, I've been rather nostalgic lately. Be ready for some sappy, emotional bullshit soon.

Currently Playing: John Mayer- I'm Gonna Find Another You (Live in Los Angeles)

Warning Sign

So I had an in-depth conversation with my manager at work. We discussed a number of things, but the biggest thing happened to center around people, and more importantly how I interact with people. When it comes to friends, I'm very particular. Now, you can call me an asshole, a prick, what have you, but when it comes to my friends, I don't put up with a lot. I know how I want them to act, and if they don't meet that standard then I don't want anything to do with them. It's no different than if someone were trying to find a girlfriend/boyfriend. There is a certain criteria that is used to weigh all suitors, and if you don't meet all the criteria then you're out. I have learned that you can never settle, whether it comes to a significant other or friends.

I've always found friends to be more important than having a girlfriend, and I still believe that to this day. Not saying that having a girlfriend is overrated, but friends can offer an insight that your "ol lady" can't, or should I say, is not willing to give. There is nothing wrong with that, I just feel like a good relationship with your friends is a little more honest. That being said, I have a lot of issues, especially when it comes to trust. There are aspects of my life that I tend to share with most everyone, even some pretty sensitive material. I find it rare that I share exactly what I'm thinking with people though. In the past year, I've met a handful of people that I feel 100% comfortable with, and if you have to wonder who that is, chances are you are not one of those people.

I've had my fair share of friends that, while they are interesting enough, just don't stimulate me in the way I'd like to be stimulated (That's what she said!) . I have pet peeves, and I'll admit I'm not very forgiving when it comes to those pet peeves. This may be shallow, but at least I know what I like and what I don't like. Intelligence is something that I value to no end, but so is tact. I don't care if you know all of the capitals on this planet, don't be a d-bag about how smart you are. I have intelligent friends that show it in subtle ways, and that's why I like being around them.

I have one friend who may be the most unassuming person on this planet. He is both smart and funny, but very humble and accommodating. He has respect for pretty much everything, and I can only hope to learn to be more like him. No homo.

I guess the reason why I decided to write this is because there are certain aspects of my life that I need to work on. I need to be a little more accepting and a little less cold. The only thing I can say is that I will not settle just to have a ton of friends. I like to talk, and I like to talk to people that are interesting and fun to be around.

That's not too much to ask, is it?

Guys and Dolls

I've always heard that a guy can't be best friends without a girl. That there are ulterior motives, that he is just trying to get in her pants, trying to get with her, what have you. While this may not hold true for every guy, I honestly believe that for a majority of guys, the reason you become close with a girl is to 1) try to date her, or 2) try to fuck her. Now, there is some middle ground here and you can end up becoming close with someone without satisfying either of those criteria.

I can only speak from experience, but every time I've ever been close to a girl, it was because we either dated, I had feelings for her, or there was something more carnal going on there. I naturally get along better with girls for some strange reason, but I'm not overly feminine or desperate. Maybe it's just me, maybe I just have a problem. Every time I become interested in a girl I'm immediately relegated to the friend zone, save for one time. We won't go into that. Now, I've talked to my share of girls, but the ones I truly find interesting and worth my time either 1) don't have the time for me or 2) already have someone waiting out in the wings. This is when i curse my bad luck and just suck it up.

One day I'm going to figure this whole dating thing out, and hopefully I can have close female friends that I don't want to date or fuck. Not that there is anything wrong with that, because I hang out with some pretty good looking ladies. The one time that it actually worked out for me, it ended up being a beautiful disaster. But like I said earlier, we won't go into that.

That's a story for another day.

