Eric

09:17 pm: I am definitely excited about going to work tomorrow. Should be a fun and eventful day if I can find the roads that aren't closed down due to flash-floods.

11:56 am: Day One:
Day One of my Diet.

( Cut for boring shite )

08:47 pm: About my last entry...
I take back my comment.

I actually AM happy.

Finally.

11:53 pm: My Father's Eulogy
I haven't posted in a while, but I'm going to talk about my feelings. I'm going to share my pain with you and if you have a problem with that, don't read this. I need to say this, so deal with it.

My dad died last month. Cancer. A lot of it. He fought to the very end. There were times where I know everyone thought "he might make it." I never did. So my pessimism helped in this one instance because I wasn't let down. Life gave me exactly what I knew it would.

Shortly before he passed, while he was still sick (bed-ridden and on life support) I was visiting my oldest friends who were dealing with their own tragedy. Their dad, a guy who'd been like my second father for twenty-some years, died of liver failure. The night before his funeral we went out on the town. I drank so much that I blacked out, forgot much of what happened that night, and was forced to piece together the puzzle of what I'd done the next morning. Of what I do remember, though, was standing in a bar in Columbia, South Carolina's Five Points, drinking shots of $2 tequila, thinking "This is the place where he prowls... this is where he finds his drunken one night stands. And he'll never be able to do that again." I also purchased an Almond Joy candy bar and a pair of light blue sunglasses, and I told my friend Patrick that he was one of my best friends. This was something I'd never told him before, but it sounds hollow now that I think of how I hadn't been in touch with him for so long. I have patches of memory from that night where I was hugging the toilet, crying and trying to vomit, and probably keeping my friend Patrick and his girlfriend up. I'm such an asshole.

It's not to say I'm falling apart over this. My father had never been a real father figure to me. In a lot of ways I was more mature than he was, and that's saying something. He was a man who as many flaws as he had merits, and I loved him despite the way he treated my mother, my sister, and even me. I have to cut him some slack now and forgive him because even though I'll spend the rest of my life trying to undo the emotional damage caused by having him as my father, I know he was just a man who was tragically flawed. So I'm not heart-broken over his death, because he was such a distant part of my life. Other state. Other family. He just popped his head into my life to see how I was doing, offer some advice, and talk my ear off about his house at the lake, otters, and poetry. I wasn't losing a father like my sister was losing a father.

It'd be a lie if I said I wasn't sad, or didn't miss him. Sometimes when I watch a really good movie I'll catch myself thinking "Would dad like this?" He always loved movies, especially fantasy films like Conan the Barbarian or the Lord of the Rings trilogy (those were probably his favorite stories ever.) And now, writing this, I realize I'm never going to get a phone call from him again. I'm never going to have him get upset because I won't let him drink beer in my car. I'll never get a new poem of his that I won't read because I hate poetry. For a while I was sad because I thought he was going to be the one missing out on all the world has to offer now: better movies, a better president, grand children if any of us ever get around to it... But now I know I'm missing out too. I won't ever see him again. He'll continue to enhance my life, guiding me by the examples he left, but there won't be anything new.

I'm truly grateful for all my friends who've given their condolences and listened to me talk about it. I haven't had to talk about it much, outside my therapy sessions (which are very cathartic, by the way) but every little bit helps.

My father was a truly amusing and infuriating man. The world is a much different place without him.

James Wallace Rion Jr.
June 30, 1948- February 20, 2009

11:43 pm: Hate yourself?
If you hate yourself (and I know I do) you'll play this game. It's easy. It's just like Super Mario Bros. Well, not JUST like Super Mario Bros.

http://catmario.freehostia.com/

I beat the game at -149 lives. I dare you to beat it in less.

03:23 am: sockbaby

09:32 pm: Writing about my feelings is more and more silly-seeming these days. Not that I ever thought the things that happened to me were "cool," "keen," "groovy," or any of those other things the cool kids say these days.

