Alas, I Am Alone

For some reason, it feels more intimate to write a post on my phone than it does on my laptop. When I sit down at my laptop to write now, I feel like I need to write some kind of an epic post. Something either smart or funny or insightful… but not something sort of informal and off-the-cuff. 

Stupid, I know. 

I have a bizarre relationship with the written word write now when combined with public access and my own honesty. I got burned, so… once bitten, twice shy. And the bite changed me forever and stole something that I used to love so much. The ability to openly write without fear of repercussion.

Embrace The Suck

So I know that I need to update this more frequently. I have things that I can share. And share I will.

I put in an application for a new job this afternoon. I’m excited about it because it isn’t the chaos and insanity of my current job. I don’t mind my job; often my job is very interesting. However, I’ve grown to hate our client and that is probably not the best feeling to have when you ONLY have one client. And it is taking a personal toll, so I think I need to move on.

Can I put in an online application for a new spouse somewhere? Because I think I need one of those too. YEAH, DIVORCE MOTHERFUCKER!!

In other news, I’m sick of having to trim my nails. I’m not saying that I want to grow my nails long to defy gender stereotypes… I like having short nails. I just hate having to do the upkeep to keep them short. Constantly, I have to clip all ten of my fingers and all ten of my toes and it is a pain in the ass. (Now, I just re-read that and I think I may be admitting I’m super lazy. I’m not sure.) Maybe part of that pain in the ass that bothers me most is the hunt to find the goddamn nail clippers. Maybe.

Back to work for a second; I have to work tomorrow morning… pull some overtime. And I’m going to end up missing Man U beating the shit out of Swansea… kick off at 8:00am local time. And Arsenal kicking the shit out of Crystal Palace… at 8:00am again. And Chelsea pumping Burnley like they were the prom queen in the back seat of a rusted-out Trans Am. Just at 8:00am and in England. With bad teeth. And maybe in the ass.

 

Dogma

All we want is a headrush
All we want is to get out of our skin for a while
We have nothing to lose because we don’t have anything
Anything we want anyway…
We used to hate people
Now we just make fun of them
It’s more effective that way
We don’t live
We just scratch on day to day
With nothing but matchbooks and sarcasm in our pockets
And all we are waiting for is for something worth waiting for
Let’s admit America gets the celebrities we deserve
Let’s stop saying “Don’t quote me” because if no one quotes you
You probably haven’t said a thing worth saying
We need something to kill the pain of all that nothing inside
We all just want to die a little bit
We fear that pop-culture is the only culture we’re ever going to have
We want to stop reading magazines
Stop watching T.V.
Stop caring about Hollywood
But we’re addicted to the things we hate
We don’t run Washington and no one really does
Ask not what you can do for your country
Ask what your country did to you
The only reason you’re still alive is because someone
Has decided to let you live
We owe so much money we’re not broke we’re broken
We’re so poor we can’t even pay attention
So what do you want?
You want to be famous and rich and happy
But you’re terrified you have nothing to offer this world
Nothing to say and no way to say it
But you can say it in three languages
You are more than the sum of what you consume
Desire is not an occupation
You are alternately thrilled and desperate
Skyhigh and fucked
Let’s stop praying for someone to save us and start saving ourselves
Let’s stop this and start over
Let’s go out – let’s keep going
This is your life – this is your fucking life
We need something to kill the pain of all that nothing inside
Quit whining you haven’t done anything wrong because frankly
You haven’t done much of anything

Someone’s writing down your mistakes

Someone’s documenting your downfall

‘Tempest’ by VNV Nation

These are not words, they’re only feelings
There are no sounds that you can hear
There is no form that you can touch
There are no colors for you to see

The only sound is a distant thunder
A tempest rages so far away from me
I walked for miles and I started running
Towards the sound and storm where you might find me
Towards the sound and storm where you might find me

And I ran until I had the feeling
That the tempest I had heard surrounded me
Here my heart so filled with loving
Cried out and told of wonders that I feel
Cried out and told of wonders that I feel

Here my heart is so filled with loving

And I tell myself, I keep repeating
That your ways are bringing you to me
And I tell myself, I keep repeating
That your ways are bringing you to me

And I tell myself, I keep repeating
That your ways are bringing you to me
That I will find my true salvation
That these ways of mine are bringing you to me

That I will find my true salvation
That these ways of mine are bringing you to me
I tell myself, I keep repeating
That your ways are bringing you to me
Are bringing you to me

Because here my heart, so filled with loving
Crying out the wonders that I feel
Here I will find my true salvation
And my ways are bringing you to me

I tell myself, I keep repeating
That your ways are bringing you to me
Bringing you to me