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 |   My 2nd blog. My spot for sharing my life, music, and writing with my friends. |
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Hello, Hello. Fancy seeing you here. I'll work on making this nice and pretty later. *  I also have a poetry blog, for those who dig poetry:
AND I have a mental health group with a monthly challenge:
[Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Lay my hands on Heaven and the sun and the moon and the stars While the devil wants to fuck me in the back of his car ♡ * I will never make this pretty. |
| 30DBC: Imagine that today is your birthday. If you could give yourself a call on a past birthday of yours, what would you tell yourself? WTMR 4.: Tell us about a time you met someone after interacting with them by internet, phone or email. How did your mental picture/impressions of them compare to how they were in person? 30DBC: I think I could go back to every birthday I've had since I was like eight and I'd have things to warn myself about each time. I'd actually like to go back to my 23rd that was in December and smack myself across the face. But let's not talk about that. Let's go further back. I want to go to my sixteenth birthday and tell myself a few things.  Stop worrying so much about school. You're about to drop out so there's no need to be getting all bent outta shape about it. I was legit so stressed out about school around this time. I was constantly in trouble there, which meant I was constantly in trouble at home. It felt like a never-ending cycle of terribleness and it really had me down. It seemed like every time I tried to not get in trouble, someone's prior experience with me got me in trouble. I remember teacher's who didn't like me because of something that had happened before and they would automatically assume I was talking back or having an attitude when I wasn't trying to. Little did I know on my 16th birthday, I was about to drop out. I wish I could've known that and enjoyed my birthday a little more.  The person you think you like is going nowhere in life, so just give it up. I've always been the type to fall in love with everyone I meet. I mean, not fall in love with in love with, but sort of anyway. I think I had a crush on or at least somewhat adored everyone I hung out with when I was sixteen. I can't even remember who I was into on my sixteenth birthday, but I do know that everyone I liked at that time ended up doing absolutely nothing with their lives, so it's a safe piece of advice. You're about to get kicked out of the house, so start looking for places to stay and alternatives now. This would probably be the most important thing to tell myself on my sixteenth birthday. I'd also tell myself not to get too comfortable anywhere and always always have a back-up plan. Don't take Noah's advice on everything. He's really not that cool. Noah was my best friend at the time and I looked up to him for everything, I guess because he was older than me. Now I know that just because someone is older doesn't necessarily mean that they have the answers to everything in life. I realize now that everyone is just as confused as I always have been and trying to make things work the best they can. I wish my 16-year-old self had known that. Skip the concert and avoid meeting Emmy. Just trust me on that one. This one, just because people who say they have no regrets have never met someone like Emmy.WTMR 4.: When I first met Kira, it was in a different state than either of us lived in. She was from Texas and I'd never been there. She talked a lot about her family and even more about friends she had back home. It's weird when that happens because you get an image of someone in your mind and that's who you see when you hear about the person. I saw a couple pictures here and there of people, but she was pretty popular and seemed to know about a million people. It was super intimidating when I first moved into her place because she had a bunch of roommates, who all obviously knew each other at that point, and I was just the new guy. I remember them making fun of me when I first got there because they said I looked so young. They kept asking Kira if she was sure I was legal and whatnot. Just messing around, of course, but it's still rough when you're that far away from anyone you know. She slowly introduced me to some of her friends. I didn't think much of them. Some were okay, I guess, but for the most part they weren't really the type of people I hung out with back home. There were some people she talked about but never introduced me to because she thought we wouldn't get along. That made it even more confusing when I didn't get along with some of the people she did introduce me to because I was like, "Wait, these are the ones I'm supposed to like?" You all know me though; I get along with everyone who lets me get along with them. She had a bunch of friends who quite clearly wanted to be more than her friend so they didn't like me from the start. I won some of them over, through no effort of my own, but others still hate me to this day for unknown reasons. Meeting her family took even longer because she didn't get along with a lot of them at that time. I had talked to her mother and sister on the phone a couple times before we met in person. I was surprised to see her sister in person because she looks absolutely nothing like Kira. I mean, I wouldn't even believe they were related if I saw them out on the street together. In fact, when I first met them, it was at a restaurant and when we walked in, I was still looking around even after her sister stood up and kinda waved. I thought she must've been waving at someone else because there's no way it could've been Kira's sister. Buuuuut, it was. I think it's kind of weird how stories we hear about people or personal attributes we think have make us form a certain image of them in our head. If someone is rude or just nasty acting on the phone, I automatically assume that they're unattractive. I don't know why. I guess certain things just make people seem ugly. |
