Monday, August 16, 2004

Nine Inch Nails - I Do Not Want This

i'm losing ground
you know how this world can beat you down
and i'm made of clay
i fear i'm the only one who thinks this way

i'm always falling down the same hill
bamboo puncturing this skin
and nothing comes bleeding out of me just like a waterfall i'm drowning in
2 feet below the surface i can still make out your wavy face
and if i could just reach you maybe i could leave this place

i do not want this
i do not want this
i do not want this
i do not want this

and don't you tell me how i feel
don't you tell me how i feel
don't you tell me how i feel
you don't know just how i feel

i stay inside my bed
i have lived so many lives all in my head
and don't tell me that you care
there really isn't anything now, is there?

you would know, wouldn't you?
you extend your hand to those who suffer
to those who know what it really feels like
to those who've had a taste
like that means something
and oh so sick i am
and maybe i don't have a choice
and maybe that is all i have
and maybe this is a cry for help

i do not want this
i do not want this
i do not want this
i do not want this

and don't you tell me how i feel
don't you tell me how i feel
don't you tell me how i feel
you don't know just how i feel

i want to know everything
i want to be everywhere
i want to fuck everyone in the world
i want to do something that matters
i want to know everything
i want to be everywhere
i want to fuck everyone in the world
i want to do something that matters
i want to know everything
i want to be everywhere
i want to fuck everyone in the world
i want to do something that matters
i want to know everything
i want to be everywhere
i want to fuck everyone in the world
i want to do something that matters
i want to know everything
i want to be everywhere
i want to fuck everyone in the world
i want to do something that matters
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Dream's Creation

Working is doing my time for the crime of being born. The crime of being alive.

I didn't ask to be born, I didn't ask to be alive, but I have a price to pay. I've got to slave away. Work nearly every day. There's nothing I can do to change it.

The reason I was born was because of love. An insipid human ideal that's about mutual feelings between a pair of the opposite sexes.

It's been said love is everything. All you need is love. And it doesn't always last.

They divorced when I was three. I've never known my real father.

It didn't last. I am a memory of their time. I was made by their attraction. Them going into each other. Their so-called love.

I was made that day. I had no choice. I was made because you cannot fight the gravities of nature. That love they say that is everything.

I'm going through the motions. On an ocean in the sea and I'm just a little river that doesn't believe. The courses might change sometimes, but it all leads to the same place. The end. It may bend, and it may be a ride, but you'll get to the same place.

Grab the bus tray. Swoop around out of that backroom. Go through the small doorway. Go out into there.

Customers sitting on tables. The sizzling of steaks. The murmur of conversations going on all around. The hat on my head. The belt tight on my khakis. My shoes walking quick on the ground.

There's a table. Cluttered, dishes all over, cups standing, the blue small slip of paper turned around. I set my tub down. My hands move but my mind stays. In a flurry of movement I put the dishes in my tub, getting off the contents. I take the glasses. I wipe it away with the rag. The table gets clean.

But am I clean?

Working away, the slave, like all the rest. The job gives the money. The slips of paper that allow your survival. It's a revival. Lets you have the right to live.

He stands in the doorway to my brother's room. I'm going down the stairs, to go to Wendy's, to go to Ryan's. He says, "Come here. I want to tell you something." He ushers me into my brother's room, closes the door. Says, "You don't work tomorrow, do you?"

"No."

"I'm moving out tomorrow," he says. I tell him she's the one who should be moving out. He says I shouldn't be mad. I run down the stairs, "I need to get the hell out of here," I say and shut the door.

I am mad, but not in a mad way. Just annoyed.

As I'm driving to Wendy's I listen to Scarling's "Alexander the Burn Victim" and think that without my stepdad--my real dad--I would not be what I am.

He has taught me to work hard, at my job. He has taught me discipline. He has made it so I can make it on some level in the real world.

I get to Wendy's and order a #1. It's $3 and something. I pull out my five and pull forward in the drive through. There's two cars ahead of me.

I hear a girl talking through the drive through's intercom. She says something about a salad. I hear the money amount said, and she pulls forward. I can see her in my mirror. She's got her head down, looking for some money I suppose.

I realize she doesn't realize I'm looking at her, and that makes it interesting. I think, you're beautiful, because all women are.

I pull forward and get my bag to go, get my change, and I'm off.

I go to Ryan's, I eat there, and we talk about things, eventually going up to his room.

Eventually I leave there and come home.

I run up to go on the computer. Ryan wanted to play Starcraft with me.

My mom's on.

