( I promised myself not to do my usual year end summary....this is just, much easier )

All I'll say is that music use to tell stories and mean something. Now EVERY song has to do with "getting the girl", which makes for boring and stupid music. I wouldn't say society puts "pressure" on our culture...but it sure is making our music suck.

Tags: writer's block

Why do I keep getting e-mails that everyone else has received some kinda christmas snowflake virtual bullshit? Huh? It's none of my business what kind of virtual gifts you get. Leave me out of it!

There are two kinds of people in this world. Those who do whatever it takes...and those who just say "meh..."

When it comes to what's right...do whatever it takes.

When it comes to a life...do whatever it takes.

I'd like to think I'm a do whatever it takes kind of person.

Even in the small stuff, I know what I have to do, where I've got to be. Doesn't matter the obstacle...I'll do whatever it takes.

Never give up.

The sad thing is, despite how much you -and, this is a derogatory "you", regarding a single particular person. So, not necessarily you- but, despite how much you like to talk yourself up. Despite how often you say you're strong. Despite the stories you've told, and all the things I've heard. The sad this is, I know you're weak. You're just...weak. And it's clear to me now, nothing you do will ever change the fact that I'm stronger than you. I'm stronger than you. And I hate this feeling. I hate knowing now, finally, that I pity you. That's right. Pity. I don't want to pity you. But you're so god damn weak. You're so damn apathetic. You give in too quickly. You look for other options, options you'll never follow through on, just so you don't have to deal with what's sitting before you. Act your damn age and take some responsibility. Do, at very least, what it takes.

But I know you won't. And I don't want to feel better than you. I don't want to look down on you. But I do. It breaks my heart...but you're just...

...just, so fucking weak.

2012 is a true comedy of errors. That, and a real Man vs. Nature film.

Seriously. It almost seems like the apocalypse is attacking John Cusak, personally. When the crumbling crust of earth is a mere 2 feet away from your speeding car, and volcanoes seem to be launching volcanic torpedoes right at your winnebago...I'd say nature has a personal vendetta against you. And why? Because John Cusak makes good entertainment.

I have no other answer.

I want to make a movie where a man pisses off some sort of apocalyptic god somewhere. This god decides to destroy the world "but that man in particular", and then we get 2 hours of this guy trying to survive, with the apocalypse literally right behind him. His survival is the key to our destruction.

At least then we'd have an explanation as to why shit's falling apart directly behind this guy...

Anyway. It was a super funny movie. I was laughing the entire way through. When the vatican started falling apart, I was giggling so much, my friends next to me couldn't help but laugh too. "Take THAT, Catholics!" I whispered...
When Yellow Stone literally "bubbled up"...I nearly cried.
When the president was the ONLY ONE to wake up, and watch the tidal wave take Washington...I did kinda go "wtf??" I mean...it was a tidal wave. How'd that not wake EVERYONE up?
Though, I gotta say that Oliver Platt wasn't half as funny as he shoulda been. That man is comedy gold when he wants to be.

If that movie trimmed off about 30 minutes of the bullshit, this would've been an awesome flick. Would have.

That's my review of 2012.

I've been writing a lot, and therefore thinking a lot...so I apologize for another one of these.

But I think I've finally come to terms with what, exactly, love IS.

How could I, in the condition I'm in, possibly have a non-cynical view of what I'm about the talk about here? But trust me. Have a little faith. I'm telling you...I think I got this. And I think it's exactly why I'm alone right now.

Because a true love happens when you realize a person in your life is irreplaceable. Irreplaceable. Not a commonly used word. Especially in this dime-uh-dozen modern age. Everything is mass produced, and everyone has conformed to one 'en mass-GAP approved style/personality or another...therefore it's hard to find a person or a friend that you couldn't easily swap out with anyone else.

Irreplaceable. I feel like everyone in my life could be replaced by someone else. Well...that's not fair. That's not true. I can think of two or three people who are entirely irreplaceable. And I love them. But they're not my girlfriend...we'll leave it at that.

If someone is irreplaceable, you wouldn't be able to imagine life without them, eh? I hate it enough, what with Mikey living in another state. He's a dude that's irreplaceable...and it sucks not having him around.
If I think about how my past relationships ended...well, there was never a point in the relationship that I could imagine spending the rest of my life with them. Imagining life without them was easy. I dared dream such a thing, and such a thing is what I got. Do I regret it? Not so much...I don't think anyone I've dated so far has been "the one". And as much as I'd like it to, I doubt the next girl I date will be "the one" either.

I just hope that eventually I'll get to experience what it's like to meet a lady, and realize without a shadow of a doubt...."this one is irreplaceable."

On the matter of faith...

It's like if I were in the dark, but heard a voice off in the distance saying "it's going to be okay, come here and I'll take care for you!", given the circumstances, I'd trust that voice. I'd have faith that when I got over there, this mysterious figure in the dark wouldn't kill me, or something awful.

And I've had this conversation with christians. And they seem to think when I say that, it's a perfect metaphor for how they feel about Jesus. We're the ones in the dark, and Jesus is the voice calling out to us. But it isn't. And that's not what I'm saying. There are two parts to this metaphor.

Because, what it's actually like is this. I'm in the dark with a group of liars, cheaters, bipolar psychotics, alcoholics, drug addicts, convicts, murderers, and generally bad people. One of those people starts to say "oh, oh! I heard a voice! It said, lets go over here...there's safety over here!"

Am I going to trust them? Fuck no. Do I have faith one of them is right? No. I don't have a voice in MY head, and I'm not going to put my faith in someone who DOES.

