An Open Apology

I apologize to everyone I've encountered, spoken to, or even looked at in the last few weeks. I'm sorry if I've said too much or not enough. I apologize if I looked at you wrong or didn't look at you at all. I'm sorry if I clung onto you or pushed you away. I apologize if I hurt you or loved you too much. I'm sorry and everything is my fault.  
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 9:38 PM

  19th Nervous Breakdown

So I'm in the middle of a nervous breakdown. And when you're in a long distance relationship, it doesn't take much to make a mistake. I made one today. Everything I do seems to be a mistake lately. I'm honestly thinking of running away. Just leaving here, finding a brand new place to live, and just getting out of here. I hate it here, but I know that I'd love it there. But I can't go there yet because I know if I did I would eventually have to go back.

All I want to do right now is hold her. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 8:05 PM

  Reality Bites:

Lelaina: I just don't understand why things can't go back to normal at the end of the half hour like on the Brady Bunch or something

Troy: Well, cause Mr Brady died of Aids... Things don't work out like that.

Lelaina: I was really going to be something by the age of twenty-three.

Troy: Honey, all you have to be by the age of twenty three is yourself.

Lelaina: I don't know know who that is anymore.

Troy:

I really need a Troy right now to finish that. I don't know who I am anymore. I feel like something inside of myself is missing. I don't think there's ever been a "self" of me. In elementary school I was "The Cool Kid's Friend" or My brother's younger brother. Later on I just became "so and so's friend" or "the guy in my [fill in subject] class". I've always felt like my father's son or my mother's baby or my cousin's cousin or the guy who used to like so and so... Maybe I'm going through an identity crisis? I just don't know who I am... I don't think anyone can know who they are unless someone else tells them. I do know one thing about myself... I'm tired. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 10:16 PM

  Crossing The Line

For those of you who don't know, I've been watching four hours of Dawson's Creek a day on TBS until it's "Bittersweet Finale on May 15th". Well, I've seen a lot of things that might shock and appaul someone - sleeping with your teacher, getting drunk and falling off a pier, dying while driving and eating an ice cream cone (that was so stupid) - but today something just totally made me gasp. Jennifer Lindley, you may have done some bad stuff when you were youngin' in New York City and disrepected your Grams' religion, but today you crossed the line. She took her cheating boyfriend's (Charlie) autographed Pinkerton CD and threw it in the garbage. To quote Doug Linus "Something wrong... something wrong with dat" 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 12:19 PM

  Quiz

I've been in a bad mood for the last little bit and I think it all goes back to when my dad called me a "bad son". I think I'm realizing that I probably am a bad son. But in my opinion, a bad child is a result of bad parenting. Why I've been upset is because I've given my parents a deadline. My birthday is their last chance. My birthday in a few weeks in the last chance they have a chance to get on my good side. My mother will always have my love to some extent, but my father, it's his last chance. I'm not telling that it's their last chance. It just is. I'll be 21, an adult all around the world, able to drink, gamble, and buy porn. I've decided to write a quiz about myself. I wonder if my parents would be able to answer the questions? Feel free to play the home game in the comment boxes.

1) What is my favourite album?
2) What is my favourite movie?
3) What is my favourite colour?
4) Who is my favourite Powerpuff Girl?
5) What is my favourite song?
6) What is my favourite Ice Cream Flavour?
7) What is my favourite smell?
8) What is my favourite kind of chocolate?
9) What is my dream car?
10) What is my favourite band?

See, what's different about this quiz is that there are multiple answers to some of the questions. I just wonder if my parents would be able to get of them? To them, these wouldn't be important things, but that just proves how little they know me because these are all extremely important things to me. Maybe I should give it to them on my birthday or perhaps the day after. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 9:42 PM

  It's A Small World Wide Web After All

So I found the girl I want to marry off the internet. I keep in touch with my cousins and old friends over the internet. I share many of my innermost thoughts on this damn blog. And if it wasn't for the internet, a lot of my favourite music would not be in my life. So it's funny to see how interconnected the world really is.

The other day I was at work, the real world, and I learned that that people I work with went to school with a guy that a fellow blogger is friends with. But what's even odder is that the person that inspired me to start blogging in the first place - webmistress incognita - was at the Dr. Frank show last night. I've actually followed her internet going-ons for the last five years ever since she was on geocities then a few other servers. Her entry about a Bright Eyes concert has become a common reference to a few people I know. So I chicken shitted twice last night. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 4:01 PM

  Dr. Frank

So I went to the best show of my life last night. I can't explain why it was so great. It was quite intimate and exciting. It was a showcase of great singer/songwriters, not just Dr Frank, but the other performers as well. I listened to great songs about SUVs and raindrops tasting like beer and about how fat chicks need loving too and... it was just an overall great show. I stayed for Dr Frank, but I enjoyed the show overall, especially a great song about Star Wars. For a guy who hasn't seen Stars Wars, I seem to enjoy Star Wars referrences - Undergrads, Triumph the Insult Comic Dog...

But as for Dr. Frank, I really chickened out when I saw him. I'm such a chicken shit. I'm such a pussy. He was standing right there and I didn't say anything. I don't know why. It just felt so awkward. What could I say? What should I have said? I did talk to him though. I'll recreate the moment using proper screenplay format:

Boy sits on a chair in the club's dance floor with his legs crossed, despartely needing to pee. He feels everyone's eyes on him being the only Asian person in a city now reknowned for being Sars central.

He walks down the stairs and into the "Rude Boys" bathroom. Pees for about a minute. Washes his hands but does not dry them. He sticks his hands in his pockets.

He walks out of the bathroom with his hands in the pockets of his unzipped blue hoodie, reavealing a shirt reading MTX Songs About Girls.

He looks at a guy walking into the bathroom. It's Dr. Frank.

Boy: Hi.

Dr. Frank: Hey.

What do you say to someone whose shirt you're wearing? It's like walking up to Michael Jordan while wearing Old School Jordans. I didn't really have anything to ask the man, but I think if I had a chance to, I would have just said thank-you. I wouldn't want to come off like a babbling idiot saying something like, "I am your biggest fan" or, even worse, "You are my biggest fan." But I think that Thank-you would have been great. But at least I say hello. Not many people get to meet their heroes and at least I can say that I did and he seemed like a really great and approachable guy... sigh... if someone had only come with me I might have had the balls. But it's cool... it was great show. Population: Us was beautiful, even with the missing lyrics.

Current Music: You're Impossible, Baby by the guy I saw in the bathroom. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 3:21 PM

  Blog Interrupted

For the last little while I've been wanting to blog about my birthday. In the next few weeks, the 21st of next month to be exact, it will be my birthday... my 21st. No, I'm not at an age where I feel old or will I ever feel old. Well, I can't say that becaus I will eventually feel old, but I don't think that I'll really care... anyways. For the last little while I've been thinking about my birthday and birthdays of the past. You know what my parents have got me for the last few years for my birthdays? Nothing. Your birthday is the day that people in your life, especially those that apparently care about you are supposed to show how they feel for you. I never get words of wisdom or greatfulness or how their lives wouldn't be the same without me or if I hadn't come into their lives. And when I get presents I don't like, it also pisses me off. It's not that I'm ungrateful because it is the thought that counts, but the key word in that sentence is "Thought". When I get Tommy Hilfiger sweaters or Nike t-shirts, how much thought goes into that? But with my parents, they just don't ever make any extra effort on my birthday's to make me feel better. Once, I remember asking my mother, "Why don't you get me presents?" and she said, "Because I throw you the party and you get presents there." I understand that, I really do, but you're my mother, half of my parental unit, can't you just take the time to get me something special... or at least say something nice to me?

It's like no one around me tries to get me anything. One of my uncles always gets me socks or underwear. Why? Because my dad tells him to. It's weird. When I was younger, my birthday and christmas were always important to my parents. They'd make big deals of those days, but now they don't really do anything to show me that they care. To me, my birthday feels like a day for my parents to show off my house and throw a party for their relatives and friends.

There's someone out there who cares and love me beyond comparrison and she asked me, "What do you want for your birthday?" And I told her, "You don't have to get me anything." And in response she told me, "I'll get you a card and something else too." See, that's showing someone you care. She knows that I love her and to me "Her love is the greatest gift of all" but inspite of that she still wants to get me something. That is unconditional love. That is truth. But my parents don't take that extra step. I've flatout asked them for things before, suspenders, a new hat, and even radio. I've hounded them for a radio for years, but they never got me one. I do not own a radio... me, the biggest music fan in the world does not even own a radio. That is just sad. For the last few years I've bought my own presents to show myself that I care... but this year, I'm not getting myself anything. I just for once want them to show me that they care.

