Heart's Song.

I don't know why that's in my head right now. I just keep coming back to 'What is my heart's song'?. What am I really passionate about. What will my mark (however big or small) on this planet be. Truthfully though, that's not really important. Love your family, love your friends, love yourself. Things feel strangely peaceful right now. Like in the eye of the storm-ish.

This is the first year in quite a while that I've missed the old days of putting up Christmas stuff. When you have my Mother, you can understand wanting to take a few years off. That Woman has more Christmas stuff than Jesus. As a bachelor I've never put up decorations....no point really. But that time with family, looking through boxes and boxes, putting the tree up (or in my Mom's case- TREES), listening to Christmas music. It is truly a magical time.

December 1st, 2011. - I suspect 2012 will have nothing but crazy surprises through and through. Why would it be different than any other year in recent history?! It would be nice for things to be mellow and relaxed. Just 365 of coolness. But, is that ever in the cards? Does anyone ever look back at a year and remember only the relaxing parts? I don't think so. But they were there. We're all just too much of drama queens to focus on that stuff. I think I'm going to do a project this coming year- everyday write down something that I am thankful for, that day. And at the end of the year, see what all happened and if I could remember why I was thankful for what. That sounds cool.

Anyway, love to you and yours and mine and ours.

Oliver.

Gentle Man

I gosta change things up.

Muse-ic

Sup Bebolati?!

Most of the time when writing a song, I'll just pick up the guitar and try to form some sort of structure. Then I'll maybe hum, or sing some stuff, then I'll start thinking about what I want to write about. I'm not sure if there is any standard protocol for song writers. You hear so many different things. "Sometimes I think of a song title first" ~ Taylor Goldsmith. I think that's one of the coolest things about it. If there was just one way to write a song, I wouldn't be very interested.

In other news: I'm ready for the long weekend. I'm a little irritated with how broke I am. I wouldn't be broke at all if I hadn't had to pay my attorney his full fee. I'm tired of this. Yes, this one time there are extenuating circumstances that have made me broke, but in the past, it's been me. Just me, fucking myself over, time and time again. Last Winter I spent the entire season hold up in a bar, drinking myself out of depression, making myself very sick, and wanting to die and making myself very, very broke. I slept in my car, I could have (should have) lost my job, and stayed very depressed and very anxious.

Medicine seems to be helping a lot with the depression and anxiety. Don't get me wrong, I can let a thought spiral out of control and be in a real dark place real quick. But it's harder to do. I have a good home, a good family, a good dog, good friends, and a good future. Positive thinking has been a big help this past year.

HIV/AIDS. ok, so reading the above, you should understand that its succeeding topic is what drove me into a craze. For some reason, unbeknownst to me, I (oh, I remember, a porn star got hiv, so for some reason I thought "Oh, God!! I've got HIV"!!!!) I worried myself sick about it. For several reasons. 1- guilt. I have broken up with my girlfriend that spring, and that spring I had sex with a friend of mine, then my ex and I got back together sort of. The thought (at the time) of HIV never crossed my mind. But when it did.....look out. 2- I'm a hypochondriac and highly paranoid about a lot. So when I get something stuck in my brain, it's hard to get it out. I ruled out the girls I've been with as targets. Then I started thinking "Is there some way I got black-out drunk and let a dude fuck me?". "That one night when dad was in town and he brought cocaine and we drank and did cocaine then went to midtown and he brought two girls home, and I went to bed...did one of those nasty bitches he brought home come in and fuck me  while I was asleep?"...... The most obvious answer to these questions is HELL NO. For one, I don't have gay fantasies. Two, I'm pretty sure a good butt fucking would wake me from whatever black out I may have been in. Plus, I don't think you go from totally straight to blackout ass drilling. I'm sure there's a few make-outs in there before you say "Take it all, Pablo!". And Three, I'm pretty sure that if I couldn't wake up with a chick on top of me, my dick wont be able to either. But those thoughts only popped in my head because I have to cover all bases when something freaks me out. This is not the first or the worst that it's ever been. I've had to talk myself off a ledge way too many times, and from an early age. The odds of getting HIV from a Woman are slim to none. That's a fact. And since I don't get butt plunged, I'm pretty good. But that didn't stop me from looking up every symptom, joining forums online, finding people that were just as fucking scared as me, and talking with them. Truth is, there are a lot of dudes out there that were or are as worried as me. I think it's because it's in our nature to protect Women, and when we think we might have given them the gift that never stops giving, the world shatters around us. To think that you could hurt someone that bad, it still makes me sick to my stomach.