Artist: The Rolling Stones Album: Exile on Main Street Song: Tumbling Dice [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Lyrics  Dinner is coffee and cigarettes. It's a windowsill conversation with the Stones playing in the background. He says something about being hungry, so you offer him the rest of your coffee and he downs it while you look out the window. Out on the street below there are two guys having a shouting match while their girlfriends scream in the background and pull at their wife beaters. They've been going at it for a while now and you can even hear them over the music. He notices the commotion too and learns forward to turn up the stereo. They're an inch from each other's faces now and other people are gathering around too in the street. One of the girls grabs her boyfriend's shirt again and you see a gun tucked into the back of his jeans. "Those guys are gonna kill each other," you decide. "So? Let 'em." "Should we get out of the window?" He leans forward and examines the situation. "Nah, man. I think we're cool." You ash into the empty coffee cup and watch as a black car pulls up with the bass bumping so loud it shakes the window. "You thinking about going back home?" You shrug. "I don't wanna go back there." Your stomach growls and you feel your hip bone pressing against the window. A few guys jump out of the black car and things really set off. It's a full blown war on the street and the girls are screaming for help. Someone call the po-lice. Someone call the po-lice. "Well, you know you're welcome to stay here as long as you want. I like having you here." It's the first time anyone's ever said that to you and you smile in response amidst the screaming voices below. You look at the mangled, fighting bodies on the ground. It had ended for a few seconds, but something must've set it off again. You were too busy being told that your existence was OK to pay any attention. "Maybe we should do something?" He laughs and shakes his head. "No, Charlie, stay out of it." You lean over and turn the music up even higher to drown them out. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** This low down bitchin' got my poor feet a itchin' You know you know the deuce is still wild Baby, I can't stay, you got to roll me And call me the tumbling dice |
| 30DBC: What are your thoughts on surprise parties? I’m in the process of planning two – yes, two. One is a baby shower and one is a 40th birthday bash. Have you ever had a surprise party thrown for you? Do you even like surprises? Have you ever had to throw a surprise party? WTMR: The weather has a bad reputation as being the most boring conversation topic in existence. Tell us about the weather in your region at the moment, but make it interesting, exciting and/or creative. 30DBC: As far as surprises go, I like to do the surprising rather than be the surprisee. Yes, that's a word, Red Squiggly Line, be quiet. Luckily for me, I've never been the victim recipient of a surprise party. It's just not my style for a couple different reasons. First of all, I randomly get emotional and if someone went through the trouble of setting up a surprise party for me, I'd probably start crying and get embarrassed. I also like to prepare my own parties because I sort of party harder than most people I know. If I'm going to have a birthday party, I want to plan it so that I know when it is and I have all the goodies I'm going to need for a night of fun. The timing is only important because I need the next couple days to get myself back in working order. I've planned a few surprise parties myself and assisted in a few others. We had a surprise birthday party for one of my grandparents once when I was younger. I can't remember if it was my grandfather or grandmother. Oh, wait, it was an anniversary party for their 50th anniversary. Then my ma and I planned one for my cousin's birthday. I was really close to him growing up and it was one of those surprises where the person had no idea and was completely shocked. I think there were a couple other ones for various family members, but the ones I've done myself have just been for friends. My friend, Dak, and I had a pretty big party for my best friend, Jordan's 25th birthday. I mean, I'm sure he sort of expected us to do something for it. It was so bad because my job in the plan was to get him to the place where we were doing the party, but he's so damn stubborn, I couldn't get him out of the house. We were laying in bed and he was having a pity party like, "You're the only one who cares about me. You're my only real friend." No one had wished him a happy birthday because they all knew they were going to see him that day and I guess it didn't cross their mind to text earlier in the day. I eventually got him to the predestined spot and it made me really happy to see his realization that we had all planned this whole thing out for him and everyone did actually care about him. Then we commenced partying and it ended up being really fun, as far as I know. He still talks about it sometimes, which makes it even better because it's a happy memory that pops up for him every once in a while. That's why I like being the surpriser. It's fun to let someone know the efforts you'll go through to throw them a nice party. I like when people know that they're cared for. WTMR: Well, if weather talk is so boring that you might fall asleep, try stepping out in the negative ten degree temperatures we've been having the last week. It was so cold the last day I went to school, the thought of potentially freezing to death actually crossed my mind. You know the weather's bad when dying seems like an actual risk of going out in it. A bunch of people missed class too because they all had the flu. At least they didn't come in, but still, I was disinfecting like a mofo when I got home. It's not just the cold either. It's the wind and the blowing snow. Winter is horrifyingly depressing for me, especially around January/February. I just want it to be over already. Why can't it just be spring or fall all year long?See, I don't really think the weather is that boring of a topic. I hate when people say stuff like, "Soo.. Pretty cold outside.." Or, "How about them Patriots?" I don't mind when people do it as a joke when they're referring to a situation that happened it the past, but when they're serious, it just irritates me. First of all, if you do think there's an awkward silence in the conversation, why exacerbate it by pointing it out in such an obvious way? Second of all, I almost never notice awkward silences to begin with so I'm always confused as hell at first like, "What about the Patriots?" Then they laugh and say that there was an awkward silence so they were just filling it. Really? A conversation can't have a thirty second lull without you pointing it out? Why don't you say something interesting if you're so uncomfortable with the situation? Sorry, I just don't get those 'awkward silence' people who declare situations to be awkward all the time. I mean, there are awkward conversations when there's tension between two people and the conversation dies, but when two random people who have no issue with each other have a break in the conversation, it shouldn't be that big of a deal. I wish people would embrace the silence a little more sometimes. I have no idea why I just went off on that rant and I apologize. I blame the migraine. |
