I don't make resolutions every year. I don't make them because, contrary to what you might read in this journal, by the time the new year gets here, I'm content with what's going on in my life.
This year is different. I'm not content, and I have the will to change a couple things, so I'm going to. And here's what they are (this list will be updated as I add more to it):
1) After I finish my absinthe, I will not drink any more alcohol except for soju and mead (which I don't yet have).
2) I will drop enough weight to get myself to 175lbs, and I will either keep it off, or gain it back in pure muscle.
3) I will not spend the majority of 2012 alone.
4) I will gain back the patience I have lost in dealing with children under 13.
5) Attend my first convention. Preferably a furry convention, but an anime convention would be fine too.
6) I will find a better way of dealing with my anger. Something better than just keeping it bottled up until I have to restrain myself from strangling little children.
7)
8)
9)
10)
I have 5 resolutions so far. I hope to have a few more before the new year hits.
30 December 2011
05 December 2011
This Is That Other Post
The one I wrote the first time while stoned off my ass that I referred to in my last journal? Here you go, for those of you that don't know what I'm talking about.
---
I was a bit under the influence last night, and I was thinking; Just why is it that I consider myself to be a no good, worthless, listless pile of shit? Then I realize, it's because of a series of complex thoughts, morals, and processes working against me. For instance, I don't really want kids. At least, not right now. And I stop myself from dating girls who have had kids (with the exception of one, and that line of happiness and worthfulness and all those nessess I probably need but didn't have at the time I dated her (or faux-dated her like the idiot I am) I'm not going to get into because it's personal and long-winded). But nothing stops me from thinking, in my head, "I know we're good friends and all, but I really wanna fuck you," and then I feel disgusted with myself and scold myself for being a prickhead to the female of my species. Why am I telling this potential girl this? Why should what I want be a potential baby-maker to her, especially when I don't feel qualified enough to stick around to care for it, and especially don't want any to begin with? Which leads me to question the same about no-dependents girls, and then why would they even want to do the same? Hell, she could reject me flat-out, and leave me feeling like a fool, and then the friendship would be all awkward and fizzle out. And then I think that sex in general has fizzled out three friendships I can think of so far, with one staying permanent and two eventually resolving but not being as strong as they once were. Which makes me just hate myself for letting the friendships fail, and wishing he could have those friends back as strong as they were. I'm gonna stop there because it just keeps spiraling down from there.
It's really bad here now because I've been without it for so long, and I do believe that a healthy sex life makes for a healthy human. And then two of my neighbors are fucking hot, and both of them have kids, and I'm just being a complete pig for having those thoughts about them, without even taking into account how they might feel about it. So logically, I'm a disgusting human being, lower than a pile of shit.
Clearly I am a fool.
---
I was a bit under the influence last night, and I was thinking; Just why is it that I consider myself to be a no good, worthless, listless pile of shit? Then I realize, it's because of a series of complex thoughts, morals, and processes working against me. For instance, I don't really want kids. At least, not right now. And I stop myself from dating girls who have had kids (with the exception of one, and that line of happiness and worthfulness and all those nessess I probably need but didn't have at the time I dated her (or faux-dated her like the idiot I am) I'm not going to get into because it's personal and long-winded). But nothing stops me from thinking, in my head, "I know we're good friends and all, but I really wanna fuck you," and then I feel disgusted with myself and scold myself for being a prickhead to the female of my species. Why am I telling this potential girl this? Why should what I want be a potential baby-maker to her, especially when I don't feel qualified enough to stick around to care for it, and especially don't want any to begin with? Which leads me to question the same about no-dependents girls, and then why would they even want to do the same? Hell, she could reject me flat-out, and leave me feeling like a fool, and then the friendship would be all awkward and fizzle out. And then I think that sex in general has fizzled out three friendships I can think of so far, with one staying permanent and two eventually resolving but not being as strong as they once were. Which makes me just hate myself for letting the friendships fail, and wishing he could have those friends back as strong as they were. I'm gonna stop there because it just keeps spiraling down from there.
It's really bad here now because I've been without it for so long, and I do believe that a healthy sex life makes for a healthy human. And then two of my neighbors are fucking hot, and both of them have kids, and I'm just being a complete pig for having those thoughts about them, without even taking into account how they might feel about it. So logically, I'm a disgusting human being, lower than a pile of shit.
