halloween and stuff

Happy Halloween, boils and ghouls.  I carved a pumpkin on Sunday...or I attempted to.  It turned out crap 'cause I tried to get fancy with it by shading and highlighting and...no.  Carving isn't as easy as it might seem at first.  Maybe if I had a couple of pumpkins to practice with, I could have gotten the hang of it but my hand started cramping so I just gave up.  Anyway, here's some pictures of the gutting process.

Our stray cat who adopted us wanted to help.  "Here, gimme that knife.  Let me show you how to do it."

staycation and aftermath

Went back to work Monday after my wonderful week-long holiday.  It was fantastic.  I didn't do a thing and have no regrets.  I did, however, eat a ton of crap.  Over the course of seven days, I ended up eating a pumpkin cheesecake, a pumpkin cupcake, another pumpkin cheesecake, pumpkin cheesecake ice cream, pumpkin spice cake donuts, pumpkin spice latte, and a pumpkin spiced danish.  Now, my reasoning is pretty simple.  All the pumpkin-flavored items are seasonal.  If I didn't snatch up that goodness, I'd have to wait until next year.  I was literally eating that stuff like it was going out of style...because it was.

I also enjoyed watching AMC's Fearfest, which included a Friday the 13th marathon and random horror movies.  I also Netflixed the Saw movies and played some Resident Evil 6.  Also, the premiere of American Horror Story: Asylum and freaking The Walking Dead!  It was all about the gore and the gluttony and it was great.

It was just nice to relax and enjoy waking up late and going to bed late and being lazy.  I didn't even shave.  I've been wanting to grow a beard for a while now, mostly because I never have before and wanted to see if I could pull one off.  No Shave November is next month and I thought I'd participate but I also wanted to get a couple of week's head start.  I thought if I grew a pre-beard now, it wouldn't look so shabby when Thanksgiving came around. 

And then I went back to work and any energy I had managed to recover last week was gone within the first 15 minutes.  But everyone liked the facial hair.  I expected negative reactions but they were actually overwhelmingly positive.

Work girlfriend's jaw dropped and she gasped.  I thought it was out of disgust but she later told me it was because she thought I looked really attractive, to the point she couldn't look at me without getting a little excited.  That was a good little confidence booster.  And let me just add really quick, because I've already said I didn't want to really mention her anymore, she text blasted my phone the week I was gone.  It was actually kind of annoying.  It's like, go text your boyfriend.  I'm unavailable over here, being awesome growing a beard and blowing heads off zombies.  Back off my dick, ya know?

Anyway.

So, work sucks.  I came back with an IDGAF attitude, which probably wasn't the best because I had to train two new girls my first day back.  Work is gearing up for the Christmas rush so they've hired a bunch of losers to stand at the counter and struggle to make change for the next two months and I'm over it.

It was also brought to my attention that a lot of drama went down while I was gone.  I'm starting to believe that, while there's always going to be some sort of drama anywhere you go, it seems to be more concentrated in small towns.  Forgive me if I'm wrong but I just think that drama, much like pregnancy, is prolific simply because there's nothing better to do.  It's like, we can either go into the woods for a quick poke or start a rumor about Leona and her body pillow.

I just feel like, why can't we all get along?  What do you get from lying or telling half-truths or flat out making crap up?  We all hate our jobs and we all hate the customers so why can't we come together to counteract our putrid patrons?

I'm just tired of the same crap and feel like I can't trust anyone there.  They're all so sneaky and it's unfortunate they spend their energy being destructive.  I understand I'm one cynical mofo but I don't go around tearing people down every chance I get.  So, basically, everyone can suck it.

Man, I love October.    

you broke six of my arms when i tried to hug you

“For me, writing these stories about my actual life is a way of imbuing them with meaning. Even though I know that rationally my life is completely meaningless. It gives me pleasure to find meaning in it."
-Alison Bechdel

"I didn’t wake up to find myself as a bug
I’ve been one for much longer than I care to recall..."
-Showbread, Naked Lunch

Life often feels hopeless.  What does anything matter?  Ultimately, I'm not sure anything does matter.  Yet, we keep on going.  We keep working and drinking and hurting and loving.  We are pushed up from the earth and ride this big swirling planet until we are planted back into the floor.  Nothing changes and the world is no better for having us stomp all over her.

