I'm back bitches, and I'm twice as raunchy as I was!

The title is a lie.  I have chilled out recently.  I have a title job now, good income, friends, and sometimes actual happiness.  I don't know if this happiness is real or not because the drugs but I try not to delve to far into that train of thought.  I am supposed to write shit down now.  Doc's orders and all.  I think less about things now... or maybe I am just not as trapped in my head as I used to be.  I have made a lot of discoveries about myself and I keep making more.  The main one, I am, without a doubt, an asshole.  Through and through.  I am self-centered, egotistical, and a pathological liar  (oooo but what if THAT is a lie, HEHEHE?!?! It isn't, shut the fuck up).  With these discoveries I have options.  Those options are all fucking difficult things to do.  Things I still feel like I shouldn't have to do but know that I need to.  I lost her, my version of Californication's Karen, because I am me.  I am not trying to change myself for her though, that train has sailed onto bluer skies.  I am trying to change for someone that you would think I, as a self-centered, egotistical asshole, would try to change for first.  Me.  Yup.  I hate me.  I also think I am a pretty cool dude.  I do shitty things to people I care about all the time.  I also think of myself as a good Samaritan-like motherfucker.  I hate so many things about my life.  I am so grateful for what I have left.  And now back to hating myself.  Rinse, repeat.  I am trying.  Really, really hard to make the right changes... for me.  Not for anyone else, even if it was someone else who started me on this path many years ago.  Still, part of me thinks I am doing it for her, so that she doesn't feel like she wasted years with this piece of shit, sorry excuse for a boyfriend/friend/fuck buddy/whatever the fuck we were sometimes.  I am never going to not be sorry to her. Ever.  But that can't be the only reason I change.  It won't stick for those reasons, because I've tried those reasons before.  I get somewhere for a few months and then go right back into the assholery (new word?).  So I will keep working, for myself, with myself, supported by myself.  I am going to have to change my settings so people from my work life can't read this shit.  Would not be a fun staff meeting.

Anyways, guess that is all you get.  I will try to make this a regular thing, but I like writing on pen and paper more.  I guess this feels more out there though.  More to an audience.  I've always liked the idea of being the Trueman in a Trueman show scenario.  "Why, hello there self-centered, egotistical asshole. How long have you been there?"  "Always."

Thank you, and good night.

Everything is better naked.

I am pretty sure everything is better naked.  Here is my life of things I find better "in the nude".

1. Sleeping? Better naked.
2. Eating? Better naked.
3. Stretching? Better naked.
4. Bathing/Showering? Much better naked.
5. Salad? Better naked.
6. Water Sports (NOT in Africa)? Better naked.
7. Driving? Better naked.
8. Reading? Better naked.
9. Sex? Better naked...sometimes
10. School Pictures? Better naked.
11. Work ID Pictures? Better naked.
12. Your sister's Thanksgiving "Get-Together"? Better naked.
13. Computer Repair? Better naked.
14. Texting? Better naked.
15. Sexting? Better naked.
16. Going to church? Better naked.
17. Leaving church? Better naked.
18. Making your bed? Better naked.
19. Doing laundry? Better naked.
20. Selling illegal substances? Better naked.
21. Listening to music? Better naked.
22. Playing video games? Better naked.
23. Scaring Mormons? MUCH better naked.
24. Going to jail?...let's skip this one.
25. Interpretive dance? Better naked.
26. Office parties? Better naked.
27. Nude beaches? Surprisingly better naked.
28. Normal beaches? BETTER NAKED.
29. Sacrificing yourself to save the rest of the group of survivors? Better naked.
30. Writing a blog? Better naked.

That is all you get. Leave me a comment if you come up with any more things that are better when you are naked! Or just ignore this and go about whatever the fuck you were doing.

Less angry at the world now, just float.

Well, that LAST post I put up was alittle much. It was very accurate and still carries truths in it for me but anger and sadness changed into sorta this...nothingness. It isn't so much nothingness as it is the absence of things. I am very dependent on PANDORA now. Just keep playing my "Smashing Pumpkins" channel.

I don't like to do things anymore. The only things I like now are running, my tattoo, and (can't believe I cam going to write this) work. Running hurts and that pain keeps my mind occupied. The tattoo is something that needs attention and care at this time and so I have something to take care of. And work, gives me money that I store away in the bank for....nothing. Kinda like a dragon, just let my riches grow and then have some faggoty hobbit and dwarves fuck my shit up.

I don't even know why I write these things. I think only one person knows about them (other than me) and she doesn't read them (I think). My therapist says these help me out alot because there isn't anyone I want to talk to anymore and it gets my random thoughts out there. Therapeutic. Pandora just started playing "Float on" by Modest Mouse. This song is my 3rd favorite song in the world. It gets me through stuff. It describes me very well right now. Just floating on. Glad I got through that drowning thing.

I guess I am still sad but it is to be expected. This is probably the worst blog thing I have written on here but I don't give a fuck. I just want to be done with this. Done with these thoughts. Done with these feelings. Not the suicidal stuff but sad. I miss sleep. I miss happy. I miss her. I know this is a lame way to end the blog. Deal with it.

If at first you don't succeed, let life kick you in the teeth for trying again.