Artist: Arctic Monkeys Album: Whatever People Say I Am, That's What I'm Not Song: A Certain Romance [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Lyrics Detention is a small cafeteria where you sit spaced out beneath the fluorescent lights. One wants to give out and flickers every few seconds in protest. This isn't The Breakfast Club; you're all dressed the same in oxford collared shirt with black ties or preppy school sweaters with a nice logo that can be purchased through the school for a low, low price of $56.00 plus shipping and handling and a $6 convenience charge. Thank you so very much for allowing students to buy a cardigan with the shitty school emblem obnoxiously threaded in. The geometry teacher is in charge of detention today which means an hour and a half of staring at the tops of the cafeteria lunch tables, trying not to fall asleep. She paces back and forth, back and forth, stopping behind each of you for a minute before carrying on. You wonder how she doesn't lose wait with all the exercise every Tuesday afternoon. You try to remember the last time you didn't have detention after school. The day doesn't end at 2:30 any more. It ends at 4 o'clock. It started out with a fight after school. That was a week. Then there was the pill thing, which was another two weeks, plus Saturday morning and some volunteer commitment. It's not quite volunteer work when you're forced to do it. You were certain that you were done with the punishment, but when you didn't show up for detention at the end of it all, you were given another week's worth. It was apparently two days too early. The next time you were sure you were in the clear, you came in and checked with the US History teacher who still had you listed for the day. The next day, you talked to the principal who said you had two more days, and of course that day you got in trouble for cussing in English class, which would've only been one day if it hadn't turned into a shouting match with the teacher who wore rings on every finger. That's another week. The endless punishment. Seven to four, Monday through Friday. You contemplate writing a book about it. The Endless Punishment: My Life in Detention. The teacher catches someone sleeping and slams a book down near their head, loud enough to make all of you jump out of your seat. "Detention isn't for sleeping. Detention is for contemplating what you've done." She walks behind you and stops. "Think about how your actions affect other people and yourselves." You lean your head back and look at her upside down. "Knock it off," she says immediately and moves on to the next person several feet away. Someone diagonally across the table throws a tiny wad of paper at you. You pick it up and throw it back. It lands in his hair and he tries to fish it out, but keeps missing it by an inch. He mouths something like, Where is it? You try not to laugh and point to your own head as an indicator of where it is on his. He, of course immediately goes for the other side of his head. You try not to laugh as he fishes for it before shaking his hair out. The teacher totally loses it and shouts, "Stop shaking your head!" which cracks you up and now the other kid is laughing too. She stomps over all heavy-footed. "I don't see anything that's funny here." How can she miss the wad of paper in his hair? How do teachers do it? Act so serious and lecture someone who has paper in their hair? "Charlie, what did I just tell you? Were you not paying attention? The purpose of detention is not to have fun. You are to be staring straight ahead and contemplating what you've done to get you here in the first place." "Right, except I don't know why I'm here." She puts her hands on her hips. No funny business. "What do you mean you don't know why you're here?" "I mean, I've been in detention every day for like a month. I don't even know what this particular detention is for." The Paper Guy starts laughing which pisses her off even more. "If you think it's so amusing to be in detention, then why don't we just keep you for the rest of the week?" You shrug, "I'm pretty sure I'm already in here for the rest of the week." Her eye twitches in response. "Great, let's do next week too then. How about that?" You look around as everyone else avoids looking at the spectacle of you two in the middle of the room. "I mean, yeah, we can. I'm probably already set to be in here, but whatever." "Don't worry, I'll see where you're at and just add a week onto that. I'll talk to the principal tomorrow." She waits for a reaction, but she isn't going to get one so she starts walking away still running her mouth. "Maybe we'll talk to your parents too. I'll set up a meeting with them. Don't worry about it." And you're the one who gets called immature. Maybe it's not so different from The Breakfast Club after all, so commence the Endless Punishment. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** You know, oh, it's a funny thing, you know? We'll tell them if you like We'll tell them all tonight They'll never listen Because their minds are made up And course it's all OK to carry on that way |
