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Nov. 11th, 2015


JUs† SeEMeD S0 BUsiNESsY...

'Is it ok if I type while you talk?' she asked while she sat attentively in the computer chair with tablet/keyboard positioned in her lap.


'Great, so tell me what's going on, why are you here?' she looked attentively as she awaited my response, ready to translate my rambling diatribe and torrent of emotion into concise, logical, statements of fact. It had been my first session with a counselor - aside from the mandatory sessions that all students of my elementary school were required to attend. All students within the school got to skip class to have one-on-one sessions, or group sessions, with the school counselor as part of preliminary screening. I only had one or two sessions with the counselor, but envied those students that got to leave class repeatedly to see the school counselor over and over and over. Here I was some xx years later and suddenly that envy had transformed into empathy - the notion of meeting with a counselor wasn't so cool anymore.

She was rather young, and quite attractive for a therapist. Sitting in her chair she wore a comfortable winter sweater, professional dress pants and adorned her voluptuous chest with a golden coin necklace - it was a rather nice touch. The entire atmosphere of her presence, the office, and her character gave off a homely feeling of safeness, of blandness, of lack of life experience.

'Have you lived in this area all of your life?' I asked. I knew the answer before I even asked it. Her degree on the wall was from the local state school about forty-five minutes away and the pictures of her with her husband painted the picture of a girl that never left home; it painted the picture of a girl that had no need to leave home.

'Yes' she said with a smile. Within that moment I came to the realization as to where the session would go, what type of advice she would give and what I could expect next from her.

I began going into the issue that led me to her office that day, an issue I'd rather not include in the journal as some things are too personal to even admit to yourself. Like many things, I could feel the session slipping away from me. I kept dropping the words, 'I'm not sure it's even about this anymore' and 'I feel it's become bigger than this' but we mostly just danced around the topic - her asking questions and me displaying an uncanny level of honestly with her.

Then, before I knew it, it was all over. She scheduled me for another appointment and walked me to the door of her office. The quickness of the end left me in complete shock and off-balance. The startling ending, which almost came in mid-sentance, seemed so unnatural and against the flow of the meeting that it now has me questioning the entire validity of the meeting. While I can't slight her, and I understand it's a business it all just seemed so....businessy.

Sep. 14th, 2015



As I stood next to this behemoth my irrational childhood fears began to bubble to the surface and I suddenly felt uncomfortable and on edge.  For whatever reason, the thought of extremely deep water and massively large objects frighten the shit out of me.  Looking back, it all probably started with swimming lessons and the classic childhood fear that a gigantic shark would appear in the deep end and gobble me up.  While the shark never did manifest itself, the subconscious fear of those deep foreboding waters has followed me straight into adulthood.

I suppose it was all just a fear of vastness, the fear of being so minute and tiny in the face of colossal objects or spaces has consistenly filled me with a sense of terror.  Or maybe it's simply the fear of an infinite abyss; the notion of standing before something so vast and limitless and being completely vulnerable before it petrifies me - it as if there is nothing you can you do escape it or hide from it.  Even as a teenager, I can remember going into an empty farm silo and being utterly terrified of the open space that lie within it - it was as if a dark subconscious nightmare had been brought to life and manifested in the world.  I stood in that silo for about ten seconds before taking off for the door, trying to act cool as possible while I hastily walked away never to look back at it.

Kind of crazy.  Even as an 'adult', I find the below image disturbingly unsettling:

I can't look at it without feeling uncomfortable.

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Sep. 12th, 2015


I† WAs NiCE RuNNiNG iN†O YOu...

"Speaking of interesting events, guess who I met today..."

After two pitchers of Troegs Perpetual Joe stared back at me with an uncomprehending gaze that carried with it the faintest trace of boredom.  Pearl Jam, 'Alive' played amidst the barroom chatter of football talk. Joe had spent the last five minutes singing off-key in an embarrassing display that made everyone at the table uncomfortable.

"I saw /amd".

