And I hate who I am
And I hate who I'm not

Tomorrow I go back to work
I barely woke up when I got home today

It's not so bad when I'm there
It's killing me like that

I should just give up
But I don't know if I could stand not to hate it

Quick Update:

I'm still capable of being more of an asshole than I had hoped as evidenced by my spooning watermelon juice onto a friend's jeans last night to win a futile argument. And then saying, "That's a victory for me."

I still hate the job that I have to start back to in the morning since it makes me feel like less of a man to be working for The Man. But then again, making money to support myself makes me feel like more of a man, so I guess the two cancel out. I'm still as much a man. I hope. What even is man?

I still can't cope with my sister since I managed to pass by her and make a silent joke without having to really talk to her the other night at the mall.

I still wonder if this album that the band is working on (mainly Rudy and I) will amount to anything at all. I really want to tour. I don't know if I'll be able to. The old plan was to be done by now so that we could start putting ourselves out there. I think I secretly hoped we'd get some attention before June so that somebody would book us a tour for the Summer. I should really stop keeping plans to myself.

Sorry, don't have any pictures of Jon in chaps yet.

The Way

Winter comes and snow
I can't marry you, you know
Without you the winter grows
I can't marry you, you know

Love me the way i love you
Love me the way i love you

Take a year in your hands
You can find another man
Let your unloved parts get loved
I will be your man

Love me the way i love you
Love me the way i love you

Places you should be afraid
Into the river we will wade

Love me the way i love you
Love me the way i love you

"The Way" by Bonnie 'Prince' Billy

One of my greatest achievements in life is to have remained a virgin till my wedding day and to have married a virgin wife. Clears up a lot of the trouble of worrying whether you're the best the other person's ever had. One can't compare what one has to what one doesn't know; with that in mind I'm glad I only know one woman's body.

I'm not sure if in that second verse, the bolded one, Will Oldham is asking the implied you of the song to go sleep with another guy for a while and then come back or what. Sure seems that way. I don't think I could be down with that. I'm incredibly paranoid. I don't think I could handle being with a woman who'd been with other men to get what she couldn't get from me.

Maybe Will Oldham is such a down fella that he can admit his own failures to this extent. I don't know. If that's the way he loves then I can see why it'd be hard to love him back that way. Not that songwriters write music that literally describes them or anything. Not good ones anyway.

Maybe I should start avoiding that trap.

I Used to Be the Nice Kid

I hope I'm not as big an asshole as everyone around me says. I used to be the really nice kid. Shit.

I hope that in the end everything works out. I play the cynic, but I really live my life like life is gonna work out just fine. Please work out, life.

Please for the love of whatever just work out.

Still W.A.S.T.E.ing Away

I'm still here. It's ten after 8 am and I'm still waiting for Radiohead tickets to start presale. This is really sad. I could have gotten up at a regular time and not missed a thing. I could have slept in my own bed. I am determined to make it all worth it. I'm so dedicated right now.

The last North American presale went up at 8:51 am, so here we go. 40 mins left, maybe. Maybe not.

This Is An Obsession

I am completely ridiculous. It's just after 4am and I've been up for the last hour with Firefox tabs on Radiohead's ticket sale page set to auto-refresh ever 5 seconds. So that I can spend money I don't have on tickets for the greatest band on Earth.

I need a bigger life. I have a life. It just doesn't keep me from doing stupid stuff like this. You know, sleeping on the futon in the living room because my every-half-hour alarms were driving my wife insane. I'm a sad strange little man.

I have all my personal information and credit card details on a notepad at the bottom of the screen so I can copy and paste with lightning speed. I'm a little worried that I might not have a w.a.s.t.e. account for tickets but... hell you don't care.

I figured out why they call it waste.

I have clocks set to three different timezones. I hope this works. This could be my last or only chance to see my favorite band ever. And one day I'll die a happier man knowing I got to see them.

Let's Get Known

So hey, let's get known. If we keep it up, we can show the haters. It's gotta be soon, not later.

