Hyper Little Thoughts

I? Do not feel good. My tummy hurts and my headache's back. Both of them are due to this fucking tooth. Argh! I'm getting ready to tie a string around it and tie it to a doorknob and rip it out myself. My mood has progressivly gotten worse throughout the evening. This is due, in part, to the huge stack of bills staring at me from my kitchen counter, my lease renewal coming today (they're increasing my rent $35, so it looks like I will be looking for a new place afterall), a bounce-back bill from my dentist, and about ten thousand things I need to have done by two weeks ago.

Man, being an adult sucks.

I don't suppose anyone has a kajillion dollars they could give me? No? Didn't think so. Ergh.

The Stranger
His hands tremble,
the palms are slick with sweat.
His hair is greasy,
coated with melted gel.
He stinks of ashes
and of hours old stale beer.
He shifts his weight
from left to right to left.
Brown eyes rolling,
cloudy and glossed over.
Cracked lips quiver,
craving one more quick sip.
His skin so pale,
even fresh snow blushes.
He wants me now.
I don’t want him, but I’ll
go home with him.
In the morning I’ll leave.
He’ll forget me,
wondering who I was.
I’ll remember
but I won’t care at all.
I’ll just wonder
who it is I’ve become.
Who am I now?

Okay, since lunabee34 requested, I'm going to be posting the stuff that I write for my creative writing class here. If you wanna read it, cool, but don't feel obligated:)

I'll post later on last night. hehe.

( The Chair )

( Rush Hour )

Just wanted to express my sadness and dissapointment over my creative writing class. It looks like it's going to be positively horrid. The professor is a heterosexist arrogant prick. He spent most of the class talking about what it means to be a "writer" like him. First of all, this is my opinion, but I don't think anyone can call themself a writer. There can be people who write; who write passionately and full-time and make their income from that, but I don't even then they can call themselves a writer. Like me for instance: I write, a lot, in fact, and it's my passion, it's what I love to do. I've been pretty successful at it too, fanfiction aside. I've had four different pieces professionally published. But I still don't think of myself as a writer. I'm just a guy that writes. Anyway, that aside, he was just very insistant on how exactly one is a writer. And that dissapoints me.

As for the class, we can chose to emphasize either poetry or short stories, and whichever we put our emphasis on will be how we're graded. We are not allowed to write any of the following: no characters are allowed to be between the ages of 13 and 30; we cannot write horror, science fiction, mystery, or supernatural fiction of any type; we may not write characters based on personal experience.

Now, I get that Creative Writing is more or less being able to write about something within a set of rules or prompts. Someone told me once that creativity is being able to use what you're given and only what you're given to the best of your ability. So, I can understand all of this. But my question is this: what if these things that he doesn't allow is what and how I, as a person who writes, want to write and what I am good at writing? What if this is what piques my interest and is what I am passionate about?

I can't drop the class, so I'm stuck with it. Maybe it'll get better, and I'm going to try and keep my chin up about it, but I do have to say I'm saddened and dissapointed by both the professor's attitude as well as how he conducts his class.

What is it about gay men that make them hate each other so much?

Long LONG story short: there was this older gentleman that was after me tonight; I wound up telling him that I have a boyfriend (which is about 1/3 truth). He was a really sweet guy but I just wasn't interested. Anyway, we all had way too much to drink, but this guy had so much to drink that his legs gave out - as in, he couldn't walk at all. So I, along with James (that's a whole nother post in and of itself), escorted him out the door and helped him into a cab. Meanwhile, all of these hanus mean drunken assholes were taking pictures of it! As in "and this is what happens at Charlie's...etc".

How is this okay? How is this acceptable? First of all, these are all guys that I know from the bars that I frequent or from working on the strip, and whatever. Second of all, they don't know this man who is in need of assistance. Third of all, who gives anyone the right to make fun of someone like that? That is just not acceptable. That is not humane. That is just not cool.

Luckily, I had enough courage (granted, it was false courage - you do the math) and the anger to stand up and say something. Sadly enough, under normal sober conditions I would have just let it pass for fear of causing conflict or getting into a confrontation. But tonight, I actually did something. I started yelling at these guys about how this is not OKAY and that some day, SOME DAY, they would be old too and need help, and how would they feel if someone was snapping pictures at them in their time of need. Granted, I was much more heated and much snottier when talking to them, but that really really upset me. These words don't give merit to how angry I was at these guys. And, what I said probably will get me ostrasized from some of the bars that they work at, but I really and truly feel better knowing that maybe, just maybe, I helped a little bit. Maybe something I said go through to one of those jerks. And even if it didn't - I feel better for standing up for not only this guy, for myself, but also for anyone who's ever been in a similar situation.

