One small step for me.

So my last post was a little....depressing. I thought I would write another in my improved state of mind so here it is.

I came to a calming realization today. I was listening to Neil Degrasse Tyson's radio show "StarTalk" today and was just awed by his intelligence, history, and accomplishments. This got me thinking of the rut I seem to be stuck in at the moment. I then came to the conclusion that I need to do something fulfilling and the sooner I started working on it the better. I have been so stuck in all my past mistakes. Not graduating or committing myself to anything I was interested in. All the time that I have wasted has drawn me into this downward spiral of unhappiness and aggravation I usually can't feel I can escape from. Then I started thinking how much time I have left and the only thing to do is look ahead and get to the place I always felt I have already missed. So starting now I am going to make small, gradual changes in order to achieve the fulfillment I'm lacking. I've been trying to graduate high school for a long while now but haven't fully committed to getting it done. I'm gonna use my time more productively. Read and write for a few hours, play games for an hour. Get something accomplished, go out an reward myself with something leisurely. I'm gonna do this slowly, not drastically as to not get frustrated and discouraged. That's the plan anyways.

I could go on, but I wanna keep these a little short.

Change starts now.

Downer

Man, I haven't blogged in a long while. I've wrote stuff but no venting.

I'm discouraged. Really fucking discouraged. I think I might be feeling worse these days then I did at the bottom of my stay in Vancouver. I was less lonely at least. Most of the time I want to go home. I miss all my friends. I love it here, a heck of a lot. This city is beautiful and stunning. The people I have met are great, but I still miss all the people I love. I'm becoming a recluse again. Not to mention I haven't been without a significant other in more than 2 years and it is daunting. I've somehow let two relationships that were great and would probably have gotten better slip through my fingers. In both cases, as with other things in my life, I am watching myself doing these things but I never tell him to stop. I simply let things slowly cripple until it is ultimately broken, and then I am unhappier than where I started. I am plagued with missed opportunity and a heavy lack of motivation. And the worse part it all is, I have no idea how to fix it. I can't decide if I want to stay here, or am just staying out of stubbornness. How do I know what is the best thing to do? Would I regret starting back at nothing, again? I don't even know why I am here most times. It's doing me no damn good. I have a bullshit job that isn't going to get me anywhere. The only thing I feel good about is being away from all the partying and that fact that I really like living in a city. But what good does that do if I am not happy? I also wonder how much influence my relationships have had on my decisions in the last few years. I like to tell myself it isn't much but I may be in slight denial. I don't even know what to think anymore. Nothing makes sense and I feel like I can't do anything about it. The best damn thing I can seem to do is write a sorrowed blog about it all. That probably just reinforces the whole point.

Someone tell me how to make life easier to manage? Please?

I'll write something less depressing in the future, I promise.

No one will ever forget today. On the table, a newspaper with the headline...

*insert famous celebrity here* has committed suicide after both cell phone and laptop were stolen! The EXCLUSIVE contents on our page 10 spread!

I nearly choke on my coffee as I throw today's edition of the Warrant County News back down on the table. I didn't recognize the name of the person.

"Is this what things have come to?" I ask with leveled frustration to the women across the counter.

"That paper costs money." She replies while anxiously clicking away at her laptop.

I sigh, heavily, and throw some money down on the counter.

"Keep the change."



I walk out of the deli onto Main Street and start heading south towards the river.  I'm not sure which bothers me more, the headline or how rude the women was as I supported what was an obviously failing business for her. Is everyone like this? I think about her life.

Mid-forties, single-mom. Her kids have grown up. She has turned to alcohol, as many in this city have, to deal with the loneliness she feels as her kids are graduating college and getting married. Her hands shake every morning as she runs water through the same coffee grounds for the third time this week. In the beginning she adopted an abandoned dog so she would have something to care for again. It wasn't long until her neighbors called the shelter and got the poor thing picked up. She didn't even notice it was gone. She tried to gather the courage to phone her children but they never answered anymore. It wasn't the first time people had come and taken what she neglected. She woke up and put another round of water through the grounds and hopped on the bus. When she got to work she checked the till but was full aware it was empty. She reaches under the counter and pulls out her old laptop and begins checking her bank accounts, emails, network sites and family blogs. She vaguely notices a man throw a paper on the table across the counter as he mutters something. She mumbles a reply.

I stand onto the railing of the bridge, look down the nearly 400 feet to the river, and throw my plastic coffee cup.

