So many words. Not enough paper in this world. Don't hurt the trees over me.

Beyond Comprehension

For some odd reason, beyond comprehension, it’s far easier for me to face a situation head on even when I know the outcome will be disaster than it is for me to watch it burn from a distance. Lately, there have been just way too many changes in my life. From the way I’ve felt, to the things I see, to the people I deal with. So off balance, but this is life.

Now it’s time to rebuild, but the hardest part is re-finding self. I feel like I need a map to find myself. The old me – crazy son a lady. I feel too locked down within my own mind. Rules, rules, rules – I break.

Right now, my brain is a complicated package. Things seem to make as much sense as bags of water. Fuck am I supposed to close this after the first sip? Just dump it out? That’s it?

Maybe I do need to dump everything and start off fresh. Humans annoy me. That last part was completely irrelevant, but I’m not hitting backspace. Now its just a matter of Pandora radio and headphones and the one candle that flickers until it’s almost out even though there is no cross wind in here. Paranormal Activity in my pants!

My pants are in no way affiliated with my frustrations.

Either way, myself and my pants both have some soul searching to do. I was on the edge, I hated the edge. Now I’m back in the middle of the ring and ready to fight. This is where all the magic is.

This entire post makes no sense to you if you have no clue of the events, however, I do thank you for taking the time out of your busy schedule to read my nonsense. It really means something. What that is, I am not sure of. But it means SOMETHING.

 

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Shoplift Facial Fuzzie

Another day another dollar. Had to roll out earlier today for our 7:45am meeting that was awesomely pointless, in my opinion. Today was crazy vicious on my throat. It’s getting worse, but chugging like a gallon of orange juice a day keeps me pretty grounded all around. More xmas truck coming in, but no one buying this crap yet.

They say more money more problems. My question is, are the problems for the person with the more money or all the other motherfuckers with less money? I got a small raise, I get more shit. I’m supposed to live up to these things. Am I the only one who realizes I don’t take this shit that serious? I just happen to be a hard worker. Simple. I don’t slack.

Catching up with school is a bitch right now. I don’t know what to do. Tonight I will be pulling an all-nighter. Stocked up on green tea, cereal, and deodorant. The deodorant will not be used to keep me awake and entertained, however I will smell good.

Look at this blog post. It’s so sloppy. It’s all over the board. Today, I saw something sad at work.

I was going to buy something when I turn around and see two little kids, who couldn’t have been any older than 6 years old, boosting candy. I wait until they put the stuff in their pockets. It starts.

Excuse me. Excuse me! Hi. Why are you guys stealing candy?

They turn around and my “stern” goes limp as I see myself in these kids (minus the theft part). So I ask them why they’re stealing candy. No answer. I tell them if they want it to just ask their mom or dad. And then the pause. “Where are your parents?!” They tell me, “he’s outside.” Okay, well why the fuck is he sending 5 or 6 year olds into a store to get shit?!

I ask them politely to put the candy back. I mean come on, they’re kids! So they put it back and walk towards the back whispering when I notice they have two more things in their hands. So I ask where they were going. They said they were “putting these back”. Yeah right kid! So I ask them to bring it to me and I will put it back for them. They walk out of the store and I turn around to everyone and I’m like…

Can I legally go outside and talk to that man about him sending his kids in here to boost for him?

I don’t think I could. But gotdamn, I wanted to so bad! That’s sad when this is the shit you got your kids doing. I hate that. Some people don’t deserve the privilege of having kids. They use them as tools.

The day was sort of long, but one thing made it all worthwhile. I took a few pieces of felt and decided to cut them up after one of my co-workers found it. This was the end result lol…

This is my boy ya-mizzle. He takes himself so seriously so this made my day when he saw it ahahahahha.

Now I’m off to write papers and attempt to ignore my shoddy social life lol.

Peace’d. ;D

Thought Soup

School life can be so confusing. What is it about college that just robs you of all of your cognitive resources? Working 40 hours a week on top of that isn’t exactly helping me either.

Too many people are all over in my world. Either too happy for me, and making me want to punch them in the nose or all depressing making me want to toss them into an incinerator. What?!

Chipotle and liquor seems to be the temporary fix to the madness. The elevator to a higher state of being. I like this. That first sip, it’s sort of like the opening credits, you know. But soon its the 50th sip and it’s like the best part of the movie. Everything is moving fast and slow at the same time. I can’t stand. Or can I? I’m not too sure. My feet seem to be in the right place, but my body is offset. Leaning tower of ninja?

Emotions? They run wicked circles around my head like it’s the worlds most intriguing relay race. Pass the baton!!

My writing? Yeah, that’s my medicine. My friends, some of them cease to exist in my world. Sad, really, but what can I do. You live and grow. Sometimes you outgrow them, sometimes they outgrow you.

Music is still the kids best therapy. A few songs in my BlackBerry and my Skull Candy headphones make it rotate with very little discretion. My iPod, I might as well sell it. I hate needing to have that special piece to charge it in the wall. Fuck your splice.

My throat, feeling like a cats scratching post. Tea won’t help. Maybe work will?

Yeah, work will do. My raise is reflected in tomorrows check. Lets see how much of a difference it makes. I’ll try not to spend it all in one place while drinking my juice in the hood.

I feel like MC Hammer. I need more money. Except, my pants fit. Lets drive off.

Sometimes I love the fact that I’m my worst enemy. It saves me all the stress of being nice, like you pretend to be.

You’re no friend of me. You’re no enemy. You’re no blip on my radar. You’re a centipede.

Nowhere close to big enough to be detected. So now, I’ll seek respect in making your death my incentive.

