I'm so sick of being just a convenient friend. I am done with being blown off time and time again. I've got three friends I know will always be there for me, and sadly all of them may are mostly memories. I'm just done with all this. Done done done done done. If I weren't such a nice guy and if I didn't have a conscience I would be living as I could elsewhere. Preferably out of country.

5 Minutes

TOP 5 REASONS I LOVE CHIMICHANGAS

1. They taste like victory!
2. They don't talk back!
3. I get to use my mouth!
4. They are there for me!
5. They love me back!

Sooooooo

A needle pulling thread

You guys totally didn't miss me.  But that's alright.

I didn't miss you either.

Here. Have some funnies I had lying around my hard drive.

We all know what his font means! If you don't know... well you haven't stalked my blog enough. 

Ummm... once upon a time there was a (not so little) boy who had friends. Sometimes he'd even speak to them. Then magically there came an enchanted friend who made this boy very happy and filled his life with joy. 

Wasn't that a lovely story? I liked the part when the boy had the imagination.

Gone

I'm so sick of caring.

Words say one thing, but your actions say elsewise.

I so wish I could find it within myself to trust. I'm sorry. It just doesn't happen anymore. Every time I've tried it just hurts more and more.

Longing

Do not stand at my grave and weep;
I am not there. I do not sleep.
I am a thousand winds that blow.
I am the diamond glints on snow.
I am the sunlight on ripened grain.
I am the gentle autumn rain.
When you awaken in the morning's hush
I am the swift uplifting rush
Of quiet birds in circled flight.
I am the soft stars that shine at night.
Do not stand at my grave and cry;
I am not there. I did not die.

Is it wrong to cut just to see the blood spill?

To watch it as it hits the ground?

Watch as it fills my thrill.

Forever bound.

The promise of the razor blade

To love the blood, the color, the smell

These scars, Handmade.

Every time i say a farewell.

In a note, I write my Goodbyes.

All my regrets and Lies.

Here i stand, blood split, all said and done.

I have lost.

The thought of death, won.

Lonely Life

Lonely on the land I walk,
Lonely cross the sea I sail,
Lonely air of beach I stroll –
This lonely life doth take its toll.

Lonely trek of woodland trail,
Lonely mist in haze o’ dawn,
Lonely spies the bird of prey
In lonely circles all astray.

Lonely be the dark of night
When sleep is but a yearning wish,
To dream of sweet companions close,
As wine would pair with diner's dish.

Lonely do these thoughts me make
That draw my blood of precious life;
Replace with stream of flowing pain
To bless my veins with coursing strife.

Lonely years are now my friends,
Lonely cries bereft of sound,
Lonely tears that cool my face
In lonely life of sullen pace.

  --Mark R. Slaughter

Busy, busy, busy. 

Busy here.

Busy there.

All I know are busy everywhere.

Never here. 

Never there.

My heart is busy, somewhere.

*Heavy sigh*
I'm tired of waiting. 

I'm sick of being forgotten. 

I'm jaded by hope.

All around I'm just sick of emotion.

Maybe if I disappear for awhile life will be better.

Yep

So once upon a time I posted fairly often. These past six months or so I've hardly even visited this place, and most of you know why. 

Here's the post where I let all you people in on what's going on for me, but I find I have been having such a hard time portraying what I feel with words. In their stead, I shall post some songs with some lyrics that may or may not render me to tears.

My father is dead. 

Nothing fancy about it. He's dead.

If you want to know the worst part, go look at the post prior to this one. That made it hurt so much.

In other news, life goes on. The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a wind rose. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was a beginning. 

Best not jinx myself here... but it's getting to be springtime and you know what that means for me. Yeah. It's pretty bad this time. I'm afraid.

Frustration

Frustration.

I just have so much of it right now. Frustration from doing two all nighters in a row for work (the second of which ended up being an eighteen hour shift, projected to only be nine hours), frustration for more than a hundred unsold pies, frustration about work becoming my life, frustration, frustration, and even more frustration. I could rant on and on about my frustrations but I won't subject you to them all. Today I really just need to vent about one thing: my father.

Right now I suggest looking up a song called ''Out of Thin Air'' from Alladin and the King of Thieves.

