Archive for November, 2005
Go Go Gadget Randomness
Nov 30th
Round and round she goes. Where she stops? Nobody knows.
Work has just been utter chaos lately. Between keeping the new people in line, dealing with any problems that arise (especially at customer service) and trying to make us look good, I don’t get time to sell much anymore. Then again, when I do get a customer, it’s one of those people wanting to pick my brain dry before going elsewhere to buy the damn TV. It would be nicer if you would just kick me in the nuts instead of wasting my time. I’m pretty sure that would be less painful than answering the same questions over and over again.
Neowin has been just as bad, in some regards. It seems as though money changes people. I won’t say anymore.
But, alas, there is good news children: New Music! Both Fort Minor (headed up by Mike from Linkin Park) and Korn have new albums out and both are fucking awesome. The Fort minor one is a great rap album with some really deep songs on it that truly make you think. It’s ten times better than any of the crap 50 cent puts out. Then, we have Korn’s album which is a completely new sound for them. It takes some adjusting to and I’m not sure it’s going to replace their earlier work, but it’s still kick ass. Songs like “Liar”, “Coming Undone”, and “Hypocrites” really bring the roof down as the band tears through each song with awesome driving power.
For all the older gamers out there: Do any of you miss the old Need for Speed series? Man, I’ve been playing Most Wanted and it’s pretty good and all, but damn it’s nothing like the older games were. Those were pure chaos every single race. The good old days are gone, I guess. It’s sad to see a franchise I used to love slipping slowly. Hell, most young teens now don’t know anything about how the game used to be. Joe can tell you, though. Get two McClarens on the desert track in NFS 2 and you can have some damn good fun.
The wheel has stopped. You lose. I win. Game Over.
Middle Ground
Nov 30th
Middle Ground (11/30/2005)
At times, inside, there are two voices screaming
Both of them yelling about everything I’m feeling
One filled with rage and burdened down with hate
The other is struggling to just find his place
So I hide in disgrace and keep you at a distance
I give in a little and then show some resistance
Cause I don’t even know who the fuck I should be
I’m here at a place with this stuff stuck in me
Yet, you trust in me, as if I deserve it
Is there a point or a motive, an alternative purpose?
A vision distorted with these two different versions
It’s a weight that leaves me here feeling so burdened
But, perhaps I deserve it, and I should keep bleeding
And get used to the life and these two voices screaming
As the fire is leaving, I feel more like a quitter
Everyday that I fade, it’s so cold like the winter
Frozen and lonely and nobody knows me
Few people see the whole truth that is flowing
The pain isn’t slowing, but just changing with time
To be more like confusion that is choking my mind
I’m done and I’m finished, I can’t even write this
My brain is a blank, this confusion is mindless
Don’t ever mind this, I just need to keep venting
The thoughts in my heart that can be so upsetting
I don’t think that I’m ready, but here comes the rush
The chaos inside that leaves me with one lust
To find my own middle and balance it out
And find my own voice between silent and loud
Notes: A little simplistic in structure. This one is about the feeling of having two different people inside you and being left so worn out and torn between which way to go.
Wallet Man
Nov 27th
Wallet Man (11/26/2005)
You sit there and talk without a single shred of evidence
I sit and respond without a single trace of hesitance
The whole damn precedence on which you have built this
Came to a fall when somebody else milked it
And used you for your money and tag and nothing power
They were pissing people off and doing it by the hour
Your cash can be a flower or grow upon your trees
But these words behold the power that is sown down into me
And so now I’m interest free with nothing left to pay you
I won’t get on my knees, there’s a million to replace you
I’m ready willing to face you, but you won’t accept the facts
That the people all around you will never have your back
Cause to them you’re just a wallet and some hardware there to use
You could have sandals in the snow, but they wouldn’t lend you shoes
They’ll let you turn all blue just as long as you keep paying
For the fun they love to have and the cash they all are saving
Little kids, never changing, but you’re too blind to see
The perfection is the tree where you play your hide and seek
Hidden from the world until you fucking get off
Stroking at your power until the bomb has set off
But I refuse to head off until I get out what I must
It’s like a fucking head rush, this shit must be my lust
Laying out the facts that you never comprehended
Then watching you get mad as you up and try to end it
But my very final sentence was stronger than your first
The ones there in the middle had also made you hurt
I’ll be kicking up the dirt just to making my fucking point
Ready kids? Observe how I make this kid annoyed
Notes: I tried to be nice and civil, but he had to do things the hard way. Okay with people making you look like an ass? So be it. Allow me to join in.
Crown for a Queen
Nov 26th
Crown for a Queen (11/26/2005)
If this life could have a script, would you like to be the writer?
