Summer Dies Hard...

They call it "Der Bahn."

Loosely, and very half-assededly translated from my faint memory of German classes that I took fifteen years ago, "Der Bahn" means "The Road." Built in 1989 as part of Schlitterbahn New Braunfels' 10 year anniversary celebration, this hundred+ foot ride provides a fast downhill ride as you can race two other people to the bottom.

It's fast, it's a classic and it's easily my favourite ride in the park.

It's been a month since I last had the opportunity to ride Der Bahn and I've got the shakes worse than ever. I miss the heat mixed in with the brisk coolness of the water cascading over me as I hydroplane speedily down the steep track to the bottom.

I miss the rush of getting to the bottom of the ride and then hiking back to the top again. It is fairly possible that I am addicted to it, but I don't really care.

I've always hated the end of Summer. Having to put the inner tube away for the Winter just doesn't set with me, especially here in Central Tejas where Winter is a hilarious joke for Northerners to cluck their tongues at us for shutting down the state infrastructure because of a few snowflakes.

It's a little over 6 months from now when it'll all will really start coming back, so I have to get used to letting that part of me go into hibernation. With the exception of Halloween and St. Patrick's day, I'd be content to sleep the whole Winter away if I could.

I remember when I was a kid when I actually looked forward to Winter. The cold, the holidays, the food, I loved 'em all. Not so much anymore.

Sucks that it happens this way. You keep thinking that you're doing alright if you're around those who care about you and love you, but what do you do if still feel like shit about things?

Sure, you can feel lucky that you have people who love and care for you, but you have to truly understand the mindset of a depressive in order to understand what the hell they are saying. I get down this time of year because I hate it. I hate the holiday shopping rush, I hate how people treat each other this time of year (those who start acting like assholes/psychotic bitches over stupid shit and take it out on innocent bystanders), I hate the same fucking carols being sung apathetically.

I hate how tired and exhausted I feel every day from October to December from pulling late shifts, stressing out, etc. at work. I hate New Years now because it's bullshit. People making bullshit resolutions they'll never keep, feeling like they could "start fresh" simply because the year moved up one on life's odometer.

Just an excuse to drink and making fuck with your significant other or a perfect stranger if that is to your liking. Next day, you wake up to the same problems you had the day before. Nothing really changes.

Don't even get me started on Valentine's Day, a day I hate with the passion of the Christ. Everyone I've "celebrated" in recent years has been a disaster or a disappointment. Even if I am with someone I care about, I hate the fucking day. It's a bullshit holiday because if you love someone, you shouldn't choose ONE or TWO days out of the year to show it. Choose any day, or everyday how about, to show them ya care.

I thought about it and I think my utter contempt for Winter and the holidays therein is quite likely because I can't go swimming in the river or take my aggressions out on Der Bahn. I can't do a lot of my favourite things because it's cold and I'm too goddamned poor that I can't get on a plane and stay in the Southern Hemisphere for the next six months. Hell, I can barely afford to eat as it is.

I just simply don't have the same comfort in the Winter like I do in the Summer. I might be onto a breakthrough here... (makes notes to discuss with therapist...)

Anyway, thanks for reading. I needed to whine and bitch for a bit...

Just See What You Have Done...

I've been in this town so long that back in the city
I've been taken for lost and gone
And unknown for a long long time...

Brian Wilson - Heroes and Villains

It began when BA stopped by earlier today and posted a comment on my last blog entry. She composed the comment, hit the button and poof, her comment was posted.

About twenty-three seconds later, an e-mail appears in my inbox. The subject line reads:

[Higher Power Shower Hour] New comment on Moving In Monaural....

"When did I post that one?" I asked myself as I read the comment. I glanced to the original post and read the date: March 12th, 2008.

One month, two days.

"I haven't felt like blogging in one month and two days?" I queried myself in disbelief. Alright, so I let the QTV blog go long by the wayside, but my MAIN blog?

Unheard of.

Actually, no, it is heard of. I've known of my lack of desire to post for longer than that. A lot longer.

I suppose I didn't think I had anything to say. Christmas wiped me out to a cinder. My "season" literally bled into January, then February, then March. I kept busy as busy gets and didn't come up for air until I fell sick for almost three and a half weeks towards the middle of March.