His gaze narrowed and the dull stare fled from his face, he immediately snapped out of his drunken stupor as his eyes focused into a full comprehension.  The story of /amd and I was one that Joe was intermingled in and one that carried feelings of bitterness and slight resentment between the two of us.  There was a second part to the conversation I had posted earlier that Joe would spill during a night of drunken confession.  "[ObLiViOn], when you were asking me about /amd I spoke to Allen again and he said that /amd wanted you so bad, that she wanted you to make a move on her and was waiting for you to do something.  I had this knowledge in my head and I thought for a moment I was God, playing with your life and questioned if I should give you this knowledge or just let you figure it out on your own.  I didn't feel right playing God so I never told you that, but man she wanted you so bad.  She wanted you to give her the..." his voice trailed off as he began making obscene gestures with his hands.  Having gone to Joe for advice about /amd, and having him blatantly withhold such information left a bitter taste to say the least.  To be honest, I’ve never forgiven him for that, but then again men are to figure out their own relationships - not rely on the drunken advice of friends.  Now, here we were in the same bar, same topic, x months later.

Fast forward to today, I'm watching him sit across from me with mouth agape, I begin the story:  "It was interesting, I was coming down the stars at work when I flung open the door to see a very attractive female.  Not having my glasses, I didn't recognize who it was so I said 'hello' only to realize it was her.  I think it happened so quickly that neither of us really knew what to make of it.  She looked frazzled and mentioned she was looking for a guy from security, and by chance, I had met with that same guy the day before so I offered to walk her down to the office.  I kept it very professional, as I didn’t want to get into personal matters so I walked her to the office and said goodbye." I left out the part about all the emotion that came rushing back from running into an ex-girlfriend.  In that moment, standing in the hall she had taken on the persona that I remembered from early on in the relationship - the one that carried all the allure of someone new and mysterious and filled with endless possibility.  At that moment she remained the girl that wasn't filled with blemishes and faults, but the girl you naively fill with your subconscious hopes and desires.

Joe sat back comprehending my words for a moment, his thoughts and mannerisms teetering between that of a wise advisor and barroom drunk.  For a brief moment, I thought he was going to add a significant insight into the conversation, but the alcohol took over and he dove headfirst into all out drunk, "Did...did you tell her you want to bang her double-d breasttsts...[ObLiVioN], you could have taken her up to my cube and had sex with her - I would have left".  He began laughing hysterically at the premise then continued on, shouting "Yo Joe!  Get out of your office I need it to bang /amd!" His hysterical laughter gave way into a swaying motion that had him balancing on the edges of the barstool. Few people could get as drunk as Joe could on a Thursday Night at 6:00pm.  Trying to carry on a serious conversation, I ignored him and allowed his wife, "G" to interject in the conversation.

G, much more sober and contained, continued on "What was she doing in your building? Isn't that strange that you would run into her?" In my foolishness, or haste, or desire to see divine intervention I began to dissect all the events that led to our meeting, "It's really strange that we would meet at that moment", I beckoned, "I mean, I was on my way back from the bathroom and there were two bathrooms that were broken that forced me to use a third...which lead me to where she was.  In addition, what are the chances of her making a wrong turn down a hallway only to arrive at the exact moment when I'm walking down the stairs.  Also don't forget the fact that I met with the same guy she was looking for only a day before so I was able to help her and walk her directly to his office." As with many things in life, I continued to analyze the seemingly independent stream of facts to determine if it was all just a coincidence or if there was some divine plan that countered statistical reasoning.

G agreed that it was the working of Providence, and blurted out "You should text her".  Joe, in typical fashion followed up her comment with an offhand remark "Dude, you should just tell her that you want her [expletive] [expletive] [expletive]..." the expletives began blending together against the backdrop of his hysterical laughter.

"I have been thinking about texting her, but after the breakup she unfriended me on Facebook and I'm not really sure what to think of it", my deepest unvoiced concern was having to run into her on a daily basis after a failed relationship.  I'm fairly certain that fear ruined the relationship as it kept me from ever taking chances with her - for fear of making a monumental mistake and having to be reminded of it at work and through mutual friends.

Taking into account the advice of G, and my own desire to see what would happen if I did text her, I sent her the following message shortly after lunch, "Hi!  It was nice running into you yesterday.  What made you trek into my building?"

The conversation started off in a very positive fashion as we had a nice exchange of pleasantries filled with "haha" and ":)" and the prized "hahaha".  While I was surprised as to how well it went it was very much one sided - me pelting her with questions as she responded in brief.  If I were texting any other girl I would think it to be awkward but /amd was a notoriously bad texter and this was standard procedure.

