TL;DR – I’ll miss you girl. RIP Puppy.

I remember when we first got her. She’d been drawn out as the scrappy one from the puppy mill, she was cheap but “full blooded”. Her tail was cut to the bone and the ghetto stitch work only made it harder to keep clean.

As she grew into adult hood, the physical characteristics of her breed never appeared. Her muzzle was narrow, her chest/neck only showed a small patch of white, her nub of a tail – was seriously nubby, and she was small – always too skinny and small to be recognized as a “Boxer”. But she made up for it in style. She slept face up in a warm sun under the shade, hunt pigeons for fun, fight for her puppies, and sat on her blanket to eat.

Soon she’d learn from her mate to do what a good dog does. Keep an eye on the house and on the kids. They lived happily and had puppies. In her first litter there were 5 healthy picture perfect babies, who would be the reason for 3 of the nastiest dog fights I’d ever witness. All of whom played out like this. The boy, out of curiosity would always try and find the puppies when she would go out of the house to eat/poop. if she saw him anywhere other than in the little cage area of the back yard… it was ON.  [he never seemed like he was going to do anything to them other than say hi – I’d seem him like one as to say hello. but who knows maybe he was tasting it.].

She would growl, then bark, then sprint towards him with teeth ready to kill. I just remember seeing her with red eyes, being pinned by the throat as her large headed man tried to control her. She’d then slip out of the choke by twisting her torso and biting his floppy ears. That’s when the guy didn’t give a fuck and humans had to intervene as we knew that they were fighting for blood or something worse… They were full sized adults by then. It’s weird how dogs lift off into the air swiping with their paws, landing on their side, quickly getting up to then snap at the muzzle/neck of the other. The boy was always the one to get the worst of it, I’m guessing he never locked his jaw. He clearly always had the upper hand, as he was stronger and faster, but that bitch kept going over and over.

From then on we knew what to do whenever she had babies. The second litter was only 3 but they were cute and went fast. The last litter wasn’t as nice. It was a hot week in July/August when she went into labor. Those puppies were small. I remember seeing them all of them a little small. It wasn’t long before we knew there was trouble. She had six. 3 passed. For all of them she wouldn’t let us approach she’d push us away and block the entrance. The last one to go was the worst. That day we knew there was one in there and for a few hours we tried to coax her out. Finally around sundown when the sun is just past the mountain, she came out. When we got up she ran back to her babies. I went inside and saw the rest from the window. She came outside and with the gentleness that only a mother can have, laid her puppy on the grass by my mothers feet. She stepped back and they [my mom and dog] looked at each other. My dog turned back to the rest of the litter and my mom teared up.

You should never compare a shitty mother to a bitch.

A year later her mate would die from a brain tumor.

She would become top dog, alone. She would be there for anyone who wanted to play. She was amazing with kids.

Later after I’d come back from phoenix and by a misinterpretation we’d end up buying another dog. I think this really helped her revitalize the more I think about it.

But she was old and knew of a more amazing mate than this smaller idiot of a dog. Seriously, her first mate was smarter, bigger, and way more obedient.

But as all creatures in life, she grew old. I only noticed her failing hips when she gradually stopped climbing on me, her cataracts as she would stop running in the dark for supper, her deafness when she stopped barking when I’d have to go thru the back door on drunken nights. And finally her pain of the tumors. She’d lost weight, ate slower, would avoid being touched on her right side, and she slept and slept and slept. Her tears just kind of became crusted over her eyes.

It was about two weeks ago that she’d finally conceded to being petted on her right. She just snuggled against me, I’d feel it and you could feel that sharp sour pain she must have had. I knew it wasn’t long before I’d have to hug her on a vets table.

These last few weeks were rough. But I tried to make it her best. I owe that much to her.

One thing that will always stay in my mind is what I guess all dogs give their owners. The love and loyalty of true friendship.