| 30DBC: Write a story that includes fish sticks in some central way. Yup, that's right. Fish sticks. Frozen, fried fish sticks. WTMR: 7. Vent. BLOG CITY: You have just cloned yourself. What responsiblities will you give your clone? 30DBC:Welcome to the first day of mandatory entries! There's a name for this and it's perfectly descriptive and long. Let me go find it. Ah, here we go: Day One of The 30 Day Blogging Challenge's Unofficial Elimination Style, Fundraising, Blogging Challenge "Head to Head" Team Blogging Could I think of a Longer Name? Blog Challenge.  Fish sticks, eh? Yeah, I've measured out my life in fish sticks before, as TS Eliot would say. Remember that, Cinn  ? Fish sticks remind me of being a kid because my mum would buy them all the time for me and my brothers to have for lunch while we were on summer break. Pretty much all of our food was highly processed junk back then. I so miss that. I miss waking up at one in the afternoon and having it not matter at all because there was absolutely nothing to do anyway. I don't typically associate foods with memories the way I do music, but fish sticks are totally a summer vacation food. I haven't had any since I was probably fourteen. I don't even know if adults eat fish sticks, but I think I'll find out when I read everyone else's entries today. I guess I wouldn't really know because I don't eat meat anymore. I haven't in the last six or seven years and even before then, it was a rare thing.Oh, transport me back to the careless days of youth where afternoons were filled with trash TV and frozen meals! Make me a slave of the summer and bleach my bones in sunlight. Seriously, it's like zero degrees here, that's Fahrenheit, folks. It's windy as hell and I think I'll freeze instantly if I try to leave the house. The best I can do is reminisce on those damn fish sticks. I guess South Park did kind of put a new twist on this with their Kanye West likes fish sticks joke. I'll leave you with that for today: [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] WTMR: Well, you asked for it, Rhonda! Why do people go to college if they're not going to take it seriously? My math class is so frustrating. We go in and do a lecture for an hour and a half or two hours, then the second we get our assignment, people want to ask questions about what we were just on for hours. They don't participate at all in the lecture part and don't ask questions along the way. It's like they forget that there's going to be a point in the day where they're going to have to do math too. I don't know how my professor does it because I'd be kind of pissed if I lectured about rational expressions for two hours and then had someone raise their hand during the assignment and ask what a rational expression was. Over half of the class failed the first test and then only four of us showed up to the next class. I don't know why it bothers me. They're adults, they can make their own choices. I guess it's just annoying because I have to sit there and listen to the same things being repeated over and over. Why not just pay attention the first time? I swear, we had one guy yesterday ask why there was an 'X' used in every problem.  It's an algebra class. Oh, and no, he didn't know what a variable was when he was told that's what 'X' is. I've done the math and this course costs like sixty bucks a session. Who in their right mind would want to retake a class at that price? Well, probably the ones who don't know how to figure out how much it costs per session. Guess I just answered my own question. BLOG CITY: I would totally delegate all the shit I don't wanna do to my clone. I'd just be chilling while he ran around cleaning, working and studying. That would be awesome. Actually, if I could even do that for like a week it would be awesome. I don't even need him forever. Oh, I just thought of something. I could be in two places at once. That would be like awesome productivity levels. I'd study while my clone worked because work sucks more than studying usually. Once we got everything done, then we could chill together. Ah, man, please make this a reality! Do you ever feel like you don't have enough hands to do something? Like, my mind will be functioning fine, but I don't physically have enough hands to write an email, make a call, do the dishes, and take a test at the same time. That's what my clone would do. He'd just function as an extra set of hands. Plus, who doesn't want to hang out with their self? I'd love to hang out with myself and see what myself thinks of myself. The more I take about this, the funner it sounds. |
Artist: Interpol Album: Turn On The Bright Lights Song: PDA [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Lyrics Dak's house is dirty. It's downright disgusting, if you want to get down to it. There are a ton of dishes in the sink and the whole place reeks of cigarette smoke. The wallpaper is peeling off the walls, and what's left of it is a dull memory of floral. There are three couches in the living room, but no television set, so they're all facing an empty wall like someone just walked in and stole all the entertainment, which wouldn't be surprising given the area. Maybe there was a huge flatscreen with an expensive surround sound and the looters just walked in and out with it while everyone stared on with glazed over eyes, too far gone to say anything. Her room is upstairs on the left, not to be confused with upstairs on the right where the girl with the shaved head and bangs spends her time painting and drawing disfigured women to sell on the internet. It's some sort of feminist movement that, "You wouldn't understand with your X and Y chromosomes." Between them is a bathroom and it's full of empty bottles of shampoo, soap, and perfume. It's messier than you could ever imagine three girls being, although the girl whose bedroom is downstairs seems to have a different guy living with them every other week. You've taken to calling them all 'Jason' because it seems like there's been ten of those now. It's worth it for the confused look, "Sup, Jason? You get the big promotion?" "...Dafuq is he talking about?" You find her upstairs, on the left, not the right, reading the inserts of vinyl records she has spilled over the bed in front of her. She looks up when you walk in. "I like the ones that include lyrics, don't you?" "How you feeling?" you ask, ignoring her. "I ate a piece of toast this morning and had some orange juice, but then I vomited it all up." "That sucks." You try to look for a clean surface to put your coat. "You want me to get you anything? Maybe some tea or something?" "Can pregnant people have tea?" You