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.
Saturday, June 7
Sunday, June 1
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...
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...
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