"I bet we don't make the morning edition."

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Hmmm, well that was interesting. I haven't written in months and I kinda like what this turned into from a random writing prompt. I'm not gonna bother editing or proofing anything at all. I'm not sure I even have the skill to. I'm losing my ability to be creative. I might actually be getting dumber.

I find it funny how quickly an idea in your head can totally change over the course of 15 mins and a single paragraph worth of typing. I can't remember at all what I was thinking when I started this but I can guarantee it was nothing like that. 

I really need to do this more. If I did one of these every day I might feel like I was accomplishing something.

Oh well.

Thoughts?






 

Rough Story

I woke up with Greed resting her head on my neck. She gently nudged me and whispered in my ear.

"What do you want most in the world?"

I didn't know how to answer.

"I'm not sure".

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Walking up the cement stairs out of my apartment and feeling the moisture on my skin is always a welcome "Hello". Rain rarely hits the ground in this place. So damn hot all the time. It's no wonder I found a room almost underground. Much cooler in there. I don't even know why this is crossing my mind right now. I should be asking myself how the hell I woke up from what I can only assume was a dream, or at least something I created. The details are fading every second. All I can clearly remember is her face. How amazing she was. The people and the house. I can't recall what it all looked like. The conversations I had. It went all wrong though. Quickly.

I was headed to Mandolins for a coffee, which is something I usually do when I am thinking. Mandolins is a very calming place. A small coffee shop on the corner of my street. I sat down in one of the few chairs. They always have dangerously cute girls working here, who I always feebly attempt to flirt with, usually resulting in disappointment. Too much of artists these girls. I walked to the counter as a young girl I knew came out of the back room with some large boxes in her arms. Her face was hidden but I recognized the smell of her perfume. 

“Hey Jess” I said as I reached across the counter and grabbed a cup from beneath the cashier.

“I get paid to serve your coffee you know, Ethan.” She replied, placing the boxes in front of the coffee makers.

“But I like this cup.”

I filled up my cup with coffee and sat down on one of the stools and looked back up at Jess. She started to unload bags of coffee from the boxes up onto to the shelves above the machines. I have known Jess for years. She had been working at Mandolins for a year when I moved into the city. She is small, thin, with long brown hair. Her bangs are cut short around her eyes. We never spend any time together outside, so I’ve only really seen her wear her green apron and blue jeans. I was pretty interested in her when we met, but after awhile we just kind of just became outlets for each other when we wanted to talk about something. She was the exception to the rest of the girls that hung around here.

“Any luck finding work?” She asked.

She hit some buttons on the till, opened it and then closed it again without depositing anything. I never pay for my coffee here.

“You know I don’t need to work.” I smiled at her and put some more sugar in my coffee.

“It would be good for you. All you do is roam the city. At least find a hobby or something.” She said with a slight smile.

“Roaming is my hobby. A lot of interesting things happen around here.” I replied, grabbing a copy of the The Estis Daily News. I took a look at the front page. In the main column was a picture of a small pile of blue pills. They looked to be the size of a dime and had a symbol carved into the middle of each one. 

“Here we go.” I said, folding out the paper on the counter. Jess began to fill up the coffee machines and I started to read the small caption below the picture.

“Estis City Police have been investigating what appears to be a new pill that is being created in the underground. We have not been able to get any more information from the department but will be making  investigations into the new drug and will report any news as it surfaces."

Note - More needs be added here

I am supposed to be finding some sort of employment, although it is hardly necessary. I have enough money in my account to afford me, along with a few others, a long lifetime of care free living. I always find it unfair that I should be given so much opportunity. All based on chance. Typical story. Born to rich parents. They were killed in an unsolved homicide. When I say unsolved, in no way do I mean that their was ever much of an investigation. I still haven't found out what they did or why they seemed to be victims of such distaste by, well, everyone. I haven't really been all that curious even. Despite all that, the result was me growing up with a very indulgent lifestyle. Never really longing for anything, as almost anything I could think of was easily attainable. I can safely say I've experienced more of what is out there than mostly anyone my age. Which is 18, by the way. It isn't too hard to find time for travel when your name is pretty much paying for your honor roll.

I was walking home from downtown late last night, when I heard raised voices from a group of men one street over. I decided to take a detour in their direction. People fascinate me, and I usually take any opportunity I can to understand how we think the way we do. Just as I was approaching the dim street corner they were standing at, I heard a sobbing voice quietly trying to raise her voice back at the men. She sounded scared.