Anyways, if anyone reads this, I hope you get a laugh, I hope you also understand the danger of the brain of a man. I always capitalize Women, and not men. I think that sums up how I feel about life in general. Women are so much better than men. Women make men so much better. I keep falling in love with the same idea of the Woman I'll spend the rest of my life. My life has been filled with strong Women and I know I'll end up with one. I've met a superior Woman. But you can't make someone love you. Good things come to those who wait. I really derailed on this blog post.

Enjoy,

Oliver.

Post script: All of my friends have had to deal with my fear of HIV. I couldn't stop talking about it. This is the last I'll ever bring up the subject. LOL

TIE....HEARD

I'm so sleepy this morning. Really tired of my dog waking me up for her regular two o'clock piss....

However, I am SO happy it is Friday. I am SO happy that Sunday we're shooting the short film my friend wrote. I'm too excited about it and should probably just shut-up.

I ate dinner with my Mom's Husband last night. Went to Pig-n-Chick, ate some delicious chicken liver....Oh, God it was good.

My neighbor Andy's future in-laws (Beth's Parents) are coming into town today. We were talking about the last time they were here and when we lived next to each other in another apartment.

It was not pretty. One night, a friend of mine had a pretty bad break-up, so he came over, we got drunk, we got high, we got this and that, and the next day was a total gross, helluva blur. We left my apartment at around 11am, and Beth's parents were outside, as was Andy and Beth. Well, here comes, walking out of my apartment, the two most disheveled looking degenerates you could ever ask to find. Wearing sunglasses and fucked up hair and with a cloud of booze, pills, weed (probably) and a general nastiness surrounding them, looking up and saying "Hi, so great to meet you two!".... HaHaHa! Good times. Thankfully, the nights don't stay that long anymore, and the dipshits who came walking out of that apartment that morning have actually done a a lot in the way of growing up. So, hopefully a second impression will trump the former.


Peace out, Homies. Hope you all have a great weekend. Turkey day is rapidly approaching........yay

Here comes the sun.

So many things to say, so many things to do. Only one girl in this whole world I want to tell it to.

That just came out, might try to write a song around it. SPEAKING OF!!!!

It feels so good to create something. Anything. I'll be honest, this is a secret between you and me and the whole entire internet....I HATE writing songs. With a fiery passion from hell! Am I good at it? I don't know, I don't think so. Here's what I hate about it- The feeling that I can't do the same thing twice...this plagues me. I wrote a song last week that I was quite proud of. After doing some vocals on it, there were a couple of things that I liked and a couple I didn't, but I was afraid if I re-did it I would lose the things I liked about it. Anyways, it turned out beautiful, to me at least. Anything I'm writing and/or recording at home is just for demo purposes only. A starting point if I ever got some studio time. I hate writing songs because it scares me. It scares me that it feels like everything has been done before. And yes, we are all copying each other in one way or another. The bands I listen to seep into my style and BOOM. We all do it, I don't beat myself up over that. There's just a lot of pressure to be clever in song. Who's got the best metaphor? Ya know?

Ok, I love writing songs. I love that after some due diligence, there's something there that I made. Something that means a lot to me. I don't like to write songs about other people or fantasy stuff like some of my favorite musicians. Or maybe I do. I just don't know if I have the imagine for it.

This is a line from a song I wrote last week-

"I kneel down--------and I pray a lot / but I'm not sure----------if it's me to God    /    or if it's a demon to the devil     /      nothing in this whole world is on the level."

