Avoiding work........

This more of a stream of consciousness type of blog, so if it gets wierd deal with it.

I am the author of my own nervous breakdown. I write it in shakes and gibbers, pangs and shivers. In a deep enough depression, none of my bills get paid. Anti-depressants don't so much get rid of anger, sadness, and rage as much as they put a wall in front of it. Eventually something will get through but it will hit like a sponge instead of a brick. Someone beautiful told me that emotion gets built up inside of your muscles along with your mind. After a while your mind works it out and deals with it, but your body still needs to work it out. I have the strangest feelings while I'm exercising. Sometimes I feel Psychotic, other times I'm scared, other times I'm desperate, but I always feel good afterwards. When I punch a heavy bag, I imagine I'm battling my own stomach, just the stomach and the love handles. I pound on my gut until its black and blue or until I'm out of breath. The problem is, the more I work out, the harder my stomach gets. Hopefully soon, I'll be punching a brick wall, or a wash board.

A friend told me that Mcdonald's was serving breakfast all day long instead of cutting it off at 10:30AM. I thought that this was a much more important issue for Mickey D's to deal with, I mean nevermind the nutritional content of the menu in general, the problem is we don't have enough breakfast.

I've learned that when I'm depressed, I sleep and eat more. I don't give a crap when or how long I sleep. I don't give a crap what or how much I eat. Someone with a PHD told me that my innerchild is running my life (the little bastard). I said that this makes perfect sense. I want junkfood, candy, movies, and to play video games a lot. Doing stuff like washing clothes, washing dishes, paying bills, cleaning the house, fixing the house, mowing the lawn, buying groceries, looking for a new job isn't fun for me. My inner-little-shit is in control, it's time to put him down for a long nap.

Brain-matter decorating.....

It's another Monday! Can you handle it? That seems to be the question at large running around with an assault rifle and eagle-eyes. Another week has come and gone, and yet I feel nothing but exhaustion. Nothing was resolved like some episode of House where Dr. House and Dr. Cameron come THIS CLOSE to fooling around but he grows a conscience and stops the whole thing because "She's trying to Save him like she was trying to Save her dying husband. " If I were single and Dr. Cameron wanted to "Save" me, I'd be like "HELP ME!! HELP ME!!! I'm DROWNING in my own terminal desperation!" Then again, Cameron had no problem doing X and shacking up with another one of her collegues, you really don't know where she's been. She's a bad girl! During that episode, she looked like a total hard-core drug user: Skinny, dark circles around the eyes, face looking semi-haggard. That ranks right up there with Mariska Hargitay's make-up job. That one just screams: I'm a miserable cop surrounded by chain-smokers, dealing with the scum of the earth, trying not to get any on me. I say it like this because it's really hard to make either one of those women look burnt out and haggard, they're both gorgeous, but look at me again, stating the obvious.

Fun with photo shop!

BE CAREFUL OF PET NAMES!!!!!!

I was bantering back and forth on line with my honey and she asked if I was her "sexy lovey bear?" To this I replied "GRRRAAAAOOOOORRR!!!"; Because, in deed, I am her "sexy lovey bear." I do believe that I've reached "sexy lovey bear status." I am a class-five "sexy lovey bear." So, with that being said and stated, she proceded to tell me of the image that this string of cute-zy, cute-zy conjured up:

"Suddenly I have a picture of you in a really fake looking bear costume, with a pink tutu around your waist, riding a tiny tricycle with huge bear feet!"

Suddenly, I had that picture as well. So I decided to doctor it up and send it to all of you as a warning: Becareful of pet names, because YOU TOO can wear a TU-TU!!!

Like an unsharpened pencil....completely pointless!

Sorry....I have to vent. I'm hanging on to a shooting star that recently turned into a falling rock. Just another metaphor for this cluster-fuck I call LIFE. Life isn't neat. You come into this world messy, you go out even messier. From point to point, it's a scientifically proven fact that there's a lot of pain, fear and discomfort in between. So why aren't all of us given a straight razor when we're 3 years old and why aren't we being told " Hack away little Johnny!" The only thing that life can really give you, that neither time or erosion, or sickness can take away is experience. The things you go through, good or bad are what's important. Knowing love, hate, anger, hopelessness, fear, peace, pleasure, and Happiness is all we can really take from this experience. Well, there's my deep thought for the week. Back to work......