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Monday, September 26, 2011

No more games.

So my last, oh two dozen posts have been stupid self-indulgent whining. Well, no more of that! I recently came across a notebook that I kept sporadically in high school, like between 2004 and 2006, and it's the most depressing thing I think I've ever read. I had just gotten out of a two month relationship, and you know at fifteen two months feels like forever and your hormones trick you into thinking that you're madly in love and have been since first sight. So there's lots of terrible ranting in there, as well as the lyrics to the first dozen or so songs I ever wrote. It's an interesting piece of my history, but man did I cringe a lot while reading through it.

And in other news, I have a twitter account now. So you can follow my every thought.You know, if you're into that kind of thing.

Enjoy.

Monday, September 19, 2011

Some lyrics, and also some venting.

I've been trying to feel better about things lately. Namely, my love life, or lack of one, or more appropriately, the series of bad decisions and near misses that passes for a love life for me. I'm realizing that I have so much more to be worried about than some girl four hundred miles away. I should be focusing on working, getting my driver's license, or a million other things. However, I notice that it's almost always my bad luck with love that drives my lyrics and my songwriting, so maybe it's a good thing in a way. Since returning from a visit back to Pennsylvania about a week or so ago, I've written six songs, and all but one of them has at least a little bit to do with the aforementioned girl. My favorite of the bunch is a track called Menthol Memories, and the lyrics of which are as follows:

Two reflections briefly converge then fade
From the corner outside my window pane
It stings my eyes and it shortens my breath
Like the taste of those menthol cigarettes

That we would smoke outside,
Feeling young and alive,
Killing ourselves a little bit
With each and every hit.

The sweetness masked the pain
But not the nicotine stains
That formed upon our fingers and our lips.
The buildup was too slow
For us to ever know
Just where it would lead.

Oh, the twists and turns of memory!
Won't you save all your miserable thoughts for me?

I'll gladly keep safe
All that you wish to erase.
Killing myself a little bit
With every small secret.


Now back to what I was originally saying. There are so many other things I should be focusing on at this point in my life. I was given an opportunity to completely change my life when I moved out here to Indiana. Now I need to decide what I want to change, and more importantly, find the motivation to change. I know I want to escape the drugs. This has been the easiest part by far, namely because I have no idea where to buy them here. But the real test will come the next time I am presented with the opportunity to get high, and I can't say with any kind of certainty that I will be able to refuse. I'd like to think I could but well.... We'll see.

Other than that, I have wanted to get back to work. I have done that, though not nearly as often as I would like. Currently, I am working part time repairing powdered metal presses. I do like the work, but I would like it more if it were full time. I would go pick up a second job, but the nature of my current one is such that I could be called tomorrow and told that I need to go spend a week in North Carolina working in the field and I really don't think my hypothetical other employer would be very happy about that. If I could, I would work 60+ hours every week. I need it to keep my mind occupied. Not to mention the money would be fantastic. If I were working that much every week and I saved a quarter of each paycheck, within two years I could probably pay cash for a house.

The other thing I've wanted, and the thing I want the absolute most, is my driver's license. I should have gotten the damn thing six years ago. SIX fucking YEARS I could have been driving on my own. And here I sit, 22 years old, dependent on my parents to go anywhere except the local liquor store. I fucking HATE IT. To that end, I've gotten my Indiana learner's permit and got my car registered, but my car needs tires and quite frankly, I'm broke because I've been off work for the past three weeks. And because of my inability to (legally) drive myself anywhere, I'm not going to be able to go to a sweet concert in Indianapolis tomorrow night. Asking my parents to drive me anywhere is like pulling teeth. And asking my mother in particular to drive me into the city is just a waste of time.

Heh... You know, I didn't want this blog to ever turn into anything that even faintly resembles my old one, yet here I am, bitching and moaning yet again. This is stupid.