“Hello gentlemen. Having a good evening?” I said calmly to the back of the first man.

There were three of them. It sounded like a large group of them from where I was standing earlier.
“Things are starting to look up” One of them replied.

I could tell he was already grinning before he slowly turned his head around, locking eyes with me. The man on the right had what looked like a knife in his hand, but I wasn’t sure at the time. I got cautious. Just as I was about to ask them what they had intended to get from conversing with the girl, the man swung at me. I broke his arm in 3 places and grabbed the knife as the other lunged at me. I stabbed them both. One in the femur and the other in the stomach. Just enough so they couldn’t walk.

“What are you doing out here by yourself?” I asked the girl. 

I said it calmly. I didn’t wait for an answer and tossed the knife to the ground by her feet. I started back towards the street I was on. Still about 10 blocks from home. It was getting late. That's when I heard sirens. I sighed.


Now here I am.
I’m waiting for the officers to fill out paperwork and come get a statement from me. As far as they know I had assaulted the men without cause. The girl somehow managed to avoid running into the police. I dont blame her for avoiding them. She knows very well those men that were harassing her are not the only evils in the world. I know this too. After about 45 minutes I hear them finally coming back. I have been smoking cigarettes this whole time. Not that I am anxious, but these dull interrogation rooms bore me. The cops must have brought up the other men’s records. They all got handcuffed and brought to the cells, no doubt with some court orders being written up.

“Your free to leave” The officer said after opening the door. He didn't even step inside.

“Excuse me?”

“Have a good evening, sir” He said and closed the door.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Her breath was cold on my neck. I was shivering as she placed her frozen fingers on the back of my spine, cutting deep into my skin with her nails. Everything was cold except the steady stream of blood between our chests, running down my waist and collecting on the floor. I always knew it would end this way. I fought so hard to avoid it but always knew it would come to this, just as it had all began. A beautiful girl, confused and betrayed. I know she didn't deserve this. Neither one if them did. They were self-less and caring. Thoughtful and intelligent.

I watched the focus fade from her eyes and saw her tears freezing to her cheek.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------
I open my eyes and things begin to focus. I see her. She doesn't belong here and I tell her so. She walks around me without shifting her eyes from mine. Through the green I can see vengeance. She puts her hands on shoulders and leans her head to my ear.

"How can you be so sure?" She whispers.

I reply.

"By the softness of your voice. By the feeling of your rough hands. By the small scar on your neck."

I breathe in.

"And your eyes."

--------------------------------------------------------------------

Change of Heart

Okay, so I was going to take down my last post.  It comes off a fairly arrogant, and I am quite ignorant on such issues.  But, considering I've been using this blog for saying what's on my mind so far I am going to leave it up. For now.

I also might start a new one. Less personal. More about things and issues I'm curious about, but with a little more perspective and planning. My writing will also go there.

I can't remember the last time I put a piece of writing on here, or if I have even but I am going to right now.

This has been a draft for a good 2 weeks now. I kept adding to but stopped about a week ago. Every time I read it I like it more and more. Some of the sentences seem a bit rough though, so I'd like to go back and revise it a bit. Not sure how far I want to take it, but I like where it's going.

Also going to include, afterwards, the dream I had that inspired the piece. Korri mentioned on my FB that I should add on it more but I didn't feel like I should. That changed.

AND it comes to an abrupt halt because it was early morning when I write the last bit.

ENJOY

I woke up with Greed resting her head on my neck. She gently nudged me and whispered in my ear.

"What do you want most in the world?"

I didn't know how to answer.

"I'm not sure".

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Walking up the cement stairs out of my apartment and feeling the moisture on my skin is always a welcome "Hello". Rain rarely hits the ground in this place. So damn hot all the time. It's no wonder I found a room almost underground. Much cooler in there. I don't even know why this is crossing my mind right now. I should be asking myself how the hell I woke up from what I can only assume was a dream, or at least something I created. The details are fading every second. All I can clearly remember is her face. How amazing she was. The people, and the house. I can't recall what it all looked like. The conversations I had. It went all wrong though. Quickly.

I was headed to Mandolins for a coffee, something I usually do when I am thinking. Mandolins is a very calming place. A small coffee shop on the corner of my street. I sat down in one of the few chairs. They always have dangerously cute girls working here, who I always feebly attempt to flirt with, usually resulting in disappointment. Too much of artists these girls.