I'm going to talk about something other than my daddy-issues today, though. Maybe soon I'll unload a barrage of personal damage, but for right now I'm going to talk about the state of my love life (or lack-thereof).

I have a bad batting average when it comes to relationships. I guess most people do, but when you only go up to the plate three times those three outs are a little more hard-felt than someone who gets to swing a little bit more. Needless to say, I don't handle being dumped well.

The first girl I kind of "saw" after Sharon was a girl named Jennifer. She was nice, and we meshed pretty well I guess, but it just wasn't the kind of thing that I felt was going to last. She started seeing someone else because I was afraid of committing. Now she's pregnant and I don't know how comfortable I am talking to her. It's lame of me, but whatever. I've been screwed over enough that I have a sense of entitlement when it comes to avoiding exes.

After that, there was Laura. I wasn't dating Laura, but I valued her friendship a lot. Then I tell her "I don't think we should move in together because of my feelings for you... oh, and my dad's dying of cancer so I really don't know how well I'll be able to handle everything" and I haven't heard from her since. I called her on New Year's Eve to wish her and her family the best, but haven't heard a peep since. Maybe I should try harder, but it's not like she hasn't done this before so I really feel like I should just take the hint of her not calling me.

And now there's this other girl. She was just getting out of a long relationship and so she felt it was best to "take things slow" and so we did... kinda. Anyway, just today she told me she and her ex (whom she was still living with when we started kinda-dating) are going to try and work things out. I'm assuming this means that once again I'm the odd-man-out.

What's so annoying to me is that it's really MY fault that all this hurts more. I form such strong bonds with people, especially attractive girls that treat me with some small iota of warmth. So when these bonds inevitably fail, I'm left with girls who want to be friends, but I'm holding all these unrequited feelings. And even when I try not to get too close, I just end up distancing myself and sabotaging the relationship.

Actually, what's annoying to me is that I had JUST convinced myself that it was better not to be seeing anyone since I'm in such a lame socioeconomic situation and then life kinda shoves a really awesome girl in my direction. Oh well, whatever.

I have to remember my mantra: none of this matters. Whatever's going to happen will happen and I can just try to enjoy the ride.

Fucking life.

11:48 pm: Update
So this weekend I went back to South Carolina to bury the man who was like my second father for over twenty years. I met Chalmers "Keith" Mooneyhan when I was around five years old because his sons attended the same day-care center I did. After a while I ended up becoming friends with his older son, "Trey," and ever since they've treated me like family. Once when I got in a fight with my father (one that started and ended with him shoving me over) Keith drove out to the middle of nowhere to pick me up from a somewhat local restaurant.

Keith had been having troubles with his weight and, I'm guessing, depression. That, coupled with the likelihood of alcoholic genes drove him to the bottle and he drank his liver into oblivion. With total liver shut-down there was only so long he could live. He suffered through the pain medication for just under a month before he passed away. I was there to help support some of my oldest friends as they buried their father.

The night before, I shotgunned two Natural Lights, did four shots of $2 tequila (I was told five, but I'm pretty sure they weren't counting right) and chugged a beer. Later I was reprimanded by my friend Trey (who is a bit of a bossy-boots) because he's worried I have a drinking problem. I tried to argue that I only drink once every four months or so, so if every once and a while I get a little drunk, exuberant, and weep in private because my father is dying of cancer I don't really think that's "problem" territory. Pretty fucking lame.

After the service the next day (with a mild hangover) I tried to visit my own father to speed up my exodus from Columbia. I found that he'd been sleeping all day and wasn't likely to wake up for very long. The cancer has spread throughout his stomach so eating causes him pain and discomfort, not to mention he can barely keep down a can of Ensure. I spent the night at his fiance's house and talked to him only a little bit today. He doesn't have long to live. I just want him to stop suffering.

I drove a total of six hours today and tried to deal with all the annoying emotional shit I went through. I did buy some fireworks, though, so maybe at least New Year's Eve will be better.

I hate my life more than ever at the moment. I almost envy my dad for dying. I think it's the wise choice on his part.