I say, "Why is he moving out? You should be the one moving out." She says, "I don't want to be with him anymore." I say, "Then why are you forcing him to move out?" Then she says, "I don't want to be with him anymore." I say, "You're blind." She says, "How am I blind?" I say, "You're unable to feel empathy." A sit there a while, then I say, "It's like I said, 'Love is about mutual feelings.' It's about all people involved, not just you, not just what you want." She doesn't say anything.

I go downstairs and wait till she gets off the computer. I come up many times, to see if she's done, and she's still on.

I turn on the TV. Nothing's ever on. But I turn on G4 Tech TV, and Judgement Day is on. I like the show. I watch it.

I run up there again. She's still on.

I come back down, and go through the channels. Nothing's on.

I think of going to bed. I wonder when she'll get off.

She finally gets off and I come up here.
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Saturday, August 14, 2004

The Pitiful

I go around, going to people's tables and telling them how's your dinner and asking them if I can take in plates. I'm set in the old section, which is small, and I've been hitting the tables hard, wanting to get a tip, and wanting the customers to have a nice meal.

I come to the 6-seater table. There's only a man and a small kid sitting there, and I ask them how's the meal so far? and the man says fine. I then take some plates and walk over to the little girl, and ask her are you done with this plate? and she says yes and I take it. The man says, when you're done taking those dishes back, and I say yah? and he says, you can zip up your fly, it's embarrassing.

The guy says it in this way which is very mean, pompous. The customer comes first, I think, as my reaction to what he says is filtering through my brain, and all I do is say okay, and walk away, not changing the look on my face at all.

Inside I'm pissed. I did not deserve to be treated like that. As I'm over at my busing cart, emptying the dishes with breakneck speed, I think, what an asshole. He could've done it in a much nicer way. I was kind to him. What did I do to him for him to have to treat me like I was utter and complete shit?

While I'm standing there I zip up my fly, and I think of walking over to the man and saying, you don't need the be embarrassed anymore you fucking asshole I zipped it up. I hope you won't be embarrased anymore, because I wouldn't want that to happen you pompous fucker sir. I don't do it. Customer comes first, I think. And I think, if he wants to treat me like shit, let him.


I think, there's plenty of people that're assholes like that in the world. And eventually, he'll get what's coming to him.

I mean, doesn't the guy get it? I was working hard, working my ass off, had been working since 11 AM, and I was going to work all the way to 10 PM. When you're busy doing your job, you don't stop to think, Oh, why, holy shit, my fly's open. When you're working, you work.

And what about this guy? Doesn't he realize I'm only doing my job. I sensed he had been annoyed by my presence, by me being kind, and doing my job. And doesn't this asshole realize that he probably was once in the same exact position I am, and probably is not too far from it either at this point, from the looks of it.

He could've been so much damn kinder about the whole fucking thing. He could've said, "Hey, your zipper's open, you know." And I could've flaunted some belation, a little surprise, and said, "Thanks. Sorry about that."

But no, here's a fucker that apparently finds it fun to pick the shit off my bones.

I thought, I'm better than him. I didn't come back up there. I didn't do anything back, I didn't give him some fucking shit to chew on like he gave me, all I said was yeah and went away. And one day I'll be so much better than that fucker, the way I'm working. One day I'm going to be up there somewhere where this fucking asshole would've never imagined. . .and he'll still be shoveling shit at whatever job he has.

I thought, it's people like that that really just make your day sour and bad.

I didn't give that fucker the time of my day. What comes around goes around, asshole. One day you'll be doing something, and then someone will give you a slap to the face like you gave me in the rudest way--just like you did.

I did not go back to his table. When he left and I could've said have a nice night, I didn't.

A little later, I was still hitting the tables as hard, and when I bused I bused hard as I could, I was pissed. I needed to get it out somehow. I kept thinking the same thoughts, and I bused as fast as I've ever.

After I bus a few tables, I go to this middle table in my section, where there's six or so old people.

I've already asked them how's the meal so I don't ask them that. I come in and I take this plate this old man has, and say excuse my reach.

He says, don't come over here anymore and reach over at me here. We'll set the plates aside for you to pick up. There's obvious annoyance in his voice, and it's like he's talking to some pile of rocks, as if I'm not even a person.

This pisses me off even more, but the customer comes first, so all I do is say, sorry, I'm sorry, sorry. I walk away and I don't fucking touch that table anymore, either.

I hate customers that treat you like shit like that. You just try to do your job, and they give you hell about it, as if you're not even a person, just some thing for them to beat up and be all mad at.

When those people left, I could've told them have a nice night too, but I didn't. Fuck if they deserved a nice night. What they deserved was better manners, and to not treat people like shit.
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Hemoglobin

Nope, she didn't come home.
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I can change/ I survey the damage/ Hold me under/ Cut away this empty/ Hold me under/ Change the way I feel about you

I'm so tired my thoughts cannot think even when they have been thought and then what I'm trying to say comes out all wrong and all mixed and shuffled up.