I love that line. It's something I've wondered about, it's personal and writing about it seems kind of daft to me.  Is there a line to draw about being too personal when you write? Like I fuckin know. How about this: I'll keep writing my shitty songs as they come around and you might listen. You might not. Either way, I hope that it means something. If it didn't, I don't know why I'd be doing it.

The creator created the creation to create. I guess that's how I'll be looking at things.

Writing, Singing, Acting, Hugging, Painting, Wrastlin with my Dog!.....all good things. and they all belong to me.

I guess this one probably makes no good sense. But I needed to put it somewhere.

PEACE.

I really don't...

I really don't get many things to be proud of myself over. But today is definitely an exception. It's too much to go into, but I figured out pretty damn decent way around a problem and made everybody happy.

Boom.

Also, I'm moving to Beebe. It'll be good....It'll be good....It'll be good....

Blind.

I don't even know how to start this, but I guess I just did.

How could a loved one taking their own life get any worse? Having a bad friend at a time when you're at your weakest, emotionally.

I recently (seconds ago) had a revelation that almost everything bad that has happened to me or around me over the past 7 or so years has been directly related to my problems with alcohol.

I spent last night grieving the loss of a good man, a great friend and someone that I've spent several hours talking with about deep stuff. Stuff that people don't generally want to talk about with someone that they really don't know very well, but that's how we got to know each other, I suppose. I looked up to him in several different ways. This person waited with me at a rehab clinic as I paced around for about two hours trying to drunkenly decide if I was going to sign the admission papers or not. My panic took over, and I did not. Being an alcoholic is no fun, really. After the drive back to my car, he was very gentle in the way that he dealt with me. There was no guilt, no arrogance of his own sobriety. He was just a friend. He was there if you needed him. I wish I had been that kind of friend last night.

As much as I cared for this person, I have a friend that was much closer to him and knew him much longer. As I type this I'm fighting off tears.

Here's what I know about myself: I am an alcoholic. When I drink, I can get to the point of blacking out (this is much harder to do now than it used to be, but happens more frequently) and pulling the hair trigger on my rage. I have been so worried about my friend. I just wanted to be there for him and try and get through all of this together. Instead of doing that, I drank myself into a blind rage. I just now was told what I had done. All I remembered was being charged at and knocked over by my friend and taking a cab home. I woke up this morning with no recollection of the things that I had said or done. After another friend of mine called me and reluctantly told me what I had done and I reluctantly listened to him describe my arrogant, shameful, despicable behavior, I can't even begin to describe how I feel. It feels like someone you love has died and someone else you love wants you dead. He would be justified in feeling that way.

My nature is to care, bring peace, nurture and love. When I drink, I am what alcohol wants me to be- a vessel for destruction and hate. This is not uncommon among alcoholics. Go to an AA meeting and you'll hear and know. I am very self-conscious, I assume everyone is always laughing at me and that the world is in on some joke about me that I don't know about. From what I know about myself and what I've been able to piece together, I assume I felt mocked, for no reason a sober person would think. So, I lashed out. I lashed out on my friends, and tried to fight them. I hate violence with a passion. I wish no one would ever want to hurt anyone or themselves. I hate confrontation (Ironic statement from someone who a lot of people would consider confrontational). I hate being a bad friend. Which I am.

This is nothing new for me. Alcohol has always made the little demons inside me rise up to the surface. I have lashed out at family, friends, girlfriends, strangers.

Over the past few months there have been massive revelations for me. One was that I have come dangerously close to killing myself or others when I've driven drunk. As the result of running my car into a wall and totaling it, and the damage done to my body, I will never drive drunk again. I have come dangerously close to committing suicide, and if it hadn't been for some strange happenings with my family after I took a bunch of pills and drank enough booze to sink a ship, I don't think the paramedics would have gotten there in time.

