Listening to: Johnny Cash American IV
The great thing about cleaning up 27 years of clutter is I get to see where i've been. The bad thing about cleaning up 27 years of clutter, in addition to the mess and the huge garbage bags of stuff I've thrown out, is that I get to revisit some old memories. I've spent the past year trying to get over some memories, but now, they're all back.
I should be fairly clear here. See, I miss college. Pretty much on a regular basis. Not so much the being broke and the constant feeling of intellectual pressure, but the friends I made. Staying friends with people over large distances is hard work...regardless of what anyone says.
So, I started a new campaign of calling people. Tonight, I called
Brian and Debz and talked to them for a good hour or so. I also called Jenny. she has a blog, but I'm not sure if its public yet. And Mike. Tomorrow, I think I'll call others...
What makes this hard is the fact that I do not want to live in my memories. It would be very easy for me to become (more) depressed about missing so many people in my life right now. So, as I clean out my junk, I have to stay focused on setting things up for today...not missing my friends. Or my Dad.
I tend to keep letters. I've found a bunch my dad sent me. In these letters he always says how much he loves me, misses me and how he wants me to call. Its very, very hard to read these letters now. i've just filed them in my "college" box. A box that, in a few years, I'll turn into scrap books. I hope. I may end up paying someone to do that for me... as all of my creative energies go into other things.
When I find these thigns, they will be quite creative.
While I funnel this creative energy, I'm also doing my best not to be angry at my brother. For this, and for my sanity, i will attempt to explain.
My brother and I are both regarded as golden children. We can, and have, gotten away with certain things that no child should get away with. We're fairly spoiled and we know it. Granted, these days we both have jobs where with fairly low pay and a lot of responsibilty--I work with Delinquents, he works with emotionally disturbed kids. Despite our privellaed upbringing, we turned out okay. Hell, we're a bit better than okay.
Regardless, since my dad has passed away, getting in touch with my brother is like trying to reach the Pope. I have to schedule meetings with him, which, considering his phone doesn't always work, is very difficult. he spends a few minutes at home before football pratice, but he leaves way to quickly. I see him about once a week, on sunday, and then we have a small breakfast/lunch or dinner together, and he leaves. Quickly.
He can't spend too much time in the house because he gets sad. He took a month of work to help take care of my mom, but for some reason--and this is probably not based in anything other than ignorance--I really don't think he did that much.
Granted, I'm mad because I moved back home, and I feel isolated from ALL of my friends now. I'm mad because my life, due to the nature of my job, is not set and planned every day. My brother does not respond well to change; therefore, I must plan things well in advance in order to include him in anything... But, you can't include someone who doesn't answer their phone..
I'm also mad simply because he has had time to deal with everything. I haven't. He took his month off and spent a lot of time with friends. I moved home a few days before dad Died, made all the phone calls, and was with our mom every time she was in the hospital.
I was also the one that gave the No heroic measures order.
And where the hell was he?
My brother is one of those people cursed with anxiety. He needs to make everyone happy, to keep everyone together. Because of this anxiety, we tred lightly around him sometimes. That doesn't make any of this any easier.
I want to be angry at someone...but my brother has made himself to be a good candidate. He's there for everyone else, keeping all of the high school friends together...but getting him to help me out is like pulling teeth.
God, I'm full of drama today.
At 3:10 am, I should be asleep. I have to work in 5 hours. I can't sleep. I have way to much on my mind, and I feel like i'm wasting my life and my time.
Why is it that these feelings come up at 3 am?
Jesus, this has something to do with all the coffee I drank. But, I drank this coffee about 5-6 hours ago... I can't be still working, can it? Bloody hell, I should know more about biology...
So, I can't sleep. What should I do?
Screw this. I'll waste more time by playing a game.
Watching: Tao of Steve
A few years ago, my brother told me that this was a good movie. Shortly thereafter, Steve entered the language of our group. It's not as prevelant as it was a few years ago, but occasionally, we here a Steve reference here or there.
i'm not good at reviewing movies, but I can try to explain why this movie appeals to me. The thing is, i doubt I can. I'm not really into explaining things these days. I'm more into ranting, raving and experiencing things.
Its a love story that isn't terribly...well... Hollywood. Girly. Crappy.
Damn, I like it.
---
So anyway, I went running for the first time since June today. I've missed it. It was fun, a little bit painful, but fun. i've been telling all sorts of peopel that you can't really run in the suburbs. I think I even wrote it here. Its a crock. It can be done. I just didn't want to do it here. I wanted to keep running in the city, like nothing ever happened. Basically, a very lazy form of denial I think.
So instead of just riding that stupid excercise bike, I ran. I didn't go as fast as I wanted, and I couldn't breath.... but....
IT was worth it.
Anyway, I'll rant about something later. Right now, I'm making CDs!
Brian, if you're reading this, I'm going to kick your honkey ass in the blog contest.
