6/19/2007
I have a complex.
I like to help. I like to be helpful. I like to listen to people’s problems and be there for people. I like to dole of insightful pieces of advice. It’s my mother inside of me. She liked to fix things, even when her idea of fixing wasn’t necessarily needed nor wanted. Her constant involvement in the inner workings of my brother and my respective lives is evidence of that.
But whatever she had, I caught it.
I like to be needed. It’s how I feel wanted. Girls sometimes dress in provocative outfit for attention. Helping someone out is my low cut shirt. Feeling needed and being the person that they turn to is the attention that I desire.
Its kind of sick, isn’t it? It’s the superman complex. Over and over again, I get involved in relationships with girls that are broken somehow and I feel the need to fix them. They grow enamored with the devoted attention I give them and I grow dependent on constantly being needed and wanted.
I thought I stopped. I really did. After I saw how unhealthy it was, after I realized that the girls that I were with quickly grew detached helpful insights and wise words that I thought I provided, after I realized that people don’t change unless they make a conscious effort, no matter what I say, or do, or show them, after all of that, I thought I had enough.
But I have complex. I need to feel wanted. I need to be someone’s strength. I need to be someone’s hero.
It started off so innocently. I just helped the girl, in a time of need. Anyone would have done it.
And like a recovered addict that has dabbled again in his addiction, the flood gates began to buckle, as the waters behind it swelled. It felt great to be needed again. It felt wonderful to have someone say that she loved me. And after time after time again, I almost let myself believe that it was true.
You can only hear some things oh so many times before they linger and affect you, no matter how high your defenses are, or how sensitive your bullshit detector is.
So now I’m knee deep, stuck in a puddle of shit. In too far to walk back, but I don’t know how long this will go for.
I’ve caught myself in a lie again. But the strangest thing was that I’ve found that I’m the one telling the lies. I used to think I dove head first into things, eyes closed tightly shut.
My eyes are wide open now. And I can see the pavement below. And it is not any softer than the last time I plunged for a dive.
Maybe I need a superman to save me.
White Russian
1 oz. Vodka
1 oz. Kahlua
1 oz. Cream
Tuesday, June 19, 2007
Tuesday, June 5, 2007
forlorn and tired
6/5/07
I was going to start this entry with an elaborate analogy, relating how I feel these days to being adrift at sea and bailing water to stay afloat.
Hmm. Perhaps that description is better than any analogy that I could have written.
It has been nearly two years since my last girlfriend that I had. I’m not sure if I would label it as a relationship. Most of it was imagined mutually. Online conversations and phone calls led to a frantic love in my heart that really had no basis. In hindsight, I should have not been hurt nor surprised how things ended. I try not to hold any regret about it and try and take away the positive, I do regret the decisions that I made. In the end, though, the fault lies with me.
It’s been more than a year since I told someone that I’ve loved them and meant the words that I said. Once again, the last person that I said it to was in the context of a tumultuous relationship where she could not reciprocate. Had she, I’m not sure if I would have believed her.
It is so strange to see things in hindsight. Without the magnitude of passion and emotion that I once felt for these people there, it’s like examining the skeletal remains of someone that was far more beautiful and vibrant when they were living.
I stand, right now, in the center of a whirlwind of change in my life. People around me, the people closest to me seem to be caught up in a storm of change. Relationships ending or beginning, people coming and going — I wonder how long before these winds of change sweep into my life.
So I wait, anxiously, unsure of what tomorrow will bring. My dreams have been plagued these days with unsettling images. Last night, I was among of group of undead. The night before, Bill O’Reilly stabbed my right eye with a tree branch. Tell me, oh interpreter of dreams, what these images foretell of the next breaths that I will take.
My inability to proactively deal with each respective situation has played on my inherent insecurities that I am not a good friend. I feel overwhelmed lately. For each friend that I talk to after a long period of non-communication, I pleadingly ask for them not to have anything amiss in their lives. I feel like I need to take a vacation from my friends. I wonder if I could send them each a card, relaying to them that I will be away for next two weeks and that communication and such should cease unless you are contacted by me or that the situation will lead to your death and/or your inevitable death.
