Filed under: my life
Hello, readers. This is a blog that is a long time coming, and a long time procrastinated. I have already made a personal reservation to not bawl like a lost child whilst posting this, but I highly doubt this comes to fruition. There is a whirlwind of a clusterfuck of shit happening around me, and I am the cause of most of it. This post is going to be me saying goodbye to the folks I’m leaving behind when I head off to college. And this sounds cheesy, mainly because I’m only two hours away. Anyway, I’ll do what I can.
I didn’t foresee myself doing this. I was happy going to Pitt State and getting a degree in Secondary Education and just living out my life as a teacher. But the thought of being able to make a career out of acting was too tempting to let slip away. I enrolled at Missouri State, which is located in Springfield, the aforementioned two hours away. This is a major turn from what I had planned for myself, but I know it’s the right move. And it sucks, knowing I’m going to be so far away from everybody I love, but it’s what has to be done. So when I get constantly sniped at for leaving, it hurts…a lot. This post is me taking the time and thanking some folks individually for being there, and say a temporary goodbye to them as well. Mark my words, this is going to suck. Here we go, in no particular order.
———–Note: Started this before I left, and am now picking it up the night I returned to Springfield after my first weekend home.———
Garic, my brajah, and one of my best friends. Fuck man, I know we lost some time that I wish we could have back, and that blows. I’m sorry I was such a McAsshole. I’m going to miss you so damn much. Gaming it up, the talks on the way to Jamaal’s, bullshittin’, and just chilling in general. You are so much smarter and deeper than a lot of people give you credit for, but I’m one of the lucky few who have gotten to know you over the long course of time we’ve been related. When you posted on your blog that you thought I could make it as an actor, I damn near choked up. I appreciate all the confidence you have in me. Thank you. This paragraph should be infinitely longer, but I cannot seem to really drag it out any further. Don’t hesitate to come up and see me anytime, and when you do, fuckin’ bring the 360. I love you, my good sir.
M’lady, Morgan, is up next. I’m not really good at this whole schpeel, as you’ve undoubtedly read/heard/witnessed. We’ve been dating eight months, and it seems like so much longer, in a good way. To put it simply, we fucking rock as a couple, and regardless of whatever miff or tiff we may have, I wouldn’t trade us for the world…well, maybe the world…just kidding. I realize this is really hard on you, and I haven’t been very sensitive to the situation. All I can say is that you have nothing to worry about, and I think my close friends and family can vouch for me. I love you, and we will be together for the foreseeable future, and beyond that. Again, the paragraph should be longer, but I’m terrible at being anything but pointed.
Dad, you gave me a job over the past year, and within that year we’ve had some awesome days. I really am going to miss that place, regardless of how much longer it may or may not be there. Thank you, I love you, and keep Garic’s ass busy.
Harlee, you’re my lovely sister who is too grown up for her own good. I know you really hate when I’m gone, and I hate it too. Just remember that I’ll always be home at some point, and that until then you can always call me. I love you very much, little sister, and I promise I’ll be home as much as I can.
Drew, you’re one of my best friends, and it sucks that our lives are taking us in different directions. We’ve definitely had our wrinkles, but I will always think nothing but gloriousness about you, because you have always been there for me.
Allen, another of my closest confidantes. I’m not really sure what is going on with you, and I’m sorry it is that way. I wish you still considered yourself close enough to all of us to let us know what was up, but until then, just know that I’m always here for an ear. Like Drew, we’ve had our bouts, but without you I’m not sure what kind of person I would be today. We are drifting because of our life choices, but I will always think nothing but highly of you, and I wish you the very best in whatever field you finally decide to settle on. Lol.
Mom, I love you. You’ve always been there, and you have always known how to be a mom. Whether silent or with your words, nobody could have done a better job rearing me, and I give a shout out to the Big Man Upstairs for blessing me with such a wonderful woman. I miss being home a lot, and you’re a large part of that. It sucks not being able to wake up to you and Mel’s cooking, talking, and general being. Thank you both for everything you have done for me, and I miss you and love you guys.
Finally, Jamaal. Besides my mother, I credit you with having the single most impact on my life. And it’s not really fair to you, either, because it was pretty much thrust upon you. You showed me how to not care, basically. Because of you, I started to question shit around me, and I realized I didn’t much like what I saw. You showed me music, movies, and reading. I cannot thank you enough for just being there. Having a place to just be, it really let me figure out who I was during a few hectic time periods in my life. Gaming, music, reading, culture, and talking, through good, bad, happiness, heartbreaks, life, and death; I’ve been able to come and leave it all behind at your doorstep. It’s an entirely different world inside of your little room, and I am forever grateful to be a part of it. It blows that I cannot come over more, at least for me. I miss the weekend binges of movies and chatting, staying up until 7 AM just discussing any number of asinine scenarios. We’re both changing, there’s no denying that. In a sense, I guess you could say we are growing up. Me with college and you with your lady-friend. Fuckin’ a, man. As I’ve said before, nobody deserves it more than you. At the end of the day, all of the bitching I ever did about any of my situations never truly held a candle to yours, and yet you always made light of it. I will always consider you one of the most influential people in my life. Thank you for listening to the droves of shit I’ve vented, without complaint; and thanks for being one of my best friends.
Looking back, I realize how ridiculous this post is going to sound, considering I just seen most of you within a twelve hour period. Still, I needed to finish this. I started it, then put it off because I did not want to truly say goodbye to everything. And even though it really is only temporary, a week is the norm, it sucks ass. I want to see everybody. I want to wake up to Mom and Mel’s breakfast burritos, go to work with Dad, come home and play the Wii at the house with everybody, then bomb out of there and head to Jamaal’s with Garic to shoot the shit with everybody, and close the evening at about 2 AM with me falling asleep with my arms wrapped around my lovely lady. But I can’t, at least not for a week. Goodbye to romance, goodbye to friends. Goodbye to all of this. Fuck, I’m homesick, and I just left.
Well, that about does it for me. Best case scenario, I become miserable from withdrawals and am able to write again. Here’s hoping. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude.
P.S. Never be afraid to think for yourself.
Filed under: my life
Hello, readers, and welcome back to this blog. My title is two main words, but it’s also the reason why I’m posting this evening. I should probably fill this up with a clever introduction paragraph. Hmm, let’s see. No, that won’t do. Ah, here we go. No, that’s also terrible. Alright, here it goes. Nah, not good enough. Excuse me for a moment. (Takes a moment) Having exhausted all possible introductory options, I have found none that will suffice. I apologize for any inconvenience. There, I think that should work. Let’s move on.
First, I will start with a little bit of a personal vent. I will then move on to something hopefully more meaningful. I say this because the second subject is the one that really has pissed me off greatly. Let us roll most groovily.
Writing, for me, is something I enjoy doing. I’ve tried to brush this off as an emotional outlet, as just a way to cool off, but when push comes to shove, this is what I truly love. Excuse the rhyme, it really was unintentional. In any case, while I have quite the time writing, I am also rather self-conscious about it. It’s the tad bit of OCD that really grates on me. I’m a perfectionist on the things I can control, and this happens to be one of them.
So, when I cannot write, it hurts. And don’t get me wrong, I’m not pulling the whole ‘tortured soul’ angle, it just hurts. True writer’s block is so incredibly frustrating. Take now, for instance. Even as I type this, I am beginning to see that it’s shit. It goes nowhere, and my mind is heavily contemplating deleting it. While I acknowledge that I am proud of a few of the things I have written, I look at what I’ve attempted recently, and it’s just disgusting.
