I'm Sorry, No I'm Not, Wait...

It's so easy to say you're sorry.Trust me, this is coming from a professional. As a child I had a hard time saying those words. I would refuse. My mother would threaten me with punishments. My response? No response at all. I would sit in silence refusing to offer an apology. I would sit in silence quietly out of the fear that if I spoke, I might accidently let those words slip out. I could not let that happen. There I was in silence because I was that headstrong.

I still am that headstrong. But I like to believe I have more maturity about it. Now I'll say I'm sorry, but have my fingers crossed behind my back. They will never get me. Seriously though, I am confortable with apologizing these days. It doesn't pain me to say "I'm sorry". I almost feel as if I'm too comfortable with it. Like I am so fine with saying it that I say it when I'm not in the wrong, or just to clear the air.

"Did you see that girl in those ridiculous shoes?!"

"I'm sorry."

Maybe it has become my safe word. Tie me with your rope and chains, beat me with your whips. But when it becomes too much I'll scream "sorry". I think that would change the mood just a bit. It would go from kinky to therapy in two seconds flat. It would go from "sit on my face" to "lie on my couch" before I could repeat myself.

What has brought this issue to my attention is the memory issues. OThers have memories of me apologizing to things I do not remember apologizing for. I still think they are lieing, but let us assume for a moment that they are not. Why would I not remember apologizing? How could this slip my mind? Did I really just blurt it out? Did they really just accept it? Are they stupid? I'm sorry.....fuck.

I think I have come to realize I apologize too much these days. This insanity must stop. I think I shall put a limit on how many time I may apologize in a day. I just hope I do not use them all up and then run over a baby.

"You ran over my BABY!!!"

"I know......oops......?"

Now this does not mean you should start questioning if my apologies have been sincere. That is unless one of the following apply:
a) My eyes were rolled in the back of my head.
b) You were naked.
c) Politics were involved.
d) I ran over your baby.
e) You names happens to be Tyler.
f) I commented on your fake Fendi.
g) You previously were my roommate.
If any of the above apply, you might have something to be concerned about.Other than that, I meant it, sort of....

This is why I believe when apologizing, an act should happen as well. When you aplogize, do something kind as if to say "hey, I really mean it". Bake them cookies, wash their care, watch them shower, something, just as to solidify the apology. And plus, if you do some form of action, you are bound to remember the apology. Or atleast that is what I am hoping for.

Now excuse me, I owe an apology the the driver of the public bus I took this morning, which means I need to make a run the the Adult Shop.

Toodles.

Follow The Leader.

It has been a while hasn't it? I have this issue with "following through". It's something I just can not seem to grasp. How does one do this? How does one make this commitment to finish the job? My problem isn't with finishing a job. My problem is with finishing multiple jobs. Speaking of problems, I also tend to start more projects than I can handle. For example this past April/early May I had a full plate.

1. Make new garments for a local fashion show. Do not get this confused though. Bu fashion show, I do not literally mean a fashion show. I mean locals putting denim skirts on 5 foot girls with braces and local boutiques put what they call "couture" on a runway made of plywood and painted green. This runway might also be a stage extension for the local high school. You really know where the fashion show stands when you have a multi-colored ball hanging above the "runway" shining bright, colorful lights in all directions. It hurts me to participate in these things. But I have nothing else locally. So me and my best friend Shirley (thats what I call my peach vodka/peach Fresca) take it on.
2. It also happens that I did make up and hair for this show. That made me feel somewhat better. Atleast I knew some older ladies with blue hair and tattooed eyebrows would not be "fixing up" these girls. I had fun. People had no clue what was going on. Imagine a 13 year old girl with blonde hair that looked like cotton candy on top of her head. Then, a big green hand print on the side of her face. How did it get there? I slapped the bitch. It's how I get out my fustration, and they think it's art. It works.
3. I took on making an art piece for a local exhibit. I must tell you, as I forgot to mention before, I did all of this for free. Every last thing. I can't help it. I get bored, they do not offer money, I'm easy. There you have it, the life of Cody.
4. I was also suppose to be in the middle or a job search, trying to fix my car, get my cell phone situation fixed, pay a ticket I forgot about, help my mother (as she has relocated to this region and happens to be bipolar/schitzo... and a lesbian)., and mutliple other small task.