Over the past days I’d pet her and groom her and she’d just be quiet with me. She was weak and must have known more than I did because any time I’d get sad and started to tear up she’d look at me, with the biggest most loving eyes and one of those calm happy dog smiles, kind of saying “don’t worry, we’ll be alright"

I know you will be, I know I’ll be.

Girl you’re in doggy heaven now right with your boy and lost puppies. Hopefully you’ll remember us as good people and loving owners. I will miss you.

The King of Pop has Died.

It wasn’t long ago that the vision in my head was still alive.

Be it a de javu; random incling; or maybe i’m making shit up. Either way, I remember the picture and thinking…. The king of pop has died. 

http://pics.livejournal.com/zarex/pic/0006e3kf

I’ve just been keeping it real and losing pounds. I feel the same. I guess it’s me that can’t get chicks. Oh God why can’t I get chicks?! Fail Wail. Get it?

I can only say that I don’t like to get stared at by creepy old ladies that think they have a shot at a good fuck. Cause you know. Old ladies can settle with a lot of stuff. I hate wal-mart.

I feel like I need to write more. I guess it’s my head telling me to get some food in it. I’ve been slacking it in the school department. I can only say that there is going to be a hill to climb. A tall rocky, sandy, hill. Yeah, that I’ll conquer on my mtn bike.

There has been a lot of changes recently. But I do feel like myself. Just with more composure because I manage to think before I speak, it feels like I can say a sentence and make some dialogue. I’m thinking it’s because of twitter. People forget that a single sentence can hold a harsh meaning. It’s perfect for people who live their lives on “quotes”. Either get some meaning behind those things or RTFM and find out why it’s so bad ass. That’s really what’s frustrating me, I just feel like I can’t do what I want because of my parents. Then I realize I don’t have anywhere else to go… But let’s not confuse thinking with being a pussy.

Good times.

I’ve had them, but nothing beats a BBQ…

Who’s down? I’m up for whatever.

Doin’ thangs.

That’s all I’ve been doing. Discovering doing stupid shit and pretending that no one is watching. But they are. Everyone is watching. At all times. They are the one’s who start the talking. You’re just around listening to the music when they start to talk.

Then, you’re given a task to do. Why? I’m not sure, but they go up to you and start talking .Why are you talking? Do I know you? When is the last time we talked? There is nothing to say then. Nothing to say unless…

Unless you’re a jackass like me. I try to be cool with everyone that at least gives that bullshit smile. Everyone that gives you an eye that you’re just not into…. Yeah, that’s them. Those people that are too “curteous” and “respectful” to tell you what you both know. You both know there is no reason to spend time with people you don’t want to get to know.

But I’m a nice guy!

At least until I start smoking cigarettes and drinking drink. Then everything turns loose. My honesty get’s me in trouble.

When you light up right before talking to a bitch your friend loves…. That’s when you know that you can either blow the smoke on you or on her. It’s up to her to realize that nothing was said other than, how are you? Was it my fault that I’m trying to be friendly?

Am I the one with the problem? Do I want to make friends with people that look me in the eye and smile? Are they faking that smile?

But that’s me. An honest guy.

I <3 Getting Older.

I was born a bad guy.  Bad guys always lose. It’s up to me to change it. Every action leads to an equal but opposite rxn.I rather work hard to change it, than to plateau at some mediocre level. After all, I am the good guy, don’t good guys win all the time? After all,I have nothing to lose now. After all, I still have the deck in my hands. Because once you start winning at your own game, that’s when progress is made. But, what work should I do? I know the answer, but it’s that I don’t have the desk.

Jesus, someone get me a desk from school…

Best birthday present ever…

Just being me. On paper, and out loud.

What I am.

To be honest, as a kid I didn't use my imagination. There was too much to learn for me to pretend that something's there that's not really there. I didn’t really need that though. I had everything I wanted, was content, and knew the value of something special. There was too much to conquer right in front of me.