The point being, I think that proportion is a little skewed. From this standpoint, ten well-written words are worth about a thousand pictures. Anytime the picture is worth more than what’s being said, then the writing is meaningless. Good writing does not need pictures to aid it. It is its own illustration, and I think a lot of people pass it off very nonchalantly. My aim is always to give the readers, and normally myself, a picture of what exactly the fuck is going on in my mind and my heart. If I can’t do that decently, then I may as well pack it up and fuck off with the writing. So, to segue into my next subject, I’m going to try and paint a picture of absolute fury, with a smattering of frustration and rejection-of-idiocy as well.
I am attending Fort Scott Community College. Let me first start by saying that I’ve been given a pretty sweet deal of an opportunity monetarily. Because of my assorted scholarships, I’ve been able to save up a nice chunk of change for when I attend a real college…er…I mean, a university, next fall. In any case, I’m giddy as a school girl for having this work out as much to my advantage as it has. Having said all of that, I will now proceed to pinpoint some ridiculousness with the way this joint is run.
Within the college, I am active in very few things, mainly because I am lazy. Now that my days as the mascot are behind me, I can fully look to something that doesn’t involve over-sized fur costumes. Actually, since last semester, I have been involved with the Theatre program at the college. I like acting, I’m good at, and I’d done it in high school. It makes sense, so why I felt the need to justify it in the previous sentence is beyond me. Moving on. Not to totally discredit anybody (which is exactly what I’m doing), but what I’ve learned in a semester and half there is exponentially more than three years of high school nonsense. After half a quarter in high school, I realized it didn’t exactly take too much to look good at a 2A level, especially when that school and town is Uniontown. So, most everything I knew, I just did because it seemed right. Now, I’ve actually been able to learn something about acting, and Theatre in general (Learning, by the way, is not really required at FSCC. I don’t think administering well is, either.). Whatever the case may be, I have gained an immense amount of knowledge and respect for the art. A large part of why I have so thoroughly enjoyed the department is the instructor, who easily cracks my Top 2. She has been around pretty much all aspects of the business, and she doesn’t put up with anybody’s stupidity. While I think very highly of somebody that isn’t a kiss-ass, it would seem that others do not find this to be such a highly observed quality. As of today, it has been officially…officialized, I suppose, that her contract will not be renewed, at the recommendation of the President of the College. This pisses me off.
It is not warranted, you see. I believe it is more of a schmoozers being schmoozers. Giving a damn good instructor the axe because they speak their mind, and refuse to conform to the Rules of Southeast Kansas. But, that’s how people around here work. If something, or somebody, is different, they’re not ‘normal’. That automatically makes them bad, and steps must be taken to purge the system of such uncleanliness. You’re not allowed to think outside the normal. Don’t speak up, don’t think for yourself, don’t do for yourself. Go through the motions, smile, and shut the fuck up. Psh. When you take out the trash, don’t you typically start at the top? I think doing this would heavily alleviate a lot of stupidity within this establishment. Alas, it is not within my power, so I am subjected to writing this simple blog post describing my anger. It’s disgusting, watching people jerk off their dignity into the hands and wallets of those who could give money to the school. Injustice and idiocy – Better known as the President of FSCC. You’re quite welcome.
I cannot begin to even tell you how much this post does my anger an injustice. It does, however, ebb the tide a bit. Enough to perhaps let me sleep. I do believe I am done for the evening. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. I fucking hate it here.
It would seem that people don’t. Perhaps they are confused. I don’t send mixed signals, but, hey, people are stupid. So, this post is going to clear a few things up. Smile, fuckers, I’m excited. Oh, crap, almost forgot. Welcome back. I really have missed you all. Give your big ol’ Duder a nice big wet kiss. Who’s a good reader? That’s a good reader. Yes you are. Yes you are! There, I believe that suffices for an introductory paragraph. Shit, man, I really am geared up for this. Anyways, I have a thing about my intros at least being one hundred words, hence the drawing out of it. Alrighty, we’re good. Now, let’s move on for reals.
I have at least three things I want to discuss. I highly doubt my ability to do any three of these topics any justice, but I’ll give her the old heave ho and at least take a shot. They all deal with me, in one capacity or another. A shared characteristic is that they all annoy me, but then again, I wouldn’t be posting if I was all giddy. I will start with the least annoying, and move up in degree. First off, my brother.
He’s a fuck, basically. Yep, probably going to piss him off. Don’t care. I have confirmed, by his own stupidity (Left your convo right up on my screen, Garic.) that he and his wife are back together. It pisses me off, for a few reasons. First of all, it’s a sham. She uses him to do what she wants, and he just clambers along because he is whipped like a dog. She’s fucked him over TWICE now, and I have no doubts that a third installment will be in the works. And this is the part where I laugh heartily at what they think ‘love’ is. HA! That’s my hearty laugh. Come on, man. Her ‘feelings’ change quicker than I flip through channels. Grow a pair, get out from under her thumb, and leave that shit behind. Don’t be a puppet, fucking be yourself. The second reason I am displeased, in regards to Garic, is the fact that while they are together, they aren’t “together.” Basically, it means that they don’t have the nerve/balls to actually become official again. They know the kind of flak they will catch, and they deserve every bit of it. This ‘relationship’ is a crock of shit, and them being all secretive and cloak-and-daggery only fuels my anger. You cannot have your cake and eat it, too. But, that’s ‘love’ to them. They won’t even claim each other. Again, HA! I don’t know how you two take yourselves so seriously. A big fucking joke, and you’d be wise to figure that out. If you can’t take the consequences of your actions, then don’t fucking put yourself in that situation. This is me shaking my head in angered, bewildered, amusement.
Second on my list, my lady friend. Well, not so much her, as it is her…hmm…influences. Now, it is an accepted Law of Dude that my influence is infinite and knows no bounds. Because of this, I know many things from and about many people. I am privy to the knowledge that one of her better friends is wary of my intentions, and the legitimacy of said intentions. Why? She read a few of my blog posts, got pissed off about what I think, and then made her decision based on that. Genius, isn’t it? Well, now I feel obligated to explain myself. So here you go. This blog is me. If you don’t like it, you can blow me and fuck off. Just because my view of life, love, and the like is deeper than a “pizza and blowjobs with fairies in the sky” take does not mean I cannot be truthful in what I say. For fuck’s sake, all I speak of here is Truth. Why then, would I feel the need to lie just to establish and maintain a relationship? Backing that up, look at my laziness. I worked my ass off to actually start dating her for real. I never work. So, why in the name of all that is ridiculous would I put out that much effort, and then not mean any of it? Stupid, you see. How somebody can ignore that basic paradox in their illogic is beyond me, but the bar seems to be ever-lowering. To put this in simplistic terms. I say what I feel, and it’s the Truth, as it pertains to me. How you interpret it is your own scene. If that doesn’t clear things up, then you’re obviously an idiot. Oh well. Not my problem.
And now, finally, I will respond to the no response I’ve elicited. Like I said, I know things, and one of my sources is my best friend, Jamaal. Good people, and a mutual acquaintance of myself and Allen (being Allen’s cousin). Anyways, as I have not communicated with Allen since my little rant, I get his reaction from the mutual friend. (Apologies if I bring you into the crossfire here, sir. Not my intentions.) He wasn’t pleased. Shocking. I figured he’d fall down on his knees and repent of his transgressions then and there. Just kidding. His rationalization, as I interpret it from the Jamaal’ed One, is that I’m just bitching to be bitching. Apparently I hate his girlfriend, and I hate them as a couple. His lady-friend, to multiply the ridiculousness, has it in the mind that we all hate her. Dear sweet fuck, I was right. Delusional. Let me take a breath, and start a new paragraph.