Setting all the roles for all the pacifists and liars
Give them something to aspire for before it’s all taken
While the evidence states that everybody was mistaken
Then put him in a corner, crying, shaken and nervous
Away for a bit while he contemplates his purpose
Cause the sands of this circus, the one you have us living
Only tick slowly by so we can talk about the sinning
And so it seems only fitting that I should sit and write this rhyme
To present you with the moment to shine inside the light
Filling up your inner pride so you can dwell inside the honor
This crown is for the queen of the self created drama
No one could ever stop her as she quickly writes these pages
Lines to memorize as we get put back in our places
Dancing on these stages inside exaggerations
And now everybody’s evil or is labeled as a traitor
Cause, in her dreams, we hate her and are filled with fucking spite
And there’s nothing that we do that will ever be done right
Cause she’s looking for a fight and the drama to excite her
In a world where’s there’s calm and nothing to ignite her
The rumors right beside her are the only things that guide her
She prays for the day she becomes a day time writer
Writing scripts and the scenes that she tries to make us be
Giving notes to the cast for the time that we should bleed
So she can sit there and scream and feel like she has a purpose
Instead of sitting still and always feeling worthless
Is it fun to fucking hurt us and bore us with your casting?
It’s the same everyday and I can’t tolerate this lasting
Notes: Everyone knows at least one person who dies to find drama in the most meaningless situations. This is a rhyme that discusses such people, a bit. On a side note: Why do I always seem to get things out in 28 lines?
Addict’s Twitch
Nov 25th
Addcit’s Twitch (11/25/2005)
I’m staring at the screen trying to get myself inspired
It’s like I want to scream but the skill in me’s expired
It feels like the fire inside is about to be extinguished
As I sit here and twiddle both my thumbs and all my fingers
But it lingers inside my mind and I can feel it calling
The sound of my world crying as I can feel it falling
And I’m dying to release the pictures from within my mind’s eye
Instead of sitting silently with vision like a blind guy
But walking on the fine line and searching for ignition
Dangerous to the point that I need to make admission
Itching to vent myself without finding something hurtful
Nothing’s coming out and I’m stuck running in these circles
So, I’m trying to write something simply for the sake of it
But I refuse to go the way of simply fucking faking it
And now my hands can’t type it because of all the shakiness
An addict in withdrawal and he’s at the point of hating it
Because the radiance is still something that he clings to
He has to feel it’s weight before writing it to bring you
The meaning’s not defined ’til he’s lost hope and his spirit
To the pain inside his mind, then using words to clear it
Holding it to steer it and just make it entertaining
Bringing you along with him as he does his best explaining
Windshiled wipers on because it’s always fucking raining
At the moment he’s inspired, the tears from all the straining
Never waning until the calm has struck his inner nerve set
There’s something in explaining that I’m not over this hurt yet
Something to erase the pull of addiction at it’s finest
And bring peace to every nerve that was twitching with such violence
Notes: Second one today, though “Fucking Hidden” is A LOT better. This one just discusses how bad writer’s block can be for someone like me. I also wrote it in hopes of helping Joanna get inspired again since she’s also hit the lovely writer’s block part of being a writer.
Fucking Hidden
Nov 25th
Fucking Hidden (11/25/2005)
I stood waiting for the train at 86th and Bay Parkway
Listening to the music and just thinking of my dark ways
Living in a scarred haze of never trusting people
Labeling their smiles as misgiving and so evil
Feeling fucking feeble as she whispered I’m a cutie
She was smiling back at me as if she fucking knew me
A girl with fucking beauty that I smiled and turned my back on
The confidence I had is what I lack just like a sad song
She had low rider pants on and was showing off her tatoo
Eyes to stop you cold ’til she knew she fucking had you
But the darkness fucking stabbed through and made me turn away
It blanked away my mind ’til there was nothing left to say
And so I walked away as I could hear my inner voices
Bickering between them ’bout all of my damn choices
The protection out of fear for rejection from another
Leaves me so alone in a world without much color
Feeling fucking smothered by the weight of my frustation
Tearing out my veins as I lose my sense of patience
The eternal agitation summed up in one damn moment
Where I had her in my grasp and I could not fucking own it
Man, it kills to me to still see how much I let the feelings guide me
‘Til the point that I’m asleep, I will always let them hide me
Where no one will ever find me, not even Mrs. Low Rider
The one who isn’t weak and won’t let her coma guide her
Cause she didn’t have the fear of the open opportunity
I wish I could have seen and she could have gotten through to me
It must be fucking lunacy to think the world will spite you
From behind the hollow shell that you use to fucking hide you
Notes: It’s pretty self explanatory, though this is probably one of the few times I ever talk about one specific situation with such detail. I was thinking about my retardedness while waiting for the train and well, the rest says it all. The title? Well, I curse so much in this one, I figured I might as well cap it off with one more.