To me, this year is my parent's last chance. All I want is something from them. With all that's gone down this year, all I want is a little appreciation from them. What's odd is that my favourite aunt and uncle always get me something good. Not something big or expensive, just something they know what I would like. With my parents, they just don't have any clue to what I want. And that's just sad.

All of you out there know what I like and apparently you really do listen and read. Why is this entry called blog interrupted? Well, firstly it's a referrence to Girl Interrupted, and secondly, something happened today that made me change something I've been planning to write for a long time now. I've been thinking of things that I like or want and I wanted to see what people would get me: Ghost World, Reality Bites, Hard Core Logo, Family Guy, Simpsons, Undergrads, Billy Maddison, Reality Bites, Chasing Amy, Clerks, Mallrats, Dogma, Forrest Gump, Breakfast Club, Before Sunrise, A Hoodie, A Weezer t-shirt, a fuzzy sweater, a Green Day t-shirt, the Cure's Greatest Hits, a Simpsons action figure, words of appreciation... that's all I can think of right now. What's weird is that to most people in my life they would think that these things are of no use to me, but to me they are things I would really appreciate. If you think that I will benefit from socks and underwear, thanks, I guess. If it's the thought that counts then thanks for putting in all of that pondering. I'd rather have someone ask me than just give me something assuming that I would enjoy. I always take things with a smile, a fragile smile though.

Anyways, why this blog was interrupted was because a friend of mine bought me Reality Bites on DVD and it's truly touching to know that someone actually listens and understands. Thank-you.
 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 7:20 PM

  Story of My Life

Today is going to be an important day for me. There aren't many people I would consider genius. In fact, I would not even consider Rivers Cuomo a genius and everyone out there knows how much I love the man and how badly I want to have his babies. I also would not consider Kurt Cobain, John Lennon, Paul McCartney, or any of the Ramones geniuses. Today I am seeing someone in concert that I would not only consider a genius, but also a role model and, dare I say, hero - Dr. Frank, singer, songwriter, guitar player, and frontman of one of my favourite bands The Mr T Experience. I often go on about my love for Pinkerton by Weezer, and I'm also known for my love of Nirvana Unplugged and Green Day's Nimrod, but there's something about MTX that's nothing like any of those other bands. All of their albums are just so great. They redefned pop-punk with Love Is Dead. Moreover, added style and diverisity to the genre with Revenge is Sweet and So Are You. And then, they made something so different and genius with Alcatraz. Also, Dr. Frank's solo album, in my opinion, is better than all of those records. With this band, there's consistency. They innovate and create great music.

And so, I'm seeing a hero tonight, and I'm seeing him alone. Alas, it's the story of my life... a highlight with no one to share it with. One day... There's someone out there willing to endure the pseudo-erotic sounds of Har Mar Superstar with me and in turn I will put Tom in a box for her. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 5:38 PM

  A Song I Didn't Write

when i was born they looked at me and said
what a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy
and when you were born they looked at you and said
what a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl

we've got these chains that hang around our necks
people want to strangle us with them before we take ourfirst breath
afraid of change, afraid of staying the same
when temptation calls we just look away

this name is the hairshirt i wear
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair
this song is the cross that i bear
bear it with me, bear with me, bear with me
be with me tonight
i know that it isn't right
but be with me tonight

i go to school, i write exams
if i pass, if i fail, if i drop out, does anyone give a damn?
and if they do, they'll soon forget
'cause it won't take much for me to show that my life ain't over
yet
i wake up scared, i wake up strange
i wake up wondering if anything in my life
is ever going to change
i wake up scared, i wake up strange
and everything around me stays the same

this name is the hairshirt i wear
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair
this song is the cross that i bear
bear it with me, bear with me, bear with me
be with me tonight
i know that it isn't right


i couldn't tell you that i was wrong
chickened out, grabbed a pen and paper, sat down and i wrote this
song
i couldn't tell you that you were right
so instead i looked in the mirror watched tv laid awake all night

we've
people want to strangle us with them before we take our
first breath
afraid of change, afraid of staying the same
when temptation calls....

this name is the hairshirt i wear
and this hairshirt is woven from your brown hair
this song is the cross that i bear
bear it with me, bear with me, bear with me
be with me tonight
i know that it isn't right


when i was born they looked at me and said
what a good boy, what a smart boy, what a strong boy
and when you were born they looked at you and said
what a good girl, what a smart girl, what a pretty girl, hey
 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 9:54 AM

  Chop Suey

I just woke up. I'm not sleeping well. I've been in bed since I got home from work, but I can't just stay asleep. I think I'll do a survey:

A - Age: 20
B - Best Quality: My humour.
C - Choice Of Meat: Dunno... chicken.
D - Dream Date: My girlfriend and me... anywhere together.
E - Ex (most recent): None
F - Favorite Food: Poutine? Dunno...
G - Greatest Accomplishment: Falling in love
H - Happiest Day of Your Life: Dec. 31, 2002
I - Internal conflicts: Parentes
J - Jam or Jelly: neither, eww.
K - Kool-Aid: Red because he's the one in the commercial
L - Love: Makes the world go 'round
M - Most Valued Thing I Own: Guitar... all of them.
N - Name: Miguel Sanchez.
O - Outfit You Love: Hoodie, Cargos, weezer shirt, Buttercup.
P - Pizza Toppings: Mushrooms are great.
Q - Question you want to ask: Why can't I live, why can't I be?
R - Radical thing you've done: Our caper from the end of last year...
S - Sport To Watch: Wrestling... I guess.
T - Television Show: Lately, Dawson's Creek.
U - Unique habit: I've realized I do things in fives and symmetrically... I always thought I did things in sevens, but it's five.
V - Very favorite Verb: Beetlejuice
W - Winter: Watching it is fun... it's a nice day for a White Christmas
Y - Yesterday's best meal: Ham and cheese sandwich.
Z - Zodiac Sign: Gemini or Taurus.
Spell your last name backwards: That's impossible, though I can say the alphabet backwards.

Favorite shirt - My weekend shirt... I look thin in it.

Cologne/Perfume – love potion # 9... I use Axe bodyspray

Piercing – none, yet

What you are wearing now – Boxers and a grey t

Wishing – It were five years from now.

Person you wish you could see right now - Durr is all I have to say.

Something you're looking forward to in the upcoming month - Dr Frank? Bright Eyes? Probably taking my friend to the dentist.

The last thing you ate – Ham sandwich.

Something that you are deathly afraid of – Everything... umm... elevators, midgets, people...

Do you believe in love – As long as she's around.

Do you believe in soul mates – I believe anyone can fall for anyone, but I do believe that there's no turning back when it's right.

Do you believe in love at first sight – Now I do

Do you believe in Heaven – Stairway or Tears in? I'd rather not say... maybe.

Do you believe in God – Existence? I guess. Belief in, not really.

What do you want done with your body when you die – Burn me I guess.

Worst enemy - Ping!

If you could have any animal for a pet, what would it be - Penguin

What is the latest you've ever stayed up – 7:30 in the morning... long night.

What's something that you wish people would understand – Sometimes emotions are the best logic you have.

What's something you wish you could understand better – I have to be selfish to be happy.

Who is someone that you really wish was still around - My grandparetns.

Person that you wish you could make amends with – My father. No one.

Best friend(s)- She's my everything 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 12:38 AM

  Who Knows Where Thoughts Come From, Joe

I had a lot of thoughts today: Reality Bites, Wizard of Oz (which I still have not seen), Sars, why my pharmacist is always mad at me, and why I'm so gay... but I'm too tired. I'm all blogged out at the moment. I'm just wondering if anyone out there actually reads this... and I wonder if anyone actually likes it. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 9:42 PM

  I Alone

These are thoughts I've had for quite along time so bear with me...

They say you never stop loving someone... you just to learn to live without them. I never really had that with her. With her I just lived with the hope that I would find each other again... and we did.

I get lonely sometimes. Over the course of my life I haven't really had someone to love or to call or to cry or spend the night talking with. There's one person, but I'll get to her later. When I was thirteen, fourteen, I was a suicidal person. I've brought up these painful thoughts many a time before so I'll try to condense years worth of pain into a few foolish lines: I wasn't a healthy person. My body and mind were at all time lows. Thoughts of killing myself, worthlessness, and hatred for everyone and everything around me. But I think that worthlessness was what hurt me the most because I saw all of the shit around me and I just felt like there was nothing I could do about it. Then she came into my life. She came into my life and she singelhandedly changed my views on things. She showed me that everyone there wasn't a moron firstly. Secondly, she believed in me like no other had ever before. Thirdly, she listened. She listened to my thoughts and dreams and millions of screams and she understood them. For a solid year we talked basically everyday. In many ways she was the centre of my universe... but that's a different story all together.

