(no subject)
love forgets.
I haven't written anything here in a long time. I haven't written at all really. Mostly just been stroking my creativity shaft with way too much sci-fi. There's now an entire bookshelf in my room devoted to it. But that's just fine. I've decided if there's any facet of literature my name can stick to it's imagining the future. Regarding my present life, since i last put anything down onto LJ, I have, to some degree, put all the pieces together. I've moved back to the Northshore, become a bartender, and found a relationship I can be a part of. She's okay with being a part of it as well.
Bartending is strange. The regulars are regular, I can't piss them off. Everybody else sucks. Sometimes I think I keep this job because i'm a beer snob and/or Mike's my boss. Last week, I LITERALLY poured $4,192 dollars of don julio tequilla down the drain (unfortunate mistake) and it was somehow okay. It was one of those 'oh shucks' fuck-up's, but as soon as i realized what had happened I felt like everything in my chest fell down in to my feet.
Living at home is... beyond me. I'm ashamed to admit to people that I live here. Sure, Jen and I are only house-sitting. My parents live a time zone away. But that doesn't, change the fact that I moved home after college. No impressive career like dad always drilled into me, not even a hint of a masters. But regardless of my own disappointment, when we talk I feel loved.
Jen and I are making plans. I want to have children and I know she does too. I'm just scared neither of us is ready, nor has the means to care responsibly. I often wonder if my father fell into this, or whether he had a roadmap laid out by his own father's fears. Mom wants to be grandmother, this I know.
Each of these half-assed paragraphs could have a chapter added to them, but tonight, this is all I can manage. I love you LJ, I'll keep you up to date.
I haven't written anything here in a long time. I haven't written at all really. Mostly just been stroking my creativity shaft with way too much sci-fi. There's now an entire bookshelf in my room devoted to it. But that's just fine. I've decided if there's any facet of literature my name can stick to it's imagining the future. Regarding my present life, since i last put anything down onto LJ, I have, to some degree, put all the pieces together. I've moved back to the Northshore, become a bartender, and found a relationship I can be a part of. She's okay with being a part of it as well.
Bartending is strange. The regulars are regular, I can't piss them off. Everybody else sucks. Sometimes I think I keep this job because i'm a beer snob and/or Mike's my boss. Last week, I LITERALLY poured $4,192 dollars of don julio tequilla down the drain (unfortunate mistake) and it was somehow okay. It was one of those 'oh shucks' fuck-up's, but as soon as i realized what had happened I felt like everything in my chest fell down in to my feet.
Living at home is... beyond me. I'm ashamed to admit to people that I live here. Sure, Jen and I are only house-sitting. My parents live a time zone away. But that doesn't, change the fact that I moved home after college. No impressive career like dad always drilled into me, not even a hint of a masters. But regardless of my own disappointment, when we talk I feel loved.
Jen and I are making plans. I want to have children and I know she does too. I'm just scared neither of us is ready, nor has the means to care responsibly. I often wonder if my father fell into this, or whether he had a roadmap laid out by his own father's fears. Mom wants to be grandmother, this I know.
Each of these half-assed paragraphs could have a chapter added to them, but tonight, this is all I can manage. I love you LJ, I'll keep you up to date.