Moving In and Moving Up

Well this is it. I’m finally on my own. It’s been about a day and a half since I’ve been on my own. My friends and family helped me move in yesterday and it was a pretty easy process although I had to endure it all while maintaining a hangover. But that’s neither here nor there. There weren’t many big items to move; just my desk and my bed. So even though I’m not in my old room anymore, at least I’m still sleeping on my same bed that I’ve had for a while now. Honestly, it still hasn’t hit me that I’m on my own. Well it has but it hasn’t. It’s all hitting me little by little. The biggest jolt by the fact that I’m on my own was when my family was getting ready to leave to go home. I actually cried a little. Not sobbing crying, but a tear left my eye and fell to the ground. That happened when I was saying “goodbye” to my mom. I asked her one thing before she left. I asked, “Mom, are you proud of me?” She said, “Of course I am. I‘m going to miss you.” She said that right before she hugged me and squeezed me tight, reluctant to let go. It really made me sad. I tried to hold my emotions in but I didn’t care. At the same time it made me glad to know I had emotions, to know I truly felt something. It’s good to feel something. It shows you have a soul. It shows you are a human being with compassion and a heart. But overall, I was more sad than happy. I was going to miss these people. My family. The people I’ve lived with for 18 years won’t be there the next morning when I wake up. They are only an hour and a half away. But it’s not like we’ll be making that trip all the time. I’ll probably try to visit as much as I can though.

I’m actually tearing up right now just thinking about it. Isn’t that what life is supposed to be? Making your parents proud? They give you the gift of life and all you can do in return is make them proud to have had you. It sucks when parents don’t feel proud. You do something in hopes of getting their approval and they dismiss it. Everyone should be proud, because everyone is good at something. That something doesn’t have to be what someone else is good at. Everyone must find their own thing. I’m still looking for mine. I’m good at school because I’m good at doing things other people tell me. How awful does that sound? I don’t like to teach myself anything because I’m probably to scared to fail. I give myself the excuse that I want to learn from the best so I can be the best, but that comes from shear fear. I honestly don’t know much about anything. I don’t know much about life. I feel that the school system has failed me. School is just regurgitating facts back out at the teachers so they feel that they taught you something, even though you forget it all a couple weeks later. I think school is just a test. Well everything up to high school is anyway. It’s a test to see whether or not you can handle the forcing of information onto you. Most of the stuff we will never see again. They just test us to see that we are capable of learning something and progressing as a person. Once we pass the test, then what? After years and years of listening to someone tell you everything and you repeat it right back to them, what do you do? They’re not always going to be there telling you what to do. That is what is so messed up about school. All your life, you’ve been told what to do. Then at the end of all that, they just throw you out there and say “go do it.” But do what? No one is going to hold your hand forever and guide you through life. One day you’re going to be on your own. And it’s going to be scary. I’m scared right now. Scared of the world. Scared of the people in the world. Scared of what will become of me in my life. Will I succeed? Will I fail? Will I be happy? Will I be sad? Everything can all end in an instant. It’s scary to think that, but it happens. Mistakes do happen, some more damaging than others. I’m afraid to make mistakes. But good things happen from mistakes. Hopefully. Because you can learn from those mistakes. If you don’t learn anything, you’ve wasted an opportunity to grow.

So I’m sitting here in my studio apartment on my laptop all by myself with my half-empty Bud Light can next to me. Yes I said “half-empty” because “half-full” just doesn’t fit with the tone of this essay. I don’t think that thinking the can is half-empty is a bad thing because it just means you miss what was once there. You enjoyed what was there and now it’s gone. As long as you enjoyed it while it was there, I think that is a good thing. I’m talking right now as if I’m high on medical marijuana or something, but I assure you I am not. I’ve been in this room all day because I don’t know what to do outside. I’m not the type of person to go up to someone and introduce myself. For those of you who know me know that this is incredibly true. I’m not going to jump in the pool and swim next to some random people and say “Hi, can I join you?” I’ll probably wait to meet people in my classes. Other than that, it looks like I might be in this room for a while. Actually early this morning I talked to the management because roaches showed up in my apartment. Yes I am living in a roach-infested apartment. Fascinating, right? Anyways, I reported the bug problem to them and the bug guy will come here on Wednesday. It’s Sunday today. You do the math. So instead of wait while bugs crawl by the soles of my feet, I went to Target to buy some bug spray and other essential items; which reminds me, I need to buy one of those shower hanger things to put the soap and stuff on. It’s a lot of effort to bend over for soap. For those of you wondering, I do shower alone. The only downside is sharing the bathroom with the apartment next to me. Oh well. As long as he doesn’t rush me while I’m taking a shit, I’ll be fine. I like sitting on the toilet for a long time. I know it’s bad for you, but it’s enjoyable. I can read my books and magazines and catch up on my thoughts. Sometimes I’m on it for so long that my legs fall asleep. Is that bad? Probably. Do I do it anyway? Yes, I do.

I think that this is it for now. I have other things on my mind but I’m not going to share them with the internet universe. Some things should be kept private. Anyways, tomorrow I’m going to try to explore the town around me. I plan on visiting my future school again and locating the buildings where my classes are. Sounds like a good plan. I’ll let you know if I follow through with them.

Fifty-Fifth Day

"I was drunk and angry and stupid... and blogging."