Are you out of your damn mind(s)? Come the fuck on. I have never, ever, been anything but accommodating to the both of you. For you to even mull that around as a possibility is absolutely fucking offensive. The fact that you try and spin the issue at hand into that steams me. Do you recall who it was that pushed for you two to start dating? Hmm? Perhaps you’ve forgotten that along the way. It was me. I’m at least partially responsible for the fact that you even have a lady to love. And then you have the audacity to suggest that I hate her. What the hell? Alas, just in case, let me reiterate exactly what pissed me off. You bailed on us, and even though you had a chance to come back and help, you just fucked us off. (Through clenched teeth, because I shouldn’t have ever needed to clarify this in the first place.) No, I don’t hate your girlfriend, none of us do. We have never said a degrading word about her. I don’t hate you as a couple even. Disgusted at your set of priorities and blatant episode of lack of character? Sure, maybe. But, damn it man, you’re my best friend. I think I deserve the benefit of the fucking doubt.
Gah, I look around, and I find those close to me having no balls, and no fucking character. Am I the White Knight? No, but I at least have balls enough to admit my mistakes. Yeah, I probably don’t go about this in the best way. I come out guns blazing because there has to be a new foundation established after somebody has gone and fucked everything up. I’d rather just cut the shit, and get down to Truth. I piss people off with what I say, and I don’t care because, yeah, I’m a prick. But, at the end of the day, at least people know what I think, and they have peace of mind in the knowledge that I’m shooting straight with them. I don’t hide anything, which is more than I can say for some folks. And, in the event that somebody calls me on my shit, I respond. Why? Because that’s what you do. If you believe in something, you defend it. I could potentially talk myself into a corner, but at least I make the attempt. It’s fucking frustrating, trying to comprehend people. Get the fucking message. You’re welcome.
That does it for me. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. I fucking hate it here.
Filed under: my life
That’s right, I said it. It’s been ass the past couple of weeks, mainly coming in the form of significant others, past and no longer probable. Hello world, and welcome back. I will explain my recent disappearance here in a second, but first let me complete my clever introduction paragraph. Alright, now that we have that taken care of, I figure it’s time we dive straight into it.
I used to be pretty consistent at blogging, and for a while, in an alternate/suppressed reality, it was an everyday thing. But, after finally maintaining a sense of stability, my consistency began to fade, and now I only blog every now and then. Recently, I began to read back over my posts from the past couple of months, and I realized something. I hated them. They fucking blew. It wasn’t me, it wasn’t the real me typing. My assessment, after a night of listening to a lot of R&B, follows.
You see, this whole alternate/suppressed reality thing, it’s worn out. It’s stupid. Everything considered, it only annoys me more to consider it fake. By putting it to the back burner, I fail to recognize that it had any influence on my writing. It did, it produced some of my best writing. What I began to realize, subconsciously, is that as I began to become more accepting of the situation, my wit and cynicism began to fade. So, in an effort to continue to out-do myself, I did just that. I wrote for the sole purpose of writing. It wasn’t honest, blatant, or built up stress. It was crap. I was writing to impress myself. Fucking pretentious, isn’t it? I looked back over my last bunch of posts, and I could hardly re-read them without wanting to vomit. There was hardly one that was real. All just a bunch of pointless blathering with a few semi-clever wordplays written in to show everybody how flashy and unique I am. Fuck me, that’s disgusting. My solution was to just quit, for an undetermined amount of time, until something large enough to post about came up. I can’t gauge if these upcoming bits qualify, but at least one has me stressed out, to say the least. Let’s start with, what I perceive, is the less stressful yet most annoying.
I am on the Fort Scott Community College Cheer/Dance team. I, being a male, will now allow my readers a moment to chuckle. There, now fuck you. I’m the mascot, and I have a full ride for my first two years of college, so I will not complain about it at all, aside from the basketball team being complete ass (winners of 1 home game this season). Now, every year people graduate, as people tend to do. So, this means, in an effort to keep numbers up, the Dance team has try-outs for the upcoming season. This does not bother me, I do not associate with the members of the team as I am in a large fucking costume. What does bother me, however, is this.
A long time ago, I once had a girlfriend. In fact, I was so popular that at one point I could have pulled off having two. Since I am not a complete douche, I had to let one go, and a very bitter break-up ensued. Now, two yearsish later, she returns in the form of a semi-engaged dance team member, who has a habit of talking to me for no clear reason, although Jamaal, Allen, and Drew have at least one theory that concerns her buying anime…well, nevermind, I don’t want to go into details as it kind of aggravates me. In essence, they think she wants me back, and I’m becoming more and more convinced of this theory as the days wear on. In any case, the idea of her being on the team, while great for her, annoys me. You see, after our not so clean break, I assumed that I would hear no more of her, hence the idea of the break up. I also realize the irony of me saying this after almost a year of bitching about losing a girlfriend. Irony aside, I just don’t see what I did to bring this on myself. I mean, sure I’ve done some dickish things before, but come on. She can’t even dance. Of course, neither can I, but being in a goofy outfit, normal dancing rules do not pertain to me. At least I have the summer to not think about it. Come football season, I’m sure I’ll be re-visiting this topic, probably very frequently. So, you now have a preview for an upcoming post for my fall lineup. Let’s move on to my second stressful topic.
This one, while not present in the physical sense, continually weighs on my mind. A week from today, May 9th, is the day, two years ago, that I asked out my most recently exed girlfriend. It seems a tad obsessive, I realize, but for some reason this date remains steadfastly in my memory. As it draws nearer, I have began to fall again to thinking of her more frequently. I wonder if she remembers the date, and then I laugh as I realize how foolish I am. I wonder if she ever thinks of what could have been, and then I laugh as I realize how foolish I am. In all reality, it annoys me that even after all this time, I still think of her in that light. Hmph. I assume this is just an isolated phenomena, and all will pass in good time. Fuck it, let’s go bowling. Actually, let’s move on to the third, and most stressing matter at hand.
Let me take you back to a handful of posts ago. You may recall that I had my sights set on a potential girl for my glorious comeback to gloriousness. You may also recall that she is taken, and that her current fuck of a boyfriend is not keen on parting with her, nor is he happy that I exist. Finally, you may recall that you probably do not care, and currently pissed that I have brought up this and my previous subject. I do not care, pleasing you is no longer my objective.
