I hear it all the time, in sitcoms, conversations and comedy bits. They all make reference to "that bitch," the evil chick who broke the poor guys heart.
I never believed it. I always thought it was just an urban legend. I was under the impression that the guy was always the one to break her heart. Why? Because I had the greatest girl in the world, or so I thought.
I lied, I cheated, I hurt her so much, but she always came back. Finally came the straw that broke the camel's back. Turned out I was the camel, not her.
She broke up with me, but she was the one begging for me to come back. That's the kind of girl she was. I didn't deserve her, I never did. I tried to tell her that all the time. But her persistent could only mean one thing, true love.
I never had to do anything special, just be me, and she loved every minute of it. She didn't mind all of my flaws, looked beyond my mistakes, and saw more potential in me than I ever did.
I pushed her away on numerous occasions, but this one finally took. She didn't go without a fight, but when she finally did, I was the one on my knees begging for mercy.
After four years, I should have been on my knees with a ring in my hand, but things never end up the way you expect them to. And unfortunately, people are sometimes the same way.
I have never had my heart broken, let alone the slow and painful way. I suppose I've been asking for it all along.
Just when you think you've got something all figured out...
Love is a bitch.
Tuesday, March 24, 2009
Monday, March 23, 2009
Blah, blah, blah... (gotta start somewhere)
Being underemployed, broke, single and uninsured sure does suck.
I am almost out of things to sell. (My organs go next.)
I went from being single, to getting back with my ex, to being single once again, to kinda not knowing what was going on, then losing not only my girlfriend, but our friendship as well, and finally back to complicated... all in the course of a week. (Even Facebook couldn't keep up.)
I went to fill a prescription for much much needed anti-depressants/anxiety meds today, only to realize shit, I have no insurance!
I am working this bull shit part-time jobs that are just getting me by. Meanwhile I'm so far behind I don't know when I'll ever catch up...
Oh and on top of all that I was arrested a couple weeks ago on a warrant, had to pay $2,000 bail and have to go to court next week in Cook county. The suburbs just won't let me be.
But enough about that. Maybe we'll get back to it later.
I don't think anybody has been reading the blog lately, but then again, no one has really been writing it either. My short entries via text/picture message are hardly worth taking a look at. But the obvious reason for this stems from the above bull shit. I have hardly been in the mood to think, let alone write about anything worthwhile. But if I don't at least try to write, it's not going to get any easier. And for the past 6+ months, this has been one outlet I can really count on for getting out my angst, emotion, and pent up frustration. And supposedly a handful of you enjoy reading about it. (Sick fuckers!)
Just kidding of course, I heart my readers. I hope I didn't lose any of you in the hiatus.
The silver lining (if you can even call it that), is that I'm not turning to alcohol for comfort, I have managed to keep a level head without the dependency of prescription drugs and I have more than just a roof over my head, clothes on my back and food on the table - I have an understanding new roommate who has been in my shoes and knows what I'm going through, awesome friends and family who are more than willing to help out when and where they can, and two puppies who have a keen sense of knowing when I need my face licked. (They're actually my roommate Jim's pups which is even more awesome because I'm not really responsible for them - though I do what I can to clean up piss and shit stains around the house.)
While it may sound like things are okay right now, every day is a battle. It's tough to get out of bed in the morning (or afternoon) most days. The relationship (or lack thereof) with the ex (and yes, that's what I'll be referring to you to until you make a decision) is still completely up in the air, and there is nothing I can do about it. And the job search is endless. If anyone has any doubts about the state of the economy, just listen up: Since I was 15 years old I have held a job, full-time since 18, or chosen to be on SEASONAL unemployment (due to the nature of the job). And even while on unemployment I worked part-time delivering pizzas to pay the bills. I have applied to, nearly a hundred employers, and heard back from a total of three, all part-time minimum wage positions. It's bad.