You told me you want me. You told me you need me. You told me you love me. And you were gone.

After that year, she was gone under circumstances beyond our control. And then my life started to bottom out. Firstly, I lost the only person I could confide in. Other than that, my closest friend for over ten years (keep in mind I was only 16) had stabbed me in the back. And finally, my hero was dying - my grandfather. And from there, I was at new lows, but I wasn't feeling that bad about all of it. Why? I can't explain why. As time went on I lost my grandfather, then my grandmother, then Sept. 11 happened... so much stuff that I cannot even think of anymore happened where I just felt like everything seemed futile. Everything seemed useless. I could have just killed myself and ended all of that sufferring, but I didn't.

Does anyone know the story of God walking on the beach? A man and God walk down the beach for his entire life (sounds kind of gay if you ask me). And with every step he took, an imprint would be made in the sand. So the man just stops one day, looks behind him, and notices the footprints. "God," he says, "why is it that when I look back there are only one set of footsteps when I was feeling at my worst." "It is because when you were at your lowest, I carried you."

There's something that always gets to me... in a happy way. Over these last years, she always checked the weather where I live. That may not sound like a such an amazing thing, but to me, everyday she'd do that, meaning everyday that we were apart she thought of me. I think of that footprint story and the fact that she checked my weather everyday and have come to this conclusion - she's greater than God (I'm going to hell). When my grandfather died, when my grandmother died, when I went to prom alone, she was checking my weather while God was maintaining the homeless, continuing famine, and growing weed. When I was at my lowest, her thoughts were with me, wondering about me, thinking about me, worrying about me. God never carried when I was feeling low. Her thoughts for me and mine for her were what kept me going.

For the last few weeks I've been going to school and staying there for ridiculous amounts of time. There's something about the campus late at night. It's a completely different world. Firstly, there are hardly any people around. Secondly, everything looks different in the dark. And finally, there's just a different atmosphere, feeling, and, dare I say, aura about the place. So about a half hour or so before I'd take my bus, I would just walk around. And me being insane, I'd sometimes see her walking beside me. Sometimes I'd hear her footsteps or see her hair blowing into her face or... I don't know.... it's like I can her feel her there. She's not, but I feel like she is. There would be no me without her because without her I wouldn't have been able to live this long. Flatout, without a friend like her my life there would be no point to living. We all need someone special for us and that's why we try to fall in love. We need that person to talk and listen to. And she's who that is for me. Maybe I'm seeing things and hearing things in the middle of the night at school because I know she isn't there, but a part of her will always be with me. And no matter how lonely I might get, I know I'm not really alone.

So, my love, what part of you is with me at all times? Buttercup... I look at her pist face by my boney hip and I think of you...

 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 11:15 PM

  Shrug

My brother is a dick. He really is. He walks around with this hollier than thou attitude which I don't get. The other day he was telling me that I need to grow up or change because I'm funny and act juvenile. But why do I have to change? Why should I change who I am? Because I'm getting older? Because I'm not 15 anymore? Because dick and fart jokes aren't funny anymore? What is it? The way I view myself, I'm not going to change my attitude much until the day I die. I will continue being funny and lighthearted and cynical and emotional... I will be me until the day I die. Why should I mature if I'm happy as I am? The answer is, I shouldn't have to. And why should I do
it now at 20 or 21. I'm supposed to be young and stupid. It's not like I'm 42 with a mortage, an ulcer, and working at a job I find unsatisfying. Right now I should be drinking and banging chicks and scoring drugs... I don't know. But I'm happy being me. I'm happy not drinking. I'm happy not doing drugs. I'm glad I don't have a venereal disease by having sex with anything that walks.

My brother... I'm going to say something I don't think I ever said before. I used to admire my brother. I wouldn't worship him or consider him a hero or an idol, but I admired him. I remember being fourteen or fifteen, and all of my cousins were just hanging out, me with a guitar as usual. We started talking about music and my brother said, "I don't know if I'm a great musician but I have two songs that I really think could make it." Also around the same time, my brother had an idea for a movie. He wanted to write a movie and maybe even direct it. He had so many ideas for it and he'd even tell me about them. But whatever happened to it? I really don't know. I used to admire him for having dreams. He used to be a dreamer just like me. He used to be funny and clever and would make and laugh at things that were funny. But now he's not like that. He thinks he's above all of that. He now plays pool all weekend and hangs out with his girlfriend (Yoko Ono) and her friends. He hasn't been to school in about two years and he's going to go back next semester to just get a job and move out of the house.

He's not the guy I used to know and admire. His voice is different. And as a major audiophile, I can tell when a person is being sincere or being a fake. When he talks to his broad, it's just phoney. He may think that he's mature and above me and my cousins, but if he were to take a step back and look at himself, he might see something different. He might think he's maturing, but what I see is someone that's changing for the sake of change. He's changing himself because he wants to be an adult. In my opinion, people don't change. People get older and wiser, but people don't change. When I think about who he was and who he now is, they aren't the same people. And when I think about it like that, it's as if the person I used to know was nothing but a liar.

I am not my brother. I'm not going to change because maturing is what he thinks should happen. I will make bad jokes at inappropriate times. I will continue watching cartoons because I will enjoy them. I will shine and not set my standards low. I used to aim low, but not anymore. I will aim high and try. I will get my chance to shine.

So what happened to the boy with dreams? What happened to the boy and his goals? They say that most things end with a bang or whimper, but with my brother
they ended with a shrug.  
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 8:20 PM

  Community Patriotism

Every year at around this time, Hockey becomes a way of life for many people in my area. On buses, the lightboards above the windshield say, "GO LEAFS GO". People walk around in white and blue jerseys with smiles on their faces. And what's saddest is that all of a sudden, people become hockey fans, and moreover, Toronto Maple Leafs fans. It makes no sense to me. The season begins and none of these people could care less, but as the year progresses and the local team makes the playoffs everybody becomes geniuses at a game they know little to nothing about. If you can jump off and on of the bandwagon and be supportive when things are good, why don't you care when the team struggles to make the playoffs or why don't you wear the jersey the day after they lose? It because you don't really care.

My father is one of these people. Back in September and October, he didn't know anything about hockey. He didn't know Pat Quinn from Pat Boone, but this week has become important to him. All of a sudden, he's become a hockey fan. He watched the games, he pretended to know what was happening, and he pretended to know which player was which. He just decided to become a fan because the team was doing well and everyone else in this damn town was reveling in the stupidity. Ignorance is bliss.

I wonder if this will be an analogy of my life? He hasn't really cared or known much about my life in its earliest stages. He never went to my basketball games as youngster. He didn't encourage my guitar playing much. He never went to any of my concerts at school. He laughed at the idea of me becoming a writer. But when the getting is good in the years to come, say if I published a book or recorded an album, he'll brag about his son being a big deal and maybe he'll even say he's proud of me. And why will he say this? Because things are good. He censored me and put me down, but if I become something from all of this, he'll be there saying that I'm his kid.

The Maple Leafs lost last night 6-1 and he's no longer paying attention... so when I royally fuck up, maybe start smoking, wear a beret and move to Paris or become a heroine addict, I'll probably be cast aside until the next time I do something good. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 12:07 AM

  Words & Music

I'm cleaning my room. Under my bed I found something very, very dear to me. Three hundred and ninety five pages of passion and fiction, dreams and thoughts, ideals and truths... my book. I'm twenty years old and I've written a book. I've forgotten all about it. There's only one person in the world that's read the book other than me... but it's not fair that she liked. She had to like it. She gets it. She gets me. I've been thinking about writing another book, but I think I should put my time into this. I haven't touched it in months and haven't rewritten it in years. I think it's time that I made my masterpiece something for all eyes and not only the ones I trust... the one I trust.

 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 10:32 PM

  Broken Promise

I was going to make some meaningful and well thought out blogs tonight, but I really want to clean my room. Not that it's even my room. I feel like it's where I sleep within my parents house. I gotta get out of here. So, I'm watching Josie and The Pussycats and reagrranging my room... 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 9:26 PM

  Trilogy

I have three blogs within the realm that is my head today:

1) Community Partiotism
2) Shrug
3) I Alone

 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 3:10 PM

  Loser

You know that scene in Loser where Jason Biggs buys two tickets to Everclear and gives one of the tickets away to "Gothic" Mena Suvari? Well... I plan on reliving that scene. I've thought about it before when I've went or wanted to go to past concerts, but I've decided, why not? So on May 5th I shall be watching Bright Eyes either 1) Alone, 2) With some unexpecting friend, or 3) A complete stranger.

