suavely deranged

Me. Duh. I'm a complete fucking narcissist, for those of y'all what have happened by for the first time, never to be heard from again.

Memory lane is an often painful address.

Time passes, but it usually kicks the shit out of you as it does.

 

So, it was while I was watching the 2nd season of Californication today (I still can't believe they killed off Lou Ashby; I know, I'm such a mark, fucking sue me) that I realized that now might be a good time to reassess the mistakes of the past.

Or maybe it was while I was busily doing what I've always done, only to have something different and unexpected transpire.

Or, perhaps, running into someone who knew me back during the dark days of K, when I was a complete fucking orbiter, and still greeted me. Yeah, let's leave it at that. No extra reading between the lines, that was enough. I my ownself would have ignored me. And I'm appreciative of all the work I've put in since then. Although I realize how very far I still have to travel on this journey of a thousand stumbles. Like that? Just came up with it. What can I say? I've been inspired of late. I renewed my library card after a year and a half of never having the time to read anything other than e-books and cereal boxes, and I'm hooked. Always did love me the things with the words.

Possibly running into someone I once had a history with but whom I'm fairly certain I don't want to know anymore, even though I should forgive her her thoughtless transgression, as her heart was in the right place. Head, right square up her ass. Been there, done that, doing it tomorrow. But I avoided her, although I felt saddened at all the weight she's gained since she ruined an otherwise quality breakfast outing for me. And I hold my pancakes sacred above all others.

Mayhap a text message and a drunken phone call from someone I hold dear, who is away on vacation. Yeah, I miss her, I'm not made of stone. Just my skull.

I'm getting better at getting out of my own head and way, but tonight...I'm glad I don't drink anymore. There's been a lot weighing on my pretty little head of late, wondering if I'll ever find me a suitable career. Or, you know, grow up and shit.

Fucking Crossroads. Although Britney totally set the screen ablaze in that one, didn't she? They fucking STOLE that Oscar from her.

It troubles me that all my role models are poor ones. And, you know, dead.

Now that I'm significantly on the wrong side of 30, I'm pretty sure I'm supposed to be part of the establishment. Thing is, that's never been me. Probably never will.

I love my iPhone. Now, If Only I could figure out how to work the fucking thing. Let's just say it's a major step up from my previous mode of communication: 2 tin cans and a piece of string.

If a District Manager for a major international corporation personally calls you at home to set up a face-to-face, that's a fairly good Indicator Of Interest, n'est pas? What about if a woman half your age with a BF tracks you down on Facebook (despite your apparently not as clever as you'd envisioned alias) and e-mails you daily with nary a mention of said obstacle?

 

When was the last time you were truly happy? That you felt complete?

Yeah. Me, either.