I can barely listen to music lately, have barely updated my playlist at work. Am I approaching that age where musical exploration freezes? Am I destined to look forward to reunion concerts?

No, there’s no way, but that would be a better reason. Instead I think I’ve ruined most of my favorite music. The past is so attached to those songs that I can’t listen. I can’t wait for the past. Seeing Coldplay in concert last night and being thankful they didn’t play her song, and ‘her’ isn’t even an important memory.

It looks terrible outside. I’m waiting for long grain rice to cool in the fridge so I can fry it, I’ve got chicken and vegetables cut up. It all seems really boring. It’s a good enough reason not to write, but those are the reasons I usually choose to. I could go read The Doors of Perception and get excited, but where would that lead me? Only 2 months until I should be back in Europe. 2 weeks of Spanish lessons are finished. ¿qué siguiente?

I’ve been through Europe, I’ve come home, I’ve cut off my hair.
I’ve cleaned my apartment, taken out the garbage, done groceries.
It’s been 6 weeks of this, 6 weeks of routine again.
I bought a new shirt at american eagle, bought more toilet paper.
Cashed my paycheck, made sure my taxes were done.
What the hell now. I don’t like this.
I’m happy, but what for, I’m happy because things are working.
Hell I’m pretty grateful for it actually, I fought for it in small doses.
Maybe I need a victory, or maybe I need a new goal.

A few year ago I wrote about paper cups.
Now I’m just wondering what to do… I’ve got nobody to feed off of.

this is all i gotta say for the time being while i write software and my book…

everyone is gonna push you down.
spit on you and mock you, daring you to get up.

it took me a lot of spite, and strong will to survive to get by it all.
and my brothers.

my brothers are the ones that keep helping me get through my life–
and likewise, i do the same for them…………

and the right girl for me??? who knows who it is…but i found one that can deal with me, and that’s good enuf for now.

I should write better things here.

Like this…
(Apr/22/03)
I hope you’re happy, because I’m sad, and we have to keep a balance.

& This…
(Jan/21/03)
Join me in my bed. I’ll be waiting. Let’s lay nude & curl our legs around each other; Touch me accidentally. That’s all I want. Let’s rape my sheets & new duvet. Make them pay.

& Sure, even this:
(May/05/03)
Today I have to go up to my Dad’s & use Kyle’s printer. The covers I made for my mom’s CD aren’t coming out right! The front cover is good enough. I’ll leave it alone. But the back cover? It has issues. I wonder if I can use that to explain our relationship.

But I don’t! This site rarely sees anything I consider remotely good. I never write heartfelt — stuff — here! Anything that’s ever ended up here that meant something to me was composed elsewhere. Livejournal, deardiary, notepad, my bed.. The bath! Maybe I’d like to be anywhere but here? Haha come on now! My writing style depends on the audience. Not to mention the writing I choose to be an audience to.

Whatever that means. The more people read — Or I guess I should say: The more people I think are reading, the worse my writing gets.

I feel this post to be useless, too. I just don’t have any epiphanies to share outside of myself. And I don’t like to be personal here.

I have 6 blogs & they all serve different purposes. I’ve been using this one the longest & I still don’t know what I’m doing with it.

I have to get a portfolio together of pieces of writing and I was wondering if you the readers had any favourites.
Also if you fellow writers have any favourites.. let me know

Thanks
Salem

All the rest of you are as well.
I hope you all have a wonderfull weekend, and here’s my two cents worth of thought.

I’ve come to realize three main things since I’ve moved back home from school…

1.) People don’t do things to you, they do things for themselves
Think of those egomaniacs that think they’re all that…

2.) You can live with losing your reputation but you can’t live without losing your honour,
I believe this works from these two definitions
Reputation: What every one thinks of you
Honour: What you think of yourself

AND finally

3.) You have to do what makes you happy, not what makes everyone else happy.

All the rest of you are as well.
I hope you all have a wonderfull weekend, and here’s my two cents worth of thought.