In other news, comments are back up...  
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 12:16 PM

  August Heat

I've realized that there are a lot of people born in the month of May, myself included. And I've come up with some situations as to why:

Situation # 1:

A man walks into his home with a box candy and a bouquet of flowers.

Man (happy): Honey, I'm home.

Woman: Why, dear?

Man: I'm now on vacation.

The man picks up his wife and twirls her in the air.

Man: And do you know what I feel like doing?

Situation # 2

A man and woman are lying a couch feeling hot.

Man: I'm bored.

Woman: I'm hot.

Man: You sure are.

Woman: That was clever.

Man: We're already hot and sweaty.

Woman: Why not?

Situation # 3

A man is standing by the window with a tool belt.

Man: Honey, I've just installed the air conditioner.

Woman: Great. Now we don't have to be sticky and hot all summer.

Man: Not if we don't want to be.. wink wink.

Situation # 4

A boy and girl are in a car.
Boy: I can't believe we start college next month.

Girl: I don't want to think about it.

Girl wraps her arms around the boy.

Boy: You know, I'm really going to miss you. And we've got to make the most of our time before part for the year.

Girl: Your football scholarship has you going so far away.

Boy: Yea, I know, but I promise you, once I make it to the NFL I'm going to get you out of this place.

Girl: I know.

Boy: I've never told you this before... but...

Girl: Yes...

Boy: I love you.

And that's it for now... nothing thought provoking or clever today... just some bad joke. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 11:51 PM

  Technology Bites

I think you can interpret the title and understand how I feel today. This to discuss: 1) Where are my comments, and 2) Why can't she recieve my e-mails?

1) So my comments aren't working. Why? I do not know? My comments have all disappeared and when I go to the server, I can't login. To quote John Madden on the Superbowl episode of the Simpsons, that doesn't make a lick of sense.

2) It is a certain someone special's birthday, someone I love, cherish, adore... and oh, let's face it, worship... it's her birthday today. All of yesterday and this morning I wrote her e-mails wishing her a happy birthday and they did not get to her. I'm usually not one for public displays of affection but I must do this now to have a bit of redemption.

I love her. No... I love her is an understatement. The words I love you are five years old in the vocabulary of our relationship. I'm in love with her isn't even enough to explain how I feel about her. Those words have only been around for about half a year now, but they also do not express everything that I feel for her. You see, she's so much more than just love to me... not many people seem to get her and my relationship, and now I will try to explain. I'm in love with her, yes, that is one thing, but she's so much more than just a girlfriend because without her, I do not know where I would be in life... possibly, I might not even have a life. When we first started talking, I was a low point in my life. The year before we found each other, I thought about killing myself on a day to day basis. I looked in the mirror and thought of slitting my throat. I held my best-friend's father's gun and thought about shooting myself. I even took a whole lot of pills one day, but threw them up... and then I found her. She helped me through the worst time in my life. She helped me feel good about myself and made me realize that I'm not the only person with problems. And without her, I would probably be dead. She saved my life. She's my angel. But through all of the bitching and complaining, there were times of laughter and smiles, lots of those times warped jokes, but we were best-friends. We were very best-friends. And secretly, I was in love with her. She's my angel, my best-friend, my girlfriend, my fiancee, I see myself as good as married in my mind, and she's also my future baby's mama. She's my everything. She's who I want, who I need, and who I am. She's the one that understands me. She's the one I turn to when I'm down... but ever since she came back into my life, I haven't been able to feel so down. I look forward to my future because of her. I actually have goals and dreams and not just complaints and useless suffering. And it's all because of her.

I'm sorry you didn't get my e-mails my love... 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 7:12 PM

  Pinkerton

For those of you who do not know, my favourite album of all time, me a musician and music fan with tastes that range between Black Sabbath and Al Green, is Weezer's Pinkerton. It's pure brilliance and has inspired me more than any piece of art in the history of time. More than Nirvana Unplugged, Reality Bites, Before Sunrise, Ghost World, Forrest Gump, Happy Days, Seinfeld, and even the Simpsons. The album is just brillance.

A few months ago, around Christmas time, so December, my family bought a state of the art entertainment system. Until today, I did not really enjoy it because there was nothing that made me notice the greatness of having it. I usually used to watch Wrestling on Mondays and Thursdays, and I also watch Before Sunrise last week, but none of those things really made me take notice. But today, I popped in Pinkerton and just sat in the dark, listening to it come at me in surround sound. I have been listening to this album for seven years now. When it first came out, I liked it... I didn't love it, I won't try to act cool and say, "It was genius from the first time I heard it," because I didn't get it back then. Back then, I was very young, 14 or so, and really into punk rock - Green Day, Rancid, Ramones, Sex Pistols - but I did like the album. I was a really big, big fan of El Scorcho, Good Life, Why Bother, Pink Triangle, and Butterfly... I also liked Across the Sea, but it made me very sad... that's another story. And about two, three years ago... 11th grade, I went back to the album and fell in love with it. The entire album is masterpiece listening to it on my old, old Panosonic Boom Box... but today in the state of the art five speaker stuff, I can every little thing and I love it even more. The squels, the drums, Matt Sharp's clever falsetto... it's just so amazing.

After hearing something so beautiful and, dare I say it... I think I will... perfect, how can I compete? How can anyone compete? Why would anyone even try to make something better? After listening to day, I started thinking if I should even touch a guitar again, let alone write a song? But then I realized, that I love my songs. No, not all of them, but there are a lot that I love, and there must be an audience for music like mine. There must be an audience of people in love, struggling, losing a loved one, having someone extremely special to them at a great distance, having a crush... I just don't know if I could take the rejection. See, no matter how great or not great my music or anything I do might be, there will just be criticism thrown my way. I've even had a few bad e-mails from past journals, and they just really screw with my head. I dwell on those things and it gets to me.

This brings me back to Pinkerton. I find it to be genius, while Rollingstone magazine named it the worst album of 1996. That just plays with my head.

Alas, I'm out of those for now other than this. I will try to write my Pinkerton. No... I will not be it's author. There's someone out there who will cause these words and music... I will just write them down for her. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 12:06 AM

  This Establishment Owes me a Snickers Twix

I am beyond furious right now. I don't deserve this treatment. I'm at work and it's Easter weekend. I'm used to working on long weekends, so it's no surprise that I have to work on both saturday and sunday. Also, I'm finished school and time isn't much of a factor. But here's what pisses me off... I am on cash both days. Now, that may not sound like a big deal, but it is. Firstly, I just hate being on cash. When your site is called Anti-social commentaries, you have a tendency to hate people, especially those that live on the other side of the register. I hate having to check people's lottery tickets. I hate having to make idle chit chat with people about the weather or if someone won the big lottery. I hate when you ask people, "Would you like a bag?" they do not respond. I just hate people. Furthermore, I'm working a ten hour shift. So for the first six of those hours I will have to work on the floor doing all the jobs that the full timers didn't get done during the week, have it done by five o' clock, and deal with all of those sons of bitches. Secondly, being on cash is seen as a low-level job in my store. It's where the people with the least experience work and belong. But me, I've been there for four years almost, and I'm on cash during the god damn Easter weekend.

Why is it I get no respect? From anyone? This is more than just by fucking job. I hate my job. They treat me like shit so I'm not going to do shit there anymore. But it seems like a pattern in my life. My parents don't respect me. My brother doesn't respect me. My teachers in high school always seemed to have a look of boredom when I spoke with them. My "classmates" seem to think of me as weird or funny, not someone they actually cared for. So why am I not respected? I think I'm a good person, too nice in many respects. I go out of my way to help people more often than not. A friend at school, I buy her food all the time... why? Because I'm her friend and it's just a nice thing to do. But has she ever returned the favour? Not once. At work, I once rearranged the entire shaving section and I left a peg on the shelf. Instead of commenting on my good job, my manager was angry because I forgot to put away the peg. And since I'm quiet, all throughout high school, people would spill their guts to me, I would listen, give advice in anyway I could, and never tell anyone. But I remember once being really sad one day and told a bunch of people, "friends", I really haven't been a happy person in a long time, no one ever cared. No one gave me advice or a shoulder to cry on.

