fireflies..

This post is being co-brought to you by the guy at the urinal Wednesday who gave me the update on his drain problems at home, Bulgarian shot-putters, and the "autosave" feature on Blogger that took last night off, causing me to somehow lose 4 hours of writing..

*in previous posts, I've kinda half-assed the punctuation and capitalization of some words. I guess when I started blogging in 2008, this was going to be something to write a few quick thoughts and be on my way. I've always kept the sloppy theme. Since it's progressed into stories, paragraphs, etc. I feel like I should prove that I can write like an adult and capitalize words when necessary. Hope that's cool. As always, feel free to comment. Either through here, Facebook, text, carrier pigeon, whatever.. Here we go, Take 2..

Almost sent my sister a ";)" instead of a ":)" in an email yesterday. Luckily I caught it or we would have had to move to Kentucky and get married..

Unless I'm going to a wedding, I use my dryer as an iron..

I'd tongue-kiss a homeless woman before I'd buy a cell phone from a mall kiosk..

My favorite part of going to the beach is when I decide that it looks like it might rain and I lay on the couch instead..

Men should need a prescription to wear white jeans..

I think most of us have the whole "your/you're" thing nailed down by now.  If you can tell me the difference between "affect" and "effect", I might marry you immediately.  If you can cook me pancakes.

Big ups to the three-year-old girl pushing her baby brother in a stroller while her mom walked along side them, texting.  Presumably with her next baby daddy.  Keep pumping those kids out, horrible mothers..

Nice try, grapes with seeds in them..

I could watch an attractive girl dance around a room and be content.  Trust me, I've done it.

"I've got this vision of a girl in white, made my decision that it's you alright." - Marc Cohn

For me, folding laundry consists of 17% folding and 83% dancing in my underwear or shadow-boxing to my iPod.  Still single, if you're curious..

If anyone wants a half-full bottle of hot water, I have about 300 in the back of my car..

My favorite part of wedding receptions is deciding that I'll probably never see the bride and groom again and going back to take advantage of the open bar..

I'd punt a hibernating koala bear into a ceiling fan for the Full House DVD box set..

Love is friendship set on fire.

I've had $15 in my checking account since Sunday.  That's just funny by itself..

Overheard: "I'm gonna go downtown, do some Jag Bombs and try to have unprotected sex with any slut that looks my way."  That's a lot of bad ideas in one sentence.  I've never seen the recipe for disaster, but I'm willing to bet three of the ingredients are Jag Bombs, unprotected sex and sluts.. You know the rule though, anytime you can black out and risk becoming a father and/or STD owner while still in college, you have to do it..

Of the few girls who have felt my butt, it's gotten overwhelmingly positive reviews in the surveys I've mailed them afterwards.  No doubt it's from biking into town every summer afternoon to rent WWF VHS tapes when I was little. I knew my obsession with Hulk Hogan would pay off in some way..

Speaking of wrestling, here is a tag team match between my twin sister and I (3-years-old) and my Dad, circa 1986.  From the looks of it in this shot, I hit him in the forehead with a steel folding chair, and while I mugged for the fans/distracted the referee, she delivered the splash from the top rope.  Notice the brand new HD television in the background.

Regret is one of the worst human emotions. Whether it's regret over doing something, or missing the chance at something, it's hard to make regret disappear.

Never underestimate the power of a perfectly-timed text message..

Sometimes, my favorite thing in the world to do is lay in my bed, listen to Pandora and find incredible new music.  Other times, I lay in bed and think.  And think.  And think.. I prefer doing the first one..

Received a great compliment  yesterday: "You are a good person without pretending or trying too hard."  Thanks.  You have porcelain face skin.

I hate when people bitch about minor things that go wrong in their life on a daily basis. Very recently, a high school classmate of mine lost his father to cancer. Another classmate had a mother diagnosed with cancer. A coworker has missed work for months because of breast cancer, and days before her return, she broke her arm in a fall, delaying her return. A close friend of mine recently found out that her and her husband's only way to have a baby is through artificial insemination, which is costly and not always effective. These are the things that it's understandable to get upset about. To cry about. To need to vent about. You got stuck behind a slow car on your way to work today? Leave earlier, shit happens. If things like that make you miserable, I'd hate to see you react to something that's actually life-changing..

On April 17, 2012 at 4:58 p.m., I received a text from a female friend. Here is what ensued:

Her: Can you send me a picture of your abs? We are comparing men..

Me: (send two pictures, no questions asked.  posted below).

Her: You're going to make a good husband. Not even a question as to why haha.

Me: Well there's my next Facebook quote, haha.. I'm just average.

Her: That's not average. Have you seen most of the men out there? They're all fat-bellied, or rapists.

Me: But they're confident. What place did I take?

