A Hop to My Step

That's me. (Actually, that's Jason Biggs, but still.)

It’s in rather unexpected moments of “defeat” that one usually finds some sort of silver lining. Granted, the past week has not been distinct over the previous ones, nor has there been some earth shattering incident that incites some new era of prosperity here in my part of the world. No real clear path to recovery, not yet at least, but the stringing together of certain events somehow tied up into something that while not altogether optimistic, still was a telling sign that there may be something salvageable here.

From a familiar face in a job interview, to a stranger with another somehow wayward comment, a chat with an old friend and yet another night in a strip joint leaves me with a feeling that maybe I am where I’m supposed to be. Whether that is a good thing or not is still up in the air, but it’s still something right? A potentially good thing over the horizon is better than nothing at all, I guess.

Watered Down

NO, I wouldn't go this far... or this lame.

Before I get down to the nitty gritty of this week’s lactating titty of life, I’d like to thank Jo for the kind words.(Found conveniently in his blog, http://blinkandyouwillmisseverything.blogspot.com/2010/01/enter-sunrise-shotgun.html) While I don’t want this to be some sort of public display of mutual admiration easily mistaken to be a legitimate bromance, I’d like to state that it’s not often I receive any form of praise, especially for having a sharp tongue (especially from a guy) so it’s appreciated.

Kind words and a few cheap laughs are all I have these days, when I can’t even have a drink to soften the blow of the real world. (I did have one bottle of beer sometime in the weekend, and for those who’d like sneering “I knew he couldn’t do it” well, fuck you. One bottle of beer that I nursed for nearly an hour after a year of getting drunk nearly everyday? Try it, motherfuckers.)

The Inevitable Arrives.

My aftermath isn't this cool, nor as dramatic.

There’s music playing in the background, as always, as I write this. I’m afraid the whole party is over, and I’m at some sort of crossroads wherein perception and reality met for one last time, exchanged fighting words, and perception went down in a battle that had left me tired and a little broken in ways that may or not may not be fixable.

I’m rambling again. It happens a lot more often these days. I guess it’s sobriety talking. If you’re in a hurry and do not wish to read through a thousand or so words of my inane drivel, here’s the summarized version: I had another attack, and I have made the conscious decision to give up drinking and all of my other vices.

I’ve you’ve got the time though, read on.

The Color of Chaos… or the shitty shit that went down this week.

I’ve actually got my fingers crossed while I’m writing this. Like I said, last week’s post (an actual “happy post) pretty much got shat on when my browser decided its an absolutely wonderful time to fuck me over. Typical. A guy gets giddy enough to write something quasi-positive and gets reamed.

Of course, after the wonderful birthweek craze, things somehow sorta made it’s way into the same old dismal routine. The revolving door of alcohol, empty and excessive labor peppered with just a slight hint of bright moments that is my life continues to spin.

Lame post.

A couple of days ago, I had a lengthy post about how several people had made my birthweek a truly wonderful experience, considering the circumstances. It was full of feeling, and for the first time in several months it was actually full of optimism, but I guess it just not meant to be as this site acted up and ate up my post, never to be seen again.

Hell, I even had an elaborate reference to Angel, comparing the huge final day of training to the last episode of the series. I have to say, it was pretty well written. Anyhoo, I might as well move on, yeah?

Hand over the cheese and crackers…

I am currently relishing in the post-holiday feeling of being banged up. It’s something I’ve gotten used to, especially since I’ve done nothing but work and get drunk in equal amounts of time during my days off. Nothing new there. What’s new is the year, and I’m going to try to avoid being one of the millions of people who vow that this year is going to be better than the previous one. There’s really nothing at this point for me to believe that that would be the case. So all I could hope for really is that this year does not compete with the magnanimously shitty 2009.

As mentioned, the holidays were quite routine, at least as routine as someone in my circles could have. There are a few highlights I’d happily report just a few paragraphs below.

A Blurry Christmas and a Crappy New Year, 2009 Style.

I had a lengthy post about the goings on in my life over the past week ever since the holiday hoopla hit the entire world. I saved the draft, and for some fucking reason, wordpress ate up my draft and it is now being read in the depths of Internet hell. So, here’s a very brief version of my thoughts as the year that I have much publicized to be the worst year of my life (yet) comes to a very uneventful end.

I’ll just do a “formal” post when I wake up to my first hangover of 2010.

False Resolutions, or something to that effect.

The social networking sites are littered with pictures from people enjoying their respective companies’ yuletide celebrations. I tend to gag a little at the sight. It’s that time of the year nce more, and somehow the usual depression I go through during the months of December has been drowned out by the utter lack of time I have on my hands to dwell on pointless shit like that. I guess it’s a good thing, my isolation. I barely feel the weight of all the putrid happiness people scandalously display during such a time.

I don’t blame them. I f everything were bells and whistles in my part of the world I’d rub it in people’s faces as well.

No, things are not miserable here either. Then again, that may just be the byproduct of the lack of idle time I have, which is the by product of pretty much everything that has happened all year. For now, at least, things are at a steady transitory state, and I think the way the year is closing, there’s a part of me would prefer the stasis.

…and back. (Supposedly.)

I'm so out of character these days, it's downright Skrull-ish.

So things didn’t go as planned. I don’t even know where to start that would sufficiently explain how things went from bad, to worse, to FUBAR. Hell, I don’t even think I want to. I just want to drown in some escapist hobby and and not think about this entire mess that I is no longer in my hands, if it ever was.

But sadly, things are way too different now. Somewhere along the way something happened and now here I am, brooding alone in my fortress which has somehow become my prison. The short version of all this is that I have failed. Details? Read on.

Thing is, I’m not entirely sure if my version of or my perspective on the whole matter is as accurate as I think it is, since I never really truly grasped the depths everyone involved, including myself, would go just to stand up for what we believe to be right.

To Hell…

What I wouldn't give...

My quest to “set things right” has been on for two weeks, and now I am merely days away from facing my fate. It’s too late to save the year, and 2009 will always be remembered as the year that gave my life an ass fucking. (To be clear, I’ve never experienced an ass fucking, but I imagine it is rather unpleasant to those who are not into that sort of thing, like myself. So when I use that as a metaphor, it means that I’m not really against that sort of action, it’s just that it’s something I would not like.)

In order to make certain plans we have come into fruition, I’ve had to make a few sacrifices and pursue things I never expected to be pursuing. No complaints here, it’s just that the past couple of weeks have been harder than expected, with me left alone facing several levels of dark desperation.