Ugh. I made a BIG mistake today...I woke up.
Everything after that was crap. I have no one else to blame. It's all my fault. Me, myself, I...Jason. The long weekend didn't help. Three days off, away from all the crap I'm usually percolating in, and I made the mistake of feeling human again. Silly me, I'm not a person...I'm a fucking shit-catcher. I catch-shit. That's why God put me here.
I fucking hate that people actually read this...I'd like to go on a rant about a few things, but even this blog (a place where I am supposed to be able to vent/express myself) has been hijacked. It's all a bit too much for me. Sometimes I fantasize about running away from it all.
A few weeks ago, I had an amazing dream. It was one of those dreams where all kinds of crazy time passes (even though it's just one night). Have you ever had one of those? It was great. I ran away (we won't go into the nitty-gritty details). But here's the rub: I actually got away!!! The bulk of the dream wasn't the act of running away, but the alternative to my current situation that I FLED to. It was great. My boss wasn't a relative. No one had any expectations of me (too high or too low). I didn't have to deal with psychos trying to run me over. I didn't have any money, but I wasn't pressured to have any...so it was cool.
No parents/wife to disappoint. No sisters to piss-off.
It was fucking great. Then I woke up. At first, I didn't know where I was. I started to freak out...what the hell happened??? Where is my paradise??? Oh. It was all a dream. Great.
How the fuck did I let everything get so out of hand? I don't know. God I want a cigarette. I'm not going to give into that impulse, though. It'll just cause me to catch more shit (which I sure as hell don't need). Plus I had one last week, and all it did was make me feel sick/worse.
I'm supposed to be working on my writing, but instead I'm drinking a Fosters and trying to figure out what the hell happened to my life. When did it turn to shit? I think my biggest mistake was my current job. Never should have taken it. Beyond that...who can say? I think the second biggest mistake I made was picking English as a major. Followed by graduating college. Followed by having the pathetic dream of writing. Followed by this blog. Followed by breaking up with my first girlfriend Sheri in like third grade. Followed by sneaking a peek at that NES my parents bought me back in 1989. From there, my memory is fuzzy...but let it be known: there were mistakes made.
Now, Leah's going to read this and be pissed. Mom and Dad are going to read this and be pissed. Brenda's going to read this and be pissed. Amber's going to hear about this from my Mom (she don't read this) and be pissed. Godzilla is going to read this and be pissed.
Be pissed. I'm pissed. What the fuck people?! I catch SHIT all day. What am I supposed to do? Smile and like it? I don't even know why I'm here, catching all this shit, and yet I keep doing it. Day after day. I mean, I know this rant is starting to get "out of hand" but it's true. I have painted myself into a nice, neat little corner and now I'm freaking out.
My Dad bitching about 2012/End of the World. My little sister has boobs. BOOBS!
I'm freaking out. I'm freaking out man...FREAKING OUT!!!
There's a black dude, a woman, and a geriatric running for the White House. Freak out!!!
Gas is killing me. Freak out!!!
The economy. Freak out!!!
Jobs. Freak out!!!
The. Freak out!!!
A. Freak out!!!
What the hell was this blog post about anyway? I can't even remember anymore. Oh yeah, all the catching of shit that is going on (by me). What more can I say people? I'm at my wits end. I'm running out of ideas, steam, cash, time, etc.
Life is good.
UPDATE: You know, the more I think about it...the more I think the above might seem a bit whiny. It might also seem like I'm blaming everyone else for my problems. Let me just say: I realize that ALL of my complaints/problems are 100% my own fault. The only person to blame is me.
That's probably the REAL reason I'm so pissed. I'm mad at myself.