My Bible of Rebellion
Nov 22nd
My Bible of Rebellion (11/21/2005)
I wouldn’t even know to breathe if it wasn’t for rhyming
A pen prick to bring to me my heart beating and timing
Those times that you can’t find me, I’ll be next to the pen
Both of us pouring ink ’til the cracks in us mend
Then we pack it in cement and give it a title
Another page for you to read, my biographical bible
Every line is a recital of something from deep inside me
It’s not smut or fucking libel, it’s just me and my mind, see?
But why did you it Chris? Why’d you speak that way?
Cause it’s the way I fucking felt and you better believe my pain
There’s no way that I see to change the world all around me
So I have to take it in before the weight of it drowns me
Though, the way that you found me, was horribly sounding
I only cursed her out to break the hurt that would constantly bound me
Simplistically sounding is the way that I write shit
And the healing doesn’t care whether or not you all like it
Whoa, let me slow it up and show a little compassion
Let me gain all my composure and speak in this fashion
I should show appreciation for the fact that you feed me
All the lies that I need to give you more rhymes for reading
So when I hit the ceiling, I’ll remember to thank you
Instead of using words to simply turn on you and shank you
We should all keep our daggers hidden deep in our closets
Because nobody cares to see somebody who’s honest
No, you only want polish and a sense of perfection
Though it’s a sign of regression to show a hint of rejection
So fuck my disgression and just assimilate to maturity
And let go of the hate, the only thing that is pure to me
Well, I hate to break the news, but I’m not going to buy it
This sense of rebellion is nothing I should keep private
It makes me feel vibrance when you can only see misery
And the loss of the feeling would assuredly finish me
So stop staring and hitting me and trying to end this
Every single breath that I breathe is a silent new sentence
You can put up you fences and use all your anonymity
But I know what is precious, the only skill that is fitting me
Notes: Technically, it’s a little rough around the edges, but I’m only breaking out of another writer’s block slump. The piece itself is about the feeling of rebellion, while I also take some time to highlight (a little) how the people who usually complain about my writing are the ones who usually inspired it in the first place. Just something different from me.
Mellow and The Bug
Nov 19th
I’ve been mellow lately. Brain drained would describe it, I guess. Stress at work, all the stress with my computer, writer’s block, and general confusion over things with Maria (yes, she’s back) and I’m just worn down. It’s a grind every day through everything I do and it doesn’t seem to be letting up in the near future. Yet, I’m only mellow. Not angry or frustrated or depressed, just mellow.
Work has been just out right retarded. It’s a weekly game of get schedule, get pissed over lack of hours, and then beg for more hours. I really think my manager hates me because he simply won’t put me on. Nevermind the fact that I’m training the new people and I do his job (Thursday, I did all his work while he chilled all day), he just keeps snipping back on my hours. He originally had me set to be off on Black Friday. There are only 3 other people in the whole fucking department who have worked the day before and two of us (Travis and I) are scheduled to be off. The only reason I got hours that day was because someone changed departments and his shift was left in the air. What kind of leadership is this? The harder I’ve worked, the less I get from it. I really am trying, though. I bust my ass day in and day out. Alex, my old manager and possible manager if I ever get that senior position in Merch, even thinks the way I’m getting low balled is unfair to me. I’m just not sure what else to do at this point. I want hours. I want to work. I’ve worked through my personal problems and am finally ready to get out there fully and I’m being held back. Fuck them.
With the stress, though, comes that addiction to competition. You know how in sports movies, they always refer to someone as having “the bug”? That bug, for me, is coaching. I was dreading coaching this year. I had a game today. I found out about it last night and finally got through to my team a half hour before it started. We got creamed. No one had their own jerseys. We hadn’t had a practice yet. Still, through all that, I loved it. The passion and intensity, the competition, the thrill. It’s so damn addictive.
One of the Neowin kiddies tried to start in with me today. I’m so mellow, I didn’t even bother being an asshole. That was probably for the better, lol.
I really don’t know what else to say. I’m a little torn at the moment. Toni is fresh and new and someome who still intrigues me. Maria, on the other hand, is someone I feel a connection with, albeit we’re very different people. I think I’ll try to hang out with her more often and see what happens. If nothing, well, at least I’ll have something to write about.
Back on Solid Ground
Nov 18th
Well, I finally got my new computer and, as of now, everything seems to be ok. Last night, I had an issue where my PATA WD HDD would not get recognized by my nforce4 board. After some research, it seems the particular drive has had known compatibility issues and there was nothing I could really do except buy a USB adapter for it. This allowed me to get access to my backup files. Today, with great dismay, I’ll be spending even more money to buy a second SATA drive since my useage really demands a dual drive system. For those worndering about my Firefox builds or NexNote/NexPad updates, I have no tiemframe for either right now. I haven’t been able to enjoy a computer for a while and the last thing I want is more work.
Rest In Peace
Nov 14th
I didn’t want to post this yesterday because I didn’t want Stage Fright or Hypocrites on Earth to get pushed too far down the main page so quickly, but there’s no real good reason I should hold off anymore. You will be missed Eddie, you will be missed.