What kind of friend does that make me for thinking thoughts like these? I feel like a fair weather fan, only claiming allegiance to a team when they are winning.
Breathe. Sigh. Relax. Close your eyes.
My phone has rung thankfully little today. Not many people have chosen to message me this afternoon. I don’t have to go to work at the bar tonight, where the inter-squabbling between employees and employees and employees and managers leaves me wondering how quickly the night will come to end.
I am forlorn and tired. Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps friends are what I truly need in my life at this juncture.
Greyhound
1 oz. vodka
Fill the cup with grapefruit juice
Same thing as a cranberry and vodka, except you use grapefruit juice.
I was going to start this entry with an elaborate analogy, relating how I feel these days to being adrift at sea and bailing water to stay afloat.
Hmm. Perhaps that description is better than any analogy that I could have written.
It has been nearly two years since my last girlfriend that I had. I’m not sure if I would label it as a relationship. Most of it was imagined mutually. Online conversations and phone calls led to a frantic love in my heart that really had no basis. In hindsight, I should have not been hurt nor surprised how things ended. I try not to hold any regret about it and try and take away the positive, I do regret the decisions that I made. In the end, though, the fault lies with me.
It’s been more than a year since I told someone that I’ve loved them and meant the words that I said. Once again, the last person that I said it to was in the context of a tumultuous relationship where she could not reciprocate. Had she, I’m not sure if I would have believed her.
It is so strange to see things in hindsight. Without the magnitude of passion and emotion that I once felt for these people there, it’s like examining the skeletal remains of someone that was far more beautiful and vibrant when they were living.
I stand, right now, in the center of a whirlwind of change in my life. People around me, the people closest to me seem to be caught up in a storm of change. Relationships ending or beginning, people coming and going — I wonder how long before these winds of change sweep into my life.
So I wait, anxiously, unsure of what tomorrow will bring. My dreams have been plagued these days with unsettling images. Last night, I was among of group of undead. The night before, Bill O’Reilly stabbed my right eye with a tree branch. Tell me, oh interpreter of dreams, what these images foretell of the next breaths that I will take.
My inability to proactively deal with each respective situation has played on my inherent insecurities that I am not a good friend. I feel overwhelmed lately. For each friend that I talk to after a long period of non-communication, I pleadingly ask for them not to have anything amiss in their lives. I feel like I need to take a vacation from my friends. I wonder if I could send them each a card, relaying to them that I will be away for next two weeks and that communication and such should cease unless you are contacted by me or that the situation will lead to your death and/or your inevitable death.
What kind of friend does that make me for thinking thoughts like these? I feel like a fair weather fan, only claiming allegiance to a team when they are winning.
Breathe. Sigh. Relax. Close your eyes.
My phone has rung thankfully little today. Not many people have chosen to message me this afternoon. I don’t have to go to work at the bar tonight, where the inter-squabbling between employees and employees and employees and managers leaves me wondering how quickly the night will come to end.
I am forlorn and tired. Perhaps I am mistaken. Perhaps friends are what I truly need in my life at this juncture.
Greyhound
1 oz. vodka
Fill the cup with grapefruit juice
Same thing as a cranberry and vodka, except you use grapefruit juice.
Saturday, June 2, 2007
flashes of light
6/2/07
I was carrying around a bucket of ice today and my knee decides to buckle under me.
No warning, no indicator, just intense pain shooting up and down my right leg.
I forget sometimes how easily life can go from nonchalant comfort to intense pain. In my youth and yes I am still young, I get forget the fragility of the human body and the human heart.
But then I turn the corner and Fate, biding her precious time, reminds me.
I apologize to all my friends that are still in my life lately. I am worn. I am weary. I am tired. Lately, it seems that my life has not been a battle of defining victories or defeats, but one of attrition, where the only moral victory that can be claimed is that I made it through the day. Yet still, despite my constant preoccupation, it does not excuse that fact I have not been there emotionally for friends that have already returned that same duty for me.
