14

Today should have been a Monday. I don't remember last Monday very well, but I believe since it was not worth remembering, that it was not terrible. 

Today wasn't 'terrible'. Actually it was. Terrible has two (probably more, but to my recollection, two) definitions.

1). Terrible- severe; pain, anguish

2.) Terrible- formidably great, extravagant cause.

So it was both examples. It was 'terrible', parse. It was.

I started out actually last night when I was denied this coming weekend's camping trip. And then, I woke up to about 5 missed calls and two voice mails, one of which concerning my mullet and me grooming it, all from my work.

I remember reading and writing down on my little work schedule paper that I worked at 3:30 PM today. Unfortunately, I was mistaken. I was entitled to the 7:00 AM shift. 

Anyways, I woke up naturally I think around 8 AM and came to and called the store, realizing I was nearly one hour late for work. I pulled on my pants and ran out that door, only to run through two red lights and go at least an average of 15 over the speed limit to get to work in about 20 minutes. I clocked in and felt utter embarrassment and terrible humility.

I believe this is a good time to inform you or bring it to my attention again that one of my most terrible (definition 1) phobias and fears is the scenario of being late for work.

Tardiness in all other cases (dinners with friends, social gatherings, church) I can get over and feel confident about myself.

Tardiness in (concerts, movies, and) work settings makes me sick. 

Today as I was driving I teared up and prayed to the God that I could make it through. Anyway, everything turned out fine and it turned out to be a really good day.

I even purchased Pride and Prejudice for THREE DOLLARS. Not just a lousy copy, but a small compact issue with a small biography of Jane Austen! Plus, I bought a copy of Ethan Frome and Summer by Edith Wharton.

EXCITED

plus, I picked up a Moleskine agenda planner (weekly) to hopefully prevent any more mishaps concerning my work.

From now on, I am a punctual, proficient, Proletariat. 

Wonderful.

13

I don't know how I survived my first year of college. At all.

By 'first year...', I mean my dorm room. I've never shared anything more than a bathroom and house with my parents, but then again, I was born into my family. They are all I can remember. I wasn't submitted into an online database which paired myself and my roommate with two other randoms. 

I can remember the first, and mainly, only conversation I had with my suite mates. 

"Alright, I wake up at 9, ____ wakes up at 930. I get first dibs on shower, then him".

I've never shared much more than a pencil which such a territorial human since school, and it took me quite a shock.

I can also remember other times when I would be using the restroom and a shrill and harsh pounding would overcome the bathroom tiles, expecting a short reply of my not so timely existence in the bathroom.

I remember frantically unlocking their door when I was finished, and running out of the room, shutting the door behind me silently, trying to hide my tracks, as if I were escaping a massive, angry, hungry prey.

Oh dear. I also remember having the room to myself sometimes and wanting so bad to turn up my music whilst cleaning in the weekend mornings.

It was a shame that I was an early morning riser, at assuming my 'mates' sleep, I would have to clean silently for a good two or three hours.

I was also repressed musically. I felt almost claustrophobic in my room playing my guitar, of God forbid, singing.

It's interesting and provides a nice story to tell people who know my music that all music recorded within the last year span was indeed done in the constraints of my car; quirky if you will.

Regardless, I did enjoy having my own slice of independence, though sharing it with one other took away a lot of it.

What I'm trying to say is that as long as I have some control over my living arrangements for the rest of my life, I will (hopefully) opt for a room to myself, and a roommate who understands me. That is all.

11

I have so many things, and i think it boils down to:

I need to talk to you.

I don't think it's all need though, I believe it's also a little bit of should, and a dash of want.

I'm getting heavy nostalgia, and I can't help it.

It's sometimes pathetic, but other times acceptable. I don't think you can spend a long time cultivating a relationship only to abruptly stop it. 

There's many things I would like to say. 

There's many things I'm not going to say. 

And there's many things I won't say, not because I can't (as in 'I don't feel like it's my place to say _____"), but can't (as in "I don't know how I can correctly form the words to send my message across").

I wish you could understand, as well as me too.

I also wish I could have been more clear in how I spoke, the diction I chose, and the process of how I did it.

But time is time, and time is all around. I can't change how I said things, nor do I want to.

I really would like to talk, and if you're willing, God-willing, I would like to.

On that note, I think I'm better from my day of heavy nostalgia and constant lurking depression.

It's all good (for the most part).

On another note, I had the reoccurring dream AGAIN. This is the second time in two days.

I looked it up and it came up as something like 'repressed sexual energy/depression/lost in myself/depression'.

