.to the darkside, biotch!.

i read this book today about relationship. it's called the "The Book of Vader" by one of my friend's co-workers who's trying to get it published. i have to say... this shit is funny and real.

"This book... is not an emotional filled, hold-your-hand book. If you thought so, put this down."

"If a relationship is a house, then sex will have it built on sand. It won't stand for long."

"Need + Greed = Want. You need air; if you keep extra air that some can use, that is greed. Why do you keep it...? You just want it. It's the same way with cock-blockers. All hail the wingman."

"Look carefully at someone's forehead. Look for the 'Damaged Goods' stamp."

"You can spend $5 with the 'get to know you' cups of coffee, or you can spend $200 on dinner, dancing, then a movie- and still not get the ass... it's almost like a gambling table. You have to know when to walk away. Hell, we ALL pay for pussy, but 99% of us do it indirectly."

"Handle your shit."

though the source is questionable, the male empowerment through-out the book was exactly what i needed. in the preface, he states that it was made for "entertainment" purposes, and i took it in as that, but, damn... did i also take it to heart. for a minute i tried to remember where i had placed my balls. i had forgotten what it was like NOT to be under the gaze of a female and just be myself.

currently i'm surrounded by females here at starbucks, ranging ages from 17 to 22 (total guess... they're probably all 15 judging by their fashion choices), who are on-and-on yapping about "he said, she said" crap. that's what i liked about vy... though she liked to do that also, she was mature about all things in life.

i'm a silly bastard. i guess that's the problem with me. but after that reading i felt a "force" as he calls it. i feel like i can handle any situation now with a Charles Bronson like swagger. i'm tired of being a sappy shit, (though i know i'll always be like that in the end), and for now i need to rebuild what made me so damn dope in her eyes in the first place... be a god-damn man.

(god damn, i'm reading this through and i sound like a complete pansy-ass. oh well, fuck it)

.i'm ok, let me be.

like i've said in the past, you can't go wrong with a good mission statement:

"I love Vy, but i am unhappy with your current outlook with me and our relationship. if breaking up will change your view of myself and life itself, then it's all worth it. if things continue the way they are now, we will both be unhappy in the future."

though subluminally i enjoy it, i hate being right, because it's causing me grief now, but i'm at that stage of acceptance. you know, i still can't believe i actually encourage this. at times i hurt and other times, though not so much, i'm hopeful.

last night she called. i found myself not being able to speak. i wanted to know everything about her all over again, but then i couldn't bring myself to say anything at all. i've never experienced so much confusion in my life about anything. how can you be in love with someone and hate them all at the same time.

anyhow... i'm tired of talking about things like this... things will get better with her and myself, either seperately or together, until then i'm dropping the issue. it'll eat at me, but, you know... i'm not dead. to be cliche: "if you hold a bird too tight it will die, if you let it go and it comes back, it was meant to be."

on a lighter note, i'd like to take this oppotunity to talk about Herbert(this is my journal, dammit... i can talk about whatever the hell i want). Herbert is the name ben, clint, mike, joseph, and myself used to give to stray animals that would somehow become repetative in our lives. it began when we all used to work at Chuck E. Cheese's, where there was 1 horse fly that would fly for months around the back rooms... just 1, and we named him Herbert. to this day there's been Herbert the Fly, Herbert the Stray Dog, Herbert the Snake and Herbert the Cigarette Begging Beach Bum.

my new Herbert is a grass lizard. last thursday, he started started sun bathing on the hood of my car daily. apparently, he's moved in and is now claiming it as his own. though i do question his taste in vehicle choice, his company is much appreciated on dull trips to wherever. his tolerance for clinging onto the hood is about 47 mph. anything above that, and he begins slipping to his certain doom. i've caught and thrown him off twice, but the next day, he's there... chilling and waiting to go for a ride. yes, it's absurd to think that's what he's really waiting to do that, but dogs do it... why not lizards?

this is Herbert, today at school:


lastly, here are some pictures from ryan and jane's wedding:
    

    

    

    




personal notes:
-due to a singular demand from my cousin steph, i'm starting a ::sigh:: myspace.com page. i hope to use that as a venue for beats and maybe make a little on the side again.
-download itunes on laptop
-buy books for econ, egn3025, and egn3108
-make obnoxious sign for graduation

