I still have a LiveJournal?
A lull in work turned into an attempt to find an old Photobucket account containing pictures of Germany, which turned into an excuse to reminisce about by early 20s via LiveJournal. Sure. What else am I going to do at 3 am (besides, y'know, work)?
I feel like I spent much of my early 20s (we're talking, right when I started working at TSA) spinning my wheels and lacking perspective/experience. I let life happen to me, instead of directing where I wanted life to go. I probably am no different now, although the combination of real jobs, grad school, fatherhood, and marriage have all set about subtle personal changes. For one, I think I'm over the near-constant procrastination I used to read about circa 2004-2006 (although this might just be because I don't have school to worry about). I also think I care less about my day-to-day experiences than before. Maybe it's because Facebook and Twitter are much worse for emotional exploration than an LJ; maybe I'm just getting old and stopped giving a shit.
I'm glad this account still exists, since it serves as a bit of a time capsule for me. Hell if I'd know what I was feeling 10 years ago otherwise! Let's see if I still have it in me to ruminate on current events.
Right now, I have 11 (!!!) people at my house. This number includes (sums will not add up to 11 due to category overlaps):
Theft is a problem. After coming back from seeing my dad (who just came back from driving around Central Europe), I found an empty bottle that once housed the homemade BBQ sause I was saving. Something about the callousness of not asking me to use it, my resignation that it was probably wasted, and the shittiness of not being able to taste my creation or see how everybody else enjoyed it pissed me off like a motherfucker.
Yesterday, we had a birthday party at Boomtown for Meece (who just turned 6). I think the best quotation I've heard on the subject involves the best thing about a kid birthday party: the fact that it's 364 days until the next one. We had some neighbor kids there (Makayla, Katie, Trevor), who all seemed pretty stoked to go there for the first time, until Trevor kept hitting me up for money to attempt stupid claw games. I sort of melted down in front of them as Christina was urging me loan out my car to her mom/Kaitlyn so that we could go directly to my dad's.
Theft. That's what it feels like to be expected to loan out my car, for which I worked my ass off to pay, so that an ungrateful mother-in-law or somebody I've never driven with can take my car and use my gas. Never mind that Eileen had been drinking and that I had yelled at her not to drive my car after drinking a week before (she had taken my car to drop Kaitlyn at a bar for a bartending gig and taken a shot/had a few beers). Christina threw a fit because her car is more expensive and isn't paid off, never mind the fact that she actually trusts the two of them driving and didn't have to loan her car out and be stranded for 5 fucking months.
Man, this is coming off as petty, which I think is what an LJ is for.
Future me: what are you interested in, regarding me now? For purely positional purposes (so I can figure out what else was going on in my life at this point):
"Meece, that's probably good."
He keeps filling it.
"Meece, Meece, you're overflowing! That's enough!"
Water's spilling all over the edges of the cup and dribbling down the front of the fridge. Meece pulls the cup to him and spills half of the cup all over his arm and onto the fucking floor. Then, Meece starts to fill the cup up more.
"What are you doing? You have enough water!"
Meece takes the cup at an angle and clumsily sets it atop the kitchen counter, while managing to spill another third of the cup in an arc around his body. I sigh. Dumb, clumsy fucking child.
I feel like I spent much of my early 20s (we're talking, right when I started working at TSA) spinning my wheels and lacking perspective/experience. I let life happen to me, instead of directing where I wanted life to go. I probably am no different now, although the combination of real jobs, grad school, fatherhood, and marriage have all set about subtle personal changes. For one, I think I'm over the near-constant procrastination I used to read about circa 2004-2006 (although this might just be because I don't have school to worry about). I also think I care less about my day-to-day experiences than before. Maybe it's because Facebook and Twitter are much worse for emotional exploration than an LJ; maybe I'm just getting old and stopped giving a shit.
I'm glad this account still exists, since it serves as a bit of a time capsule for me. Hell if I'd know what I was feeling 10 years ago otherwise! Let's see if I still have it in me to ruminate on current events.
Right now, I have 11 (!!!) people at my house. This number includes (sums will not add up to 11 due to category overlaps):
- 5 actual visitors (Kim + kids, Kaitlyn's mom Keri, and Tyler's great-aunt Kerry (sp?).
- 3 refugees (Eileen, Kaitlyn + Summer)
- 3 actual residents (Me, Christina, Mira)
- 2 children with predilections towards yelling at me (I have dubbed them "Screeching Beauty" and "President Omama")
Theft is a problem. After coming back from seeing my dad (who just came back from driving around Central Europe), I found an empty bottle that once housed the homemade BBQ sause I was saving. Something about the callousness of not asking me to use it, my resignation that it was probably wasted, and the shittiness of not being able to taste my creation or see how everybody else enjoyed it pissed me off like a motherfucker.
Yesterday, we had a birthday party at Boomtown for Meece (who just turned 6). I think the best quotation I've heard on the subject involves the best thing about a kid birthday party: the fact that it's 364 days until the next one. We had some neighbor kids there (Makayla, Katie, Trevor), who all seemed pretty stoked to go there for the first time, until Trevor kept hitting me up for money to attempt stupid claw games. I sort of melted down in front of them as Christina was urging me loan out my car to her mom/Kaitlyn so that we could go directly to my dad's.
Theft. That's what it feels like to be expected to loan out my car, for which I worked my ass off to pay, so that an ungrateful mother-in-law or somebody I've never driven with can take my car and use my gas. Never mind that Eileen had been drinking and that I had yelled at her not to drive my car after drinking a week before (she had taken my car to drop Kaitlyn at a bar for a bartending gig and taken a shot/had a few beers). Christina threw a fit because her car is more expensive and isn't paid off, never mind the fact that she actually trusts the two of them driving and didn't have to loan her car out and be stranded for 5 fucking months.
Man, this is coming off as petty, which I think is what an LJ is for.
Future me: what are you interested in, regarding me now? For purely positional purposes (so I can figure out what else was going on in my life at this point):
- Work's pretty meh. I'm good at editing but the pay is not wonderful and people are occasionally fired in really shitty ways (via e-mail, for example). But, nobody wants to hire me. i was too overqualified to be a legal assistant at Brandt's firm, for example.
- I still don't have a clearly defined path and still sort of just let life happen to me, although I at least have what I think is a decent awareness of my flaws and features.
- Mira's 5. She's currently being kind of an ass to 2-year-old summer and to Meece (to be fair, Meece probably deserves it. Most of his reactions to things are callous enough that I want to smack the shit out of him most days.)
"Meece, that's probably good."
He keeps filling it.
"Meece, Meece, you're overflowing! That's enough!"
Water's spilling all over the edges of the cup and dribbling down the front of the fridge. Meece pulls the cup to him and spills half of the cup all over his arm and onto the fucking floor. Then, Meece starts to fill the cup up more.
"What are you doing? You have enough water!"
Meece takes the cup at an angle and clumsily sets it atop the kitchen counter, while managing to spill another third of the cup in an arc around his body. I sigh. Dumb, clumsy fucking child.