Listening to: The Replacements, "Beer for Breakfast"
Well, once again, I wake with allergy and asthma symptoms that make working hard. Not impossible mind you, just hard. So once again, I take some time off to deal with the fact that I can't breathe.
If you haven't had this problem before, let me describe it: Imagine two giant hands squeezing your chest and back. Now breathe. Hard, huh?
Thing is, I'm used to this. I've had it for as long as I can remember... and what I have, I can work through.
I just don't want to. I'm tierd of pushing myself day in and out.
The only way I can explain why and how hard is if I start whining, and you know what? I'm tired of that too. Pretty much, i'm sick and tired. I think, however, I can finally afford to be sick and tired. Mom's counts are high, and my brother is taking care of himself (except with his financies).
If I had a job where kids didn't depend on me, I could be a total slackass. Right now... I can just kinda slack off.
I changed my blog. It seems that my archives were missing...and I have, in the past, written some vaguely amusing things.
lets see... Today, I had an asthma attack, and I called off of work briefly. I went to work, ran a group and then all hell breaks loose. Abusive parents. Kids on dope. Fire Alarms.
Needless to say, it sucked.
I worked a five hour day on half a breath. That was just not very fun.
So I guess that save function isn't up to snuff yet.
Anyway, I was listening to my beloved Chicago bears... I'm pretty sure they lost...when i got a phone call from a good friend. I saved this stupid post I had, and almost completley forgot what I was writing
Almost.
As it turns out, my 10 year high school reunion is sometime next year. Its being planned by the same group of people who were in all the senior class clubs. People that I didn't associate with much in high school. well, for a brief period, I did, but then I started dating the girl I was interested in, and decided to find a different thing to do...
So, these people are attempting to get the WB to film my 10 year reunion. In order to do this, you need to fill out more surveys than anyone else. While I'm a little old for that Dawson's Creek/Felicity crap, I filled it out. I figured it'd be easy enough to do and maybe a little bit fun. It was. I looked though an old year book, and remembered a few things I had forgotten... There maybe a few people who really want this WB thing, so I did my part to help them out.
In doing all these high school things, I got to thinking about people who had their glory days in high school (and yes, I did listen to the Boss'
Glory Days) and the phrase "Back in the day." For anyone who cares, from this day forward,
Back in the Day now refers to the years 1993-1999. This is the tail end of high school, when everything was fun, college and my first, post-college job.
I think a lot about these things, mostly because I think there is something seriously wrong with me.
Listening to: "stay what you are," Saves the Day
Well, I'm typing and thinking, "what would I be doing if I wasn't working tomorrow?" I'd probably be trying to convince people to do somehing different. So I think my night isn't going to be much different after all...except that tonight, if I get bored, I'll ride that damn excercise bike and get myself addicted to it.
yeah. Addicted to excercise, 'cause otherwise, I'll never get my ass off and do something.
So I started cleaning out my apartment today. I've moved a few things here and there before, but today was the first of many "move shit out" days. I've got two bags of clothes for the Vets, one box of comic books and a few days worth of mail that my brother can't seem to remember to bring home.
I had something witty to write, but seeing as its 1am, and I have to work tomorrow...and to be honest, I've got smoke in my eyes and I'm sleepy, I'm going to bed.
Listening to: Flogging Molly, "Worst day since yesterday" off
Swagger
Yeah. SO. September seems to be going well. I did okay in court, and the PO that everyone told me to be careful around had no problem with me at all. Well, at least none that I could see. My mom's health is continuing to improve. My Brother seems to be happy, and I actually like his girlfriend. He doesn't seem to think so, but he worries to much.
Yet, I continue to want to feel miserable. Awesome.
Well, I heard on This American Life that people flock to mean people. I'm not so sure that's true, but, the more miserable I feel, the meaner I get.
Neat.
I'm in a new courtroom today. Brand new judge from "The Street," 26th and California, my dad's hold hang-out. Normally, I would have some sort of information on this guy. My colleagues assure me he is very nice, a big improvement over the previous judge, but I miss my inside information.
I am waiting to be called to testify on a kid that scares me. No remorse, no guilt and a lot of anger. I recommended residential. Normally, I wouldn't be here , but I wrote this damn thing in under one week, and I didn't turn in the report the requiste three days in advance. Also, the refeing PO has had some problems with our protocol, so I didn't get the referal in time. One eval, done within one week of the referral, is a god-damned miracle. However, I doubt anyone will care, and if its not to one party's liking, I am the bad guy. Whatever.
I am so sick of people using politics to help kids. Politicians, lawers and the politically appointed clinical department need to go visit these kids, see where they live and their situation, and try to appreciate their environment. They should also get off probation's back.
Politics. That is the grown-up word for "acting like JR high kids." He said, she said, lying, rumor mongering, trying to get the cutest persons attention and showing of. Sometimes, someone manages to do a really good report or do really well on their homework. Then they revert back to their standard, juvenile behavior.
Court is back in session, and
The Minstrel boy is runnunig through my head. Its time to play court.
Update:
I won.