As I am sure I have mentioned before, I have ADHD. I have been medicated for a long time now. For some reason though, the Adderal company, and my doctor like to fuck with my meds and laugh at me as they watch me sweat. I don't get it.

Things are just now starting to settle down for me. I like it, but I don't. I'm ready to take on some more shit and not finish it. It's better that way. Because if I finish what I started and don't like it, then all I can do it blame myself. If I never finish it, I can blame time.

Fuck you time.

As I mentioned earlier my mother relocated to this region. About 3 years ago, after graduating high school, I relocated from Louisiana to Oregon, to get away from my family. Not because I hate them, but because we are all crazy. When you have a bunch of crazies in a 500 mile radius, it's not good. So I ran away fast. Well, my mother came to vitist me last August. I thought it would be good as I had not seen her in 2 years. It turned out fine.

She moved here in November. Like I said, I do not hate my family, and I certianly do not hate my mother. But I love her from a distance. That distance is gone. I have said I am clingy. My mother fly paper. Seriously:

*Phone rings*
myself: hello.
Mother: What are you doing?
myself: try to get some things done
Mother: like what?
myself: well, I'm suppose to be fin....
Mother: I have some things I need to finish too I could use your help on. Could I come over and use your computer? Could you help me with that? I hate them computers. They never work. And while I'm over there we could have lunch and talk. I've been needing to talk to you. I'm not trying to lecture you, but I think you need to change some things. Also, I'm not sure I like that boy who is hanging around there. Oh, and later I need to wipe my ass....

Then she comes over, notice I never invited her, and continues to contaminate. We have all seen Golden Girls. We all love Sophia... on television. But imagine this is your mother, but 5'10", a heavy southern accent, deep voice, and an ex-boxer (she won the Little Rock, AR Toughwoman boxing title 7 years in a row). Also, as I mentioned before, is bipolar/schitzo, and like Sophia, does not know how to censor herself.

Can you see why I ran away?

I love her, I really do....

But as I was saying, I have a hard time following through. I get sidetracked. I am getting sidetracked right now. But it is legitimate. A boy with a big penis wants to come over. That is always worth getting sidetracked for...

Emptying It All Out.

I can't believe I was blind and dense enough to lose the best thing that ever happened to me. But what is even more unfathomable is how I was blind and dense enough to think I could ever have it back.Why did I destroy this? Why couldn't I realize a the time what I had? Was I arrogant enough to think I was the best thing that ever happened to him and not realize it was the other way around? Was I the one who was actually too closed off to let him in?

I admit I had huge trust issues that where not caused by him. I tried to protect myself from someone who wasn't trying to hurt me. I was always questioning because I knew he was trying to tear me down. It hurts so bad to look back on that because I realize how insane I was. I can see now that I was the one with walls. I thought we had crossed that barrier and where working on his. But it is obvious that I still had many of my own to worry about.

Why is it so easy to see the flaws in others before we see the flaws in our self? When I look at someone and judge them, I compare them to myself.

"I don't like this person because they are too self centered. Wait...that is because I don't like that in myself."

Yet, for some reason, I was not able to do this with him. I couldn't look at him and see my own flaws.

I think I've made the right decision. I've cut him loose from my insanity. For both of us. I am clearly making life difficult for him. When I'm not around him, I can see us as "just friends". I can see him dating other people. But when I am close to him, I see his corky habits. I see his random sense of humor. I see how he is entertained by the slightest thing. I see the person I've dreamed about. Then it kicks in. I want him. I have to have him. Then I get jealous. I want to be around him because he is an amazing person. But I know I can't because I still love him. So it is time to let go. I can't hold on anymore because it is only making the bad taste in his mouth worse. The harder I try, the hard I fall. I'm tired of being picked back up again. It's wearing on me also.