So begins the song Let's Get Known by the unbeatable Unicorns. Man, I wish I could write so honestly. When I try I just come off as a 14 year old brat trying to write shit poetry in his notebook before bed. Unfortunately I'm running right out of external problems to write about with any conviction.

Hmmm, how to draw the line between macro-generalized problems and the micro-specified mundane? Who knows.

Most of my favorite songs don't make a lick of sense. I can't even figure out what much of them means. Like Radiohead, Will Oldham, they leave out the full descriptions, but still provide such tedious details as to give vivid imagery.

Vivid images of who knows what. How do you write towards that?

I'm more worried that they don't even try and that the effort I use spells my failure with its very presence.

Motivation

Young Jeezy stays motivated. No doubt. He's got two full albums devoted to motivating thugs. "Because the thugs need motivation, a lawyer team a good case and some dedication."

These last few days I've found that some activities (or the anticipation of them) bring me a semblance of satisfaction. But it smacks of contentment in an animal. Like the horse that feels fulfillment in the pulling of a load and the meal at the end of the day, or the ant that finally gets that bit of breadcrumb back to the hill. It doesn't point towards anything but survival. And why survival?

I make music. I enjoy it. I don't know what I'm making it for. Oh yeah, I want to release a full album in a month or so. The problem is that the last few days I can't find motivation... okay, that's not true. I work on it, and I accomplish things, but I feel like I'm doing it to convince myself of something. I want to believe that it's enough. I'm trying doubly hard (and getting exhausted) in efforts to win me over to my side again.

I love my wife. Very much. I would never leave her, cheat her, or do anything else to willfully cause her hurt. Lately I'm even preoccupied with showing her more affection than usual. I send her cutesy messages throughout the day, I remember to mention all the positive details about her, I do chores and give her anything I can figure out she wants.

I'm just afraid that I'm doing it to convince her. When we're together, finally, I feel distracted, harsh, distant, nitpicky, irritated. I spend all day wishing she was around and then make her feel unwanted when we're finally together. Which is my true self? Can one self be truer?

I'm chalking some of it up to the exhaustion of doing so much. And for what? To convince myself to keep doing so much. Time to sleep. I have no conclusions.

I probably just need motivation like Young Jeezy

Devil's Haircut

I got my hair cut at Countours today by my friend Eric. He is amazingly good at his job. Totally amazing. He makes hair look like hot sex on my head. How? It begins with a miraculous double shampooing and conditioning, then a trim, then a thin, then a styling.



Now I have to improve the rest of my body to match my haircut.

This is the lyric that won't leave my head:

"Death to everyone, is gonna come,
And it makes Jose much more fun."

I have to wear my fancy suit tonight to play a concert at school with my classical Guitar Ensemble which we've decided to name Ride or Die at the encouragement of the "brutal" metal kid who plays with us. This isn't us, but we're playing this song:



Really poppy, but catchy and kind of fun. I play one of the idiot parts, but the other guys get to improv some blazing solos at the end.

Don't Have My Phone

Hey Babe,

I don't have my phone on me today, and I don't have time to run home and get it, so I won't get to talk to you till after 3:00. This is what I would say if I could call you right now:

I am so bummed. I dozed off twice during theory this morning, but I just got done practicing and I feel pretty good about my lesson. I'm very confused about the Socrates/Plato text we're analyzing in philosophy. It's brilliant, I've figured out that much, but it's basically a conversation between two guys, so the structure is hard to find. Anyway, I hope you're not feeling too tired today. Hope you're still up for going out with Cassie and whoever tonight.

I love you.
--
I've Seen This Happen In Other People's Lives
And Now It's Happening In Mine

Wanted: Purpose

So much for productive blogging. I have nothing I care about enough to post anyway. Except a lame want ad.

Seeking: purpose and meaning for life that surpasses overwhelming sense of doldrum. Must be... hell, it can be anything. Must not force me to believe unprovable nonsense that I will eventually shake off as a load of shit.

Offering: hard work with great success when motivated.

Warning: difficult as hell to motivate.