People always ask me why I call him father rather than dad. To me it is a simple answer. Dad is a term of endearment, of familiarity, of love. He is my father. He imparted some of his genetics to me, started that spark of life. There used to be a time when I called him Dad but sadly that is gone.

You see, he used to be engaging, a people-person. He used to be able lift forty pounds and walk a straight line. He used to laugh and enjoy the little things in life. He used to get up before dawn every morning, just so he could watch the world wake. He used to be the man I wanted to be like.

He was so much. Now, now he isn't much of anything. He picked up heavy drinking about seven years ago. At first it was only sparingly at social events, then only at social, then sparingly at home and you see the pattern. It really jumped at the beginning of that last recession so many years ago. He had been a realtor and housing died, so no work. Details overlooked, he crawled into his bottle. Ever since then he has been perpetually inebriated, only sobering a little for a shift at work then back to the bottle. Passed out at home, waking long enough to yell about how inadequate the rest of us were and to stick some food in his mouth followed by liquor.
 
The past couple years was worse, more often than not he would forgo the food and only drink. Family fights escalated, so much so that he started striking my mother and I broke some of his ribs. The list goes on and on.

Now, now he is paying the price of his lifestyle. For years I had told him he was going to die before I got married if he carried on the way he was. Two weeks ago he got ''sick''. He missed work, he wouldn't get out of bed, he wouldn't eat, he bloated. This was a Thursday. The next day, Friday, he missed again and had swelled considerably. We implored him to visit a doctor, he denied our requests. The man hadn't the strength to get out of his own bed unassisted but still refused. This is when I noticed something, the white of his eyes were yellow and he had difficulty concentrating. A quick google search later and my suspicions were confirmed. Cirrhosis of the liver. He had pickled his liver, turned it into a mass of scar tissue. Apparently on that Saturday my family convinced him to go to a doctor who only reaffirmed my conclusion. This doctor also told him that he had to stop drinking alcohol completely or he would die within the year. When I returned on Sunday, I returned to a sober father. I can't tell you the last time that ever happened. He also had several prescriptions and was scheduled for bloodwork and plenty of lab test with a specialist. Its been about two weeks since and he has gone more downhill. Now he has a chemical imbalance which has increased his overall level of confusion. He is now hallucinating as well. Regardless of his mental state, or the fact that his arms are widest at his wrists, or that his legs are little bigger than his arms, there is some good news. Last night, after finding him in my room at two in the morning and after returning him to his bed, he looked me in the eyes and said something. It was such a little thing. ''We'll compare scars in the morning.'' It such a stupid line, it stems from the movie Lethal Weapon. The beautiful thing is I used to compare recent bumps and bruises and scars with my Dad. For that small moment when I looked into those dulled and yellowed eyes and saw a glimmer of playfulness and hear that sentence, I was overcome by hope.

For this, I am thankful.

Untitled

RHey there. I've figured it has been too long since I've given a proper update of my life. Sadly, a proper update is not in this post. Life has been hectic. Not too long ago I was working 220 hours months and it was no bueno. I lived at work, that was all I had time for. Work and my three hour nap. Somehow I sneaked food in.

Last week I quit my second job and now will only be working in the Riverwoods as assistant pastry and making ALL the sweetbread for both Provo stores. One would think that I would finally have free time for fun stuff, but that is wrong. My family has moved and that has consumed my free hours the past week. I am so glad we have all the hard stuff done now (mostly I'm thankful I no longer have to do heavy lifting by myself).

Ummm I do believe this is the point in the post where I try to make myself seem human and vulnerable. Foolish fleshbags, I am invincible.

But yeah... I hate having to sit around and watch somebody slowly kill themselves day by day. I hate that no matter what I do, nothing I accomplish matters to them, that they blind themselves and bind themselves further to Death.

I also miss cuddling. It is such a stupid activity when you think about it. I mean you sit around with somebody and pretty much do nothing. That's one of the best parts. Being able to just sit around and be at peace, to open up enough to someone to be able to just relax. Sharing warmth and sharing thoughts, enjoying the moment and sometimes revelling in the beauty of our natural world. Not to mention there really is something about holding somebody who seems so delicate but feels so strong. Like they are anchored to the earth, that they can endure all.

Hey. You guys really shouldn't let me ramble on like that. It might make me seem like I care.

