Laundry! Huzzah!

Sunday is generally my laundry day. On that day, I do one load at a time (that's what she said) and it takes nearly all day for me to do the entirety of my laundry, so I have some time to find something to do. Usually I stay up in my room and watch movies on Netflix. Though the last couple of times I've been watching comedy specials. Right now I'm watching "Pablo Francisco: Bits & Pieces". I've seen 90% of this material already in other specials, but his impersonations of ethnic stereotypes still make me laugh every time. Also, he's really good at sound effects. He's like the Mexican Michael Winslow....or something like that. I actually enjoy these days quite a bit. They're some of the most relaxing days I have. Doing laundry is not rocket science, though I'm never quite sure I'm doing it right all the time (that's what she said). In any case, nothing is expected of me the whole day (usually) and I do what I want... which is pretty much nothing at all. Usually I just lie in bed and watch Netflix...which I mentioned earlier. It's relaxing and I often fall asleep before the movie finishes. Unless the movie is fucking awesome, like "Bronson". I was awake the whole time even though I was extremely relaxed. I was actually paying full attention, which is a huge accomplishment for me. It's the small victories in life. *nods*  I'm often amazed that I open up this blog window with the full intention of doing some idea and being really in-depth and meaningful. But I seem to write about the mundane bullshit in my life. But you know what? I love my life right now. And I like a lot of what I do with my life. So blogging about it is somewhat enjoyable for me. I fully blame watching "Doogie Howser" during my impressionable and formative years. Maybe if I play the music that always accompanied the end segment of the show I'd be as profound as that fucker. And maybe not.

I Don't Know What to Title This But It's About My House-wanting Adventure(s)...Sort Of

I'm saving up for a house and it's becoming increasingly clear what my limits are financially, and what my limits are to what "fixer-upper" means to me. I can actually afford some really nice houses right at this very moment (any sort of down payment notwithstanding), but they would pretty much rob me of that whole "comfort" thing I'm so adamant about having. Also, I would be freaking the fuck out every month as the various bills came in that I may or may not have been able to pay. I realized this pretty early on when I started thinking about buying a home. Not that it factored into my thinking when I actually looked at houses online. On the exact opposite end of the spectrum, I've looked at some houses that need some serious work. By the way, I probably should mention that when I say "looked at", I mean "I saw a house online and a couple of buddies and I went to look at the exteriors of some houses." Moving on... Even the houses I liked were in some rather sketchy neighborhoods. So I'm now constantly re-evaluating what it is I want in a house and where I want that house to be based on what I can find on the market. I'm doing far more math scenarios than I have in a long time. I don't think anyone realizes just how much I hate math and I hate doing math to figure this shit out but it's a necessary evil. I am facing this demon head-on, and I will fucking kick its ass until I can make it completely un-exist!....or something like that. I'm not completely set on where I should live yet. But I do know that right now, there's really only one house I've seen that I think I'd want to live in....I should probably look INSIDE houses before I make the real decision though, don't you think? *nods*

How I View My Job

I'm sitting here, watching "How I Met Your Mother", feeling rather ambivalent to the show. It has moments, but it's not really funny. I think my blood pressure is getting high again. I haven't slept well in days, and I'm pretty sure that my work environment is a contributing factor to it. When everything goes as it should, my job actually makes me happy, and I actually like it. As it is, I often have to put up with a lot of BS and the laziness of my co-workers. I'm not saying I'm the perfect employee, but I've definitely got a good work ethic. I try to do my job, and everyday I hope that my coworkers will do their own jobs so I can leave them alone and they can leave me alone. Even when everything goes perfectly and I'm loving my job, I do not ever WANT to be there. I would much rather be doing other things. But as it stands, I have to work to live, so I do. I try not to complain about my job at my job. I save that shit for here on this blog. Lately, though, I've been letting my boss know that some things that have been bothering me. He acknowledges them....and more or less does nothing about them. And that's actually okay with me. Early on, I recognized that my boss is not the best boss, but he's a good guy who just wants to get along with everyone. I can understand that and I don't begrudge my boss that. I just wish he was more boss-like. Still, I'm happy to be employed right now. The fact of the matter is, I really would put up with so much more bullshit as long as it meant that I kept my employment and those paychecks keep rolling in. I feel damn fortunate that I've got this steady employment that has finally enabled me to save up money for a house. Me. Saving to buy a house. Holy fucking dog shit, dude....