think about it for a second. Can they? "Yeah, I'm pretty sure they can." "We don't have any tea. Can you get me some of that hot peach tea from Starbucks?" You put your gloves back on. You never did find somewhere clean to put them. "Yeah, I'll be back." "Wait, never mind. I don't want any. Come here. Have you seen this one?" You sigh and wipe at your face, classic sign of annoyance. "I just came by to check on you. I can't stay." She looks up, eyebrows tense with confusion. "You should stay. How's Kira? You can stay here you know." You laugh and look at the door, still standing awkwardly between it and her. "What? You could sleep on the couch. It'll be okay." "Right, which couch would that be? The couch that smells like cat urine, the couch that smells like smoke, or the couch that's missing a cushion. Where did that cushion go anyway? Do you even know?" "You can just say no. You don't have to be a dick." You can see the sun getting lower in the sky from the picture window beside the bed. She'll be wondering where you are. "Okay, well, I hope you feel better. I'll see you later." "When are you going to come visit for more than five minutes?" she asks, going back to her records. No need to respond. You open the door and run right into the girl with the shaved head. "Sorry." "You should be," she snaps, slamming the bedroom door shut behind her. Comparably speaking, it's a good visit. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** Sleep tight, grim rite, We have two hundred couches where you can Sleep tonight |
| 30DBC: Don't write! Read! Go back and look over all the prompts, all the instructions, the objectives, and the requests I have made of the players. Read the comments I have made on your blog entries and the comments I have made on the blog entries you haven't read. WTMR: 1. What's the one thing most likely to prevent you from writing a new entry in your blog? 30DBC: I don't think I need to do much with today's 'no writing' prompt. I already read a ton of entries and comment on them. Half of the fun of blogging for me is seeing how other people respond to a prompt. If I read one, but have nothing to really add to it, I'll hit the 'like' button and move on. If I can think of anything to add, I'll leave a comment and hit the like button so that the person knows I appreciate them blogging and also have something to say about it. I mean, really, imagine a blogging world where none of us interacted. How long do you think you would keep blogging if you never got readers or comments? It's half-interaction/half-writing, for me anyway.As far as the rules of the game, I think I get them for the most part. I think people's frustration with the first couple eliminations of Lyn's a Witchy Woman  and Julie D - PUBLISHED!  was that there were some people who didn't even post entries, like, at all. So when someone like Lyn or Julie, who have been participating to the fullest, get eliminated before the people who haven't even been doing anything with the challenge, I can see where some people might get a little confused.The new team challenge we're getting ready to do sounds like a lot of fun! I think everything will work out fine. It is difficult to manage something like this, I'm sure, especially on a whim. Now that we've gotten some things squared away, I'm sure it'll be smooth sailing from here on out. There is ONE thing I still don't understand. If Elle - on hiatus has immunity for the rest of the challenge, doesn't that mean she automatically wins?  Anyway, I love you. Let's just hold hands and sing campfire songs.  WTMR: TIME. Such an easy answer for me. The absolute only thing that will stop me from writing a blog entry is time restrictions. It's hard when you're looking at the clock and realize that you have twenty minutes to squeeze out an entry before you have to go to class or start working. I have it better than a lot of people, probably, because I do work from home. It makes it a bit easier to spend a few extra minutes writing something down, but it all catches up at the end of the school week or near a deadline because then that 20 minutes to write an entry is suddenly 10 minutes and that's when I have the most trouble writing one.What I've started doing is writing my entries the night before while I'm laying in bed. I have trouble sleeping, so I might as well be doing something productive with that time. Except for this entry, which I'm writing before I finish my math homework and get ready for class. Still, this one is only going to take 15-20 minutes to write, and I think that's pretty good. I don't really let time be an excuse for my lack of blogging because, even when I'm pulling 15 hour days between school and work, it's hard to say, "Ah, I just didn't have 15 minutes out of 24 hours to write an entry! I've already been using it as an excuse to not review, although to be fair, that takes a lot longer than a blog entry typically. I did manage to do 7 reviews yesterday though, which were my first all month. I'm happy about thatIt's funny to me that my break from work and school would be reviewing, but it really is. After going through all sorts of assignments, writing a few reviews seems like an easy task. The ones I wrote yesterday weren't really top notch quality for me, but I've barely done any in the last six weeks, so it's a little bit difficult to get back into. They were all 1700-3200 characters though, so I guess it wasn't so bad. |