All of this, more than anything - beyond frustration, anger and cynicism - bores the shit out of me. Hence, nothing worthwhile to write about. I'm guessing reading about it can't be much more entertaining. So let's move on.
At least this past weekend wasn't so dull. With Jim leaving for a few days, and spring break starting down here, I was sure I would have absolutely nothing to do. Then Thursday night I got a text from my friend El, asking if I wanted to go drink and barbecue on her Mom's farm for a couple of days. While it was no Aruba or Miami (if you know me, you know I'm no fan anyhow), it was a much needed change of pace and scenery. We drove out to this beautiful farmhouse on like 40 acres, just outside of Princeton, Illinois. We grilled and chilled, canoed, fished, and wrangled goats (hence the pic from my previous entry). It was fun, and more importantly, relaxing. I kind of wish I could go back by myself and just escape for awhile, clear my head some more, and write.
But here I am, back in good, old Champaign, trying, perhaps too hard.
I am almost out of things to sell. (My organs go next.)
I went from being single, to getting back with my ex, to being single once again, to kinda not knowing what was going on, then losing not only my girlfriend, but our friendship as well, and finally back to complicated... all in the course of a week. (Even Facebook couldn't keep up.)
I went to fill a prescription for much much needed anti-depressants/anxiety meds today, only to realize shit, I have no insurance!
I am working this bull shit part-time jobs that are just getting me by. Meanwhile I'm so far behind I don't know when I'll ever catch up...
Oh and on top of all that I was arrested a couple weeks ago on a warrant, had to pay $2,000 bail and have to go to court next week in Cook county. The suburbs just won't let me be.
But enough about that. Maybe we'll get back to it later.
I don't think anybody has been reading the blog lately, but then again, no one has really been writing it either. My short entries via text/picture message are hardly worth taking a look at. But the obvious reason for this stems from the above bull shit. I have hardly been in the mood to think, let alone write about anything worthwhile. But if I don't at least try to write, it's not going to get any easier. And for the past 6+ months, this has been one outlet I can really count on for getting out my angst, emotion, and pent up frustration. And supposedly a handful of you enjoy reading about it. (Sick fuckers!)
Just kidding of course, I heart my readers. I hope I didn't lose any of you in the hiatus.
The silver lining (if you can even call it that), is that I'm not turning to alcohol for comfort, I have managed to keep a level head without the dependency of prescription drugs and I have more than just a roof over my head, clothes on my back and food on the table - I have an understanding new roommate who has been in my shoes and knows what I'm going through, awesome friends and family who are more than willing to help out when and where they can, and two puppies who have a keen sense of knowing when I need my face licked. (They're actually my roommate Jim's pups which is even more awesome because I'm not really responsible for them - though I do what I can to clean up piss and shit stains around the house.)
While it may sound like things are okay right now, every day is a battle. It's tough to get out of bed in the morning (or afternoon) most days. The relationship (or lack thereof) with the ex (and yes, that's what I'll be referring to you to until you make a decision) is still completely up in the air, and there is nothing I can do about it. And the job search is endless. If anyone has any doubts about the state of the economy, just listen up: Since I was 15 years old I have held a job, full-time since 18, or chosen to be on SEASONAL unemployment (due to the nature of the job). And even while on unemployment I worked part-time delivering pizzas to pay the bills. I have applied to, nearly a hundred employers, and heard back from a total of three, all part-time minimum wage positions. It's bad.
All of this, more than anything - beyond frustration, anger and cynicism - bores the shit out of me. Hence, nothing worthwhile to write about. I'm guessing reading about it can't be much more entertaining. So let's move on.
At least this past weekend wasn't so dull. With Jim leaving for a few days, and spring break starting down here, I was sure I would have absolutely nothing to do. Then Thursday night I got a text from my friend El, asking if I wanted to go drink and barbecue on her Mom's farm for a couple of days. While it was no Aruba or Miami (if you know me, you know I'm no fan anyhow), it was a much needed change of pace and scenery. We drove out to this beautiful farmhouse on like 40 acres, just outside of Princeton, Illinois. We grilled and chilled, canoed, fished, and wrangled goats (hence the pic from my previous entry). It was fun, and more importantly, relaxing. I kind of wish I could go back by myself and just escape for awhile, clear my head some more, and write.
