96+10

large social settings were never my forte, you see. the sweet-nothings, the commotion, the human interactions often overwhelm my pea brain.

that is how i find myself standing outside the restaurant, smoking a cigarette.

i peer inside, eyeing the groups of mingling people. something gets stirred up inside of me, maybe it’s envy, maybe it’s just bad Italian food. i take a drag of my cigarette and will it away, but it lingers.

memories flood back, none of them good. the mistakes of youth, the naivety of the future, the missed opportunities all come rushing to the forefront. let bygones be bygones, i tell myself. live in the present, live in the now.

i see doctors, lawyers, professionals through the window. somehow i catch my reflection in the glass window and i can’t see anything. what have i been doing all this time? your peers have moved on, moved up, and i’m lagging behind.

feelings of inadequacy consumes me. part of me tells me that i’m ok, i’m not doing that bad, and part of me berates me, telling me how i’ve failed, how i’m nothing, how i need to stop screwing around and find some direction in my life.

you know you’ve had this conversation with yourself once too many when you don’t even remember how many times you’ve done this. i don't even try to get a resolution. i know better. no matter how i slice it, i can't find any answers.

i crack a small, bitter smile, put the cigarette in my mouth, take a deep drag, and tell the demons to fuck off.

maybe the next 10 will fare better for me.

who i am

i look at myself in the mirror, and all i can see is a dispicable piece of shit. a useless piece of discarded trash.

when're you going to figure yourself out and stop pushing those around you away?

fuck, i hate myself.

jail would like, totally suck

it sure didn’t take long for nablopomo to turn into nablonomo, huh? this, my friends, is the true definition of dedication. but let’s not cry over spilt blog entries and just move on. everyday is a new post. or not. whatever.

last night, i decided that i would relive my youth. thus, i went and played pickup basketball. yes i did.

thoughts before playing
- i’m in decent shape. i can do it. yeah.
- i’m an athlete, biatch. it’ll just come back to me. just like c++ or something.

thoughts post playing
- god damn motherfucker, i’m way out of shape.
- me sucko mucho at basketball.
- let’s just stick to walking, eating and sleeping. it’s hurts less that way.

so today, i’m walking as if i’ve got a up my . now i know to kill myself before i ever get sentenced to jail time.

taebo?!

so i spent a total of 3 hrs out of bed yesterday, and maybe 2 more hours on top of it awake, struggling to respond to work emails.  and yet once again, the mighty ed prevails.  the illness is defeated, and ed lives to continue polluting the world.  makes you kinda wonder if Darwinism actually works, doesn’t it?

during my semi-conscious state yesterday morning, i was listening to the mind numbing pop music station when they played Akon’s new song – “Smack That”.  Come on, i was just too sick to change the music station.  can’t a sick person get a free pass?

anyways, mr. lyricist rapper here decided to rhyme Lamborghini Gallardo with……(wait for it)…….Taebo.

hold on.  you’re surely mistaken.  taebo?  are you sure it’s not mango?  or jLo?  or bongo?

yes, you read it correctly.  he rhymed it with Taebo.  talk about street cred.  

gangsta.

it's cold, isn't it?

i have 3 layers of pants on, a tshirt, a sweater over that, and 2 blankets over me at this point. and honestly, i'm still kinda cold. see? i really am sick.

i've downed a few airborne drinks, and went through probably a few gallons of water, but still i'm sore and weak. if this were me 5 yrs ago, i would've sweated it out after a few hours and now would be playing golf or watching porn. but apparently, with age comes the extended healing time.

so it's 3pm, and with the exception of actually going out to get some food, i've been bundled up all day, cursing the cause of my illness. it's got to be the damn metro, with all the weirdos on it.

fuck this getting old and getting sick shit. and now, if you'll excuse me, i need to go pee, send out an email to coworkers to appear as if i'm working, then pass out, covered by a mountain of heat keeping crap.

gosh

so i think i'm sick. body just started feeling sore, and now my joints ache, and i can feel myself starting to burn up. yay me. i'll be so f'ing pissed if i actually do get sick. no, not because i don't want to feel nasty, etc. it's because i finally accrued enough vacation time to get back on the + column. i have a grand total of 2 hours and change of leave time.

and i am not about to use that leave time for a sick day. screw that. i'm using it when i can actually enjoy that. i can wake up tomorrow with half an eye stuck shut with eye shit, or even if i start to drown in my own nose runny watery shit, i'll somehow drag my voluptous ass to work. i'll use those 2 hours over my dead body (fuck, i'm just asking for it, aren't i?)

can you say productive worker bee?

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like, apparently i signed up for nablopomo or something. go figure. as if writers block wasn't enough, now i've got peeps checking the blog to see if i actually do it. no pressure or anything. gosh.

so for all my loyal readers (.3343 of them), as well as those who has unfortunately stumbled upon this disaster of a blog, fasten your seatbelts, get the puke bag ready and let's get this fucker on the road.