For a while, I pushed, went on the offensive, not pulling any punches. Droves of correctly-based points and disgusting poems later, I figured I was pushing too far, and reserved to stay where I consistently find myself these days, the Friend Zone. I sniped every now and then, and I listened to her when her fuck of a boyfriend was being a fuck of a boyfriend. Every time, I offered her a way out, and every time I was, again, although politely, denied. So, I re-hashed my approach, offering instead just an evening at dinner with our family, just as friends. Now, I cannot truthfully say that I did not have an alternate agenda, my idea being that after a night with our family, she would see how fucked up her situation was, and that she did indeed have people that genuinely cared about her. In any case, it was what it was. Then this weekend, I saw a grand opportunity. You see, I went, as a sponsor to the State Forensics Tournament. My brother qualified, and I was doing a Pre-Lab for my Ed. class. As she also qualified, it would mean two days of fuck-of-a-boyfriendless time to work my non-magic. In other words, I did jack and shit different than I normally do. This proved much more difficult than I expected, especially when we were all down at the hotel pool. No, she was not in a strikingly hot bathing suit, nor was she swimming. We sat, feet in the hot tub, and just chilled. Granted, she looked very cute in what she had on, but it was more about just the chit chatting part. I haven’t had that in a long time, and I suppose it was nice talking, in person, freely to somebody/something other than this blog. I took a few pot shots here and there, but, for the most part I remained reserved. Then, on Saturday, she sat alone, whilst everybody else was off doing their events. So, I sat down, and invited her to dinner. At first, as per usual, she was hesitant, and declined. Then, after a little persuasion, she began to inquire on specifics. This was it, all that time finally paying off. Even for just an evening, she was at least going somewhere where there were no douchebags. (I realize fully how douchey I sound posting this. Blow me.) I had the upper hand in the argument. Then, like a dumbass, I started asking other people’s opinions on the idea. Of course, the more people that agreed with me, the more it became about ramming home my point rather than actually getting her to come over. One girl in particular, who I’m no large fan of anyways, decided to call her friend and ask her opinion. Please note here that, in hindsight, I should have stopped that. I do not condone it, and I didn’t there. But, no, I was cocky and short-sighted. Everybody, except one detractor, who I believe was smart enough to mainly stay out of it, agreed with me. I felt like there was no way I could lose. Stupid. I, feeling like a complete genius, sat back and viewed all that I had created. And I saw that it was…terrible. I fucked it all up. She left the table, in tears, because word had gotten back to the fuck of a boyfriend of what was going on. Obviously there was to be no dinner at my house now. How in the world wide fuck did I go from almost a sure thing to never in the history of ever so quickly? Afterwards, on the way home, we stopped at a gas station. I was the first back in the suburban, except for her, who never left. She was in there, crying. Crying because of my dumbassedness, and the fact that her fuck of a boyfriend bitched her out for defending ‘him’, but not ‘them as a couple’. (Splitting hairs, right? This, among other reasons, is why he is a fuck of a boyfriend.) She told me they were on the verge of breaking up. In any other scenario, I would have pissed my pants in anticipation, but instead I just felt like shit. If you know me, then you probably know that I do not know how to console girls who are crying, especially when I myself am part of the cause. So, the best I could do was offer her some of my Japaleno Popper Dorritos, of which she took three. I went home, slept, woke up still feeling miserable about the whole ordeal, and am now blogging about it. This is not exactly how I envisioned this weekend ending a day and a half ago. But, this is what I’ve dealt myself. I had all four aces, and I threw them away for muck, because I was too damn stupid to know when to just ease off the fucking gas. Now, she graduates in a couple days, and I am left, again, in the Friend Zone, presumably for good. I feel absolutely terrible about the whole thing, but I highly doubt she will ever read this, and I’m no good at in-person apologies. Fuck. I’m actually re-hashing this post because, even a couple hours after blogging, I feel that I can’t explain how angry at myself I am. If you read this, sorry for being such a dick. I suppose that’s really more of a blanket apology for offenses past, present, and probably future. Also, if this is the fuck of a boyfriend reading this, let me say this. Hello, fuck you. That is all.
Seems like a really bad habit of mine, doesn’t it? Not knowing what you have until it’s all fucked up. I had a chance, and I blew it. People’s emotions and relationships, whenever I become involved, become merely a game for me. I don’t intend for it to happen. I really, really do like her, and I would love nothing more than for us to be dating, but as soon as I sense an argument, I can’t help myself. I’m out for blood, and her crying and my feeling terrible is a byproduct of my own inability to curb my insistence of ‘winning’ the argument. Maybe one day I will be able to convince her that I really do care about her without making her cry, but probably not. I can’t even manage that small degree of smoothness. And this, ladies and gentlemen, is why I remain, for the foreseeable future, in the Friend Zone.
I suppose there is something to be said for being single, but I don’t know what it is, nor would I agree with it if it happened to be positive. It’s pretty fucking frustrating, all things considered. Indeed, I caused some of it, but there are some things that just seem beyond my control. So, in reference to my title, fuck you, karma. I now anticipate the backlash I receive for saying that. I’m sure whatever you have in store really can’t be any worse than what’s already happened because of the combination of you and me.
Holy shit balls, this is, I believe, my first 2000 word post that doesn’t include a poem. I have to say that I am very, very proud of myself. Not in a sense of length, but in a sense that I actually did all of that, and it was all real. I didn’t try and glamor it up or make it better than what it was. That’s really nice, and it proves my point. Misery, whatever the cause, produces awesome writing. Well, I figure I should quit while I’m ahead.
That about does it for me. Until next time America. Take it easy, and peace.
The Dude
P.S. To whom it may concern, sorry. Also, I still love me. (Did you really think I would NOT put that?)
Filed under: my life | Tags: america, cody, extreme, idiot, love, stupid, the dude, tinsley, write
People of earth, how ya doin’? What is going on up in this bitchin’ blog? Raise the roof and lower your firewall, I am fucking here to party it up with a blog post! NOW THAT’S FUCKIN’ EXTREME! Welcome back to the ever-occurring and always annoying enigma that is my life and existence. Alright, so it isn’t always annoying, but who wants to read about happy fun times? I don’t, and this is a rather large contributor to the normally bleak and angry outlook of my posts. That and the fact that I have been dealing with the issues of my pathetic depression. In any case, I have returned from the grave of non-writing to shock and awe all of you with the ever lowering bar which symbolizes my faith in humanity, other than myself, and a few others close to me.
Don’t you just hate those douche bags? Always looking for something extreme, so they go jump of a cliff. Does this register as fucking retarded to anybody else? Not the whole idea of jumping off of a cliff, but how loud-mouthed and pushy these fucks are. We get it, you enjoy near death experiences, DC shoes, and Monster energy drinks. Do me a favor and piss off. I like basically the same things. I mean, almost dying in Halo, DC comics, and the Stay-Puft Marshmallow Monster are basically the same things, but you don’t see me yelling about how EXTREME I’ve taken it. Come down off your caffeine high and use your head for a fucking change. Go out a get a job, like I haven’t done. Geeze, bunch of fucking bums you ask me.
In other news, in the highly likely event of your not knowing, and the even higher chance of you not caring, I have had an ongoing somewhat feud with my counter-part and puppet master. I say somewhat because he admitted defeat, albeit sarcastically, and because I owned his ass from the starting gun. Be that as it may, I think that the tension between us has, for the most part, subsided. All that really needed to happen was for us to tell each other to fuck off, except by doing it via masking that with a bunch of opinions on love. Granted, that is what the dysfunction was over, but in the end all that needed to be said was. In hindsight, I enjoyed every damn bit of it, and would not have done things any other way. However, I see the argument as over, and am glad that it is. It is much more difficult to argue with somebody who argues back, as opposed to all of the rest of you silent readers, merely smirking while you read. You tell yourself how ridiculous I am, yet make no attempts to counter me. I condemn you all to a life sentence of learning. Congratulations, you’re here.
Now, on to the real reason for my post, as the first 475 words were merely filler. I know, you were probably about to tear your eyes out from the shining glory of my words, but it somehow gets better. As I stated in my title, people are fucking stupid. I have also said many, many times before that I hate people, and this example here gives me yet another reason to do just that. I am sorry, but I refuse to just let things like this go unsaid and unbitched about. It pisses me off to know that people I consider my friends act and think so foolishly, so I feel it my duty to let everybody know what ignorant fucks people of this nature are.
We live is a country that is based upon freedom of…well damn near anything within reason. That is, of course, as long as you conform to our society. As ridiculous as that sounds, it is the way many people think, perhaps subconsciously, today. I was sitting in class today when the teacher asked how many people thought that only English should be spoken in the States. I was astounded at the number of hands. I just do not comprehend such…fucking idiots. Where does such ignorance stem from? For a moment I forgot we were in southeast Kansas. As soon as I remembered that detail, it all made sense, regionally speaking. It’s not like when we came here, the Indians made us learn their language. Quite the contrary, we fucked them up the ass and stole their land, THEN made them learn our language. It pisses me off to know that we can be so…intolerant to the point of racist, for no apparent reason other than just to have something to hate. If you really need to hate something, put it to good use. For fuck’s sake, why not hate racism? Why not hate world hunger? No. Instead, we hate Mexicans because they work. We hate blacks because they wanted equal rights. We hate Middle Easterners because they have oil as a resource. We hate Muslims because they aren’t Christian. And we hate the French because they are cocky, which, according to the job description, is to be our task exclusively. To all of you pricks who think we should only speak one language, do me a favor. Suck the entity that is my left testicle, and slightly caress the right. Why don’t you please the rest of us and all gather on an island, form a utopia, and drink cyanide Flavor-Aid. It’s an AMERICAN product, so you’ll like that. That is the kind of sense you make to me, cultish. You’re welcome.