It’s always been like that. I just need that spark. That one thing that can lead me to believe that it will be worth while. Right now there’s only a few things that can lead me to those great endeavors. My personal gain, money, and women.

But as proposed from the top, my endeavors are hardly up to par with the sadness of challenges.

It always makes me sad to see a challenge. I’m not sure why. But that’s the overall feeling I get, quiet, yellow, sadness. I can only be productive when I’m pissed or when I’m sad. To better myself I offer myself the challenge to be a victim. Offer myself the challenge to be the loser. But, at what cost? To work completely and say fuck you to the world. Or Come out and “a chingasos” beat the shit out of it…

The challenge. Become somebody, or become somebody’s bitch.

I think I’ll become somebody. Whoever I am. (-:

[Challenges are a peculiar thing.]

Live Life

If living life passionately requires any special ability, it’s the ability to live for life.

Sadly my passion I was living for, left me. She was my passion and inspiration, a whisper of her – made me happy. Yes, she was, through and through. All of my love and passionate ability, gone. Luckily I have a rag-tag team of !!Good Guys!! who can just about solve anything that matters. … But I digress, or should it be depress?

Depression made me realize I really am not a depressed person, but I do like to prepare for the worst. I am not a nice guy, but if you treat me nice I’ll treat you nicer (Ladies?!) And far and foremost, I am my Parents son, I guess I’m the bad parts of them. [Did I mention that I am a lesbian woman inside? But that’s another post.] Overall, a learning experience.

So, sadly and jointly I began a quest to reveal who’s really there, I mean, the whole city had just collapsed and reconstruction was being paid for in friendships, shots, family, beer, bad rally calls, smoke, shit talking, rap, money, hits, my image. Stranded and stained, I lost focus.

Later I began to come home. And, realize some important shit.

Later, I began to come home. And, realize some important shit.

It felt good. Even with shame, I knew she was out of my system. I was who I was and there’s only one way up. So I started climbing towards a Greek perfection. So I keep climbing.

I am not at the summit, nor do I think I’ll ever get there until I’m out and about. Out and about doing? Doing, finishing, it’s all the same to me right now. I’m living life.

I’m living with no passion though… That is where things like school and a possible future keep driving me. That’s what I like doing, and thanking my friends and family for being there.

The Passion of LIVING. Is that so wrong?

As for her, she still sits as a big part of my life, not only because she was around for so long, but because I came out with something more than just anguish. Anguish I would have felt if we had married now or later. I came out with the ability to breathe and depend on myself to make me feel okay. [Personal note: If I could talk to her, I would, but my failed attempts at communication are all I’m able to invest my time in. And they’d be questions about how good a lover I was.   :-P      ]

Finally, I’m just beginning trying out my new and improved self. Trying to fix some shit from people in the other time period was sooo last year. Writing this, I am trying to avoid the same mistakes [unless you believe anti-provocation can lead to direct provocation, but I think that mentality is backwards] and trying to slow down, to take it all, and observe what is really going on to solve some problems. Solving problems, it’s what I do.

I just say, live life.

What I think about in the shower.

(The longer you flow, the more lost you'll get. It's important to remember how long you’ve had to explore and that most times it’s easyer to work than to work for something you’re not wanting.)

Finding that reason to keep going. That’s what drives me. I’m positively parabolic and there is few things that I can take. What I leave is only up to me and no longer her.

 

It’s alright to laugh, I think it’s funny too! (0:

I also figured out I’m a SMRT know it all, but who hasn’t?

Smile, it’s only beginning.

Just gotta keep goin'

My heartbreak isn't original. Nothing about this is. People have written, spoken, and acted about this grief. That's what it is, grief. But it's not original. There's nothing original about it. The only variables that change are the names and characters. But this feeling is universal. Some people choose to hide it, others choose to abide by its rules. I'm choosing to be a little bitch and do neither. I have to let it go. But I can't. Yes I can. I really can. But I can't do it. Not yet. Soon.

