too much ambien

I need to jump from here to The Correspondence of the Middle Distance Reader. I'm going to serious work for once. Whatever three people who still read this, I thank you dearly. You're welcome to Chicago anytime. You can stay in my moldy bedroomqua My Fiancee cooks a great full og veggies, but be brepared have things like or won way. she doesn't like that/

that has been quarantine quarantine on me
.

HOLY SHIT I'M WRITING FICTION

I'm not sure how it happened, but she crawled into my bed completely naked. I didn't notice right away because I fucking hate mornings. Every time I wake up, I pause and curse whoever allowed me to wake up today. Anyway, I think I flung my hand across the bed, and ended up slapping her on her soft belly. Only it wasn't as soft as I imagined. I had never touched her belly. It was bumpy sorta. Covered in goosebumps I think.

She kissed with disjointed passion. She couldn't commit to this fucking amazing event, this moment. I moved back, and forth from the hypnotic rhythm of kissing, and sucking her tongue inside my mouth, to slobbering all over her petite titties. Shit, I hadn't brushed my teeth yet. That's nasty isn't it? She didn't care.

"Don't get me wrong. I want to. I always think about shit like this, but you know. There's a part of me that obviously can't. Shit, you clearly shouldn't be doing this. He's gonna kick my ass, she's gonna kick your ass, they'll fight each other. It'll be great."

Again, I don't know how she got here. How she got past my parents. Mom was downstairs cooking some longanisa. I could hear Dad watching TV in my parent's bedroom. He was watching Family Guy which made no sense to me for the networks to put something like that on at such an early hour. I guess he DVR'ed it from the night before. He was vomiting again. The chemo was killing him.

Hearing all of this made me realize that my fucking door was wide fucking open. If I was going to do this, I needed to close the door. I looked at the clock, and it was 8:15am. I was going to be late for work again.

My mother had installed one of those doors that could open up at the top, and at the bottom. It was like the snack shop at my old middle school which she used to run. You could see the top half of someone, but never their legs. I think she enjoyed working there so much, leaning over the little counter top where kids would count their sticky coins so they could get a Kit Kat, or some popcorn. I thought she was a fucking psycho for putting replacing their bedroom door with one of these doors. She liked to fuck with me, and pretend to sell me pretzels, or chips. Even now when I'm in college she still does that stuff. It makes her happy so I never discourage her, but it's horribly ridiculous.

I've gotten lost in thought again. I'm was supposed to close their door, but my father walked by all hunched over, and snapped me out of my daydream. He was wearing his pajamas that reeked of barf. I should have offered to change him, but I was scared. "Why are you watching Family Guy? Do you like that show Dad?" He didn't answer right away. He didn't a shit about anything. All he could think about was that he was done puking, and he wanted to go back to bed, and sleep. I thought I heard him say something, but his voice was so feeble, and inaudible. The sound of Stewie beating up Brian drowned out his response. He told me he liked the show before he died, so I imagine his reply was something to that effect. I closed both parts of the door, and went back to my room because I remembered I wanted to put her clit between my teeth, and chew it like bacon. There wasn't going to be any time for that though.

I hate deciding. Thinking about deciding, about choice. Indifference wastes time, and in a situation like this, there was going to be a lot of back and forth. Who knows if this could happen again. It wasn't going to happened like he had imagined it would. She was being cold, distant. As if she was just saying, "Fuck it. Let's just get this over with, and go back to our regularly scheduled lives which consisted of slowly dying in this little suburb where nothing changes." There I go assuming people always thinking these extremely melodramatic thoughts. She could have just wanted to fuck because her husband hasn't had the time nor the energy to please her. Yeah fucking right, what guy couldn't get it up for this light skinned goddess wrapped up in my goddamn blankets. He would be mad not to deny her any satisfaction. Am I mad then?

She's so in control of all of this. I fucking hate being a horny mother fucker like this.

(to be continued...hopefully...for my sanity...so that I know that there actually is hope for me...this is rough as fuck though isn't it)

I forgot

I feel a sudden burst of anxiety.

I haven't written here because of I didn't want to write about all of this best man drama that I'm feeling. I'm tired of fucking repeating myself when it comes to writing in a blog. Poor me, poor me. Nevermind.

Thinking about dancing

I can't help but think about my first dance with my future wife whenever I hear some song on my IPod. Whatever song I choose, it has to be awesome. What's ridiculous about all of this is that we can't dance. Here I am imagining perfect waltzes, dips, and cha-cha's to something funky, or sweet, or just fuck everyone, and dance to some Crystal Castles or something. I have a whole year to pick a song, and my mind will change daily, but I can't help but obsess about it because this is the only thing I have to choose. I'm not worrying about flowers, or colors, or the food. All my responsibilty rests on choosing music.

STOP FUCKING WITH YOUR GLASSES! ACCEPT THAT YOU WERE BAM-BOOZLED! YOU'RE GONNA HAVE TO PUSH THEM UP YOUR NOSE FOR THE NEXT TWO YEARS UNLESS YOU BREAK THEM BECAUSE YOU'RE ADJUSTING THE NOSE PADS TOO MUCH!

Can't she just butt out? or Good job me.

