Still recovering from this weekend
it's wednesday, 7 days from my series 7 exam, 4 days since I was in boston, and I'm still trying to straighten out my sleeping patterns enough to get through a day without dozing off while trying to do compicated finance tests for hours on end. To make things worse, still no word on my truck, so I'm still on the train. Taking the train isn't bad, but I have to be up an hour and a half earlier to make sure I catch it. Then I get to Morristown at 7:45 and have 2 choices: 1. Walk directly to work and start studying at 8 or sit at burger king and have a coffee. I have been watching my money super close recently and really don't want to get in a habbit of buying breakfast every day. I eat before I leave thanks to some great decisions at the supermarket. Today I chose to just go straight to work. I didn't want any more coffee or food and didn't want to be some wierdo just chilling without buying anything. I had no choice. There is a 3rd choice, but it's not applicable. I could just get my WSJ and sit in the park and read, but that fails for a few reasons. First of all, all the illegals hang out all over the place looking for work, so I'd be surrounded by a bunch of tiny spanish speaking dudes covered in paint. Another problem with that would be that everyone would drive by my perch while they were coming to work or if they didn't see me on their drive, they'd be able to see me from their offices. Anyways... today I went straight to work. I was still dazed and sleepy but I tried to start my testing off right. I'm supposed to take two book finals a day... I barely finished one today and got a 70.7%. I simply can't put up with this shit. It's boring times frustrating at best. If I had my truck today I probably would have bounced on out before 4 o'clock.
I got an IM from The Boston Strangler that I really don't know how to paraphraze, so here it is:
you should some how incorporate into your blog how you "rose up and got your travel on" or how you floss and flew that mofo (the stroke) all up in this bitch, also, you ran up in Boston so deep it be cryin, and u thought it was rain.
Bravo! fantastic message.
I also remembered another reason why I love my friends. I stopped at a toll booth in Mass on the way up to Boston and accidentally bumped the horn with my elboe while putting my wallet back in my pocket. The second Drufus and Hot Carl heard the horn they were ready to hop out of the truck and kill the guy behind me. I had no idea why they were freaking the fuck out, but they were on fire. Then they were talking about how big an asshole that guy was and that he was only being a dick because I had jersey plates. Then I realized why they had flipped into killer mode and let them know it was just me bumping the horn. Nothing like friends who are deadly loyal maniacs who would smack the shit out of some poor bastard for beeping his horn.
I have to be sad for a second. Last night was the first night I've heard the frogs outside. They are chirping away happily as I type. Tonight the air was perfect, the sun was in that happy "not dark, not bright" state, but I was not happy. Something is missing. It sucks to relate happiness to someone. I've realized that I hate a lot of things because of who I associate them with and that's cool with me. I decided that anything west of the mississippi river is dead to me. I hate the chicago bears because of my freshman roommate who was a huge bears fan and a douche bag. I hate Brain Urlacher because I have heard his name 10,000,000,676 times. I hate Jimmy Eat World because CPD was uber gay for them. I hate 100 yard sprints because "heavies, ready, HUP!" And now I hate when things feel right. Why? Because every single time I'd be outside working out, driving, etc and I just took a deep breath and realized that everything was perfect I had to call the final piece to the happiness puzzle and tell her how happy I was to be in love. Now the things that make me feel good bring me right back to thinking about her. Today I was sick from drinking too much coffee and decided for my lunch I'd just take a walk. I was just sauntering through motown and the sun plus the breeze made everything feel perfect. I sweat more than any living creature, but today the breeze was dry and cool even though the sun was hot so I stayed sweat free even though I was in my suit and my trenchcoat. Everything was right with the world. Then I was just soaking it all in and actually reached for my phone before I realized that there was something missing. I was enjoying life, but I was enjoying it alone. I know this isnt' a bad thing. In fact, I think that is the most important thing in life. I never really let myself enjoy things just because I personally enjoyed them. I needed someone to share them with. I had noone to share my happiness with today and that made me feel frustrated. Not sad, just frustrated. I wanted to just call someone... ANYONE... that would appreciate how good I felt and just brag about how happy I am, but there was nobody to call. That and I forgot my cell phone on my desk in my rush to catch the train this morning, but I digress. I seriously was thinking about people who'd really feel happy knowing I was happy. I have the best friends that I could ever wish for, but there are some emotions you don't really want to validate with your dude friends. Then I thought about the women in my life. I have a bunch of lady friends out there, but bothering any of them just to say, "hey, guess what? I'm so happy right now!" wouldn't be right. They wouln't understand the gravity of that statement, nor would I expect them to.