Clearly I am a fool.
28 November 2011
Oh Look, Another Rant Journal
Alright, so I'm gonna do this in bullet form because I don't feel like typing forever, as well as when I started this journal I was a little
bit "under the influence."
* So, I probably need to start being careful about what I show to which friends. That last real personal journal I wrote while stoned off my ass? I showed it to another friend I trust a lot and now it feels like her whole outlook about me has changed to something akin to a sex fiend. Like the only reason why I'm her friend is because I want to get in her pants. =/
* I have no idea how to live with a shopaholic. It feels like Natalie has no idea how to curb her spending habits. Take this past summer, for instance. Yard sales abound. Natalie had trouble passing a yard sale without slowing down or stopping to look at it. And then, she had even more trouble not buying anything from said yard sales. And even now, when yard sale season is over and done with, she goes and places a $1000+ layaway at Walmart. Without care about the bills and such we already have difficulty paying off...
* Natalie is one of those people that didn't have very much growing up. She had all the essentials, but didn't get much of what she wanted, so she ends up with the idea that her kids deserve whatever they want, or that they can never have enough clothes/shoes. Except that she spends so much on clothing that she ends up having to sell most of what she buys later on just to cover the debts she's wracked up from spending so much money.
* Her little girl, Autumn, is driving me absolutely crazy. She's 7 and acts like she's still 3. If she wants something, she'll throw a fit til she gets it. If she doesn't like something, she'll throw a fit until she gets what she likes. She's trained herself to throw up whenever she eats any kind of vegetable. She faked crying so much that the fake cry has become the real cry. And three quarters of what she tells me is a lie.
* Currently, she's throwing a fit because she wants a bath. She says she "hasn't had a bath in a week" so obviously she's aced the art of exaggeration, as she was washed last night. Both kids (but Autumn especially) can't get to sleep at night without the television being on, and both will throw fits if they're told no TV.
* Natalie doesn't know how to punish her kids. She can't stand by her word. At the beginning of this year, the both of us agreed that there was to be no Xbox Sunday through Thursday of the week during the school season. That rule lasted a week. I try to enforce that rule, and Natalie discards it at the drop of a hat (or a tear, as is the norm).
* Her son Jonathan is an absolute wuss of a 9 year old. Yes, I get it, he's young, but Natalie let's him cry for EVERYTHING. He doesn't get soda with dinner? Cry. Doesn't get to play Xbox as soon as he gets home from school? Cry. Doesn't get a toy from Walmart even we don't have the money for it right now and Christmas is right around the corner anyway? Cry. Doesn't want to go to the football practice he begged and pleaded with his mother to put him in (that cost her $50 she really didn't have in the first place just for signups, not to mention the nearly $200 she spent on his equipment)? Cry. And when he's crying because he's not getting something his sister has because his sister got into something she wasn't supposed to, instead of punishing Autumn for getting into shit, she gives Jonathan the same thing and Autumn gets away scot-free.
* Then there's the Xbox. It's mine. Natalie knows it's mine. But apparently I'm not allowed to say who gets to play it and when. The kids used to come to me for permission to play, and then they bypass me and go to their mother when I told them no. But they found that more often than not, when I said no, it stayed. So now they bypass me and go straight to their mother. And when I say no after she's said yes, her word stays. It's pissing me off. I'm about to go buy a little diary lock and lock the prongs of the power box to the console so that they have to come to me for permission, because only I will have the key. And you know what? No Xbox Sunday through Thursday. I don't care if they're off for fall/winter/spring break. It's still the school season, and it's not summer yet.
* I have never wanted so badly to hit a little kid than when I came here to take care of Nat's kids. They need to be spanked or have some sort of punishment more than just being yelled at, but I'm afraid that if I spank them, I'll bruise them. Natalie has informed me that if I spank them, I'm to use a paddle or my hand, but I used my hand once on Autumn for lying to me and ended up leaving a hand-shaped bruise on her butt. And I didn't swing that hard in the first place. And even if I do spank them, I'll be the only one doing it. Natalie doesn't spank until she's been pushed over the edge, and even then it's a 50/50 chance.