08:30 am: I just wrote this long narrative about a symbolism-rich dream I woke up to.

The dream detailed some of the conflicting issues I have with my father and how I love him despite them.

I saw his face thirty years younger and as goofy as ever.

I wrote all this down on fucking LiveJournal and somehow it didn't get posted or saved as a draft. It's all fucking gone.

God damn it.

04:46 am: Also: Grades
B- in Geology
B in Cognitive Psychology
C+ in Abnormal Psych
C in Theories of personality

I'm surprised, but in a good way. I was expecting at least one D. Including my date from earlier, today has been a really good day.

04:31 am: Apparently I have a weakness for fair-skinned redheads. Not terribly surprising.

07:35 pm: Least funny knock-knock joke ever.
Life: Knock knock.
Me: Who's there?
Life: Your dad has cancer and is dying.
Me: "Your dad has cancer and is dying"-who?
Life: ...
Me: Aw fuck.

Two weeks to three months.
Aw fuck.

09:15 pm: You know what?
I'm glad I'm still living with my mom. You know why?

Because I don't have to worry about dating. Dating's out of the question when you can't bring someone back to your place for fear of having your mother and grandmother constantly interrupting anything.
( Long, bitter rant )

11:05 am: Cruelty to Animals
This Halloween I succumbed to the buying urge and got myself a cat costume. Apparently my cat's neck was too thick for him to wear it properly, so I had to just fit it over his head like a little cap. Needless to say, he absolutely hated it.
( Cut for images of animals in clothing! )

05:02 am: Wow.
I just woke up from one of the most fucked up dreams I've had in a long time.

It's a story about a boy and his sister and their time spent in a land that seems to be of eternal night. They occupy themselves making fun of the other inhabitants of the small town they inhabit.

At first it's dark comedy mixed with social commentary. The inhabitants are your typical suburban/near-rural folk. Southern country accents and often heavily influenced by the bible. They read "The Good Book" and gather in their neon-lit shopping malls and showcase profound levels of hypocrisy and ignorance.

Something happens one day: The sister is violently killed by suspicious circumstances. The brother is distraught beyond words, but he starts to realize more the type of place he's living in. He's slowly understanding what makes the inhabitants of the town tick. They're tortured souls, and some of the other souls are the wardens. He's literally living in Hell.

Determined to avenge his sister, and urged forward by the constant visiting of his sister's shade, he starts spinning his web, all the while playing inept. As those around him underestimate his capabilities, he slowly snares each tortured soul and gets them to do exactly as he wants them to. Just when he's about to confront the one who is believed to kill his sister his plans shift and he instead goes after the phantom of his sister.

The boy's sister is the devil. Not that she's the devil disguised as his sister, but the devil is has taken on the role of the boy's sister and he manipulates the things from not-quite-behind the scenes. By visiting her brother "as a phantom" she meant to spur him into punishing some of the other tortured souls, but she too underestimated him.

The thing about the way this hell works: it works on plausible impossibilities. The antagonist realizes this and uses it against Satan, conjuring up Geometry, something so pure and incorruptible that the devils of hell are powerless against it.

With Satan defeated, and the true understanding of his prison, the boy goes to free his mother from the demons who have imprisoned her. After doing so the two of them must figure out what to do with their eternal damnation.

The key thing is that Satan is the great deceiver. It's unclear as to whether or not it was Satan herself that caused the death of her physical form in order to force her "brother" into action or if there was another hand at work.

There. Those are the basic details. I think it would make an outstanding series in any format. I might actually work on this one. It really speaks to me for some reason.

Tags: dream

07:34 pm: Are you ready to like pokemon again?
So check this out. Someone on 4chan posted this theory and, sadly, it makes more sense than I care to admit.
-Eric

Did one ever know the reason why the pacing and story development change after Ash was hit by lightning in the beginning episodes? How Ash and his world were relatively normal until after the incident? I have a theory. The accident with the bike put Ash in a coma. Days later he was found and was hurried to the hospital and treated with heavy medications. This is why Team Rocket became less menacing. The medication took effect and stabilized his coma dreams, instead of being terrifying, they became idyllic, and he's able to live out his Pokémon master fantasies.

