To Each His pwn3d

Okay, picked up mom's at the doctor and talked to "Paul's Homie." If you drink enough, you will know everyone everywhere. Or, at least they will know you. I'll be mayor someday.

So, here's some random stuff. I had this epiphanical Sunday where I accepted happiness into my life as my personal savior. I was sitting in a a pair of sweats, watching soccer, waiting for a pizza and it happened. It felt like 1000 pounds of weight lifted off my shoulders. It was just in time, too. The previous Friday, I spent a half day with my sister and she explained that she had never seen me truly happy since we were kids and said that she worries about me constantly. She asked me very nicely to go on meds and I was pretty much ready to. It's really a last ditch effort for me because I'm not a huge fan of medicated happiness. See Brave New World by Aldous Huxley and you will understand. It doesn't end well.

The truth is that she is right. I've lived through other's happiness most of my life and find satisfaction in making others happy, but have never truly understood how to be happy personally based on my own personal merits. I'm aware of it and it's scary as hell. I do feel, however, that it's getting seriously better. I've road tested the new happiness and thrown it up against family, booze, and whatever else I could find that might ruin it and it's been bulletproof so far. Of course, dating is out of the question and should not be approached under any circumstance. The last girl that I "dated" (it's in quotes because the term "dated" is a real loose use of the word) indirectly caused me to start smoking again and really left a mark. She was pretty cool and pretty cute, but it wasn't in the cards. Hung me up for a little bit, though. I didn't care for it.

So, no dating and spending Fridays that aren't on a soccer field at home watching this piece of shit. The Next Great American Band is one of the most dog shitty shows I have ever seen. An analogy would be if you were playing Trivial Pursuit with someone and every question that they answered, they got wrong and the person reading the card encouraged them by telling them that they got it right and you are stuck there never hearing the right answer to any of the questions. It's horrible. The glimmer of great was the little kids playing Iron Maiden, but the novelty wears off too quickly. Plus, thirteen year old boys with their shirts off feels weird. The dog shit supremacy award goes to the douche lead singer of The Hatch. I really hope they didn't take their name from Lost because that would be super gay. They are horrible, though. They are the chick at your party singing Bonnie Raitt with her finger in her ear as if her monitor went out and she was on stage. Like they look like they are doing it for real, but they sound like grilled ass.

On paper, I'm currently reading A Long Way Down. I got it at the Salvation Army for a dollar. I try to go once amonth and buy all the decent books that they have for a dollar. It brings used book shopping to the next level. Plus, you get to see all the freaks at the Salvation Army which is like taking the freaks at Walgreen's to the next level which is just the freaks from Long's at the next level. Anyway, it's an easy read and Nick Hornby is always enjoyable. I wasn't really into it at first, but there were some really weird coincidences in the book that kind of hit home, so I kept going. I'm almost done. It's good. I'm also reading Oracle Database 10g SQL. Not real interesting, but reinforcing my Structured Query language skills. I need structure in my life.

I'm currently listening to, of course, the new Ween. Pulling out old DJ Shadow and Cut Chemist stuff. Recently discovered Mac Lethal and I think I like him, but I'm wary of his Slim Shadiness. Calm Down Baby is one of my favorite jams right now, though. I found it extremely inspiring. He seems legit. The new Aesop Rock never gets old. I've also been getting melancholy to Feist and Cat Power when I'm hiding from the world. Tons of Elliot Smith which is very dangerous sometimes, but he was so fucking good. Also sneaking in old Stevie Wonder and some Coltrane. I like to throw my iPod on shuffle every once in a while to see what it shakes out. It loves the Karate Kid soundtrack very much. Also, digging Veto and KEXP live performance podcasts. Currently, listening to one by Magnet from April '06. It's pretty good.

So, funny story. I was on my way to my soccer game last Friday and discussing relationships and the caveats of dating married women to my neighbor. Then we discussed the importance of finding individual happiness and being okay with yourself and being okay alone. I looked at him and said "Dude, I'm happy with myself right now and even if a cute girl walked up to me and asked to exchange numbers, I would tell her 'no'."

So, after soccer, some of us went for beers at the bar near the field and it was full of Halloweeners. The one night of the year that I didn't stick out for having a soccer jersey on. It was kind of cool. I had taken a pretty bad shot to the neck from someone's cleat (you can still see it on my chest) and was out front squatting down because everything ached.

This red headed girl dressed as something Bavarian squatted down to talk to me. I just assumed she needed a cigarette. So we talked for a little bit and then I stood up and she started getting really close talkey. So, whatevs, I told her my name after she gave me a fake name and went inside. She was cute and I was in danger of being a hypocrite. The worst of all the crites combined.

I went out for a smoke and bumped into her again. I ended up buying her a drink while she started getting touchy and telling me how cute I was. I won't lie. I appreciate being told that I'm cute. Her friend ran in and told her that their friend was sick and that they had to go. This is the part where I got pwn3d. She asked to exchange numbers. Pure pwnag3.

She ended up coming back and we hung out for a bit. It was nice. She said "really" a lot and also tried to make out with me in the bar, but I'm not real down with that. It tends to send a mixed message to the bar patrons and I find it a disrespectful gesture to the public. And the crowning achievement of the night for me was waking up alone with my credit card and no hangover. I cared for it.