I haven't eaten in four days. Okay, so a granola bar, and three RITZ crackers last night, and some Oreo's the other night. Sadly, my nerves are shot, so they all came back up anyway. I can't sleep at night because my mind won't stop. In the past 4 days I have probably gotten a total of 12 hours of sleep. I can't function at work. I can't even put together sentences properly when talking. I pause trying to think of the most simple words like "that" and "what".

Maybe this truly is what I need. It's just time to myself to understand me. Just like checking the oil in my car, you need to do this often. And just like the oil in my car, I forget to check it, and then everything blows up.

Anyone who is to have Lucas Charley as a friend has been granted the best gift possible. Anyone lucky enough to have Lucas as more better realize what they have. Do not take him for granted. Do not ever doubt him. He is the most honest person I know. Do not worry about being hurt. He will try his hardest not to damage you. And please, do not play games with him. I have done that enough already. He is sensitive to other, caring, intelligent, beautiful, and profound. Do not hurt him. And this is a warning for your own health. Because if you hurt him, I will come after you. I am from the south, and we do fight dirty. It doesn't help that I'm also a tad bit crazy with a dash of impulsive behavior. So you never know with me. But to make it clear, if you hurt him, I will be at your doorstep.

This is my true confession. I realize that it was me. I realize the mistakes I made. I can see that now. I am sorry. I am sorry to Lucas, I am sorry to anyone effected, and I am sorry to myself. Because in the long run, I ended up losing the most.

Reflections

I'm watching Margaret Cho's stand-up DVD I'm The One That I Want and it got me to think about myself. Like I don't do that enough already. But really, I started thinking a little more instead of my usually surface skimming that gets me no where.

When it comes to rules and boundaries I tend to get claustrophobic. I just don't follow well. It's like telling a blind kid to color inside the lines. It's nearly impossible.

I live in an apartment, as most people my age do. I have the same rules as most apartments. No painting, no holes in the walls, no re-flooring (This was added as I asked since the flooring is a dark brown carpet), etc. Well I tend to be artistic and feel that I need somewhere I can just let it out.

So I have a wall. It's in my living room. It's a decent size. It is completely covered in posters, photos, random quotes, condoms, ads from Germany, hotel room cards, etc. I find it beautiful, like a years worth of living.

It is held up mostly with staples. There is some tape, thumb tacks, and glue also, but mostly staples. That is alot of staples.

I'm not sure what would happen if my landlord decided to take a tour of my apartment. I would probably shit myself. I could just imagine a surprise visit. I would probably start rambling about how I found it and it wasn't me.

"Seriously, I was cleaning one day and was scrubbing REALLY hard! I mean, white was coming off everywhere. Then I saw pictures coming through so I kept going. This was there. I don't have a clue where it came from. You should talk to your repair men about this. It looks like they just painted over it. Besides, that wall was made by a faggot. I ain't no faggot. Ignore those picture in the bottom left...."

I would be saying this while shoving a hand down my pants, itching my arm pit, and spitting.

That's what happens when I'm put on the spot. These outlandish things just flow from my mouth.

Boss: Why are you late?
Myself: There was road construction in front of my apartment. Then some homeless guy walked in from of a cement truck. The driver slammed on the brakes which caused the cement barrel lever to come loose. It tipped over and started spilling on the brand new BMW behind him. The homeless man was apparently drunk because he wobbled over to the BMW and asked for change while the woman was screaming about being in labor. I had no clue what to do. Luckily, I took those classes on delivering babies and cement clean up, so it was all taken care of. But I know, that was irresponsible, I should have come straight to work. I'll know better next time....

But back to boundaries and rules. They are not for me. Even with relationships. I know nothing about these so called boundaries. On first dates I will poke his penis while at IHOP. I move across the country for boys I meet online. We could mention that "online" is code for Myspace, but that would make me look even more sad and pathetic.

I also tend to be clingy. So when one is clingy, one doesn't respect boundaries. One doesn't even know they exist. Boundaries to a clingy person are like car seat manuals to Britney Spears. They might as well be in Portuguese because you know the bitch isn't reading them. No see, boundaries to me are far too confining. But if you do have boundaries, you best know that my ass will be inside your boundaries too.

