Happy Fucking Labor Day...

Happy Fucking Labor Day…

I spoke with my father on the phone for about an hour yesterday. My parents are worried about me and rightfully so. If I were to step outside myself and look at how I am reacting to the world around me, I would be worried too.

Let’s recap. So what did we talk about on the phone?

• There is no reason for me to feel like this.
  
• I need to enjoy life. I am only 24 and have everything going for me. I apparently, have the world by the balls.
  
• There are people in much worse situations that myself.
  
• He knows girls in at least three of his stores that would love to date me (Now, although I know he is not lying, I found this to be absolutely hilarious. There is no way I can believe this without seeing it.).
  
• I shouldn’t find living life to be “uninteresting” anymore.
  
• I shouldn’t be apathetic about things.
  
• He was much more of a miserable bastard at 24 than I am at 24.
  
• I should join a club or something and try to meet some new people.
  
• I should make it my mantra to say “from this day forward, things will be different and I will be happy”.
  

All of this I understand completely and agree with in its totality. The logical side of me understands and knows this. My logical side is not the problem. I wish I could kill that one side of me that cannot seem to comprehend this information.

I simply don’t understand why I am the way I am. I came from a loving family that always taught me to be proud of myself and who I am… so what happened? I thought that it was because of the stuff that happened with Sara that was just getting me down, but the last time I was home that pretty much got resolved and laid to rest, so it’s not that. This has been going on for most of my adult life. My father seems to think that if I moved back to NYC, that this would subside, but highly doubt it. That is an internal problem independent of my physical location. I don’t know how to resolve this.

But, I digress. It was really good to talk to him and get his advice on the situation. At one point, he sounded like he was getting mad at me on the phone and I can understand why. If I were talking to me, I would be pissed off too. I simply do not see or comprehend my worth even though I have ten thousand people telling me that I’m great or whatever.

I am sitting in Borders right now drinking a delicious Chai Freeze. It would be so bad if it wasn’t 40 degrees in this joint. I am fucking freezing. I needed to get the fuck out of my apartment. I have been sitting around doing pretty much nothing all weekend.

Oh and the weekends… I am starting to not look forward to the weekends… how’s that for fucked up? The weekends are starting to feel like a mental prison. I think I spent a few hours yesterday staring at the ceiling… watching the fan… watching the wall… occasionally petting Mallos when he decided that he wanted to come on by.

The last few weekends I have literally been bored to fucking tears. And the ONLY reason that I am sitting here typing now as opposed to in my apartment is because I was going fucking stir crazy in my apartment. Also, I was hoping that they would have some Christopher Lawrence, but alas. They DO have a Paul Oakenfold double CD, but they want $21 for it. Fuck that, I’ll download it. I am gonna grab this book though: “Way of the Peaceful Warrior”. Seems interesting…

Everyone’s working today... another price to pay for having ethnic friends. My only other friend that I feel is worth calling is going to his girlfriend’s (fiancé when, Jesse???) family’s house. I would call Tina, but I am afraid to ask for her number. She’s a cool chick and all… just never really seems like she wants to be bothered. I have asked her if she wants to hang out on a few occasions, but she always seems to have something else to do… oh well… hello senor rejections, nice to see you again… story o’ my recent life.

Stephanie came over last night. She seems to be one of the few people here in Austin that actually gives a flyin’ fuck about whether or not I am about to slit my wrists (I mean that figuratively, NOT LITERALLY). I mean, I am sure that Jose and Rafael care, but they never really ask me how I am doing other than the standard “Hi, how are ya”. But she seems to know just from me talking. It’s uncanny how she can tell my mood on the phone and even through a god damn email. How the FUCK can you tell someone’s mood through email. I can’t hide shit from this girl. I digress… again… it’s the trance. So she came over around 10 to play Banjo-Kazooi. Yes… I can play N64 games on my Xbox… yes… I am a geek. So, we killed a 12 pack (almost) and talked about some stuff and I made her some food, then she left at 2am to go chill with some other people.

So… just sitting here and looking around, I see a few attractive looking ladies… all sitting right next to their respective attractive men. That’s how it seems to be here. All of the fucking attractive girls seem to fall under one of the following categories:

1. Taken.
   
2. Party girl.
   
3. Uninterested in me.
   
4. Don’t seem to see me while standing amongst the 20398470983247092 much better looking people than me.
   
5. Don’t know that I exist (which is acceptable b/c I put up a nice brick wall whenever I am not in my apartment, well, and sometimes in my apartment too).
   

I don’t think I would attract a lady if she fell on me.

Alrighty… I think I have bitched enough for one god damn day… although, I will probably bitch some more later. I think I am going to home and lift some weights. I was looking at some older pictures of me back from when I was working out a lot with Gary and god fucking damnit… what happened…

Plus… my Chai Freeze is done…