Yippie-kye-ay Mister Falcon!

So yeah, the car died. It's gonna cost me $1200 roughly, and cross our fingers that there is no engine damage. So far so good.

Fucking timing belt, I JUST had the timing belt replaced and while I'm not 100% convinced this isn't the shop's fault, I'm kinda stuck now.

Yeah, so apparently there is something called a tensioner that holds the timing belt in place. I went into the shop and had them show me. They said THAT is what failed and when it did, it snapped my brand new timing belt. I'm still not satisfied with the answer but I feel better about it than I did yesterday. They still wont come down on the price but at least I'm getting another timing belt for free. Guess they felt they could throw me a bone.

Bottom line, this should never have happened. I don't understand why you'd replace the timing belt and not the thing that holds it in place. Well, it's all getting replaced now. Timing belt, tensioner, pulleys, waterpump. Everything that touches the timing belt is being replaced. Let's just hope there was no damage done to the engine when the thing snapped.

Whatever. Fuck cars.

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You're dead to me, March.

You had to get one last kick in didn't you? Are you satisfied? Driving to get something to eat today, my car just stopped working. Lost acceleration, all lights on dash come on. Eff you March, this is the last straw. You're dead to me.

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March Madness?

Oh, you have NO idea!

I don't even know where to start. This month and the last few days of February have been so bizarre that I literally stumble for words whenever I'm posed with the problem of explanation. When I talk about it, it doesn't even sound like my life I'm conveying. It sounds like I'm telling a tale of misery and dispair. Pity parades and long, meaningless diatribes -- well that's not usually my forté. So, humor me for a bit, I guess I'll start with February.

February 27th 2007: Someone by the fake name of Bontrat Kaman, with an equally fake email address hacks into my paypal account and precedes to empty out my checking account. Paul freaks out. Bills are due. And I'm staring at a balance of about $200 dollars. Call Bank! Call PAYPAL! It takes a week or so for all the money to get back. In all honesty though, it went pretty smoothly. Multiple calls and hair loss later, things are back to normal by early March.

March 24th 2007: Dennis gets a cease and desist letter from Comcast stating that contract breaking activity has been linked to our account. This is my fault. If we fail to comply our internet service will be shut down. My stomach shrinks to the size of a peanut and I immediately feel sick. I spend my morning alternating between freaking out and being on the toilet. I don't handle stress well. For the most part I do my best to avoid it all together.

March 25th 2007: My Dad arrives at BWI at 1:04pm in the afternoon. It's a bit jarring to see him. He's a recovering alcoholic who went through brain surgery a number of years ago. He's got emphysema and has trouble catching his breath. A month ago his Social Security settlement finally came and now he actually has money to live. He sent me one thousand dollars as a gift against my wishes. I told him that it was his money and he needed it more than I did. At that time he also planned a vacation to visit me and a few other friends. Spanning Texas, Maryland, Pennsylvania, and Boston he plans to do quite a bit of traveling. I have to admire that, the man hasn't left California in close to forever. It's been roughly nine years since I've seen my dad and he is staying in town for a little over a week. It's also worthy to note that I have only seen him twice in the last seventeen years. I struggle to figure out what I'm going to do with the man. I think I may take him up to Baltimore so he can see where I went to college.

March 26th 2007: I hear through the grapevine at work that we are getting a new printer for large signs in the warehouse and that they will be looking for me to run it while also maintaining my normal duties as a graphic designer upstairs. My only reply was a huge boisterous, guttural, laugh which I'm sure was mildly frightening in hindsight. This is unconfirmed at the moment but it wouldn't surprise me one bit. The normal seems to be: why pay someone else to do something when we can just give a current employee two jobs and not pay him/her any more than he/she is currently making? This is why I laughed, this is why it's funny. My job up here takes up my whole eight hours, I rarely take a lunch as it is. And it's funny to me that they think I can be in two physical places at once. Upstairs at my desk, as well as downstairs in the warehouse. Honey, if I could pull that trick off, I sure as shit wouldn't be here and I'd be making a hell of a lot more than I am now.