I worked my ass off today. I bused table after table after table, over and over again. I did get a break, 30 minutes, and then later on they asked me to go on a break again. I only breaked for 15 minutes.

They also asked me to leave early once again, but I said I wouldn't do that, and I kept on busing and busing and busing.

Tyler, Steak Buffet isn't the one who's going to murder me, I'm the one who's going to murder it.

Once I had enough caffeine to achieve a caffeine high, I was working the tables like I was making love with them. I'd wipe them off and I'd put my entire body on top of it, and my hands into it. I'd pick up the cups easily, since they were all the same cup size. I'd pick up the plates like nobody's business.

I was a goddamned machine.

Laury, one of the nicer managers there, asked me to prebus about 6 or so, and I told her I'd rather keep busing, like I had been since 1. Later she asked me why I liked busing so much, and I didn't really have an answer. I just felt like busing, so I told her I liked how you just do your thing, you don't have to talk to anyone at all. She said she knows I'm good at it, and walked away.

Even later on, about 8:30 or so, I was set in the back to unrack with Chris. We had lots of fun. I had this act I pulled with Chris: I'd call him master, and he'd call me bitch. It was rather fun, not to mention all the other antics we did.

It was rather amusing, and made the work easier.

When I finally got off, I came home and my dad told me mom and him had gotten in the fight. What's new?

This time my mom called the cops on him, saying she was afraid he was going to hit him, which I know he'd never do.

All he had done from what I understand is take her car keys, since he didn't want her to leave and go to the bar.

My dad said he doubts she'll be home tonight, since she's all pissed and called the cops over on him, so she could leave.

Good riddance, I guess. My mom is nice to me on levels, but I see past the little act.

Today, I got a Police shirt, and also my Oceansize album I ordered.

The Police shirt doesn't fit me, and I've yet to play the Oceansize album.

Yesterday I also won this e-bay auction for Nine Inch Nail's Broken EP for only $1.00, but it's $5.00 plus tax shipping.

The rate I'm going with work, Chris told me, I'm going to be up there unracking soon enough, and getting a raise. He said Laury likes me because I'm a hard worker, and you don't get enough of those.

I also got Parasite Eve II in the mail yesterday, and I played it for about an hour last night. I have some opinions on it, but I don't really have the capacity to go on about it. . .I'm too damn tired, and I have to get up at 9 AM tomorrow so I can be to work by 11 AM.

Oh, and I also forgot to mention that during my break today, I got a free meal since I came in when they called me.
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Friday, August 13, 2004

Work = Force x Distance

They called me up almost immediately after I'd woken up. Somehow I knew it was them.

They asked me to come in at 1 o'clock, I said fine, and subsequently I hung up the phone.

So that makes it that I'll be leaving for work in about an hour from now, and be working 9 hours.

Somebody shoot me, please.

Then tomorrow, I work even more hours. From when the place opens to 10. So about 11 AM in the morning to 10 PM.

I can do this shit!
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Thursday, August 12, 2004

Wilco - Wishful Thinking

Fill up your mind with all it can know
Don't forget that your body will let it all go
Fill up your mind with all it can know
What would we be without wishful thinking?

Chambers of chains
With red plastic mouths
The inside of outside
No one has found
How to unring the bell
It's just as well

The turntable sizzles
Casting the spells
The pressure devices
Hell in a nutshell
Is any song worth singing
If it doesn't help?

Fill up your mind with all it can know
Don't forget that your body can let it all go
Fill up your mind with all it can know
'Cause what would love be without wishful thinking?

Open your arms as far as they will go
We take off your dress
An embarrassing poem
Was written when I was alone
In love with you

I shook down those lines
To shine up the streets
I got up off my hands and knees
To thank my lucky stars that you're not me

What would we be without wishful thinking?
What would we be without wishful thinking?
What would we be without wishful thinking?
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A Ghost Is Born



Buy it now.
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The pressure devices/ Hell in a nutshell/ Is any song worth singing if it doesn't help?

Work was busy today. I was pretty out of it most of the time, and not feeling like I wanted to be there, but I worked because that's all I can do.

Later on, once I got some caffeine, I felt better, and worked fine. It was better toward the latter part of it anyway, less people.

When I got home my dad was on about my mom again like he's been for who the hell knows how long.

She's still going out each night and coming home drunk. Last night I came up here and my dad was up here talking to her in her room with the door closed, and my brother was sitting there like an idiot listening in.

I told him to go to sleep, but he didn't listen to me.