Her: It's still in progress. So far you're second, but you're getting beat by someone comparable to Adam Levine. He's got a trail of muscle down to his you-know-what.

Her: P.S. I like your Vikings blanket ;)

Me: I'm in second?? Out of how many? Two? :)

Her: About six or so. Not all entries are in yet..

2 out of 6, not bad. Here's what I entered into the "contest":

With the Vikings first preseason game of the year being tonight, I'll share one of my OCD/superstition qualities from when I was younger.  Even if you're not a football fan or follower of the Vikings, you've heard of Randy Moss.  He was a rookie in 1998 when the Vikings went 15-1, shit the bed in the NFC Championship Game and caused me to cry in my best friends bedroom.  When I lived with my parents, I had two Randy Moss posters on my bedroom wall.  In one, he wore a purple jersey, and in the other he wore a white jersey.  My "routine" before the game would be to touch the purple jersey poster if the Vikings were playing at home, and touch the white jersey poster if they were playing on the road.  In pro football, it's customary for teams to wear dark jerseys at home and light jerseys on the road, so don't act like I'm completely crazy here.  This did create some problems though when we played at Dallas or at Washington because those idiots wear white at home, for whatever reason.  So do I touch the purple jersey poster because that's what color we're wearing, or do I touch the white jersey poster because we're playing on the road?  From about 2001-2005, it really didn't matter, because we had things called "Brian Russell", "Denard Walker" and "Ralph Brown" playing defensive back for us.  No matter how many posters I touched, we were going to get our asses kicked.  I've grown out of the poster phase.  Now my game day ritual consists only of carrying my stuffed Vikings football, wearing my Vikings pajama pants if it's cold, and receiving text messages from my brother, saying our safeties "couldn't tackle their way out of a wet paper bag", sprinkled with expletives.  It's okay though, he probably sang in church earlier that morning, he's allowed..

A couple weekends ago was Firefest, a country music concert in my small hometown that happens every July.  In the past, artists like Luke Bryan, Joe Nichols, Trace Adkins, Little Big Town and Emerson Drive have performed at it.  This year Dierks Bentley was the headliner.  Not bad for a town of 3,500 or whatever it is now.  Anyway, before the concert, my sister and I head to my buddy's parents place, where they're all drinking and playing yard games.  We only stay there for a short time, only in part because everyone else there looks like models and we both feel self-conscious.  After eating at the local pizza joint, we headed to the concert.  Most of my time during the first few bands was spent people watching, wondering how a guy that looked like that could be with a girl that looked like that, and drinking something called "Cream Ale."  It's become tradition that someone will talk to me about my blog or Facebook posts at Firefest, and this year was no different.  A high school classmate tapped me on the shoulder and said, "your Facebook posts are hilarious.  The first thing I do when I get home from work is check to see if you wrote anything."  I wasn't even aware she knew I was alive.  So it's cool hearing things like that, I like being entertaining.  Some people probably think I post too much (Nik), and other people tell me that my posts make their day.  If I post too much for your liking, use the "hide from news feed" feature and you don't have to deal with it.  I won't be offended.  I'm not for everyone.  If I see something that I have an opinion on, I tend to share it.  I like to keep people in the loop.  It's who I am. Anyway, eventually I got lubed up enough to start making sarcastic comments to strangers and shake my caboose.  There was a thunderstorm that passed close by before Dierks was set to take the stage, and they actually suspended the concert for a period of time because of the lightning.  After a bit, the storm is far enough away to start the concert back up, and at this point there is a light rain falling.  It was super cool because it was right at dusk with lightning in the distance, and a country music superstar singing to 8,000 people in the middle of a cornfield.  The rain was hard enough to cool you off, but not so hard that it was annoying.  I rarely give myself time to decompress and completely clear my head, so this was one of my favorite nights in recent memory.  I just enjoyed the moment, all senses on overload.  I try to think back to when rain has acted that way.  Staying that light for that long.  I can't remember a time that it has.  Any harder and people would have been miserable, it was just perfect.  Here's a picture of that night from Dierks website:

 

 

