Enough Fairy Tales

Twenty Eight years old is a bit too old to still believe in fairy tails, yet for some reason my stupid ass still does.

i still believe in childish concepts like love, and i still have some hope that hope carry me through. but it won't.

now, i know all two of my remaining readers are thinking that this is untrue, that love is real, and that hope prevails. but unfortunately you're forgetting that I'm not talking about anyone else, I'm talking about myself.

love does not exist for me, it's a fantasy. things like me don't find love, we're supposed to just live on the fringe of humanity, dwelling in the darkness. i should be feeding on the flesh that is thrown my way, and when said scraps don't come my way the i should use this wretched, malfunctioning mind to make sure it does.

for some reason, i got it stuck in this foul contraption that being a good person, something which defies my nature in every facet, would result in my finding the right girl. someone who could love me for who i am and what i am. again, childish logic. "a shit leopard can't change it's shit spots," and i can't be anything I'm not.

no don't me wrong, i tried. oh sweat dead baby Jesus I've tried. I've tried with girls that i thought would understand. girls that have been taken for granted, used, abused, mistreated, and cheated on. And what did i find? i found that i am the one who is taken for granted, used, thrown away, treated like shit, and left for dead.

hell, the last girlfriend was so terrified that i was going to leave her "for being overweight" (which she wasn't) that she was reduced to to tears in the shower. yet she had no problem fucking around with another couple (yes couple) behind my back. (turns out that scene from Old School isn't so funny when it happens to you.) the rational behind this was that i was giving her what she needed, but not what she wanted. luckily you can't break a broken heart, right? i mean after the ugliness that had happened before, i still managed to get my worthless heart to open up again to let someone in and all i got was cut for it. i knew my heart was worthless, but she made sure to drive the point home. but hey, i deserved it, i was treating her better than any one had before, it was obviously better than she deserved.

you would think that i would have learned, two chicks in a row cheat on me. the said they loved me to my face, they said it with a smile full of daggers, they said it with alligator tears. And i wanted to believe in my little fairy tale so much that i swallowed down these heaps of shit and asked for more.

and still, still i haven't fucking learned.

just look at me now. for the past three months i have been trying to ask out this bowling alley angle that i've had my heart set on. a beautiful girl that managed to get my worthless heart to flutter when she smiled. idiotically i though "maybe this is the one, maybe she'll get me." such a moron, every time i talked to her i couldn't' say a word. i couldn't string the phrase "will you go out with me" together and instead just made a joke and mumbled when she'd turn around.

so nervous, so pathetic, that eventually my dad wound up setting me up to ask her out...

so i asked, i got a phone number, i got a smile, i got a flutter...

bull shit.

we set up a "lunch date" that she was too busy to show up for, but that's OK, she was too busy to return a phone call, or even a txt message. idiot, moron, buffoon, i was so hopeful that this stupid fairy tail could still happen that i built my hopes up.

the sad thing is that i didn't even build them up that much, all i wanted was to take a girl that i liked out. i wasn't planning on fucking her, i wasn't planning on any thing vile, all i wanted was to just take her out to dinner. (i just wanted to feel special).

two weeks without a phone call, two weeks without a txt. how little can you possibly mean to anyone if you're not even worth a phone call.

but it doesn't end there, see, i tried to set up another date with another girl, still haven't heard back from her either.

your average lab monkey usually learns by the third or forth jolt that the red lever on the food machine is bad. not me, on no, because i believe that I'll find love and i still hold out hope for this asinine concept.

stupid, stupid, little boy. still thinking that love will fix things when it doesn't even exist (doesn't exist for me, yeesh i already went over that).

I've had three weeks off of work, and i've spent the entire time alone. "but wait" someone in the crowd says, "didn't you spend time with your Christmas." yeah, i did, and we all know that when you're single and surrounded by family you never feel alone.

"well, what about snowboarding?" snowboarding was fun, but once again lonely. i mean, sure, we were drunk the majority of the time, but being up on the slopes and seeing tons of cute snow bunnies all over the place. and before you ask, no, i didn't ask any of them out, girls don't snowboard single, it's the same thing as laughlin... but colder. (single girls don't go to these places, they always go with guys who own a bunch of gear or pay for the trip.)

part of me wants to say that this is the "holiday depression" kicking in, but really, i've felt like this way before Christmas, and i have a feeling i'm going to be like this for a lot longer... they're already putting up Valentines Day crap up at Walmart.

oh, and just to add to the whole "i don't learn" thing, i found a post from three years ago saying nearly everything i've stated here.

I need to stop looking, i need to stop trying, i need to put on a pair of sweatpants and let the rest of my twenties be absorbed into the couch.


Exile

I'm Drowning

as i fall overboard, i am left wondering if you would reach into the darkness to save me? or would you just smile knowing that you pushed me?



into the ocean end it all
into the ocean end it all



Exile

Full Contact Guitar Hero

i'm up in the mountians for a snow boarding trip and my buddy and i broght guitar hero and a bunch of booze.

the combo of the two resulted in him grabbing the guitar and wanging my front tooth with it.

it was a total accident, but it chipped off the front of my already fake tooth.

as far as snowboarding injuries go, not too bad, right?