But here we are.  We carry on.  We do it because we have to.  The world, life, responsibilities, money, rent, bills, and family push us forward.

I am also pushed forward.  I have to go to work because I have student loans to pay back.  I have to pretend I like people to keep my job.  I have to hurt because that has been my designation in life.  And I have to write because of that hurt.  It's one of the only forms of therapy that eases the pain, like  a grip loosened on the heart.

I have to catalog my bits of brain matter.  I am not a writer and I am not an artist but I need to put something out into the world, to break off pieces of myself and send them hurdling through time and space.

But why?

Is it because I have gone unheard for so long?  It seems that way.  Over the years, my existence has morphed into an insignificant insect.  I have my place in the world, just alike any other bug, but I keep getting swept into a corner.  Unrecognized.  Unheard.  Yet, I have a voice and a mind and an essence that feels compelled to be acknowledged.

But what can a bug contribute to the world?  Not much.  But maybe it can contribute to a select few compassionate enough to acknowledge the bug's being, as minuscule as that being may be.  When you've spent your life on the floor, observing from a distance, being stepped on and shooed away, you learn a few lessons and see things from a different perspective.

But the lumbering hopelessness still whacks at me like a shoe.  What kind of reach does a bug have?  What if it can only touch others in its size bracket?  What if I'm relegated to reading to the worms and water bugs?  And if that's all it can do, isn't that enough? Is it better to change one life or many?  If life is so precious, then wouldn't making a difference in just one person's life be worth the effort?

Is accomplishment measured in quality or quantity?  In mass or meaning?  How many people or pests will it take to feel satisfied? 

Bugs carry on, too.  Ants march in line and spiders spin their webs.  Some are crushed, some are swooped up and eaten.  Most are never known.

The butterflies and beetles are just trying to live their lives the same way humans do.  Who said they never mattered?  

I keep trying to measure my talent.  How good am I?  Am I good enough?  Will I ever be as enticing or shocking or endearing as those I compare myself to?  I'm different, not so much better or worse, not even that unique.  What can I offer that someone else can't?  What good can I do?  What's inside that matters to those outside?

I will never be Hemingway or Rembrandt but that's okay.  I have these pops of clarity and I realize I have thoughts and opinions to offer and some like it and some don't.  Everyone has critics.  Everyone has inadequacies.  It's when you can stomp on the insecurities that you find yourself free to feel and express and create. 

You don't have to be the best.  You don't have to be the most eloquent or articulate.  You don't have to be amazing.  You don't even have to be that significant.  You just have to make a connection, have to hurt and hope you learn from it, have to be brave enough to share it with others so that they may learn as well.  We're all so much more alike than we can even comprehend.  Words and sounds and images all send us to the same place, evoke similar emotions, define pain and praise people.  And you don't have to be a wordsmith to strike a chord.

You just have to want to.

the vacant lot

"And I wish that plant life would grow all around me
so I won't feel dead anymore..."
-Owl City, Plant Life

"We're temporary anyway..."
-AFI, I am Trying Very Hard to be Here 

I keep saying it would be nice if I could have been successful at a young age, a youthful entrepaneur or something.  I keep saying it would be nice if I could have fallen in love.  I keep saying it would be nice if I had lost all this weight long ago and never looked back.

My life is not how I pictured it to be.  Sure, a lot of people's aren't but I think it presses down on me a bit more than it might others.  At least that's how it feels.

I think of how much time and energy I wasted on stupid things.  My youth is gone and I have nothing to show for it except stretch marks and a rapidly depleting bank account.

But then I keep thinking about the end of my life and how it won't matter.  The accomplishments, or lack thereof, won't make a difference when I'm decomposing.  The lack of success and notoriety and influence.  The lack of love and overage of love handles.

It would have been nice to have experienced the thrill of passion and exhilaration of adventure.  Maybe it would have given my life some measure of satisfaction and happiness but when my heart stops beating, the money won't matter where I'm going.  The love I shared won't matter where I'm going.  It'll all disintegrate.   

I suppose the influence and impression I could possibly leave behind would have been nice as well but ultimately, I guess that doesn't matter, either.  Some people leave a part of themselves behind for others carry on.  Some don't.  I most likely won't ever get to deposit myself into anyone's heart.  Maybe I'm just one of those who are quietly born, quietly live, and quietly die.