.another day after (self analysis).

i still feel the same way i did yesterday, which was the same as i felt last week, and the rest of month pretty much... and the only way i can find comfort is through anger and regret

but that's not me. that's not how i deal with stressful situations. i blame the testosterone.

i dropped my obligations for most of the afternoon and went to my spot on the wooden walkway by the life-guard station, where joe, ben, and myself spent the last weekend before i moved to orlando. i spent a majority of the time contemplating life, sometimes broken up by the somewhat disturbing sight two over-weight women tanning...

=/

during that time, i came out of my sorrowful haze... all that sadness converted into hate, and i mean HATE. my fists balled, my teeth clinched, and i was ready to fuck something up.

but like i said before... that's not me.

eventually that rage transformed into bland realization. so bland, that if my realization were actually tangible... it'd be a pair of pleated beige khakis, like so:

hurts, doesn't it?...

so here i am now, with this unwanted feeling of khaki, promising myself that i will not let her change her decision. that no matter how i may feel, i have to remember that she needs this opportunity to let her be whatever she wants to be...

am i hurt? fucking yeah...
am i pissed off? yes...
do i blame her? no...
will i wait? i don't know anymore...

whatever... i'm done with this shit. hope she'll understand if i don't answer if she calls tonight... this was last thing i needed after being all sappy and shit during a wedding. fuck it... i'm tired of drama-ful bullshit... i can't catch a god damn break...

here, have a WTF moment:

fucking tired...

my title probably says it all... i'm pretty much fed up with shit...

i know that my life at this moment is not as stressful as most, but neither am i complacent with current events.

i even bought myself some of my oldtime comfort food. i can feel all the fat on the left side of my body jiggling with glee.

i tried spending most of the day zoning out, trying to accomplish short term goals, getting shit done; basically your modern day escapism... but i'll always have free time to think and all those things that i've spent my time trying to avoid come flooding through my head again...

maybe now is the time to disconnect myself... because i don't see shit getting better until i get better mentally...

on a lighter note, i was really glad to see steph after all these years and i my best wishes go out to ryan and my cousin jane...

anyhow... i think i'll go visit with john and something familiar.

an april fool

i haven't had a real post since... damn, december?... and a lot's happen since then... a lot i don't care to talk about... however, i have been doing a lot of "missing" as of recently... day dreaming of days gone by, i guess you would call it...

i guess this post sparked up today first at starbucks this afternoon while having my triple venti vanilla latte while joe had his venti hot chocolate. just recently he's been talking to this girl he met online, nay, an online video game. posh, perhaps you the general public would say, but in his eyes was a very tangible gleam of something i knew all too familiar. i know people who would rightfully justify this to be as a temporary emotion, only to last as long as the excitiment of a new relationship lingers... but, when is that not the case? every single relationship is like that, even the one that i have with my Ipod -- who, btw, has waited five months for a library update. anyhow, a mojority of the time after that, i kept looking back to that time four years ago... how four years ago i felt i had fallen in love with an angel.

the next event to spark this post began when i went to Publix to buy an "8 piece mixed" of chicken (that's 2 breast, thighs, wings, and drumsticks). i strolled into the snack aisle on the way to the deli to by coincedence. i eyes became afixed upon "Tom's Hot Fries" and a box of "Pop Tarts" (plain old cinnamon, of course, with none of that icing crap at the top). i thought about how those products being such a staple for me when i lived and shopped alone in orlando. after picking up my "8 piece," i thought about how rainer would call me sunday afternoon and state the following: "Bro, hurry your ass up, the Jaguars just scored... No they didn't. Just hurry up, ok? I'm hungry and I already made rice." good times.

lastly, i went outside around 9pm to grab something from my car; 3 houses down, where there's a party currently going down at jon-jon's old house. for a minute i returned to my childhood... and then regreted it for another minute, seeing as how Jacky & Jenny, Krystal, and several others would tease me, calling me a fatty and the like... ugh, those bastards can all rot... or at least get called "fatty" by their own children... yeah, i'd be content with that.