* Then there's the cat. We have three cats now: Shimmer, the oldest, Shine, the middle (she's the one I rescued from under a Walmart semi), and Cortana, the youngest (the orange and white cat that Nat's always wanted). Shimmer is going through... something akin to an extended heat, or something else. Constantly chirruping, constantly trying to run outside whenever the door is opened, rolling around on the floor, and PISSING ON EVERYTHING. That cat has been beat so many times for pissing outside of the catbox, you'd expect her to have learned by now. But no, she's still doing it. And Natalie's always talking about how we have to get rid of her, but when I offer to punt her out the front door, Nat waves me away and doesn't do anything about it. We don't have the money to take the cat to the vet to find out what's really going on, and it's gotten to the point now where we have to keep our bedroom doors shut and chase her out of the rooms if she gets in them at all. I'm starting to wonder what cat stew would taste like.
I'm gonna stop there for now and come back to this later. In another journal, probably.
bit "under the influence."
* So, I probably need to start being careful about what I show to which friends. That last real personal journal I wrote while stoned off my ass? I showed it to another friend I trust a lot and now it feels like her whole outlook about me has changed to something akin to a sex fiend. Like the only reason why I'm her friend is because I want to get in her pants. =/
* I have no idea how to live with a shopaholic. It feels like Natalie has no idea how to curb her spending habits. Take this past summer, for instance. Yard sales abound. Natalie had trouble passing a yard sale without slowing down or stopping to look at it. And then, she had even more trouble not buying anything from said yard sales. And even now, when yard sale season is over and done with, she goes and places a $1000+ layaway at Walmart. Without care about the bills and such we already have difficulty paying off...
* Natalie is one of those people that didn't have very much growing up. She had all the essentials, but didn't get much of what she wanted, so she ends up with the idea that her kids deserve whatever they want, or that they can never have enough clothes/shoes. Except that she spends so much on clothing that she ends up having to sell most of what she buys later on just to cover the debts she's wracked up from spending so much money.
* Her little girl, Autumn, is driving me absolutely crazy. She's 7 and acts like she's still 3. If she wants something, she'll throw a fit til she gets it. If she doesn't like something, she'll throw a fit until she gets what she likes. She's trained herself to throw up whenever she eats any kind of vegetable. She faked crying so much that the fake cry has become the real cry. And three quarters of what she tells me is a lie.
* Currently, she's throwing a fit because she wants a bath. She says she "hasn't had a bath in a week" so obviously she's aced the art of exaggeration, as she was washed last night. Both kids (but Autumn especially) can't get to sleep at night without the television being on, and both will throw fits if they're told no TV.
* Natalie doesn't know how to punish her kids. She can't stand by her word. At the beginning of this year, the both of us agreed that there was to be no Xbox Sunday through Thursday of the week during the school season. That rule lasted a week. I try to enforce that rule, and Natalie discards it at the drop of a hat (or a tear, as is the norm).
* Her son Jonathan is an absolute wuss of a 9 year old. Yes, I get it, he's young, but Natalie let's him cry for EVERYTHING. He doesn't get soda with dinner? Cry. Doesn't get to play Xbox as soon as he gets home from school? Cry. Doesn't get a toy from Walmart even we don't have the money for it right now and Christmas is right around the corner anyway? Cry. Doesn't want to go to the football practice he begged and pleaded with his mother to put him in (that cost her $50 she really didn't have in the first place just for signups, not to mention the nearly $200 she spent on his equipment)? Cry. And when he's crying because he's not getting something his sister has because his sister got into something she wasn't supposed to, instead of punishing Autumn for getting into shit, she gives Jonathan the same thing and Autumn gets away scot-free.
* Then there's the Xbox. It's mine. Natalie knows it's mine. But apparently I'm not allowed to say who gets to play it and when. The kids used to come to me for permission to play, and then they bypass me and go to their mother when I told them no. But they found that more often than not, when I said no, it stayed. So now they bypass me and go straight to their mother. And when I say no after she's said yes, her word stays. It's pissing me off. I'm about to go buy a little diary lock and lock the prongs of the power box to the console so that they have to come to me for permission, because only I will have the key. And you know what? No Xbox Sunday through Thursday. I don't care if they're off for fall/winter/spring break. It's still the school season, and it's not summer yet.
