These are the kind of nights that I hate. The nights where I crave action – anything. I gamble away a dollar on what piddly amount is left on my online poker account after I cleaned house once Neteller was done. Piddly is not a word. Gawd.
I want to be out drinking. But I don’t want to spend. I want to be listening to good music with an MGD in hand, and not be caring the crowd that I’m in. I don’t want to worry about a stupid washer and dryer anymore and how “the sooner it gets fixed the better”. Well shit. How about we just come down there right now and fix it? Would it make you happy when I’m at your beck and call at all hours of the night?
I want to be out gambling. I want to be playing basketball in a gym where the guys show up at
This is a free form write. I had some ideas on what I wanted to mention, because I didn’t want this to be my “rando” post for April. And I hate how I’ve made it a point the past few months to include a “rando” post every month. And yes. That’s rando, without the “m”. Because a rando actually stands for something a little bit different than the word “random”. And those that know, know. And those that don’t, I’m sorry. I hate it that I’ve made it a point to make 1 rando post every month, because that is not rando at all. Maybe out of spite for myself I will not include one this month. Sad. I included the topics in the title of this post just so I can remember what I was going to write about while I’m actually writing.
Anyway, back to this night. Literally I am writing tonight because I need to do something. I feel like for some reason it’s a crime to go to bed on a weekend night before
So you kill for the weekend. But for what? Sit around, watch TV, play the XBOX, try to organize a few things, work out, clean house, then back to work again on Monday. Meh.
Crunch time. Michelle and I have a bet on who can lose a bigger percentage of weight by May 15th. Time to start really hauling ass on this. I was working out 6 days a week before getting a shin splint in my left leg and a knee issue. That was 3 weeks ago. I cut the workouts to 4 days a week, and I don’t really notice a difference. I’ll be upping it back to 6 days a week and be spending double the amount of time I normally spend in the gym. To win. I want to be skinnier anyway. I should be. The stupid “healthy wealthy wise” thing through my work told me I was 20 pounds overweight. How dare they! If I lose 10 I’ll be in “top form”. Current body fat percentage, roughly 16%. I’d like to be in the 8-10 range. In a month. Hah. I laugh. I will work my ass off and probably lose 4 pounds realistically. Ideally I will get to the 6-8 pound mark over the next 4 weeks. Then I’ll be impressed with myself. Go figure.
Along with my drive to win the bet, I also have 28 days left to study for my A+ exam. The weight loss bet ends on the 15th of May. The A+ exam is on the 12th of May. I am worried that I will fail at either one. It’s going to take a lot of work to accomplish both. I plan on dedicating at least 2 hours to each everyday, starting Monday. I am more worried about the A+ exam. Work is paying for it, and I get one retry if I fail, but why even put myself through that hell? 180 questions over 4 hours on computer hardware and operating systems? No thanks.
Anyway, good luck to myself.
Since about 19, my friends have been saying I will die before I turn 25. I sort of believed them. At the time, I lived my life as an “unbreakable”. Nothing could phase me, and I could never get in trouble for anything I did. 2 days and a couple minutes from now, it’ll be my 25th birthday. I made it. I can’t really believe that I made it here. It’s kind of weird to think of myself as that old. But I’m doing “old” things.
When I tell people that I thought I was going to die before I was 25, they get really concerned. And I think their concern stems from the fact that I say it so flatly – frankly - like it’s no big deal. And when I recognize their confusion/disturbed look on their face, I kind of have to laugh it off as if it was a joke to me. But it really wasn’t. I feel like I’ve seen so much in my life, and that I’ve been so blessed to experience so many different things, that if it indeed was my time to go, I don’t know if I would fight it. Realize this attitude is much different from people who would say they would do everything to fight it – if they knew it was coming.