I could argue have argued that it was meant to be. I could argue have have argued that it wasn't our time. I could argue have argued that too many things added up, and that the universe and all the stars in the galaxy line up perfectly now so that the little things remind me of what it used to be. Of what I still feel it HAS to be. But, what for? No one will listen. No proof of the concept, no genuine knowledge. Just a feeling, some certainty, and a whole lot of observation. Wasn't that good enough for love before?

What changes is the person. What's unique is the interest. What's unique is the idea of "maybe".

Maybe isn't in my language. I'll have the last laugh, probably though...

I have to let myself let go. At least the stuff that I can't change. But I'm a believer of "everything is possible". I guess I'll have to believe that only the person will be able to see. But that's just hope. Hope isn't good for coping. Hope is what you have when you have nothing left. I have nothing left. Hope isn't cutting it for me. What I need is to stop looking around, look inside......

I've already looked, everything is still the same. Having to erase it from the most important parts is like having to erase part of myself. A true part of myself.

What do I do now? I'll say it again, back to square one.

That's why I feel broken. I guess now, my eternal struggle for self realization starts?

Like Einjo said, "That sucks man. I hurt for you. I've seen it plenty of times too. Never have I seen it hurt someone as much. Never ever did I think that something like that could happen so well formed. It's like someone was playing with the pieces. Kind of like a movie, but more fucked up. But I'm not going to lie, I have seen something like this before plenty-a-time. It always sucks, not like this though. This sucks the worst, not only because you're my friend, but because you can tell. I like to call it, "The world crashing down on you." But this is different. It feels kind of like when you know it isn't supposed to happen like this, but it does. Really though, I think you've officially won the worst luck."

 

Luck is a bitch. Fate is what you call it when you can deal with it.

I still need some last words to some people.

Those people know who they are. Those people need to at least give me a signal. Those people are just dodging me for some reason.

Those people aren't cowards, she just moved on.

Until then. Adieu.

Battle of the Verts

I just read an essay about introverts and extrovert

http://www.pickthebrain.com/blog/introverts-extraverts/

As nice and compact as it seems, I can't get myself to fit into any one of those catagories.

I tend to be introverted, but when put on the line I am extraverted and enjoy it. But, I always get my best thoughts alone and when I'm inside of my own head.

But then again, when I get new ideas, I'm always with new people, people I met by being extroverted....

 

And the loop can go on forever.

That's the thing about life, it's way too complicated to be put into black or white, 1 or zero, on or off. I think that essays like this try to define certain principles, but we humans are too awesome to fit into one mold.

I guess, there's always exception to the rule.

Ohhh, a wise guy (girl) aye?

So today at work. A friend told me, "It's because guys don't know what girls want." I went ahead and explained that we don't know because.....I don't know, some bullshit.

The answer is, we're all people here. Everyone wants their partner to be able to put up with their bullshit. Whatever it may be. Those insecurities and faults, someone that will go ahead and put up with them. Someone that will love them for being so broken and ugly.

The people that refuse to admit their flaws, those are the people that don't get it. Those are the people who aren't complete and are usually unhappy. Those are the people you can't be with.

 

I'd go ahead and explain further, but there are so many variables to explain and inside set molds there is always exception to the rule. So lets do what everyone else likes me to do, and poke fun at myself.

I'm too nice.
Niceness won't get me chicks, this is because some girls don't like a guy who will put up with everyone's shit, not just theirs. So I'll become COMPASSIONATE in those girls eyes.

I lack confidence.
[secretly I don't, I'm humble and right now I believe there are so many things that haven't been solved that I can't fake it.]
Confidence shows some chicks that the guy is able to face adversity and will face any challenge. I lack it, therefore I can't possibly do any of those things. So, I'll be a JERK to those girls.