There's nothing wrong with that.  It doesn't mean I never meant anything. 

I was a person at one point.

vestiges of humanity

"I am so scared of what will kill me in the end
for I am not prepared
I hope I will get the chance to be someone
to be human..."
-Ellie Goulding, Human

"I'm not attached to your world
nothing heals and nothing grows..."
-Marilyn Manson, Great Big White World

What does it mean to be human?  Is it our physical makeup, the fact that we get up and walk around on two legs?  Or is it something more abstract and intrinsic?  Is it logic and intricate thought?  Morals and judgments?  Is it love?  Faith?  Boredom?  Is it the invisible wires and nooses or the concrete machinery and hands that hold us to humanity?

Is it textbook or contextual?

I go through periods of wanting desperately to make a connection with someone, to feel grounded to the earth by love and affection and mutual respect and admiration.  There are also periods when I want to be completely isolated and left alone to rot away inside myself.

The unfortunate fact is I usually get my wish when I don't want it.  When I'm by myself, I want company.  When I'm in the presence of people, I want to dash away.

Loneliness once made me its bitch but one day I turned around and drop kicked it into the ether.  I've been better ever since.  That's not to say I still don't feel pangs of loneliness.  It's an unrelenting feeling always scratching at the skin on my chest, begging to get in and make itself home.  But I keep it away with distractions.  I go through an assembly line of lethargy consisting of waking up, eating, Internet, television, eating, eating, pooping, eating, more television, eating, going to sleep, and repeating it all the next day, all in an effort not to face myself or what my life has become.

I'm going to die and it's just not going to matter.  I don't think I've greatly affected anyone and it makes me a little sad to know I quietly slipped into life and will exit the same way.

To some degree, all of our lives are meaningless, at least when you look at the big picture.  The husband who dies doesn't matter to you unless you're his wife.  The child who dies is quickly forgotten unless you're her parent.  We all come and go and the world does not stop to scream and that's okay.

We all can't be in the history books but because I am not influential to anyone in my personal life, my ambition spread to the world.  What if I could impact the masses?  I always hoped I could leave some lasting impression through my art.  But I'm not an artist anymore.  I hoped I could leave a legacy with my writing.  But I'm not a writer anymore.  Okay, so what am I?  What can I do well?  What can I accomplish?  What kind of mark can I leave on the world?  Wait, maybe I need to lower my standards.  What kind of mark can I leave on people?  Still not so sure.

I'm not the boyfriend who taught the girl how to love.  I'm not the child who taught the parents how to think.  I'm not the artist who taught the world how to see.  No one carries me in their iPod or Kindle or in their hearts or minds.

"He's dead.  That's a shame.  Who's on Letterman tonight?"

I've kept my capillaries to myself and consequently, I've converted into a claustrophobic outcast.  I don't know what it means to love another person.  I can relate to people and their situations but beyond that I just don't get it.  What makes you like someone as a friend, as a lover, as a spouse?  I can't comprehend dizziness over another individual, kisses that weaken muscles, love that causes tears.  Is that what being human is all about?  Is it connecting, sacrificing, giving oneself to someone else?  Or is being human a process, a journey of faith and interaction and giving?

I've given humanity a shot.  I've tried to be kind and considerate.  I've sacrificed my own comfort and happiness many times to improve the quality of other people's lives.  I've been respectful.  I've been a team player.  I've hurt with a smile, cried with a laugh, died with a joke.  I've hugged and held hands and kissed and never felt anything but a sweeping sickness in me telling me it wasn't right.  I wasn't meant for it.  Sometimes I keep trying.  But mostly I'm over it.

I cut people out of my life easily these days.  I used to hang on in hopes something would spark but I see now it's mostly useless.  The only genuine relationship I had was something I screwed up, which tells me I am just not capable of maintaining a connection.  If they don't leave me by their own volition, I will force them to with my frustrating nature.

I'm consistently disappointed with people because they do not carry out the roles I have set for them.  It's not their fault and I don't know why I do it.  Maybe because I never had a group of people in my life who came along naturally to fulfill certain needs.  Now, I have to make up for that lost fulfillment by coming across those with roles to occupy.  These people don't know they are playing a part and it frustrates me when they don't act the way I want.  I construct these elaborate dramas to feel included.  To have a story to tell.  To cover up the truth of my deviancy.