I dream bigger now. I wait for no one. You want me to give you heart? I’m clueless. You got to show one.

Show me the finer things, that simply lying brings. Simple as fire seems to innocent infants.

Lost in this instant. Snuffed in this moment. Snorting my own blood. Heartbeat is homeless.

Hardly the homie, you thought you once knew, kid. Party and over drink to know me on my new shit.

You feel sick now? Good, now you’re getting close. You want to die now? Not yet? You’re getting colder.

I’m no tragedy waiting to happen. Trust me, I’m a tragedy lived, freebasing in traffic.

I’m down to take the whole city with me. If I cry then nobody lives to tell the story.

My nemesis, my reflection. Feel my pain and glory.

My state of mind is bending lines between what’s the reality and what’s really a tragedy. This is life.

Or better yet, this is mine. I’m sure I’m gonna be fine. I’m sure if I just keep crying my tears will form an river.

Then I could look in and swim in my reflection. See, rejection is what made me so insensitive but since it’s been a while my armor’s now my exoskeleton.

Extra sentiment for times my words created fires. Out of fear for my words, my heart created liars.

So now I’m just on the ledge. Too narcissistic to beg. I pray for forgiveness, but middle finger my witness and tell them to mind their business even though I’m standing in it.

See me, I’m sad and timid until I’m tempted to get it. Then I make my victims wish that they never let me begin it.

Heaven’s my limit, so ima smash the gas until I hit it, or I go beyond and meet the other side.

I’m just a menace.

No Pocket Love

Last night I started one of the most intellectual conversations of all time based on something that most humans take for granted: underwear pockets.

Go ahead, take a minute to soak up the complexity.

I had a long conversation with about 3 people who think that my idea makes no sense, but hear me out! Underwear needs pockets. I don’t know how the ladies feel about it because most women are minimalists, which is good. Men love skimpy clothes on you, don’t change that!! However, men are all about utilities. I was sitting on my bed last night in my underwear and I needed my 4th bowl of cereal and I had my phone. No pockets to put it in. What if I had gum and I wanted to take it with me! I like to walk around is boxer briefs and I like to have my breath smelling good. Does this make me weird for wanting the best of both worlds. What if I have loose change and I need to pick something up? Pockets are handy.

Underwear space is wasted for males. The time and energy they put into that weewee flap, that no man with a normal sized penis uses, could be put into making very usable pockets. Has anyone actually inspected this weewee flap? I did last night. Its like a maze! You have to put the penis left first, then slither it to the right as if you’re sneaking up on the toilet. I don’t want to surreptitious about peeing! Plus all that weaving may lead me to pee on the shoes of the guy next to me. Then we fight, and fall in a public restroom. That’s never good.

Making such a case deserves some kind of recognition if you ask me. I should write to all the major distributors about this. Underpockets. That could be where you keep your good shit. That way if you get robbed you have that emergency $20 waiting in your boxers/ boxer briefs/ tighty whiteys.

My idea was not received well by the masses. My friend KC made a note to not take any gum from me and warned me about my ass blowing bubbles. Thanks KC!

The moral of the story is that underwear needs pockets, and I will be on the front line of this battle.

Amen

(I’m way too tired to make this elaborate)

Fresh Meat, I Am Not

Working in retail helps me end up in awkward situations with awkward people all the time. There was that one guy who looked like Shaq, who bought $70 in lube, condoms, and wipes. Then there was that lady who is hard of hearing and yells at everyone. Then there’s that dude who looks like a bum but comes in and buys hundreds of dollars of electronics. Our store gets it popping, I’d say!

Today however was an encounter of the third kind. The third kind of course being stranger than the second kind, which by the law of numbers is statistically stranger than the first kind.

Anyway, I wear slim pants. My favorite trousers from H&M are my work pants. Dark and slim, just like me. So they serve well to keep my ass radar at peak efficiency. What is an ass radar you may ask. I’ll tell you!

Ass radar: detection device used to know when someone is staring at your ass.

Today, my ass radar went on red alert. I could feel it. Someone was staring at my ass as I bent down to pick up laxatives to put them on the shelf. So I turn around to see, quite frankly, the wrong crowd.

One man. One rather large man, staring, and I mean I’m surprised I didn’t have grill marks on my ass, staring! I turn fully towards him, he’s still staring from about 20 feet away. I say, well maybe he’s not. Maybe my ass is just paranoid. So I walk towards him to put away the items. He’s still staring.

“Is this dude checking me out?

I ask myself in utter confusion as I attempt to act as if I’m not bothered. As I turn the corner he looks at me and smiles. AWKWARD! Don’t smile at me! As I walk back I turn around again he’s still grilling! I hate that. The fact that I was walking around with string cheese in my mouth probably wasn’t helping, either.

Now, I’ve had gay guys compliment me. And I admit, its always awkward for me. Sometimes I say thank you, some times I just don’t acknowledge. They even do it when I’m with my girlfriend. She tells me I should be flattered that I’m attractive to both sexes. I say I should be shocked. Its just out of the norm for me. Simple.

And I have gay acquaintances. Some of them are some of the coolest people I know! I’m no homophobic.

Funny thought: they say most homophobics “end up” gay themselves. Do arachniphobics end up as spiders at some point? Spiderman?! =O!

Anyway, I tell my manager this, and we start joking about why we wouldn’t last in jail. It would be no fun, and I’m no ones “fresh meat”.

To make a weird day even weirder, I’d like to NOT thank that guy. You sir, need help. I’m not a hot piece of ass! Don’t try to turn me into one. Thank you.

P.S. For a gay man, your choice of shoes was horrendous.

Okay now I’m done.

The end.

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