I laugh too much.
Who doesn't like laughing? Although, I have a deeply sarcastic, dark, satirical sense of humor that sometimes I think only people in the crazy house will understand. So, I'll just be TYPICAL to those girls

I'm too smart.
I can't really do much about this, I just need to be stupid I guess. I'll just avoid the stupids and be as collected as I can with the smarts and overall be UNSMART to those girls.

 

The thing is, when is the last time that a guy said, "I just don't know what I want in a girl."

Snuff n' Stuff

Just been hanging out. Getting scared shitless of the unknown the unsolved and the things to come.

We're growing up, we find reasons to look typically older, wiser, and sometimes harder. That's why we picked up dipping, but I have to be honest, sometimes it tastes terrible and my mouth blisters up. Am I older now?

It's funny to see us do it, because we know why we even do it. This self mutilation almost, gives us a sense that we are better than that. We are doing it to experience it now. To tell the story to those that will learn from it, and to motivate others like us that have to experience it to believe.

It's not something that we do consciously, it's not something that we want either. It's who we are, we choose to live simply and vividly at the same time. Living on the edge some say, we're just doing it for the ride.

(-;

Trying to be happy...

Fuck, if there was a better time for time to just fly by, it's now. I want school to start, I need something to keep me productive and stop with all of this self pity and over analyzing and over thinking and over and over and over and over! Enough!

The think is, I got a text, a simple text asking for my career advice. I couldn't just wave it off, I had to respond. I had to make myself seem cool and collected. But every time I was called, a strike to my gut. Every time she said my name, a blow to my heart. I got depressed that night.

But, thanks to a great friend, we challenged ourselves to get something out of our problems. To do something and stop with the worry. As we poured our hearts out, I knew that I wasn't alone. She wasn't me, I wasn't her, and that time WILL help.

As I told others of my sorrowing experience. Everyone said the same thing as my friend, angrily and hastily, "WHY?! Hasn't she done enough?" "Maybe she's not over it either. The only reason she made contact is because she's afraid she might have made a mistake."

And yeah, typically that's what would happen. But, I don't want to think that, I have to keep my guard up, I can't let the shred of hope and probability be my salvation. That's no anchor and it wont fly IRL. But, I did learn that I have awesome friends around me.

The only way I can do these things is just to avoid it all together, there's reason to my madness. I just don't want this to be, "Well, dude, maybe you're the one that's fucking scared and blah blah blah, and you're the one that can't get over it and blah blah blah." "And the anchor is just you being a bitch."

STFU. It's not that simple. I HAVE faced my problems, I HAVE found a reasonable solution, this just 'dropped me down a peg'. I was doing so well, Living my life, having a great time. I didn't need this. Not now. I didn't ask for this.

[the thing is, I already started doing this, that same night as I talked to my friend, I was already feeling better, I was already wanting to keep going where I was. This is just a manifestation of thoughts finally brought to the attention of my life's timeline.]

Carlos on love.

LOVE, I've spoken, written, and lived it.

Recently I saw a TED talk on love. Helen Fisher's presentation on love. http://blog.ted.com/2008/07/the_brain_in_lo.php

It blows my mind. Love that is. The thing about the whole presentation it gave a feeling that I, like so many others, already knew this. Us who have loved, we knew it all. But someone putting all of this into a scientific work, that's all I needed to know. I needed to know that it IS normal to feel like this. It's not just my ability to get.... crazy. It's not just me.

Looking at all of the facts and stuff. I am glad I love, I am happy to have understood that feeling, that instinctive-primal-disorienting-incomprehensible-yet-universal feeling. I love love.

I used to say that one of the most important and powerful words that I hated using, was love. It was because I didn't fully understand that no one really understands, and I will never be able to completely explain love. It's something that has to be experienced before you fully realize its beauty.

I had an idea of its power when I was younger. I said,  "It's over used, it's too powerful to be tossed around so sparingly." And I would get angry at people who said, "I love so-and-such"

Is it too valuable to cheapen with improper use? Should it be used to describe the feelings you have for, Action Bubble's scum-scrubbin-bubble solution?