( Cut due to length. If you've ever watched pokemon you'll wanna read this. Trust me! )

12:15 am: New Feature: Nostalgioclast
The Nostalgiaclast


Since I am an individual that lives to make other as unhappy as I am, I figured an excellent way to spread my misery would be to run down some of the most beloved games of my childhood. But first I would like to ramble off a short but boring history of my involvement with electronic entertainment.

Even at a very young age I was a video game geek. When my mother went to the laundromat and brought me, I'd find myself transfixed by coin-operated games such as Frogger or Donkey Kong. Later, when I was a much more sophisticated video game aficionado, I was drawn to games like Dragon's Lair because of its cartoon bad-assness. By the way, my spell-checker recognizes "bad-assness" as a word! Go Macintosh power! Anyway, I was limited to playing these games with my imagination because we were too poor to afford quarters for me to feed into a machine so my cartoon frog could be run over. There were home game consoles, but by that point the Atari craze had died down.



Lookit how HARDCORE this is! It's the ATARI!

( Click here to see pictures, videos, and worrrrds. )

Tags: nostalgioclast

02:30 pm: Mini-Manifesto 08-18-08
It’s times like this that I really see how thin the string attached to my sanity is. One minute I’m fine, rational and even happy. The next I’m like some kind of rabid dog, snapping at everyone and everything around me.

To clarify, an argument spiraled out of control when I said I did not feel too saddened by the events of the movie Brokeback Mountain because the decisions and actions of the protagonists went against my personal beliefs. And no, it wasn’t that they were gay, it was that the two men CONSTANTLY cheated on their wives with each other.

The conversation started off with the mentioning of the movie Brokeback Mountain. I thought the movie was a good film, but due to my personal views I didn’t enjoy it. I stated to my friends and peers that it was because my personal beliefs and experiences with infidelity that I didn’t really feel too sad at the end of the movie.

To paraphrase, the response to my simple statement was “but said-protagonist couldn’t be with the one they loved.”

Tough-titty.

Suck it up and be a man. Oh, the hell with the macho shit, just be a decent human being! Are they the only ones who’ve ever had to endure because they wanted something they couldn’t have? For the past twenty or so years I’ve constantly had to deal with not being with some girl or another that I wanted to be with. Life isn’t fair. Deal with it. And if you’re going to get married DON’T CHEAT ON YOUR WIFE/HUSBAND!

Of course, I was being unreasonable. My personal experiences and views shouldn’t have affected my enjoyment of the movie because sometimes “movies are bout the human experience” (another paraphrase, I believe). Presumably, I should have just set aside the fact that I view cheating as a highly detestable act and just let myself be drawn in… or whatever.

So when the conversation continued, I brought up my experiences with cheating. Of course, I didn’t bring up the fact that I too had once cheated on a significant other and it is among the top 5 things I most regret doing in my 27 years of experience. Whenever I want to hurt myself I can always bring up the fact that I did something to hurt someone I have and always will love. I did, however, bring up the fact that cheating played a very big role in my family life with serious negative side-effects. When this statement still wasn’t enough (the atmosphere inside my own car felt like I was being prosecuted simply because I had a different set of views than the others) I said “telling me that I should have sympathized with them more would be like telling someone who lost family in the World War II holocaust that the Nazis weren’t all bad.” I was then told that I “Gottwin’ed.”

Oh, I’m sorry; I forgot that hyperboles are never acceptable, even in casual conversation. Please forgive me for making an exaggeration to try and get it through everyone’s fucking skulls that I AM NOT OKAY WITH ADULTERY OR INFIDELITY. On top of that, I was feeling ganged up on already and being told that my views were ‘wrong’ or something. Excuse me if I didn’t come up with a less extreme and more appropriate analogy.