The conversation ultimately trailed off as I asked her to meet up with me for happy hour only to have her respond one-hour and forty minutes later with "Ohh sorry :( I just got done with my appointments".  The answer was just vague enough to border between her blowing me off and simply being busy.  I read through the message and suddenly remembered why the relationship came to a crushing defeat, /amd was the queen of hiding emotions and responding in vague terms that were so difficult to read and I, in my fear of screwing something up with someone I have to work with, didn't have the fortitude to take the risk or address the problem directly.  That, among other things, led to the demise.

I responded back with "No Worries :)  Sounds like a busy day" to which the conversation halted - presumably never to start up again.

Aug. 28th, 2015


\AZ CHeCKs Ou†...

"Am I part of your plus three for paintball?" \AZ asked.

And with the simple response of "No" the levy of professionalism and cordialness broke under the strain of months of frustration and fury.   What began as a simple misunderstanding quickly transformed into a "GFY", which gave way to "Go Fuck yourself.  I'm out" and ultimately culminating with "Now leave me the fuck alone!!!!!!!!"

Throughout the conversation I thought about apologizing and accepting full responsibility in an attempt to salvage what was left out our friendship, but a friendship isn't really a friendship if you're the one accepting guilt for all transgressions and misunderstandings that that may arise.  It's not really a friendship when one party is beholden to the whim of the other and it's definitely not a friendship when misunderstandings are punctuated with "GFY".  It was also a matter of pride, I had asked her to join me for a work-outing to play paintball and she never gave me a definitive yes - as such she didn't get her name added to the list.  See image above.

Though the reason for not apologizing was mostly due to the futility of it.  Having gone through quite a few breakups I've come to the realization that there is no reversing the hatred and fury of a scorned woman.  I've watched this scene play out before, the build-up of months, if not years, of frustration finally overflowing when minor events transcend into tornadoes of wrath.  /LM had done it, and in my naivety I didn't understand why she got so angry over the most trivial of matters.

"You want to get a ultra-violet light to clean with?"
    "You're always leaving your stuff out, I can't take this"

Now it was boiling over with \AZ:
   "You signed up [Friend] for paintball, but not me?!"

I remember a favorite joke of /LM, which has coincidently become a favorite joke of mine, "When you hate a girl you hate everything about her; everything she does will get on your nerves.  'God I hate the way that b#@%! eats a F*%&#@! cracker'.

Believe it or not, I had been expecting this event for quite a while.  \AZ had found a new man - and a girl can't simply have a new boyfriend while the ex-boyfriend is hanging around.  I had been mistaken when I thought the event take on a more subtle tone.  I thought the end of the relationship would manifest itself in slow decay of "busy schedules" and "not enough time" - not once did I think it would end in a fiery barrage of "Go F%#@ yourself!"

Though, if I were wise I could have predicted this.  \AZ and I had broken up before and she was looking for reasons to fight - she would intentionally start fights or make inflammatory remarks so that it a fight would be imminent and she would have a reason to cut me out of her life - she couldn't just walk away peacefully.  Now, fast forward a year or so and here were acting out the same situation - a testament to the cyclical nature of life. Though, I've never had a friendship end so brutally in a cacophony of "f@#$".

Aug. 16th, 2015



"I've been watching a movie on Netflix entitled, "These Final Hours".  It's about world that is quickly approaching doomsday - North and South America have both been destroyed and Great Britain has about twelve hours before it's completely destroyed and all inhabitants are killed.  It's quite a dark film - a vast majority of citizens have committed suicide, crazed lunatics running around with machetes' and massive orgies where people just hop up on drugs and have sex - passing the time before the end of the world.  The movie follows a main character who, by all accounts, is a piece of trash - he cheats on his girlfriend, is a frequent alcoholic and coke head. He finds two men trying to rape an underage girl and saves her - trying to get her reunited with her father in an attempt to do one final good deed before the end of the world, a type of personal redemption if you will.  It's interesting to note how impending doom plays on the characters and what people do with the last few hours of their life.  What would you do if you were in that situation?  If you only had ten, or twelve, hours to live."

Her eyes glazed as her countenance took on an expression of boredom and disinterest.

She paused for a moment, then without so much as an inkling of emotion she responded, "F#@$.  I'd do lots and lots of F@#$ing.  I'd smoke and F$@# - and I don't mean cigarettes.  I'd smoke up and have sex all day long."