Lauren

You are the reason why I’m here. You are the reason why I ended up here. You are the reason why I’m afraid to let anyone close to me. And yet, you are the reason why I have as many happy memories as I do. You were the center of my world for almost three whole years. My whole world came crashing down on me with one simple sentence. For two years I had a hard time adjusting. You kept me around for a little while, and for that I blame you. But only that. I can’t blame you for anything else because it was just as much my fault as it was yours. We both did things we aren’t proud of, and we both said things that we didn’t mean. The only thing I can truly be mad at you for was being my friend when I didn’t need you in my life at all. That simple fact kept me around for longer than I cared for. False hope is possibly the worst thing anyone could ever have. It’s more dangerous than cigarettes or drugs, more potent than even the strongest alcohol. I was intoxicated because I loved you so much I actually believed that it could work. Little did I know, all it did was make me ill and jaded. I’m tired of the way you make me feel, I’m tired of the way you still control me. But most of all, I’m tired of the fact that I still love you. I will always love you.

You stay out of my life for two years, and it finally helped me get over the fact that you weren’t in my life anymore. I was happy, truly happy again for the first time in a while. You did your thing and I did mine. I almost forgot about you, but then a song would come on and it would remind me of you. Lot’s of things reminded me of you, you just have no idea. I would love to forget about you, but that is impossible. You are not in itself unforgettable; you just left such a huge mark on me at such an impressionable time.

You magically show up in class, and it about broke my heart. Seeing you has that effect on me. It brought back so many memories, and it made me grateful to have someone like you in my life. Things looked up because we were so friendly. I was realistic in knowing that it wasn’t going to be anything more than that. I had grown up, you had grown up. We laughed, something we hadn’t done in years. It felt good. We were crass and condescending. We were happy in each other’s company again. I wanted to thank you for making me a stronger person.

I began to have some doubt. I didn’t want to get involved with you again. I was too hurt. I didn’t want to do that to myself again. Not anymore. We talked sparingly, and it helped immensely. I told my friends that we were just friends, trying to reconnect. They told me to be careful, but I already knew. You have a way with me that is both dangerous and amazing. You’re like a drug that I can’t kick. Maybe not that bad, but you get the point. The sad thing is, you will never read this. You will never know any of these things that are written down. It’s better that way. I can’t hang out with you, because it will bring me too much emotion. Knowing this, you told me to come see you, come see your family. You know how much I love your family. You know how much I love you. I know it’s a bad idea, but there is only one thing I can say, and I think I will regret it.

What are you doing Thursday?

Awake.

Awake.

Eyes snap open. The lazy droll of the fan overhead captures your attention. Shafts of light filter through the blinds onto your bed. You rise, only to sit back down and wipe your eyes. You reach for your lukewarm beer and take a tentative swallow. The bitterness takes you by surprise. The bitterness of your life takes you by surprise. You try again to get out of bed and your shaky knees finally catch. You hobble to the couch and turn the TV off. The static irritates your eyes. You shower to wake yourself up for the day. Regardless of the activity, everyday is the same. No matter what you wear, it’s always the same. Same jeans, same shirt. You pride yourself on style, but all you do is mimic. You brush your teeth, gargle your mouthwash. You put your contacts in so you can ignore the world around you. You look in the mirror, but you see nothing of importance. You walk downstairs to your family, but no one is around. You look around and wonder where everyone is. Mom? Dad? No answer.

You scrounge up what could pass as breakfast, don’t worry about it being mid-afternoon. No work, just the day to yourself. You think of things to do. Girl One- boyfriend. No chance. Girl Two- nice enough, just not for you. You always want what you can’t have. It’s an old habit. Guy One- work. Fuck it. You’re on your own today, kid. You hop in your very generic American made vehicle and drive to your even more generic American town. What passes as fun is constituted to a strip of road containing restaurants and strip malls. Your joy can hardly be contained. This place is almost as vacuous and empty as you. Your CD player kicks in and plays a familiar song. You think about her. You can’t help but think about her. For a while, it was all you ever did. You loved her. You still love her. You are nothing but a memory to her.