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Haiku Fridays

These haiku’s are late

Day seven of eight days straight

Way too much damn work

 

Four years from today

The last time the date repeats

In my/our life time

 

Have to ask her out

Be direct, time is slipping

It’s all or nothing

 

 

 

 

Exile

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Decent Into Madness

when you're at the edge, what keeps you from falling?





Exile

Haiku Fridays

Hurt myself bowling

And now I’m bowling better

The price of greatness…

 

My work changed its mind

Now THREE WEEKS OFF for Christmas

(too much of a good thing?)

 

Winter closes in

And it gets so cold at night

When you’re all alone

 

 

Exile

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The Game

Tuesday night was league bowling night for my dad and I decided to sub in again. (Fifteen bucks for some pizza, a pitcher of coke, and three games of bowling, not too bad.)

 

Lately, I’ve been in a slump. A couple weeks ago I bowled a 177, but lately it’s been 126 city (the bowling shoes are the only things stinking up the alley.) last night my high game was a 153, not much to talk about, but then again, this story isn’t about me.

 

Two lanes over my dad was bowling with his team, they were bowling a little less than their average, but still not doing too bad. But this night was a bit of preliminary to the league finals.

 

My dad’s team had carved out nice little spot for themselves in first place. Now, I say “little spot” because while they were in first, they were only there by half a point. There was another team hot on their heels. Well last night my dad’s team took on the second place team.

 

It was a “old school vs. new school” rivalry. The bowlers on my dad’s team were all “classic bowlers.” They all threw with a hook, but bowled much like you see average bowlers bowl. (you know, swinging it down past their knees like Granny’s boobs.) but the other guys do the hook throw that looks like a retard hurling a discus. (While it might look retarded these guys were closing in on 300 scores).

 

My dad’s team was doing it’s best, but it was just an off night. A pin here, a pin there, and the score would slowly slip away. Every League nigh there are three games bowled. They lost the first one by a couple pins, but one the second one by a couple (naturally that’s with the handicap in place.)

 

It came down to the last game.

 

No, it came down to the last Frame.

 

Oh no, no just the last frame, but the last bowlers. My Dad Vs The Kid (I forgot his name.) with the handicaps for both bowlers calculated in the scores were neck and neck. The kid had to “Turkey” to win (a turkey is three strikes in a row), and while sweating bullets, he pulled it off. Three strikes in a row. As the last few pins crashed all eyes turned to my dad. It was the whole “two outs, bases loaded, bottom of the ninth” cliché.

 

My dad approached the line; the first throw was a strike. A huge sigh came from every one watching. His second throw missed the mark and left three pins diagonally standing.

 

Just three pins. To tie the other team he needed to pick up two pins, to win, he needed that spare.

 

The pressure in these moments is killer, far worse than you can imagine, there in front of you are three pins clustered together in a diagonal. For those unfamiliar with the game this is one of the easier spares to pick up. The reason is that if you hit that front pin at nearly any point you will cause a ricochet into the other pins (if not with the pins, the ball will defiantly make contact.) an audience had formed around their table, other bowlers stopped to watch this throw. Everything came down to it and my dad’s eyes were focused like a laser.

 

Everyone held their breath as he threw…

 

the ball sailed down the lane, spinning in the oil, spinning faster, faster… too fast. The ball hooked a fraction of a second too late, was off the mark by a single board, it was all it took.

 

The ball slid behind the first pin and took out the last two. The whimsical cartoon bowling pins holding up an “open” sign couldn’t lighten the mood on this one. If the waves of frustration that radiated from this man had been focused at that remaining pin I’m sure it would have taken wing, flown down the alley, and reduced that pin to ash…

 

My dad shook hands with the other team, and they had to admit that to win they had to bowl their absolute best. I reminded my dad that making someone have to fight that hard to win is it’s own victory, but I could tell he upset.

 

It took me a moment to realize that he wasn’t upset that his team lost (he’s not petty like that), but rather this was his first dose of humility.

 

As far back as I can remember my dad has always been the best at everything. Now, I know you’re thinking that this is the whole “my daddy is the bestest ever” thing, but historical evidence backs this statement up. When he was in high school he was the star of his swim team. he married young, had a family, and a career while everyone else he knew was drinking themselves to death. He was the head of his softball team. When I was in high school I remember him bring home trophies from his bowling league like they were airline peanuts (back when airlines gave out peanuts… damn I’m old.) he ritualistically kicked out asses at miniature gold, at batting cages, and any other sport like thing we did as a family. if you needed it he could build it, if it broke he could fix it (and if he couldn’t it’s because I broke it. Hehehe). The only thing he couldn’t do, is lose.

 

The game he bowled was good, damn good, but not as good as he used to do… before the brain surgery he was caring a 186 as his low average. In his prime he could have trounced that other team.

 

His drive to always win and always be the best is what made cancer his bitch, and even though he has made such a tremendous recovery, it’s times like this that send his pride into remission.

 

 

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