I didn't want to do shit except lay about like a lazy salmon and watch the History Channel. Eventually, however, even the History Channel failed me for entertainment.

After all, how many shows about Hitler can one stand before descending into either boredom or madness? From drug abuse, to his secret underground city beneath Berlin to the pet names he called Eva, I think I learned more about that demented fuck stick in one day then I'd ever cared to learn in such a short period of time.

Either that or that show about lumberjacks that repeats three times a day, the same episode, all damned week long. Axemen, I think it's called.

The thing that baffles me...

Ice Road Truckers and Axemen. On the History Channel.

Makes about as much damned sense as when they used to show WWE Wrestling on Cartoon Network on Sunday nights as part of their Adult Swim lineup a few years ago. Completely logical, no?

So, apart from that and old episodes of Mythbusters and Deadliest Catch, I've had fuckall to do at home while I convalesced. That makes one cabin feverish. Stabby, in some cases.

Me? It gave me a chance to be alone with my thoughts. To contemplate my way of life and the wisdom/folly of it.

Biggest waste of time ever. It pissed me off even more that I didn't do half the shit I swore to the Gods that I was going to do with myself, then I was pissed off about being so pissed off about it.

And then, in writing this, I was even more pissed off at the fact that while I have exceeded my "cussing limit" in this post, I decided to post it anyway as I originally planned to, sans proofreading.

It feels kind of liberating to cuss in here. I have to edit myself a lot in real life, ya know. Well, most of us have to. It isn't polite to cuss, after all. Not a sign of a true gentleman. Or lady.

But that's what makes cussing so fun! I climb into the truck for the ride home and find myself talking to myself. Usually swearing a cuss or two just for giggles.

So, Internet Gentleman, I may not yet be. I can live with that.

I remember when I was a obnoxious young lad around 12 or so. I remember walking in the woods with a pal of mine and we actually had a contest to see how many times we could say the word "shit" using different sentences. I think we lost track after #312. Either that or a neighbour of ours heard it and told us to knock it off or they'd tell my folks.

Can't say that would have been a grand way to end that Laff-O-Lympic event. Especially since Yogi Bear wasn't there to celebrate my epic fail as I would spend the next week doing time at the house for poor mouthsmanship.

Digression comes and digression goes. This was quite a tangent.

Ah, yes. A month and two days.

I enjoy spending time with my pal Dr. P on the rare opportunities that we can. Mostly because there are only two other people (or so I thought) on this planet that I can while away a good night engaged in geekchat.

I met Dr. P at one of the local bars that we've been to before for a few drinks. We were surrounded by about a hundred or so frat and sorority types, discussing Doctor Who and a ton of stuff as we usually do. Time fracking flew, man, lemme tell you.

I feel so much open and happy in situations like that. No pressure, no judgments, just a few drinks and awesome discussion.

Much more like the old days, before the Dark Times. Before I learned to distrust and hate humanity.

Like that when I talk to Ash over AIM. Doesn't matter what kinda shit fell on my head today, we always seem to get lost in awesome.

I missed having friends like this. I needed friends like this. And it is only recently where I've started down the path of realizing that I actually deserve awesome friends like this. I always felt lucky to have friends, but I never thought I deserved them.

Kinda sad outlook I had there, I know, but I'm working on changing that.

As I am working on changing my life in general. I'm sick of the ruts, the loathing, the feelings of negativity and loss. I need to bring change in my life. To escape the same mental traps I've set for myself and have stumbled into those of others all this time.

I want my fucking life back, goddamnit, and I don't give two shits if this post gets rated "R" or not. This is probably the best venting I've done in quite a while. :)

One day, hopefully all this will not be so much of an issue. It is for that day that I commit my energy and hopes toward. To unlock the brainlock and move. JUST MOVE. In a direction.

'Cause I deserve to be happy, damnit. Is that so wrong?

On Any Other Day...

Yeah, so the hopes to go see The Police in either Dallas or Houston?

Not so much.

That makes two bands on my List that I didn't get to see. If any of you need me for the next twenty-two seconds, I'm going to go sit in a corner and whine.

Damnit.