Freakin' Allergies

Head throbbing. Nose stuffed up. Eyes itchy. Bleh. Still doesn't explain all the farting.

Major Bummer

I attended a viewing (couldn't stay for the funeral) of a former co-worker today. He committed suicide on the 14th (self asphyxiation from car exhaust) . Man, the dude was only 21. He leaves behind an expecting wife, who has a lot of social anxiety problems. I've been pretty bummed about this for the past week, but I've kept it fairly quiet.

I know most of his family personally and it just doesn't add up. He came from a great and loving family. He was really great with his wife. He worked hard and was a warm, friendly young man. You can't do the math on this kind of tragedy--you'll go mad if you do. There's no one thing that is the cause. There may be a trigger, but it is not the sole reason.

I don't like going to funerals, but this was worse to see a man in his prime laid out in a casket: his family in their best contained sorrow and his sobbing wife, beyond grief, stuck in a dead-eyed stare with her deceased. If I could paint a picture of this scene any better, I'd promptly burn it to hell and rid the world of such a sight.

This was absolutely senseless, but I cannot judge him. I have no idea what was really going on in his world. I can say what things in my life drove me to similar shades of bleak, but I cannot be that person who knows the answer or "knows exactly how they felt", because I don't. There's too much suicide where I live. It can't be glossed over anymore.

The frauds have to own up to the conditions that they've (we've) set upon us. If we allow frauds to be our fathers, friends, or inner voice, they will only lead us over the bridge and into our own reflection--the last thing we'll confront before the impact is the truth--ourselves.

You can read whatever you want to in that last statement. It has its own merry meaning to me. Take care of what is dishonest in your own personal life and seek professional help if that is not enough.

You just want attention

I know I do. It's late and I'm lonely. You'd think that I'd have something profound to say, but no, I'm just horny for your comments.

In other snooze, I have a major sinus headache. There's something for ya!

In smother noose, I did achieve my very important goal that I was worried about--the one I wrote about in the previous post. What was the goal? Seeing how long I could hold my breath under the influence of jazz rock. I did three minutes, eyes closed. Beat that, the rest of yous!

In udder ooze, I did send my cover letter, resume, and application in time--5 minutes before the job closed. I haven't heard anything back yet. The job is a coordinator position for a program that helps disabled adults find careers. I live my life with my "adult" settings mostly disabled, so I figure I'm a shoe-in.

In buttered shoes, I can't get enough of Diet Coke. I think this means I'm going to hell, or McDonald's. Wait...it's the same thing. Glug. Glug. Sluuuuuuuurp! Still feel empty inside.

In gutter booze, I'm more afraid of my dependency of watching "Supernatural" episodes on Netflix, or as I like to call it, my alternative to a "step on my balls with high heels while I freebase cocaine" type problem. I'm not sure what I just said there, but it's late and I'm horny for your comments. Be nice, okay?

Mojo, where art thou?

It's not happenin'. Things are not going my way, it seems. My body is rebelling against me, adding the hurt and magnifying my discomfort. Files that I swore I transferred from my old computer to this computer are nowhere to be found. It appears that I'm not going to achieve a very important goal that I set for myself this week. I want to ball all of this negativity into excrement and crap it out once and for all, light it on fire, and then dance around the stinky blaze, laughing maniacally.

It isn't funny. I actually just found out that I've been wearing my underwear inside out. This explains a lot.