And I'm sick of this now. I'm just so sick to my stomach of people (those of you who read this are ommited of course). Why do I go out of my way to be nice when I get nothing in return? No, I don't anything expecting a favour back, but I'm just saying, it's not fair that I do so much to get shit in return. And I don't mean individualy, but as a whole. I just wish someone would do something nice for me. I feel like I'm just get trampled on... I'm a rug. And it's just not fair. I'm a good friend who really cares and is willing to do things for people, and most (not all) of these people just don't treat me anywhere as nicely as I treat them. And I'm a great student. Teachers might not have agreed with a lot of my statements and thoughts throughout the years, but I always did what they told me in the end because that's how I would get my marks. I'm a good employee. I always have my ugly uniform on, I never come in late, and I've never been short in my register. And I am a fucking perfect son. I don't do drugs, I don't drink, I don't stay out late... and I'm a bad son why? Because I don't go to church? Because I had sex before I got married? Because I'd rather play guitar than play sports? What is it? I'm not a drug-addict. I'm not a rapist. Is it because I want to be a writer instead of a doctor or an accountant? I'm sorry I'm not perfect like you.

Example:

Boy is tying his shoes on the staircase while dad is putting on his jacket. The father is about to drop the son at the bus terminal.

Dad: I can't believe you lost your wallet.

Son: I misplaced it. I know it's in the house. I had it last night.

Dad: When I was in school I would always prepare my things the night before so I wouldn't have to be in a hurry the next day.

Son: So you never forgot anything for school before?

Dad: No.

Son: I guess you were just a perfect son then and I'm not.

Dad: What?

Son (pist off): Nothing

I feel like I'm expected to be better than I actually am. No one just accepts who I am... well, not no one. I'm sick of being judged. I'm sick of put down. I'm sick of being unappreciated. There are a few people who have taken the time to do or say nice things to me (someone once travelled a billion kilometres to see me), and from the bottom of my heart, truly, moments like that make my life worth living and make me appreciate you even more. The rest of you can just fuck off and die.

I'll end with something somewhat happy... or at least entertaining. I wanted to steal a Snickers today, but apparently I've stolen all of them. So I thought of what I should take to damn the man. "M&M's, Glosettes, Kit-kat," I thought to myself, "Ahh... Twix and it's cookie crunch should do it." Twix does not just damn the man, but damns the entire motor industry and grease monkeys like my father. But I have rationalized it to the establishment owing me a Twix. See, I've worked in that store for four years and have only had two raises, and one was mandatory by law because I had turned 18. In my store, you have to actually ask for a raise, and me, the shyest person in the world, I've actually asked for raises before, and I still didn't get one. So there's just no motivation to work. The harder I work, what, we get a few more customers and my boss gets more money, but what do I get? Nothing at all. I don't get more money. I don't get praise. I don't even get to steal the candy bar I want. So the way I see it, all these years of mistreatment and lack of raises constitutes a free Snickers, Twix, or anything with swirling chocolate in the commerical... they all have swirling chocolate in the commercial... not skittles... skittles doesn't.

At least I've got my health... fuck my stomach hurts.
 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 10:41 PM

  To Err is Human

After watching four hours of Dawson's Creek today, I found a few lines very intriguing.

1) Isn't it better to have a short time with someone you love then a lifetime with someone who's basically a roommate.
2) To Error is human, to forgive is devine
3) Growing up doesn't have to equal growing apart.
4) Hate is a very strong word, but so is love.

I have more to say, but I don't feel like it right now.  
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 1:44 PM

  I'm Free As A...

I've chosen not to finish the simile above for I am now done school for four months and I no longer have to write for "The Man" anymore. It feels good right now. I'm free... it's nice to say that. I'm not really free for I am stuck in this house now because of Jecho, Mrs. Jecho and Jecho Jr. But whatever... No more school. No more term papers, exams, essays, listening to bad music for the dumbest class in the history of time. Yes, I am done. Now, I must plan my life. I must look to the future.

The other day, my friend was sad. She had just broken with her boyfriend. Actually, no, he broke-up with her. He dumped her. Why? Because things weren't clicking? No. Because they weren't in love? No. Basically, he loves, wants to marry her one day, but wants to fuck other girls first. That's not my business, but it's what it seems to me. Anyways...

A boy and girl are in the pharmacy talking, avoiding and ignoring all customers that seem to stare and wonder "Why are they just standing there?"

Girl: We broke-up.

Boy: That sucks.

Girl: Don't you ever just wish you could go into the future and see if all this pain is worth living for.

Boy: I think it would be better to go back in time.

Girl: Why?

Boy: Then you could have stopped from getting hurt.

Girl: But it might not be your fault.

Boy: But you could have kept from having this happen in the first place.

You know the old saying, or is it a cliche, I don't know - "Do the ends justify the means?" Well, if the means were good times, but the ends are horrifict, then I suppose the ends do not justify the means. But you did have happy times and memories that you will hold dear with the rest of you life. So is it worth it to go through happiness only have it end with bullshit? I don't know... I think the sadness from the end comes from fear. Because it's not really an end. It's an end to something, but it's not the end... unless you get killed.

But then what is the end? Well... death is the end. Death is the ultimate of ends. So then would the means ever be justified? Death is basically nothingness... so is that justifiable? I personally think it could be. Death isn't all that bad. I'm oddly comfortable with death. I could die tomorrow and not really care... okay, that's a bit of a lie, but I wouldn't be that sad about it. If it happens then it happens, what can you do? The ends can justify the means. How? If you die with content. I've have weird thoughts about a lot of things, but in this department I think I'm pretty sane... not really sane, but not worryful person as I usually am.

I think people are just filled with goals. They feel like they have to do so many things... accomplish goals and what have you, and there's nothing wrong with that, but I personally have no problem with not reaching all of my goals. I think the effort is just as important as the accomplishment. Time for an Empire Records quote I do not regret the things I've done, but those I didn't do. I think you just have to try. Fuck the "Do or do not, there is no try" attitude. If you try your hardest and it doesn't work out then too bad. Sure, it will be sad, but what can you do. You can just force things.

I'm really scatter brained right now... I don't even know what the point of this post was, but I'll sum it up now - I'm now going to try. Do I like myself? Honestly, I like myself. I'm funny, I'm not that ugly, I have a very special person that loves me, I'm a pretty talented person, I'm nice (a bit too nice actually), and I think, most importantly, I'm a good person overall... not great, but I think I'm okay. But I feel like there's something missing from me. No, not her... though she's not with me, I feel her here - her pressence, her thoughts - but I feel like there's a part of me missing and I think I'm going to find it soon. I don't know what it is, but I think something is going to happen soon and I'm the one that will make it happen.

Words and dreams and a million screams Oh how I need...

The last blog was about my search for love, but I have that now. I have to search for something else. I just don't know what it is yet. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 8:21 PM

  School's Out For Summer

It's my last day at school with "official activities" and the atmosphere is different. For the first time that I can remember, this library is not pack to the hilt. I am the only one in this row of seven computers. It's unusual. People are outside wearing shorts. The halls are virtually empty. Curtis Lecture Halls are not filled with bored students. It's a very different atmosphere during exams. But there's always a constant - the line-up at Tim Horton's.

But alas... impedning doom awaits me at 3:30. I do not know how I will do on this exam. I'm going into the exam with a seventy so to keep that seventy I will have to get a seventy on the exam itself. But that is impossible. I do not think that I can do that. But I could get lucky. You know... I should really be studying opposed to thinking non-sense. It reminds me of the last quiz in the class. A friend and I felt that feeling of impending doom that day too. But, if we got doctors notes then the test would be counted as a zero out of zero.

Girl: I think that we should just try to get doctors notes.

Boy: Okay, how about if I cut off your hands half way so that you'll have enough energy to cut off my hands half way and then we can just wack them off.

Girl (laughing): That's a good plan.

I haven't been to school in about two weeks or so... and the place seems so foreign to me now. I can't explain it, but I don't feel comfortable as I did a few weeks ago. Not much feels comfortable now. I hate being at home. I hate being at school. I hate being at work. I need to visit my cousins. I miss those goofy-looking bastards. I can't wait to get out of here because, frankly, I gotta get out of here.

One day I will be where I want. Good things come to those who wait... and I understand that. I have to wait. But I'm now faced with a decision to make. Who do I quote? Wave - the teeny bopper Canadian group with a singer that moves his arms like the biggest G in the world? Or the Ramones, the band that made the greatest intros of all time? Let's do both:

Going to California. Gonna live the life. Sipping on tequila night after night.