The look of frustration on my face must have been blatantly obvious.  /AZ was always teetering between sorority girl and professional. Every time I thought she grew up she would consistently revert back to the sorority mentality - it was ingrained in her essence - a type of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.  On the one hand /AZ could be so smart, strong, and refined, but that air of professionalism carried with it an undertow of unbridled hedonism straight out of the most decadent of sorority houses.

She continued the conversation, "What would you do?"

"I'm not sure.  I would probably go home - drive back and see family."

"You would. You're always driving back to [hometown].  I'm not even going to call it [hometown], I'm going to call it Gayburg.  [ObLiVion-FalLs] is going back to GayBurg."

Jul. 26th, 2015


N!cE ScARs...

'And how are you doing in this heat?' I playfully questioned as I looked down towards her bulging stomach.  She was now seven months pregnant, standing in the shade of a picnic pavilion her husband had rented for his 'baby BBQ' - combination of a barbeque and traditional baby shower that I was invited to.

She smiled, and with a soft sigh she stated, 'I'm just ready for this all to be done.  I think that...' her words trailed off as my focus shifted to her forearms.  She had subconsciously crossed them over her belly and that’s when I noticed the numerous razor scars that adorned the inside of her arms.  The scars were bloated and distorted, but unmistakably the result of razor.  The scars had transformed from small little slices to elongated bulges, symbolically aging with her and following her throughout the various stages of her life.  They were the physical remnants of emotional scars long past, scars from many years go - most likely in her teenage years.  Now a woman in pregnancy, I began to ponder the significance of those scars.  As she rambled on I thought about how she would present those scars to her child, how she would present those scars to her grandchildren and the girls at bingo and bridge when she became an old woman.  Perhaps that's of little consequence given the scars were accompanied by a range of bizarre tattoos, including smiley faces, dragons, and an alien dressed up in a Sasquatch costume; the scars may be the easiest piece of body décor to explain.

I'd be lying if I said the scars didn't make me ponder the emotional weakness that they portrayed.  Mothers, and grandmothers, are to be emotional rocks and beacons yet to fall into a set of arms covered in scars seems to send a more subtle message of vulnerability and frailty.

Jul. 11th, 2015


WHeRe !s EveRyB0Dy?

As a child I would have reoccurring dreams of being left alone.  Throughout the dream I'd find myself in empty towns, cities, and houses where the occupants had left moments prior to my arrival.  I'd find half-smoked cigarettes, microwaves counting down the last few seconds of a reheated dinner and backyard swings that remained in motion as the occupant jumped off and sprinted towards the distance.  If I were quick enough, I would often catch a glimpse of people running away towards the horizon as I peered out the vacant window of the house or around the corner of the city street.  Often I'd attempt to run after them and catch up with their mad sprint but my efforts to reach out to them were always in vain.  The strangers, friends, or whomever the dream cast them to be were always beyond just beyond my reach in the silhouette of the horizon.  The faster I'd run and call out to them, the faster they would take off and collectively decide to ignore my pleas.

As an adult I find those feelings of abandonment and loneliness bubbling to the surface in my daily decisions and feelings.  The thought of isolation terrifies me, and anything that remotely resembles the notion of friends, family and even strangers, drifting off into their own metaphorical horizons brings forth a sense of overwhelming panic.  The feeling and fear is so overwhelming that it carries its own pull.  Sometimes we are slaves that which we fear, and hate most, and it's no different than with the feeling of abandonment.  The strange part is, as much as I want to avoid it, I find myself clinging to and making decision in favor of isolation time and time again - like clockwork.  I'm not sure if it's fear the drives me to those decisions, or the notion that by attempting to avoid something so fiercely the action backfires and draws you closer and closer to that which you're trying to avoid.  It seems simple enough:  if you don’t want to be alone then don't make decisions that lead to that conclusion; however, there is always a “but” and “I can't” and “things aren't working out” that leads to the underlying decisions that result in being alone.


