I can’t recall the last time I’ve actually posted something on xanga that wasn’t either a quote, song lyric or some other banal crap. I’m afraid my absence from writing has drastically impaired my brain’s ability to transmit thoughts through my keyboard in a manner that’ll make sense… but here goes.

Sometimes I feel devoid as a person; I don’t really know who I am, or what I want, or even what I need in life.  I’ve always thought as you got older you’re supposed to continually learn new things about yourself and grow as a person. So why does it feel like I haven’t grown at all? I’m a grown-up, but I’m not a grown-up.

On second thought, lemme stop here. This is just drivel.

I think about the day in Oyster Bay
When you were mine
Strolling through the garden, playing make believe, wasting time
Laughing at the odds, but we can be happy,
Atop a hill beneath the trees
Try to keep that picture from suddenly fading
Like what’s become of you and me
Tomorrow’s another day, tomorrow’s another day,
Tomorrow’s another..

You took me to the pond, scattered memories
Branches that swayed
A family gathering that I couldn’t come to
Cause I was late
Cleaning out your memory
In your old building
Your sister slept while I would wake
Rolling out the canvas, collected your youth,
And dusted boxes and dried up paint
Tomorrow’s another day, tomorrow’s another day,
Tomorrow’s another day, tomorrow’s another..

Stumbled on the secrets,
A haunted history, original sin
Oyster Bay’s burning,
Salvage all you can before it does you in
You asked for a tune, dedicated to you
Sing along but not a friend
So clear my heart slow,
Picked up my pen but nothing came out except the end

Tomorrow’s another day, tomorrow’s another day,
I said tomorrow’s another day

“We have this idea that love is supposed to last forever. But love isn’t like that. It’s a free-flowing energy that comes and goes when it pleases. Sometimes it stays for life; other times it stays for a second, a day, a month, or a year. So don’t fear love when it comes simply because it makes you vulnerable. But don’t be surprised when it leaves, either. Just be glad you had the opportunity to experience it.”

- NS

A Professor stood before his philosophy class and had some items in front of him. When the class began, wordlessly, he picked up a very large and empty mayonnaise jar and proceeded to fill it with golf balls. He then asked the students if the jar was full. They agreed that it was.

So the Professor then picked up a box of pebbles and poured them into the jar. He shook the jar lightly. The pebbles rolled into the open areas between the golf balls. He then asked the students again if the jar was full. They agreed it was.

The Professor next picked up a box of sand and poured it into the jar. Of course, the sand filled up everything else. He asked once more if the jar was full. The students responded with an unanimous “yes.”

The Professor then produced two cups of coffee from under the table and poured the entire contents into the jar, effectively filling the space between the grains of sand.

“Now,” said the professor, as the laughter subsided, “I want you to recognize that this jar represents your life. The golf balls are the important things–your family, your children, your health, your friends, and your favorite passions – things that if everything else was lost and only they remained, your life would still be full.

The pebbles are the other things that matter like your job, your house, and your car. The sand is everything else -the small stuff.

“If you put the sand into the jar first,” he continued, “there is no room for the pebbles or the golf balls. The same goes for life. If you spend all your time and energy on the small stuff, you will never have room for the things that are important to you. Pay attention to the things that are critical to your happiness. Play with your children. Take time to get medical checkups. Take your partner out to dinner. Play another 18.

There will always be time to clean the house and fix the disposal. “Take care of the golf balls first, the things that really matter. Set your priorities. The rest is just sand.”

One of the students raised her hand and inquired what the coffee represented. The Professor smiled. “I’m glad you asked. It just goes to show you that no matter how full your life may seem, there’s always room for a couple of cups of coffee with a friend.”

“Your offer, from the prospective of a guy like me, is plain and simple a crappy business deal. Here’s why. Cutting through all the B.S., what you suggest is a simple trade: you bring your looks to the party and I bring my money. Fine, simple. But here’s the rub, your looks will fade and my money will likely continue into perpetuity…in fact, it is very likely that my income increases but it is an absolute certainty that you won’t be getting any more beautiful!

So, in economic terms you are a depreciating asset and I am an earning asset. Not only are you a depreciating asset, your depreciation accelerates! Let me explain, you’re 25 now and will likely stay pretty hot for the next 5 years, but less so each year. Then the fade begins in earnest. By 35 stick a fork in you!

So in Wall Street terms, we would call you a trading position, not a buy and hold…hence the rub…marriage. It doesn’t make good business sense to “buy you” (which is what you’re asking) so I’d rather lease. In case you think I’m being cruel, I would say the following. If my money were to go away, so would you, so when your beauty fades I need an out. It’s as simple as that. So a deal that makes sense is dating, not marriage.

Separately, I was taught early in my career about efficient markets. So, I wonder why a girl as “articulate, classy and spectacularly beautiful” as you has been unable to find your sugar daddy. I find it hard to believe that if you are as gorgeous as you say you are that the $500K hasn’t found you, if not only for a tryout. By the way, you could always find a way to make your own money and then we wouldn’t need to have this difficult conversation. With all that said, I must say you’re going about it the right way.Classic “pump and dump.” I hope this is helpful, and if you want to enter into some sort of lease, do let me know.”

- Nick Nelson

I tried to utilize what was left of my dreary summer and spent the last weekend before class started at Atlantic City. The night was filled with reckless gambling, sporadic endeavors searching for food, and deprivation of many hours of sleep. Being able to finally get some rest that night felt almost blissful.

But I woke up early that morning from a dream that struck me as odd. It was odd because I couldn’t decide what to make of it; was it good because I dreamt it or was it bad because it ended so abruptly? She spoke to me, and she said we should give it another shot. And those last few moments of that dream were one of the happiest of my life. Or at least I thought it was before I realized it was just that, only a dream.

Goodbye facebook. For now.

You ever watch a chick flick and you notice there’s always these little romantic moments and gestures that seemingly presents itself at the most inopportune times within the movie?

Oh come on, you know which ones I’m talking about. The ones where you know can only happen in movies? I think relationships are a grim reminder that no matter how hard you wish for it, life will never play out to those cloud nine ideals.  I only wish we could live in the movies.

Kinda brings me back to an old entry from last year:

Although I believe in it, I’ve given up on that delirious, no holds barred, achingly perfect love that they show us in movies and photographs and novels. The kind of love that you drown in, where every moment apart feels like an eternity of longing, where every reunion makes your heart race and your loins murmur. Sure, lust and infatuation can simulate many of those sensations. But that kind of true love? Only in books, on screen, and captured in brief electric moments on film, my friend. Oh and rarely, and I mean rarely, in real life. I still believe that much, that there exists that kind of passionate all encompassing love.

But will I have it? I’ve become either too jaded or too cynical or too naive or all of the above to truly believe that I’ll have that kind of love. I’m much more practical than that. Oh, love may once again step through my door, but I imagine it will be the kind that settles into the couch and flips on the tv for a game and some beers. It’ll be a love of warm socks, late dinners, silly movies, and snuggling. A love that may or may not have a happy ending. And I’m learning to live with that. It ain’t so bad, is it?

Matinée please.

Even a broken clock is right twice a day.

Caring for drunken individuals is such a hazardous job. I hate it.

And what’s with everyone bringing sexy back? You’re not bringing anything back now stop. It’s annoying.

ix/xi/mmi

Some things are just too hard to forget. Half a decade, and yet half still live on as if it was only yesterday.