But here I am, back in good, old Champaign, trying, perhaps too hard.
Sunday, March 22, 2009
The Goat is not dead. . .
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Wednesday, March 18, 2009
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Monday, March 16, 2009
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Monday, March 9, 2009
One Night in County Jail...
So I was driving to work early Friday morning (even before the earliest of unofficial-risers) when I was pulled over by the Champaign Police.
No worries - I had given myself plenty of time to get to the News Gazette by 3AM. Well, the cop informed me that my registration (license plate) light was out. Just had to write me a warning and I'd be on my way.
Five minutes passed, I began to feel a bit of anxiety. Then another squad pulled up behind the CPD SUV. The anxiety quickly turned into a mild panic attack.
I couldn't figure out why I was still waiting, as ten minutes turned into 15, and 15 into nearly 30, before the cop returned to my car, asking me to step out. By now, my heart rate was three times what it was a half hour prior.
"You have a warrant," officer friendly stated as he cuffed my hands behind my back.
"For what?!" I quickly replied in astonishment.
"Violation of terms of supervision for a DUI arrest."
Yes, I had been arrested on DUI charges back in August, but had since been to court, plead guilty, and received my sentence - which to my knowledge I have complied with 100%.
I asked the cop what that meant. Of course he didn't know.
"Did you have another DUI arrest?"
I hadn't even been pulled over since August.
"Well, it says the warrant was issued December 4."
Well, that's news to me!
Shouldn't I have been informed of this at some point? Or do they just let us "criminals" roam the streets, wanted, until we happen to have a registration light out?
Last month I went to the DMV to renew my license. No one there said anything. I have had background checks for two jobs since then, both showed a clean record. WTF!?
The arresting officer failed to read me any rights, answer any questions, and basically ignored the fact that I was having a panic attack and refused me my medication. He and his cop buddy made sure to search my vehicle for anything illegal, and thankfully grabbed my cell but "forgot" my wallet which lie on the passenger seat right next to my phone.
At no point between being pulled over and released nearly five hours later that morning, was I ever informed of any rights, allowed any medication, an attorney, food or water. When they put me in a cell I finally got a chance to piss. Thankfully they allowed a phone call, but because it was "long distance" (to my Mom's cell in the suburbs), I was allowed to "bend the rules" (which they "don't do for everybody") and call her from my cell and give her the number of the Champaign County Jail to call back "in like fifteen, twenty minutes."
Once I removed every article of clothing potentially harmful to me or my cellmates (including turning my socks inside out...?), answered a bunch of ridiculous questions about my medical history, religious preferences, etc. (which made no sense because I was never allowed medical treatment, nor prayer/spiritual time), and turned over all of my belongings, I was allowed to talk to my mother, who was on hold.
"I apparently violated my supervision. I'm having a panic attack and they won't give me my meds..." I said to her as I trembled.
She was in a daze (understandably, to be woken up at 4AM), but suddenly came to when I mentioned the $20,000 bond!!! Which, if you're not familiar with how bail works, equals $2,000 to get out of jail or Cook County would come get me within 24 hours.
That was another question the idiots couldn't answer: why twenty grand? My best guess is that it's Cook County, because for a first time offender at minimal risk, I think that's a bit excessive... isn't there an amendment regarding that?
At this point, I'm tired, confused and angry. They can't figure out what's going on. Something about having to contact Cook and get the case number. Meanwhile I'm sitting on the phone with my Mom who is losing patience, and wants to call back later, once they can provide her with the number for the third-party credit card bail agent (who by the way charges an 8% fee).
It's about 5:30AM and I've been in and out of a cell about three times. They inform me that the bail has come through, and they are once again waiting on Cook to respond. Mug shot, fingerprints, back in the cell...
