Skip to main content

In briefs.

No, not really; I'm just in plain ole boxers this morning. However, here are some brief updates/coming attractions.

Bullettime!

  • I fought with my mom last week. See, we never fight. Ever. It was kinda weird, but it turned out better than anyone could have expected.
  • I bought the coolest fucking steel/aluminum water bottle. It blew my mind, and I blew my wad. I also bought the sweetest bell for my bike imaginable.
  • Thanksgiving was pretty neato. Buncha peeps, large-ish turkey, good conversation, good times.
  • I survived Black Friday. See, I've never even been in a mall/store on Black Friday; I worked at American Eagle for 8 1/2 hours (actually turned out more like 9ish/10ish). And you know something? It wasn't so bad. I even think I'm starting to get the hang of this 'outfitting' stuff.
  • I completely rearranged and cleaned my room. It's kinda nuts. So much freed up floorspace; no idea where it all came from. And it looks/feels amazing. I'll post before/after pictures soon.
  • I know I cheated you out of last week's Bad Movie Monday.... I was doing a lot of chores as well as completely tearing down and rebuilding my room and I told myself to hold out until at least things were put back together. And then I forgot or stuff. I'll work on something real nice for tomorrow, though. If not, you'll still get some brief shitty shit this week and something fantastic next week. So, fear not (though, I'm sure maybe only one of you even noticed XD).
  • I realized the other day that I've really been changing. It's kinda nuts. How I carry myself, dress myself, treat myself...and resultingly, I'm sure, how I affect others. It's kinda nuts, really really.
Anyway I think that's it for today's Bullettime. More later, folks.

Comments

Other things that might interest you...

On aging, and fear.

To begin with, I’m not sure you’re aware of it, but I’m middle aged. Oh? What gave it away? Using a blog as my primary literary medium?¹ Hm. But in fact, the APA defines 35 years as the end of “young adulthood.” Yeah. I found out via some shitpost on twitter when I was already 35, so it didn’t sit well with me then either. But my worries about aging began much sooner than that. See, even in my 20s, I feared I’d been wasting my life. I’d struggled with school and life and everything since graduating high school, arguably sooner, and nothing seemed to be going anywhere meaningful . I felt I had a limited social life, a dead-end job, no money, no great travels, a limping love life; I was, generally, a loser, wasting away... There were none of the usual hallmarks of success or happiness. And that scared me. Would my life have been worth it if I continued in this direction? Would it have been a “life well lived” by the end? So, this is my existential struggle. Even now, as I lurch ever nea

Changing lanes.

I was driving home in some traffic last night when I drifted, in my mind, a long way back (about 20 years) to high school. I was caught in one of those periodic traffic slowdowns as I floated back; you know, those waves of congestion that seem to pass backward through the columns of cars in each lane. (I've heard they start because someone switches lanes, and in response, a rippling emergent slowness travels backward and outward as the cars behind it accommodate the change, one by one.) What drew me back to those younger days was that, back in high school, similar phenomena of congestion took place in the halls between classes, when eddies of young humans would get caught in and around those clumps of those chatting by lockers or retrieving books. Occasionally, backups would occur when groups of people got caught in these eddies, or collided with other groups by the lockers, and slowdowns would ripple back from there. Maybe it's not exactly the same, but as I drove it seemed si

On phases and fixations.

My fixations are powerful, but they can also be maddeningly ephemeral and fleeting. And I hate that; about them and, honestly, about myself. But I’ve never really  asked why I feel that way... I'll commit immense amounts of time and energy and even money to a fixation for a few weeks, maybe even a month or two, sometimes rebranding my whole personality around it, then just...move on. I'm not sure when I first noticed this pattern—if it was always there or if it emerged and intensified over time—but it's been part of me for a long while. And every time I do, I feel such guilt and shame. Who even am I if I can't be consistent, dedicated, substantive? How disingenuous is it that nothing I care about lasts? I’ve always just accepted those feelings; I’ve never poked at them in earnest. If you can’t tell from the recent flurry of activity on this blog, I have been fixated on blogging; I mentioned in a recent post about this blog that I had a compulsion to revamp the whole bl