i got a "yes on 8" ad in the mail the other day. it said that if 8 were voted down, homosexuality would be taught in schools and children would be forced to take field trips to gay weddings.
*mm*
*mmmf*
*MWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHA*
seriously, guys? thats the best you could come up with???
first of all, even if they were to take kids on a field trip to a gay wedding, your kid wouldnt be forced to go cuz you could always refuse to sign the permission slip.
second of all, i'd like to hear the teacher's pitch to the principal about the academic merit of that particular field trip.
third of all, what class would homosexuality be taught as a part of? i recall few, if any, classes on weddings and relationships. that kind of thing is the parent's responsibility to teach their children. who the fuck wants someone else to teach their kids that?


ugh.

anyway, i had a dream last nite that i was living in long beach again and had my old car back. my buddy and old roommate, mo, broke my rear windshield with a baseball bat and somehow rammed the bat through the hood and taped a threatening note to it.

quitting smoking is going ok. its not too bad, but theres a constant, low level craving for a smoke that peaks every few hours. the good news is, i can smell and taste things! i didnt even realize that i hadnt smelled or tasted anything to its full extent in like 4 years. my nose isnt stuffed up any more, and my breath is immeasurably better. however, i am hacking up all the tar ive inhaled over the past few years, which is a fairly unpleasant experience.

i had a 2nd interview for a job in an upscale pizza/pasta lunch counter kinda place. i did fairly well, i fear i mightve come off as irritating to the other people who worked there, cuz i asked so many questions, but i think i did alright with the actual work.
fuck, i need a job.

light my cigarettes with a hundred dollar bill

so i quit smoking. jill got me a carton of smokes for my birthday, and it seemed to be a good idea to quit on something big like that. i'm not hurting nearly as bad as i was last time i tried to quit, at which time i was at about 2 packs a day (40 smokes) and failed miserably after about a month. shit, at the time when i wanted a smoke, it felt like there was a fuckin' wasp's nest between my temples. this time, i've been at about 3-5 a day, and it's mild to moderate, more "i could go for a smoke" than "NICOTENE NICOTENE NICOTENE NOW NOW NOW."

i need to get out more. really. between watching fox and looking for a job, my social contact has been reduced to facebook and aim for like 6+ months, and i'm really starting to feel it. i feel nervous and uncomfortable around people when i go outside, and i suspect it shows in my interviews. i've interviewed for some jobs i would've been great at, but i theorize i blew the interview. plus i've been noticing i'm inadvertantly talking to myself, which i'm sure is not a good sign.

so yeah. irritation and insanity. gooooood times.

let there be blog

as if i didn't waste enough time on the internet already, i'm starting a blog.

some of you may wonder, as i do, what could possibly make me so arrogant as to believe that people would want to read my inane, insane ramblings?

i dunno. i've always thought keeping a journal was a good idea. i always find myself wondering "what the hell was i thinking?" or "how did i get here (physically or metaphysically) from where i started?" this seems like a good way to keep track. plus, the fact that i do, indeed, have friends suggests that at least some people find what i have to say interesting or at least entertaining.

i figure that the worst that can happen is that noone reads it and instead of talking to myself, i can at least type to myself.

now, for the meaty subject matter.

3 interesting dreams lately.

#1
i went on a GTA-stlye shooting spree in santa ana. in the first segment, i went all aggro on a school or something and totally got away with it. the perfect crime. i got away with because the gun was clean or unregistered or something, and couldnt be traced back to me. then, i shot up a street intersection, and i fucked up, cuz it was more public and i left witnesses and i realized that i didnt, in fact, arrange the gun to be untraceable and it was only a matter of time before i was caught and probably put to death.

my theory:
the gun represents some part of my life that was previously handled, and now im concerned that it isnt kept together. i have a feeling that the gun is a symbol of employment...money is power, and i've been looking for a job. i started out confident that it would be easy, and it hasnt been, and i suppose i've been pretty worried about it.

#2
i was watching fox (my girlfriend's son, who i've been spending most of my time caring for) and i was invited to go out drinking with scott kurti and kristin wilcox, of all people (high school chums) and i had thought that i'd arranged for him to be taken care of, and i went out, and started worrying that i hadnt taken care of it at all, and i called home to ascertain, and the voice on the phone said in a very matter-of-fact way "hello, child protective services, can i help you?" naturally, i shat bricks, and called jill (the afforementioned girlfriend) and she was understandably pretty pissed.

my theory:
i've essentially been the kid's stepfather for about six months, and i'm new to this whole kids thing, and there's a lot of pressure. there are so, so, so many things to remember and take care of and watch, and if you fuck up, he could get scared or hurt or much, much worse. additionally, it's a very time consuming proposition, and leaves one with very little time to onesself, meaning very little, if any, social life. now, i love this kid, and taking care of him has thus far been the most worthwhile thing i've ever done with my life. it's humbling and rewarding and i could see doing this for a very, very long time. all the same it's not easy, and i guess i am a little worried that i'm losing touch with the outside world and my friends because i don't get out much anymore.

#3
i was at this boarding school, just visiting, not living there, and some broad wanted to fuck me and i was all "uh, no thanks man, i have a girlfriend." and she got really mad. and the school was constantly being barraged with natural disasters and riots.

my theory:
fucked if i know, dude.