The sky exploded in light and sound that shook me through my very roots; every fiber of my being ripped away from it’s slumber in a sudden and horrifying manner. The static flashes and bangs waged war on my psyche like never before as I lay in bed, heart pounding, fearing.
Even now, as the storm passes, I’m on edge. Wanting comfort and ease of mind, I rose from my petrified state. Alas, I was alone with only my desk light to comfort me. It’s late, everyone is a sleep still so I try to settle down.
And now I wait for sleep to call.
* * *
I’ve had some pretty intense storms, but nothing has ever scared me as such before. A couple came close but I was quickly comforted by my surroundings. I’ve watched lightning storms several times, it’s quite fun, and slept through many as well but this one…
This one woke me up right as I entered REM with the loudest bang I’ve heard. It was horrifying being torn away from sleep like that. I was petrified. I wanted to text Paul for him to just come and talk so I could calm down. Well, that didn’t happen so I just lay there in bed, listening to the storm quickly move away.
I’m glad we didn’t lose power as I would have really flipped the fuck out. I finally managed to get up for a piss and sat down here. Unfortunately, no one was online. Anywhere.
Maybe I’m not in the best of conditions to write. Yes, I’ve drank, heavily for a rather empty stomach.
So today was comprised of gaming and trying to code stuff with WordPress. The around 8pm, Paul asks if I want to go bowling. I say yes and so we leave at 9:45pm. I missed a music show I was supposed to catch at the local bar here but I’m still drunk, so I guess it doesn’t matter?
Ask me in the morning.
I grabbed several drinks whilst bowling to help ease my body pain. It worked fairly well but for a whole round, Argile took over. He’s not all that good at bowling, lol. I had to show him how I do it. Anyways, he had a bit of fun but was more interested in flirting with peoples, except everyone was in groups and this was a bowling alley so there were a lot of underage(17-) peoples there. We were also in a group so we didn’t get to wander.
It’s interesting how I lose track of my ideas sometimes. I had a story behind this…
Oh yea! So my roommate drives us home and we chat a bit. He get back tot he subject of Ali and asks for her phone number and Facebook account. I get it eventually and feel like a real creeper since she removed me from both. I think I know why but it’s been almost a year now so I’d like to make amends.
I, being a bit of a information hoarder, pull up her phone and find her Facebook account. He takes the number and sends her a text. I wonder if that’ll make things better… most likely worse though. He then proceeds to jump on my Facebook and add her as a friend again… Fuck really Paul?
I know I fucked up and I want to say sorry in my own way. Your interference will only make things worse… I think. I didn’t get a chance to see what you sent as text message…
So now I’m talking with Brynn, and old friend of mine from Aylmer. We’re happily going over a lot of things in relationships, visitations and memories.
God I miss the old times…
I miss my penguin as well. I could totally cuddle her to death right now. Not that I want to appear mushy publicly as I’ve made myself a promise some years ago.
Anyways! What the fuck am I saying? More fucking memories to deal with. And hurray for roommate interjection who thinks he’s doing the right thing.
Here’s to dubstep and hardstyle. As I’m Brynn just found a new love for dubstep Skrillex and I’m sharing some hardstyle Blutonium Boy.
Well, almost! If I didn’t need something from the office, I would have spent the day at home working. Not that I already don’t do that during the mornings, but still. There’s a good foot on the ground since early this morning and it’s not stopping. The snow is thick, sticky and perfect for snowmen.
Sidewalks are covered. Banks are high. Pedestrians in the streets. Only -2C. Heavy snow fall. I don’t know why, but I’m really enjoying this.
* * *
BLAM! Out of nowhere I want to play Fallout 3!! Lol fuck I gotta work.
I just bought the 3 latest Command & Conquer games and their expansions. For less then $30.
C&C Red Alert 3
C&C Red Alert 3 - Uprising
C&C 3 Kane’s Wrath
Yea, C&C 4 is on there. I’ve never played it but for $5, I’m curious to see how badly EA fucked up.
Now the only problem I have is I don’t have enough time to invest in playing the way I want to play - hardest difficulty, through and through, starting with C&C 3. I should also invest in Red Alert 2 as I haven’t played those yet either.
My need to play series in … well, series, is somewhat frustrating because it means I have to go back and pickup every game before that, multiplying the amount of hours spent gaming. Hours I don’t have. Anymore…
Paul calls me up asking: “Jon, what’s worse? World of Warcraft or Farmville?”
I haven’t heard much about either in a while since I quit Facebook a long time ago and Paul starting play Heroes of Newerth. I don’t entirely find HoN any better then WoW though as he’s real pissy when he plays and I can’t fucking talk to him about squat without him flipping a shit.