I have spent some time in AA. in and out. Convincing myself that I'm not an alcoholic and I can control it. After all, over the past month or so I've been quite satisfied with the .99 cent 32oz High Lifes from the local gas station and going home and drinking 3 to 5 of them a night...But the one time I go out. The one time I needed to be a good friend...I was not.

Some people could tell you that I fold under pressure. That you can't count on me when it counts the most. This is true. This is the antipode of what my deceased friend was. If he wasn't genuinely caring towards others, he was fucking great at faking it. But he wasn't faking. He was a good friend, a good father, with his own demons.

I'm starting to believe that people who take their life when they're drunk aren't committing suicide, but just succumbing to the violent nature of alcohol.

Alcohol is not a drug. It is a murderer. It's like the God/Devil thing; The devil doesn't care if you believe in him, he just doesn't want you to believe in God. Alcohol doesn't care if you're dead, it just doesn't want you alive. It is a poison to the brain and the body. It is glorified to the masses as a relaxer, deserved after a long day. What men do. Moderation? How many people do you know that drink in moderation? I think being an alcoholic is more common than not being an alcoholic. It's a tricky little fucker. At first it makes you happy to drink, but after long enough and hard enough, you realize that nothing feels good when you're drinking. It's like asking a smoker why they smoke, they really can't tell you, but they're body could.

Alcohol can take a life, break relationships, ruin your body and leave you broke. While I don't know all the details of my friends death, I can't help but assume alcohol helped pull the trigger, or pulled the trigger all by itself. See, when I tried to kill myself I had had a great day. I was telling everyone what a great day it was, but by then end of the night, I was depressed and ready to die. I had drank so very much alcohol that I wasn't myself. By the time the paramedics had gotten through my front door, I was unconscious and they thought I was dead. They made my Mother and her Husband sit on the couch while they found out. This makes me sick to my stomach to think about. Especially after getting the news about my friend and thinking that I could have doled out that same emotion if my suicide attempt had been successful, and how I never want anyone to feel like that. But alcohol does want me to kill myself. Alcohol wants nothing more than for me to be a failure at everything I set out to do.

Like last night, I drank so much alcohol that I wasn't myself. I turned from a caring, compassionate, sympathetic, sad friend into a school yard bully, apparently in seconds. What the saddest part about this? I may have lost two friends this week. One from the mother fucker that is alcohol, and the other from the mother fucker that is alcohol. All of it was preventable. Definitely not inevitable.

If I could stop crying I wouldn't. I'm ashamed and scared.

I am going back to AA and getting the help that I need. I'm not leaving without a sponsor and hopefully, this will be my last hangover. I think this is the best way I can honor the life of my friend; trying as hard as I can to be successful in sobriety instead of trying to honor his memory with booze and destroying friendships. That is not at all what he would've wanted or done had it been me that died.

This is me. I really don't know what any of this might mean to you. But posting it is my personal punishment for my behavior, a half-assed apology and my tribute to a friend/victim.

Dreams...

Ok. This is something I need to get out of my head and stop dwelling on it. That's what I like about this. It's kind of like I can put something here (on blogger) and let it go, or at the very least- when I see it typed, I feel better about it.

I keep having this same dream. I guess I've been having it for the past 6 or so months. It's always in the same place, and for the most part, the same thing happens over and over. It gets really hard to remember when I wake up. But the feeling is the same. I feel drained out and stressed when I wake up, and sad.

It all takes place in my last apartment. Which I find very weird considering I hated living there (for the most part) and it has been remodeled since I left. Improvements which I have not seen, but would like to, considering that in my dream the apartment has been remodeled.

Dreams just really freak me out sometimes. Like this dream I had last night, a portion of it was the same old dream. But then I wake up and realized that this dream has taken place over a period of weeks in my head. You know, like in Inception.... In this dream, I had wrecked a car, gotten alcohol poisoning, burned a house down....all by accident.... And over a two week period.

Some dreams aren't just dreams. I know that. I had a dream one time that this girl fell off of her second story apartment balcony. I woke up to find that this had actually happened. And happened just as in my dream. Like an out of body experience.