I'm not going to get too deep into my anxiety and depression issues, mainly because if you've read my blog for any amount of time, you know the drill.  But around last November, I was feeling good enough to go off my medication (with my doctor's approval and schedule) so I wanted to try.  I've always wanted to get to the point where I wouldn't need medication to help me.  I thought I was there.  I was wrong.  By around Christmas, I was working long hours and not giving myself any time to relax or take care of myself.  Add that to the stress of the holidays and knowing that I wasn't getting any help from medication, and I started snowballing in a bad way.  By February, I was a mess.  I would wake up and dread how I would feel by midday.  I faked my way through work daily (I have never called in sick because of my anxiety).  I began to get headaches and chest pains on a daily basis.  As a hypochondriac, I thought the worst.  Something had to be incredibly wrong with my brain or my heart, or both.  I couldn't sit still even while watching TV.  I needed to move around, be doing something.  I started to get very depressed; how can you feel that uncomfortable in your own skin and not be depressed on some level?  I worried about everything: my health, money, how people perceived me, the future.  I wondered if I would feel that way for the rest of my life.  I wondered how any girl would like me if I couldn't like myself.  I saw most people my age in long-term relationships or married, buying houses, having babies, having great jobs.  I just felt so behind everyone.  In February, I remember one specific night.  I went to a high school basketball game in my hometown, only because it was the last home game for my coach, who was retiring after 43 years of coaching in the same school.  I went alone, but ended up meeting the two guys I shared an apartment with as a freshman in college.  I'm close with both of them, and actually was a groomsman in the wedding of the one who is married.  But the entire night, I barely said a word to them.  I felt bad, the friend who is married had just had a baby a couple months earlier.  I should have asked how everything was going, if he was sleeping, if he was going crazy yet.  But I couldn't.   I was dizzy, I was sweating, my mind was racing with thoughts.  I could barely pay attention to the game, I was that uncomfortable.  My roommate was doing radio for the game, and afterwards, I suggested we go to the local bar.  In a rare event for me, I wanted to drink the anxiety away.  One of my "rules" through all of the pain and suffering is/was to not self-medicate with alcohol, because that can lead down another dark path.  So, if I'm feeling overly-anxious, I don't drink.  But that night I had to, I was so uncomfortable.  It's hard to understand if you haven't been through it.  In my darkest times, I've never contemplated suicide, but there were many times that I wished I weren't alive.  I know that will be hard to read for some people that are close to me, but it's the truth.  Because of them, though, I know I have what I need to get me through it.  My family and a few close friends have been amazing with their support.  Nik especially.  Love that girl, always there.  I can't overstate how real it is though.  It's not "just in their head."  You can't tell them to "relax."  It's an addiction to negative thinking.  It took me 23 years of thinking negatively for it to manifest itself in physical symptoms of anxiety.  It's not going to be fixed overnight.  But I've gone back on medication, and I've seen a therapist, and I'm feeling much better.  Not "cured", by any means, but good enough to function and enjoy life on some level.  It feels good to not have to fake smiles all the time, and it will only get better..

I wanted to write about my mom's stay in the hospital last year and how it affected me, but it's late and I kind of have a "main event" topic that I want to write.  To sum it up, she had a "COPD exacerbation" as a result of smoking for 35 years.  As a mama's boy, and I say that proudly, it killed me to see her in that vulnerable way, struggling to breathe.  But she only did it to herself.  As kids, my sister and I would beg her to stop, and she never did, until she was diagnosed with emphysema and "had to".  For me, it felt like she was choosing cigarettes over us.  Which is why I despise smoking.  The main reason is because the people who love you want to spend as much time with you as they can, and you are willingly taking years off your life.  I try not to harp on people about it, I just wish they would know what kind of things it can do to them, and the effect it has on their loved ones.

When I like a girl, no other girl exists.  Sure, I notice attractive girls, but I'm always thinking back to the "one".  I get one girl in my head and she stays there until she gives me a reason for her not to be there.  I think about her when I wake up.  I think about her when I fall asleep.  Songs remind me about her.  Certain situations remind me of her.  I constantly think of things to do or say to make her happy, and let her know how I feel about her.  A few examples of this: I liked a girl that went to school in Ohio for a while, and I spent a day finding songs that I thought she would like, burned her 5 cd's and mailed them to her.  I gave that same girl a pair of Twins sweatpants for Christmas.  I never dated her, I only wanted to.  Another example, another girl: at one point, she had mentioned what her favorite ice cream at Cold Stone was.  I remembered it (it was elaborate, not like "vanilla with Oreos") and brought it to her one night that I hung out with her.  Again, I never dated her, only hung out with her with the possibility of dating in the future.  Another example with another girl: she would get severe migraines that pretty much would ruin her days.  I have a friend who orders essential oils and uses them for a number of things, so I asked her if anything would help with migraines.  My friend was able to get me a bottle of peppermint oil that is supposed to help with headaches and migraines, and I gave it to the girl I liked.  Same girl: I was invited to her place one night to watch movies, and it was our first time hanging out alone together.  I'm a nervous person as is, and since I really liked her, I wanted it to go well.  But on this night, she was nervous too.  I have a band on my wrist that used to be one of those magnet things that "balance your ions" or whatever, I just think they look cool.  Well, it broke, so now it's just a rubber band, essentially.  Over the course of the night, I would nervously fidget with and tug at it.  It got to the point where she took it from me, and said I couldn't get it back until I left.  But she started to play with it too, and I called her out on it.  Trying to be cute, and to get her something that made her think back to that night, and to think about me, I ordered her the same wristband that I had when I got home that night.  Again, she and I never dated.  That's the kind of things I do.  Hell, I had my mom make a birthday quilt for the girl I lost my virginity to a month after I met her. (Sorry Nik, I know this was supposed to be "sister-friendly", but I lost my virginity a while back.  We never got congratulatory drinks).  Maybe it's overkill or unattractive.  Or maybe that's how it should be? 

