"Stand up and be counted,for what you are about to receive "

The blog following is no longer zero!!!! Thanks Rodney.

Of course now I feel even more compelled to update on an semi-regular basis. I am going to start taking *Mrs. Fuckles' advice and blog the stream of consciousness rants that come out of my mouth.Today provided many points to rail about. It's the "holiday season" which compelled me to go to Freeport on a quest for...snow pants. The middle progeny put them on her Xmas list, I felt obliged to make a pilgrimage to the mecca of outlets and LL Bean to procure her humble guilt laden request. I say guilt-laden due to my daughter's ability to turn any slight into fodder for future therapy and scathing tell-all tome ala "Mommie Dearest"...I wouldn't mind the wardrobe or drag following though. My day was supposed to start at 10 am, but I fought the snooze and the snooze won,not to mention the fact that I was out of clean underpants;who can shop without clean undies seriously? I managed to make it to Casa Los Fuckles before noon, and was rewarded with a combo of fresh coffee plus a side of confab. Elizabeth and I managed to make it to Freeport to only be rewarded with parking turmoil...do the holidays cause people to become blinker deficient? Do you act like you are giving up your parking space just to watch other drivers become perturbed? After 15 minutes of circling like a buzzard in the midst of a panic attack I hit pay dirt..right in front of Starbucks. Parking and coffee! God must not completely hate me after all...
I always enjoy listening to other peoples' coffee orders;the self aware pretentious procedure of it bemuses me.I love coffee LOVE IT, but my self identity is not intrinsically mired in half foam, soy or splenda. I mean by all means order what you want, but don't posture like a low rent supermodel jonesing for cancer sticks and a Birkin bag. The middle age woman in front of us ordered her drink haughtily, while flipping her hair in our general direction; she scanned the crowd, with her nose cast skyward hopelessly clinging to a youth long since past. Was she on her way to Abercombie & Fitch to procure her double size zero jeans? Perhaps my recollection would not be so harsh if her disdain for her fellow coffee drinkers had not been so palatable. It was after all the holiday season, would it have killed her to show basic human respect and decency?

"I'm a loser baby..."

I think I have become resigned to failure. This morning my counselor made the observation that I am an enabler...the elephant in the room has been called out! Of course as luck would have it...illness strikes again;the professional patient was ill. The dialysis unit would not release him unless I took custody of him which meant missing class again. The CIS nazi will not accept late work or make up labs. Guess who is going to fail Computer Science..show of hands. Yep that would be me. I think I punched the steering wheel at least 20 times, and then numbness everywhere. This is supposedly the depression talking,but truthfully I think the jig is finally up and I really am a fucking loser. No unrealized potential, no chance, no prospects just the cold reality of mediocrity. I get points for showing up though because as the cliche goes "half of life is showing up". Thank G-d the oven isn't gas.

"But this life is so confusing. Feels like I'm always losing"

I haven't posted in quite some time. Life happens and I don't always seize the opportunity to write about it consistently,and living it requires every vestige of my being.I don't think I even have readers at this point;at some point did I ever? My mind is over run with so many thoughts that the prospect of articulating any of them coherently makes me emit a screech. Seriously...the people who live with me find it extremely unnerving.I also have to store up my concentration for essays for school.I guess the point of all this drivel is to excuse myself. I really do feel like the post title fits.I started this blog to channel the muck deep within myself out;the bile that bubbled up needed to go somewhere. I was overwhelmed. I still am but I have become much more adapt at hiding it. I will get there. I just wish I knew where "there" was, and when I was going to get there. Perseverance is a real bitch.

" I can't make you hang around.I can't wash you off my skin.Outside the frame, is what we're leaving out "

I tend not to self edit, which causes considerable damage in some social situations but this still hasn't served as a means for change. I continue to spew forth honesty that would be better left unsaid...I know no other way. My relationship examples are textbook narcissists,misogynists and philanders. I don't disclose this out of a desperate need for pity, I am just rather matter of fact regarding every facet of my life. I grew up seeing people living within the confines of their lies, it informed every action they executed, every nuance of their speech and left a child perplexed as to what ulitimately was meant by all of the duplicity. I now find myself hurling toward a maxim of honesty above all else. It makes me unbearable to live with, at least that's the feeling I get.

"Do you believe it in your head? It's so safe to play along"

Have you ever wondered what reaction spontaneous combustion could trigger in one's spouse? By that I mean, what would the husband or wife, whatever the case may be for you,do? Would they stand there dumbfounded or shriek "OH MY GOD!!!!" or if they're an atheist "What the fuck!!" Would they keep listening to the game or would they pause, acknowledge then move on? I assume that they would react. I assume too much. I use the concept of a "loved one" igniting in flames as an extreme albeit unlikely scenario...well in my case not so unlikely. The point? It would cause you to react.
Now say your wife packs a sizable amount of her belongings into her car, a Volvo station wagon, and then proceeds to leave. She then takes it upon herself to sleep in said car, why roomy not exactly 4 star accommodations, she then returns. Would you assume there would be a reaction? Not in this house. If you lived in this house you would behave with the dutiful passive aggressive nature that has become your nom de plume. If you lived in this house you'd make potshots under your breath then pretend to be silent. If you lived in this house you'd find inane things to start conversations with but ignore the bile creeping up the back of your throat. If you lived in this house...you'd sleep in a Volvo too.