I’ve come to realize three main things since I’ve moved back home from school…

1.) People don’t do things to you, they do things for themselves
Think of those egomaniacs that think they’re all that…

2.) You can live with losing your reputation but you can’t live without losing your honour,
I believe this works from these two definitions
Reputation: What every one thinks of you
Honour: What you think of yourself

AND finally

3.) You have to do what makes you happy, not what makes everyone else happy.

maybe it’s my parents fault, maybe its mtv, vh1, the news and cnn.
but i can’t help but be perpetually angry and agressive towards the weaker links in my food chain.

or maybe its becuase of video games, movies, south park and beavis and butthead that i am so violent.
i love to fight.
i love for fools to act tough to me, because i know what’s going to happen to them.
i thought i was pretty tough, then i started boxing training with a 2x gold glove winner.
he’s tough, i’m trying to be.

so now, i love it when some jamoke starts being disrespectful towards one of my female friends.
not because they get upset, but because then i have an excuse to punk suckers out.

the best line i heard tonight was “you don’t none of this…we got 4 guys with us, 2 are marines”.
me: “so. i’m a former marine, and i know i can take them. as for you and your chump friend…..if you think you got something, bring it–i’m right here”

i think some people say the whole marine thing and mention how many people they have with them because they are afraid of getting in an actual fight. i thrive on it.
i love throwing punches when i have 3-6 targets. sometimes i get my ass kicked.
but most times they end up running.
but in the end, i always know what i am made of, and how strong i really am.
maybe it’s just me being barbaric, but i know where i stand, and i also know where you stand.
and i’ll always stand on top of you.

even though i have this crippling depression that makes me cry every night,
and every woman i’ve ever wanted was either a drug dealer or “in love” with a fat bastard…..
i still know my self worth, and now i know theirs.
and i’ll always know that i am stronger than you
because i can drink alone.
i can tend household chores alone.
i can eat alone.
in fact—you name something you do with your friends—-guaranteed i do it by myself and feel better about it……….

sometimes i’m glad.
like right now, i’m glad that i’m chronically depressed….
it makes all of YOUR problems just go away.
plus, it also makes all of you look like a bunch of teenage crybabies who could never hack it.
for all you wimmen out there, who would you rather have for a lifetime:

choice A) the guy who can talk a good fight and “analyze” stuff so it kinda makes sense to someone, but isn’t really practical at all.

choice B) the guy who works a lot, then works out, and then goes home and does household shit. the guy who could get you through the jungle night without breaking a sweat.

so why do you choose choice A again? i really wanna know. is it because he can talk like a rapper? or is it that he makes a lot money from selling drugs to kids?

i’m just joking.
but seriously………………….

Well, here I am, again. Five AM already, you say? My perfectionist side says it’s 4:45 — I’ve always been more of a casual rounder. I promised myself I would go to bed earlier tonight. That’s a lie, but I still meant to anyways. Good enough, right? I did try! Believe me, I did: A good 20 minutes after reading ‘Jack Bean’. He’s got me reading before bed, among other things. Humph, a lot of good it does me. Schitzer (my cat) is sound on the back of my loafer-of-a-chair, only looking up @ the sprinkling of tobacco against a Zig Zag. Midnite (my other cat), is also quite sound, though on a towel left behind on the couch cushion after yet another wonderful shower. Sometimes I forget how good they are (both my cats & the shower).

Did you catch that tobacco bit? Ya, I figured you might of. I’ve started again, but I must say I’m proud of the month I lasted! Quite the amazement to me considering I’ve smoked more than my share for over 6 years. I’ll conquer this habit. I’ve conquered the rest: Just the puff of a joint, & a drink (or 4) on rare occasion. I don’t know why I’ve thrown out my bad habits really. Well, the most visible anyways. The ones I let people know about. What’s the point? I mean, besides making me feel like shit — Really? What’s the fucking point? God knows I already feel like shit 24/6. That’s right, 24/6. Lets be a perfectionist again, for a moment.. 24/6.5. Ya, that sounds about right. I get about 12 hours a week of feeling good — Healthy, even. Maybe even happy! I don’t write about this stuff because I don’t think most people care. Most? I don’t think the people I wish cared even care. That’s all that matters. Sure, my dad holds his head up high & feels good that he is financially & physically stABLE enough to support his daughter through such a treacherous time. And I guess he should be proud. He should be. I know I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. But, hah! Is that really a good thing?

Sticking something in here along the lines of ‘My life has taken a turn for the better/worst’ would be very comforting. Yep, even ‘worst’, but I can’t say that. I can’t say that my life has turned, or shifted, or taken off in anyway what so ever in the past 3 years. Three years. That’s a long time to be stagnate. That’s a long time to be lonely & an even longer time to be sad. Or am I angry? I can never figure that out.

There is more, believe it or not:
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