my peeps The Boys
RaJ
Tayster
factory_peasant
Surfer Mitch
Scared Bunny
Jake
Hof
my peeps The Girls
Sass
Pajiba
Tristan Roy
Radiohead blue eyes,
crooked teeth,
intellectual,
goofball,
slacker,
socialist.
Stuff and Nonsense
You LOVE Me THIS much
What Came Before
Steff
Crystal
Lyvvie
Cate
OEN
--spared--
Rachel
bitchy
Dlisted
Janet Charlton
MPH
Go Fug Yourself
the pretty pictures
Owen Billcliffe
No Traces
Sam Javanrouh
the professionals blog
Matthew Good
Margaret Cho
Rick Mercer
Tony Pierce
Whil Wheaton
Waiter
shameless self promotion
About Me
This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial 2.5 License.
2005.05
2005.06
2005.07
2005.08
2005.09
2005.10
2005.11
2005.12
2006.01
2006.02
2006.03
2006.04
2006.05
2006.06
2006.07
2006.08
2006.09
2006.10
2006.11
2006.12
2007.01
2007.02
2007.03
2007.04
2007.05
2007.06
2007.07
2007.08
2007.09
2007.10
2007.11
2007.12
2008.01
2008.02
2008.03
2008.04
2008.05
2008.07
2008.09
2008.10
2009.01
2010.01
2010.03
2010.05
when marimba rythms start to play dance with me make me sway
:
I've been told people don't really notice that the blog titles are almost always song lyrics. I've been told I sing like someone strangling a cat. I've been told a lot of things that strike me as odd or unfounded or wrong, not necessarily those things though.
In this new move to the new situation with new basket cases (at present as they did put the cat down) I have been cleaning house on a grand scale. I've gotten rid of stuff that I never would have been able to get rid of just months before. I'm ridding myself of stuff that I was holding onto. Sometimes for sentimental reasons, sometimes out of stubborn insistence I would need/use it later. Yea I'm kinda wacky that way, but I've recycled most of that stuff. Some I have had to throw out totally. It's weirdly liberating to reduce the clutter and still feel completely ok with that. It seems I was attaching an unnatural amount of my personal identity to the stuff I own as a source of identity. My stuff is me, I am not my job etc. Blither blather bla.
I don't care about that anymore. I'm giving it all away. I used to be that kind of person, just give people my stuff, my time, my money and not care why or what for and never expect it back. It's nice to revert to that because I always enjoyed it. It wasn't until I was repeatedly told that what I was doing was a bad thing by giving people things. I was made to feel bad for not feeling used and eventually I resented anyone who wanted anything of me. I can remember it all so clearly now. And I don't care. I don't care that I'm a cold callous person who deal with death and loss with barely a tear, pause or second thought. I don't care that I feed most of my co workers on a fairly regular basis with leftovers and snacks I got myself and didn't want or need. I'm not worried that somehow I'm wrong and that this is further proof that nature botched me but good.
What I worry about is the inordinate amount of bad shit happening to people around me. Car accidents, deaths, sudden illnesses, depressions. It's whirlwind of varying catastrophe around me and I'm either in the eye of the storm or far removed, I just can't figure out which one. It started with me flushing my mp3 player down the toilet and shit has ensued since then.
Along with that has the began my social networking gambit. I joined facebook and started up Myspace again. I really only got MySpace to get John Mayer's blog, who I get to see in concert tomorrow night. That has escalated to Nathan Fillion's blog and both are now my friends. I'm feeling good about that. I have to go shop now so keep blogging.
ghost writer Ambrrrr at 1:46 PM