Well, I don’t know that it’s coming. I can’t guarantee what’s going to happen tomorrow. But if I survive to 26, I think I’ll be outliving a lot of you. I’ll be that old crotchety man with the cane and a bad attitude. I remember reading I believe in the
So yes. 2 more days. Quarter life crisis. What to do for my quarter life crisis? What to change? What to gain? What to learn? How to grow? Looking back on 24, it was a VERY eventful year. I’m glad I have this blog to read back on…hopefully the servers these are stored on never crash and I lose 2 years of writing. Really, they should offer a print service if I wanted to have all of these printed and bound and mailed to me. What would that cost? Like $75 probably? I’d pay it. Now there’s a hell of an idea blogger…
For some reason, I just thought of a few things I wanted to do with 25. I wanted to pray. I never pray. I’m not that spiritual of a person, I’m not sure if I believe in something yet. In my opinion, it really helps me get through life, when I know I am really the only one who will be there for me. Sure, there is always my family, but when I am alone, if I ever will be alone, it’ll be me to fend for myself and no one else.
I want to pray for positive things. I’m not sure if I know how to do it. Because in my mind I hear it starting as, “Dear God…” and I’m not sure if I like that or not. I’m glad I can just write this out and confuse myself further.
Another thing I wanted to do with 25 is to give sincere compliments. I am terrible with letting my “good job/well done” side show. My dad was a “tough love” character, and I think my mom was a bit of one too. I always remember coming home with scraped up knees and huge bumps on my forehead from rocks that had been thrown at me…crying. And just looking to my parents and them telling me to stop crying. So I’ve always felt like, if you screw your life up, that’s your fault. I’m not going to help you. In fact, I think I’ll talk down to you in a condescending tone hoping that you either spiral further out of control or pick yourself up, using part of the anger from me as your motivation.
I’ve found that this doesn’t work very well with about 95% of people I deal with.
I want to tell people that I know something kind that I think about them. And mean it. And not feel cheesy and weird about it. Someone I work with is always so positive about life. But not in the way that they’re so positive that you begin to hate them for it. They also have their bad days on occasion too. But most days they’ve got a compliment for someone. On the great job they’ve done, or how they like their new haircut or tie or something. And I can see that it makes people feel great about themselves. Because the compliments are genuine.
I was told by this person that this skill comes with parenthood. The ability to genuinely positively reinforce another person will come with parenthood. They tell me that you begin to see your children – or at least the way they are – in other people, and suddenly you have an entirely new respect for the human beings around you. I’m not sure what will happen with me, but I do know for sure that a change will be made as soon as I enter that stage of my life.
So there you have it, my mini birthday resolutions. They seem simple enough, but for me I think they’ll be a pretty major undertaking to change those things about myself.
To end this post, I’d like to make a PSA – a public service announcement to everyone reading.
Do not be afraid of, or angry at those around you in your community. I think here in the Northwest, we have a very isolated culture. Everyone has their bubble and you stay in your bubble and I’ll stay in mine. Get too close and we feel uncomfortable. I notice this fear sometimes…more so in the suburbs than in the city. I can see the look that people give me at times. The look that I might harm them, or steal their car or something…they front with their stone cold faces but looking in to their eyes I can see fear. I don’t consider myself a menacing character. Sure, I’m not smiling right now, but I also don’t have the look of anger on my face.
How many times have you been waiting for something, in line at the Vet’s office or in the waiting room at the doctor’s office and you’ve actually opened your mouth and started talking to a complete stranger? How many of those times were you completely taken aback by how angry that person was with you for starting a conversation? For me, no times – I realize this is bad grammar but I like it. Not once has someone snapped at me for talking to them. Usually it starts with a chuckle.
“Hey, we’re in the same situation, waiting.” “Caramel Apple Cider? What you don’t drink caffeine?” “Wasn’t that traffic/rain ridiculous getting here? Took me 50 minutes to go 10 miles! And now I’m soaked!” “That’s a cute puppy, how old are they?” “Man, they really gotta hire some more people to work at this place…”
Sometimes it ends with a hand shake or a good luck and nice to meet you. Scratch that. Most of the time it ends like that. And every time it’s great. So the next time you’re standing in that line at the bank teller, don’t look like you’ve got some place better to go. Don’t try to act like you wouldn’t mind passing the time chatting with another person. A good majority (literally I would guess 95% of us) are normal, happy (or at the least emotionally stable) people. We speak your language. We wouldn’t mind talking to you at all.
You don’t build “community” by stringing together a bunch of detached bubbles. Say hello once in awhile. I promise I won’t bite.
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