Going out west where I belong. Where the days are short and the nights are long... because they're out there having fun in the warm California Sun

 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 10:58 AM

  A Laugh, A Smile, A Burp, A Tear

Two weeks ago I first thought, "I have not learned a damn thing," when I had my last science class of the year. I then started laughing out loud, the class of a hundred or so starring at me, and I shared my thought with the class. I then shared this experience with you, my invasive thought rapists, and smiled at my experience. It's now two weeks later and I'm having a panic attack. I'm nervous. I can't breathe properly. It's like I get these air pockets in my throat and I have a choice of either keeping them there and choking or burping them out... I choose burping because, frankly, I do not want to die. I seriously have not learned a damn thing. I'm going to fail. I don't know what I'm doing. I've never known what I'm doing. I'm just... argh. There is no emoticon to express the way I feel write now. Maybe a sad one with a tear drop because that's what I will do once I fail. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 9:15 AM

  I Showered

That's an Undergrads quote by the way...

So I just showered and realized some things. I am a rebel without a cause... or maybe a rebel without a clue. If I am James Dean or Tom Petty, I'm not sure. Anyways... I'm not a person with strong beliefs or phanatic views. I'm someone who wants something more. I'm looking for something to believe in. My generation (me being the leader of a generation [I don't know]) is filled with mini-rebelions. We go against things that we can't really fight or understand. Our generation has been for causes opposed to actual things that are preventable, except for this war. It's always been "Racism... Stop it!" or "Say no to drugs" or "No more child abuse". At the same time, I always think how much of these so called causes can be stopped? How can we just stop racism? We can lessen it slightly, but we can't stop it. And the people who go to the anti-racism rallies are the converted people that are already against racism. And what would me putting a loonie (that's a Canadian dollar coin) in the child abuse jar do? Sure, it can help those kids that have been abused, but it won't prevent anything. You can't prevent stuff like that because there will always be sickos out there that find little boys attractive. True, I have a tendency to like girls that look like boys... but I do not molest kids. I sort of got off track there.

What I'm trying to say is, I feel like we've all made our personal Vietmans (Viet-fucking-nam!). Two fold for me, at least, two things I can think of:

1) Procrastination. I don't know if it's intentional, but it's my way of putting down the man (Damn the man, save the Empire). I don't do my work at school. In fact, in the last seven or eight months, I have not read one book. I have not bought all of the books. I have paid attention to most of my lectures. And I'm fine. I'm doing fine. I have an average well over seventy and my future looks quite bright. I've fallen in love over the last year. I have dreams of getting married, having a child, maybe a teacher if the whole writing or musician things can't happen (but that's a different story). So by avoiding what "the man" has told me to do, I've found things I'd rather do. I've fallen in love, I write poety, music, novels... So I guess spite has become one of my Vietnams.

2) My hair. It's weird, but it's like 1964 or something. My dad cannot stand my hair. It's long and he just keeps telling me to cut it and I look like a hippie. Since I will probably never post a picture of myself, I'll have to explain my hair. It's not even long. Granted, it's a little long, but it's not hippie-like whatsoever. My bangs fall into my eyes, but it's not like it hangs past my shoulders or anything. I oddly want to cut my hair, but since my dad hates it so much, I don't cut it. Once again, spite. But alas, I've come to a decision, I must cut it a bit. My last hair cut was really bad, a bridge if you will, and it just doesn't seem right. The back is too short and the front is way too long. I have to even it out. Although, I like to spite my father, my hair is still a bridge (origins of it being called a bridge will be explain later... possibly by a certain someone in the comments).

Anyways... I think what I'm saying is our generation is one that rebels for spite or possibly for fun? Who knows? So is it without a cause or without a clue?  
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 9:02 PM

  So...

So I'm sick... as previously stated by a certain someone that broke into my journal just for the hell of it... whatever. It's not really hacking when I tell you the password and the user name...

But anyways... I'm sick. I'm sleepy. I have a fever. I have an exam in 24 hours. I am procratinating and getting re-aquianted with my old friend, cartoons on my laptop. I'm so so sick and tired. I have a this killer headache. It's as if there's a tiny person with a big knife inside of my head poking me in the eye.

You know what I hate about being sick? People that bother you. Someone called me earlier today and I kept dropping hints, "I'm sick... I have a headache... I want to take a nap." But the person would not hang up. This person even screamed into my ear and sang songs off key. I don't mind the company when I'm sick... just don't bother me. Annoyance... it's so annoying. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 3:13 PM

  This is being posted by Gina......Ryan is sick so I am taking over.......Not with His permission though........But let's not tell him that. What I'm doing is actually kind of illegal I think. So Shhhhhh....... Don't tell Ryan I was here. Later, Gina. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 11:41 AM

  This is Gina.....ha ha ha.........i've hacked into your blog. I'm so cool. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 12:30 AM

  In My Room...

I've been cleaning my room, as well as sufferring with a bad stomach, and another memory from grade 10, only this is a bad one. Anyone that knows me decently, except for my father of course, would know that I am a relatively big Green Day fan. The first album I ever bought with my own money was Green Day's Dookie which was soon followed by Kerplunk. Kerplunk is still one of my favourite albums ever. And in tenth grade, my brother lent my Kerplunk CD to his friend and when he returned it to him, he gave it back in a "Brooklyn Bounce" case. Who the Brooklyn Bounce is, who knows? But that was not what I lent the guy, but he gave me this crappy techno CD jewel case instead indie punk rock jewel case. I was quite pist. See, to me, a CD is not just the music, but the art work, the lyrics, the time and effort put into making a complete package. And when I recieved the "Brooklyn Bounce" instead of Kerplunk, the CD wasn't the same anymore. I can't explain why, but it wasn't.  
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 1:45 PM

  Another Day, Another Dawson... or Four

I woke up at 8 o'clock and watched all four episodes of Dawson's Creek on TBS. It was not by design that I watched four hours of Dawson's Creek, though that would be quite expected of me. No, the reason for my early rise is the fact that I am in pain. I slept on the couch last night, felt extremely cold, and woke up with stomach pains. I don't think I've been in this much pain before - physically, at least. Emotionally, I've hurt a lot more than this. Physically, I am just in so much pain. When my stomach gets really bad, I usually try to sleep it off, like I did yesterday, but now I cannot. It hurts too much.

Other than the pain in my body, not much to talk about. I've been listening to Hard Core Logo for the last little while. It makes me smile. It reminds me of one of the happiest times in my life. Happy? Isn't that a weird thing to say about a time in your life when you were depressed and suicidal? But it brings me back and oddly, all of my nostalgia is happy of that time. I remember finding the love of my life. I remember having a best-friend who would later stab me in the back. I remember long walks downtown (not downtown downtown, but my crappy city's downtown) in the rain. I remember the teacher's strike. I remember making music for the first time. I remember falling in love. I remember sleeping. I remember being torn on Mondays between Wrestling and Alley MacBeal. I remember recording Dawson's Creek and watching it on lazy Sundays. I remember having purpose. It always seems that there's a certain someone in my life when I feel like I have purpose. She fills me with hope. She makes me feel good about myself. She puts me up after the world has set me down, even when she calls me an ass or too thin or too fat.

Hard Core Logo truly changed my life. I dont' think a film ever touched me more than it had. I'll just list some movies that really impacted my life:

Hard Core Logo
Forrest Gump
Jerry MaGuire
Reality Bites
Before Sunrise
Ghost World
Shawshank Redemption
Empire Records
Can't Hardly Wait
Office Space

Maybe that wasn't a good idea for I could keep going and going... but there's one movie I can't keep off the list: Billy Madison. I do not believe a movie ever made me laugh as much. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 12:26 PM

  You Go Out There And You Find That Fucking Dog

I'm a bit tired of being a whipping boy. I hate my father. I'll say it. I hate him. He's a horrible father and I personally do not think he should have had kids. And I know that kids always have something to complain about - Too much time together, not enough time together, too much stuff, not enough stuff - but honestly, my father has not given me anything really. He just doesn't care... maybe that's not the right thing to say because I think he cares, but he just doesn't know how to care. He sees the world as right and wrong and black and white, but never sees the other sides things. He just can't accept things that aren't the way he wants it to be, and that's just sad. As long as my brother and I are contemporary people, me being much more ultra modern than him, he just can't accept these things.

Maybe I should write him an essay on why he's a bad father. Why an essay? Because it would piss him off twice as much. He never wanted me to be an English major. He would have preffered me a doctor or accountant, things he could understand, but english? The only reason he's okay with that is because I tell him I want to teach... which I kind of do. But I have bigger and better dreams... but I'll skip that for now.