Anyways, I feel a little better about this now. Still tired though.

Off my chest!!!

Fall is here...ish.

I've gotten a dog/girlfriend named Rosie. I got her a brush, food, treats, shampoo and a comfy spot on my bed. She seems very happy, as do I.

I went yard sale-ing Saturday. Got some super cool shit. Records, Art, Books, other...stuff....spent $32!

I shaved my beard and kept the stache...mixed reviews so far. I'm kinda diggin it.

Got the fuck off of facebook and feel pretty good about it. It is weird to see how much it consumes your life when you pay attention to that fact.

I'm in a very creative space with a very procrastinating body. I think I get this way because I get scared of what will happen when I try to take it out of my head and put it on paper....I've got songs, scripts, jokes, poems, all rolling around up here and I'm too scared to get them out. So I forget about them and regret it later. I'm an idiot.

My neighbors continue to be badass. They have a washer and dryer and offered to let me use it. Before I knew it, Andy had folded all my shit and brought it over. I think that's the first time (since I was living with my Grandmother) that anyone has ever folded my clothes. Lol! We watch out for each other and have some good times. I'm glad we live next to each other again.

My goddamn iphone is broken. My Aunt gave me her old one. After taking them both apart I realized that the screen on the old one was not compatible with my new one. So I'm using her old one and looking for parts online. Stupid iphones!

Life is as good as it is short.

I have one addiction I know I can't kick- Women. But I'm doing my best to focus my attention elsewhere.

Booyashacka!

Oh, Music.

My blood would run dry if music were not around. I actually think that if instruments and singing had never been figured out, we wouldn't be here. People say a lot "I couldn't live without music", I would never say "Yes, you could", but I really don't think I could. Music has saved my life, music is the reason I'm alive. I, at every point during the day am thinking about music. How I want to write really great songs. How I want to find the best music in the world, and honestly, I think I have. But there will always be something new to discover. And the way that I discover new music (and old music), I hope that whenever I get around to putting my music out into the world, that someone finds it, and it has that same affect on them, that other peoples music has had on me, even if it's just one person.

The music you listen to is the soundtrack to your life. I really believe that. I'll hear a song and think "How great would it be if my future Wife walked down the isle to this song", or "I really want this song played at my funeral", or "When I propose to a Girl I'm going to play this song for her". There's gettin' drunk songs, there's makin' love songs, there's fightin' songs, and so on.

Sometimes if we close our eyes and open our ears we find what we've been looking for.

ME.

I've been thinking about myself a lot lately. Not in a vein way, but in a reflective way. Trying to examine my character and look for ways to be a better man. I have a lot of obstacles in the way of feeling proud of myself. But there is joy, regardless. One thing I've noticed is I am the least patient person in the world. I hide this well. I've even been mistaken as a patient person from time to time. Truth is, I hating waiting for anything that is good. I can barely wait to see what's at the other end of my life (NO, I'm not suicidal, been there, done that). The thing is, is that I, while not patient, am very good at hiding that fact from others, and myself. When something is going on with a friend and they can't wait for whatever information it is that they're waiting on, I just say "relax, nothing is going to change if, good or bad, you knew right now". I'm no "Guru", I just fake it. Pretending to have great advise is a good way to figure out how much you actually know. I think that's what a lot of people do to an extent because if not, why is it that so many people give good advise and make poor life choices? Ding, Ding, Ding...Oliver is the winner here! But in between faking it and learning from my inevitable mistakes made from not taking my own fake advise, somewhere down the line my advise will be considered sage, and there will be some validity to it.

Does this make sense? I ask any random stranger who might read this to comment on it and tell me if you're the same way.

(This blog went somewhere I did not intend for it to go)

I don't wanna work. I just wanna sleep in my bed all day!!!!

Not really. But maybe more than I did last night. The Wire is keeping me up later than I should be up. Going to bed wasn't too hard when I waited until.......wait for it.....wait for it.......ONE O'CLOCK!!!! ;)

Lots of things to do today. balance check book, check on how I get my driver's license back, pay rent....Oh and work. Duh!

