[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 3 most recent journal entries recorded in
|Saturday, October 11th, 2003|
The 11th Hour
So I just got out of the shower, I figured I needed to spend one last time with my hair so-to-speak before I chop it off. Special thanks to Emily and Jessica for the nudges over the past year, not to mention Kat's subtle and not-so-subtle hints over the years. Once someone plants that seed in my head, I can't shake it. So finally I decided 'what the hell?' I'll cut my hair short. It's been long a quarter of my life. It's always been symbolic to me. When I was younger I was always the insecure, small, quiet little boy afraid to live. Two major influences came to me when I was 13 years old. Heavy Metal and professional wrestling. I got into metal, and became a huge fan of Bret Hart. He was my first hero thinking back; growing up I never idolized anyone, or never wanted to be -insert dream occupation here-. I started working out, and growing my hair long. I worked out because in my juvenile mind it was to impress this girl I adored that I was too shy to approach (how typical right?). Not only did this lead to a healthier, more attractive appearance, it gave me the confidence I always lacked, and the courage to deal with my speech problem. Time went on, I kept going, now I'm on the verge of making a career out of a symbol childhood hobby. Oddly enough, the older I got, the more people told me I look like Bret Hart. I mean complete strangers stop me on a near daily basis these days to let me in on that. I never really saw it that much myself, beyond the physique and the long wavy hair. Well tonight as I sat in the shower (yes, I sat) I gazed in the mirror. The mirror never has lied, I've always heard. Thinking about Monday, the day of my shearing, I just looked at my face in the mirror. I smoothed my hair back, hanging behind my head and rolling forward over my shoulders, I realized. Good God, I do look like Bret Hart. That was the first time I saw it. It's like one of those moments when you suddenly realize something that's been right under your nose (literally) all along. As trivial as it may seem to anyone reading this, it meant something to me. Remembering the few times I remember watching wrestling when I was little and seeing the Hart Foundation in action. The a few years later becoming a fan yes, but a steadfast believer in what my hero stood for. And now I've seen that I'm the physical second-coming of my childhood role model. My girlfriend said she'll cry when I finally do cut my hair, but worry not, it's not the last you've seen of the Hitman. Monday it is, wish me luck.
|Thursday, September 18th, 2003|
What a day. Sometimes life is just bland. My 'girlfriend' gets sick at random, some customer accussed me of being an irresponsible "ladies' man" at work, and I set a new personal record in the gym. The customer was just pissed because I didn't help her out in favor of this lady I new from the fitness center. Jealous Madame? I was even nice to her, what a bitch. If I'm such a womanizer as she puts it, why wasn't I helping her out? (thought I do admit, I usually try to; she's hot) Secondly, I went in the gym yesterday with my tried and true black bandana (good luck?) and my worn out Nike's with the goal of 405, four plates. I hadn't tried to squat that much before, but I figured, "What the hell? I got it." And have it I did. It was even easier than I thought it would be. So I upped it a little, and pulled out 440 4 times...meaning I *think* I could handle around 470 or 480, I'll get 500 by November. Show me a 160 lbs 5'7 little guy doing that, and I'll gladly give him the title as "da' man." But only till morn, for then I'll take it back. Anyway, got some people messaging me, I'm out.
|Sunday, September 14th, 2003|
Be Gentle, it's my first time
Just talked to Kat, one of the most unique people I've ever met, for the first time in a couple months. She was missed. There's absoluetely nothing on my mind right now, just how much my legs hurt from doing squats yesterday, and laughing at the misfortunes of these poor Japanese people on Extreme Elimination Challenge (Spike Tv, where available). Does anyone ever stop to think about how bad some other people lives' may be? I'm talking to a couple friends, whose existence I can refer to as presently pitiful. Why do we have such a hard time listening to other people? --Especially when we know they're right. I'm not right that often, but I've been on a roll lately, and my advice just falls on deaf ears. Oh well, let em figure it out for themselves, how sweet it is to say "I told you so." It's that childish side in everyone's nature that loves to rear it's head here and there. Well mine's pretty much in control, and tomorrow isn't looking good either. *Recent Breaking News* I just blocked this girl I went out with a couple times last year. She changed her screen name to "Ash loves Andy." First off, few people call me that, secondly, what good is that gonna do her? Talk is cheap, especially when you're dealing with an ass like myself. Anyway, she's barking up the wrong tree...