I sit here and admits these faults. I realize this. But don't tell me I don't know rules or boundaries. Don't punish me for not following them either. Do not write me a ticket. So what? I barely ran that red light! I will bitch and complain about it until it goes away. And then when it does, I will tell you how screwed up the it is that it happened in the first place. Don't tell me I complain too much.

Oh no. Do not do that.

I will go Naomi Campbell crazy on your ass. But it won't be a dainty little cell phone coming at your head.

No.

I will be throwing a telephone booth in your direction. Because, not only do I not understand rules and boundaries, I also do not like to be corrected.

I have also been told I can be a tad bit crazy. But I just blame that on my gayness...

This Was Suppose To Sky Rocket You Again? Bitch Please....

What is this bullshit? What, you thought you could half ass your performance and make a comeback?

You stupid fuck.

You're not fat, but you are no Naomi Campbell and your ass should not be up on stage in underwear.

I mean come on, you bend and it causes your skin to fold 5 times.

And what is with your cheap ass weaves?! You spend assloads on bullshit, but you go to the "Buy one get one free" bin at Sally's Hair Supply for that shit on your head. I can SEE where the fake is attached. I can literally SEE it.

You had no facial expressions. You just stood there and moved when you were supposed to. You reminded me of the dance team at my high school. They all new their dance moves too well. There for they just did it to get it over with.

What's your rush bitch? This is were you get your money. And from this performance I wouldn't give you a nickel.


The whole world knows you lip sync. It's not a secret. But what the fucking hell was that?! The key line in you whole fucking song is:

"It's Britney, Bitch."

You can't even hit that?!

I could hit that! I could hit that like JayZ on Beyonce.

You are a failure. You are washed up. Sure, I am still in love with your music. But could you get someone else to lip sync along to in from now on? I would much rather see someone who is excited to do what they are doing on stage, or in the music videos.

What a disappointment.

That was your chance and you blew it. You threw that chance away almost as fast as everyone has thrown away their hope in you.

God, you fucked-up dillusional failure! Could you do one or the other?

A) Stick around and perform like you use to. Be what you use to be. Be amazing and perfect at what you do.

B) Go away. You've already ruined everything you had. Nobody will ever remember you for the magic, but only for the train wreck you are. So stop now before you do even more damage, if that is even possible. And fuck, I am tired of seeing/hearing/reading about your fuck ups! Just GO THE FUCK AWAY!



Stupid cunt.

This Is What You Find When Browsing Others.....

I was browsing a friend's blog when I came across this:

These are guidelines that I try to use to live my life:

Our lives are only minuscule if we live for ourselves; our lives become grandiose when we live for others.

No one is ever wrong unless they feel they are right. They are even more wrong when they feel others must believe the same.

Contemplate.

Sympathy and empathy are society’s most powerful tools.

Respect what you have. Enjoy what you’re doing.

Earth is our home… and we are messy children.

Speak your mind.

When you look at another person, it is not someone else that you are seeing. It is a reflection of another aspect of yourself.

Right or wrong does not matter, it’s learning you could do it different.

Live with honesty

The surest way of hurting yourself is through hurting others.

When someone shares a secret with you and it hurts you, don’t take your anger out on them. Instead, imagine how hard it would be for you to be honest and how you would hope the other person would act. The idea inside a secret will exist whether you know of it’s existence or not. I will always rejoice when honesty is revealed regardless of how jagged the truth is.


I happen to disagree with most of these. Why? This is what I do.


"Our lives are only minuscule if we live for ourselves; our lives become grandiose when we live for others."

I find this horribly wrong. You should always live for yourself first. Otherwise you will never be happy as you are always pleasing others. You will compromise yourself for others, and nothing ever comes good from that.