I have a few theories as to why I am the way I am with girls.  Maybe it's because I've been burned so often that I feel like I need to go above and beyond to keep them around.  Maybe it's because my "standards" are so "high" that I think I need to do these things to be on the same level as her.  "Look at her.  Look at me.  What about me could she possibly be attracted to, besides my incredible ass?"  Or maybe it's just because I'm a nice guy, and I see the bullshit that most girls have to wade through to get to us.  I see relationships that people stay in because it's "comfortable" and "easy".  To me, that's not enough.  That's too bland.  Yes, I want to be comfortable with a girl.  Yes, I want it to be easy to talk to her and to be around her.  But I want there to be days and nights where she feels like the luckiest girl on the planet to be with me.  I want her to brag to her friends about what I did.   I want her to think about me when she wakes up, falls asleep, hears a song.. But a lot of girls accept less than this.  And that kills me.  I know everyone has heard the line that girls "date the assholes but marry the nice guys" or whatever.  I hate that.  I've had girls from my past come back to me and apologize about how they treated me, or how things ended.  But just because I'm a "nice guy", doesn't mean I'll always be here to shower you with compliments and make you feel good, only so you can go back to the idiots and start the whole cycle over again.  I gave a birthday card to Virginity Stealer Girl along with the quilt (big day for her), in which I wrote some nice stuff, I guess.  Not too long ago, she told me that she still has this card, still reads it, and it still makes her smile.  But you know what?  For years, that card was in a dresser next to the bed where she slept beside douchebag after asshole after Packers fan (hey, why not?)  Yes, I'm a nice guy.  That doesn't mean you can act like my feelings don't matter.  Yes, I want you to be happy.  But I want to be happy too, and being tossed aside time after time kills me.  Maybe I'm too trusting.  I've been misled too many times with the standard "you're the perfect guy" or "you're so sweet", only to have her start texting my roommate in the next room, or completely change personalities overnight without explanation.  That's hard to deal with for anyone, but for someone who thinks in "worst-case scenarios", it's even worse.  What did I do wrong?  What's wrong with me?  How can she change her mind that much?  I hate that.  Be honest.  If you like me, like me.  If you don't, don't.  I hate mind games.  I want to know what they're thinking and why.  I'm overly-analytical, there's no doubt.  But I feel like the more I know about her, the more I can make her happy.  Thinking back, I can remember most of the important things about the girls in my past.  Birthdays, favorite songs, outfits they wore, their families.. I can remember very few girls who showed a genuine interest in my life, my family, things that I like.  Maybe those should have been red flags but when you like someone, it's harder to see the negative things about them.

I just want love. I want someone to tell me they love me.  I've never heard that, except from my family and my roommate after a few rounds of "Drinking Cops".  I want that feeling.  That "no matter what, we're together and that's all we need" feeling.  That's why I try so hard, that's why I put in the effort to show that I care, to go a little above and beyond.  That's why I hate when girls accept less than what they deserve.  You can be a priority to someone.  You don't have to be insulted, or ignored, or pushed aside.  I've seen all these guys who have been in love with a bunch of girls, and couldn't treat any of them right.  I've been in love zero times because I want to do it right and make it unbelievable.  It's hard to put into words.  I'm not saying every relationship will be like this.  I'm not saying I won't fail at love once, or twice, or a dozen times.  I'm certainly not saying I have no faults.  If you've read this blog for any amount of time, you know I have insecurities.  I get moody.  I need to be alone sometimes.  I get jealous.  Not because I don't trust you; I don't trust guys.  I've had "close friends" text girls that they knew I liked.  On my birthday.  While they had a girlfriend.  I want to be different.  I know I'm insecure, but there are two things that I'm confident in:  1. I'm good at expressing my emotions through writing, and 2. I'm a damn good person.  I might get on your nerves.  I might try to be cute too often and in the wrong situations.  It's to see you smile.  It's to brighten your day.  It's to let you know you're appreciated, cared for, thought about, and that you matter..  You'll know where you stand with me.  We'll settle arguments like adults, without screaming.  We'll learn about each others likes and dislikes, quirks, habits, flaws, secrets.. We'll have each others back, trust each other, and you'll never be more loved.  Maybe that's "boring".  I think it's incredible.  And I think it's worth waiting for.