12.04.2005
How much have I officially fucked up if my little brother is telling me to "get my priorities straight?"
Here comes my venting.
1. I don't want/need anyone feeling sorry for me...my choices are my stupid choices. I know this. I may be slow. I may make decisions with the mentality of a 7th grader...but, you know...it's already been pointed out to me...and the more it's shoved in my face, the more I become this angry 7th grader.
2. I realize I put myself in situations with no easy way out...or, rather, I've exhausted all my easy ways out.
3. I hate being angry. It doesn't get me anywhere.
On top of this, the squatter next door has returned. The house next door to me has been abandoned and neglected for almost two years now, and about three weeks ago a less fortunate, homeless individual has decided to take a shot at moving in. I went back and forth in my head for about a week on what to do about it, and I finally called the police about two weeks ago.
I called them when I was leaving my house for the day and when I came home, he was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief...half feeling like I had done the right thing and half feeling like an asshole for kicking a homeless man out of shelter that wasn't being used for jack-shit anyway.
But, I guess he decided he liked his new home too much, and he came back. I first noticed it yesterday...and I didn't waste anytime thinking about what to do this time. I got online and looked up the property records, wrote the owners a note and looked up their address.
I was so frustrated that I didn't even want to wait for the snail mail to deliver the letter, so I found where they lived and went to hand deliver it myself. Unfortunately, nobody was home, so I just left it in their mailbox. Something tells me that this isn't going to do anything to solve the problem. But, I think at this point, there's nothing else I can do...except wait to send a welcome basket to the new crack house in neighborhood!
I think there's a homeowner's association around here somewhere...in fact, I know there is. About a year ago, they left me a newsletter that assured me that the recent murder in the neighborhood was nothing I should worry about. Silly domestic violence...
Ok. There's my anger writing for the evening...and hopefully, for the remainder of the year if I can get shit together. I think I'm going to try to productively release some energy by painting...or maybe, just sleeping and trying to start over again tomorrow.
Pleasant Monday to all!
Here comes my venting.
1. I don't want/need anyone feeling sorry for me...my choices are my stupid choices. I know this. I may be slow. I may make decisions with the mentality of a 7th grader...but, you know...it's already been pointed out to me...and the more it's shoved in my face, the more I become this angry 7th grader.
2. I realize I put myself in situations with no easy way out...or, rather, I've exhausted all my easy ways out.
3. I hate being angry. It doesn't get me anywhere.
On top of this, the squatter next door has returned. The house next door to me has been abandoned and neglected for almost two years now, and about three weeks ago a less fortunate, homeless individual has decided to take a shot at moving in. I went back and forth in my head for about a week on what to do about it, and I finally called the police about two weeks ago.
I called them when I was leaving my house for the day and when I came home, he was gone. I breathed a sigh of relief...half feeling like I had done the right thing and half feeling like an asshole for kicking a homeless man out of shelter that wasn't being used for jack-shit anyway.
But, I guess he decided he liked his new home too much, and he came back. I first noticed it yesterday...and I didn't waste anytime thinking about what to do this time. I got online and looked up the property records, wrote the owners a note and looked up their address.
I was so frustrated that I didn't even want to wait for the snail mail to deliver the letter, so I found where they lived and went to hand deliver it myself. Unfortunately, nobody was home, so I just left it in their mailbox. Something tells me that this isn't going to do anything to solve the problem. But, I think at this point, there's nothing else I can do...except wait to send a welcome basket to the new crack house in neighborhood!
I think there's a homeowner's association around here somewhere...in fact, I know there is. About a year ago, they left me a newsletter that assured me that the recent murder in the neighborhood was nothing I should worry about. Silly domestic violence...
Ok. There's my anger writing for the evening...and hopefully, for the remainder of the year if I can get shit together. I think I'm going to try to productively release some energy by painting...or maybe, just sleeping and trying to start over again tomorrow.
Pleasant Monday to all!
