want an inside look at a self-sabotaging and desperate idiot? feel free to look around

If I could categorize and compile all of my thoughts into something coherent, I would.  I'm realizing things that I should have realized a long time ago, and seeing things in a different light, in a different way with each day.  I just can't seem to free myself of the chains I toss over my shoulders and lighten the burden I've forced myself to carry, in the names of experience and spite.  Money is always tight; that's a given, especially for an uneducated 25 year old, attempting to earn his way into adulthood.  I never expected to own a house before 30, but I didn't expect to be anchored to my chair by car loans and debt;  these are things everyone faces, but I can't grasp simple concepts, like maintaining a budget, paying bills on time, alleviating the current stressors before adding new ones. 

What I really need is to get out of here.  I want to escape society, escape the boundaries that rein me in and keep me in check.  Flee from the worries and troubles of circulating debt, of dead-end careers, of making plans with people you don't like, of dealing with all of aspects of people that involve strife or turmoil.  Showing love to the people who have impacted you, and receiving love back, and loving them even more for giving that to you.  That's the only cycle I want to be in.  I want life to be a road; a winding, twisting, dipping, hilly road, with obstacles in my path, and just enough straightaways to see just how fast I can get, but throw something in my path just before I step over my boundaries, before I go past that limit, so I know what I'm capable of, and I'm shown the gift of humility, to keep me in check.  The circular motion in which my mood and life choices seem to go have never led anywhere; by definition, a circular path or pattern, terminates at its point of origin.  I always come back to the same stupid mistakes I've made in the past, and while the scenarios change, I always make the same goddamn mistakes, over and over.  I can't tell if it's a lack of trying, a lack of devotion to change who am I am and who I've become, or if it's truly who I am and I can't learn from my mistakes, but all soul-searching aside, I keep screwing up, and while I'm aware of the things that have to change, I can't bring myself to change them because it's either an enormous undertaking or it doesn't makes sense to me in the moment.  Yet, in times like this, I see the big picture as it's all laid out, and with all of the players in place, and I know what I have to do, where I have to go, and who I want to be.  It's time like tomorrow morning where I will wake up with the crushing realization that I have become exactly what I dreaded on becoming: an overweight, undereducated, broke mid-twenties enlisted guy with no savings and a growing bald-spot.  I will trudge off to work where I will be force-fed the same military bullshit that I'm stuffed with every day I step foot on base, and I will sit at my desk with stacks of paper up to my chin for a job that will never have an actual purpose other than to satisfy a committee's requirement, and when the clock chimes three, I will come home to an empty house of people who, for the most part, have no interest in knowing me beyond when the rent check is due, and I will skip on the cleaning and the laundry and domestic rituals I've learned through the years because of the wonders the internet holds, and I will sit for hours on my computer or with a video game, pouring over meaningless and trivial amounts of information and humor and images just for the simple fact I can escape the reality that I have settled into.  And I will continue this pattern until another disaster rears it ugly head and I'm forced to deal with that.  Hence, circular pattern.

I'm tired of ranting and going on about how much things suck right now.  I fear that my head will never be right, that I'll never have a grasp on things, enough to develop into my own person, instead of the facade I carry around now.  Fuck, this self-aware bullshit is for fucking idiots, man.  Only someone as smart as me could be so stupid for recognizing and reflecting on how smart I am (reread that three times and tell me if it makes sense). 

This night needs to be over.  I can see how alcoholics are born.  And frankly, that doesn't sound half bad.  "Every man needs a muse, and mine could be the bottle."  Sounds like a winner, Dallas.  Sounds like a winner to me.

Caught in my reflection...

Only in retrospect can I fully grasp just how many opportunities an extended weekend can hold.  I find it hard to appreciate the chances I have to actually do things productive with my life.  Wrote two new songs.  Sat on Xbox and 4chan for an amount of time I refuse to disclose.  Pretty sure my spine has a new curvature.  Made no plans, went out two nights...and quickly realized how little I desire blogging about my boring weekend.

Atlanta next weekend, haven't seen Jeremy in over 3 years, same for Jon, except I saw a couple months ago at the GME Selection Board.  Should be interesting, especially since I don't have a driver's license at the moment.  We shall see how that goes.

Chinese food right now.

Is he...updating?? Can it be?

