Die young and save yourself!!!

You know what I hate and I hate and I hate even more? A meet up that leaves a bad taste in your mouth. It did not go the way you planned it, the way you envisioned it, the way you wanted it. Not so much like in 500 days of summer where he was totally let down, but where you are totally left thinking and freaking. Like, “wait what did that all really mean, did he/she want me there? Why did he/she act like that?” You leave the person’s house thinking you messed up, you just knocked a chip off the statue of David and now you are in some bad area. You are in the danger zone, and what will make you hate it even more is that it will not be less than 24 hours before you are allowed to know if you are freaking over nothing or not. That bad taste, that fear that you actually did mess up Michelangelo’s masterpiece will stay there. Every time you think of that person, the thoughts of fun and attraction that originally drove you to meet up with person will not be the first ones to pop, the immediate angst will surface. You want to fix it, take charge, but you can’t because you have to wait it out. Be Patient. Isn’t that the worst part of having a bad taste in your mouth, there is never anything close by to wash it away?

GIVE IT UP GIVE IT UP, DOWN

Things I can say to you but I don’t. This is not because I am not a talker. Far from it baby. People wonder how I am so skinny; I personally got a call from an ol’ acquaintance by the name of jen Aniston. She’s kinda built her popularity empire on a few indisputable facts. Her hair, how she got screwed by the hated A. Jolie and her wiles, and how incredibly she has the same body as she did back when we didn’t know that friends would go nine seasons. Anyways getting off topic she called me cause she wanted to know how to keep that body so people can keep looking at her exclaiming she got screwed by bradgelina ultimately ending with she still has great hair though. I told her get talking. That’s it that’s all there is nothing needed more than a tongue that whips itself into a vernacular frenzy. Granted she and anyone down with taking my advice may not be found the most enjoyable person to be around cause I don’t like a motor mouth girl but hey if it keeps you fit (British usage of the word) than guaranteed no one will care cause you got the necessary curves and everyone is shallow enough to go for that. That advice is complete crap and I don’t even believe in it but it proves my point that I like to talk. But I don’t talk about everything. I specifically choose not to talk about anything that will even remotely seem like I am bragging. Oh my goooooooodness I am scared of death of someone thinking that I am bragging. I’d rather be held down and made to watch someone lower a pissed off hornet held lightly with tweezers to my body to have it sting and sting me than get caught bragging. I choose not to talk about things I have done, where I have been, what I am doing and what I like. Unless it’s a completely heinous statement or I make a disclaimer joke at myself for almost crossing over that bragging/conversational line. I have things to brag about, I am a pretty interesting guy I can admit deep inside, but people don’t need me to tell them why. If my qualities aren’t obvious or findable I don’t have them I guess and so I don’t need to tell people what they are. Go ahead try to make me brag, you wont.

When it is like this

Reflection means more when it is like this.

Every hour past means more when it is like this.

The glances connected and snapped mean more when it is like this.

Each inch of safe distance invaded means more when it is like this.

The words heading my way and ignored mean more when it is like this.

I know your thinking means more when it is like this.

Music means more when it is like this.

Words that are held back mean more when it is like this.

Words that slipped out mean more when it is like this.

Finger tap texting means more when it is like this

Windows down and hot nights mean more when it is like this.

Lines written from inside out mean more when it is like this.

Soap and warm water means more when it is like this.

My lighter, my shiner and your bridge mean more when it is like this.

iNSERT bEAUTIFULLY pOETIC nOSTALGIC nAME hERE

You know I really never ever watch the office. When I do it is usually only due to it being a being a social get together that I attend and watch. I ended up in my ample free time today watching an episode of the office all alone in our family room. I laughed a few times but it was actually something else very very odd and unexpected that happened at the end that caused me to write this post. I was emotionally moved by the office.
It was the part where Pam comes back from NYC unexpectedly. Jim was thinking that she had to stay up there for another 3 months or something and bam he is walking out to his car all moopy like and he looks up to see her waiting for him. It was expected, it didn’t throw me or anyone else for a curve. In total simplicity I was quite taken back by how well the Pam and Jim work together. I know that sounds dumb and doesn’t warrant a whole blog but what just got me was they are this fantastic though completely fictional example of a couple working through thick and thin together. That’s all I have to say about it really, nothing is more romantic and nothing makes me want “love” more than knowing my girl is right by my side with a snide light hearted remark for the hard/soft times.
That’s what I saw and that is what I want, my girl by my side. This isn’t like a desperate plea either for this to happen soon. I know by the many dates of which I have put myself through that someone that connects with you like that doesn’t come around often. Because you are original and different means that someone that clicks with you must also be original and different. I am willing to wait and push through it and I guess maybe one of the best parts of this other person is that they didn’t hurt you, bore you, make you have a panic attack daily like the others did in the past. My girl will help way more than she hurts.