When I was a kid we had a summer house in North Carolina. It was only about 5 blocks from the beach on foot (two blocks as the crow flies...) and it would take about 15 minutes to walk to or from the beach. The blacktop would be cool in the morning before the sun really kicked it's ass, but it was a guarantee if you went back to the house for lunch or if you were leaving in the late afternoon that the road was going to be a smoldering death trap. For that reason we'd always bring flip flops or sneakers with us to the beach. Of course there were times when we'd be in a hurry to go down to the water early in the week either to get some fishing in before the beach got crowded or just because we were kids and couldn't sleep with a beach nearby. Without fail I'd forget my shoes. I'll never forget the pain in my feet walking back. You couldn't walk in the sand because there was cactii all over the place, so you were doomed to walk the 5 blocks on the blacktop.
It hurts like fucking hell to have your bear feet on the scortching hot pavement, but you have to get home. There is nothing you can do but be frustrated you let yourself get in this situation and then just keep on walking no matter how much it hurts. Stopping and freaking out isn't going to make it any better (ask Fil). Getting mad/upset/depressed/whatever isn't going to make the road cool off or your feet stop burning. Screaming, crying, cursing, nothing will make it any faster, but eventually you'll get home. That night your feet would throb from being roasted, but the next day you were that much tougher. Then when we'd come home to Jersey I'd show off to my friends how I could stand in my driveway no matter how hot it was because I'd made my feet turn into stone. This situation I'm in now reminds me of the burning blacktop. No matter how much I hurt inside and how much I wish it would go away there is nothing I can do that will make it easier. I just need to keep trudging ahead and eventually I'll be home safe and better for surviving the torture.
Ari asked me how I was doing today. The only thing I could say is that I'm not used to things the way they are. I miss her terribly, but then again, I don't. I just miss being in love. It's hard to flip that switch, but I think I'm doing a great job at trying.
On a lighter note, I turned on my air conditioner (on fan) tonight because my room was powerful hot. Don't expect it to be off until sometime around November.
For those of you keeping score at home: I used the old man slang "as the crow flies" in a sentence.
Still working on getting the videos up. They are pretty good, but drufus is watching caddy shack with some dame so I have to wait for him to get home to get the website from him.
I got an IM from The Boston Strangler that I really don't know how to paraphraze, so here it is:
you should some how incorporate into your blog how you "rose up and got your travel on" or how you floss and flew that mofo (the stroke) all up in this bitch, also, you ran up in Boston so deep it be cryin, and u thought it was rain.
Bravo! fantastic message.
I also remembered another reason why I love my friends. I stopped at a toll booth in Mass on the way up to Boston and accidentally bumped the horn with my elboe while putting my wallet back in my pocket. The second Drufus and Hot Carl heard the horn they were ready to hop out of the truck and kill the guy behind me. I had no idea why they were freaking the fuck out, but they were on fire. Then they were talking about how big an asshole that guy was and that he was only being a dick because I had jersey plates. Then I realized why they had flipped into killer mode and let them know it was just me bumping the horn. Nothing like friends who are deadly loyal maniacs who would smack the shit out of some poor bastard for beeping his horn.