Anyways! I said World of Warcraft but Farmville is right behind it. My reasoning was that WoW destroys lives. Quite literally. Peoples become hermits. People DIEbecause they’re so obsessed with it! I haven’t heard anything as far gone as that for Farmville yet.
What do you think? Which is worst? WoW or Farmville?
So many memories, so much time invested. Four years. On and off like a habit you can’t shake. And that’s what you were. Yet, despite all the times I felt like going insane, I’m one to remember the good. In the end, despite everything, you were a true friend; one that I miss, dearly.
So I reminisce.
And say sorry. Sorry I spoke words that should have never been said between friends. Sorry for imposing myself despite you having draw the line several times during the years. Sorry I was an addict.
I remember the feeling. I feel it. Waiting; lurking. Like the addiction to a fantasy.
So I get home and put stuff down; milk in the fridge, coat on my chair. Then Paul calls me saying: “Hey Jon! You know that whole Ali thing? Well, you should forget the whole part where you didn’t fuck her but, you know, still do like you said you would have done…”
Now, Ali is a complicated story. In short, she was a recurring temptation that could have easily had a heavy impact on my life(and did to a point) but always remained safe in the distance. We never met; she lived 800km out and never said yes. I pushed to meet her several times and even went to say “Ali, I’ll drive over there, book a hotel and fuck you crazy!” Nothing. Nadda. No cigar. God I was pissed.
The reason Paul brought it is because she smoked pot. No doubt, had we hooked up, she would have had the influence over me to try it and smoke with her. So Paul tried to use old strings to get me to start smoking. Nope.
My resolve against drugs have changed some during the years but the core value has only been reinforced. Originally I put peoples down because of drugs, now, as long as it’s only recreational, you can do as you please. Just don’t ask me to join you. I will not join you. With Ali being gone, my weak point has disappeared and my core value of not doing drugs is fortified. Any way you think might entice me will only aggravate me. Don’t explain yourself, it won’t help you either.
Anyways, I reminisce. It’s almost been a year since I’ve talked to her. -Sighs-
* * *
The more you underestimate me, the more I will blow your fucking mind!
The inevitable. Everyone was sick with something around me. It was only a matter of time before something took a hold of me. Right when everyone else got better, the last remnants of this plague swept in and took me as it’s last victim.
I haven’t been up early in the morning; waking well past 9am. That said, I haven’t had a chance to say hello back to France both yesterday and today. It hasn’t really helped my mood missing my chance to catch up a bit with you.
I feel like I’m drunk on my emotions, fatigue and DayQuil. Like that floating feeling but without the happiness usually attached.
* * *
I don’t quite know what to do anymore. I wanted a social life but now going out is clashing with the routine I want to put in place. Not only that but peoples want me to stay late, drink and go well beyond the 11pm limit I want to impose on myself.
This new contract I got will be an interesting time. Seems everyone wants a piece of me as soon as I start getting busy. Several other clients want websites done and several other prospective clients want quotes on some web/graphic work.
“I just had an argument with a girl I know. She was saying how it’s unfair that if a guy fucks a different girl every week, he’s a legend, but if a girl fucks just two guys in a year, she’s a slut. So in response I told her that if a key opens lots of locks, then it’s a master key. But if a lock is opened by lots of keys, then it’s a shitty lock. That shut her up.”—Evie
Social is great. And by Social, I mean Social Media. Social media and sites exist of all types. Tumblr is just another amongst thousands out there. Alas, it seems I encounter a repeating problem.
For the purpose of clarity and stying within my own personal experience, I’ll narrow down my scope of social media sites to blogs and art sites.
Your presence on such sites is the content you bring, provide, create. The presence of many though is to bring content of others, sharing, reposting. Now this is necessary to get more exposure to everyone. I take part in this as well, sharing information which I find relevant to others which might be interested in it. Communicating ideas.
My problem exists between the boundaries of myself and what peoples want to see. I ultimately always want to provide original content. I usually don’t get a lot of attention for what I create since I don’t generally have a lot of exposure. Given the odd time and finding someone else’s posting, though, I’ll repost it to share with the few that care. Then what? Well, I get more followers, replies, requests, likes; you name it. Not for my stuff, for the stuff based on other’s work.
I’m not against fan posts; to each their own. What I don’t like however is if I were to do a lot more of it, I would get an exponential amount more of views then if I didn’t. This is what I hate. You try your best and release your most exquisite, stunning and original work, yet props goes to the stuff you didn’t create.
What ever. I’m getting too into this. So I post a comic of Dr. Who and get additional favs, reposts and followers. Fuck. It’s not for my shit that gets liked, it’s for the other guy’s.
Maybe my problem is not persisting through and pushing more of my own stuff. I get bored; tired of being in my own little corner of the internet trying to get others to acknowledge me and what I provide. Most likely though, it’s my habit of never finishing anyth