It's Nice

I almost didn't blog today, even though I really wanted to. I find that to be an odd, but very real, feeling. I suppose you could call that complex, but that sort of thing hurts my brain, so I'll thank you to keep that shit to yourself. I think I really wanted to blog about this certain thing that I've been thinking about a lot lately because I've think I've been getting too much sleep. So I'm doing this to keep myself up a little longer. It probably won't have much of an effect, but it's worth a shot. Maybe soon I'll get around to blogging about that idea I have. Probably not, but it's nice to think about. Nice to think about? Huh. I often find myself in a situation where I'm thinking to myself, this is nice. Nothing spectacular is happening but nothing horrible is happening. It's just nice. Nice: it's highly underrated. I have a nice life. It's not spectacular and it's not special, but it's mine and it does not suck. I suppose I'm content that it doesn't suck so I think it's nice. My life is satisfying to me. It could be more satisfying, but it's been less satisfying in the past, so I figure this is a win for now. I feel like I keep saying the same goddamn thing over and over again, so I'm just going to stop here. I used to be semi-competent when it came to blogging, but I really think this particular blog is terrible. Still, I'm glad I wrote it and that's good enough for me. It's nice.

2nd Test of First Theory and Positing of a Brand New Theory

This is my second test of how difficult it would be to write 500 words in one sitting. My first experiment proved that I COULD write 500 words in one sitting. And while I’m sure a monkey banging on a keyboard can write 500 words in one sitting, I figure it’s still something to be proud of. Small victories and all that good stuff. While I am again testing my 500 word theory, I’m also here to lay out another goal for another time, after I have more proof that I can write 500 words in one sitting. This goal is to see how hard it would be to write 500 words about one idea. I’m thinking I should start off with some small basic story, like a person getting on a swing, and the joy this person feels swinging, and then this person stops swinging and walks into the sunset, as it were. Yeah, that seems like a good overly-simplistic story  to start out with. Of course, I’ll probably change my mind by the time I get around to implementing this new experiment, but such is the price of being me, I suppose.  If nothing else, I can tell myself that I am actually putting forth SOME effort in this writing endeavor. In any case, I think doing a small story like a person on a swing is a good starting point. I’d like to think of it as being a children’s book story, but that seems to belittle children’s book authors. Sure, they really are small stories with basic words, but nothing is ever as simple as it seems, right? Right. I think that I’m going to have to do many experiments with the writing of 500 words of a single idea, as I fear it’s inevitable that I’ll start over-thinking the direction of the story with each word. That has always been my biggest weakness as a writer. Sometimes I get over it with a simple “fuck it” and get on with my writing, but that’s never happened with a story. It’s only happened with reports. Give me five minutes and the who, what, where, when, why, and how basics, and I can spit out whatever length of  report that is needed. I’ve always been excellent at that kind of writing, but it’s always been a bit of a temporary salve to the writing thirst I feel. Mostly, I find it boring. I can do it, but I don’t like it, in other words. Now, with what I’m trying to accomplish, I seem to have the opposite problem. I love the ideas, but I don’t like the writing aspect. It’s much harder than non-fiction writing, even though I can obviously make up whatever shit I want. Perhaps that’s the problem. I need guidelines and boundaries. And I need to see the whole picture before I put anything down to print. I don’t want to over-think things then, but if I have an idea of where I want to go, then I think I might have a better chance at feeling confident in how to write it. That’s this theory and I’m sticking to it. Maybe.

Word Count: 528

500 Word Count Method

This is a test. This is only a test. I’m seeing how difficult, both in thinking and time, writing at least 500 words a weekend would be. I want to see if I can make a story actually happen. I usually wait until inspiration hits me and that’s more often than not only given me some interesting and some not so interesting starts to stories. Never an end, and rarely a middle. When I write, I usually just start with an idea or a sentence and go from there, hoping that this is the one time my idea or sentence will lead to something whole and complete. My thinking now is that maybe I should focus on a word count goal for every time I sit down and write. Once I achieve that goal, I can revel in the satisfaction that I achieved my goal for that time. My buddy, Theo, suggested I try what his English Composition 1 instructor does, which is to sit down to write for only 5 minutes, and tell herself that she is only going to write for 5 minutes. When that 5 minutes is up, if she feels like writing more, she’ll tell herself that she’ll only write for 5 minutes more. If she’s satisfied with what she’s done then, she’ll stop. But if she wants to do more, she’ll give herself another 5 minutes. I’ve thought about doing this as well. But I think I want to try what I’m going to call “The Word Count Method”. Wrath James White, one of my favorite authors, seems to use this method. Perhaps not for the same reasons, but he gives himself a set amount of words to write, and then he works toward that goal. Sometimes he doesn’t reach that goal before for some reason or another, he has to quit for the day. But usually, he does reach his goal and then some. So I’m going to try the Word Count method and see how that pans out for me. The quality of the writing is not so much a concern at this point. I’m just trying to reach a word count while taking a story from a beginning to a middle, and hopefully, an end. I want to say that if I reach the end of a story that I will be happy even if I never write another. I hope that’s not the case, though, as I do enjoy writing. I just have a short attention span. So I’m hoping this will work and that the first story will lead to another and that will lead to another and so on. I’m a bit afraid now to look and see how many words I’m at, as I’m not entirely confident I’ve neared my goal. But I think I’ve said all I can about what I want to achieve with this method. I suppose I should point out that I don’t have a particular story in mind to start this all off with, and that could be a major problem. But I definitely don’t lack for story ideas, so I might just start with the first one that comes into my mind and go from there. Also, I should mention that if I get good results from this, that I might try doing a certain amount of words on another day. Since I work full-time now, and I’m often exhausted when I get home from work, this may prove to not be possible. But if it is, then I might set a goal of, say, 200 words one day a week during the work week, and see how that goes. But for now, I’m going to focus on doing the 500 words per weekend and see what happens with that. Well, I think I’ve reached the end of what I set out to do with this ramble. Let’s see how many words I’ve written….