What bothers me most about the man is the fact that he's never ever taken any time in his life to get to know me. He just never tried to and he also was never around. He could not answer one of the trivial questions that all of you know just by reading this blog on a semi-regular basis. Favourite colour? Favourite band? Favourite TV show? Favourite Album? Favourite Movie? Favourite Book? Favourite writer? Favourite actor? Favourite Video game? And what's sadder is that I have so many of each and he wouldn't be able to get anything... I know his because I took the time pay attention. He just doesn't pay attention.

It's sad to watch him "live" his "life" - notice both are in quotations. Because I really don't know what, if anything, he enjoys. It's like he's just waiting to die and watching his life go by. He wants my brother and I to live his dreams... but my dreams aren't his dreams. I never wanted to be an engineer or a doctor. I've just always wanted to be myself... (Yes, I see the Reality Bites paralel there). But sometimes, I just wish I was more like Forrest Gump than Lelaina or Troy... I wish I could just live. I wish I didn't have to think or try... why can't I live, why can't I be?

I'm starting to trail off now... I'll end with the inspiration for today's title:

You gotta think that you got a pet... you got a responsiblity. You go out there and you find that fucking dog. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 11:18 PM

  My Day:

Rivers - Longtime Sunshine

Sometimes I wanna pack it all up.
Get on a bus and move to Vermont.
Or Maine, or any of those states back east
that I remember.

Sometimes I wanna go back to school.
An east coast college with some history.
I'd be satisfied I know
in the simple things.

Long time, sunshine.
Long time, sunshine upon me.

Sometimes I wanna build a house,
with a wood stove or a fireplace.
In the middle of the living room
an old piano.

Sometimes it doesn't seem so bad
settle down with a good woman.
Leave this lonely life behind
forever and ever.

Long time, sunshine.
Long time, sunshine upon me.
Long time, sunshine.
Long time, sunshine upon me.

Sometimes I wanna get in the car
close my eyes and drive real fast.
Keep on going till I get someplace
where I can truly rest.

Long time, sunshine.
Long time, sunshine upon me.
Long time, sunshine.
Long time, sunshine upon me.

 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 4:00 PM

  Allow Me To Introduce... Myself

The past week of my life has just been dreadful. I've been a prisoner of my own thoughts. I haven't been sleeping well - I've slept in my room, couches, futons, the kitchen... but no good nights of sleep. Tonight is more of the same. Why? I just can't explain... it's as if there a part of me that is in flux. I feel like there's somewhere I have to go or somewhere I have to be. It's hard for me to explain.

I've come up with the following - I'm myself. I've always been myself. And quite frankly, I like myself. I'm an odd boy with weird tastes and poor vision. Example: Last Thursday, from 8-10 I watched Before Sunrise while switching back and forth between that and WWE Smackdown. That isn't normal. But I don't care. I find things that I like and enjoy, be it a clever line about a fictious play called "Bring me the horn's of Willmington's cow" or a Crippler Crossface delivered by Chris Benoit - I enjoy these things. I find shyness and imperfection beautiful, not style and... I can't even find the word because I have none - oh, yes, self-confidence. I prefer hamburgers over steak, and french fries over french food. I like low humor as well as a clever piece of wit.

I like who I am, and I've been questioning my own self-worth as of late. But I really shouldn't. I know this now. Because the people who honestly care about me, and the few, if not, one, that loves me, care and/or love me for the person I am. So fuck my father and my boss for having me question my own self-worth because I'm okay. But, yes, there are things I have to work on. I am not perfect, in fact, I'm not anywhere near my fullest potential. I personally think I have something to give the world. Will the world like or enjoy it? I don't know, but I have something to give it.

I was always told that I had potential as a child. But I think I've always been held down. From a very young age, I remember enjoying art. I thought painting was fun and pretty. I remember my mother used to bring home random trinkets that her store, she worked at Bi-way, would throw out and give them to me. I remember always setting them up in away so that I would like how they looked. Sometimes she'd give me broken jewelery or toys or tape, and I'd always work on them until it looked right to me. But my parents (read father) never really cared for that. No, he was not the kind of father that wanted me playing sports or even socializing, but I remember from a very young age always being told how proud it would make him if I became an accountant. Later on he'd talk about how proud it would be if he saw "Dr." in front of his last name. But at a young age, I remember declaring I wanted to be an artist, not an accountant or doctor. But somehow I've come to think that's what I have to do. That is what I should be.

I was sixteen years old. I had just written my first novel, "The Sell-outs". I was visiting some family about an hour away and on a hot summer night - mosquitos, heat, crickets - my father asks, "What do you want to do when you grow up?" "I want to be a writer?" "What kind?" "A novelist." My father laughed. He didn't laught at my dreams. He didn't laugh at my talents. He laughed at me. The next year I told them that I wanted to be a pharmacist. Actually, they told me I should be a pharmacist and I sort of agreed. Weird?

What am I trying to say? I think what I want to say is... it's time I stand. In a communist society, which is perfect in theory, we all must work where our talents are. I'm good at math, yes, but science is not my strong point. I can't draw. I can't play sports. All I know is that I can write and play guitar. That's what I do and that's what I do well. So that's what I must do.  
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 1:59 AM

  A Letter To Myself...

I haven't been feeling well as of late. I haven't really had a thing to say in days. Jokes... I have no jokes. Thoughts... I have no thoughts. Feelings... I have a bunch, but they're jumbled.

This is the part of the movie where the protagonist hits bottom and pulls hiimself up to all time new highs. I just don't know about that second part. I've been working a lot over the last two days. It seems like everyone is a mess or has something to complain about. Someone broke up with her boyfriend of... god knows how long (and frankly, she's too good for him), everyone thinks they're too fat, someone else is going to fail a class... all the while my store is going under. And to top that off, the Chinese pharmacist is sick... can you say Sars? She does live in Scarborough.

Anyways... I feel a bit better. I don't know about all new highs... but I feel better. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 9:28 PM

  Current Mood:

Sad... listening to Don't Speak. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 10:56 AM

  I'm an ass... 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 4:06 PM

  Shush

It's nice to know that people care... especially when they do. I don't think I had ever felt as pisT ever in my life. Just in general, my self-worth was at an all time low. Why? Because people who were supposed to value me as a person just put me down and wrote me off as useless. But I'm not. I am not that piece of shit that they may have wrote me off as. I am not that nugget you cannot flush. I am not what anyone thinks I am. Few people, and few may be adding extra numbers on, understand me. Few people know who I am. Few know anything about me...

I have dreams... goals... needs... I do not have the time or stamina to write them now, perhaps tomorrow. I have talent. I have more talent than some people know about or can imagine. People just don't see it because I don't let them. I don't want to show them. A lot of people won't get it. My family doesn't get it... and I'm fine with that. But I will not be silenced from the people that understand it. I will not be put down the way I've been put down over the last few days and just stand for it. I will become something. I can't live my life for the approval of others, frankly, the approval of those I do not respect...

This really isn't making much sense right now. I'm too emotional... let's just say:

Highlight of my day: You know I love you so shush...

Mood: Back up in your ass with a resurrection... 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 10:26 PM

  My Everything

This song is my life. This song is my love. This song is my dream. This song is my goal. This song is my future.

Population:Us by Dr. Frank

It's a great big world, but all I want is you
this great big world won't leave us alone
no matter what we do
just look at how our lives are spent
loneliness and discontent
crying in the dark of night
but now I'm seeing the light
just think how it oculd be
no one else but you and me
alone together, all right
you and me in isolation at an undisclosed location
no aggravation, no frustration
population:us.

Everywhere we go, the world gets in our way
I guess the world is here to stay
but that doesn't make it right
and I'm not afraid to fight
for my beliefs and assorted aperitifs
cause baby we could have it all
it neither of us drops the ball
far away behind a wall

destination:consummation
systems go in preparation
for Operation Gratification
population:us.

I hate people. They're not like you and me.
I don't need the competition
and I don't like the number three.

I know once we did love them
but now we must get rid of them
they serve no purpose here you see
except maybe bringing us our tea
but if you agree I'll do without
that's what love is all about

there's only one way I can see
how to get from A to B
it's true you gotta start with A
but baby B's not far away
if that's somewhere you think you've been
just wait'll my love kicks in
we'll be on our way

conversation, exploration, manipulation, stimulation,
penetration, consummation, procreation, domestication
population:us

 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 11:03 PM

  If You Do It No One Will Know

I don't think I have ever been this furious in my life.

