Day Off

So today I'm having another round of laser removal done. It's not fun, but whatever. It's not the most horrible thing in the world, either. I bought a new pair of sneakers and am going to do this appointment, then go back home to Oakland and watch TV, and do laundry if I have the energy. It's nice not living in this city anymore.
Work wasn't too bad after the horror of last Tues night/Wed morning. I'm going to try and take a day off in the coming months for a nice little 3 day weekend.

I moved upstairs to #6 and so far, so good. No roaches. However, this morning, I found a very small spider barely able to be seen by the naked eye, as well as some kind of black beetle crawling on the kitchen curtain. NOT FUCKING COOL. Is this building infested? What the fuck? This better not even be a motherfucking bi-weekly occurence, because I will pack up my stuff and move elsewhere. These people need to get it together. Fumigate or exterminate or whatever. I understand that in apartment buildings, especially old ones, there are small bugs that you can't avoid, but come on. I just moved all my things to a new apartment to get away from the cigarette smoke, the noise, and the bugs, and I am still: smelling cigarettes, hearing noise from downstairs, and now have seen more fucking bugs. I think I should start looking for a new place. I don't need this aggravation. It's bogus and the owners of the building need to keep it clean. There's crap all over the back stairs, due to the numerous pigeons outside that I am now hearing all the time, and the building smells musty when you walk in. I guess as long as I don't see anymore bugs, at least for a few months, I'll be ok.

I hope these shoes I bought fit right. I'm standard mens. 8.5 in Onituska Tigers, my favorite sneakers ever. They're the best, comfiest, and fit nice. No surprises. I'm going to go back home and maybe take a walk. It's a very balmy day today, a bit overcast, but warm. People are wearing shorts around.

I'm missing the days of being 21 years old. It seems like you spend so much time waiting for these milestone birthdays, like 16, then 18, then 21, then it's like...hmm.. can I just stay at 21, please? 29 is kind of...not that great. And 30 is a milestone, but if you're alone it's kind of a sad milestone.

I'm really irritated by the bugs. There's more important things to get upset over, but I put all the effort into moving and I AM STILL SEEING BUGS. I don't fucking care if it's one spider or a fucking water beetle or whatever. It's unacceptable.

That's all for now.

Years ago, I used to enjoy writing short fiction and some creative non-fiction stories. It was a big hobby of mine, and a nice way for a shy and awkward teenager to escape to horrible world of the suburbs. Now, years later...I just feel like I can't do it. I can't even write a line or two without getting bored and looking at what I read and seeing a bunch of garbage. I wasted my college years majoring in Literature when I should have majored in Business, Marketing, or Communications. Or Nursing. Or SOMETHING ELSE. I had zero motivation and ambition after my mother died. And after my father died first, I really lost my support system. Dad always said he was my biggest fan, and he really meant it, too. I remember the least concert I sang in at elementary school, in late spring 1994. He was only a few months away from dying, but you never would have known it. He looked healthy and alive.

Anyway, I remember he stood up halfway and waved his arms in the air, and I smiled back and gave him a little wave. He was so geniune and happy, and smiled his big, wonderful smile. I miss him a lot, still, but my memories of him stop at age 12. It's not easy to carry those memories with you into adulthood. They start to fade away and turn into sad recollections.

Wouldn't everyone love to write a book about their fucked up childhoods and adolescence, about all the assholes who wronged them and treated them like shit, and have it published, and turned into a major bestseller? Then all of those same douche mongers could read them and take a metaphorical punch to the solar plexus. I need to push it and create something great, I have a lot of good material, but putting it into a semi-fictional story is tough to do. I'm not good at writing witty dialogue.
It turnes into mish-mash fiddle faddle.

I was going to go into the city today but just couldn't dredge up the energy. I had a slight nightmare last night anyway with too many bugs. I'm sick of it. My landlord never mentioned that there is a slight roach issue in this building. I really want to move, like, now. Out of Oakland, and out of California. Fucking forever, kiss it goodbye for the last time.

Happy New Year 2012.