I see an officer grab my bag of belongings at nearly 7AM. Then, a group of female inmates is brought in, and he drops my things and attends to them.
Another thirty minutes pass as I wait in the cell. Finally he opens the door and lets me out. By the time I'm released and given back my stuff, along with an April 2nd Cook County court date, it's almost 8AM and I light up a cigarette and call for a ride back home. I've missed my overnight shift, am running on about two hours sleep in the last 48 hour period, and still have no clue what I did wrong to end up in a cell with a bunch of Chris Browns and Rod Blagos.
My car was impounded. I had expired registration as well, which meant I had to pay for that and show proof to the CPD before getting my car out of the impound in Urbana. In other words, my first paycheck was gone in one day. Not to mention, I missed another work shift, spending my whole day running back and forth around town dealing with the bureaucratic nonsense of the Illinois government.
So, here I am again, flat broke. I have court next month, and have absolutely no clue what I have done wrong.
"How do you plead?"
Uhh... no contest?
Can you sue the government?
I mean can I at least claim unlawful arrest?
What an ordeal. I feel so violated. I don't feel like the citizen of any sort of "free country," that's for sure.
If anybody can sympathize, help in any way, or just be mad at the government for/with me, please comment.
No worries - I had given myself plenty of time to get to the News Gazette by 3AM. Well, the cop informed me that my registration (license plate) light was out. Just had to write me a warning and I'd be on my way.
Five minutes passed, I began to feel a bit of anxiety. Then another squad pulled up behind the CPD SUV. The anxiety quickly turned into a mild panic attack.
I couldn't figure out why I was still waiting, as ten minutes turned into 15, and 15 into nearly 30, before the cop returned to my car, asking me to step out. By now, my heart rate was three times what it was a half hour prior.
"You have a warrant," officer friendly stated as he cuffed my hands behind my back.
"For what?!" I quickly replied in astonishment.
"Violation of terms of supervision for a DUI arrest."
Yes, I had been arrested on DUI charges back in August, but had since been to court, plead guilty, and received my sentence - which to my knowledge I have complied with 100%.
I asked the cop what that meant. Of course he didn't know.
"Did you have another DUI arrest?"
I hadn't even been pulled over since August.
"Well, it says the warrant was issued December 4."
Well, that's news to me!
Shouldn't I have been informed of this at some point? Or do they just let us "criminals" roam the streets, wanted, until we happen to have a registration light out?
Last month I went to the DMV to renew my license. No one there said anything. I have had background checks for two jobs since then, both showed a clean record. WTF!?
The arresting officer failed to read me any rights, answer any questions, and basically ignored the fact that I was having a panic attack and refused me my medication. He and his cop buddy made sure to search my vehicle for anything illegal, and thankfully grabbed my cell but "forgot" my wallet which lie on the passenger seat right next to my phone.
At no point between being pulled over and released nearly five hours later that morning, was I ever informed of any rights, allowed any medication, an attorney, food or water. When they put me in a cell I finally got a chance to piss. Thankfully they allowed a phone call, but because it was "long distance" (to my Mom's cell in the suburbs), I was allowed to "bend the rules" (which they "don't do for everybody") and call her from my cell and give her the number of the Champaign County Jail to call back "in like fifteen, twenty minutes."
Once I removed every article of clothing potentially harmful to me or my cellmates (including turning my socks inside out...?), answered a bunch of ridiculous questions about my medical history, religious preferences, etc. (which made no sense because I was never allowed medical treatment, nor prayer/spiritual time), and turned over all of my belongings, I was allowed to talk to my mother, who was on hold.
"I apparently violated my supervision. I'm having a panic attack and they won't give me my meds..." I said to her as I trembled.
She was in a daze (understandably, to be woken up at 4AM), but suddenly came to when I mentioned the $20,000 bond!!! Which, if you're not familiar with how bail works, equals $2,000 to get out of jail or Cook County would come get me within 24 hours.
