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January 27th, 2010
For any of those even remotely interested in my well-being, I'm happy to let you know that I'm fine. More than fine, actually. For once in my life I might be "good." Maybe "great", but that should fall into place about the time I move into my apartment with the woman I love. So "great" should be dropping by in right around a month. I've had my share of pot-holes (being sick, not having an apartment with the woman I love, people's shenanigans) but they come nowhere close to knocking me down below "good."
I haven't written anything lately because things have been so good. I used this place to vent about my frustrations. Maybe I'll still use it some time in the future, but for the most part this account is going to continue gathering dust. Once I have more spare time I might start writing again, but at the moment life is going to be too hectic.
I'm working three or four days a week and I'm taking four courses at GSU. And, while I'm not going to have to worry about running any roleplaying games any time soon, I should be using that extra time to study.
Oh, I hope everyone's doing well, too. After being gone for so long it feels like a daunting task to go back through everyone's last entries. Also, it feels weird commenting on important things that happened well into the past. I'll try to not be a stranger!
September 21st, 2009
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. :
March 21st, 2009
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
January 24th, 2009
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.
January 19th, 2009
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.
December 30th, 2008
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.
December 25th, 2008
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.