I have nothing clever to say today. I just want to get some things off my freakin' chest. You know, a blog is a great thing? When I type all this crap in here I get no response, no rebuttal, and no back-talk from it. It's like the greatest friend ever.
On to business. I am exhausted. I only work twenty-two hours a week. Some of you might be thinking, "Oh, that's not that much...how are you exhausted you big cry-baby?" First: You can suck my big fat toe. The right one. Second: If you know me at all, then you will understand. I would rather be working than not. I blame my dad for it. I have tried to enjoy time off and lazy days, but they hold no savor for me. It's the days I don't work that just end up kickin' my butt. It takes more energy to just sit and do nothing whilst doing something than it does for me to perform a full day's portion of labor: Preferably twelve to eighteen hours.
The Lawn? I find myself wanting to mow the lawn. Two reasons this is a failed attempt at finding something to occupy my time: The first: We don't have a lawn mower. We have "people" for that. The second: Our lawn is so small I could literally cut it faster with a pair of children's safety scissors than I could with a mower and trimmer. Yes. Safety scissors.
The Dishes? One can only do the dishes so many times during a twenty-four hour period. I will intentionally use as many dishes as possible on my days off just so I can do the dishes again.
House Cleaning? Tried it...I keep my room spotless aside from the day's dust post-cleaning. The rest of the house is pretty much the same way. I am very obsessive-compulsive. I am constantly straightening the pictures on the wall in the living room. I actually have decided that it is a frivolous effort as it seems the wall has a bit of a bow in it. I straighten and alphabetize my blu-rays a lot. I do a lot of laundry...A LOT of laundry. I am running shoes and bags and wallets and phones and and and....all sorts of stuff to rooms and closets and such all day and it still doesn't fill the void. (That's what she said.) (That was for Ashlee.)
Television, Movies, Games? Please! TV: Boring. Movies: Seen 'em dozens of times. Games: How many times do I have to pass a game before it becomes boring? I can only watch TV and movies and play games so much before I find myself in danger of having a small heart attack each time I get off the couch to get more fatty, nasty fast food. My motto: If you can't see your toes, somethin's gotta go. (Yes...I did just make that up. So my bit about not saying anything clever just went right out the window like a fart in the wind. Oops. That's two.)
Friends? I have no friends with which to "hang out". I consider myself a fun-loving guy full of laughs and joy. I must be the only one. The few "friends" I have cause me to have ulcers where before sat a perfectly disgusting, but wonderfully whole, stomach lining. I can't keep up with their issues and whiplashing roller coaster emotions. Granted...I am a nut-case....but still. So, hanging out with my "friends" is pretty much another futile attempt at filling the time. It is quite the opposite of filling the time. It's part of my exhaustion.
School? I wish. That one is my fault. I have this wall of excuses and fear that I like to call "My reason for not going to school" that I hide behind. If I had school then I could justify still working at a place that only allows me to work twenty-two hours a week and causes me emotional and mental pain. My mind is like that of Robert Downey Jr.'s character Sherlock Holmes, "Give me problems. Give me work." My mind was meant to solve and calculate and create. When it isn't trying to do such things, it races and in turn exhausts me more than if I had just spent twelve straight hours doing homework for classes that I will inevitably pass with ease.
I'm extremely depressed. That's as far as I am willing to go with that one. If not then this will turn into exactly what I did not want it to be turning in to: a diary. If you have any questions, please refer back to what you just read in the previous word body and read on.
I wake up everyday and follow a strict yet simple routine. I open my eyes after a wonderful fourty-five minute's rest I like to call "fourty-five minutes of sleep I get every night" and roll out of bed. I stretch and enjoy the sight of my not-often-seen feet, and then I begin my regimen of pain the I call "moving". I lift my fat arse from my bed and check my phone for messages and my computer for email. I then grab my towel and head toward the bathroom for a morning session of "The Jeffersons: Oh Demoted Ones" and my shower. As I step out of the shower I utter my daily phrase, "Dang it, Jared" after stepping into the remnants of his shower: A nice puddle of FREEZING COLD WATER!!! Then I get dressed in my usual attire of jeans and a striped polo shirt and spray on a little liquid lady killer. Then I put on my mask. This isn't just any mask. It is a mask of invisibility, for it completely hides that which is bubbling on the surface and is a raging fire deep within. I put on a smile. I let everyone know I'm okay. If I'm not okay, it effects anyone that is close to me. (That's very few people in case you were wondering.) I am obliged to put on a face of "happy". The sad part is not that I wear the mask, but that I do it mostly just to avoid the annoying questions of "What's wrong?" and "Are you alright?" and that statement of "I know something's wrong. Tell me." And the worst part of all of that is that when I don't say anything or I say that everything is fine or even say that I don't want to talk about it right now then I am the bad guy and people get mad at me. Well that certainly makes sense. ??? So I wear the mask day to day, hoping that it will just fuse with my actual face and I don't have to worry about it falling off and showing my true hideous face of shame. It is a full-time job trying to keep my friends from getting upset with me because I am not running at full capacity of fun-ness. This is the most tiring job of all. It is one that takes concentration, stamina, heart, and a lot of insanity.
All in all, I hope you understand that I understand and know that life is not only challenging but just down right tough. I get it. I live it. So if life itself is so tiring, why do we make it hard not only for other people but for ourselves as well. Something to think about.
I'm going to call it a blog today. I have much more to say, but I really need a shower. Let the mind-wrapping commence. WRAP!!!