I have to be sad for a second. Last night was the first night I've heard the frogs outside. They are chirping away happily as I type. Tonight the air was perfect, the sun was in that happy "not dark, not bright" state, but I was not happy. Something is missing. It sucks to relate happiness to someone. I've realized that I hate a lot of things because of who I associate them with and that's cool with me. I decided that anything west of the mississippi river is dead to me. I hate the chicago bears because of my freshman roommate who was a huge bears fan and a douche bag. I hate Brain Urlacher because I have heard his name 10,000,000,676 times. I hate Jimmy Eat World because CPD was uber gay for them. I hate 100 yard sprints because "heavies, ready, HUP!" And now I hate when things feel right. Why? Because every single time I'd be outside working out, driving, etc and I just took a deep breath and realized that everything was perfect I had to call the final piece to the happiness puzzle and tell her how happy I was to be in love. Now the things that make me feel good bring me right back to thinking about her. Today I was sick from drinking too much coffee and decided for my lunch I'd just take a walk. I was just sauntering through motown and the sun plus the breeze made everything feel perfect. I sweat more than any living creature, but today the breeze was dry and cool even though the sun was hot so I stayed sweat free even though I was in my suit and my trenchcoat. Everything was right with the world. Then I was just soaking it all in and actually reached for my phone before I realized that there was something missing. I was enjoying life, but I was enjoying it alone. I know this isnt' a bad thing. In fact, I think that is the most important thing in life. I never really let myself enjoy things just because I personally enjoyed them. I needed someone to share them with. I had noone to share my happiness with today and that made me feel frustrated. Not sad, just frustrated. I wanted to just call someone... ANYONE... that would appreciate how good I felt and just brag about how happy I am, but there was nobody to call. That and I forgot my cell phone on my desk in my rush to catch the train this morning, but I digress. I seriously was thinking about people who'd really feel happy knowing I was happy. I have the best friends that I could ever wish for, but there are some emotions you don't really want to validate with your dude friends. Then I thought about the women in my life. I have a bunch of lady friends out there, but bothering any of them just to say, "hey, guess what? I'm so happy right now!" wouldn't be right. They wouln't understand the gravity of that statement, nor would I expect them to.
When I was a kid we had a summer house in North Carolina. It was only about 5 blocks from the beach on foot (two blocks as the crow flies...) and it would take about 15 minutes to walk to or from the beach. The blacktop would be cool in the morning before the sun really kicked it's ass, but it was a guarantee if you went back to the house for lunch or if you were leaving in the late afternoon that the road was going to be a smoldering death trap. For that reason we'd always bring flip flops or sneakers with us to the beach. Of course there were times when we'd be in a hurry to go down to the water early in the week either to get some fishing in before the beach got crowded or just because we were kids and couldn't sleep with a beach nearby. Without fail I'd forget my shoes. I'll never forget the pain in my feet walking back. You couldn't walk in the sand because there was cactii all over the place, so you were doomed to walk the 5 blocks on the blacktop.
It hurts like fucking hell to have your bear feet on the scortching hot pavement, but you have to get home. There is nothing you can do but be frustrated you let yourself get in this situation and then just keep on walking no matter how much it hurts. Stopping and freaking out isn't going to make it any better (ask Fil). Getting mad/upset/depressed/whatever isn't going to make the road cool off or your feet stop burning. Screaming, crying, cursing, nothing will make it any faster, but eventually you'll get home. That night your feet would throb from being roasted, but the next day you were that much tougher. Then when we'd come home to Jersey I'd show off to my friends how I could stand in my driveway no matter how hot it was because I'd made my feet turn into stone. This situation I'm in now reminds me of the burning blacktop. No matter how much I hurt inside and how much I wish it would go away there is nothing I can do that will make it easier. I just need to keep trudging ahead and eventually I'll be home safe and better for surviving the torture.
Ari asked me how I was doing today. The only thing I could say is that I'm not used to things the way they are. I miss her terribly, but then again, I don't. I just miss being in love. It's hard to flip that switch, but I think I'm doing a great job at trying.
On a lighter note, I turned on my air conditioner (on fan) tonight because my room was powerful hot. Don't expect it to be off until sometime around November.
For those of you keeping score at home: I used the old man slang "as the crow flies" in a sentence.
Still working on getting the videos up. They are pretty good, but drufus is watching caddy shack with some dame so I have to wait for him to get home to get the website from him.
posted by NJX70 at 8:55 PM
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