* I have never wanted so badly to hit a little kid than when I came here to take care of Nat's kids. They need to be spanked or have some sort of punishment more than just being yelled at, but I'm afraid that if I spank them, I'll bruise them. Natalie has informed me that if I spank them, I'm to use a paddle or my hand, but I used my hand once on Autumn for lying to me and ended up leaving a hand-shaped bruise on her butt. And I didn't swing that hard in the first place. And even if I do spank them, I'll be the only one doing it. Natalie doesn't spank until she's been pushed over the edge, and even then it's a 50/50 chance.
* Then there's the cat. We have three cats now: Shimmer, the oldest, Shine, the middle (she's the one I rescued from under a Walmart semi), and Cortana, the youngest (the orange and white cat that Nat's always wanted). Shimmer is going through... something akin to an extended heat, or something else. Constantly chirruping, constantly trying to run outside whenever the door is opened, rolling around on the floor, and PISSING ON EVERYTHING. That cat has been beat so many times for pissing outside of the catbox, you'd expect her to have learned by now. But no, she's still doing it. And Natalie's always talking about how we have to get rid of her, but when I offer to punt her out the front door, Nat waves me away and doesn't do anything about it. We don't have the money to take the cat to the vet to find out what's really going on, and it's gotten to the point now where we have to keep our bedroom doors shut and chase her out of the rooms if she gets in them at all. I'm starting to wonder what cat stew would taste like.
I'm gonna stop there for now and come back to this later. In another journal, probably.
03 July 2011
Make Sure You Treat Her Right
Love, it seems, is a foreign concept to me.
And forgiveness is a foreign concept to others.
Goal: Make zero mistakes from here until the end of my life so that I don't have to worry about "fake forgiveness".
And forgiveness is a foreign concept to others.
Goal: Make zero mistakes from here until the end of my life so that I don't have to worry about "fake forgiveness".
08 April 2011
The More Things Change...
When I was a child (that is, under the age of 18) living under my mother's roof, I was happy. I did my chores, I went to school, I had my friends, I was allowed to follow my habits and do what I wanted as long as it was safe and within the boundaries and limits my mother had set for me. I was there for my family, and they were there for me, and I was happy because I felt appreciated.
Then I got out on my own. I graduated from school and joined the military, and for a while I was happy. Then the stress and monotony of the job took over, and I realized that I was just another face in a sea of faces, protecting a country that was not my own. I wasn't happy anymore. I wasn't appreciated. I realized that if I left, or if I died, I could just as easily be replaced. If I died, the military would send a letter home informing my parents of my death, and my life would accumulate to an article in the newspaper, certain family members in tears, and (whether my death was honorable or dishonorable) either a military funeral or a regular burial.
Then I got home, and moved back in with my mother and her boyfriend. For a while I was too depressed to feel anything but sadness and lethargy, but soon I tried to find ways to make myself forget I was depressed, or make myself too busy to be depressed. And it worked for a while; as long as I had a job or a girlfriend, I could lose myself in the job or the relationship and I wouldn't be hounded by the depression.
I was able to gain a job five months after I moved back in with my mother, mainly because I was engrossed in depression and didn't want to do anything. It was the threats of being thrown out on my ass that finally got me moving. I wasn't doing much in the house at all, I'll admit, but I wasn't being helped in that front either. Gone was the acceptance and appreciation I was familiar with when I lived with my mother as a child. In its place was an unfamiliar feeling of shame, as well as this nagging feeling that I was a burden on my mother and her boyfriend as long as I lived with them.
For a little over a year I was able to hold on to that job. During the time I was working, half of every paycheck went to my mother, a quarter went into my bank account, and the last quarter went to bills of my own (cell phone, car insurance, saving for my own place to rent, etc). Every time I pad her I got a thank you, but the thanks felt forced, as if she felt I owed her the money and that she shouldn't have to thank me for giving it to her. I was, in essence, her employment; I paid her rent so that she didn't have to get a real job.