The reoccurring dreams I would have were most similar to the Twilight Zone episode 'Where is everybody' (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2sZlkwQ2zow).
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Jul. 8th, 2015


Nigh† S0uNDs

Life can be difficult, stressful, and downright depressing.  To get through the 'difficult  times' I'd often find myself listing to Nightsounds radio (http://www.nightsoundsradio.org/) and up until today, I'd recommend it for anyone who was having a difficult time and in need of a comforting voice to guide them through the turmoil of the night.  Today was different though, I was listening to the host, Bill Pearce, speak of worry and difficult times ahead when he suddenly mentioned Y2K and the panic that was overtaking the nation.  Puzzled as to why he would mention Y2K, I did some research and came upon the realization that the host, Bill, has been dead for five years - the radio program was merely replaying old episodes he had recorded while alive (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bill_Pearce).  They were old episode that went back at least fifteen years...

After my realization, the comforting voice now seemed so distant, so fake, so disconnected.  To be honest, I stopped listening half way through the program and had a realization of total aloneness.  The voice I had relied on to bring alleviation and stillness to the night wasn't real or at least the voice didn't belong to anyone of this world.  The promise that lay behind the message of hope turned out to be a hollow promise that belonged to days past, of audiences past, of situations past.  The message, now devoid of all human being, was cast into the impersonal digitized archive of the internet.

I even came to the realization that the whole episode was an allegory for religion, the comforting voice that you feel is speaking just to you - the one soul you can identify with at the midnight hour - turns out to be nothing more than a pre-recorded message from distant time and place. Equally depressing is the notion that I, as well as many others, turned to that message for hope under the belief that there was another human being, somewhere in the world, that wanted to provide some semblance of comfort but in the end it turned out the be nothing more than fragment of what once was, but is no more - words from a man that had been dead for the better part of a decade.  His prayers, concerns, emotions may have been real at one point but were now as dead and impersonal as the electronic speakers that carried his voice.

I had even gone as far as to donate money to the radio program and wanted to write Bill personally and thank him for the work he had done.  No use in thanking him now.  I'm not sure I'll continue listening to the program as all words of comfort and the promise of a better morning are now contrasted against the death of the host - something about the words of a deceased person promising you 'everything is going to be ok' just doesn't seem to hold as much weight as if the person were still alive.  Maybe I shouldn't care, but I do.

Feb. 14th, 2015


WeLComE /BY. FORge† /BY.

Allow me to introduce /BY to the cast of girlfriends; then quickly shoo her off to the side of the stage in preparation of the next girlfriend.

If I were completely honest with myself I would have to admit the relationship was doomed from week two, and yet here we are into week forty and she still retains the title of girlfriend....

:: The phone rings in the middle of my livejournal update. ::


"Hey!  What are you up to?"

It's /BY.  It's 8:30pm and she is currently driving back from her sister-in-law's apartment.  She decided to spend Valentine's Day with her so that her sister-in-law wouldn't be alone.  Her sister-in-law was born on Valentine's Day, and since the sister-in-law's husband has to work today /BY felt particularly sympathetic towards her plight and thus decided to devote Valentine's Day to her sister-in-law.

"Nothing.  And yourself?" I respond back in a cold callous tone.  Attitude?  Yes.  After purchasing flowers and sitting alone on Valentine's Day drinking whisky I'm ready to call the relationship quits.  I would have called it quits months ago had I been able to make decisions like a rational human being; however, mix together the fear of loneliness, and a dash of her athletically thin body, and suddenly rational decisions aren't so easy to make...

"Well, I'm really glad I got to see her today.  Thank you for understanding; it's just her birthday and her husband has to work and I just don't feel she should be alone on this day, you know?" Her words fell on deaf ears; after spending most of the day in my apartment drinking whiskey, and looking up potential MMOs to buy, I felt there was some poetic irony in her words.

We stumbled through conversation as she drove home - when the television isn't on it's quite difficult to make conversation with her.  We have virtually nothing in common, other than the fear of being alone of course.  The entire relationship was based upon a fallacy, upon the idea of hoping for something that clearly wasn't there; perhaps, through some supernatural force, we would both wake up one day and become the one the other wanted to date.  Unfortunately for us it doesn't appear as though the miraculous transformation is going to occur - actually it's quite the opposite as we find ourselves drifting further and further apart.  /BY will mark the first girl that I've had to break up with, and to be honest I have no idea how she will take it.  I'd imagine she'll get angry, bitter and vengeful upon news of me throwing in the towel but I really don't know - a testament to how little we really know of each other....


Found this treasure at a thrift store, thought it was appropriate for Valentine's Day...


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