BLOOOOOOOG!

Haha, that's what it sounds like when someone throws up.

Okay, well, I feel like there was this weird symbiote that sapped all of my energy and creativity and I just haven't been able to do much of anything. It turns out that that was kind of true because I had diabetes but I didn't know for a while and if you don't know you have a disease, there's a good chance you're not treating it. Anything left untreated will eat away at you and can kill you. Luckily, I met with a doctor and got things sorted out as well as changing my diet and lifestyle somewhat. In addition to all this, I've moved from where I lived to a town about twenty miles away.

So, is all that an excuse for why I haven't been writing? No, it's just what's been going on. I think writing, painting or whatever creative process needs to be fed as if it is alive. I stopped feeding that thing inside of me for a long time and it was damn near dead. The thing about those creative processes is they never really will die, they just shrink until they sit curled up in the corner, waiting to be called on again. As soon as you start feeding it again, it will start growing just as strong as before.

Let's put the cliches aside now and focus on the real issues.Since I last posted, lots has happened in the world but I never really feel qualified to put my feelings up because I am the type to go with my gut and then my gut is not always right. I will say I feel like there have been a lot of deaths recently that have been dealt with in strange ways. Trayvon Martin got shot and killed and instead of going "Wow, a kid died," some people focus on his personal life as if they can prove that he deserved to die. Likewise, Cory Monteith from "Glee" died and I've seen people actually post on messageboards that they are glad he's dead. Now, I do guess that some of them are just trying to shock/annoy/troll but it's a pretty horrible sentiment to express.

So there's my downer portion of the blog. Let's focus on some good things...John Stewart left the Daily Show to go direct a movie and, while the movie he's making sounds interesting, what I'm really loving is having Jon Oliver take his place. He is absolutely amazing. Pacific Rim came out and it appears to be the movie that 10 year old me would have given half my Legos to see. I started baking delicious diabetic friendly snacks which may deserve their own post but it would basically just be reposts of other peoples recipes with the commentary "I like it." Still, it's fun.

I guess I don't really have anything else to say. Or, I should say I have so much to say that it's hard to focus on one thing. So, if you read through all that other stuff and you liked what you saw, expect more, soon. If you read through all that other stuff and you didn't like it, why would you still be reading right now? You're weird. I like weird people, though, so you ought to stick around and see what happens. I'll try to write something for you, too, you reading-what-you-don't-like weirdo.

Me Post Good One Day

I used to have access to a computer in the living room and I'd often post/read blogs while watching a show. That is no longer a luxury I have, unfortunately. For the moment, I post on my own laptop with it's broken screen. It's rigged so that it displays on a cheap little 20 inch flatscreen that I purchased mostly to play old Playstation games on. Why is any of this important? I guess it leads into what I've been thinking about a lot lately. Lots of stuff has been running through my head about the idea of ownership.

I keep trying to write something meaningful and insightful about how my parents split up and stuff moved back and forth from place to place. I really can't, though. Then I tried to write something intelligent about raising someone's kid but that all kinda sounded hollow. It's incredibly hard to adjust to a different culture and mindset but that is what I'm slowly having to do and while I'm doing this, the people around me are going through their own changes.

When I first came to Arkansas, I lived with my girlfriend's family and they were completely different from the people I grew up with. I got used to them and we moved out of their house but I felt like I was very close to them. It's been about two years and every time I visit them, it's like everything has changed. The kids aren't running around in capes and hitting each other with plastic swords, they are navigating high school's treacherous waters, they are dating, they are driving!

Closer to home, I've been dating my current girlfriend for almost five years and we've lived with her daughter for almost two years and I think I am still learning new things every week. As a pseudo-parent, I have to watch how I respond and react to the kid but at the same time, I have to treat her as an adult. As a couple, we have to allow ourselves to express exactly what we're thinking without letting emotions override the communication. I've never been one to outright yell and argue but I find that the closer you are with someone, the easier it could be to be that kind of person. Based on that idea, my parents were very close to each other. So, I wrote earlier that my parents split up and I'm certainly not comparing my current relationship to the dysfunctional, stay-together-for-the-kids one they had but I keep coming closer and closer to understanding these people that have seemed so incomprehensible to me before.

I am a child of divorce but I never really asked much more from my parents beyond "Where does my stuff go now?" I always assumed they weren't married because they hated each other. Relationships are so much more complicated then that, though. I can see loving someone and not being together. I can even understand why some people will forgive a cheater, though I hope I'm never in that position. More importantly, I can see more and more of my parents beyond who they are in relation to me. It's honestly a bit unnerving to think about but I guess understanding my parents will help to understand myself in some ways.