A few days carried on. I am supposed to be finding some sort of employment, although it is hardly necessary. I have enough money in my account to afford myself, along with a few others, a long lifetime of care free living. I always find it unfair that I should be given so much opportunity. All based on chance. Typical story. Born to rich parents. They were killed in an unsolved homicide. When I say unsolved, in no way do I mean that their was ever much of an investigation. I still haven't found out what they did or why they seemed to be victims of such distaste by, well, everyone. I haven't really been all that curious even. Despite all that, the result was me growing up with a very indulgent lifestyle. Never really longing for anything, as almost anything I could think of was easily attainable. I can safely say I've experienced more of what is out there than mostly anyone my age. Which is 18, by the way. It isn't too hard to find time for travel when your name is pretty much paying for your honor roll.

AND THE DREAM I HAD

I don't quite remember how I ended up in her car that day, I just know that's when it all began. We were going to her house, and had just met. She was a very quiet girl. Small figure, black hair, soft skin. We got to her house and she showed me around. It was like nothing I had ever seen. It resembled an old, ruined castle, with crumbled stone everywhere except where the house stood. A very tidy house, oak doors and tile everywhere. There was one large tower standing. I later learned this is where her room was, and where I would be spending alot of my time.

We had a party that night, with all the people we knew. It seemed strange for her to be hosting a party, for someone so quiet and uneasy around large groups of people. I did'nt drink that night, something was holding me back. The next morning I met her parents. Very nice people. I can't recall the conversations I had with them. I just remember a room, packed full of things. Books, stone and wood carvings, tables and willow chairs. Next thing that comes to mind is sitting on her couch in her room, with her in my arms, being happier then I had been in a very long time. There was something about this girl. Something that makes me just wish I could remember her name, remember the details of who she was. Or to get to know her more. She told me once, that everyday, she would split her hair into a thousand strands and color it peice by peice. I'm not sure why that sticks out in my memory so much.

One day, maybe two weeks after our first encounter, I remember sitting up at the top of that large tower, in her tiny little bed. We did this quite often, although I don't remember anything about these select times. Anyways, she asked me to marry her that day. I can see the look in her eyes, the way she said it, the earnest of expressions on her face.

Why can't I just remeber her name? So many clear memories, but why not the name?


I wasn't sure what to tell her. I could spend the rest of my life up in this tower, with this girl. But marriage? I hated the word. I told her I needed to think, and walked down the spiral stairs into her kitchen. Things went all wrong here. I need to go to the hospital. If I could only explain why.....why I was feeling pain, like my mouth was suctioned closed. Why I needed to leave so bad. She must have heard me of course because she was there right away, as she always was. I was going to call for help, but something told me I couldn't bring anyone to this house. Couldn't share my bliss with the world.

So I ran to the front yard, maybe a vehicle would come. And so it did.

A familar face, asking me how I was doing. I told him I wanted a ride. That I wasn't feeling very well. His response was more than friendly.

"Sure, I'll give you a ride"

It's what he said afterwards that had confused me so much.

"We can take you, but I think your friends too big"

What? The girl? Couldn't have meant her. She needed to come. I couldn't go alone. And then I turned around.

She wasn't there.

Nothing was there. No house. No girl. Not those oh-so-familar oak doors I had walked in so many times.

It was replaced, by a large field, and two of my close friends standing right in front of me. I asked them where she was, where the house was. They gave me puzzled looks and told me they had no idea what I was talking about. That I had been with them for two weeks, watching TV and doing what we always did.

Of course, I didn't believe them. I had been in this house, with this girl.

Bliss.

And now they tell me it never happened.

I argued and argued to no end, until finally....

I woke up.




Amazing how you can have dreams so enjoyable, so full of beauty and happiness, that when you wake up, you almost wish they had never happened. That you did just have a dream of relaxing at a friends.

Something normal.

If I could just remember her name.........


------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Just to be clear, this is an actual dream I had about 6 months ago. If only I could put all the emotions and pictures into writing. This is the best I could do.

Blargh.

So I was sitting at a coffee shop this morning downtown. Grabbed a coffee and read some Vancouver paper. Not sure which one, but their was an article I found interesting.