Artist: Sublime Album: Sublime Song: Garden Grove [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Lyrics It’s called Hollywood, like California, but it’s not. Emmy has been begging you to go for the last couple weeks and you’ve finally relented, hopping into the passenger side of her Pontiac Sunbird convertible, undoubtedly another ‘gift’ from her sponsor. You’re still getting used to this new Emmy, the positive one, instead of the sarcastic, angry girl you met. You have to hand it to her; sobriety has done wonders for her world outlook. “The beaches down here are pretty much untapped. They’re the best place to just chill out all day,” she talks excitedly, turning up the music. Sublime. Perfect for a town in Florida named after a place in California. “Why don’t they have their own name?” “Huh?” she shouts over the wind and music. “Hollywood, why didn’t they think of their own name?” She laughs this time, letting you know she’s heard you. “You’ll see.” It’s a super quick drive, making you feel bad for a second about not agreeing to go sooner. She parks right by the beach and hops out, reaching her hand out for you as you get out of the car. You hold hands as you walk down the boardwalk. She was right. The beach is a lot less crowded than the ones in Ft. Lauderdale. The water is a perfect teal and the shops along one side of the boardwalk feel familiar. A family rides by on their bicycles. There’s a perfect row of palm trees separating the shops from the beach. Still… “Something seems a bit…” “Planned?” she asks. “Yeah, it’s a planned community. The developer wanted to create a slide of California in Florida. Kinda cool, huh?” “You ever been to Hollywood, California?” “Yeah, when I was younger, but not Hollywood.” She eyes you for a minute. “Chill out, Charlie. It’s fun. Relaaaax.” It’s complete role reversal. You’ve become the one who wants to hang out in bed all day, stoned and watching 80’s movies all day. She must’ve left that stain on you when she left. “Swim?” you ask. “Race you,” she shoots back, taking off toward the water, but she’s no match for you. The afternoon is spent relaxing in the warm waters. Back home, you’d never be able to go the beach this early in the year, but the sun is bright and hot overhead as you float on your backs and talk about the future for once instead of the past. Lunch is an underwater-themed restaurant where Emmy orders something nasty like mussels and teases you a bit about your simple salad. After, you walk around the boardwalk and buy each other gaudy ‘beach’ things like oversized sunglasses and obnoxious shell necklaces. You buy a couple beach towels too because neither of you thought to bring them from home, and you doubted she had any anyway. That’s not exactly a post-rehab priority. “We should do this more often,” she says, as you lay on your stomachs, half watching the sunset. You think Ft. Lauderdale can’t possibly be the driest city in the world, but nothing you can crush up and snort, nothing you can pump through your veins is worth leaving her alone to watch the sun fade on a perfect day. But it’s too late, the thought has already formed and it spiders over the top of your scalp, a tingly web. “We should go.” “Huh?” Emmy asks, sitting up and facing you. You sit up too. “We should. We should go.” “What are you talking about?” The surprise in her voice bites as you grab your towel and start backing away. “I’m sorry. It’s just time to go.” You start walking back toward the street, not even sure if you’re running toward something or just away from her. She catches up quickly; the souvenirs bundled in her arms. “Wait a minute. What’s the hurry?” “Sorry, just a bit of anxiety,” you lie. “You know how that is.” The ride back is awkward with no music and feels much longer than the ride there. You could’ve just taken a bus and you make a mental note of that for next time because there will be a next time. “Well, it was fun while it lasted,” Emmy says brightly. “Maybe we’ll go again next week?” “Next week? Yeah, for sure,” you agree, not sure what you’re agreeing to. The second the car stops in the apartment complex parking lot, you hit the ground running. “Whoa, hold up a second,” she says, getting out of the car too. “Where are you going?” “I just need to get away for a minute… clear my head.” You feel uncomfortable under the weight of her stare. “Come on, don’t do this. You don’t need to do this. Let’s just go inside and watch a movie or something. Please.” Her realization is even harder to swallow than your own. You contemplate, but it only takes a second before you start walking away. Once the idea has formed, it grows legs and you have to chase it. ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** If you only knew that all the love that I found It's hard to keep my soul on the ground |
| 30DBC: I was born to _________... WTMR: 7. Describe your blogging style. How does it differ from other blogs that you read? BLOG CITY: What do you think about thinking itself, in general? Do humans think all the time? BCOF: Tell me about a time when either you needed help or you helped someone else. Everyone needs help some time. If you want you can use this to write about a small act of kindness or a large act of kindness. 30DBC:I thought you’d never asked! I was put here to rein over the world. You know, bring war to peace-torn African countries and that sort of thing. Where do I see myself in ten years? I’m definitely seeing world dictator in my future. I’ll put us all into massive debt by investing heavily in space programs and develop Mars. Then when people piss me off, I’ll kick them off my planet. I’ll have a giant slingshot that aims them straight toward Mars so we don’t even have to use a shuttle every time. Sometimes I’ll aim it a little too high and those bastards will be lost, floating around between worlds forever. OR MAYBE I’m meant to be a plain ‘ol dude and bide my time in a stale office, live a placid life. Normal, normal, normal. I’ll wear white button downs and a tie while crunching numbers and staring at a clock. Tick, tick, tick. People will see me and say, “Hey, that’s a normal dude. Nothing to see here, move along.” I’ll be a respectable member of society, a working class citizen who pays taxes for school corporations where I don’t even have kids. A big night out will be Friday at Red Lobster and a war movie. Maybe I’ll go on vacation once every couple years and live my life comfortably. OR POSSIBLY I’ll be somewhere in between those two? Someone who fucks up and loses their mind every once in a while, but generally tries to do the right thing and treat people well. I’ll be a person with interests and hobbies who works during the day and goes to a concert over the weekend. I’ll be someone who can have a drink, or ten, and hail a taxi to make it home safe in bed before I do something too stupid. Maybe I’ll find a balance, the key to longevity… Or maybe I won’t. Only time will tell. WTMR: Generally speaking, I feel like I'm a lot more emotional and open than a lot of other bloggers. My filter is almost nonexistent, so there have been plenty of times where I've said something and thought later that I probably shouldn't have said it. With most