show and tell

My apologies to anyone who has tried to comment on my blog only to face the prospect of being moderated. I revamped a few links here and there recently, and I thought I had rendered my comments section open to all, as it had been in the very beginning... but instead I think I just made it worse. After a while I began to wonder if I was just being paranoid, but when I retooled my blog settings I figured out what I had done and rectified the situation.

I am hoping that this is the reason why I haven't received any comments lately. If it turns out that the real reason I haven't had any comments is because I suck, then that's just how it is I guess.

The comments section is wide open again. My stalkers have been away for quite a while, and I believe they have learned their lesson: Never mess with someone like me, who has too much time on their hands and a natural affinity for mischief and prank-pulling.

I never intend to take it that far-- it just happens. Somehow, the universe manages to hand me the keys to the ignition of Trouble, and I start the engine and rev it up and take it for a test spin... and before you know it I'm doing donuts on your front lawn.

Over the years, I've mellowed out a bit but not by much. I'm hoping that by the time I'm 40 I won't have the urge to be so gleefully anarchic and trickster-esque.

Then again, maybe I'm hoping for too much.


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I have been forced by my landlady to move out by the end of the month. My lease was up and she elected to not renew it, mostly because I was late with paying my rent for the past three months. I could blame it on the paucity of work at my current job but even though entertainment jobs are inconsistent like that (jam-packed for three months and then three more months of nothing) I have to admit that, way in the back of my mind, I wanted to get out of this place and start anew. Otherwise I would've made more of an effort to reassure my landlady that I wanted to stay.

I then realized, after kindly discussing the terms of my departure with her, that my stubborn nature never allows me to give up unless it is absolutely necessary. Rather, I tend to stick it out until another party is forced to take action, which motivates me to get up off my ass and do what I should've done long ago.

In the past 365 days, I've lost a girlfriend, a well-paying job, and this apartment. In each case, I'd overstayed my welcome or ran the course as much as I could, and in each case I didn't have the good sense to know when enough was enough. Only when drastic measures were taken did I make any moves on my own.

Instead of breaking up with Eve, she had to be the one to call it quits. Instead of just quitting my job, I pushed it until they were left no choice but to lay me off. And now, with this apartment, I have done the same. I knew the rent increase in March and the neighbors vacating their homes was a foreshadowing of things to come, but I stuck around and tested the limits, as I always do.

Doing things that way seemingly absolves me of any guilt or regret. I can blame others for my misfortunes instead of taking any real responsibility. Then, when I "overcome" the odds in the end, I can point the finger and say, "Ha ha, you didn't beat me. I'm still standing!"

Such ego gratification...

I'm not worried about finding another place, though, because the slogans written underneath my blog title say it all about me these days: "Everything happens for a reason. There is no such thing as luck. Timing is everything."

I'm not just saying that to make myself feel better either. I firmly believe in those three sentences and what they constitute. I have always felt like that, but I never articulated it that way until I met someone a few months ago who put it into perspective for me.

You may know her as the mystery girl whom I have blogged about recently.


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I don't want to divulge her identity in any way, nor will I supply her with a pseudonym for blogging purposes. To be honest, I didn't even want to blog about her at first, because it tends to wreak havoc on my interpersonal perceptions of the opposite sex. But I couldn't hold it back. I just had to testify about her.

However, I've set some rules up for me to abide by:

1) She will remain anonymous.

2) Although our status as friends or lovers is not nebulous or vague, I will not assign a label or category to her in these blog pages.

3) I will not go into explicit detail about anything we've done or plan to do.

4) I will leave out the events and occurrences that only serve to confuse me and addle my decision-making abilities. There has been plenty to write about concerning this girl, and I've selected only the things that matter the most to me to lay out for any readers I have left.

You all know that I am capable of baring my soul and showing off my vulnerability in my writing... thus, I feel like I have nothing more to prove in that regard. I would instead like to focus on the moments I share with her and how they make me feel, as opposed to ramifications and consequences and other various ponderings.

In short, if I write about her too much I fear I will jinx it, as I've done with others. Therefore, I'm keeping it on a comfortable level and I'm surprised at how cool I am with that notion.

It's not Show And Tell time anymore.


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Well, what time is it then?

It's time to wax poetic. It's time to carry out imaginary agendas and formulate honorable schemes. It's time to take off the kid gloves and put on the Man Hands. It's time to piss caution into the wind while wearing nothing but a raincoat.

It's time to hesitate when a kiss is ready to plant itself on her lips, only to find itself nestled in the nape of her neck and burrowing deep into the well of her soul.

It's time to dig up all the buried hatchets and take them out to the shore and throw them wholesale into the briny sea, where they will rust and rot and disintegrate without a trace.

It's time to admit that I am scared and afraid, and that I love feeling that way because it reminds me of everything I have to lose vs. everything I have to gain.

It's time to fulfill prophecies and follow through on convictions and cast more predictions and topple all the follies and the sophistries concocted to swallow me up in their diversionary riptide.

It is time for all these things and more, and I have a feeling I'm going to be writing in this blog more often. I don't know if I'll ever match the pace of when I first started, but I'm not going to rule out that possibility either.

It's time to move, literally and figuratively.

Let's go.