13 days to go...
Today I learned that my dad lobbied to have my name be Octavio when I was a baby. He was overruled and my name became Raiden… When I heard Octavio something in me unlocked. It’s a powerful name. I kind of want to go by it.
I like my name Raiden, but it is a softer name. A softer person. Perhaps when I channel my defiance, my disagreeableness, my fury, I can be Octavio.
Use it as a character. A more confident me. A more fiery me.
Something about it just feels right. An unlock for sure.
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My mom just got home; I hear her car driving up the driveway.
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My friend and I bought steaks from Costco. They were fucking expensive; but they were really good.
I cut them up. It was one of those big ass slabs of meat. He cooked them. I cut one up and made a big sandwich for lunch tomorrow.
I’m excited for it.
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I worked today. It was a good day. My right toe has been going numb. I am going to wear thinner socks tomorrow; we’ll see if that helps with that problem.
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I went to a wedding on Saturday. I slept close to 24 hours on Sunday.
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The weekend was busy. This week will be busy too. My grandpa’s funeral is this Sunday.
I am looking forward and not forward to it at the same time.
I miss him.
But I also feel as if he is with me.
Him, my grandma, my biz Nonna (great grandmother). They are all with me. They look out for me.
I think my other relatives, my biz Nonno, and my great grandparents, look out for me too.
I don’t know where they are or in what state they are in or if it’s just my psychology wrapping itself around me to protect me; but it feels like they are nearby.
I like to think that anyways.
My heart is heavy.
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At the wedding there was a beautiful girl. I said a few words to her. That’s all I could muster.
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There is a beautiful girl that works at one of the job sites I go to. Today I rode up the elevator with her in the morning. I stood right next to her.
I didn’t say anything. Just smiled and looked around awkwardly.
Dang.
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Talking to girls is tough.
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I got introduced to The Game by Neil Strauss. It’s about this journalist who covers the pick up artist scene in the early 2000s. It reads like a good story. It’s funny. Apparently it is supposed to work on getting girls to sleep with you.
I don’t know about that; but it’s a good read.
One of the terms to describe someone not fluent in the ways of pick up artistry is AFC, Average Frustrated Chump, and I got to say that is what I’ve been feeling like.
This boy is down bad.
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I am hovering between feeling overwhelmed and doing ok. This evening I have been feeling ok. Yesterday and this morning I was more on the overwhelmed side of things.
I want this and that and the other thing.
I like saying that. Writing that. “This and that and the other thing”. It’s a fun saying.
And it’s true. I do want that.
But, you know, it’s always changing. My wants, my needs. They seem to always be in flux. The closer I get to one need or want the less interested I become in it.
This triathlon for example. It’s… 13 days away.
I picked up a hard labour job 3 weeks out because I was bored… not very conducive to triathlon training.
Oh well. Maybe it is. I’ve been lifting heavy things and walking a lot up and down stairs. My forearms and arms and shoulders are getting strong. It might be good cross training. Haven’t done much running or biking or swimming though.
Haven’t had the energy. This jobs been sucking it up.
And I don’t think that’s a bad thing. Just a thing.
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I’m hitting a barrier with this writing thing. It’s 9:38PM. I’m tired but I think I’ll write until 10, maybe 9:45. Let’s try for 9:45 and see how I feel.
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I am finding my self having a hard time… With not much. Things are motoring along pretty easily right now. I guess going back to the overwhelmed to doing ok teeter totter; it’s probably a warning sign that I’m trying to do too much but also I think it’s causing growth.
I hope. I think. I know.
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Again I’m not too sure what to do with this blog. To continue it, abort it, go silent, start an anonymous one, something in between all those.
Something.
I’ve been liking writing.
I think it’s good for me.
I am looking up my ex still but with less frequency.
So far I have resisted the urge to ask my brother or my friend to use their instagram to creep hers. I don’t think she even has one anymore; don’t think I’d see much if I even tried to look.
sigh.
Yeah that wound is still there. Right on the heart.
The wedding this weekend scratched at it pretty hard. Loss is painful.
Even when it’s voluntary. Maybe more when it’s voluntary.
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I hope the dog we had together is doing well.
My friend’s wife asked how she’s doing and I don’t know.
Should I try to know?
I don’t know.
Seems too painful. Rather not open that.
Am I being stubborn? Am I being intransigeant? Am I being… an idiot?
Maybe. Maybe not.
Maybe I’m just being me.
Maybe I should call her? Maybe I should text her? Maybe I should buy a plane ticket and fly out and propose to her?
Maybe I should stay in my lane, stay the course, and move on.
Maybe I should this. Maybe should I that.
Too many maybes.
Let’s table that one for now.
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9:48PM, let’s keep going.
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I bought some water bottles at Costco. 5 pallets. 40 bottles each.
I think bottled water got a bad wrap.
They are convenient. My parents place is on a well and the water has a funny taste to it; the bottled water is more palatable. They are easy to grab and go.
As a homie with some sort of ADHD or autism or depression or anxiety or… Just someone who finds it hard to get out of bed and feed and water myself; the bottled water is a very good option for me to stay hydrated.
I find it frustrating that the ruling class flipped the environmental responsibility onto the consumer. Fuck them.
Make my bottled water less environmentally damaging AND still convenient AND still cheap. If we had real competition in the space it would exist. But we don’t.
Maybe that’s just a cope.
Blame others; not myself.
It’s probably both.
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Big titties. Little titties. Titties full of milk.
Soft titties. Warm titties.
Pur. Pur. Pur.
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What the fuck was that? 9:56PM.
I’m done I think.