I apologize, whole heartedly, because as I am growing older and hopefully wiser, I am still learning what it is be a good friend. And I make and will make many mistakes in this learning process.
So many circumstances in my life seem to be on the change these days. I feel the shifting sands beneath me and I wonder, metaphorically, if it was so wise to build my, once again metaphoric, house so close to the beach. I wonder if my foundation is strong enough. I wonder if I am strong enough to endure. I speak my answer, a resounding yes, but in the back of my head I hear the creeping doubts of no’s.
My mind plays tricks on me. While walking to my car tonight, I thought of the regrets I would have if my life ended in that very instant. The aching pain in my knee gave fuel to these sobering thoughts. As I drove home, there were flashing lights over head from thunderstorms rolling through. I morbidly thought of the last moments in Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Was the last thing that those countless people saw just a flash of light?
It makes life seem so trivial.
No matter what I do, fate and time continue tread away slowly but surely. Each breath I take is one closer to my last. My friend sent me a text the other day. She is dealing with the inevitable death of one of her closest friend’s father. Tragic, since her own father passed only a few years ago.
“Is it better to know when you are going to die? I don’t know anymore.”
Either do I. I am still a novice when it comes to dealing with death.
If this is what every blue moon is to be like, I should be thankful that they are so infrequent. Close lids lead to dream plagued sleep and breathless goodnight to anyone still listening.
Blue Kamikaze
1 oz. vodka
1 oz. lime juice
1 oz. blue curacao
Here is a bartender trick. You know how all these bars have these exotic blue drinks? Two words. Blue curacao. Nothing more. Nothing less. Blue curacao is essentially blue dyed triple sec. You can use them interchangeably with any recipe and essentially make any cocktail blue.
I was carrying around a bucket of ice today and my knee decides to buckle under me.
No warning, no indicator, just intense pain shooting up and down my right leg.
I forget sometimes how easily life can go from nonchalant comfort to intense pain. In my youth and yes I am still young, I get forget the fragility of the human body and the human heart.
But then I turn the corner and Fate, biding her precious time, reminds me.
I apologize to all my friends that are still in my life lately. I am worn. I am weary. I am tired. Lately, it seems that my life has not been a battle of defining victories or defeats, but one of attrition, where the only moral victory that can be claimed is that I made it through the day. Yet still, despite my constant preoccupation, it does not excuse that fact I have not been there emotionally for friends that have already returned that same duty for me.
I apologize, whole heartedly, because as I am growing older and hopefully wiser, I am still learning what it is be a good friend. And I make and will make many mistakes in this learning process.
So many circumstances in my life seem to be on the change these days. I feel the shifting sands beneath me and I wonder, metaphorically, if it was so wise to build my, once again metaphoric, house so close to the beach. I wonder if my foundation is strong enough. I wonder if I am strong enough to endure. I speak my answer, a resounding yes, but in the back of my head I hear the creeping doubts of no’s.
My mind plays tricks on me. While walking to my car tonight, I thought of the regrets I would have if my life ended in that very instant. The aching pain in my knee gave fuel to these sobering thoughts. As I drove home, there were flashing lights over head from thunderstorms rolling through. I morbidly thought of the last moments in Nagasaki and Hiroshima. Was the last thing that those countless people saw just a flash of light?
It makes life seem so trivial.
No matter what I do, fate and time continue tread away slowly but surely. Each breath I take is one closer to my last. My friend sent me a text the other day. She is dealing with the inevitable death of one of her closest friend’s father. Tragic, since her own father passed only a few years ago.
“Is it better to know when you are going to die? I don’t know anymore.”
Either do I. I am still a novice when it comes to dealing with death.
If this is what every blue moon is to be like, I should be thankful that they are so infrequent. Close lids lead to dream plagued sleep and breathless goodnight to anyone still listening.
Blue Kamikaze
1 oz. vodka
1 oz. lime juice
1 oz. blue curacao
Here is a bartender trick. You know how all these bars have these exotic blue drinks? Two words. Blue curacao. Nothing more. Nothing less. Blue curacao is essentially blue dyed triple sec. You can use them interchangeably with any recipe and essentially make any cocktail blue.
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