"Yes, I've been involved.  Yes, I've had my heart broken.  Yes, I've loved and I've lost.  Yes, I've experienced."

No, I haven't.

Instead, I fall apart and break bonds.

I can't accept anyone for anything other than what I want them to be and that is selfish and shameful.  But no one sees that because I'm playing a part, too.  I take on the role of human, someone who complies with love and decency and understands the value of relationships.  But inside, emptiness is the only thing I understand.

path

I'm not even an outside person but the cool breeze has been so nice I honestly felt guilty for not going outside and soaking it up.  It seems it's hot the majority of the year, freezing for a portion of it, and then there's about two good weeks of perfect weather.  I didn't want it to go to waste so I have been walking outside more.

There's a dirt road next to my house that I walk along.  Sometimes the foliage gets a little overgrown and it does a number on my legs.  Lately, they've been breaking out into a rash (even when I wear athletic pants to cover them) and there's also the occasional douche bag that doesn't slow down when they pass me and it kicks up dirt into my eyes.  But when the weather is cool and the sweat is flowing and no one is around but me and the cows, it's great.

salt soul

I finished Insanity on a lackluster note last week.  I had a lot of plans with people after work and that made it hard to exercise because I got home late and had to be up early for work and I also gave myself the lame excuse that one more week wasn't going to make a difference.  I didn't have a six pack before that last week and I wasn't going to have one after.  I think I worked out three out of the six days I was supposed to, which isn't terrible but I really wanted to finish strong.

Not a great end but the fact that I pushed myself for two months and sweat buckets each time is great.  I have muscle definition in my arms and I can do way more push ups and crunches than before I started and I have way more stamina...ladies.

I want to go back to the 8-week workout I started back in January.  I thought it would be a good idea to cycle through all my fitness programs  but I also want to take a week to do some lower intensity workouts, like my mom's walking DVDs, before I hit it hard again.  You know, something to give the old knees a break from all that Insanity pounding. 

Just for kicks, I popped in my P90 DVD two nights ago and breezed through the workout!  Insanity has really gotten me in better shape.  I remember huffing and puffing through P90 when I did it several months ago but this time around I was really able to keep up.  That was a good feeling.

Don't get me wrong, I'm still tubby and tire easily...just not as tubby and don't tire as easily.  It's improvement and I'll take it!

I've also tried to incorporate walking outside because the weather has been gorgeous lately.  I'll post pictures of my route on my next entry.

I've been a bit more relaxed with my workout schedule.  Since I'm not following any program, I don't feel as compelled to be strict, which is good and bad.  I haven't reached my goal weight so I shouldn't be so relaxed but at the same time, I have worked hard this year and I'm really just taking an easy week or two but I do intend on going hard again, even through Thanksgiving and Christmas.  With my work schedule and family obligations and tons of turkey, I'm sure I won't be able to exercise every day but that's okay.  As long as I keep going.

I think I'll be able to.

It's only the days that I want to exercise that I don't that bother me.  I also need to add that I've been eating badly lately.  Lots of candy.  Slipping in more and more fatty foods.  I need to reel the cheating in big time.  I'm being too lenient with my diet.  I can understand slacking off on the exercise after the boot camp from hell I went through for two months but food should remain non-negotiable. 

So when I eat crap and then don't exercise on a day I'm supposed to, it worries me.  Sometimes I don't get up and go but other times, despite my internal conflict, I push it all aside and just do it.  By the time I've got my shoes on, all hesitation is gone and I'm good to go.

I just feel better when I exercise.  Don't get that statement wrong.  I haven't turned into one of those people.  I don't physically feel better but I do mentally.  It's one more victory, one more fight against the calories I've consumed, one more attempt at creating a balance.  I'm starting to see that every bit of physical exercise is worth it, despite how I felt about the last week of Insanity not making a difference.  Sure, I wasn't going to get ripped but I could have burned off some of those extra candy calories. 

It's just when I wake up in the morning and I'm hurting, when it's difficult to bend my legs to get out of bed, I love it (although it's actually not good because it means I didn't sufficiently stretch) because it makes me feel like I really worked out, really pushed myself.  It's like how I feel when I sweat profusely.  I know I accomplished something.