Workplace Vocabulary

NEW WORKPLACE VOCABULARY

BLAMESTORMING: Sitting around in a group, discussing why a deadline was missed or a project failed, and who was responsible.

SEAGULL MANAGER: A manager, who flies in, makes a lot of noise, craps on everything, and then leaves.

ASSMOSIS: The process by which some people seem to absorb success and advancement by kissing up to the boss rather than working hard.

SALMON DAY: The experience of spending an entire day swimming upstream only to get screwed and die in the end.

CUBE FARM: An office filled with cubicles.

PRAIRIE DOGGING: When someone yells or drops something loudly in a Cube farm, and people's heads pop up over the walls to see what's going on.

MOUSE POTATO: The on-line, wired generation's answer to the couch potato.

SITCOMs: Single Income, Two Children, Oppressive Mortgage. What yuppies turn into when they have children and one of them stops working to stay home with the kids.

STRESS PUPPY: A person who seems to thrive on being stressed out and whiney.

SWIPEOUT: An ATM or credit card that has been rendered useless because the magnetic strip is worn away from extensive use.

IRRITAINMENT: Entertainment and media spectacles that are annoying but you find yourself unable to stop watching them. The J-Lo and Ben wedding (or not) was a prime example.

PERCUSSIVE MAINTENANCE: The fine art of whacking the crap out of an electronic device to get it to work again.

ADMINISPHERE: The rarefied organisational layers beginning just above the rank and file. Decisions that fall from the adminisphere are often profoundly inappropriate or irrelevant to the problems they were designed to solve.

404: Someone who's clueless. From the World Wide Web error message “404 Not Found,” meaning that the requested document could not be located.

OHNOSECOND: That minuscule fraction of time in which you realise that you've just made a BIG mistake.

WOOF'S: Well-off Older Folks.

CROP DUSTING: Surreptitiously farting while passing through a Cube Farm.

A hug :-)

Oh my goodness. I just want to run 

I really have this huge urge to go off to Europe. I want to go see, I want to go and do. For somebody who is so used to randomly and rampantly rambling, I am at a loss of words to fully express how I feel as of now. It feels so right for me to go and the timing works rather very wonderfully. Oh gosh. I really need to quit thinking.


Other awesome news in my life? Well... not so much. Though I totally had the most pleasant surprise I've had in a long while, the other day. I was at work (like I always am), just grinding away at the stone, when I just so happened to look up. What to my most pleasant surprise, I saw a friendly face!! Now this face was deep into a debate on some subject with their peers (I do believe the subject was Humanities) and did not notice my advance. That is she did not notice my advance until about three steps into it. I was going to be perfectly content to just walk on up and say my salutations. For her, this was not so. She immediately cried out, "BOURNE!" and proceeded to fly out of her seat and around the tables to get to me, for I was on the other side of the railing. Let me tell you, it's been awhile since I've had a flying hug. One would not think that a wisp of a girl would be able to impact me so much, but I nearly lost my balance when I was hugged. It was so very fine. The mandatory catching up and small talk commenced and I spent two or three minutes more than I should have chatting, but it was well worth it.

   Isn't it so strange how a smiling face can drastically improve your day? How a simple embrace can send your spirit soaring? How all these tiny interactions go on to have a Ripple Effect? I love it.

Flutterbies

Girls. Girls are an unending source of confusion and aches. The worst part is, they are just so cute and irresistible. It's true that I can manage to stay away for awhile, but I can't stop heading back for more punishment.

  Did I mention they're confusing? Definitely.

 Umm... I think that weird feeling is coming back again. You know... the one where I feel like I'm pulling out of a dive in an airplane. Oh yeah... I forgot that none of you have actually done that...

Awkward: adjective Lacking skill or dexterity

Awkward definitely describes a great many things about me. Awkward times I laugh, awkward statements, but most importantly (detrimental) awkward attempts at courting. 


Seriously. The past few days at work I've just been all but falling on my face. 

And now a quote from one of my favorite movies, The Gods Must be Crazy, "...I do want to talk to her. I'll tell her, I'll say "Look, Miss Thompson. I know you think I'm an idiot, but normally I'm quite normal. It's only when I'm in the presence of a lady that I... It's really just an interesting psychological phenomenon. If a man who is susceptible to a type of para-Freudian syndrome like this encounters a nubile female, what happens?"