Category: personal

christmas parties after the fact

Posted on by admin

Last night, it was time for my yearly dose of post traumatic stress. My wife and daughter still work at the place that nearly put me under, and so, once a year, we trudge out to their Christmas party, always held after Christmas, because the owners are cheap.

Every year, it is the same; there’s a sense of tension, a fear of being pulled back in, a desire to get the fuck away. It’s so synchronous with the short story I’m working on (based on a Tragically Hip song called Get Back Again), about being unable to get past the past, and unable to let things go, that I couldn’t help but laugh (and consider weeping).

I can’t wait until they are retired or have new jobs, so I never have to think about that fucking place again.

I never want to get back anywhere near it.

Target: 200 words
Written: 300 words, short story: Get Back Again

Read: The Power Of Less, Leo Babauta
Comics: The Legend Of Luther Strode 3-6
Music: Y34RZ3R0R3M1X3D, Nine Inch Nails (why must every remix album include one mix that is just complete garbage, but for some reason, goes on for 12-14 minutes?  Does the creator just start with a beat and sit staring at his setup, completely unable to decide what to do next, before going fuck it and turning in a quarter of an hour's worth of pure shit?)

pas(t)sed

Posted on by admin

I don’t like to think about the past. The past has some fun memories, but mostly those only come up with friends (which rarely happens anymore) and usually revolves around someone (as often me as anyone) doing something very stupid.

I admit to missing those days; when memories of fun, dumb things weren’t things to recall, but things actively happening.

I also remember doing things without thought; most of those memories are rife with shame.

Indeed, a look back on the life I’ve had is to see one filled with waste and regret, myopic, self-deceptive and toxic behaviour, stupid decision after stupid decision justified by the flimsiest of ego-driven excuses.

Some would tell me to focus on the positives of the past – the friends, the adventures, the good times. It’s not terrible advice, but I’ve always been poor at connecting and when I was young, I was so delusional with insecurity (and hiding insecurity) that almost everything I did was fraught.

Some would tell me to forget it; I’ve learned from it. Time to move on with new lessons.

This has more value; what’s done is done. The only thing left is to learn.

Still, the sheer embarrassment of it all, the shame of my own stupidity…

These aren’t the things we laugh about. They’re the things we want to leave in the dust, but remain tied to us like anchors in the ground.

Target: 200 words
Written, 666 words, short story: Get Back Again

Read: 5 Steps To Controlling High Blood Pressure, Mayo Clinic
Comics: The Strange Talent Of Luther Strode 1-4
Music: Question The Answers, Mighty Mighty Bosstones (that's fucking soulmusic right there - spaceless intended)