— Bradley Whitford

Fall in love with the process and the results will follow. You’ve got to want to act more than you want to be an actor. You’ve got to want to do whatever you want to do more than you want to be whatever you want to be, want to write more than you want to be a writer, want to heal more than you want to be a doctor, want to teach more than you want to be a teacher, want to serve more than you want to be a politician. Life is too challenging for external rewards to sustain us. The joy is in the journey.

I think at first you were sorry for breaking my heart, then you were flattered when I said I still love you, and now, I think you just secretly enjoy that I’m in pain from missing you.

Happy? holidays

So my family is coming for the Christmas holiday. This means it is not a holiday but an occasion to put in more hours of labor for no pay. But I'm happy they're coming. It means extra towels and more food to be bought; But I'm happy they're coming. Parents do not ask when they can come to your house; they call and TELL you they're spending the holiday with you. But I'm happy they're coming. This means new sheets, pillows and an adjustment to my lifestyle- But I'm happy they're coming. This means I have to take out the good plates and hide the porno - But I'm happy they're coming. This means endless cooking and washing dishes and buying gifts i had not planned to buy including gifts for those they return to back home; But I'm happy they're coming. Did I mention they changed their flight to get in at 10am Saturday morning instead of afternoon and my final exam is Friday night and I don't get out of that till 10pm. But I'm happy they're coming?

So I didn't know how to ask them when they're leaving but i eventually did; the 4th of January. This means technically I'll be treated like a child for 2 weeks. Jesus Christ!

a box of shit

Forest Gump said “life is like a box of chocolates”, but my life is like an unreliable car. Some days it's an up-hill push, and some days it purrs smoothly down the street; today I'm pushing.

I knew the whole day would be messed up from the moment my body refused to cooperate with my spirit and roll me out of bed. I drank too much wine lastnight and this morning I just wanted to go back into my dream.

I tried to slow the clock by strategically planning how to make up the time on the road.

The snooze button was a like a pimp, taking more than it really gave. "Well," I asked myself, "what’s the point of getting up and standing in front of the closet for another half hour?" Naturally the only obvious thing to do is spend the time in bed thinking about what I’m going to wear so I don’t end up standing in front of the closet door doing the same thing, or sitting on the toilet brushing my teeth and staring into space for half an hour.

Well, wouldn't you know it, I fell asleep thinking about what to wear and I dreamed I was dressed and at work and my cell phone was ringing, but it sounded like my home phone. Holy SHIT! When I woke up, it was really late and the office was calling. I didn't pick up. I wondered if I should call back and call in sick since our office policy seems to be "better never than late" - but today was our Christmas lunch at Vincent's Italian restaurant - so I sprung from the bed, took a whore shower, grabbed anything my hand touched in the closet and decided to do my hair in the car.

... but why the hell can men shave in their car, and yet no one has bothered to make a battery-operated blow dryer and curling iron or an attachment that plugs into the lighter. RRRRRR!!!

I'm so Special Ed.


When I was a child, I knew there was something special about me but I just didn’t know what it was. Now that I’m older, I know what it is --- SURPRIZE! – what is special about me is that there isn’t anything special about me.
I get fucked over like anyone else
I never win the raffle or the lotto
I never get first prize
I never get the happy ending
the praise always goes to the person who worked least even when I worked the hardest,
when good stuff happens it’s always on the day I didn’t come or right after I leave

blood-sucking bats with beaks

several years ago, someone bought me a pair of birds as a birthday gift. a few months later he came to visit and noticed that the cage was empty. i didn't know how to tell him that I had purposely let them go but I decided to confess. i thought he would have been angry but he just gave me a gentle hug and said he understood - he said he knows there are many people who can't bear to see beautiful birds prevented from flying, experiencing their true nature. it sounded good to me so i went with it.


but what i didn't tell him was the truth is that i just fucking hate birds … and apparently they hate me too. just because they can fly doesn’t make them any cooler than squirrels or skunks – as a matter of fact, I’ve never had a squirrel or a skunk take a shit all over my car. Everyday, there will be hundreds of cars in the parking lot, but my car seems to be carefully targeted. Birds are nothing but flying assholes who will peck out your eyes if you lay still for too long. it would honestly give me immense pleasure to go bird hunting. someone else told me i just have a fear of birds - ornithophobia - yeah, i'll go with that too.

— Pea-sized Aortas


In the end, he said:
“Look, I’m a complete and utter asshole. I have a very, very small heart and I can only care for limited periods of time. 37.81 seconds, to be exact. I’ve timed it with my stopwatch. If I go over that time limit, I get dizzy and puke. I can’t care for other people. And if I wanted to love you back, I’d have to get another heart because my tiny, little one cannot support something as huge and complex as love. But I wanna try for you. Granted, I’ll probably have to gouge out someone else’s heart and add it to my own to be able to do it but I hate other people so I’m sure I’ll enjoy killing for love.”

What does one say to that?

It’s simple, really. So I answered:
“You already have my heart. So, now, love me back.”

About Me

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YOU CAN HAVE THIS HALF OF ME - I'M NOT USING IT ANYMORE.