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| Not a single day goes by without me wondering what she and I could have been. ...But we just had to go and fuck it all up, didn't we?
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| I just got done telling a friend that I wasn't going to write in this anymore... Maybe I should have said that I wont be writing in this often... I don't know. I've been caught up in my own world lately. I feel like a few days have gone by and then I'm reminded it's been a month. Summer has a way of blending the days together but I have a feeling there is a little more to it than that...
I've been focusing on my health, for the most part. EE (eosinophilic esophagitis, extreme inflammation of the esophagus) has made eating extremely difficult. I had a limited diet to begin with due to ridiculous food allergies. Those two things have made me lose 20 pounds in the last two months. I haven't weighed less than 140 pounds in probably... 3 years now. My clothes haven't fit right for weeks. It's no fun. On the bright side- I'm under 10 percent body fat (Not that I really had to worry about that...) without really having to do anything. And we've found a solution (through protien shakes) to at least stop the weight loss. Now it's just a matter of putting the pounds back on.
Still waiting for my nose to heal completely so I can have surgery. Two, actually. One for the deviated septum (inside) and one for the bridge (outside). It doesn't hurt anymore unless I start messing with it which is a lot better than before where it would hurt even when I would open my mouth too wide. So I can start singing again. But I sound like I have a cold because of the deviation. I can feel less air going through my nostril. It's super fucking weird. At first I was most upset about how this was going to delay recording vocal tracks (it has to be at least 6 months before we can procede with surgery) but it has given me plenty of time to organize some other projects. I went from having 1 band and a solo project to having 5 projects. Maybe 6, depending on another friend's availability. And lucky for me, technology will allow me to get rid of that nasal-cold sound in my voice so I'll be able to get a little work done before having surgery.
Then I get to join the "I had a nose job to fix my septum ...not for cosmetic reasons" Club, founded by Ashlee Simpson and Ashley Tisdale. I'm pretty amused by that, actually.
I'm not completely sure what the point of this entry is... Maybe vent or remind myself that it's not all bad. Maybe just to let people know that I'm still alive. I'll make it out of this just fine, probably even stronger than I was before. It will just be a fucking trip. ...But isn't that kind of how life works?
Stay classy.
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| On Thursday night I was sober cabbing some friends around Saint Paul. At around 1:30 we arrived at a bar that I was never a big fan of. One of my friends wasn't stoked about it either so he and I decided to walk down the street (about a block, if that) to another bar. Nothing was really happening at that place so after spending about five minutes there we decided to walk back and meet up with our friends so we could call it a night.
We almost made it back to the bar before we crossed paths with a party bus that was parked across the street. Some skeezy looking dude with a pony tail came out and started talking to us. He joked with my friend about random shit and then a few minutes later he walked back into the bus. Before we had a chance to turn 90 degrees and continue back to the bar where our friends were some mother fucker runs out from behind the bus and clocks my friend in the side of the head, knocking him to the ground.
My focus was directed to my friend who was on all fours on the sidewalk. I couldn't believe that had just happened. There was no confrontation. No one did or said anything to give any indication that some punk bitch was about to do what he did. I guess that was probably the point.
After the first hit and paused for a second. I looked at my friend who was in the process of standing up again, very slowly. A solid hit like that combined with the shock of it happening is more than enough to disorient someone. My first instinct was to take out the guy who had just hit my friend but after seeing three more guys surrounding him now I thought it would be better to just pick up my friend and take off.
I quickly moved to my friend who was a few feet away and bent down to help him stand up. Still in shock, I was only paying attention to helping my friend off the ground. Then I felt an impact on my right cheek. The force made my upper body swing to the left and I lifted my head up so my face was no longer parallel with the concrete. That was the hardest I've ever been hit... ...Until the dude decided to hit me again a split second later.
Let me throw this out there to paint a better picture; I have a black belt and my step father, a 3rd degree black belt (last time I checked, it could be higher now) who also used to own a dojo and train people for a living, used to work out and train with me. So I've taken a few hits over the years. I have a very high pain threshold. My friend that was with me has training equal to mine but unfortunately you cannot fight what you can't see.
The second punch hit me square in the nose. It sounded like a melon being smashed on cement. I flew backwards and hit my head on the sidewalk. There was a strange taste in my mouth. Blood. I looked at my hands and saw blood on them as well. I think I grabbed my nose after I was hit while I was in the process of floating through the air. I noticed all of this after hitting the ground and then rolling a few feet away from the guy that hit me.
I sat up quickly, thinking that I was about to be hit again, but instead the guy walked back to my friend and hit him once more, knocking him on his back. Then he started to hit him repeatedly, which would knocked him unconscious shortly after the first or second hit, while after about the fifth hit his friends finally yelled at him to stop. He didn't though.
It probably sounds like I was sitting there watching this happen. I wasn't. I know this is what happened because I could hear it. My first thought was to run to help my friend but I thought that I would most likely be jumped on by everyone standing there watching and since my nose felt like it was floating around and I couldn't really see anything... I didn't think that would do anyone much good. So while this was going on I was running across the street to get the bouncers (who were conveintly standing around outside) and tell them to get over there and tear the kid that did that to me in half.
It actually didn't even take that much. They saw me and before I actually said anything I just pointed across the street to the party bus that was keeping everything out of sight and a few of them started running over there. The general manager (Who I later found out knows my aunt) walked slowly with me back over there as told him (or at least attempted to) what just happened.
Unfortunately I wasn't fast enough and all of these fucks managed to get on the party bus and the piece of shit bus driver just took off.
That's the jist of what happened. I wont go into how long we waited at the hospital before actually getting help. Or how long it took the police to decide what to file the report under. ...They decided to call it a traffic violation. And they wonder why some people have no respect for them.
Needless to say, the last few days have been less than enjoyable. But at least I have plenty of vicodin now in case I ever need it.
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| A few months ago I wrote a song about just wanting to be let in by someone. Last year I dated someone who couldn't quite give all of herself up. There was still one wall left and I couldn't get by it no matter how hard I tried. Or didn't try, for that matter. Since then it has happened two more times with different girls. It always ends the same way.
Recently I met someone new. Our hands fit perfectly together. So far, she seems like everything I've been waiting for. Someone who can put up with all my bullshit. The one who might finally manage to tie me down. Fuck, I even composed a piece on the piano for her. Do you know when the last time was that I wrote something for someone else? Or even wanted to? It has only happened a few times in my life. She amazes me. She makes me smile again.
Which is why I'm not going to let her in. I refuse to be broken into even smaller pieces if (and when) it doesn't work out. Slightly pessimistic? I like to consider myself more of a realist. It never works out. I don't know why this time will be any different. Especially when I am clearly not any different.
Darling, maybe we'd belong to each other in another life. Cheers to what could have been.
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| ...But sometimes I just want to play the villain.
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