Tag Archives: life


I recently caught up with an old friend that I had not seen for some time and boy, oh boy, were the results depressing. I met this man fifteen years ago. He was this really put together dude. He had a great job with a side business to generate extra income, nice house in a nice town, wife and kids, the whole kit and caboodle. Fast forward to today and it is like he is living the completely opposite life. He has a job, but not sure how much income it really generates. He lives in an apartment in a somewhat shitty part of a dump city. He is divorced and on-an-off seeing a somewhat psychotic lady and is having some problems with his kids.

Life really breaks people down. I feel bad because he really is a good guy and he seems super lonely now. What the hell happened?

I want to slap him in the face and tell him to get it together. I think part of his problem is that he is living for other people in his life and he needs to be selfish and live for himself. His ex-wife is remarried and is a bit of a cunt and his kids are adults. Fuck them, they can figure it out, this guy desperately needs to focus on his own needs instead of these women who will never be satisfied, well, because, women are incapable of feeling satisfaction.

I really want to see this guy turn it around. Everybody loves an good underdog story.

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No, The Opposite

A co-worker was saying after the unexpected passing of another one of our co-workers that life is too short and not to be petty. I know death effects people in different ways, but the lesson I learn from life’s too short is not to be a better person. On the contrary, every fiber of my being tells me, why are you not going balls out? I shouldn’t be disingenuous and walk on eggshells for people that are assholes, I should be calling them out on their bullshit.

I understand that you can’t say everything that you want to express, but fuck it, if life should be valued, shouldn’t I be able to live it as I see fit? Why should I stifle myself for these horrid swines?

And let me tell you, I’m at my boiling point, so my work peers should brace themselves because there is a good chance that I could see a dismissal in my future for my less then cordial declarations.

A bigger part of me says going down in a blaze of glory would be well worth it.

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I had a very interesting conversation with my friend yesterday about his Thanksgiving week. After the call, I realized that I have a very boring life and his is thrilling, whether it be good or bad, he always has something brewing.

I just went to Jamaica and I have no stories, this man tries to drive up a portion of the East Coast and  it’s like he’s O. Henry. Granted the man is a bit of a maniac, but the tales he has are unbelievable unless you know him and then they seem like they make perfect sense.

I know I’m a snooze because I was trying to think of any tales of debauchery and they all date back to almost a decade ago, none of which come close to any of his stories.

All I can say is that my favorite part of his tale was when he said, “I did you a courtesy by not shooting you.”

I don’t believe that sentence would be used in any of my stories for the remainder of my days.

God Bless this stupid fool and his fantastic antics.



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If This Isn’t a Metaphor for My Life

Image result for sand bucket

I was at the beach the other day. There was a boy who was about the age of ten. He was extremely overweight. He was digging a hole in the sand. I was watching him work away while his single mother slept on the beach. I was obsessed with this fat, little boy digging a huge hole.

There were four girls who were about the age of twelve or so. I noticed girls now roam in packs of four, a la Mean Girls. These girls were cute and turned out to be cheerleaders. They were right in front of the boy doing back flips and throwing each other up in the air. It was very impressive.

The boy paid no mind to these cute little girls flipping in front of him. He was preoccupied with his monster hole. He couldn’t care less about these girls.

The boy finished his project and sat in the hole he made for himself and buried himself in it. By this juncture his unaware mother finally noticed him and helped bury him in the sand.

The cute cheerleaders roamed away.

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My birthday is in precisely four months. I am taking stock of my life and as usual, not finding much to be impressed with.

It’s interesting to me when people don’t believe that I’m boring. Every Monday, the people at work ask me if I did anything over the weekend in true Corporate America fashion. I always respond with no, which is true, unless you find laundry and other chores and errands to be something. They think I’m lying about my dull lifestyle. I’m not, who would make themselves out to be so unexciting? To be fair, even if I did do something, I wouldn’t tell them because It’s not their business to begin with.

I really have to get it together. I am not much of an accomplisher. It seems as if my life is rather featureless.

However, the problem is that I’m not a very motivated person. I don’t have that drive. I prefer to just sort of float.

Example: I wrote a novella. It’s done, just needs some edits, it’s half posted on WattPad, but not published.

I don’t think it’s anything exceptional, but shouldn’t I at this point just finish it up?

It’s hard though because I’d rather eat a ridiculously large bowl of ice cream while watching Turner Classic Movies than actually tie up the loose ends of the novella that I’ve worked on for quite some time.

I’m doing something I never do, giving myself a goal.

I give myself four months to publish it, lets hope TCM isn’t showing anything good in the interim.

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