Before I “Gottwin’ed” my argument (why did I have to make an argument to defend my personal views again?) it had been two against one. Up to that point, two of my friends seemed to think that I should have simply… fuck, I don’t know what the hell I was supposed to say. After I made my ill-fated hyperbole, it was suddenly three against one because of the obvious logical fallacy I had used. I suppose the third attorney believed that one fallacy suddenly shot my case to shit and I should go down with it. In flames, baby.

By that point, the prosecution was so muddled with three voices in opposition to my simple views that I couldn’t really say anything in my defense anymore. I just had to sit and let them get it out of their systems.

I was told that I was being needlessly defensive. Someone asked why we were even arguing and I said I had no idea. It was then that I was told what I SHOULD HAVE DONE. “You should have said you don’t want to talk about it anymore.” Yeah, that’s what someone who’s suddenly feeling defensive and ganged up on by his friends is going to say. I should have just bitten my tongue and ignored that fact that I FELT LIKE THEY WERE TELLING ME MY OPINION WAS WRONG. I don’t honestly see how a “sane” person would have reacted to that situation. On top of that, I was told that it was ME who had handled the situation incorrectly, not my friends who had ganged up on me.

Possible Scenario:
Me: I didn’t feel sad about Brokeback Mountain because I didn’t agree with the characters cheating on each other.

A: It was sad because they couldn’t be with each other and they were each other’s true loves. They didn’t mean to hurt anybody.

B: I don’t see why you feel the way you do when here are reasons why you’re wrong or misunderstanding the situation.

Me: I understand the situation, I just didn’t like it.

A + B Together: Yeah, but here’re more reasons!

Me: Okay, I’m feeling ganged up on right now. On top of that this is a very touchy subject for me because it hits close to home. Let’s not discuss this anymore.

At that point, by me claiming I was feeling ganged up on I would have stirred up more irritation. “WE’RE NOT GANGING UP ON YOU! THAT’S STUPID!” One of my personal views was attacked, why should I have any reason to believe my feelings would be spared the same? Furthermore, when someone is upset about something, do you REALLY see them saying “Golly guys, let’s just call it a draw.”

I bite my tongue and keep my temper on a short leash a LOT. I constantly go out of my way to avoid drama or dissent. I try to get along with everyone, so I guess it isn’t much of a surprise that when I finally snap and lose my temper about something that I’ll be treated as some irrational ranting madman. “Eric never gets mad; he must not have a reason to be upset about this. Let’s continue our method of discussion that has clearly agitated him.” Sarcasm.

To be fair, though, I really should have kept my head. I know a fair amount about the psychology of perception and the potential for the misunderstanding of communications in interpersonal relationships. I should have known that it was a simple misunderstanding (maybe) and used my understanding of the human mind to keep my behavior and speech rational and calm.

Well, that WOULD be the case if the three people I had been engaged in conversation with held degrees in psychology and should have really known better themselves. I don’t even have my bachelor’s in psychology yet, but somehow I should have known better than their collective brains.

What made it worse was the fact that I was stuck in traffic with them. Sitting in a car full of hostile energy with no way to redirect it except by making small-talk about the road-work is not my idea of a good time. The last word I said for around fifteen minutes was simply “Fuck.”

---

After thinking about this situation overnight I realized that I wasn't being too terribly irrational. I was being ganged up on because of the way I felt and I got defensive.

06:10 am: I really, REALLY think I'm broken.

My dream didn't do much to assure me of my sanity.

After around four hours of sleep I was awoken by other of my oh-so-fucked up dreams. I'll write about it when I have the energy. Now I just want to drift into the sweet, dreamless oblivion of sleep.

Please, God, don't let me dream.

01:37 am: This is me talking about sex... something new and different
Thank you, internet, for giving me the chance to express myself to people and not have to worry about expecting feedback. You know that awkward moment (or moments) where you spill your guts to someone, that person doesn't know how to react, and you don't know what reaction to expect? Yeah, the internet just cuts those right out.

( You might not want to read this, but I'm putting it out there anyway. )