Ah, I enjoyed that. I hate people, very much. Anyways, in closing, I have recently wrote a little work of my own outside of the blog. It isn’t good, nor is it available for reading. I have left it on my desktop as a personal reminder to me about how idiotic it is to leave something unsaid, which is why I post as outwardly as I do. Somebody smart once told me of how compelled they are to express their utmost feelings, because you never know when you’ll lose the chance. Shame I learned that shit too late. Oh well. Life sucks, wear a hat.
That does it for me. It is past midnight and I’ve got class tomorrow at 9. Shit a brick, I’m going to be drowsy. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Filed under: my life | Tags: blog, cody tinsley, dude, love, me, poem, puppet
*Note: All views and opinions expressed here previously and in the future are actually the ideas of somebody else controlling me and making me dance. I am just typing what I am told, for the master must be entertained, and I must obey the master like a good dancing monkey.
Excuse me, what? Sorry readers, I must have blacked out for a while there. I had a bad dream that all this was me just trying to impress somebody, rather than to…write. Anyways, welcome back. How are you? Shh, I care not about your feelings or experiences, for I wish to only speak of me, myself, and my out of control sarcastic ego. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! But let us cut the crap, and get down to the real nitty-gritty. In all of my previous posts I have been too busy trying to impress and please somebody (by contradicting them, although to me that seems rather paradoxical) that I have forgot to update you faithful readers on the most important subject, me. So, instead of trying to show off my arguing prowess, I think I will give you the low down on what has been going on. If I could just break away from my need to show off.
I recently acquired a laptop, or perhaps a cheap imitation of said device. Don’t think me ungrateful, because I enjoy having Internet to myself in my room. However, this…contraption looks like it was made in the early 1900s and been given periodic updates. Which leads me to my next point. I’m 99% sure that the software is bootlegged. Again, not ungrateful, but it just shows the age of it. That and the fact that it needs an ethernet card to hook up to a wired connection. Lucky for me I have an awesome router and adapter. I just say that my computer is made for function, not fashion. Not at all fashion. I’m sure Wilma Flintstone enjoyed hers as much as I am enjoying mine. Oh, well, it was free, and it gets me online. I’m not going to bitch too damn much. Moving right along.
I’m now a college student. I’m your typical college guy douche bag, sans the douche bag part. I’m studying to become a high school history teacher. I received a full ride scholarship to Fort Scott Community College. Believe it or not, it was a Dance/Cheer scholarship. Let me finish, I’m the mascot. So, all I have to do is dance around (like the good monkey I am, only as a greyhound) for a couple of games, and I go to school for free in return. Not too shabby of a deal, and it beat the alternative. That happened to be paying about half out of pocket. Thanks, I’ll don the costume and prance around instead.
As for my life after love, it continues, as it has for about 2.5 months. Each day it seems to get a little easier to cope, yet each night I pray that somehow we could be together again. As the chances of that seem incredibly bleak, I’ll just stick to writing about it. Quite a bitch of a cycle, and surprisingly unproductive in making people feel better. I suppose I am kind of browsing the campus to scout out any potentials, but for the most part I have been quite disappointed. Obviously it doesn’t help that I talk to nobody, but that is besides the point, because I say it is. Anyway, eventually something will fall into my lap, one way or the other. Always does.
Only 650 words so far? Oh no, I am skimping a bit. I suppose I could post that poem, but it really is in need of some work. Incredibly simple and trite, but I actually mean every word of it. Oh well, I suppose I’ll give to you raw and unhindered by conscious editing. Here you go, and I warn those with lactose intolerance of the high amount of cheese. Not intentional, but some may take it this way…
People confuse me, I can’t understand.
They claim to love, but I only see pretend.
I’m inept to connect, to reopen.
My heart, it reels, forever broken.
Love, no longer do I comprehend.
My bridge of love, too burned to mend.
It feels like browsing through some fable.
And finding the end? I wander, unable.
So, in my shame, I try and write,
About my cause, my usless fight.
Every day my heart screams.
And every night my mind it dreams.
And the days roll on, like some drum beat.
The cycle I’ve come to know, I’ll forever repeat.
The reason is simple, I’ve never let go.
Yet the tears I hide, and no pain I’ll show.
Because people enjoy seeing hurt,
Somebody down or a tear-stained shirt.
And I realize now, as my stomach churns.
My mind, it fades, and my heart yearns.
That we as a couple were not to be.
I with you, and you with me.
And though my heart longs to fill with hate.
I refuse to allow it. I’ll always love you…
Kait
Ugh, as much as I despise that stupid fucking emotion and think it useless, I can’t deny that it remains, and I also can’t deny that I would like nothing more than to tell her so in person and everything fall into place so that I could be happy once more with her. Oh well, the past is the past and the present is always bigger on Christmas, except when you get socks. Then you have good reason to be pissed, unless you were previously barefooted.
Hm, an unusually odd post, in comparison to my norm of ranting. I imagine my readers will find this refreshingly boring, if you can somehow attain such a status. Also, I hearby proclaim me a monkey servant to the awesome mind of my master…Wait, sorry, that was the puppet strings being pulled. What I meant to say was FUCK YOU, I say what I say, and I’m not out to gain prestige or approval from anybody. If I were, then I don’t think I would be doing too well in the eyes of the church, or the religion in general. Of course, I was just typing that to impress you anyway, so I can’t really count that as me being my true self in my writing. Apparently none of what I write is truly me, because I’m always out to impress people. If anybody has any problems with my blog, please, I want to refer you to ALLEN’S BLOG OF DOOM!….He made me do it. I strive to gain his approval. Do you like me yet? Is this post good? HAHAHAHA!
That does it for me. Until next time America, enjoy my sub-par poetry. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Filed under: my life | Tags: bull, christian, cody, dude, god, idiot, love, me, ridiculous, stupid, tinsley
Odd concept, this inconvenient thing we call static. It can lead to so many fuck ups. A misinterpreted message in the battle field because of it and your chance of death sky-rockets higher than a guy with an intelligent thought near Rush Limbaugh. (He hates smart people, envy I think.) Static, not taken literally, also can cause many problems in a relationship. Two people not connecting, some unknown interference keeping them from a life together. Static, it’s a bitch. Readers, welcome back to my lair. Hasn’t changed much, which is probably due to the fact that I haven’t blogged. Also, I’m not too big a fan of change. Well, I suppose I should get on with this. I know you started to get a hard on once you saw I had a new post. Heck, even I got a little chubby writing this, but not really. Welp, here you go. Enjoy, I don’t know when the next one is written anymore.
As I was saying, my problem, if you wish to call it that. I am indifferent, personally. I feel myself starting to slip away from…everything. Nothing really holds significance with me anymore. Days are just a way to lead in to the night, and vice versa. People, as before, are still fucking annoying. But, even the ones I actually enjoy seem to be fading into the distance. Obviously, they themselves are still there. It is my connection to them that is apparently diminishing. I can’t seem to relate to damn near anything or anybody at all. Everything is just so…not important. It’s like, yeah, all this stuff is happening, but who cares anymore? There is something, some kind of block keeping me from connecting with reality and from keeping me in tune with the world around me. Static, if you will. It supports my theory. Life is a joke. Love is a joke. Reality? It is something called isolation. Everybody fights it, but nobody wins. Deep down somewhere, whether you admit it or not, a part of you feels alone.
