Dirty Laundry (HostGator)
*This blog post was started on January 29, 2024.
On my last podcast blog (Wonka, A Dangerous Method...With Shoes On & The 3M Movie Marathon), I stated that my life has been a comedy of errors recently. It is still January, so maybe 2024 is just not my year.
The thing is, I do not feel like that. My money management has improved. The part-time job is going pretty well. Podcasting has been working out fine. Everything has just gotten there by awkward means. At least I am blogging again.
Of course, that is because of my anal-retentive nature. ninetyforchill.blogspot.com was given a new layout after I decided for ninetyforchill.com to forward to my podcast feed instead of the blog.
Lets not even get into the drama from HostGator that will seemingly result in the top Stacia Hardin page being deleted. She is worth $15.99 a month to honor despite I was never informed this was going to be the price. Every cable company that I am familiar with gives you notice that the price will increase.
HostGator is worse than Mediacom. I guess Stacia would respect me dropping these assholes, but money to let those she touched in her life reminisce about her is not a big deal to me. Then I am told that the fees they do not allow to show up in my order history will not be refunded despite promises that they were, on two occasion. She would not approve of me being a prison bitch.
I still need to continue this blog. Hell, it has to get back on track. This is not a podcast after all. But, how can you not admire Stacia telling me to stand up for myself? There are definitely souls. Thanks for supporting that belief and thanks for the encouragement.
Encouragement is something a new friend says that I need DOT DOT DOT.
I'm So Ronery (or Just Broke)
*This blog post was resumed on January 30, 2024.
Please pardon the interruptions. I am still trying to get to bed at reasonable times. As I type this blog post up with no odd topic to get to (be it anime or my fine criticism of pro wrestling), it kind of illustrates how I do not have my life as together as I was feeling. When left to recollect, the false sense of confidence is shot down.
The day this post started, I got a "I'm not that into you" message from a girl following cheesecake and wine at her condo in Peoria. It just felt good to be told that our acquaintance with each other was not going to evolve into a romantic relationship instead of just being ghosted.
Was I interested in sex? As a guy who has not been intimate with anyone in the past three calendar years, yes. As someone courting a person who lived ninety miles away? If we had not found instant chemistry after date one, no. I think we were more interested in telling each others stories than actually connecting. She is a woman who is very career focused in an effort...
We are Facebook friends, so going into an amateur psychoanalysis probably is not wise. She broke me down as just needing to receive encouragement. That is something I have received very little over the past 25 years.
There was Stacia primarily. Then there were times when my best friend actually has artistic inspiration that she can you me to fuel. It is great that I have my wrestling trainer, Danny Daniels, who was willing to believe in me against his initial judgement. If only the rest of the world was so kind.
That may sound a bit cruel to Allyson. Where would the trash feature review segments be for "Ninety For Chill: The Podcast with CatBusRuss?" without her. But, she knows she has never been an empathetic person. It is great that she is trying to work on that. My opinions of finding it through Evangelicalism...
Again, she might read this blog.
It is getting close to midnight, and I still have the final touches to add to this week's podcast reissue, "The Lost Boys with CouchManBakes". This means I better wrap up this portion of my yarn. My new friend says I was a great storyteller. That is probably how she might have left thinking my brain is stuck at the point when my best friend thought fucking some asshole meant she was beyond the trauma she based her half of our friendship from. With that, I am left at thinking, encouragement may make me a better person, but am I worth encouraging?
*This blog post was concluded on January 31, 2024.
I was just about to look up another song title to incorporate in the blog post's title, but my feeling of mentally slipping makes me want to conclude this post and the thoughts I had.
Would you not know it, I had to talk a friend down from a panic tonight. Makes me wonder if I can handle a relationship. Granted, this is from a friendship established before I was recruited onto the ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Trivia Team, so stability does not tend to be a feature of my closest friends from my past.
After trying to get them to promise they will not continue to over react to a series of events involving a friend who lives hours away, I am trying to get my head back on straight. They called to ask about what I had learned from my 2004 to 2006 drama. The situations that led to me flaking out on my pro-wrestling career the following year. It was basically me just telling them to not make similar decisions and hoping Pandora's Box was shut. Then again, my conclusion was it was not their place to force themselves into problems they think maybe occurring. But if someone asks for help, I would help.
And I guess I am left wondering where the fuck those people have been in my life. Stacia could at least haunt a few people in my direction.
It seems that I just think too much because I did not expect this blog to take such a twist. At the beginning, a tough start to the year was nothing to me. Rolling with the punches is something I am good at. Did I get that way because I knew no one gives enough of a shit to step in?
The "Ronery (or Just Broke) portion of the title was supposed to conclude with me just saying that I do not need a girl for romance, just to pay half the rent. It would get me out of the corporate retail that is becoming HostGator and allow me to devote my time selling booze. Knowing my luck, something would mess the career up. It is happening at my primary retailer that took four years to by my primary income source. The prior favorite job, Mark Twain Hotel, circumstances fucked me over in a month after landing a full-time position.
My existence is insanity (and a bunch of Nine Inch Nails songs). Every time I seem to have a break, I get broken. But I pick up the pieces to only get broken again. Rocky Balboa at least got a motherfucking payday. Where is my payday?
Am I not attractive enough? I am not a pet, so cute does not cut it.
Am I not mature enough? Everyone ends up telling me to knock off the dreaming.
Encouragement is what I need. But that takes other people's time. Fuck me if I hope for money.
I am told to be happy because I try to succeed at my dreams. And then I am told to grow the fuck up. It just feels like I am told that I am not supposed to succeed. So I am suppose to accept failure and fake it the rest of my life?
I guess I am not worth fighting for. Now, bitterness may fucking define me.
It is a good thing I did not title this blog "We're in This Together Now".
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