It was all about East Hastings, and what is dubbed as "Mardi Gras" each month. The last Wednesday of the month to be exact.  On this day, all the people on social assistance get there money for the month deposited into their bank accounts. All the addicts apparently line up behind the ATM's at midnight to withdraw their cash. Along with this, all the dealers loiter outside of the businesses to provide all these people with what they are going to want.  It's a night full of violence, and overdoses and who knows what else. 

Now this fucking infuriated me, reading about this.  Those are my fucking tax dollars.  Being spit out to a bunch of god damn junkies once a month, so they can get fucking high and fight each other.  Now I have a very small amount of sympathy for a select amount of homeless people, situations as they are for some of them.

But not a fucking drug addict.  The only thing keeping anyone from getting addicted to ANYTHING, is a bit of self control.  Now I have my addictions. Warcraft, smoking. But those things, for the most part, are not a detriment to society.  Me personally, possibly. I've done my fair share of addictive substances, and it's not hard to just shrug of the desire to do it again.  Weak fucking people.  Fucking waste of flesh, in my opinion. Mind you, their are worse people in the world. Politicians, President's of large corporations. A lot of them are just plain evil.  Plus when one of these damn junkies overdoses and gets an ambulance to the nearest hospital, well shit, I pay that too.

Here I am, struggling to make an honest amount of cash working at a job I hate, and these bastards are living off what comes off my cheque each month. AND they are spending that money on drugs. Which EVENTUALLY gets back into the system from the head guys buying toys, but it also fuels drug wars, gang crime, and a whole other lot of violence.

Like I said, no fucking sympathy. Let these people die. Fuck giving them clean needles, in less that's for the safety of the rest of us, I haven't really looked into how that works.

Anyways, it made me fucking livid reading that article.  

And I've yet to go see Hastings. I plan to soon though.

Sad when Social Networking Sites Start to Breed Almost Nothing but Hate

Yes, I mean you Facebook!

But I'm not gonna talk about that because, frankly, I don't have the energy for it.

Things are going....badly. 

I'm working almost no hours. I go in for my shift, it's slow, they send me home after an hour. Get 5 days off, then the same thing. Bastards.

I have a job interview next week so hopefully that goes well, and I can get some more cash rolling in.

But as of right now, and I doubt this is going to change, paying rent is virtually impossible. I have no idea what the fuck I am gonna do. 

I keep going over the positives and negatives of my situation. Or rather, why I want to stay and why I would like to go back home. Reasons prompting me to go back home I've pretty much discussed already.  Being lonely, bored. Having nothing change except paying a lot more than I should for where I live, and making a whole lot less money than where I previously was employed.

Reasons prompting me to stay. Well, the first thing is, I do love this city.  I love the energy, and the people, and the culture. I love being close to all my old friends. I love having SOMETHING be different. Those are the positive reasons.  I also feel this obligation to myself that if I left I would see it as a personal failure. Something that I usually wouldn't consider on making a decision for anything. I don't find pride to be a very important thing.  But it would be that way, though I'm sure not too heavily.  Another is the fact of how much money my Father has supplied me with.  He just bailed me out of rent, again, for this month.  Add that to my car plus the money he gave me when I left, it's about 3500 dollars or more. Probably a lot more.  Now I know he wouldn't hesitate for a second given the idea of me coming back. Might even prefer it. But I can't escape the fact that it's a lot of money He or I could have used for something else, whatever that may have been (Is it bad to start a sentence with "but"?). 

The whole mind set every seems to think I should have is that "It'll get better". But really, it's not going to any time soon.  Almost every single job I see requires some type of experience or qualification.  I should have got my schooling done.  I could have been more prepared.  And all the jobs that are returning my e-mails/calls tell me it's pretty much for the Olympic rush and that's probably all.  We will see.

Oh, and another thing on my staying list. Angela is really fucking awesome to live with. It is very convenient that I've been able to get a room mate I get along with. 

But still, I feel like I want to go home. Maybe just homesick, maybe just stressing.  I can't even afford to get to work tomorrow. And my fucking car is dead again, though I may be almost out of gas anyways.

Wonder if Angela has jumper cables?

Fuck.

ON THE PLUS SIDE!

I'm  going to Microsoft's Vancouver studio next Thursday for an hour long play test session.  Get to play some unreleased/early build games, and give feedback on my experience so they can assure quality. I'll make a whole post on that experience when it happen though.

Blargh. I'm not enjoying this.