It’s affecting my writing too. I’ve noticed it. I have attempted plenty of posts before this one, but they were all shit, same as this one will be. This angers me, because writing is one of the only things that helped me stay somewhat in touch with the people I care for. I also had a solid ideal for a poem, but I couldn’t seem to get it down without fucking it up terribly. I get frustrated when my mind thinks more complicated than my ability allows me to write. Believe it or not, when it comes to the few things I care about, I am a perfectionist. Grammar and conventions, I really hate it when people make mistakes in that category. Call me OCD, I call you illiterate. Either way, you’re an idiot. Point is, I am extremely annoyed when I can’t express my feelings through my writing. At this particular point, I am currently tearing out my hair while having a midget do the same to my short and curly’s south of the border. I’m quite lazy.
Why can’t I write anymore? Before, it came quite easily. I was angry, upset, sad, depressed, and feeling a tad bit cheated to be quite honest. Now, I don’t know what to feel. I mean, love is pointless, heartbreak fucking blows, happiness is momentary, and anger only causes hypertension. I am completely cut off from all of my emotions, and that is my static. People, generally speaking, are emotional. When you fake just about every single one, you tend not to connect too well. I see people in love today and I think, “Naivety is so dangerous, just wait and see.” I look at the heartbroken and say, “Told ya so, just one sentence ago, didn’t I?” I see angry people and I think, “What is the point? Chances are there will be something bigger to get even more pissed about later on, so why waste your breath now?” I see all the happy people and I think, “You’re all headed for a downfall, that is the way these things work.” But, I carry on, a laugh here, a tear there, in order to fulfill my quota of emotions for the week, lest people call me insensitive. And that is why my writing has become so infrequent. My lack of fire, of intensity, of emotion. Granted, I still retain my very correct opinions, but in all fairness, the people that disagree with me are dumb fucks. They refuse to listen, so what is the point of yelling, or virtually doing so? Oh yes, I remember, because not many other people I know have the balls to speak out against the ignorance of the idiots that roam our country. Take, for example, my next education segment. Come on, you didn’t think I was THAT detached, did you?
I personally believe I am going to catch a bunch of flak for this, mainly because it kind of goes against my whole religion thing I have going on. Oh, well, I do not answer to the bitching of people. So, if it offends You, I ask Your forgiveness in advance God. Also, if it offends anybody else, I don’t capitalize your pronouns in the midst of sentences, so fucking blow me. Here we go, enjoy my words, because they are truthful, which is a rare commodity these days.
Alright, I was in church the other day, and they were discussing their mission trip to Wisconsin, I believe. I’m down with that, no problems there. They started talking about all the good they did by helping fix the buildings and cleaning up all that stuff. Cool beans, good work, gold stars for you guys, and no sarcasm intended. Really, it is quite important to spread the Word. Then they mentioned some girl was saved, and this made me happy as well. For those of you unfamiliar with the Christian faith, ‘saved’ is when you are no longer considered an idiot to those following the same faith as you. Now, I was all good until they started talking about how this girl came to know Christ. Apparently she had a really shitty past, and during the message where everybody started sharing, she got all emotional, as I mentioned people do occasionally. This is when, as they were helping her out, they threw in that whole…So, do you know about Jesus Christ? Hold it right fucking there. To me, it seems like they just took advantage of an emotionally unstable moment to plug Almighty God. When I accepted Christ, although I was only five, I knew what I was doing. I was also clear-headed and able to think for myself, at least when it came to the eternal being of my soul. (I know, it sounds a bit rash, but fuck you all anyhow.) To just sneak something in there that big when somebody is so distraught just seems….tacky. My thinking is that God doesn’t really need a plug when it is opportune. He needs a plug when people are talking, clear minded, and able to argue against Him. People need time to debate, people need to argue. It is the only way anybody can ever really see that their stance is not right. That way, when they see they are wrong, it will be their own decision as well as the work of God and His children, not somebody pulling all this cloak and dagger bullshit. I know how anti-religion it sounds, but don’t get the wrong picture. I’m glad she accepted God, but I fear it happened in the wrong way. When somebody is emotionally hurt, the last thing they need is a religion plug. They need someone to talk to and understand, not pretend to understand and then toss in a Savior, a Happy Meal, and a reach-around. I think it is wrong, and I wait for anybody to prove me otherwise. Still waiting. Exactly. You’re welcome.
Not too shabby for a shitty post. I’m sure I will eventually get that poem posted, but right now it needs some hardcore editing. This has helped muchos is clearing my head, which is good for you all because that is the first step to even more posts. I do believe I am done for this evening. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Filed under: my life | Tags: dude, girlfriend, glenn beck, love, me, politics, stupid
Hmm, interesting thought, don’t you agree? You know, I would almost take that seriously, if the author wasn’t a complete fucking idiot himself. Oh yes, I just said that. Nirvana fans can suck my Pearl Jam loving cock and swallow my Stone Temple Pilots semen. You know my stance on giving credit to idiots, and suicide falls in the idiot move category, as I have posted before. (Go read that over again. I just did, and I laughed my ass off.) Hello readers, in case you haven’t heard of any of the three bands previously mentioned, go illegally download them now. They are worth the risk, really. Welcome back. After my last post, I am not really sure where to go. After doing a little Q&A session/education, it is hard to go back to just blogging outright. Well, I will do my best, which is still pretty fucking good.
What else can I say anymore? Everybody that reads this just expects me to bitch and moan and complain about my relationship status. To be honest, that is what I expect. Problem is, I am all said out. It’s all the same nowadays. I asked her out, she said yes. I spent the next thirteen months doing my damndest to make sure everything went smoothly, and for the most part I feel that it did. I fell in love. I was stupid, in that I thought love was forever, or at least true love anyways, and I felt that perhaps I had the latter. I figured since I loved her enough, everything would work out willy-nilly. I was in bliss. It ended, and now I am fucking miserable. I don’t see how I could have done anything different to change the outcome, and that pisses me off even more. Obviously nothing I write is going to change her mind. And even though I have known this from the beginning, I have to say I did my damndest to speak my mind. A shit ton of good that did me. All I have to show for it is a bunch of fucking assholes know all my shit now. Great. That really fucking blows, because I will now become known and revered as that schmuck who only writes his sappy fucking memoirs and give his extremely slanted opinion with a personality type that can only be deemed as fucking crazy……Oh shit, I’ve become Glenn Beck. And that leads me to my ranting. Pretty fucking nifty, wasn’t it? Ah, my circular writings, they do wonders for the quality of the post. How awesome is it that I am able to lead my misery into a rant about a fucking asshole like that? I love myself, and you love me too.
What in the name of the virgin Mary’s tits gave people the fucked up idea that a guy like him should have such a large following? He is the biggest douche bag in the history of ever. He doesn’t even make coherent thoughts anymore, not that he ever did in the first place. I fucking hate that people give this guy such a hardcore fan base. His ideas shouldn’t even be considered credible, let alone broadcast on television. I am a close-minded guy, but fuck me, at least I have a bit of a clue as to what I am saying. It’s so bad, I would give just about anybody in the Fox News industry more credit than him. Fuck, he even makes Rush Limbaugh…wait, nevermind. Now, I’m not saying that every Conservative is idiotic, just the ones that think this guy makes sense. Please, for the sake of every mind in the American public, somebody do the world a favor and pull the plug on this one. Of course, that would mean less material for Colbert and Jon Stewart, but I think it is a tradeoff I am willing to make. To all of the followers of this moron, fuck you. You are a bigger idiot than he is for buying into his shit, and that is saying something. Do yourself a favor, read my blog and educate yourself. I regret to inform you that me with my no study of political science knows more about politics than that stupid fuck, and that is sad. You’re welcome.