That was another question the idiots couldn't answer: why twenty grand? My best guess is that it's Cook County, because for a first time offender at minimal risk, I think that's a bit excessive... isn't there an amendment regarding that?
At this point, I'm tired, confused and angry. They can't figure out what's going on. Something about having to contact Cook and get the case number. Meanwhile I'm sitting on the phone with my Mom who is losing patience, and wants to call back later, once they can provide her with the number for the third-party credit card bail agent (who by the way charges an 8% fee).
It's about 5:30AM and I've been in and out of a cell about three times. They inform me that the bail has come through, and they are once again waiting on Cook to respond. Mug shot, fingerprints, back in the cell...
I see an officer grab my bag of belongings at nearly 7AM. Then, a group of female inmates is brought in, and he drops my things and attends to them.
Another thirty minutes pass as I wait in the cell. Finally he opens the door and lets me out. By the time I'm released and given back my stuff, along with an April 2nd Cook County court date, it's almost 8AM and I light up a cigarette and call for a ride back home. I've missed my overnight shift, am running on about two hours sleep in the last 48 hour period, and still have no clue what I did wrong to end up in a cell with a bunch of Chris Browns and Rod Blagos.
My car was impounded. I had expired registration as well, which meant I had to pay for that and show proof to the CPD before getting my car out of the impound in Urbana. In other words, my first paycheck was gone in one day. Not to mention, I missed another work shift, spending my whole day running back and forth around town dealing with the bureaucratic nonsense of the Illinois government.
So, here I am again, flat broke. I have court next month, and have absolutely no clue what I have done wrong.
"How do you plead?"
Uhh... no contest?
Can you sue the government?
I mean can I at least claim unlawful arrest?
What an ordeal. I feel so violated. I don't feel like the citizen of any sort of "free country," that's for sure.
If anybody can sympathize, help in any way, or just be mad at the government for/with me, please comment.
Thursday, March 5, 2009
Angry Ryan gets personal, swears a lot
"For all sad words of tongue and pen, the saddest are those 'It might have been.'"
I wrote and wrote and wrote, and had nothing good to say. Nothing. The quote above sums up most of it. Here are some of my other thoughts that I attempted to organize, but failed and figured, what's the point?
I hate frat boys. Always have, always will. I know it's a generalization but if I meet you tomorrow and you tell me you're in a frat, I'll knock your Greek ass out! I thought she felt the same way. She's probably in his bed right now. God fucking damnit that makes me mad. It fucking sickens me. She was here Tuesday night, with me. Yes, in the biblical sense. And now, who fucking knows? I'm not calling you a whore, I just didn't think you had it in you. (Fuck, when's the last time you read this anyway, who cares.)
I know I fucked up. I know I made mistakes in the past. That was me, this is you, but it's not.
Perhaps this post is regression, but I have done a lot of growing up in the past few weeks. Losing your job because you're a dumb fuck opens your eyes and kicks your ass into gear. And btw, Petsmart can suck my cock. "We have to set an example" doesn't work if you don't fire people who pull the same shit I did after me!
I was going to post a nice little entry about how I miss her and am getting my shit together, but she knows that. And the past few times we've been together have been so special- so fucking la-tee-da, it doesn't fucking make two shits difference, special. I told you to go for it, I know. I encouraged you to meet other people, have fun, see what else is out there...
But you tell me he is nothing special! (Of course not, he's a cookie-cutter fucking Northshore jerkoff fratboy!) And even with that said, I was okay with you going out with him, making out with him, and whatever else may have gone down. But I don't fucking believe this shit.
If/when you see this, I don't know how you'll react, but I sure hope it opens your eyes.
So, the above was written about two weeks ago. This is the update:
"[It was platonic] but it's evolving into a greater interest than that and tonight doesn't change how I feel for you... but it means I shouldn't see you anymore..."
