BITS AND PIECES

You have no idea how many unfinished drafts I've got here.

Actually, let me correct myself. You have no idea how many unpublished drafts I've got here. I mean, they're all finished. But I've been afraid that the things I think and write have too many holes waiting for opportunis--I mean, trolls, to poke and prod at. I mentally beat myself over it, and here they sit, grayed out and abandoned.

I don't want to use this as an excuse to catch you up on what's been going on in my life since the last time I've written...which would be about July of last year. What am I, a television series? "Last time...on Julie..." A flashback ensues of vague happenings that indicate drama, controversy, and cliff hangers. The target audience rants and raves about it on Facebook. I hide their posts like I hide those stupid list video posts.

It's been about 3+ months at the new gig, and I truly enjoy it. My coworkers have often times commented on how quiet I am, and how they couldn't possibly imagine seeing me angry. I usually smile at my duo-monitors as I continued clicking away, letting them fill in the blanks without any word bank to reference. A couple months prior, I was taken aback by their astonishment when I flicked out a hunting knife in an attempt to help one of them pull out a splinter. I immediately retreated to my desk and meekly suggested a needle as an alternative.

In these past six months, I would say that I've worked more on myself than anything else. I don't regret it one bit. My mother, who has littered my lifetime with the stern advice to never have any kids, has reached the point where she thinks "just one" is fine. I don't think it's necessarily selfish of me to hold off, or have none at all. I like my sleep and sanity. Overpopulation is an ignored issue in America, or in any place where people feel like they need to fill a void created by their peers.

I've learned to appreciate myself a lot more than I have before. I thought so little of myself, mainly because the kids in elementary school and junior high school led me to feel this way, excluding me from whatever cool thing they were into. Writing notes about how short I am and folding it into faux-envelopes and wallets. I don't know. I think it was because I didn't have cable when MTV was in. It's a funny thing that these particular kids didn't really make anything of themselves, and an even better thing that MTV has lost its meaning. Not to mention its music.

There is no one else to blame but myself if I continue this phase of self-loathing, so I've been trying my hardest to get out of it. Sucking out the poison left a bitter taste in my mouth nonetheless. It's only human nature. I know I'm rambling, but who's reading and judging me? I'm just about as credible as some blogger who's sitting in a coffee shop telling you 15 Ways to Go Fuck Yourself. And not even as popular :)

Hi, Gary. I don't know if you're reading this, but I haven't even met you and we've known each other for years. For the rest of you who don't know, Gary is a fellow I met from Soul Pancake, a web forum created by Rainn Wilson to spark questions and discussions. He's never failed to tell me that I've got something - a voice - and that I should keep writing. Whether he's right or wrong, Gary never failed to encourage me in something I enjoy doing in my own time. I have him and all those friendless summers as a child to thank for my interest in writing. So many thanks to you.

I'll try to make this a regular thing. Not for anyone in particular, but more for myself.

ON REPEAT

Doing a little experiment on myself.

Gonna write some things down, stop when I've hit a brick wall, then drink. Anything I write after I drink is under the "Not Sober" section.

Sober:

Wish there was a monetary incentive for getting your taxes done early. The sooner, the higher the compensation. I'm sure there'd still be stragglers.

Every year, I try to squeeze every dollar back from both federal and state. As the imaginary coins jingle and jangle in their pockets, I shake harder. I could have sworn there was more deducted from me last year than what I got back. Touche, government.

Money rants aside, I recently came across a blog of someone I know. It was filled with long words that made little sense put together. The thesaurus was her bible, but her understanding of it was quite limited. And I get it, I get it. She was just trying to seem mysterious and philosophical. All I got from reading it was grayscale pictures of household items and a try-too-hipster vibe. And I've got nothing against her - nothing! College and exotic-looking friends will do that to people. Well, it did something to her.

Not Sober:

Shit talking aside, I didn't really mean to shit talk. But I have a feeling I'm going to. I'm not even in a bad mood or anything. I mean, what I really want to do right now is make a fruit smoothie and mix little EDT tracks on my iPhone with the volume on blast.

My mind wanders...

I always feel primitive when I'm scratching my head. How can you look smart scratching your head? We've familiarized ourselves with the notion that scratching one's head is symbol for stupidity or dull thinking. But you know what? My head was itchy.