Ahh, it feels good to put people who don’t read this in their place. Somehow, it gives me a sense of belonging. Perhaps this is what I was born to do, bitch. How great would that be if I could get paid to write a column just fucking complaining on things? Fuck, I would use my blog for as many writings as I had posts. I mean, look at it. Who complains more than I do? Wow, what a glorious idea that. Sadly, I don’t think any paper or magazine would publish my ideas as is, and I really am not willing to go back and edit out all of the supposed bad language because of the stupid fucks who can’t stand the sight of such dirty words. Ironically, those are the people that should hear these things the most. And the stupid keep getting stupider. Oh well, moving on.
Perhaps it’s just because I am bitter, but I have really had an increase in hatred of people recently. Fucking everything and everybody I see happy, I just want to fuck it up. No reason, other than to see some fucked up shit. Anybody that comes around, I just feel like telling them to piss off. I hate people. I hate seeing happiness, it disgusts me. These two things, people and happiness, they are of no use to me. Of course, I have my exceptions, but even that seems to be dwindling. Doesn’t help when you lose the one you held in highest regard, the one thing that made you truly happy. Ugh, there I go again with my fucking pity. I make myself sick. Stop it please, for the sake of my brain and everybody else’s eyes. Either way, I just wish people would go away for about a weekish. Nobody fucking bothering me, nobody annoying me, nobody fucking up my perfect world that no longer exists. I suppose this feeling will pass, given that I have nobody or nothing in particular to be angry about. Perhaps if I could target something specific, I could really give it a big blast and be done with it. Until then, I will probably come of as edgy and a bit pissed off, more than likely because I am. So, to the people planning to call me a prick, blow me. I probably fucking hate you anyways, so my prickishness would be genuine towards you, not just a mood. You’re welcome, and thanks for the blowjob in advance. I’m looking forward to it.
That just about does it for me. Bit of a here and there post. Just meandered my way into and out of things. Oh well, least I made it long enough for my standards. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I will always love you.
Filed under: my life | Tags: america, awesome, challenge, dude, ex, great, love, me, shit
God created me, and He saw that I was great, which is better than good, according to my set of weights and measures. As I am great and man is only good, I now realize why you all adore me. That, and the fact that my highly potent testosterone glands makes every chick within a half mile radius wetter than a water slide in April. Hello, welcome back, and you’re welcome in advance. This post shall be a response to an argument left by a highly revered scholar. Do you see what happens when you actually respond to my awesome readings? I write a whole post in your honor. I know, I really am such a gentleman. Now, allow me to show you all an equally awesome rebuttle, which is a funny word.
Let me first state that I in no way discredit the fact that you are in love. You don’t make much of an effort to hide it, and in all fairness you have no reason to do otherwise. Also, let me say that, as I consider you family, I wish nothing but the utmost happiness in your relationship. That being said, it’s on bitch.
You’re happy? Good, great even. Maybe not great, that classification is reserved for me level things only. Why are you happy? You have a reason to live now? Awesome, enjoy that. You deserve every bit of happiness you get, you worked hard and earned it.
Now, it’s gone. Every bit of it, no more. Your reason to live, gone. Your happiness, gone. All of that work, what for? It was fun times, but what do you have to show for it now? Dick, other than memories. Memories really don’t make things easier after you’ve lost the one you love. Do you see? Just because you had a great time with her doesn’t necessarily mean that the happiness still resides after she’s gone. Good experiences during a relationship do not transfer to comfort and acceptance after a break up. You’re wrong. Life is just a big process. Work, but not really, talking, and jerking off. That is it. You have your moments of happiness, no disputing that, but in the big picture they really mean next to nothing, if that. Bleak outlook? Sure, but at least not as much can fuck you over.
Did I think love was pointless when I was dating her? Nope, sure didn’t. I was stupid, even though in the back of my mind I knew it would eventually backfire. I thought if perhaps I just loved her enough everything would work out in the end. Do you know what happened? Of course you do, no need to insult your intelligence. Did I think love was cruel? You bet your ass I did. Do you not think that maybe I had learned a little bit about the way love works by observing the ones around me? Look at the ex ex, it tore her up. Look at my parents, it tore a whole family up. Love isn’t cruel? You’re bullshitting yourself man.
Do I still love her like I did when we were dating? Of course, but that doesn’t mean it translates into anything. Yay, I feel something. Honestly, I would rather feel nothing at all than feel as miserable as I have. It is better to have loved and lost than to have never loved at all, right? Bullshit, fuck you, and piss on your grave. That is a fucking lie. You say love is the strongest emotion? I beg to differ. Lost love is the strongest emotion, hands down. And I would much rather have experienced neither than to have experienced both.
Oh, before I forget, please don’t apologize for telling me I was dealt a shitty hand. It’s a legitimate argument and needs no saying sorry. It’s cool, not a big deal. No offense taken. However, let me point out that I stated at least one other scenario above, just saying. Granted, it was directly related to me, but I say it still counts. Anyways, moving on with this lesson.
Am I blaming love for making me happy? Yes, yes I am. Happiness is overrated, and momentary at best. Yeah, thirteen months is a hell of a moment, but compared to the average life span? Meh. I am pretty confident that if I hadn’t been dating her those thirteen months, it would have been significantly worse, but I think I would have made it. Now I feel like I don’t see how to make it without her. Is that cliche? Oh well, it is what it is. If it hadn’t been for that stupid fucking emotion, I wouldn’t have had anything to be happy about, and that would have been just fucking great. Do you know why? Because I wouldn’t have had any reason to fall on my fucking face harder than anytime before. If I hadn’t fallen in love, then the break up would have meant absolutely nothing. It would have just been a matter of finding another chick. But no, instead I get all hung up on my emotions and dwelling on my previous happiness and wondering what in the hell happened for me to lose somebody so awesome. Why? Because I fucking love her. No love, no hurt. It really is that simple.
Did loving somebody change me? Yes. I won’t disagree with you. Ok, now what is the point in me changing? I didn’t associate with anybody different after the change, and I could hazard a guess and say most people still enjoyed my awesomeness before. Was I a bit more horny before? Sure as shit, but you and I both know I wouldn’t have done anything stupid, same as I know you wouldn’t have. Who cares if I changed at all? Doesn’t mean dick now. Yipee for me, I’m a better person. La dee da. Who cares? What do I need to be a better person for? Who the hell do I have to impress? Nobody then, nobody now. Love also made me angry, sad, depressed, and bitter, although the latter for which I am grateful. What it didn’t change, however, was the end result.
Like I said before, you can love somebody with every fiber of your being, with every fucking thing you have. Doesn’t matter in the end. What happens, happens. Odds are you’re going to be on the shitty side of the end, so what is the point of even loving to begin with? There is no point, unless of course you enjoy heartbreak. Then I would strongly reccommend it.
Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I would now like to present my closing arguments. As I have said many times before, love is bullshit. It is a hell of a ride when you’re in it, but the admission price is way too fucking steep. Take it from a fella who has been on every side of the whole ordeal, me. I have seen it from every angle. The heart breaker, the silent observer, the guy deeply in love, and the one on the receiving end of heartbreak who now blogs about it repeatedly, awesomely, and more than likely annoyingly. Either way, I have a pretty decent resume. So, to all of you contemplating the idea of love, perk your ears up now. Fuck it, go bowling instead. It is better to go crush some pins with a ball than to feel like your balls have been crushed. You’re welcome.
