Let it feel like something else, let it be a breeze, let me be like someone else...

BREEEEEEP! BREEEEEEEEP! BREEEEEEEGODDAMNITWAKEUPEEEEEEEP!

6:30 in the morning, you're wide awake and smashing an alarm clock with the bottom of your fist as you almost cry for the pain to stop. The noise warbles out and you're greeted with the most heartwarming sight known to man:



My eyes begin to twitch a little bit as I gaze longingly towards the snooze button, sitting there all proud and mighty and puffed up on its black, plastic throne, just tempting me to reset my alarm.

I punch it just for good measure and begin to prepare myself for the freezing morning stroll of the hound.



Read. Jesus hates you illiterate motherfuckers.




And there you have it. A quick rustle with a plastic bag, a short jog to the trash bin and back up to the room and then to start pulling up our slacks and buttoning our shirts, gathering swim wear for the second job, and getting the puppy ready to spend her day at Dad's, bouncing around like and idjit and keeping the cats riled up.



Some days your mornings start of well. Other days you have a jackass for a room mate and a twerp for a sister.



It looks like a clown yacked all over the interior of my car.



And of course, our morning reading material while we try to choke down as much nicotine as we can before the bell rings for our first class.
Then it's off to work. No pictures yet, maybe in the next one.

And then, if I don't have to teach swim lessons, I come home, walk the dog, and beat the shit out of the resident punching bag.



Then I end up here doing something i never feel that I do an adequate job at. maybe I'm just masochistic. Anyways, no emo crap for now. it's a good evening. I have Spaten, I have Eins, I have A full up playlist to sit and let cruise through my ears as my fingers wave over the keyboard and hope to pound out something coherent.



Have we failed yet?

You think about the strangest things at the strangest times. The past, the future, the current. A thought came to me earlier; They always say "Don't Live In The Past".

Why not?

People were magnificent and inventive in the past. In the current, they're just dead. To look at our heroes of the past and our current models for the moment. I'm just not sure anymore.

But for once it's a pretty good weeknight. My Eins is content, laying amid three torn up tug ropes, half an eaten rawhide bone, and probably some crumbs she snorted out from under the stove. The songs which inspired me to relax, to step back and take a genuine look at life, are still playing throughout the house. The beer that taught me that life is indeed too short for cheap (and shitty) beer. I am almost relaxed. I am almost as I should be.



I've lived here a year and five months now. I like to think I've remained true to who I am and what I do.

I've let a few things slip through but I'm trying to stick the gum onto the paperclip tied to the string to fish them back out.

Just have to watch for the alligators and muck men.

I've proven myself to be a hardcore mafa, able to stand one of the worst bosses I've came across so far. I've proven that I've still got a bit of spring left in my step. That I still know how to shift my weight.

That I still have the patience for small, annoying children, and that I still have the pride in my chest when I see they remember what I've taught them.



I want it to last, and I want it with meaning