My dad started sort of yelling at me after work today. He kept telling me I'm supposed to tell my mom what she's doing is wrong, if we want things to change. I just said she's an adult and can do what she wants, even if what she's doing is wrong.

I went over to Ryan after I ate something (I was starving), and then when I got home, I was going to have some cereal but I couldn't because we were nearly out of milk. My dad wouldn't let me. I told him to give me some money, I'd go to the store like I said I would've earlier when I came home from work.

He gave me the money, I got milk, some yogurt. When I got home and I was finally eating my Raisin Bran, he told me I couldn't go on the computer after he'd gone on and on about how my mom's ruining our family and how I should care.

He asked me if I cared? and I told him that I didn't care. I said again she's an adult, and that if I were to say anything to her it wouldn't change her ways. I also said that I'd already came to her directly about the problem she has through the letter I wrote her, but he scoffed at that saying it was nothing like approaching her in person. I then told him I can better convey my thoughs and overall do a lot more powerful things with the written word. He probably didn't believe me.

While I was eating and reading this random magazine article, he was all stressed and tense and then told me I couldn't go on the computer.

My parents have always been very anal about me going on the computer. When I didn't have a job, they wouldn't let me go on the internet at all. Once I got a job, they said, then I could go on as I pleased.

I told him that just because he was pissed off at mom didn't give him the right to say I couldn't go on the computer. Then my brother started chiming in as if he was a part of this stupid thing about me not being able to go on the computer. I told him to shut up every time he started to say something. He didn't need to say anything. I had worked hard my five hours, it was busy, and I had a job and they said that once I got a job, I could go on the computer.

Getting all pissed at me for not caring, and because I wasn't going to approach my mom directly about her problems, and because you're all mad she's gone and then saying I can't go on the computer because of it is bullshit.

I went upstairs and took a shower after I'd eaten my cereal. I did not go on the computer, and wasn't going to but then my dad said I could go ahead and go on, so here I am.

I actually don't care about many things in my life, at this point. I'm sort of just here, doing what I have to do to get by.

I've got my job now, and it takes up some of the time each of my days, and I have it so that I can get money and save it up, as well as so I can have more freedom to do things my parents usually wouldn't allow. I've got school coming up soon, and other things.

I am just here. If I ceased to exist, or if a car ran me over right now and I died, then that is the end of me. I do not look at life as something that I'm for sure going to have forever, so I try to do as many things as I can in a given day. I really don't care about many things.

On one hand what my mom's doing is wrong if you think in 3D terms, and about all people involved. On another hand, she's a human being and can do whatever she wants. If she wants to act like she's single and go out to bars, and hang out with men she meets at those bars behind our family's back, she can do it, even if it's wrong, because to her it's right and eventually she'll get what's coming to her.

Anyway there's no stopping her. She's one of those people that does what they want, and love to feed off the tension and attention they get from the conflicts which arise from them doing things they want to do even if they're wrong and even if she has liabilities she's made in her life.

By my dad constantly worrying about her when she's gone, and talking to her when she gets home, it only feeds her more and makes her do more of the same. But if he stopped giving her money to waste on drinking, made her face up to the reality of this situation, and of all the things that will happen if she does in fact go through with a divorce, then she would realize in full judgement that what she's doing is wrong and is complicating everything that her life is up to this point.

But I'm just some 17-year-old, so what do I know?

Not much.

I'm just here, is all. I see that if I don't work hard, my future's more of the same as I've just been presented with right now: working, getting money, spending that money on amusements. I'm really apathetical towards this whole perspective, and I don't really care anymore. Deep down I do not care, but I have to act like I care, so I am an actor just like all the rest of us.

Really, the entirety of my life seems rather trivial, if only in the end I'm going to die for all the struggles. But there's that stupid self-perpetuating power of the human spirit, and even as much as you'd want to get rid of it, it's still there.

I was told I was special when I was younger. That each of us will do great things in this world. That was a lie, obviously. I am not that naive.

Yes, I'm different than anyone else on this world, in that way I'm special. But that doesn't mean I will do great things because I am different in some ways than others.

Great moments are bourne from great opportunity, but few really grab it. Right now I have an opportunity. I am young, I can go down many paths. But each of these paths leads to the same place. Some paths, though, leave my footprints and my writings on the trees and walls for others to read for a long, long time.

I can walk through many doors, but some are locked and take skill to open. I can just break down these doors, but then I cannot shut the door behind me and what's behind the door will always hinder me from what's ahead of that broken door and deeper into it.

[Edited]
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Wednesday, August 11, 2004

Hilarious

Whacking Around the Bush.

I'm listening to it on repeat.
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