When did your life go wrong? You seemed to have it made. Good looking. Smart. Football player. Maybe not the best, but good enough to be noticed. Star baseball player. Good family. Popular sister. Pretty girlfriend. Bright future. One thing led to another. I was pregnant. You panic. I lost the baby. Relief. Kind of. Three months later, you need time. You figure out you’re an idiot. You need her. Together again. Two months later. I can’t be in a relationship where you put your hands on me. You are devastated. You have no one to tell. You brush it off, turning the pain inward. It hurts, but you don’t let it show. The big city welcomes you.

You leave for college. All of your scholarships are forgotten. You took too much time to make a decision, all for her. They can only hold your spot for so long. Better luck next time. Your parents pay for school. They genuinely love you. People like you. Or they give the impression. Your roommate is a dick. Your friends are cool enough. Class is boring. Eight AM class is even worse. You never go. Your grades show that. You feed your parents the bullshit. They believe you. You come home for the summer. Nothing has changed. You hang out with your friends. You don’t do anything exciting. You think about her a lot. She calls you to apologize. There might be some hope. She calls to say she’s sorry. She calls to say she is seeing someone else now. This breaks your heart. You want her to be happy. You loved her. You still love her.

Fall semester. Take two. You trust your roommate. You like your roommate. Class is boring. Now you really don’t go. You know you shouldn’t waste your parents’ money, but you don’t go just the same. You go to your friends’ apartment. You drink. A lot. All the time. You smoke. Weed. More than you should. Cocaine. Only once. Guy- Bloody nose. Whoa, a little rusty. Let’s do another line. You refuse, maybe for the first time in your life. Self-control is not a character trait you exhibit. You go to work. You skip class and sleep. You don’t do homework. You hang out and do stupid things. Illegal things. Repeat. You know you have a problem. I need to come home. I don’t like it here anymore. Are you sure? I think you need to stay. I need to come home. It’s too expensive for you to have to pay. Are you sure? Please.

Home sweet home. Stir crazy. Slower pace, not as much drinking. No drugs. Classes aren’t so bad. You are actually happy. Soccer. Girl. Too young for you. You don’t care. You become attached. She uses you. Not intentionally, but it is what it is. Are you still seeing him? Don’t lie to me. Yes. That’s all you need to hear. Weeks later. I have something important to tell you. I’m pregnant. Holy shit. So I hear she’s pregnant, is it yours? No way, you have to have sex to get pregnant. She’s 17; you’re not that stupid. You finally found a job. People are cool enough. Pay is ok. Hours are terrible. You get by. School starts back. Classes are actually interesting. Guess who’s there. She sits in front of you. You see her more now than you ever have. You talk to her, she responds. It’s been two years. Doesn’t seem that long. You love seeing her. You love her.

You make friends. Finally. Actual friends. You love them. They keep you grounded. You can talk to them and not feel judged. They help you feel in control. You start drinking again, but only because it’s fun, not because you need to. You develop feelings. You like her. She understands you. She shows an interest. She already has someone. You always want what you can’t have. It’s an old habit. Party time. Clothes come off. You restrain. You are getting the hang of this self-control thing. You sleep it off. Your feelings are too intense to let them go unnoticed. You tell her. I don’t know what to say. She skips town, goes to see her boy. You are left confused and hurt. Alone. She calls you. Talks about how great a time she had. We really needed it, I’m glad I went to see him. You know where you stand. You can only think of her. You love the idea of her.

The same song comes on, it wakes you. Eyes snap open. I can be ruthless if you let me. You lay down, eyes weary. You think. You dream. You sleep. Restlessly. You think of her, just like old times. You go to call her but catch yourself. Self-control is a good thing. You sit on the edge of your bed, wipe your eyes. You cry, not for long. Long enough for you to hurt. You loved her. You still love her. You love her. You sleep.

Awake.

Eyes snap open. Breathe. Make sure you’re still alive. Life is yours. Take it. Do with it what you want. You waste no time. You have a plan.

Awake.

Breathe.