Needless to say this month has been a bit of a punch in the stomach. Uprooting my routines and pushing everything all out of direction. It's good to have a shake up every now and again but I can't rid this foreboding feeling. The feeling that this is all leading somewhere.

In the foggy distance of the early morning, a dark spire has broken the horizon. It's tenebrous master sits aloft, hands clasped around an aphotic crystal. It's mirrored black eye -- an ominous portent. It can only mean disaster.

Then again, maybe I've just been watching too much Carnivàle.

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KITTAH!!

This was my Valentines wrapping paper, made, by Jess!

I just added the text overlay. All the grunt work is her. Not bad for not knowing a lick about photochop other than what I taught her in passing. Not bad at all.

Fuck, it makes me laugh.

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I'm going to be Thirty.

All week I've been trying to come up with a nice way of saying that. But in reality, there it is. Tomorrow is my birthday. February 3rd. I will be thirty years-old.

On the outside I appear to be handling it pretty well. I don't know, maybe I'm not fooling anyone. Over and over in my head, I keep repeating it, like a psychopath. Thirty, thirty, thirty...

I need to stop thinking about it. It's just a number. In it lies no weight. This is what I tell myself anyways. This is what I say to keep smiling about it.

I've never wanted to be canonically adult but there is a part of me that wants to hurry up with it all. Though still, part of me is grasping to hold on to some youth-like traits and immaturity.

It feels like I'm on a bit of a cusp. To old to be young, too young to be old.

I don't know. This woe-is-me post is pissing me off a bit. It's not like I'm quitting video games or anything that drastic. I'm having a birthday, I'm not CRAZY!

The one thing I have planned to do today -- on my birthday eve -- is to call the bank and get the pay-off amount on my car loan and be done with it. That will be 1 down, 4 to go. (A year early I might add.) My debt should all start falling in line after today. Car down, medical loan next, then credit card #1, and credit card #2. Rounding them out is Student Loan. The first step is going to be done this afternoon and it feels really good.

My plan for today is to not look at all the things I haven't accomplished by thirty, but all the things I have accomplished. And the things I will have accomplished by the time I'm 31. I didn't get to Japan last year, but I am planning to go this year. The goal is to come up with a trip, plan it, buy tickets, and go. I need that under my belt.

Tomorrow I'm having a great party. It's a video game party. The kind of which we used to have. It will be a good time even if not everyone can make it. My main objective is that we all have a good time. There are going to be 2 more 30th birthdays this year in my group of friends, Scott and Jon. I hope that we celebrate each of them to the max that they deserve.

Parting words of wisdom from a soon to be thirty year-old?

Be excellent to each other.

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A Comet Appears

We can blow on our thumbs and posture,
but the lonely is such delicate things,
the wind from a wasp could blow them,
into the sea,
with stones on their feet,
lost to the light and the loving we need.

Still to come,
the worst part and you know it,
there is a numbness,
in your heart and it's growing.

_ The Shins

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Better than indifference.

It was hard not to give up. And I think some part of me wanted you to give up. Then I could go back to feeling like I’ve always felt: not good enough.

Not good enough. In life. As a son to my father. As a friend to my friends. As a lover to my lover.

It’s where I’m comfortable. It’s where I’ve accepted myself.

But you didn’t give up, even after the claims I made, stipulations, and accusations I put on our relationship. The things we said. Even after I tried my hardest to push you away, you stayed. You fought and didn’t quit. You stayed.

We are more than the stupid stuff we buy, the TVs, the meals, the toys and games. More than the places we go, the things we do. The good times we share, the quips we trade back and forth, the pillow talk. We are more than the sum of our parts.

We’re not perfect. But neither is anyone. And sometimes we fight just because feeling pain is better than indifference. Because sometimes our lives get boring, and being in this skin for some 90+ years can get old. But that is the strength of what we have. We are never too far gone that we can’t be hugged, or kissed. Held and loved. When one pushes, the other pulls closer.

Clawing, slobbering and cold, biting and growling in our darkest hour, there we are, standing in the blinding light of an open doorway. Not two silhouettes, but one.

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