I was at a client’s place of business replacing the body text of a website.
Client: I’m bored.
I neither say or do anything in response.
So he starts flicking my earlobe. As I’m working.
You shouldn’t have entered into a contract with a 7-year-old.
Letting out my inner #interiordecorator. (Ignore the miscellany of the bottom left). #globe #stuffedanimals
#baby #fatass #ericcartman #july89 #lovesleep
Honokohau Falls, Maui
This is a boy helping his pet chicken smell a flower. The chicken’s name is Biscuit.
I don’t want it to be true, but I really think it might be. I really, really do think so. I think I’m just inconsiderate, and that means I will always be selfish, but more importantly, I’ll always be a bad boyfriend.
I don’t even know how I turned out this way. But clearly I get caught in the same cycle and I try to fix things that should be under my control, and I can’t budge them. Not even a millimetre.
I wish I’d invented a stream of consciousness machine by now. I’d be very interested to see what I was thinking. As it stands, these thoughts exist only in my head because my mouth is too slow to keep up with my brain. Way too slow.
This always happens in this situation, I think about everything I’ve done and every decision I’ve made since June of 2009. And every time, the same things make me cringe. They should. Some of them are not pretty memories.
But that’s another story, for another day. Right now, I’m focused on today. “I was (editor’s note: am?) embarrassed to call you my boyfriend.” That hurts to hear. But that’s why it needs to be said. I’ve become a lot more confrontational in the last few months, so I don’t mind hearing tough truths. I just hope it isn’t permanent. Hope is nothing if it isn’t supported by actions. So here’s to action.
"Try to make some friends." Yikes. That one rings true too. Really true. Quarter-life crisis true. I don’t have any friends. I’ve got friends. What I mean is, I don’t have any friends who really share the hobbies that I loved for my formative years. Clearly something went wrong in those formative years, but now I don’t have any friends to play hockey with.
But it doesn’t matter, because today I learned that I suck at hockey now. I guess that’s what happens if you don’t play for 5 years. Time to get back into it, and be at a level I was before. Tear it up, as they say.
I know what’s happened. I’ve become so comfortable, I’m benign. I haven’t fought, I haven’t pushed myself really hard at a physical activity, I haven’t yelled and torn someone apart or just generally let aggression take over and make me a little crazy for a really long time. I’ve let my competitive edge get dull. Rusty. Rounded. Testosterone has packed its bags, and left the building.
I need to stop right here or my laptop is going off the balcony.
I think it’s coming back. I’m going to make it come back.
At least a baby smiled at me on the subway. I think she was saying “excellent staring contest, worthy chap”. Is it weird that I spent the whole subway ride staring into the cold, steely eyes of a baby that I believe wanted to murder me? No. No it’s not.
Sun shining through the windows of an Iranian mosque.
This is a little alpaca. Just look at him.