Oh god, somebody I know has the most difficult disposition when she's groggy. And she's been sick for days. Sickness comes with a lot of sleep and sleeps means lots of groggy moments before, during, and after the act. That sentence was difficult to read. Oh well, nobody's reading. Anyway, I feel like the most annoying sack of rot on the planet when she's groggy. I'm incapable of pleasing (which I realize is more important to me than I'd hoped) and guilty if I try to escape.

That's all nonsense. I'm exaggerating.

But I still feel like I'm ready the way that Biggie Smalls and the Unicorns were.

Where I'm Going Tomorrow

I'm going to Florida tomorrow. No, I'm not a senior citizen with a deathwish (that's where they go to die, man.) I'm on a family vacation: one that is forcing me to work my ass off this week to finish all my schoolwork for next week by tomorrow (Friday.)

This is really sucking right now. It will be awesome after tomorrow, but then it'll probably suck again when I get home. Suck suck.

Mmmm, my neck feels so good right now...

Things I'm Afraid of Tonight:

• never being discovered
• being the kind of crazy person that knows they're crazy and can't keep from losing control
• wolves
• continuing a cycle of losing friends, gaining new ones, and losing those
• my house catching fire while I sleep
• losing a limb (especially a hand)
• going deaf
• zombies
• my libido

The Resolutionizing Thus Far

So far I haven't been doing very well with my NeYeRe (New Year's Resolution. (I came up with that on my own. (Yes. It is stupid. (So are multiple parentheses.)))) My attempts to reign in my crazy and be a better man have failed. In fact, I think that both of these options are too crowded out by the phony character I play when I'm at work to even fight over my mindset when I'm off the clock.

Tonight I experienced signs of mental instability in the form of mood swings which forced me to act like the silly, ineffective, (cute,) trying-to-be-funny self that I often indulge only to despise later in the evening. Honestly it was the thought of my beautiful bride which gave me an anchor to sanity again. However, once out of the pure crazy I then turned silly/eccentric. I amuse myself when I'm in that mood, hence the indulgence. Tonight I wasn't upset with myself afterwards, just a little worried.

Some concrete words to say about my struggle thus far:

Sometimes I want to be stoic and strong and a pillar of compassion.

Sometimes I just want to get laid.

Tonight I am finding ways to be ugly.

This should explain the mustache.

To Reconcile Contrary Truth in 2008

Here is the thing about being married to my wife:

I love her more than anything for being an anchor, a spotlight of truth and hope in my life.

Here is the truth about being a 21 year-old wannabe rockstar:

I want to be dangerous and free and respected for my skills as an asshole.

Reconciliation of these two truths is my aim for the new year.

Posting My Thoughts Is Not My Forte

Sitting on the back porch of my, oh wait I don't have a back porch.

Standing outside on the deck of my second story apartment I can see the leaves are bright yellow. The color is similar to the sun which has failed to make an appearance today. The rain drizzles on, occasionally thickening to sleet. I like icee drinks. I hate it when God dumps them on my head. Just kidding, God. But really, I hate it.

Tonight the band practices again. I wrote new songs to rehearse. We'll see how that goes. I better come up with some more specific musical ideas. Coming up with them on the spot isn't really anybody's forte. What does it mean to say something is your forte anyway?

forte1 /fɔrt, foʊrt or, for 1, ˈfɔrteɪ/ Pronunciation Key - Show Spelled Pronunciation[fawrt, fohrt or, for 1, fawr-tey] Pronunciation Key - Show IPA Pronunciation –noun

1.	a strong point, as of a person; that in which one excels: I don't know what her forte is, but it's not music.

2.	the stronger part of a sword blade, between the middle and the hilt (opposed to foible).

So there you go. Apparently not related to the musical term with the little angled line above the "e."

What astonishingly interesting information that is. What a lame first post. What a good time to go to class and think about how I'd rather not be alive than go to class. By the way, I think there's a big difference between wishing you were dead and wishing you weren't alive to be doing what you have to be doing at a particular time. The latter implies that you would like to be alive and doing something else. I'm that one.