"No one is ever wrong unless they feel they are right. They are even more wrong when they feel others must believe the same. "

If you do not feel you are right, then you feel you are wrong. If you always feel you are wrong, then how do you know which direction to go? I guess if you are living for others, you just follow them. This is beginning to sound like a manual for the "slackers" and "tag-alongs"....

"contemplate"

I agree. This is good. But you can't always do this. Sometimes you have to make hasty decisions. Sometimes it is required. I highly doubt when your boss ask you a question in a board meeting and you sit there with this look on you face of being completely "blank", he is going to be okay with you "contemplating".


"Speak your mind. "

I agree fully. This is be the 11th Commandment.



"When you look at another person, it is not someone else that you are seeing. It is a reflection of another aspect of yourself"

This annoys me. Not because it is not true. No, because it is. When Someone "bothers" me, or I dislike them, the first thing I do is compare them to myself. It's not a choice, it's a reaction. It's what my mind does automatically. Then I realize, the annoyance in this person is an annoyance I have with myself. I hate that because it makes it hard for me to criticize....



So I guess the whole thing isn't completely horrible. But those core things bother me. Especially the starting statement. But when comparing this to my friend, who happens to be my ex, it makes complete sense as to who he is. Which causes more confusion to why I spent a year and a half on him....

Annotations of Myself.

This is my first post. What to say.....

I've wanted to start a blog on blogger for a long time now. It's time to wean myself from the demons known as "myspace.com".

So what do I write about? What do I say? Should I talk about myself, or is that too selfish? Well I guess I'm selfish. This is my blog. This is getting off to a rough start. I'm just going to jump into this lake feet first and naked. Let's go....

So my name is Cody. I am 20 and moved to Oregon from Louisiana almost 2 years go. I moved for myself, but moved to Oregon for someone else. Was this a stupid decision? Maybe, but I like to think you can make anything into a positive. It is true that I tend to make it into a negative. But we will get to that later. Lets start at the beginning.

My mother moved around alot during my first 18 years. Between Kindergarten and my senior year I had moved 16 times. Is this too early? Let's skip ahead to....now?

So I'm an aspiring fashion designer. Don't laugh, I'm serious. It's not a dream, it's a goal, and I will get there one day. But right now I'm more worried about how I am getting to work tomorrow as my car broke down.

I drive a 1979 Mercedes Benz 300SD Turbodiesel Sedan. It is silver, 4 door, has a sunroof (That does not work), and is named Bertrice. I apparently ran it out of oil. I haven't the slightest clue as to what is under the hood of a vehicle. My mother did all of that before I moved away. Yes, my mother was a mechanic, a carpenter, and a boxer. My mother is amazing. She now lives in Arkansas were she does not work. They have decided she is Bipolar Schizophrenic. So she now lives off the government because she cannot hold a job. I still believe she is a beautiful person. She is just gifted.....

I moved to Oregon for a boy. A boy who I fell madly in love with. A boy who broke my heart. A boy who just doesn't understand. So now I am stuck here, in Oregon, because of financial reasons. Yes, and aspiring fashion designer from Louisiana.....moved to Oregon. It doesn't make since, I know. But my reasoning was, I either need to be on the west or east coast for fashion design. So I thought this was a step and later I would easily move down to L.A.

It's not so easy. I love when I assume and no one else can tell me anything. I'm stubborn, and because of that I fuck myself over.

I have now been in Oregon for almost 2 years. Two long years. Especially this last one.

So this sounds depressing. I'm not a depressed person. I promise. I'm a fun person. I tend to be cynical, but I'm not a downer. I like to keep my head up so that I can see something good and bring it down. That's what I do. That's who I am.

I don't like describing or explaining myself in one entry. I like to think there is more to myself than that. I like to analyze as I go. That's what I do. That's who I am.

Now that the first entry is out of the way, I can get on to bigger and better things. Like why I am currently working two jobs, with one of them being customer service at fucking Petsmart. Or why the hell Britney Spears wanted to go and shit on anything she ever had. And maybe I will talk a little more about my spectacular mother and share some life experiences. Like the time she decided I needed to learn how to drive.

I was 8.

I learned.

I love her, I really do.



-Cody