Posts Tagged ‘vent

08
May
18

F-Book Stalking and Reliving Old Wounds

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So, it’s like this.  I don’t use the site/service I prefer to call F-Book.  You know what I mean.  The place you profile people, poke them, stalk feeds, etc.  I’ve heard enough agonizing, annoying stories about the place.  So, I keep my distance.  And, for the most part, so does my family.  Yet, there are those who find their reasons and do all…that.  They may not have their own “page,” but they’ll still dig into the pages of others, of people they used to know just to see where they are now.  And, if people actually thought to look for me?  Well, too bad, so sad, you won’t find me there.

My sister decides to show me pictures of people we used to know when we were kids.  If these are former classmates of hers, I’m okay with it.  But, I still think it’s wrong if she’s not actually reaching out to these people.  That’s just stalking…or ghosting.

But, when she shows me people I shared a class with…people I used to think of as love interests and/or friends…people I lost touch with…who have now moved on, married, had kids…….

It’s like I’ve been in prison all this time.  It’s like I missed out on life.  It’s like I’ve lost them all over again and multiple ways.  It’s hard to just brush it off and say I’m not bothered or discouraged.  I’ll likely need time away from seeing more of…that…to forget about it, as aging is likely to afford.

In  a very small way, I suppose I should be happy these people, at least, appear happy.  And, the girl I thought I’d eventually marry…at least she has a kid with a name I would have agreed to give the child.

I don’t know which is worse.  Or, I do and don’t want to admit it.  If I had done the searching, I might find myself wanting to get lost in a bottle of booze I dare not touch.  But, I didn’t open the box.  My sister did.

…..

How much can one guy like me take?

I just needed to vent, to process this a bit and now have to let it all go.  So many falling stars.  So many beauties I’ve come to adore running off with other men.  I’m just too slow.  It’s my fault.  But, I’m better off not letting them get to me.  Let them go.  And, where I fall I fall.  Just tune out what I cannot hold or control.  Wait for my moment.  My moment will come.  Or, I’ll die a hermit in good service.  I’ll be like a monk or prophet.

 

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24
Aug
15

Hit the FU@& THIS Button!

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Have you ever just felt that way?  You can’t make something work.  Or, you don’t feel like summoning the motivation to do more than what comes easily?  Maybe you get lazy or depressed.  But, whatever the case, you just get tired of trying and want to break that fire alarm glass to smack the one button that will wipe everything away and give you a clean slate…or time to regroup.

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No, sometimes, you just want something gone and out of your way.  And, when that happens, you hit that button…or kick some ass, eat some trash and get on with your “life.”

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[Which version of the poster looks better?]

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31
Mar
14

Women Blog, and Men ‘Insta-poop’ Elsewhere

Dr Writingbolt’s Social Assessment 3-31-2014

Women blog, and men “insta-poop” elsewhere.  Yes.  It’s a philosophy/theory I’ve been chewing on for some time.  There seems to be a dominance of women attempting to upkeep a daily blog like a cow produces milk.  I keep running into them.  But, the men?  What are they doing?  I find more guys posting links for music videos or maybe sharing some new project they started/finished.  But, daily posts?  Not unless some rare guy is attempting self-therapy online, venting his daily drinking/drug/bipolar journal.

Ablee-ablee.  That’s all, folks.  ‘Simple as that.  Women can’t squeeze enough into their day and need to blog it out.  And, men do simpler things elsewhere.  I know I sure can’t (imagine/manage) a daily blog.  Either my fingers, my brain or even my schedule (with stronger interests and better eyesight elsewhere) won’t permit it…won’t produce that daily milk of “blabnesia” or rotten egg.

Take two deep breaths and call me in the morning.  Doctor’s orders.  “Ah salaam ah lei  koom.”




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