I had the craziest dream last night.

I decided this morning, very suddenly, that I was going to try and quit tobacco today....If I seem like a little asshole by the time 5 rolls around...you'll know why.

Also...

I hate taking showers. I think this is probably the best forum to say that. You know sometimes the hot water feels good and things. But It's inconvenient, makes my skin feel weird and you run the risk of serious injury if you're not careful. I limit my time in the shower and it's frequency of use.

C'mon! It's not like a smell bad or somethin!

I done did it.

So, yesterday was all together bizarre. So busy I didn't even get to take a lunch, but I was able to leave a little early, hoping to miss that damned "get motivated" seminar traffic. Saw an old friend downtown. It was really good to see him. Got some hangout time with my dude friends in last night. Sang 'Walk The Line' at karaoke.

I feel like my brain goes through a pretty noticeable cycle throughout the day...at least noticeable to me. It is as follows: Sleepy/Excited/Sleepy/Slightly Manic/Humorous/Sleepy/Creative/Sleepy but can't sleep. Or maybe that's just nonsense bullshit. I have no idea.

I've been thinking about this movie 'The Philadelphia Story' and how (in the extreme sense) it really seems to be kind of true to life.

There seems to be 3 types of men that a Woman goes for:

1. The Logical man. He's the man that makes sense. He has money, he's not ugly, but he's not beautiful. He's logical because he's a logical decision for a Woman. There is nothing special about this guy except to the Woman that he spends the rest of his days with.

2. The Intellectual man. He's the one that stimulates your brain. He falls in love quickly with a Woman that he thinks understands him and likewise. He wants gold, but he'll take silver in a second.

Which brings us to 3. The Safety man. This guy....This mother fucker. You've seen him. He's the one that you could consider "seasoned". Jack of all trades, Master of none. Kind of floating through life with no real goals or dreams. His dreams are 5 seconds long and belong to other people. I guess I can word that differently; His dream is to help you with your dream. Does that make sense? In a way, a good Woman is all he wants, needs and desires. Familiar faces are the best, but strangers are always welcome. The biggest problem in his life is that he wants what he pushes away. Alcohol is no stranger to this man. He knows it bites more than it barks.

Now, If you've never seen the movie you should. For one, it's set in my favorite City! So was the movie Philadelphia, but I don't ever want to see that movie again.

As for the three types, I consider myself more of the third. Surprised? You couldn't tell by how much more detail I had on the third? Truth is, I think if I was more of the first or second, I'd have more detail on them. But they bore me. Now I know I'm no Cary Grant, nor am I rich (AT ALL), but I get the personality. I get the protective nature of this character. Not jealous, but protective....Watch the movie and decide for yourself. Only Jimmy Stewart and Cary Grant could pull this kind of movie off.

That's all I got for now. Gonna do some work.

Cold

Ok. I would firstly like to say that I am honored to be the first male employee at my company. And no, it wasn't because I'm overtly feminine, because I'm not.

With that being said......

It's too fucking cold in here! Everyday I come in, turn the thermostat up to a reasonable temperature and then around an hour later when other people come in....BOOM! Jacked down to 60 or so. People, we have to come together. You know I hate being cold in the first place! Help a brotha out!

I keep a surplus of hoodies in my office. I'm wearing one now, as I do every morning. But these hands....these hands are like ICE!!!

Much love invisible readers.

Doopahdeydoop!

Yesterday was pretty great in the most simplistic form of greatness.

1. Woke up, made delicious breakfast + Coffee = Me, rubbing my tummy like a bear!

2. Watched a movie, Dylan Dog Dead of Night. Not bad for what you know it's going to be. Also the night before I watched The Beaver. Honest opinion? I thought it was pretty great. Jodie Foster is always perfect and Mel Gibson is....well....he's Mel Gibson. He's brilliant/insane. He pulled off the character great.