How about that? Pretty fucking good, ahem, great I mean. I really do encourage anybody else to challenge me. Gives me something to write about, and I know you all love my writing so much. Welp, that just about does it for me on this evening. Like I said before, I wish you nothing but the utmost of joy in your relationship. You are like a brother to me, and I don’t want to see anything shitty happen, I swear to me. I am sure you will enjoy reading this, but not quite as much as I enjoyed writing this, for it was glorious.
As I said, that does it for me. Again, I issue an open invitation for a challenge. Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you.
Well, not exactly dynamite, but we shall get to that later on in the post. Readers, how are you fairing without my writings to guide you? I find it hard to believe the world has kept it’s mask of sanity on since I have been gone for a bit. Well, not much has changed, and I will write about it. You will read it, you will love it, and you will adore me, because I am great. Actually, I do have a topic I wish to bitch about, but again, later on. For now I will stick to the poor, pitiful subject that is my own life.
Oh yes, I said pitiful. Believe it or not, there is a reason. The same annoying, stupid fucking reason, but a reason all the same. It’s like, what the hell? I have tried giving it all to God, but He just keeps giving it right back. Understandable, I wouldn’t want to deal with my shit either. It’s just frustrating. Everybody I know just wants to see me get over it, her, and the whole situation. It’s a sound stance to take, as I realize that me acting this way is no fun for any party involved. However, it just doesn’t work like that. My mind refuses to let her go, my heart refuses to stop loving her, and I refuse to admit that we will never get back together. I want her back more than fucking anything, even Rock Band 2 songs. FUCK! Deep down I know that we shouldn’t have split up, regardless of any points she made, all of which I thought I agreed with in the beginning. I will, however, remain silent regarding any of that when talking to her. It is not what she wishes, and I shall respect that.
I remember one conversation we had, one that I look back and view now as a definite red flag, and a major missed opportunity on my part. She asked me flat out if I had ever considered going overseas to witness as a missionary. I, without thinking, simply said no. Dumbass. It was just my normal, lazy, not giving two-shits response. And that was my folly. Had I thought it through, my honest answer would have been a tad different, and a bit more lengthy. What I really think is that I would willingly go anywhere on this shitty planet if it meant being with her. Even it meant getting off of my couch, with which I have been having a secret relationship as of late. Cheesy? Blow me, it’s how I feel. But, I am the idiot who says things too late. And now I sit here kicking myself whilist typing, an amazing feat in itself, starting to realize how I lost the girl I fell hardest for.
Ugh, glad that is over. Enough of my sulking, let us move on to something awesome, besides me. My ranting is upon us, as is greatness. The subject, you ask? Can you keep a secret? Good, now I won’t have to tell everybody about that affair you had on your girlfriend, or that you once decided to jerk off at your grandparents’ house. Whoa, His Dudeness knows some things about his readers. Oh yes. Now, while all of you ponder just who the sick fucking bastards in my fan base are, I will give you a little bit of education. Summer school, only sans the bullshit. Ready?
You see this more and more today. Teenage suicide. Who are these jokers? Do you know my feelings when I hear about these fuckin’ assholes? I giggle. Then I burst into laughter. Did you get the attention you wanted? How did that pan out for you? Why don’t you get up and accept your award? Oh that’s right, you can’t. All of that attention and pity you so desperately sought, you can’t even relish it, because you’re an idiot. HA HA! Joke is on you, dillweed.
Sure, immedietly there is a large gathering. Give it a week, tops, and hardly anybody gives a shit. Yeah, they will pretend to. But, deep inside, they think you are as big of a fuck up as you were when you were alive, and probably more so. The only people I have an ounce of feeling for is the parents. I mean, all of a sudden realizing that their kid is a top-tier douche bag, that is going to sting a bit, not to mention funeral costs.
It just pisses me off that people would just refuse to live any longer. Life is a gift, and their isn’t a fucking return policy just because you don’t like it at the moment. Yeah, I bitch and moan and complain about life, but I enjoy doing so. I’m not going to go off myself just because I may feel a wee bit down. It gives me something to look forward to. Eventually, it will get better, and I will rule the world. Just have to keep truckin’.
Let’s be fair, though. We have all thought about it, and you’re a liar if you say otherwise. Not seriously, perhaps, but the thought has crossed your mind. How the fuck could I pull that off? What method would I use? George Carlin did a gloriously hilarious bit about this whole idea, go look it up. Ah ah, after you finish reading. No, after. I’m going to get out the belt. Good, you may continue.
What separates us from the fucktards in the world is that we have the balls to keep living. We don’t bail out because Mommy and Daddy didn’t hug us enough, or we can’t make friends, or we just can’t go on. Newsflash. You can’t make friends because all you talk about is how shitty your life is. Look at me, that’s all I do, and I haven’t made a friend in who knows how long. That being said, I do not wish to make any more friends, so I have succeeded.
Let me give you an actual example of how I react to this type of thing. I will probably lose some people’s respect here, but that just means you give people too much credit, which makes you an idiot.
Alright, the scene is about two-ish years ago. I am with my ex ex girlfriend, the fuckin’ nutso one. Not so much at this time, but this is one of the beginnings. Anyways, her friend had just been found in the woods. My first comment was that she had probably just wiped with poison ivy and had an allergic reaction. I was then told that she had shot herself with a shotgun. Impressive, seeing as that is a long fucking gun. How do you manage to pull the trigger and maintain the gun upright? Either way, she had went ker-put. Apparently she had been caught stealing a DVD, and didn’t want to face the punishment of her parents. She instead chose the clearly obvious alternative, suicide. Of course the ex ex was devastated, all bawling and what not. I couldn’t see the point in it all, but like a good boyfriend, The Dude was there. Now, after letting her talk about her damned feelings, I figured my part was done, seeing as I had no prior connections with this chick. Suprised as shit was I when asked to go to the visitation. Even though I protested, I ended up going. I didn’t know this chick, had no respect for her, and now I am in the car headed to meet all these other people I don’t know, and do not like. I even had to pretend to show sympathy! Do not think me whipped, however, for I took my shots. I stepped out of the car next to the funeral home, and my first comment was, “This isn’t the IHOP.” I received a warm welcome. However, my interest was heightened when I learned something truly shocking.
Before we go on, re-read that last paragraph. Remember how this chick died, and then continue. You will understand why I was so shocked, hopefully.
OPEN CASKET! I could hardly believe my luck, humorly speaking. Why? What in the name of all that is me are those people thinking? Shotgun blast TO THE FACE and you want an open casket? Who are these people? Needless to say, I rushed to the front of the line. Nah, not really. If I had, it would have only been to get the fuck out of there. Either way, I had a pretty good belly laugh afterwards. Later in the week I remarked that she had gone out with a bang. That is my most cruel joke ever, and it is as funny as shit is smelly.
Is that cruel? Maybe. But I don’t find it any less cruel than throwing God’s gift of life in His face. It’s not as cruel as tearing the heart out of your family, or ripping your friends’ feelings to shreds. Kicking the people close to you in the gut as they sit and wonder why you had to act like such a fucking dumbass. So, to the person really contemplating suicide, you’re right. You are a fucking idiot, but chances are you’re important to somebody. God doesn’t put people on the earth for no reason. Do everybody a favor. Stop your bitching and find your purpose in life. You’re welcome.
There, now that was an ordeal. Like to fucking killed me, pun totally intended. That will just about do it for me tonight. I am off to a nice evening of repetitive Sportscenter and repetitive Sportscenter. Tomorrow I shall buy much cocaine to snort while I do your mother, whom I also bought, cheaply I might add. And boom goes the dynamite.
Until next time America. Take it easy.
The Dude
P.S. I still love you, a lot.