That's what you get when you dream about being castrated. And trying to get to a hospital, but people run into you time after time again. 

What does my dream mean?

What do my dreams mean?

My goodness, it's late and I must dream. I'm going to write about dreams in my next letter; also, about the day dream I had whilst driving down Nature's Way about a gang killing me.

I swear I'm an upbeat person.

10

I refuse to believe the idea that I just killed a turtle.

I think I did though.

I was mowing the lawn and saw it sitting there, not moving.

I then took a shovel to it and tried to pick it up. Him up. 

His shell was way softer than I thought it would be, like a stack of wet notebook paper on the top of his body.

He started moving and making that God awful sound of nothing more that I can describe as the sound of  small dry things rubbing up against smaller dry things.

His head and neck stretched out so far out, much more than I thought it could. I thought it was very scary how much it emerged. Gross.

Anyways, made the assumption that if I only took it to the wading pool in my backyard, the one the my dog uses, then he would drink water, become saturated, and maybe also eat the tadpoles. 

I scooped him up and the trip across that 50 yards was hell. He squirmed and the noise kept on playing. A few times I felt repulsed by that animal, but finally.

Finally, I let him walk off the shovel into the pool where he started.

At first, I thought he was playing joyfully, "Finally! What a refreshing time! I have been so hot all day today and now I can play! Thank you Matt!"

But then I realized he was what can only be explained in human speak as, "drowning".

Have you ever seen someone's soul 'searching for air'? I have.

Have you ever seen mountains 'breath'? I think I have.

Have you ever seen a turtle 'breath'? Neither have I, until then.

He was 'gasping'. It was really sad. I checked this morning and he's still not away from the place where I took him out of the pool.

I'm naming him Josephine. 

9

 Oh my, you annoy me.

Not you Sarah Palin. I like you. I think that yes, your actions are persuaded by your underlying political motives, I can't stand but liking you. Maybe it's your personality...

Not you Al Gore. Even though I don't really agree with you on a lot. I'm glad you brought light the issue of self-control and the environment, showing human beings that they need to control themselves and PRACTICE SELF CONTROL. I'm also glad that I know enough to understand that your 'truth' isn't so honest. But honestly, I don't care.

Not you crazy racist bigots. I wish you could honestly take a look around and see that the stresses you're putting on yourself are so stupid, and insignificant to the entire road and integrity of humanity.

Not you former Uncle Paul. Even though I had very, very little respect for you (hitting your wife, ignoring your kids, being a lazy douche bag), I still know you have the potential to turn your life around.

Not you Emily Dodenhoff, of whom I have a supreme amount of respect for. Always.

Not you Kimya Dawson, who I think is beautiful.

Not you Mom.

Or Dad.

But YOU. I'm not going to write your name here.

But please know what you're doing, how it annoys me, and how you need to change.

You need to change.

Please.

I will leave you with this quote ladies, from a band I like a lot right now.

Now it's the precious summertime
Hand in pocket
Bright light
Wild Tigers I Have Known
They send me down
Messin' around 

8

I don't know how you can make me so mad.

I don't understand how people can let you down so bad.

Seriously. When you laugh in my face about my convictions, and when you do whatever your heart desires without consequence, it kills me.

It kills me.

I'm past the part where I'm amused about it all, where I want you to fail, but now I can't stand seeing you in this decay.

Both of the problem. It has two parts.

|Problem A:

You told me you wanted to be held accountable and you wanted to be genuine.

I don't know how this is appropriate. 

I've seen this happen with the last one. Come on, you are being 'that guy'.

You also said you didn't want to be a 'douche bag' anymore. I'm sorry if this seems harsh but you're not heading in the right direction. You using, not giving. You need to get a different mindset. You need to grow! You need to be alone! bored!

Yes! It's very important to be bored! You don't know what it's like to be bored! Being isolated is so important! You can grow! 

I know you've had problems in the past with being by yourself, and really getting into depression, but it's imperative you fix this on your own.

I still love you and I hope you can understand that.

|Problem B:

You're not over him.

You're distracting yourself to not deal with it. 

You were on the right track! Until you fell into it.

I know it might be attractive, funny, and you can connect on so many levels, but it also did this exactly for the last one.

Almost like an agenda; get to 'know', share music, share time, get to know family, physical, drop-off.

It's sickening. 

You're being used, but don't tell me I told you.

I love you too. Get through this. Stand up for yourself.

Be honest and realized where you should be.

Be genuine, forget trendy.