what could possibly happen next?

2005-01-24

Blog Explosion Disclaimer

Do you ever read an entry you wrote and just cringe? That's how I felt about the last one. I'm not taking it back because that's the way it went down, there's no point. I just wish that I had a filter sometimes. I think I'm being influenced by the diaries that I am reading on Blog Explosion. They are all so pretty and tidy and everything has it's place. I feel like the poor kid that just moved into the rich neighborhood and I don't know how to act. I don't really want my diary to look and sound like the rest, but I feel as though I stick out like a sore thumb. I guess I'm just a big jumbled mess and my diary mirrors that. Should I be more topical? Write about the current events of the day, write my left wing diatribes against the war, against the President, against the daily attack on our constitution and civil rights that those in power are mounting? I think not. It's not that I don't think about these things. If we talked in person you would be surprised at how political I really am. (Don't forget, I grew up being a punk rock kid. That's not a style or fad, it's a certain way of thinking and living your life. If you can remember that far back or haven't become disillusioned by the corporate mainstreaming of what was once a counter-culture movement. Believe it or not kids, there was a time when you got your ass kicked for being a punker. Yeah, that was actually something you were, back then. Remember, when you are listening to your Rancid and Green Day, that someone actually got their ass kicked so that you had the right to go to Hot Topic and wear Liberty Spikes.) God, I sounded like a hippie just now. OK, all the hippies I have ever given any shit to when I was younger, I apologize. I understand now.

I digress alot. That has to be a combination of the drugs and old age and the 40 that I'm drinking as I write this. Here's what I'm trying to say. Even though I feel awkward saying it. You need to hear my voice too. I exist. I know that there are thousands, if not 100's of thousands like me. We're not perfect. We make mistakes. We sin. We fall short of the mark. We don't throw stones at others, because we know too well the sting. We can't always just get along, because we are too damaged for that. We do try. If you could, please excuse my little shack and the rusted cars in the front yard amid the weeds and uncut grass. I'm not asking for understanding. Just a little respect. Just a little bit.