Personally, I feel that there shouldn't even be a word to encapsulate such a broad term. But, if love doesn't exist, what does?

All hail the robot overlords.

It's amazing to me of how much of my adolescence was a blur. Oh sure, I learned a few things. Don't do this, don't do that. Know your limits, understand what's said to you the first (couple) times, Hygiene is your best friend, science doesn't (for the time) hold all the answers, etc, etc.

Looking back at the past 10 years, half of my life, very few things stand out. Even fewer make me happy; Melina, stupid shit with my family and friends.

Looking at the details, I learned, relearned, then learned that what I just learned, at times, is completely wrong (or at least partially).

Still, I probably wouldn't make any changes to what I did. Because of my natural need to understand and wonder and laugh, I genuinely like the person I am.

Oh sure, I tend to have my moments of pessimism and downright depression. But how many people don't? How many people let that shit take over and screw them on a daily basis? Hopefully more than I think.

Right now I feel like everything I've learned to this point makes sense, everything I've come to understand and connect as logically as I could makes sense.

If you ask me what it all means, I couldn't tell you in a single sentence, I'd probably never would be able to tell you, just somehow, some way, you'd just have to understand. You'd have to understand, at least, that there is no definitive answer, and that the conversation would never end. The amazement and wonder, the learning and understanding, the ohhhhh and ahhhhh, the observation and association is never subsiding. Because some of the best stuff doesn't make sense.

 

Recently, I spoke with a friend.
She sent me a txt asking for MY opinion on a short blurb on happiness.
As much as I tried to make a logical argument in 140 characters or less, I couldn't.
As much as I tried not to say something, amazingly lighthearted or amazingly pessimistic, I couldn't.
As much as I tried to let my emotions flow, I couldn't
As much as I tried to let me say, "Happiness is easy to figure out, your heart knows what REALLY makes you happy." I couldn't

Probably, because I haven't been happy in (what seems to be) such a long time.

Probably, because happiness is as fucking non-complicated as love is. And we all know how easy it is to understand any of those human things.

All hail the robot overlords.

[I'm an idiot for not saving the txt. My phone was pissing me off because it kept saying that I had an unread message. But NOOOOOO, I just had to be OCD and make sure the little envelope icon was clear before I went back to work. So I deleted all of my texts. FUCK YOU crappily programmed phone!]

 

[[THEN, she say's I probably didn't understand what she meant! No one tells me I can't understand something as uncomplicated as happiness/girl emotions! *shakes fist* (-: ]] <<<LOOKS LIKE A HAT!

Comment from a Student

So, we were having a nice little lunch. My Mom + Dad, Sister, and me. My sister kept saying, "So, when are you going to shave and cut your hair," and so on. I kept making lame excesses, but never really had an answer better than, in Homer Simpson fame, "O-ummm-oomm?" [I don't know sound].

Anyway, my dad finally had enough of our childish banter, and said, "He's depressed." 

This comment gave me chills, I laughed in nervousness, hoping that I really wasn't, hoping that he doesn't read my blog. Most importantly, hoping it wasn't true.

"Well, mildly depressed." He said. "Mildly depressed people often do things like that, to be avoided. It's in my psychology book."

We laughed, and smiled.

To my sister and me It was apparent, I am mildly depressed.

That's fucked up.

Now I really want to go cut and shave.

The Loser.

(I sent this to Melina late one night. After hanging out with friends and realizing that some girls are bitches, but Melina never was, and I hope she never will be.)

 

I think that's why we got along.
IT was because you understood the "Loser". And if you didn't you'd try and figure it out.
But how could you do it? Was it that you too were a loser?
No, she's too beautiful/classy for that.
Then what was it?
She knew how to feel. She knew every feeling. But most, even if she didn't understand it completely, she loved. Harshly.
But, what if all she thought was torn away?
"Fuck it" is all she said.