I just don't understand how anyone - no matter how drunk or high or whatever they are - can excuse that kind of behavior. How can you look at those pictures and still laugh; knowing that this person was in need of help. How can you look yourself in the mirror knowing that you laughed at someone who was in pain and who needed help? I just don't get it. But I'm damn glad I was able to at least stick up for him.

So far, my Spring Break is kicking ASS. I went out Sunday night - first to Arben's party, where I met a guy named Bryce. We wound up going to Charlies and dancing till they closed, and went to IHOP for breakfast and talked for two hours. It was such an amazing conversation. Turns out that he's a cancer survivor, and his whole outlook on life was just so deep and meaningful, I just sat there in awe while he was telling me about his experiences. He said he's crazy about me. Hopefully that means I'll see him again.

Last night, work was inSANE. There was a straight boy stripped down to his skivies, all kinds of domestic drama between a couple that was there, mucho gossip shared, and I found out that apparently I have made a name for myself here on the strip because people are talking about me. Irregardless of the fact that some of it was just mean gossip, kinda cool to me - people know who I am now. I'm not just another face in the crowd anymore. Made a niche for myself here:)

Then me and Nando shot the shit after work over a couple of cocktails and went out to make last call at Charlies. Eric got us back for all the Margarita Nights we got him Sloppy at. He was freepouring, and the shots were as big as cocktails. Didn't get out of bed until an hour ago, and don't have to go anywhere until work tonight. For the moment, life is good.

Plans for today include: working on Kate's SPSS stuff, watching a movie, and getting this dump cleaned up. By then it'll be time for work. I'll go to work, and go out afterwords. Good times.

I have studied and read till I just can't study or read anymore. My brain is mush! Do you hear that professors! You have mushed my brain. Biznitches. Yes, I did just say that. I'm hopped up on Caribou Coffee and internet porn several (yes several!) chocolate bars. That, and I haven't been sleeping much lately. You do the math. Since I have finished studying, I am contemplating going to get a drink. But that would be a bad idea, considering that a)my first final is at 8:45 tomorrow morning, and b)I requested the night off to study.

But honestly - it actually feels kind of good to have spent the day studying. It's the first time in a long time that I've felt like a student. Queer, that is. I haven't actually studied for a test since I was a freshman. Hmm. Ah well. Okay, I'm outta hear. The library is started to give me the creeps - and not in that wholesome "there's a hellmouth under it" kind of way.

First things first - I have a ton of comments and emails from you guys, and I *swear* I will get to them at some point. Don't think I hate you or am blowing you off. I'm in the red zone, here, so I don't have a whole lot of extra time to devote to anything that isn't school/RL related. If it makes you feel any better, I have emails from family that I haven't even opened yet.

( Work )

( School )

( Romance )

( Fic )

( Etc. )

I think that covers all of the bases. As you can probably tell, everything here at Chez Brad has been more than a little hectic. I'm trying to just take it one day at a time, but so far...ugh. I'm looking forward to a few days off.

And as always, I miss you guys! Anything big been going on? Let me know about it. I really do care!

No, I am not dead. Although after this weekend, I wish I were.

Ugh.

The long short of it: work sucked, spent too much money, drank too much, lost my cell phone. again.

Hmm...I guess I am a 21 year old. Go figure.

Hope all is well.

*tap tap* Not sure if this thing is on, anymore.

I still have no internet access at my apartment, so I'm not able to be online, like, ever. And I feel bad because I miss everyone! *shoutout to lunabee34*.

The quickest summary is that everything really sucks right now. There's drama at work, BS at school, bad things happening with the family, and I've pretty much had at least one panic attack every day for the past few days. I think I'm losing my mind.

It'll get better. I'm just under a LOT LOT LOT of stress, and it would really help me if people would stop asking me what I'm going to do when I graduate, and it would also really help if people would stop telling me I'm getting a useless degree. It would also help if people would stop. Just stop.

God it's no wonder I've turned into a quasi-alkie. Christ, it's a suprise the heart attacks haven't started yet.

Anyway, hope everyone is doing well, and I hope that someday I'll be able to actually talk to you again.