My life is so routine it's ridiculous. I need something to do. I need an idea. (inside joke). One more year hopefully. One more year till I hopefully move out to a school that is far far away. Well not too far. Still in California, but not commuting distance. Nothing seems to be new anymore. Seeing re-runs and remakes only makes it worse. Doesn't anyone try to think of something new for a change? No. Why you ask? Because it's not worth it. There's always the risk factor. What does it come down to? Money. Why take the risk with something new when you can redo something that was already popular once before? No imagination. No effort. Laziness. I am writing this to you because I need something to keep me busy from writing my personal statements that I need to apply to UC's. For you foreign students (you know who you are), UC stands for University of California. With Cal States, we just fill in the blanks. What classes have you taken, and what grades have you gotten. Now for UC's, they want to know what makes you, "you." (I'm probably going to have a bunch of punctuation errors so go screw yourself for caring. This is a blog, not an editorial in the New Yorker). One more year... dot dot dot. New challenges. New excitements. How great, right? Not really. I'm sure I'll just fall back into routine one I get things going again. It's all a cycle. It's all a bubble. Once that bubble bursts, we're all screwed. I quote a lot. So forgive me. I have nothing or no one to write about, but for those of you with a 20 second attention span, you probably haven't even gotten this far on this blog. Why read right? Why not just be told everything? Follow directions and stick to them. Don't do things for yourself. No. That's thinking outside of the box. That's going against everything that they teach you. Read this. Write that. Think this. Do that. Blah. Blah. But wait. Wait a minute. Once you come up with an idea, an idea that can actually sell. They want it. It's then that they'll give you some consideration. So let's not celebrate the creative, let's celebrate the lazy. I'm not saying I'm the hardest worker out there. Because I'm not. I'm blogging for Christ's sake. I'm not out there working my ass off to support myself. Because I am already supported. I'm sheltered. And there lies the problem. Everyone's sheltered these days. (Now until we're 26). I haven't re-read this thing or proofread it, so if it sounds ridiculous, I apologize. But let's face it, maybe 1 person will make it this far. And for you I say, "thanks." Until next time, keep your head up.

Day 54

I've been having pretty weird dreams lately. So I am taking this opportunity to document them to have them saved for years and years to come; well at least until blogspot goes under. Let's be honest, with the economy where it is right now, anything can go.

But that's not the point. The point is that my dreams have been pretty crazy the past few nights. Must be the drugs. Just kidding. I don't, nor have I ever, done illegal substances. For the record, this blog does not condone, nor does it encourage the use of harmful drugs.

Back to the point. Here is a story of one of the dreams I do remember quite vividly. You don't have to read it if you do not wish to, but it's for pure entertainment purposes only. So let's begin.


The sun is beginning to rise and I can see it's light pierce through my window shades. I think it's morning so I try to get enough energy to get myself out of bed. I lay there for a while, staring at the ceiling. It's summer time, so unless I have something truly important to do, I take my time in bed. Finally I bring myself to my feet and walk towards the door. I reach for the doorknob and slowly turn it. A lady is standing on the other side. A little startled, I ask who she is... No answer. I ask what she was doing there. She responds, "Hello, Brian. How have you been?" I say I'm doing just fine. She asks me if I would like to feel ten times better, as if I have just awoken from the best sleep of my life. I say, "Sure, that sounds great." She begins to tell me about this procedure that will rejuvenate my body and give me tons of energy. It will make my body look great and make me feel even better. I ask how it works. She says, "All you have to do is go back to sleep and we'll do everything for you." So I do just that. I walk back to my bed and get under the covers. I don't mind trying to fall back asleep again. She leaves and closes the door.

I am awoken by the feeling of someone pulling on my arm. They have a long needle that they stick into the side of my shoulder. It was the same lady I saw earlier. I get a little woozy but my eyes are still open. A man with a doctor's suit and one of those old-fashioned reflector's on his head walks into the room. There's dry blood around the chest of his suit, with wet blood dripping down his stomach. The lady notices I can still move so she sits by my head and puts her arm around my face, her right palm covering my mouth.

From his tray of supplies, the doctor brings out a circular saw and revs it up. I'm still trying to fight my way out of this, but the lady continues to hold me down. The doctor comes closer to me, and begins cutting into the right side of my stomach. I feel the pain but I can't scream. Organs start falling out; stomach first, and liver after. I feel myself throw up inside, but I can't do anything about it. Eventually I pass out from the sight of this awful situation.

I wake up once again for what seemed like hours later. I put my feet on the floor but still sit on the bed. I see marks all over my body and feel the ridges from the cuts. I stand up to try to walk to the door, but another lady storms in. She says, "What are you doing here?!" Confused, I say, "I don't know, but I want to get out!" She says they do this all the time. I ask, "Who?" but she ignores me. All she said to me was that if you wake up before they finish the procedure, it'll be like it never happened. I say, "I'm asleep right now?" She continues her explanation of how none of this is real, and that she has the right drug that can wake me up. I tell her to give it to me quickly so I can get out of there. She shows me the needle, and tells me that the only way to take it is for her to place the needle in the gum behind my lower teeth. By this time, I'll do anything to get out of here. So I lay on my back. She hovers over me and brings the needle out. Slowly, she lowers it into my mouth. I can feel it pierce my gums. I twitch a little. She begins to push down the needle but something goes wrong and it slips. I hear a crack. The needle breaks off. I get worried but I have a feeling that she has another syringe she could easily use to inject the drug. She sits up with her back against the wall, looking terrified. "That's it. There's nothing I could do." I ask, "What do you mean?! I can still get out right?!" We hear footsteps coming towards the door. She says, "They're coming and I don't have anything left. It's over." I get mad. "You have to get me out of here! I can't be stuck here forever!" She keeps repeating to herself in a loud whisper, "It's over."

The footsteps get louder. My adrenaline pumps faster. "Help me!" I'm practically shaking her head off her body. The footsteps reach the door. I turn around and see the doorknob turn. I get up and run towards the door. Right before I get to it, the door swings open and I jump through it. As I'm in the air going into the darkness, a giant force shoves me back and I go flying into the wall behind me.

Right when my back hit the wall, I woke up. This time in real life. It had to be real. It felt real. It was morning the next day. I made it.