Pain is the cleanser.

I've written a half a dozen posts (or the material for them) and not posted them. Times have changed since I used to write how baked I was was at work, huh? Lord knows there's enough nonsense about me on the internet besides here anyways. Writing has always been a catharsis for me, and I'll continue to do it whether or not it ends up here. Everytime I think nobody reads this and I post something just to vent I end up being sorely mistaken. I also don't want to risk the few good things I have by sounding like a blabbering maniac.
What a goddamn life 360 in the past 5 months or so, heck, the past five days or so even. I'm not sure how to emote (tactfully and non-embarassingly) what I'm feeling. One could argue that's what got me into this mess to begin with. Am I regretful and sad? Absolutely. Am I excited and motivated? More so. I feel like positive life choices are being made and enacted thanks in no small part to the people who have helped me through my latest trials and tribulations. I'm beyond stoked for the future, if not a little scared, nervous, and impatient. Most importantly I genuinely feel like what I'm doing is best for me, my boys, and my aformentioned support posse. I'm quitting smoking starting yesterday and have all the financial, personal, and external motivations to feel like it's finally going to stick. My stress is down so that should help that and has made work better and more efficient. I've gained and purged some friends and had some of my happiest, most content moments in memory in the past couple of days. I feel like this is a new beginning, the pain has cleansed me and I am reborn.

"Step back to my lair, strip down to your underwear."

Since moving back with my Mom, I've been sharing my room with the boys when thye're over. Starting this evening I'm making my camp in the basement in the former TV room, lots of space and an attached bathroom. Pretty jazzed for the upgrade, increased privacy, and better organizational capabilities. All that's left to do now is to covince naive impresional ladies that the half hour drive out is worthwhile.

For the "Seemed like a good idea at the time" file:

I was a good Dad all week so ended up wearing rugby shorts to a bar (For ease of dancing, obv.) under the influence of at least 3 different mind slurrying chemicals, resulting in me getting kicked out for licking a doorman.

In what I'm going to mostly blame on the lack of pocket space (though there were definitely other factors) I lost my cell phone, my debit card, and my cigarettes. Fortunately the card was replaceable, the smokes were mostly gone, and my cell phone was found and they called the house. Unfortunately short shorts offer little road rash protection and I'm scraped to hell and my elbow is pretty banged up. Part of me feels a little old for this, but most of me can't wait to do it all again.

Those not attending the Lavers-Cahill wedding (though I'm genuinely sure it'll be lovely) are welcome to accompany me and Mr. Beaton tear the ass out of Montreal and Osheaga-size your summer. New ride, awesome city, and a collection that'd likely be the envy of Raoul Duke. Jus' sayin's all.

I'm not a patient man. I pout when I don't get what I want, I sulk. I'm all about instant gratification, up size my fries, now, now, now. Obviously that's something I need to work on. People crave, objects, relationships, money, stature, I'm no different. Buddhists say the origin of suffering is craving for things that we think will give us pleasure. And boy, are they onto something.

There's a lot of things out there that I want. Most aren't all that original or inspiring, so you don't need to hear about those. The ones that are unique to me or that I wake up to in the morning are either too embarrassing or private to share with you bozos. I just need to put my head down, keep on trucking, and hope my ship will come in. It's the only choice I have, but it's got me really scared. In a way that's kind of a good thing and has me excited. Fear as a motivator can leaves us paralysed like a dear in the headlights, I'll just have to find some balance and walk the line.

It's likely few if any people will read this, and that's proably a good thing. It's pretty common for me to come here when I'm pissed off. It's a good spot to rant when no one is around to listen, so here goes:
I am sick of being penalized for having goals and wanting a better life.
Lately, I've been feeling increasingly distant from a lot of my friends. My life has changed a lot in the last year, more so than any year I can remember. I've been forced (directly and indirectly) to change my priorities and focus on what is important. I'll be the first person to admit my pals have been hardest hit by my new life choices, but shouldn't real friends be able to understand that people evolve?
A lot of people are blaming or will blame Chelsea for having me "whipped". The fact that people are talking smack about her/us and don't think I know about it is laughable. I'm a big boy. I can make decisions on my own, and my decision is to be there for my family. If that means sacrificing time with my friends, so be it. The only thing more important to me than my friends is my family, and sadly I can't see that ever changing.
A quick remark between friends is what has me all up in arms. I'm not going to say what it was, because it was entirely meant without harm, but it kind of certified some underlying feelings I had been having. Those feelings being that most of my friends don't like me, or at the very least, think less of me for being around less.
I don't go drinking on weekdays anymore. I have a great job that is really important to me and I have a 7 month old who needs his daddy at his beck and call. Makes sense not to go out eh?
Oh yeah? did I mention I had two jobs for the past month and a half?
Fuuuuuuuck.
Pay day loans and throwing up at 2am on Wednesday mornings just aren`t for me anymore.

Oh me. So after slacking off as long as possible, I was due to get a job. Things are getting super tight money-wise, and at just the right time my old boss sent me a facebook message asking if I could help out on weekends. For those of you who don't know, I was previously employed at a hemp shop. They have since moved and gotten into adult supplies as well, which makes for a nice mix in clientele; Stoners and perverts. So aside from being dog tired (I haven't had a job where I had to be on my feet all day in at least 5 years), I have some news and notes about my first day back.

The majority of my shift was spent opening DVD porn and taking it out of the cases so it couldn't be stolen, then cataloging it, so it could retrieved easily when it is to be purchased. Obviously this wasn't that bad of a gig, I got to look at tits all day and make fun of bad porn star names and titles. Suffice it say there are a lot of people in the porn industry who shouldn't be.

Another thing I noticed is there are people out there who should save what brain cells they have left, and stop smoking dope. More than I few times I was asked if the glass pipes would work with "the weed". As well as few other snippets I feel y'all might enjoy.
One was of gentleman who seemed familiar, and we later determined we shared a mutual pal. I set him up with a pipe and he was on his way. About a half hour later, dude comes back, chink-eyed and giggling. he says:

"I need some Visene."
To which I reply: "Fucking right you do, you're cooked"
"Well, where is it?"
"Wait, you're here for visene? Do I look like a pharmacist? Go to superstore if you need visene."
"You mean you guys don't sell it here?"
"No."

This looked like I had just told him New Brunswick had blown up, his brain was not computing. God knows how he made out at Superstore, they probably took him down an elevator to the basement and interrogated him until he wet his pants.

Towards the end of the night, this family came in. best I could ascertain was that it was Dad with a son and daughter. The daughter was around 18-20, the son 16-18. Now these folk looked straight out of Deliverance. Inbreed, gap-toothed, and the daughter had a better stashe than I could ever grow. These folks found nothing weird in perusing our collection of sex toys together (!) and spent abut 45 in the goddamn store while we were trying to close. They would pick out a few things, I'd ring them in, then they'd look around some more and buy some more things. At one point the daughter was looking at the papers and asked what we had for flavored ones. Now this doesn't seem like and odd question, but about we have a lot of papers and about 75% are flavored, and all were right in front of her. I humored her, and then she asked if we had strawberry ones. By this point I was starting to question if she could read, because we have no less than five (5) different strawberry papers. She settled on one and eventually got the fuck out.

Suffice it say I should have a lot more blog fodder in the next few weeks. Working with the dregs of society is nothing if not entertaining.