Eventually I tired of the arrangement and moved out... no, I was kicked out. I stayed in my car for a while, but soon got a place with my girlfriend and we moved in together. The job was losing its ability to keep my body occupied and away from my depression, and my sleeping schedule began to suffer from the effects of the stress I was forcing upon myself. Soon I was getting home at midnight and not getting to sleep until ten or eleven in the morning simply because I was too disturbed to sleep, and would have to wait until my body exhausted itself and I passed out. And it didn't help that I would have to wake at three in the afternoon to get ready for work, accumulating only a mere five hours of sleep at most.
My relationship suffered as well, and soon exhaustion gave way to anger, and anger produced a messy split and the loss of a good friend for a long time. And as normally followed any relationship split, I became sad and withdrawn into myself, allowing my depression to seep deeper into my subconscious.
The relationship was a bad idea from the beginning. I was close friends with the girl, and foolishly believed that it would be enough to form a lasting romantic relationship with her, but another major factor in the decision was that I was a twenty-something virgin and she wasn't... I was becoming desperate, and I thought that the loss of my virginity might help to ease the pain of depression, and that having a regular partner might make me happy.
I failed to realize that my partner would derive her entire daily attitude on how recently she got laid. This attitude struck a massive blow on my libido. I didn't feel like I was appreciated. I felt like I was being used to keep her happy. Hypocritical, now that I realize it, and I despise hypocrites.
I moved out of the apartment that we shared (yet I paid all the bills), and into a house with my sister. We split rent, and then one day she decided to move out without telling me she was moving out. So I was left with this house that cost $700+, with multiple rooms and utility bills that I need to transfer into my name, and she wasn't going to help with them at all. I lasted another couple months in that house by inviting a bunch of friend to move in with me under the condition that they all get jobs and help with bills, but none of them even attempted to get jobs and that was the last straw for me. In a fit of depression, anger, and wanderlust, I packed my things and moved to Michigan, with a pit stop in Nebraska (which I refuse to talk about, it just made things worse).
Where am I going with all this? I think I've figured out why I feel so much happier living with this friend and her two kids and doing so many chores around this house, when I was doing the same chores for my mother and feeling like I couldn't stand another minute: I feel appreciated here.
I don't pay rent. I do the dishes when it's my turn without complaint, and I watch her kids for her on nights that she works (which is every night except Monday and Thursday). Every now and then she'll slip me a $20 or buy me a box of Gushers, and I'm perfectly content here. If I had a job other than babysitting I'd gladly pay rent and wouldn't care about it, and it's because I feel appreciated here.
I've ranted and raved about my mother and how she sits on her ass all day without attempting to get a job. I gone on and on about how I felt like I was the fallback guy, the one who was there to do the chores around the house that she just didn't feel like doing, and how it felt like her feelings of laziness were increasing bit by bit. Every time I go to her I feel like a burden or extra baggage, and her boyfriend's attitude towards me and actions towards me, both away from her and through her, increase my feelings of loneliness and depression. Every day that I lived with them it took more and more will to hold myself back and just not physically strike him as hard as I could. And as the days passed, her hypocrisy and 'do as I say, not as I do' attitude wore me down until I could no longer take it.
The feeling of appreciation I have been missing since my childhood days has been the driving factor in my being unhappy, I'm sure of it. My depression still lingers (which is why I'm up at 3am writing this, and the Loritab I took hasn't made me drowsy at all), but otherwise I'm happy. I just need to tackle the loneliness...
Then I got out on my own. I graduated from school and joined the military, and for a while I was happy. Then the stress and monotony of the job took over, and I realized that I was just another face in a sea of faces, protecting a country that was not my own. I wasn't happy anymore. I wasn't appreciated. I realized that if I left, or if I died, I could just as easily be replaced. If I died, the military would send a letter home informing my parents of my death, and my life would accumulate to an article in the newspaper, certain family members in tears, and (whether my death was honorable or dishonorable) either a military funeral or a regular burial.
Then I got home, and moved back in with my mother and her boyfriend. For a while I was too depressed to feel anything but sadness and lethargy, but soon I tried to find ways to make myself forget I was depressed, or make myself too busy to be depressed. And it worked for a while; as long as I had a job or a girlfriend, I could lose myself in the job or the relationship and I wouldn't be hounded by the depression.