At least that's what I saw. And I liked that she knew when I'm getting into it, too far into it.
And she'd say.
"I love you, but take a break and be mine for a while"
And that's what I'd do.
She understood the "Loser"

LOL!
I didn't what to trip you out.
I hope you're living well and happy.
I hope you've found what's been missing.
I hope you're doing exactly what makes you happy and elated.
I hope you don't take this in bad nature.
I hope you don't realize I'm a terrible person.
I hope you didn't leave me for someone else.
I hope you will still be, for the time at least, be my friend.

(-:

[txt me when you see this, txt me lies and say you understood. also, text me if it's cool if I blog this.]

My writing

There's a point when I have an epiphany to write. I'm always in constant dialogue with myself. More often than not, though, when I write, I write in a sort of prepackaged-edited way.

The thing is, I often times have a great epiphany to write, I have it all set out, then when the finger meets the keys, they start to fade away. All the thoughts and structure all goes away. I try to type as fast as I can, but I can only reach a few ideas and writing about the crumbs, not the cookie. I manage to vaguely talk about one subject/idea that I had cooked up.

It all disappears, kind of how when you wake up from a dream, you rush to recap, then it slowly fades.

It all disappears, you expect the best, try to call out the future, then it all crumbles away.

The thing is, when I do manage to put the exact copy from my brain on to the table, it's not organized or as elegant as it seemed.

story of my life.

I love and stuff.

Even during the best of highs, the lowest of the low.

Love the one that may meet you half-way, the one that even if the chick from whoresville-that-you-wouldn't-mind-doing was down. And while avoiding all temptation AND hope. You can't stop but to wonder. Because knowing she's not there makes it all go away. You realize you still love her. The way you did from ultimate beginning and end.

 

Poetry slam, you're mine.

Trying something new.

1ad, this is the tag on my flickr profile... www.flickr.com/photos/kumaku

that's the tag for the shots that I take for my little personal project. It came to me in a dream almost. It was one of those dreams when all you do is talk. I remember hearing, "You can practically save your entire life in pictures now." So I got an idea to take a picture of something for that day. Being no professional photographer, it will serve as a visual timeline for me.

I'm still feeling wierd about melina, I still have dreams when I wake up hoping she is there still. I still wake up knowing nothing I can do will change much, all I want though is to be able to get up and run. Run for the sake of running, running for a purpose, to find some place where I can just be.

So that's what I'm going to do, I'm going to run. Run or cycle.

 

Recently too, I've been driving, walking, bicycling, running faster than normal. I don't want to know how it relates, but fuck it, I'll figure it out later/eventually.

If you want to be happy...

..For the rest of your life, never make a pretty woman your wife. In my personal point of view, get an ugly girl to marry you.

Well, at least a decent one. Not the pretty one that you had once and can't get out of your head.

I think that's what I need. A pretty girl with an ugly girls' personality. Or maybe an ugly girl with a nice rack. Either one is a-o-kay.

Well, it's official, little girls don't like me.
"Mommy, who's that?" [aww, my coworker's daughter takes interest in what mommy does.]

"That's Carlos." [so mommy says]

"Oh" [....and, you might be, cute little girl?]

"I don't LIKE Carlos" [WTF! WTF little girl?!, who said you were so awesome, well, you are sporting that lovely pink sweater]

(I make a degrading joke and go back to work with tears in my eyes)

But seriously. If I didn't have such a good sense of humour I'd be in shambles and expecting an apology and maybe a card, and those really big smarties.

Going to the gym is a huge obstacle every day, always that burden for me, but I know I have to go, it makes me happy when I go. I need to get a calendar or something so I can do something after, I feel if I cross out each day it will go faster somehow.

 

I just dialed Melina's number by mistake/habit. After doing so, I didn't feel like crying or anything. I guess I'm slowly, slowly, slowly "getting over" it. Though, I know this will ultimately haunt me, and will never leave me. But at least I won't be fazed when I see her driving or something. I'm better than that.