Word Count: 654 (including “Word Count”)

SUCCESS!!!

Growth Spurt

I live with my parents and I'm approaching my third decade in this world. I didn't always live with them, but for the majority of my life I have. Call it laziness, "Failure to Launch", selfishness, madness, whatever. It is what it is. I don't believe in fate or destiny or any of that pre-ordained crap. I used to, though. I used to believe in it more than I believed anything else. My life's path was set in stone, and there was nothing I could do about it. So I just sat back and let things happen as they might, without too much interference on my part. And that's probably why I'm here today, living with my parents. I waited for destiny, but that bitch never came. She didn't even call back after giving me such hopes and dreams. Destiny is a huge cock-tease. But like I said, I don't believe in that crap anymore. But I do believe things happen. No, not for a reason, as a reason is a given when something happens. Does that make sense? I mean, something causes something to happen, thus giving something a "reason". So I figure, it's a bit redundant and silly (in a bad way) to say, "everything happens for a reason". It's probably why I get nasty looks every time someone says that and my response is always (ALWAYS) "well, duh". I'm nothing if not a tactless bastard. And I'm okay with that. I don't need the love of everyone to make me happy. I'm perfectly content with the love of my family and a handful of friends. Which brings me to the real meat of this blog. I live with my parents, which I've already said before. My father is the same age as most people's grandparents. My mother is the same age as most people's, uh, parents. I'd say, " you do the math", but since I didn't give any actual ages, you have my permission to think poorly of my parents if you so choose. That's your deal, not mine. Even if I know you're wrong. But that's neither here nor there. Back on track... I live with a retiree and a working woman. They are both in relatively good health. They both look really really good for their respective ages. Well, at least, my dad USED to. For about the past month, he's been slowly declining. No, I don't mean "dying". I mean, he's beginning to show his age due to an unexplained back pain that has more or less crippled him into an invalid state of being. As a result, my mother and I have had to step up to pick up what my father has been forced to drop. For years (yes, years) I've joked with my friends and family that the REAL reason I still live at home isn't because of a shitty economy and my lack of many marketable skills, nor is it because of my lack of money. We'd all joke that it's because I'm taking care of my father as he gets older and less able to do many things. So it would seem to some as fate or destiny or whatever that I was meant to stay at home this entire time, just so down the road, at this moment, I could step up and take over for my father and take care of him and the house. You'll have to excuse me if I laugh at anyone for thinking that.You know what I see? I see an inevitability (my father's aging, therefore lessening of what he can and can't do). If that's fate, then it's just a fancy way of stating the obvious. If I sound bitter or angry, then that has more to do with my deficient abilities to properly convey my point than anything else. And that may come as a surprise to some people. I love my parents. They are great people, and it makes me happy to do things for them (even if I, at times, seem ungrateful--which is admittedly often. But that's another story for another day). For those who know me in Real Life, you may be worried that, since I'm blogging about it that I must be sad. After all, the whole reason I started blogging in the first place was to get free counsel for the problems, real and percieved, I was facing at the time. But this particular blog DOES have one thing in common with my old blogging habits. I'm not sure of what I'm doing, so I'm blogging. I am blogging to seek help in that regard. I have no idea what I'm doing. I'm just a simple man-child who has been "forced" into a wholly adult role. But you know what? It feels "right" to be "forced" into this position of much increased responsibility. That's not to say that it's destiny or anything. It means that, due to how events unfolded, I am doing what I think is best, which makes it feel "right" to me. I'm going to do what is best for my family because they have done the same for me and because I love them and I haven't and will never think twice about helping any of them. All this being said, I wouldn't be surprised if I start to blog more frequently, recounting my adventures in grocery shopping, making dinner, and basically being a..... Stay-at-Home Son or a House-child? I guess those are what you would call me....  I dunno. If anyone can think of something more awesome, that would be super! I realize there's a high-potential for blandness and much suckage in blogging about every day things, but these things are woefully new to me once again, after so long of not doing them. And when I DID do them, I wasn't very good, so it's really worth it (to me) to blog about it, because it's almost a guarantee that hilarity will ensue.