I talked with my therapist last week about the fact that my mother hasn't been involved much with the wedding planning. Andie's family seemed to have everything under control, but I felt bad for my mom. She did after all help me pay for the engagement ring, and I thought she would like to be involved. In only two days, she(my mother) has managed to make this whole situation a hundred times more difficult.

Yesterday, my mother introduced an Episcopalian priest to Andie and her family. My mother wants him to marry us. In a church. Indoors. My idea of a dream wedding was to have a total hippie experience. Outdoors on the grass, barefoot, with someone who resembled that guy who married Liz, and TJ in "Gilmore Girls" marrying us, and everyone has to drop. Those last three things are probably out of the question, but Andie is keen about the outdoors thing.

I know a wedding isn't just about me. In fact, the wedding for the family, and friends...I know this. There's just something inside of me that wants to have it my way(for once). I feel all of this pressure again. This pressure to be the child that pleases his family because the other kids have disappointed the parents in some ways. I was the only child in my family to have graduated from college, and though I am proud of the fact that I survived college, I can't wholeheartedly say that I wanted to go to college. I just did it to make my parents happy. No one else was going to go to college, and I just wanted to have something to be proud of. Now I feel that this is the only shot my mother has at having one of her kids have a traditionally "big Filipino" wedding.

But here's the thing. I don't feel Filipino at all. I don't eat the food, I don't speak the language(except when I'm mocking the accent), and I totally shun most aspects of the (Filipino-American) culture. I hate dressing in labels(not true because I wear t-shirts with bands names, or video games...). Sorry, that's being to general. I don't know what happened, or when it happened, but I just don't embrace my culture, or heritage. Hate me if you must. I don't blame you. I just never fought for it you know. I let my culture slip away. I don't hate my people, but I just can't, or don't want to relate.

Back to what I was saying, I just spoke to the priest who my mother wants to marry us. He totally made me feel like I had no clue what I was getting into. Who knows what life will be like 10...20 years from now, but hearing this now just rubs me the wrong way. He told me that by not having the wedding in a church it would be disrespectful to my mother, and to Filipino culture. Personally, I don't care, and I wish my mother wouldn't care, but if that were the case it would be too easy, and nothing is ever easy for me. Another thing he mentioned is that I might have a hard time accepting the fact that Andie's going to be a doctor, and that she's going to make more money than me.

You know the first thing I thought of when Andie told me she wanted to be a doctor? "Huh, she's gonna make more money than me. Sweeeeeeeeeeeeet."

I have to say that during this conversation(or monologue) Return of the Jedi was on the TV, and I couldn't help but be distracted. It was that totally awesome part where Luke flips out and R2-D2 pops that light saber out, and Luke catches it in mid-air. Try to listen to a priest talk about your future while that scene is on. C'mon now.

Why would I care about how much money she makes? Honestly, it gives me an opportunity to stay home, start a web page(or anything that involved writing from home), and take care of the kids. The best part is that my love supports me in everything I do, and I believe her. I wanted to tell him that I didn't give a fuck about that. I didn't give a fuck about any of his, or my mother's points. Of course I couldn't because for one, I don't feel comfortable swearing to a priest, and two I could hardly get a word in because he was pretty much lecturing me to death.

I know my mother means well.

I have faith in my relationship with Andie. I love her so much, and I truly want(and neeeeeed)to spend the rest of my life with her. Maybe I'm being totally naive, and I shouldn't speak for my love, but if we both want this, isn't that enough? Now I just wish my mother put enough stock in my faith as she does in her faith in God.

Wow, I haven't blogged like that since the good days of the loser_from_uc blog. I'm going to have a Reuben, and some fries to celebrate.

Letters I would never send

Dear Rxxmxl,

I was on the train dropping off Andie at the airport today, and for some reason that song that we made up back in the 5th or 6th grade came into my head.

Se-ex. Sex is for...you and me...
BUY THIS CONDOM, AND GET A CONDO FREEEEEEE
with shock absorbers, and bed springs!
You'll get a free water bed!
Se-ex. Sex is for...you and me...
BUY THIS CONDOM, AND GET A CONDO FREEEEEEE

I don't remember how we came up with that. Perhaps it was after sex-ed. Most likely. Anyway, I couldn't stop laughing. I hope everything is well with you. I haven't seen you in years, and the last time I heard you were pushing a stroller...

I'm getting married next year. I remember you were gonna be my best man back when we were kids. I never told you that, but you knew. I was down to be yours even though you didn't ask.

Sorry, I don't really have much to say. We're not those kids playing basketball with that rickety ass rim back at that run down private school anymore. Those were the days though. All those lucky bounces, and sweet rolls...I just wanted to share that moment with you. Take care my friend.

-A


Dear D***

Thank you for calling today. I was feeling lonely as fuck. I wish I could talk to you guys more. I feel more like myself with you guys. Babbling, unorganized rants...those feelings would make most people feel uncomfortable, but shit...that's me. I don't ramble with strangers. I'm too worried about offending people, saying the right things. Anyway, thank you. I needed to talk to someone today. Say hello to the fam.

-S

So, we're back here again.

It's been a year. Where do I belong?