I also hope some of that salt has seeped past the skin, that a switched has been flipped on, that I'll continue to be physical because I know I need to be.  Food is such a temptation for me and I am still so weak, despite the weight loss, despite turning down doughnuts, I still struggle.  And exercise is a good way to offset the days when I can't say no.  I hope exercising becomes a part of me, something I do regularly.  It doesn't have to be every day but at least four times a week.  And not even every week.  Maybe some days I can do five days a week and others three.  I don't have to be strict about it but I need to be firm, to keep myself accountable and remind myself that I need to get up and go, to feel the fat fall away as the sweat pours out. 

p.a.p.p.

"It's like a splash of water to my face when I suddenly realize
that you could never find a place for me in your eyes
and I don't know why I keep thinking
one day I'll turn around, I'll see your hand reach out
I'm only fooling myself..."
-Kate Voegele, Only Fooling Myself

Work girlfriend blew me off twice in a matter of minutes.  On Tuesday, I said I'd wait an hour after work today so we could hang out when she got off and she said that was good and let me get excited and then said she had other plans.  I told her we could hang out some other time.

Later on, she said she'd wait an hour after she was done with work that day until I got off so we could have some frozen yogurt at a new place that opened up in town.  I got excited again and then a few minutes later she said she had take care of some things and couldn't wait until I was done with my shift.

If she's got plans, that's fine.  I just don't get why she said she'd hang and then take it back.

Yet, last week, she asked if we could do lunch together since we were put on the same shift, which is a rarity.  I said I would but then realized I didn't have to work that day after all (the whole jury duty thing messed up my schedule) but I told her I would go into town and do lunch with her anyway since I already said I would.  I really didn't feel like going into town on my day off but I went anyway.  I didn't take it back.

It was such a small thing but it confirmed to me that she won't go out of her way to see me like I would to see her.  That makes me want to withdraw, to cut off whatever relationship beyond work we have.

It feels kind of silly.

Her boyfriend goes away for work a lot so I think I'm her substitute boyfriend until he gets back.  It's like she's split her boyfriend into two physical beings.  I'm the fun, flirty part of the relationship.  He's the sex and intimacy.  And I understand that we all have our favorites at work and we all play a part and fill a role but she interacts with me outside of work, too.  She texts me throughout the day on an almost daily basis.  She's even told me that she talks about me to her friends all the time.  And in a sightly stunning revelation the other day, she casually mentioned it was her ex-ex-boyfriend's birthday and I said as a joke, "Oh, you still remember?  Still got feelings for him?"

"Yeah," she said.  "I mean, I wouldn't run off with him but sometimes, yeah."

"Hey, now, you're only supposed to have feelings for one guy.  Me!"

She looked at me and smiled and said, "Well, sometimes."

"Really?  I was just kidding.  I meant your real boyfriend."

"Come on, Bran, don't make me blush!"

I'm going to start a campaign called People Against Penis Placeholding, or P.A.P.P. for short.  Kind of like Mothers Against Drunk Driving (M.A.D.D.) but more important.  Please girls, don't do this to guys.  It's hurtful.

I'm starting to see she likes to talk to me or be around me when it's easy for her.  But she wont' bother when it takes effort.  And that hurts.  And it reaffirms my belief that I invest more into people than they invest in me.  And that's why I don't even have relationships with people.  That's why I seem cold and distant.  It's because I don't want to get pulled into something and then torn out of it.

I have to admit, she roped me good.

Makes me want to withdraw from everyone.

I know it's such a small thing but this is the kind of behavior I've gotten from girls...and people in general...all my life.  I'm never special enough to be someone's number one.  I'm the backup.  I'm the guy people talk to when everyone else is busy.  I'm the last resort.  And that's cool.  I accept that.  It's just not fun to be reminded of it, especially by someone you might like slightly more than a friend.

All these little incidences have added up to the point of zero tolerance and all present and future violations against my heart means you're out!  I just don't have the time or temperament to feel crappy over a non-existent thing.  She can sleep easy because she has someone waiting for her when she gets home.  She's got her choice of men, taking something away from a guy who never had anything at all.

I never wanted to be the kind of guy who griped about...girls.  I don't do relationships.  I don't do liking people.  I don't do heart.  That's not me.  And this is a good example of why.  My circuits are sparking and I don't want to talk about her anymore.