I'm always trying to find satisfaction, and I always convince myself it's right there. if I were to be honest with myself, I'd admit that it's not this cigarette, not that bottle, not it or her or that or somewhere else... but then I get hung up because I don't know what it is.

actually I think I do. but I don't want to believe it's that, so I'll settle with trying the "somewhere else" option.

dear diary, ...(instead of doing hw)

I woke up from my nice little nap and it was dark outside. I had like eight new texts and a missed call, so I looked at the clock and realized I'd been asleep for over two hours. whatever, I earned that nap and now I felt much better.

my parents were relaxing in the living room watching tv. I guess they came home when I was asleep. we chatted for a bit, and I told them about my team winning the Mud Run today (it's a 5k run with an insanely long, insanely steep uphill in the middle of the course, and a bunch of mud pits to run / swim / crawl through.) my parents told me about their weekend visiting friends in El Centro. I cleaned up pretty well from last night, so this time they didn't accuse me of having "one of those beer parties."

my stomach was a-bubblin' and a-growlin' for some food, so I left to pick up some Las Parillas. I got there, ordered my carne asada burrito, and Senor Cashier says, "Anything else, guero?" smiling, I shook my haid and said no. he said, "four eighty-five. nice jacket." thanks. I took a seat and waited for my booo-ree-toe.

I was sitting there wondering why I got called guero. I mean it wasn't bothering me at all, I was in a great mood. I still had that post-run high going. and then the jacket compliment... was he being sarcastic? I dgaffed, it was a nice jacket so I didn't care if he thought it was gay.

"sixty nine!" that was me. I went to the counter, where the other guy asked me, "you want hot sauce?" a lot. he grabbed five little capped cups and slid them into the bag. "here you go. nice jacket." I smiled, "thanks," and left.

I got back in my car, wondering if they were screwing with me. was there a big cum stain on my jacket I didn't notice? WHY there would be a big cum stain on my jacket, I don't know. that's the first thing I thought of.. cum stain. that's probably weird. anyway I got home, inspected my jacket for ejaculate (though none was to be found), and ate my burrito. at the time I thought today would make a nice little blog post. now I'm realizing this has become just a waste of everyone's time. sorry about that.

need to go

I have three stories for you.


at the end of freshman year I had to decide whether I wanted to enroll in the AP English and History courses next year or to take college prep. I knew I was gong to take AP. until that point I had never received anything below an A- on any report card. I would go home every day, sit down, and do my homework. that's just what I did.

I had my registration materials spread out on my bed, filling out packets and cards. the last one left to do was the thick, yellow course selection card. I was kneeling next to my bed, looking at the card, and I already knew I was going to choose AP. I had always challenged myself with the most difficult courses available until that point, so obviously AP was for me.

I looked at the card and knew I was going to choose AP, and I hated it. I hated that I was so predictable.

sophomore year I took college prep English and history.


my second story: my family used to go to Old Town once every month or two, and we'd always stop in the old cigar shop. the place feels old and wooden in general. there's a deck out front made with dark, old planks - the same ones used to make the awning and the posts supporting it. on the deck there's some old wooden barrels, and a weathered-looking, life-sized carved Indian. not just the facade, but the whole building is made of white-washed adobe, with some brown shutters covering the windows. leading inside is a pair of those old, wooden, swinging bar doors.

inside it's dim and fragrant. against the back wall facing the entrance is the counter, with all kinds of tobacco products for sale. along the right side of the store is a display case with all different shapes of pipes. along the left is another smaller display case filled with hundreds of lighters, mostly Zippos. some are eighty years old, some brand new. there are Jack Daniels Zippos, John Deere Zippos, Dale Earndheart Zippos, plain ones, shiny ones, silver, gold, everything.

about three years ago, my brother and I were in the cigar shop looking at the Zippos in the case. I saw this one Zippo in particular that stood out from the rest. it was revolting. next to all these shiny brass, steel, or silver lighters is this neon orange, flat-finished Zippo. I turned to my brother with a smile and said, "look at that! that's the ugliest Zippo I've ever seen." he agreed.

I ended up buying that lighter for twenty-five dollars. I still use it.


my third story: this one isn't finished because not all of it has happened yet.

I am living at home, working at Target, and attending community college. I'm sick of everything and I want to see something new. but don't think it's my job or some bad classes that ruined it for me. really, I'm not sure what it is. I just want out.

earlier tonight I spoke with my uncle. he said if I chose to go, there is a job waiting for me in Seattle. the pay would be from two to four times my current hourly rate. it's enough money to live off. eight days from now is when I'm supposed to register for next semester's classes. I'm thinking of not enrolling in anything and moving north. I might come back in a year, in time for spring semester 2010, but then I'd be so far behind my friends that I'd get discouraged and not want to stick with it.

I want to go. for those of you who can stay in school for a few more years and tough it out, good for you. I wish I could. I can't stand this and I don't even know why.

I know leaving is exactly what I SHOULDN'T do.

we'll see how this story plays out.