3. Wrote a song I really like in terms of what its purpose is. Nice little love song I suppose.

4. Cleaned what could have possibly been cleaned at my apartment. I'm clean. I don't like dirty.

5. Saw my Mom for a bit. Always a pleasure.

6. Joey came over and brought the last 2 seasons of 'The Wire'. When I'm done I'm going to have to find a new show to obsess over.

7. We went out to smoke and saw that his truck was leaking coolant like a mofo and after I found where it was seeping out of, notice that the hole had been plugged up with....get this....A PIECE OF BAMBOO!!! So after much deliberation and experimentation, I got it plugged with aluminum foil and electrical tape. Sounds rigged? It was.

8. Watched some football with Joseph... I have never been able to get into football. I don't mind it. But it's just never been explained in terms that I could understand or find interesting, however, when someone is interested in watching a game (in this case Joey) I don't mind watching it, learning it in the small doses that my feeble brain can take in. Maybe by the time I'm 90 I'll fully get it and enjoy it! But for now, let's go to a movie!

9. Watched the first two episodes of season 4 of the wire. Got too amped to sleep and laid in bed for like 2 hours not able to sleep <---------typical problem.

10. I sleep on a full size bed. This has never bothered me until recently when it feels like nothing I can do will make my feet not hang off the end of the bed. I realize- Papa needs a Queen....in more ways than one. HA!

Good weekend. Saturday night saw a show at a bar, with a lot of drunk people, when you're not drinking at a bar when you drive in lieu of the obvious, it just gets really annoying when two really drunk people, whom you didn't really like when you were shit housed, come and sit next to you and tell you how much they missed you,  wont stop hugging you, and dropping cigarettes. The band was Amy McBride and The Active Ingredient. friends, good people, good show from what I saw.

Hope this week is as good as the last! If anyone reads this, hope your week is filled with joy and good surprises.

This Week...

Such a bizarre week. Between lawyer stuff, work, after-work stuff, girls, Women, I'm just a little tired.

So, I'd like to thank myself for the solid reminder of what it is I'm trying to do here. I'm having a hard time getting rid of guilt over certain things. Things I've said when I've been drunk. Things that happened a long time ago that for no reason whatsoever, popped up in my head this week and now I have this weird feeling in my gut area.

I wrote a song today when I got home from Beebe. It reminds of (and was written for) you. 7 years today and I don't know if I could miss you anymore than I do. I miss your mom too and hope she is doing well. I saw her a few months back and she seemed ok. We don't really talk about you anymore. I think that over the years I've tried to discount my feelings for you by just brushing over the subject with certain people. I would never want to get empathy from a Woman regarding you. How did this fucking post just turn into me talking to you?

I really hope that death is just a gateway. I know a lot of people hold in some form of contempt for even believing in something after death. But fuck them. If I thought that I would never see the faces of all the people that I've lost...I don't know what the point to all this would be. There has to be some point to it other than being a good person. I don't think it's all about what you leave behind but more what you can imagine after.

I'm tired of typing. Right now, I'd like to get drunk, piss off my neighbors by playing my guitar and writing more songs about how much I miss you. but, alas, I cannot do that. I like being nice sometimes.

I do hope that there's enough good in me to make it to wherever you are. You were the best at being perfect, to me. Sometimes I freak over the fact that you'd be 26 too, and how different my life would be if you were here. It really blows my mind.. It LITERALLY makes my head explode. haha.

I think I'm going to post that song with this. Don't want to post it on facebook where everyone would hear it but I do feel an obligation to put it out there somehow, someway. I'm sure if there's a place after death you do know what facebook is. It wasn't around (like so many things) when you were here. You haven't missed a whole lot media wise; Dashboard now sucks, movies are the same. I'm pretty sure you would've gotten into LOST. There's too much to remember to tell you about and I'm still kinda of pissed that this blog turned out to be a conversation to you. But therapy, it is, I suppose.

Love

Oliver.

Whoa.

It's amazing how a couple of years can really change you. I hadn't even looked at this stuff in forever. Thank God for freedom.