I never really addressed the idea of ownership but I will simply say everything is impermanent. I hate to sound like a hippy but when you really come down to it, no one really owns anything. The harder you hold on to stuff, the more it stings when you lose it and it will be lost eventually. What does this mean? I don't want to believe this because I love my things, my toys and my car and my computer. It's the truth, though.

The Art of Words

I wish I had a better way to express myself because words seem to fail me most of the time. Yesterday, I poured everything I was feeling out. Afterwards, I felt better because it was out of me. It still exists, though and when people read an overwhelmingly negative screed about life in general and they are a large part of life in general, it's understandable if they feel like they have somehow failed or done me wrong. The truth is I try to write most of the time without editing myself and just let it flow. So, sometimes I say something and contradict myself right in the next paragraph. For more personal entries, I try not to read over the piece and just post it so I can see it and keep seeing it to remind myself what I was thinking. I'm not going to write like that for a review of a video game or something but it just feels disingenuous to say "I'm going to tell you what I really think" and then go back over it and change it to make it less offensive.

I know it's confusing. It's practically counter intuitive to post things that make me feel better and more focused but that leaves other people confused or hurt. Still, it might happen again and this post will have to serve as a warning until it gets buried and I have to repost the same sentiment in different words. I can't restate this enough: I want to be a better person. To get to a state where I can say "This is who I want to be", there is going to be some purging of all of this junk inside of me and I chose this place to do that. Yes, it happens to be in the same place where I write about stupid movies I watched or dumb stuff in general. It's all here, though because I want to slowly understand what I'm thinking, who I am and why I do what I do. So, if it hurts or offends, let's talk about it. If something I write leads to someone else asking a question that leads to them understanding me or even themselves better, that's better than anything else I can hope for.

Attempting to Just Do It.

Will I ever get to a regular posting schedule? Nope.

I wanted to get to a point where I could regularly post what is/was on my mind. That hasn't really been the case. I guess if I could say what I really wanted, I would mostly just vent a lot of negative feelings. My surroundings are unnecessarily competitive and I feel myself tensing up with anger and irritation on a daily basis. I try to separate and I can't do that without causing more tension. Yet I am forced to endure the needling and ribbing while there is no recourse. I have to bite my tongue because when I say what I think everyone freaks out and acts like I've committed some sort of treason just by speaking my mind. So, I die a little every day, a death of a thousand cuts.

Then there's the part of me that knows that is just over-dramatizing the situation. How many posts have I made like this now? I want to be a more positive person, I want to go back to that guy that babbled about "Just doing it" and looked forward to things. Every day, I feel like I'm moving further away from that guy. I can sometimes catch myself and rein it in but it feels less and less like I'm really being me and more and more like I'm trying to fit some sort of mold. I am not who people want me to be but by being what they want, I can't be who I want.

I'm trying to find a balance, something that can snap me out of the somnambulist waltz but there's not really anything. I'm falling further into fantasy worlds with video games and solo rpgs lending some sort of escapism but there's not really anything to escape from. Life isn't terrible but it has reached the sort of bland consistency that means I can't really argue or say that it's bad but it is not what I want.

Of course, there are things left unspoken. Although I'm not technically unemployed, I am scheduled for all of three hours this week. Having no job means not only having a lot of free time but also not having a lot of money. So, without money, I'm forced to pretty much lean on everyone else. Out of a sense of duty or obligation or debt, I'm stuck with this feeling of owing everyone for the smallest favors. On top of all this eggshell-walking, I'm constantly angry at myself for falling into this lifestyle. I'm lazy and bored with life and that means I'm the type of person I hate: the person who says they don't have enough to do and they are so bored while simultaneously wasting hours on end doing pointless stuff.

I guess that writing is the only thing that I feel is actually worth my time.

So I guess I'll try to do more of it.

I Wrote This When I Couldn't Sleep

When I was a kid and we made too much noise late at night, my dad would burst into the room in his underwear and yell some variation of "shut up!". It didn't matter if we had friends over, he'd always be in his underwear, we were always supposed to shut up. I remember thinking as a kid that when I was an adult, I would never tell a kid to shut up. I would always listen to them and try to help them with whatever keeps them up at night. But it turns out it is not that simple. The same problems that you want to stay up late at night and discuss are all going to be there in the morning and you know what else? The morning isn't really that bad if you didn't stay up until some ridiculous hour worrying about stuff instead of getting a decent amount of sleep. As a side note, people who have no reason to sleep in but somehow think it is a badge of honor to just be waking up at noon are annoying. "Whoa, hey, eating lunch, huh? Well, I'll probably have a bowl of cereal since I just woke up! Haha! Yeah, guess I'm just gonna have breakfast and then take a little nap. Whoo!" I don't know why that guy was so peppy. Anyway, the point is that I think the older I get, the more my parents start to make sense. I'll probably need a few more years before I'm just running around the house yelling in my underwear, though.