super important things, I do keep a bit of a wall up, but I talk a lot about my life and different things going on it, whereas it seems like a lot of other blogs are more straightforward with answering the prompts and not getting to personally or emotionally involved in it. I can definitely appreciate both styles of blogging. It would be boring if we all did it the same way. Sometimes I like reading the ones where I know I'm going to get a new perspective on a particular prompt. There are others who I expect to check in on them a bit more personally when I read their blog, and I think I fall into that category. It's rare for me to simply answer a blog without including a life experience or something that's probably TMI, but I kind of really need to say anyway. When I'm not sharing personal things in my blog, I feel like I'm not being true to myself as a blogger. It almost feels like when you're lying by omission and there's a level of guilt with it because you know what you really should be saying or what you want to say, but instead you're just filling up the lines and hitting submit. I'm glad that we have an eclectic pool of bloggers over all the different blogging groups. People have blogs where I learn something new almost every time I read them. Others are super open, like me, and some stick to the topic at hand and are willing to take on any prompt like a champ. There isn't a best or worst style, just a unique collage of awesomeness and something for anyone's preference. BLOG CITY: I can't speak for everyone, but I think I think all the time. I can't even sleep at night because my mind won't just shut down and let me rest long enough to sleep. When I do fall asleep for a long enough period of time, I have weird anxiety dreams where I'm trying to fix a problem with a limited amount of time and resources. I always end up waking up before I figure anything out, but the feeling of anxiety stays with me for the rest of the night. I will say that the more sober I am, the more I think. My mind races and I get these nervous mannerisms that drive everyone around me crazy. I bounce my knees when I'm sitting, pop my knuckles, and countless other mindless things that I don't even realize I'm doing until someone says, "Stop biting your lip/wringing your hands/messing with your hair!" I've been sleeping less and less with the less I've been drinking or doing other things. I'm not as sick physically. I can eat food and things actually sound appetizing sometimes. But mentally, damn, between the racing thoughts, the anxiety, depression, insomnia... The sober life just isn't for me. I don't know how people do it, but I commend you if you're able. Some people have told me they don't think all the time. I've asked a few people if they have trouble turning their mind off or if their thoughts race constantly. Most of them have said no or they'll say that unless something is wrong that's really stressing them out, they don't have that issue. I would think that everyone thinks most of the time though, right? I can't remember the last time I didn't have at least a few thoughts tumbling through my mind. Do people really just sit and think about nothing? That sounds absurd to me. BCOF: I need help all the time. I'm surprised at how willing people are to talk you through things. I try to be a fair conversationalist though. I have no idea if I'm successful or not, but here's the thing. Most of the help I need is just someone who's willing to listen and offer up a little bit of advice here and there. I'm not really the type to ask someone for huge favors. The thing is, you can't be the type who wants to talk about yourself and your problems constantly without giving the other person a chance to engage as well. It's just terrible etiquette. Like when your friend is talking about some personal issue for an hour, then you mention something you're dealing with and they immediately turn the conversation back to their problem. I mean, there's no big issue with doing that every now and then when you're really upset about something, but if that's how you engage on a regular basis, you're a selfish conversationalist and you should stop it. You know the people I'm talking about; the ones who turn everything you say back into their personal issue and won't let you just have a thought/opinion/feeling without somehow relating it to this one issue. It's like, "How did me talking about this awesome book I read turn back into you talking about how you hate your boss?" Now, I get that I may sound like a wee bit of a jerk here, but you all know it's true. Please, if I ever do this to you, tell me to shut up. I promise I'll be okay with it because I'd rather be told to knock it off than have people saying, "Damn, Charlie's the one who only talks about himself, right? Yeah, not gonna attempt a conversation with him." If you want to be helped in that supportive, conversational way, you have to be willing to engage your supporters who inevitably also have problems going on in their life. It's only fair.  |
Artist: Blondie Album: Parallel Lines Song: Heart of Glass [Embed For Use By Upgraded+] Lyrics The bar is smoky and dingy with terrible dim orangish lighting and graffiti on pretty much every visible surface. The girl bartender has a faded chest piece over her sad, drooping cleavage and the other guy has implanted devil horns in his forehead. You aren't sure if this is your scene or if you even have a scene yet, but she guarantees they won't card here and they haven't. Still, you wish she'd hurry up and get back from the restroom, just in case someone starts getting suspicious. You think about trading the bar stool for a booth in the back, but you told her you would wait here for her. The other bar had a lot younger crowd, but they're kind of a crapshoot and tonight is an "ID at the door" kinda night. A woman slides in next to you smelling of stale cigarettes and cheap booze. She's a lot older than you, probably in her late thirties and it's obvious she's been doing this for a while. She probably hasn't even had a drink yet tonight, people like her sweat alcohol. Her elbow brushes your arm as she grabs her canned beer from the bartender. "You know," she says, turning around to face sideways on her stool like you are. "This song is about cocaine." You contemplate not