For a long time, my job and my family were the only thing that made any sense in my life... but that's gone now. School actually makes sense now. Friends make sense now. Love makes perfect sense now. But not my god damn family. Not my god damn job.

I'm just going to say it. Words from people in my life:

Boss: Your work has deteriorated so much.

Father: You really are a bad son.

Does anyone else have anything to tell me? Professors out there want to call me a bad student? Anyone want to say I'm a bad friend? Jimi Hendrix want to come back to life and say I suck at guitar? Rivers want to say I'm not a good fan? Michael Turner want to say I can't write?

Fuck me... all I am to my boss is a worker and all I am to my father is his son, and when people tell you that you aren't good at what you are... it just makes you feel life nothing. Because me you see I'm nothing...

Highlight of my day: I stole a Snickers. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 10:30 PM

  I Hate You With The Burning Passion of A Thousand STDs

I wrote a rant so personal that I wouldn't even post it... me. I've posted thoughts so personal but this is just too much. Don't worry... I'm not mad at anyone who reads the site...  
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 11:30 PM

  After Eternity...

It took an eternity, but I finally fished my paper, "A History of Forgetting". And just like every other essay I've handed over the course of this year, I have included a quote from a source so not related to the book that... I'm out of material - it's 4:45. Long story short - Jerry MaGuire quote...

Good Night... or is it? I'm not in a good mood at all and I don't want to get into it right now. I'm debating if I should stay up, wait for Dawson's Creek to come on at 8, and then go to school? Hmm...  
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 4:46 AM

  Procrastination Major

If I majored in procrastination I'd end up failing by doing work... 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 3:38 PM

  Random Thought

The journey of 1500-1700 words starts with one thesis. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 2:25 PM

  Avoiding the Outcome

I have an essay to do. I don't want to. The way I figure is, all the essays I've written this year, I've got a passing on mark all of them - A C+ C+ - so this last one is just going to get another decent mark. The teacher knows what I'm capable of so why should I write another passing paper? Perhaps I should just write a paper one why she should pass me? I don't know... I'm just screwing off right now.

I don't have the inspiration to write about Jewish mice and Nazi Cats. I want to play guitar. I want to write a novel. I want to get a real job. I want to watch Dawson's Creek. I want to sleep. I want ride the minebuster at wonderland. I want to watch Bright Eyes in concert. I want to take a train. I want to play Weezer songs at my aunt's restaurant. I want to drink bubble tea. I want to play tennis. I want to pick my classes for next year. I want to eat at a Chinese Buffet. I want to go to the lake not take my shirt off. I want to sit on my roof and play my acoustic. I want to do everything and nothing all at the same time.

My mind is in summer in spite of the snow on the ground.

Current Music: Holiday - Weezer 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 1:13 PM

  I'm Not Just Gonna Freak Out

Keeping on the Jerry Maguire theme... I freaked out a little earlier. I'm soory. Remember once when you said, "We haven't talked in ages and it feels like we're growing apart." I started feeling that... I hate that feeling. I've never really felt that before and it just made me sad... but it's cool.

Anyways... I feel better now. I'm almost done school. I hand in my last English essay on Monday. It's about Jewish mice that are over powered by Nazi cats, betrayed by Polish pigs, and ultimately saved by American Dogs. It's the best book I didn't read all year.

Someone's birthday is coming up. Someone extremely important to me and this is the first time I'm ever getting her something. I don't have any money though. I'll just send her my love.

Someone else's birthday is also coming up - mine. I just saw Reality Bites on DVD at Amazon.com... hint hint. It's funny how it comes in a pack with Before Sunrise one of my other favourite movies. I usually buy myself a new guitar for my birthday, but I'll have to dumb it down to this this year with my lack of funds this year. Family Guy is also on DVD... hint hint... Ghost World... hint hint... Gina in a box... hint hint... Rivers in a box... umm... nevermind.

I'm missing your laugh...

 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 5:23 PM

  Mission Statement

Continuing with that Jerry MaGuire stuff earlier.

Goals for the summer:

1) Talk to Gina.
2) Don't get a haircut.
3) Get a real job.
4) Dye my hair (If someone would be the Rory to my Lane).
5) Work on this site.
6) Plan my big show in July.

Speaking of the big show in July, I've come up with a name. Last Sunday I heard Peter Frampton on the radio and remembered an idea I years ago - Brampton Comes Alive! There's the name... I am fucking awesome. Har Mar Covers?  
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 9:56 PM

  The World Has Turned...

That's how you become great, man. Hang your balls out there!

A few days ago I a botched Jerry MaGuire moment. I went to make a copy of something, but it would have cost me a whopping $25. $25 dollars that I would rather spend on calling cards or Bubble Tea or Family Guy on DVD. I refused... but I have to hang my balls out there again. My balls have hiding in their sack for too long. I need to find myself again. I think I've lost myself since coming back to school. My mind over the last few weeks, after staying late at school everyday, sometimes over 12 a day, has taken its toll on me. I have not been able to think, feel, or even dream like I once did. I miss myself. I know, we often want to take a vacation from ourselves, take a step back out of our own beings, but I miss myself. Is that a weird thing to say? I really do miss myself.

School takes its toll. School is such a system of conformity. They all want us to write the same way, think the same way, and act the same way, at least with branches. My passion for writing has decreased immensely because of school. It's not that I had a bad English prof or teacher... it's just very uninspiring. The books I've read, the things I've learned, they things I've put into my mind are told to be correct, but they aren't correct to me. This year has emphasized form. I hate form. I hate technique. I hate theory. I writet with passion. I write with style. I write with emotion...I write the songs that make the whole world sing / I write the songs of love and special things / I write the songs that make the young girls cry / I write the songs, I write the songs. Why I added this song that I only remember from an episode of Full House, I do not know.

"Everything Beautiful Fades" - I don't know where I heard this statement, but it's something that makes me think. It makes me think that what was once good might turn out bad in the end, or not as good. But is that really true? Can that be true? Can nothing get better with time? You may think wine and chese, when in actuality, wine does good bad with time. It hits its peak at 10 or 15 years if you didn't know. And cheese? Well, cheese makes me sick. So does everything beautiful fade? I don't know... I don't think so... At least I hope not. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 4:48 PM

  Bullshit Major

The idea of being an English major is really making sense to me now. Why? Because I am really good at it. I just wrote my exam and I think I did okay. Not fantastically great, but okay. Why that's so funny to me is because 1) I didn't crack open a book last night, 2) I haven't read any books all year, and 3) I've only bought two of the books this semester. "Art is all dick," to quote my least favourite Beatles, John Lennon. It's nothing more than dick... this from someone that wants to write for a living. But it really is just trivial stuff, art. But something I've learned this year is that the trivial stuff is a lot more important than the so called "important stuff". Triviality is great. I love the fact that I have a few people in my life that I share trivial things with - The Blue Blockers Guy, Undergrads, Reality Bites. I'm glad there are people in my life that will get the references to my ulitmate triviality.

Hh hh him.

 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 4:23 PM

  No More Of That

I've decided to ditch the whole Screenplay stuff... it's not fair for me to share what isn't only mine. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 4:45 PM

  No Dancing in Music Town

I just finished my last music exam of the year. Hurray! A bittersweet hurray. I'm really going to miss this class: The prett girl that looks like a boy, the Indian guy that likes Abba, the guy I call Dashboard, the guy in the Pornstar hat, the friendly girl that sits infront of me, the two teachers - Ed and Ed, the bald guy that has a crush on my friend, my friend's friend that copies off of her on exams, my friend that copies me off of exams... good times.

I'm a little unsure of my mark in the class now. 40% of the class is on the journal and I'm not very happy with my journal. What sucks about it is the teacher is giving us extra time on them now, but I unfortunately printed and binded mine this morning. It cost me $8. So I will not be redoing them. Why I'm not very happy with my journal is because they won't be reading every journal and will probably only read the songs they know and like. That will not work to my benefit for it is the songs I love and, most likely, the songs that they don't know where I really spent my time and opened up... so... whatever... Cause this is my United States of Whatever...

 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 11:45 AM

  Tired

Just one more week... just let me count the days... I can do this...

To those of you who are in school, I ask you this question: Did you actually learn anything this year? Personally, I didn't learn much. In science I learned about Bullshit theories that are not true. In music I learned that Celine Dion doesn't count as Canadian content though we are subject to listen to her all day. And in English I did not learn one goddamn thing. The sad part is, that's my major. What's sadder is that I've done little to no work all year and I'm doing reasonably well...

... just let me dream of a bubble tea. 
posted by a pessimistic dreamer ¶ 5:59 PM