So I'm finding it difficult to come up with excuses or reasons I went from updating a journal on a semi-daily basis a year or so ago, but moving to a "big-boy" blog stunted any rational thought or creativity to the point where I'd be sitting at the computer with my fingers dancing, hovering over the keys, anxious, waiting for the spark to ignite and to become the tools for translating the spark into communicative media; needless to say, the spark never materialized. Latelly, things have been so hectic, it's hard to form a signle thought,let alone qualify any of them in order to make an attempt at defining them,so there's not much to report. But I'm aware things need to change and that I will want to one day reflect on this period of time in order to see the lessons learned and the growth that occurred, so I expect this to be a mch more utilized outlet for the stream of semi-formed ideas, psuedo-insightful one liners and incoherent ramblings of a twenty-something looking  become more than the complacent,n naive little boy that inhabits the body of a figure that others look upto and turn to in times of need. this is supposed to be one of the most exciting and revelationary times of my life; it's time to lay it out in some sort of cohesive thread of conscius thought so I have something to show my kids when Im dead and gone (kids...hah,that's a riot). Expect more ramblings in the near future from the bourbon addicted,guitar-wielding,M.D.-pursuing man-child. I ask that you don't stare at your computer monitor and click refresh every 3 minutes, although I'm sure the intense feelings of apprehension and the thirst for more are overwhelming; it's just not healthy.Did I mention witty? That too.

Worky work

Through the tedious and trivial work, I still manage to coordinate a home-cooked Valentine's Day dinner.  She may be one of the better things I've ever had in my life, I just need her to open up more.  Time will aid in that, but right now we're where we are supposed to be at, and I refuse to rush it.  The car's still out of commission, waiting on one part, the first big one I get to install, then I need to run it to a performance shop to check on all of the parts.  The Kenne Bell is trickling oil while under load, fairly common issue, but replacing the seals is a fairly involved process, one I don't trust myself with.  When the system costs $2 grand and the engine rebuild would be three or four times that, a man has to know when to step back and accept that there's no shame in letting someone else handle it.

These records are like sieves.  Or paper snowflakes.  So many holes in these students' records, it's hard to tell whether these future doctors are being negligent or deceptive.  But that's why I'm changing my rate! Hospital Corpsman Third Class is now Medical Detective Third Class!  Somehow, I don't think the Navy is going to accept my imaginary job classifier.

More tedium to attend to.

Amid the din of the screaming children, coughs, and the raspy tenor of the doctor conversing with the sick and injured that are wont to receive care they could very well have done at home, a harmony of computer generated beeps and the rhythmic thumping of bass persists.  Although I never, as a rule, listen to electronic or house music, simply due to my distaste for such inartistically created songs, Deadmau5 has caught my attention and to some extent, even entranced me!  Hahaha, ahhh, I couldn't resist.  Steady movement of patients influxing; earlier on, not enough to get me on my feet, but in the past two hours I've actually had to take a break from the PCS checkout list to deal with patients.  And I've just discovered that every time I stand up for more than two minutes, I'm forced to redo 2 or 3 pages of information because it doesn't save.  I'm certain I've done this one page 4 times already;  from a third-person perspective, i'm perplexed as to why I continue with my attempts to finish this when I clearly do not have the time, but my fingers are simply working off of muscle memory, and honestly, it's keeping my mind off the stubbed toes and sore throats, which inherently keeps my blood pressure and nicotine cravings in check.  Almost 24 hours without a smoke, and tomorrow is absolutely going to suck.  They say it takes on average 7 times to quit, and I'm on number 4, so I hope I can break free this time around.  I've been considering dropping the habit when I get back, because I'm going to be bored and in need of preoccupation on the twenty-some-odd hour flight back home.  Just another trivialilty in my life that I completely blow out of proportion.

A transport to a local Japanese hospital just popped up.  Back to the grind.

New home for my ramblings

Since high school, I've kept some form of journal, in some desperate hope that someone might read my adventures and actually give a rat's ass, further validating the criticisms I've endured regarding my pretentious self-image.  Although a fair amount of my confessions and rants were solely for me to look back and reflect on, I just like talking, and apparently people liked listening.  However, I've never been the sedentary type (a hereditary trait, methinks?) and it's about time to graduate to a big-boy blog.  A legitimate blog, actually, versus a website where I reverted from being an adult to talking about girls and cars and drinking and drug experimentation and work...who the hell am I kidding, all of the things I'm sure I will be posting about on here.

Only this time around, I get to use big words.