Fuck my life. Let life fuck my life. Let life fuck my life to near death and then nurse my life back to health and then fuck it again and continue the process until the end of time. Why did I push a touchy subject when I knew the outcome would be the equivalency of my being thrown from a moving vehicle into oncoming traffic on the autobahn (I DON'T KNOW HOW THE AUTOBAHN IS PUT TOGETHER OR IF THERE IS EVEN ONCOMING TRAFFIC AND I REFUSE TO DO RESEARCH DURING MY RANT).

I was finally happy, like happy happy. I had a plan, I had a future, I had a goal. Now I don't. I caused this, I am aware of this now, but I saw it coming. I refused to take it head on earlier and I had no choice but to confront it. It won, as I assumed it would, and now I am (what people in my field of work like to call) "Fucked". Not the good kind of fucked either. The bad kind of fucked. 

The worst part is I can't even do anything about it. All I can do is bitch to an audience of a whomping zero and take my Prozac. Speaking (typing) of Prozac, I am taking Prozac now! Apparently I probably should have been taking this stuff for years now but I am just recently getting on it. I don't like the idea of having to take medicine to make me be able to go to work in the morning or hang out with friends in the evening. It sort of takes the "extremes" away from my emotions. It is nice to not be super depressed/angry all the time but I can't be super happy either. Fuck my life.

And in current news, I cannot leave this god forsaken town for 10 months. That is 10 months of flashbacks and regrets. Thank you community college school system, thank you.

Why I hate moose.

  Most people, after reading my post title, would be like "What!? You hate moose!? What in the name of our sweet, magical lord is wrong with you?!" To this I would reply, "Have you ever been chased by a moose?" to which most reader would most likely respond to with a resounding "No." Some of you out there have been chased by a moose before and are all like "I have had my encounters with moose and they are majestic creatures and blah blah blah." but those people are stupid and I feel as though that after the third time of being chased by a moose, even those damn hippies would be a little agitated by a moose. That's right! Three times! Each time was equally horrifying and traumatic, but for different reasons.

ENCOUNTER #1

Picture yourself on the warmest beach on earth...and suddenly replace that beach with -7 degree Fahrenheit weather, Alaska, and wishing you were on the warmest beach on earth.  I walked to school everyday and this never seemed like a big deal to me. This morning was no different. I put on roughly 4 jackets and a wind breaker and my backpack and ventured out of the safety and warmth (not really warm, our heater broke so we used fire. Old school shit) of my home. I walked down the familiar street, heard the familiar sounds, and smelled the familiar smells. Then I noticed something. A large, dark shape, roughly the size of a small Ford truck, raise itself from behind a neighbors house. In hind sight I should have just gone back home, but I was worried my mom wouldn't believe me and then I would loss my video game privileges, so I started to run. 

This was very much a large mistake on my part. The large shape quickly emerged from the darkness to reveal a cow moose and her young calf. If you are not familiar with these terms (COUGH idiot COUGH) a cow is a full grown female moose and a calf is a young, "baby" moose. And "thou shalt not fuck with thine baby" is a mother moose's motto. She charged me. I looked backwards at this quickly approaching Demon Horse and decided that it was maybe two large to get me if I went under a car. So I did. This was my first time hiding underneath a vehicle to prevent myself from being trampled to death but it certainly wasn't my last. After the cow gave up on crushing my puny, human body into dust, she decided to lay down the the lawn next to the car I hide under.  I looked across the street and saw another car that had enough room for me to get under. I built up my imaginary, 8 year old courage and crawled out from under my steel protector. I bolted towards the red pick-up truck and slid underneath it. This caught the attention of the calf, which in turn, caught the attention of the cow. She moved slowly over to the lawn by the car I was now hiding under. 

We continued this process up the street until I ran out of cars to move to. So I waited....and waited...and waited... until those goddamn moose moved back down the street. By this time I had played hide and wait with the moose for an hour and a half. The school had called my mom. Mission failed. I stealthily made my way back home and walked inside and sat down in the living room. My mom scolded me for not coming home as soon as I encounter the moose. I had frostbite on all my fingers and all but one toe. This was the beginning of my hatred for moose.

Now some of you may be like "You were just stupid in this event and you could have avoided it." to which I reply "Fuck you, moose are goddamn frightening and I was only 8." I was gunna post all three encounters in this post but I think I will write the next one later. Moral of this story is "Keep in mind all the high clearance vehicles in your neighborhood." Now click that "Next Blog" button or whatever the hell you people do.

Why was this so hard?

I don't understand why making a blog is so hard. My "original" idea for a blog's title was "The Robin's Nest". Apparently, someone had already taken that back in 2004 and they had only written one post on it. It was about education or some bullshit, I only got through the first few words of it. But all the same, I had to come up with a different name for my blog title. So I thought "NOT The Robin's Nest". This is the best I could come up with. Yup, that should give you insight into how intellectual my blog posts will be. I'm not even writing this right now. I am having my lovely assistant (girlfriend) type it out for me. So yeah, I really wanted this to be called "The Robin's Nest", and now I'm just bitter.

Go to hell other Robin. GO. TO. HELL.

P.S. I am sure the other Robin is nice and everything, but they stole my goddamn url, and left their blog to rot    alone on the internet, with it's like twelve views or something.