When Black Widow died, I replaced her with a HP Pavilion 6200 or something another along those lines. I loved typing on that machine’s keyboard and the price to features/functionality couldn’t be beat. My only gripe with that machine was the video–DVDs were more compressed when viewing than they were on the disc because the card could keep up or keep cool. Some of the “function keys” on the built in touch strip across the top were annoying, but overall, it was a great laptop for its time. Hell, it even got me up to speed at my job in record time.

Continue reading →

I live alone and have very few friends. This is mostly by choice; I don’t get out all that often and when I do go out, I do my business and get back.

In what seems like ancient history, I took the trust of someone that lead me to believe that we were close and crushed it because I could. I was needy and wasn’t getting the attention that I needed.

Because I thought I had to test them, I tried to convince a friend to play along. He refused. He must have been just as clueless about how the other person really felt, but I thought he had inside information. He did help drive me to certain conclusions. Maybe it was just because I was a depressive fuck and he was sick and tired of me being a depressive fuck. He nurtured the thing that gave me hope and blew my head up to the size of a Stewie’s in the Macy’s Day Parade.

To me it was a way of finding out what they really thought of me. I’ve found that I’m a really insecure person when it comes to relationships. I over-think everything. I have to analyze each word, each action, each touch–or lack thereof–and find meaning. I’m sure this comes from too many years of studying film.

I grew up in a very tight Christian home. I never interacted with girls as I was growing up; it was against the rules.

I never learned to compromise either. When the boys left, I still had two younger siblings. My sister and I were never close, though I think we always both secretly want to be. Occasionally, I’ll fantasize about a world where we get along famously, have lots of fun together and confide in one another.

But I’m abrasive. I was taught not to accept no for an answer.

When it comes to relationships, I’ve learned that the thing that turns me on is the hunt. I don’t hunt, but I enjoy working towards being someone’s idol. I’m not afraid to show my humanity–God knows I make mistakes–but as soon as I’ve gotten what I want, I loose interest.

I want someone that will accept me for who I am and not ask questions. I want someone who will not only put her thumb in my back and push me to be the best that I can be but who will also cut me the slack and give me the attention that I need. I want someone I can show off, not just physically, but mentally too. If I can’t have a conversation with her, what’s the point.

I respect a person’s privacy and the need for some alone time. I love to learn and want to be taught new things, but I have to be the one in charge. I like spontaneity but hate surprises.

The one thing I’ve never learned how to do is trust. Hell, I can’t even trust my blog. I trust what co-workers and friends tell me because I can verify it. Once I’ve known a person long enough, I can trust them as a confident and that they will keep their word and not screw me over.

Time heals all. Relationships take time and are formed when you’re not looking for them. But when you meet someone under less then ideal circumstances and it turns out to be a good thing, but something you can’t write home about, what do you do, especially if it’s unexpectedly dumped in your lap? You start to wonder if calling out of work was what you were supposed to do–how else could these events transpire?

But you can’t trust. And you make a mistake. You make accusations because you can’t trust and you cant remember where you put something. Then you find it and call to apologize. You realize that you’re the one friend in the world that this person has and you just fucked that up. But you don’t feel anything; you just know you fucked up. You feel bad about fucking up like that and what the effects might be on the other person, but you feel nothing. They’re expendable. You don’t know them. And then you realize that you probably just fucked up the chance of a lifetime. You hate yourself for making such a stupid mistake, but you don’t beat yourself up about it.

Life never works out the way you want it to.

This cartoon says it all…