I ended last year alone, fresh out of a long long long relationship, but with a lot of great friends, and a prospective girlfriend on the horrizon.

I'm ending this year alone. With a couple of good friends. And...my job stressing me out.

Progress? No.

Part 1.

"when life hands you lemons, make lemonade."

"what happens if life hands you lemons...and you can't find your juicer?"

"Just borrow someone else's juicer?"

"but I don't want to borrow someone else's juicer, I want to use my own. I'm stuck with all these lemons, and my juicer's a better juicer than your juicer, so why the fuck would I want to borrow your juicer?"

"it's just like, a metaphor, Derek. you're basically saying you don't want help."

"what I'm saying is I want MY juicer."

~~~~~~

Act 2.

"I've been there. It's like you're climbing this big mountain, and each time you get to the top, you fall. Your problem is that you keep trying to catch yourself. All that does is cause more strain, you never get any rest, you never learn from the fall."

"can't I just learn not to fall? Wouldn't falling constitute dying?"

"Damnit, Derek! It's a metaphor. Look at it this way, once you've hit rock bottom, you've got no where to look but up!"

"Okay, fine. What happens if I hit rock bottom, face down? All I'd be able to see is dirt."

"...I give up dude. hand me your lighter."

~~~~~~

The End

I don't know when I fell asleep last night...I never fall asleep fully dressed. I once joked that I couldn't sleep without my teeth feeling minty fresh. But there I was...fully dressed without a measure of pre-bed preparation, completely asleep. I only awoke when someone let the cat in my room, and turned off my light. Though, it wasn't enough to cajole me from the deep blur of dreams passing through my mind.

My dreams range from absurd to casual ponderings of the day before, to dreams about zombies. I use to dream about the living dead a lot as a child. They scared me. I'd wake up screaming, but it's almost as if something inside me took control. One night I awoke in a dream with a chainsaw in one hand a shotgun in the other, and said "not tonight". Ever since then, I never dream about zombies attacking me. I dream about fending them off...

..anyway...

One.

Everyone was hurt. I was outside, somewhere. There was a building, and I could see inside it very clearly. Those standing weren't worried, or in a panic. They were angry, frustrated. Those on the ground were hurt and possibly dying. And no matter how hard anyone tried, they couldn't get to me. I stood right there, but no one could get to me, let alone face me. I felt a minuscule stab of affection, a tiny drop of sincere concern. Something in me wanted to help, and set things right. And it's not that I couldn't. It's that I wouldn't. Almost as if it were the best thing for everyone if I stayed my distance.

Two.

I'm in the middle of the city. An empty city. It has been ravaged by, what I can only assume is the usual menace. The same old villains populating my dreams since I was kid. Despite it's emptiness, I'm running, searching for a safe room. Someplace to hole up until this all mows over. I find a survivor. A woman. I try to help her, but I never see her face. Just the back of her long raven black hair, flowing just above not-too-tightly fitted jeans. She runs, screaming that there's a safe room up ahead. I'm running behind her, with the sounds of clawing and moaning trailing behind us. We make it inside, and I shut the door behind me, locking it. But as I closed the door, I could swear I caught a glimpse of something moving out there.

Almost immediately after the door is closed, I can hear scratching and screaming at the door. I see nothing. Nothing more than shadows and whispers of movement. I turn to face the woman, but she's in the wall now. As if she stepped right into the wall. Still facing her back to me, her long, raven black hair stretches up the wall like roots, breaking into the ceiling tiles. I climb up them, through the roof, and even higher still. Standing on the tip of a tree, grown from the hair of a woman I never saw, coming out of a building in an empty city. I look out...I can see the shadows now. Just shadows. But nothing else...no zombies, no monsters, no people. Just the shadows.



The letter C.

I woke up. My cat Sniffles was sitting at my feet, cleaning herself...and my feet. She has a bad habit of grooming me whenever I lay down, which is half the reason I sleep under the covers even in the hot summer. Here I am, my feet sitting right beside her, freezing. The feeling of her sandpaper tongue probably the very thing that awoke me. I reached for my clock, which I had knocked face down at some point in the night. 6:32. The sky is a pale blue. That moment in the twilight that turns everything outside the exact same shade of blue. I took a smoke, a lighter, and wrapped up in my robe I went outside. Spider, the other cat, wanted outside. I sat with him on the bench out back, taking long meditated drags. He sat, staring opposite from the horizon, and clearly regretting the decision to come out into the cold. Knowing I was down to my last drag, Spider made way to the back door, giving me a glance that cried "hurry the fuck up!" We came inside, and I sat with him by the heater, him curling up in my lap for about ten minutes.

I sat there, petting him, and wondering about my dreams. I wondered a lot about what the fuck is wrong with me...passing out in my cloths, without brushing my teeth, and the light on. I've been acting peculiar, lately. I'm pushing people away from me, this I know. That much, I will admit to. I guess my words have been rather cruel over the past few days. And it's not that I want to hurt anyone...I just...want to be left alone. And yet, I realize my friends keep me grounded in reality. They keep me from pondering the things I'm pondering now. Still...I guess I felt long overdue for a deep seeded depression. I'm long overdue to feel some pain and heartache, which is very much where I'm at now. The events and circumstances that put me here seem inconsequential, which I'm having a hard time accepting. Never the less, here I sit. Wondering.

What happens when you can hear the zombies, but are totally alone? And who is this girl, who's body became the roots to me seeing the city for what it is? Filled with nothing but ghosts...