I was able to gain a job five months after I moved back in with my mother, mainly because I was engrossed in depression and didn't want to do anything. It was the threats of being thrown out on my ass that finally got me moving. I wasn't doing much in the house at all, I'll admit, but I wasn't being helped in that front either. Gone was the acceptance and appreciation I was familiar with when I lived with my mother as a child. In its place was an unfamiliar feeling of shame, as well as this nagging feeling that I was a burden on my mother and her boyfriend as long as I lived with them.
For a little over a year I was able to hold on to that job. During the time I was working, half of every paycheck went to my mother, a quarter went into my bank account, and the last quarter went to bills of my own (cell phone, car insurance, saving for my own place to rent, etc). Every time I pad her I got a thank you, but the thanks felt forced, as if she felt I owed her the money and that she shouldn't have to thank me for giving it to her. I was, in essence, her employment; I paid her rent so that she didn't have to get a real job.
Eventually I tired of the arrangement and moved out... no, I was kicked out. I stayed in my car for a while, but soon got a place with my girlfriend and we moved in together. The job was losing its ability to keep my body occupied and away from my depression, and my sleeping schedule began to suffer from the effects of the stress I was forcing upon myself. Soon I was getting home at midnight and not getting to sleep until ten or eleven in the morning simply because I was too disturbed to sleep, and would have to wait until my body exhausted itself and I passed out. And it didn't help that I would have to wake at three in the afternoon to get ready for work, accumulating only a mere five hours of sleep at most.
My relationship suffered as well, and soon exhaustion gave way to anger, and anger produced a messy split and the loss of a good friend for a long time. And as normally followed any relationship split, I became sad and withdrawn into myself, allowing my depression to seep deeper into my subconscious.
The relationship was a bad idea from the beginning. I was close friends with the girl, and foolishly believed that it would be enough to form a lasting romantic relationship with her, but another major factor in the decision was that I was a twenty-something virgin and she wasn't... I was becoming desperate, and I thought that the loss of my virginity might help to ease the pain of depression, and that having a regular partner might make me happy.
I failed to realize that my partner would derive her entire daily attitude on how recently she got laid. This attitude struck a massive blow on my libido. I didn't feel like I was appreciated. I felt like I was being used to keep her happy. Hypocritical, now that I realize it, and I despise hypocrites.
I moved out of the apartment that we shared (yet I paid all the bills), and into a house with my sister. We split rent, and then one day she decided to move out without telling me she was moving out. So I was left with this house that cost $700+, with multiple rooms and utility bills that I need to transfer into my name, and she wasn't going to help with them at all. I lasted another couple months in that house by inviting a bunch of friend to move in with me under the condition that they all get jobs and help with bills, but none of them even attempted to get jobs and that was the last straw for me. In a fit of depression, anger, and wanderlust, I packed my things and moved to Michigan, with a pit stop in Nebraska (which I refuse to talk about, it just made things worse).
Where am I going with all this? I think I've figured out why I feel so much happier living with this friend and her two kids and doing so many chores around this house, when I was doing the same chores for my mother and feeling like I couldn't stand another minute: I feel appreciated here.
I don't pay rent. I do the dishes when it's my turn without complaint, and I watch her kids for her on nights that she works (which is every night except Monday and Thursday). Every now and then she'll slip me a $20 or buy me a box of Gushers, and I'm perfectly content here. If I had a job other than babysitting I'd gladly pay rent and wouldn't care about it, and it's because I feel appreciated here.
I've ranted and raved about my mother and how she sits on her ass all day without attempting to get a job. I gone on and on about how I felt like I was the fallback guy, the one who was there to do the chores around the house that she just didn't feel like doing, and how it felt like her feelings of laziness were increasing bit by bit. Every time I go to her I feel like a burden or extra baggage, and her boyfriend's attitude towards me and actions towards me, both away from her and through her, increase my feelings of loneliness and depression. Every day that I lived with them it took more and more will to hold myself back and just not physically strike him as hard as I could. And as the days passed, her hypocrisy and 'do as I say, not as I do' attitude wore me down until I could no longer take it.
The feeling of appreciation I have been missing since my childhood days has been the driving factor in my being unhappy, I'm sure of it. My depression still lingers (which is why I'm up at 3am writing this, and the Loritab I took hasn't made me drowsy at all), but otherwise I'm happy. I just need to tackle the loneliness...
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