Hello reality check.  I guess it’s what I needed though.  Time to put the front back up.  Time to get over being mopey and lonely.  Who needs that anyway.


   Things are moving along a spectacular pace here in the world of Adam.  My 24th birthday approaches this Thursday.  I don’t have plans yet, I never make birthday plans till that day, and then it’s usually just drinking at some bar, but oh well.  I don’t know what to expect this year, usually birthdays are a massive dissappointment to me.  We’ll see.


    A week from today I am moving out of my parents house and into an apartment.  I’ll be moving into Lakes of Windsor with Patrick.  The move should go smoothly since half of my shit is still boxed up from college.  My parents are chipping in and getting me a bed and a dresser, I already have two coffee tables and tons of lamps and shelves for the walls.  I have a recliner.  Patrick is working on a couch, and if not i have a back up couch.  All in all, we should have a pretty cool bachelor pad.  I’m excited about it.


  anyhow, that’s all I have for now.  be sure to check out my friend Missi’s Xanga, she just started typing in it more.  She lives in Oregon with my other pal Aubrie.  Check ’em out dudes.  Later!


   Things socially have been a blitz of late.  I’ve lost Zach (who was a good friend and a little more), Amanda and I’ve been on the outs mostly and it seems Big Daddies has been less and less entertaining lately.  I’ve branched out a bit, chilled with some new co-workers and i’ve tried to re-kindle old frienships, but nothings satisifed my intense need for social interacion.  I’m just always in the mood to be hanging out.  To make matters worse, my cell phone took a plunge into the swimming pool, so i’ve had trouble with communication in general, but the problem’s being fixed as we speak. 

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The Phone Call

    I have a small medallion hanging on the visor of my car.  It’s not there to be pretty or cool.  It’s not there because it’s clipping something in place.  It’s not there because I am too lazy to remove it.  It’s there because my mother asked me to put it there.  I don’t know what the emblem on it really means, except that it has something to do with the motorists prayer and some saint (possibly Christopher?).  I’ve had it in everyone of my cars, and I’ve never been hurt in an accident, even though I’ve had several.  I’m not one to be all excited about this coincidence.  Most people know my skeptimism about everything is through the roof.  I believe in some sort of higher power, but I dont’ know what this creature’s purpose is, or why this power has brought my life into exsistence.  A part of me doesn’t think I deserve to know.   It says, “You’re here, be happy, don’t get caught up in asking why!”  And a part of me says, “Why?”. 


    I grew up in a world where you went to church on Sunday.  You went to a place where good people smiled and shook your hand and sang songs and loved each other.  As I got older I realized that even in church, even in the one place where you thought everything was sacred, there is evil.  Church politics, the meaningless battles between rival choir singers, the Minister who smuggled money from chruch; all these things and more caused me to doubt what the congregation I had been so impressed with really stood for.  I know that they were all people and that all of them have flaws, commit sin.  We aren’t perfect and were never meant to be.  In fact, if we were, we’d be God.  I also realized that it wasn’t necessary to be around those people, to be in that building, to know God.  And that sort of scared me.  Maybe it was because of the simplicity of individuality.  Maybe it was because I became closer to God.  I don’t know.  Maybe I was wandering away and I was being warned.  Whatever it may be, I accepted that I didn’t need church to know God and that I could still be a good person without all that.


    I received a phone call the other day about how I am sinful and evil.  About how I am on a bad path.  About how I have made mistakes in my life.  I didn’t believe of a word of it.  I thought about it, considered the possibility that maybe I was wrong.  Maybe I was on a path of destruction.  After all, if one doesn’t at least stop to consider another’s ideas, judgements, then one would be iggnorant.  I know I’m not a bad person.  I know I have addictions and sins in my life, but I battle them the best I can.  I try to make up for what I feel are my short comings.  I would never tell someone they were wrong about religion.  I would never tell someone they were going to hell.  I may be extremely judgemental when it comes to superficial things, but when it comes to the soul, I know it’s not my right to say anything, because that’s something personal.  It’s something people have on there own.  It’s faith.  It’s something you believe in.  It’s not something you KNOW.  If you knew, it wouldn’t mean anything because it’d be a fact and you wouldn’t fight so hard to make someone else understand.


   I recieved a phone call while sitting in Big Daddies Bar and Grill the other day.  I twisted my black bar stool around and looked down at my phone to see who was calling.  I said outloud, “This will be a terrible conversation.”  A woman we nicknamed Barfly looked over at me and said “uh-oh, something’s going on”.  I stood up and walked to the door, exited for better reception, and pressed the green answer key.  “You have to stop.  You can’t call me anymore.  You aren’t ever going to see me again.  Your evil and sinful and I am not a homosexual.  I am a Christian.  I have a girlfriend.  You are on a wrong path.  I am not a homosexual.  I do not believe in homosexuality.  The texting and phone calls need to end Adam.”  I don’t know what else he wanted to say.  I don’t know if I could have responded with something better, if he would have listened to anything.  It was a reaction, much like pulling back when you touch something hot.  I pressed the red “end call” button.  I put the phone in my pocket, I walked into the bar.  I smiled at the bartender.  “I’ll have another one please.”

    Some one told me they had an addictive personality the other day.  She explained it as always becoming addicted to stuff, like cigarettes, chocolate etc.  I didn’t really give her much thought thinking to myself that the title of her condition didn’t make much sense anyway.  I would refer to that as someone being obsessive.  I suppose that’d be because it’s how I see myself.  Every wednesday you will find me at the local comic shop feeding my need to masks and capes.  I frequent a number of smokey lounges filled with bored and loud people, only to leave more depressed then when I arrived.  I appreciate music to the maximum extent when I’m under the influence of pot, but when the rides over I’ll forget about the song. 


    I recently said goodbye to a friend, and that’s all he was ever going to be.  But the idea, the possibility, that I could change the tide, alter the probabilities, was such a high that I didn’t mind feeling constantly beat up by the situation.  Don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying my emotions weren’t genuine, and I’m not saying that I didn’t have true feelings for him, because I did.  But I know what kept me hanging on, what allowed me to open myself up to that kind of emotional vomit, was the desire to create a future that was once deemed impossible.


    The results of this all have been varied. I lost a Led Zeppelin hoody, but gained an understanding with my parents.  I lost my forever long streak of nun like behavior and found my knack for song writing again.  I realized that religion is something I am going to have to deal with soon and it’s not something anyone knows how to discuss rationally.  I’ve learned that most people who are ignorant think your just as ignorant (or naiveve).  I lost my heart, but it will grow back, it always does.  I gained an appreciation for buddy holly style glasses and I was reminded of how warm someonelse’s arms can be.


    I don’t regret anything I’ve done in the past 2 months, except for not kissing during the goodbye.  I’m terrified about what’s going to happen now.  The worst thing is for nothing to happen.  And even more terrifying is that I haven’t cried yet.  I held it back a few times already, but I haven’t let loose.  I guess I just don’t understand this whole ordeal of loving someone who will love you back.  That’s not how it works.  I’ve never choosen someone to fall in love with, I’ve just become attracted to and wanted to express myself to these individuals.  I have a picture of him in my desk, I can’t decide if I should take it down or not.  And I really don’t mind loosing my Zeppelin hoody, because he can wear it and think of me.  Thanks for everything, that was fun.