responding and turn to face away from the bar so your knees will stop touching. She adjusts her bedazzled, ill-fitting tank top. Fucking Ed Hardy. "No it's not." "Huh?!" Why is she yelling. The music isn't even that loud. "I said, 'This song is not about cocaine.'" She stares at you for a minute, then laughs and takes a swig of her beer. "Oh yeah, smart guy? Enlighten us then." You shrug. Why do you even bother with drunken bar banter? You see her making her way back from the bathroom and when your eyes meet, that familiar pitter-patter in your chest makes you catch your breath. You stand up, turning to your new bar buddy. "I'm pretty sure it's just about finding out that the person you're in a relationship with sucks." She rolls her eyes dramatically. "You're tellin' me, man. We can relate to that, huh?" Kira points to a booth near the back and you nod as she sits down. You grab the drinks and say something snotty like, "No we can't" before walking to the back of the bar. "You always make new friends when you're out?" she asks, as you hand over her drink. "Well, sorta, yeah." She laughs in response. You can hear a lot better back here. Maybe the music was louder near the bar than you thought. "You think she's hot?" The question takes you off guard. "Huh? No, no thank you." She eyes the woman who has started talking to the horned bartender. "Oh, I dunno, she's not so bad in the 'party mom who tries to be your best friend' kinda way." You laugh. "Not my cup of tea." "So who is your cup of tea then?" You look at her. "And you can't say me!" She laughs, stirring her drink. "You were about to say me, weren't you?" You blush. Is the idea so absurd? "No seriously," she continues. "If you could go home with any of the girls in here tonight, who would you pick?" You scoff. "Oh come on. I've been around the block more than once. You're not gonna trip me up that easily." She looks at you with feigned shock and innocently claims, "What? I'm genuinely curious. I won't get mad, I swear." She eyes you for a minute, sparkling sapphires. Mischievous. "You tell me yours, I'll tell you mine?" This girl must be off her rocker, maybe some toys in the attic. "Why would I want to hear about what guy you wanna go home with?" She shakes her head and smiles. "Not which guy. Which girl." You raise your eyebrows and finish your drink. "I dunno..." "Come on, play along with me." She pouts and then smiles in response when you start looking around the bar. Pickings are slim. There's a couple on the other side of the room. He consoles her as she cries. Public break up. Nice. Two slightly overweight girls dance in the middle of the room to Reba McEntire. Wait, no... Shania Twain. A group of guys are taking up two tables, being obnoxiously loud about some game that's on mute on the TV, their wedding fingers like shiny anchors around their fingers as they eye a girl walking by. A group of women in their forties are sitting nearby, cackling loudly and complaining about the lack of karaoke. Girls night out that's been planned for weeks confirmed. This is a big deal for them. Your eyes finally fall on two girls sitting together near the bar. One has a mass of wavy ready hair. Her back is to you. The others is a mousy looking brunette with black-rimmed glasses who twirls her stirrer and holds her chin down as she talks. "Her." "Who? Kira asks excitedly trying to follow your gaze. "The one with the glasses, left of the bar." "The redhead?" "No, the brunette." She pulls a face immediately and snaps, "What? Ew, Charlie, that's gross!" "Wait, what? Why is that gross?" "Why her?" You shrug. "I dunno, she looks like she reads, I guess." "What, because she wears glasses she must read? You think every girl who wears glasses like to read?" You shake your head. "No, I don't know, maybe subconsciously. See, I hate games like this. Please don't play games like this." You run your hand through your hair and start bouncing your legs. Anxiety. She laughs then, her demeanor completely changing. "Don't get stressed out over it. I was just surprised, that's all." "Well, why? Who would you have said?" She starts to slide out of the booth. "Where are you going?" She stops. "I'm gonna go talk to her for you, silly." Panic creeps into your throat and you grab her wrist. "What? No, don't do that. Why would you do that?" "Because I'm a good friend?" She pulls away from you and stands up. "Oh my god, please don't do that. I don't really want to hook up with her or anything. I was just picking someone because you told me to." She stares at you for a second and then laughs. "Oh my god, you're so cute when you get frustrated. You didn't seriously think I'd do that, did you?" She holds her hand out toward you. "Come on, let's get out of here. This place sucks." ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** In between What I find is pleasing and I'm feeling fine Love is so confusing there's no peace of mind |
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I'm still so confused. How did they get to senior-level finance with so little know-how. I don't get it. 
It's great to see you back around. I'm sorry you've been having life issues. I hope you're doing much better now? You know I have a foul mouth. 
People definitely tend to jump straight to the worst conclusion when any problem arises, which is why you so frequently hear, "My computer is broken!" when there's really a simple fix. 
Just why. It's so gross. We need to get you some personal finance help! This is only tangentially related and not a statement on you, but one of the nonprofits I work with consists of me making budget plans for people who were recently homeless and have just gotten back on their feet. A lot of the people I work with have only been at their job for less than a month or been in an apartment for a week or two. My role is to gather all of their financial information and then consult with them on their bills, disposable income, purchases, and stuff like that. It's shocking to see the financial decisions people make after just being homeless. I'm like, dude, you were just homeless 2 weeks ago. 
I have seen so much of the disasters it has caused with some people. I have in the past been unconsciously roped into financial situations that were most unpleasant and having to make sensible plans to unravel them.