That was part of the text message I got tonight from Jessica. (And by the way, the potential "interest" is not the aforementioned fratboy, but another guy.)
How can you tell someone you love them and tell them that you can't see them anymore because you are attracted to the "friends" you were "never attracted to"?
WTF? Did I have this coming or something? All I know is that when it rains it fucking pours.
Love is fucking bull shit to me right now.
It means nothing.
I wish she meant nothing.
I feel like I wasted five years of my life that could have been spent focusing on myself, my friends, my education...SOMETHING else, that would have lasted.
I'm losing it again. I thought I hit rock bottom, but I think I'm still falling.
Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Ch-Cha-Cha, Changes
As you've probably noticed, the name does not remain the same.
I was going to pull a "Prince" and rename the blog with a symbol, but decided against it because, honestly, I didn't have the patience to design an original symbol. Plus, I think the title is fitting. (Read on.)
I've settled in to my new place, with my new roommate, Jim. I left that shithole of an apartment on Fourth Street - hence, the exclusion of the latter part of the title. I considered 'the Kirby Avenue Blues' as a replacement, but it just lacked a ring to it. And 'Unfinished Business' just sounds too generic to me. So, we have 'Plan Z.'
I was listening to a podcast the other day. I really love podcasts. Mostly because they are free. Also, they can be informative. Ira Glass introduced the latest "This American Life" podcast, entitled 'Plan B.'
The podcast was about people ending up doing things they had never envisioned themselves doing, to make a living. In short, settling for 'plan B.'
Well, if myou know me well enough, you know that my life has been all about plan "B." Or rather plan x for that matter, where x = this won't work, but it's the "stated agenda" for the time being.
Whether it be attending school A or school B, being in relationship N or
M, or sticking with job X or Y, it's almost always a bust. Pardon - an excuse, rather than a bust.
So, I decided to grow up, [again/finally].
I'm drinking a whole lot less - which has it's ups and downs. I'm trying to commit to the girl I love. I'm being responsible, sort of. Scratch that - as best I can, which may be worse or better. I hope better.
Anyhow, here I am at this new place with Jim and his crazy puppy Syrus. Good dog, just a bit nuts. Bottom line: I am calling this 'Plan Z' because I have to. No backup plan here. Get shit straight, or else...
More to follow.
Keep an eye out for the new CDRB blog as well...
I was going to pull a "Prince" and rename the blog with a symbol, but decided against it because, honestly, I didn't have the patience to design an original symbol. Plus, I think the title is fitting. (Read on.)
I've settled in to my new place, with my new roommate, Jim. I left that shithole of an apartment on Fourth Street - hence, the exclusion of the latter part of the title. I considered 'the Kirby Avenue Blues' as a replacement, but it just lacked a ring to it. And 'Unfinished Business' just sounds too generic to me. So, we have 'Plan Z.'
I was listening to a podcast the other day. I really love podcasts. Mostly because they are free. Also, they can be informative. Ira Glass introduced the latest "This American Life" podcast, entitled 'Plan B.'
The podcast was about people ending up doing things they had never envisioned themselves doing, to make a living. In short, settling for 'plan B.'
Well, if myou know me well enough, you know that my life has been all about plan "B." Or rather plan x for that matter, where x = this won't work, but it's the "stated agenda" for the time being.
Whether it be attending school A or school B, being in relationship N or
M, or sticking with job X or Y, it's almost always a bust. Pardon - an excuse, rather than a bust.
So, I decided to grow up, [again/finally].
I'm drinking a whole lot less - which has it's ups and downs. I'm trying to commit to the girl I love. I'm being responsible, sort of. Scratch that - as best I can, which may be worse or better. I hope better.
Anyhow, here I am at this new place with Jim and his crazy puppy Syrus. Good dog, just a bit nuts. Bottom line: I am calling this 'Plan Z' because I have to. No backup plan here. Get shit straight, or else...
More to follow.
Keep an eye out for the new CDRB blog as well...
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