Joe Joes and Orgasms

There is a beautiful site just across the lane in the computer lab. A young gal in a horrendous pink and green sweater, sporting a robin egg blue cardigan. She is eating Joe Joes which in the lab is a no no. On her screen is a large diagram of a female vagina with the bold words “Orgasm” printed on the top.
The whole miniscule scene is a fantastic moment. For even I know with all my game and show that I would still feel pretty “funky” with a big ol’display of the orgasmic goings-on of the female body on my screen in the bustling pre-lunch hours in the TSC computer lab. This girl doesn’t even stop there no this girl is quickly becoming my C-lab hero. SHES EATING JOE JOES WITH HONEY MUSTARD!!!! (Pause for effect) IN THE COMPUTER LAB!! I have a guilt trip every time (ohhhhhh jeez she’s now on real live photos of the ovulation process) the prowling computer lab techie comes near my sector and I am watching hulu. This girl is doing it all and you know what she just don’t care. I catch the girl next to her look over at her screen with a horrified look. Not that she should have any reason too but alas we all have our limits and boundaries, apparently out of sight out of mind and in her body her motto. I do believe the moment has passed since the slide on her monitor is a picture of Humphrey Bogart being turned down by Ingrid Bergman in Casablanca promoting abstinence. Such is my luck that I was able to see such an awesome display of total isolation from social norms. She is such a rebel!!! Now I will check my facebook listen to cold war kids and watch that gorgeous red head across the lab walk to the desk to get her printed documents. Creepy yeah I know but I am so motivated to not care right now.

The big "Big"

I am sitting here, thinking but not sure what I am thinking. I am sitting here feeling but I am not sure what I am feeling. I have just erased like at least four sentences that were meant to explain what I am experiencing right. I just cannot get those feelings to take a form in sentences and phrases. They can’t because they don’t know why they are there and I don’t know either. My feelings have a purpose just like the ones I am feeling right now, but the ones I am feeling right now do not know their purpose. They have found a way into me somehow and now they are just waiting. Their presence there inside me does not make me feel sad nor does it make me happy. I just feel them. They are not telling me what to do they are just waiting for it to happen. They are not pointing me in a direction they are just waiting for me to get going there.
So I sit here and think where did they come from, maybe if I find where they have been and how they got inside me, then I can figure out where they are going and how they want me to work them out. So I think of the things that have happened today and I present them to my feelings and say, is this what brought you in? Is this why you came inside of me? For every memory of the recent events of today, my feelings say no that’s not what let us in, we didn’t come inside you because of that. So I just don’t know what to do with them, I have tried to find out where they came from but they don’t know either. Both they and I do not have any idea what we are going to do with each other. But then I say to the feelings or to me because I am not quite sure who is in charge at this point maybe you are here so I can feel. In an honest moment I can say that I do not feel like I do now, often. To have this big “Big” right inside of me is yet again inexplicable but it is also not ordinary. My feelings scoff at the notion that their presence is there to give me a break from the ordinary, they did not fill me up with whatever they are for such a menial task. My feelings are great and powerful their reasons must also be as such. So I have resigned myself to the belief that these feelings have come to the very core of me, so they could be felt. Where they took me was where I was already. What they helped me do was what I was already doing as I felt them. I say to my feelings thank you for coming and letting me feel what you feel like inside of me. In short thank you for making me feel, and I would like it if you came back again sometime.

Straight-leg 501 fire

It is 12:35 and you are out walking the many intersecting sidewalks of your campus. Making your way at your own pace and canter to your next class, your car, your humble abode, your point B. You just may be even walking with a friend or with Beyonce crooning in your ear but the point is that you are walking. About 20 yards up the sidewalk that obviously is filled with other transitional students you see a young man round the corner. He is sporting a pair of 501 jeans and a teal green jacket that looks like it keeps him sufficiently warm. He has got his backpack on, and it’s strapped down tight around his waist and chest but it doesn’t keep it from bouncing, it’s bouncing because he is running. Yes, he is rounding the corner at full gallop, not a brisk walk, or even a speed walk. He is lifting his legs and leaning into the wind while pumping those arms. The sound he is making from all the fabric he is rubbing together and the backpack thumping is not doing anything to help him not attract attention. The whole sidewalk population has noticed his awkward dash and is either gawking or veering off to the side to give this man a straight shot. Why shouldn’t we stare? While the whole surrounding population found a way to adjust their schedule to allow comfortable traveling time, our sprinter decides to see he can start a friction fire in his jeans. It’s a slight offense against the jovial code of student transitional activities. Punishable by the countless faces that will stare at this Olympian hopeful with expressions of misunderstanding and entertainment at his expense. In the end I learnt a great lesson from this sad fast man. If I am late for something I will find a deserted and probably longer forest path of which I can make haste without invited the disdain that I am sure everyone is so willing to stare out, as I was.