I hung out with Jim last night. He and I are such good friends now. He is now my hetero life-mate. I'm stoked for his drum competition coming up. If he wins, he's going to take 10,000 and we are going to go to Europe. Just have a month of fun, then come back. I so hope he wins the competition.
Having my sister and Dane out of the apartment for the week is great. While I love my sister, that girl makes more mess than an earthquake. Everywhere she goes, there is a wake of mess. So since she is gone for the week, I've taken it upon myself to clean the apartment. So far, our other roommate Chris has noticed the change. He loves it. I came home last night to hear the stereo cranked up, blasting out some old van Halen. I love all his stories, the all start with the phrase "Dude, you'll never believe ..." Every story. "Dude". He's a funny guy, some of his stories are hillarious.
So I've been trying to write my mother a letter. It's really hard because we have a strained relationship. The problem is that I'm the only one who notices. She just tells me that I get too worked up over politics. Then I cite documents and facts to her that bolster my position, and basically tells me I shouldn't get worked up over these things. Now coming from a woman who forced me to go to church every day, to live a lifestyle that God would be proud of, and who preached endlessly to me about how to treat other people, her total disregard for people when it comes to politics is breathtaking. She thinks I'm foolish for getting worked up. She doesn't know the facts before she votes, she just votes along with the American Taliban, as it would be. It is a willfull ignorance that causes me to be unable to speak to her. This letter is very difficult. I still love her, she's my mother, but I have to be blunt enough that perhaps she'll understand what I'm saying, but I'm trying to do it without my normal confrontational attitude. I don't want her to cry, I just want her to get where I'm coming from.
I'm so happy right now. Life is treating me like a king, and its damn good to be king.
-Aaron
Having my sister and Dane out of the apartment for the week is great. While I love my sister, that girl makes more mess than an earthquake. Everywhere she goes, there is a wake of mess. So since she is gone for the week, I've taken it upon myself to clean the apartment. So far, our other roommate Chris has noticed the change. He loves it. I came home last night to hear the stereo cranked up, blasting out some old van Halen. I love all his stories, the all start with the phrase "Dude, you'll never believe ..." Every story. "Dude". He's a funny guy, some of his stories are hillarious.
So I've been trying to write my mother a letter. It's really hard because we have a strained relationship. The problem is that I'm the only one who notices. She just tells me that I get too worked up over politics. Then I cite documents and facts to her that bolster my position, and basically tells me I shouldn't get worked up over these things. Now coming from a woman who forced me to go to church every day, to live a lifestyle that God would be proud of, and who preached endlessly to me about how to treat other people, her total disregard for people when it comes to politics is breathtaking. She thinks I'm foolish for getting worked up. She doesn't know the facts before she votes, she just votes along with the American Taliban, as it would be. It is a willfull ignorance that causes me to be unable to speak to her. This letter is very difficult. I still love her, she's my mother, but I have to be blunt enough that perhaps she'll understand what I'm saying, but I'm trying to do it without my normal confrontational attitude. I don't want her to cry, I just want her to get where I'm coming from.
I'm so happy right now. Life is treating me like a king, and its damn good to be king.
-Aaron