Mixed feelings. What to make of them? The story so far is anything but glamerous, but I have been enjoying myself here in Lawrence. I absolutely love it here. The enviornment, the people, the college, the sports, the bars, the girls. All of it. It's a great place to be.
Like I said it's been anything but glamerous because I've no means of income thus far and have been scraping by only by the grace of my parents who have been very supportive since they day I left home. I'm quite surprised--in a good way--that they are making the effort to help me out when I know they don't have much to give.
I missed the big extravaganza of a concert on Friday. It was Blink-182, Weezer, Taking Back Sunday and many other bands, but those were the main bands listed on the bill. It was pretty much an all day festival that started around 2, so everyone was gone by 1 P.M. Literally everyone I knew in the area was there except for me, so I had nothing to do that day and no one to hang out with. I sat at home all day. Downloaded some albums. Cooked a decent meal. Watched George Lopez. Called it a day. I didn't even go out when everyone got home. I'm not really too upset that I missed it. I was never a huge Blink-182 fan and I had just seen Taking Back Sunday this summer.
I went to the KU football season-opener against Northern Colorado on Saturday. It wasn't 'til 6 P.M. so we had all afternoon to get drunk, and did a damn good job of it. I'll admit I didn't so much like going to the game trashed. It was still good but I just wasn't there like I should have been. I'll definitely drink before the games still, just not as much. It was ridiculous though. The game was declared a sell-out a few days before gameday. The stadium holds 50,071 people and there was a record setting 52,350 people there. Most attended game in school history, pretty crazy to be a part of that. The game was a blow-out--though not the way the coaching staff envisioned it, I'm sure--with the Jayhawks coming out at the half with a 28-0 lead, for a final score of 49-3. After the game I went home, drunk and tired. I just didn't have it in me to keep partying even though it was a Saturday night.
I'm looking forward to going to see Every Time I Die w/Bring Me The Horizon, Oh, Sleeper and Architects (UK) on Thursdsay in Kansas City. It's gonna be at the Beaumont, which I like because you can smoke inside. I'm going to the show with Kelli Karlin--Rachel's younger sister--which is random as just about anything you could possibly think of. I posted something on Facebook seeing if anyone wanted to go for the umptenth time and finally she responded to it and--to my surprise--wanted to go to the show.
Ashton will be there as well, so I'm excited to see her too. I haven't see her since...prom? Wow. Has it really been two years? Fuck...I hate realizing how fast time flies.
Well anyways, that is that and that is all. I'm still unemployed and will be broke again after I go to this show but it will be well worth it.

3:10 to you, ma.

I had the craziest dream just now. I can't go back to sleep until I get this one out, or, at least, what's left of this vivid dream. And I mean vivid. So it should be fresh in my memory.
It started out with me and Russel Crowe in 3:10 to Yuma in what appeared to be a public area. We were at the bottom of a set of concrete stairs that seemed to lead to a train station. We seemed to be partners in crime, as he was describing our next big move with his back turned to me. He was kneeling down, putting his guns in a briefcase but before he could finish I pull my gun on him. The click of the barrel stops him dead in his tracks and he turns to look at me over his shoulder. "Do you really think you have what it takes to kill your own partner?" Without hesitation I pulled the trigger but I was out of ammunition. I quickly reach for his gun and gain possesion of it, he stares straight down the barrel without flinching. I was unsure of how to use his gun. Before I could react he slapped the side of the gun, hitting the magazine release button. The magazine hit the floor and he took off running. I chased after him and shot him in the leg, severly wounding him, but not enough to slow him down.
He left his briefcase full of weapons but I didn't care for any of his weapons, I just wanted this beautiful glass pipe that was inside of it. As I took it from the briefcase I heard a woman's voice yelling, "Don't hurt him! Don't hurt him!"
"Shit, it's my mom," was all I could think. I ran back down the stairs but the common area somehow shape-shifted itself into an exact replica of my old room. [Except the room was set up how it was when I was really young and had to share a room with my sister because our house wasn't finished yet. There was two twin-sized beds instead of my one full-sized bed.]
I quickly went to hide my guns and things under my bed and my mom walked down the stairs as I layed down on my bed. She started walking about the room picking up my dirty clothes scattered throughout and she made her way over to my bed. She knew I was up to something. She immediately searched under my bed and found nothing but dirty magazines [that I never really had to begin with], took them, and went on her way.
I must have taken a nap because I was awakened by noises coming from outside the walls of my bedroom. I looked up at my window and saw the silhouette of a man glaring right through the shades. He poked his head in, turned to me and locked eyes. While he climbed through my window, another man walked in through the front door and into my room.
I was scared shitless because I knew what this man was capable of and it didn't help that he went this far to deliver a message; strictly revenge. I asked him what they did to my mother and they began laughing histarically. They seemed amused by the fact that I would even bring that up.
"You're mother isn't home to save you, I'm sorry."
"Where did you guys take her?" I replied.
"What are you talking about, you moron? She wasn't here when we got here."
I got up out of bed and walked to my front door to check for myself. There was no sign of her vehicle. I thought, "Where the hell could she be?" I checked the time, it was 7:08 P.M. It was a Wednesday. She was at church, of course. I walked back into my room and there were several people gathered round, but this time there was also a few familiar faces. Luke Knoll, Trevino, Ed Ruiz and Jordan Ottoway were there. I tried to gain their friendship back by asking them to please help me out. I offered to give them the pipe that they came for.
"Hahaha well we're gonna kick your ass either way dude," Luke Knoll responded, but in a way that only those who know Luke and his sense of humor, when under the influence, would understand.
Jon Urban showed up to my house and played a very neutral role. He knew I was in trouble but he knew there was nothing he could do. Before I knew it, there were more and more people coming over, apparently to party at my house. I didn't invite any of these people but I couldn't really object. I figured if anything they would buy me some time to figure out how I was going to survive this hit.
It wasn't too long before the people partying in my house started to get progressively drunker. I walked around my house watching everyone to make sure everything was okay. I was a prisoner in my own home. I walked toward my room again and saw a fight break out in the bathroom, and then in my parents' room and everyone soon emptied out of my house. The mob of bad guys exited with them.
It was only me and Jon Urban left at my house. Relieved, I turned on the TV only to hear someone pull up to my house. They drove an old Econline van, much like one that my dad used to drive. As he walked up to the door I recognized his face. It was the soccer player that dated Amalee Dykes a little over a year ago. His face was all beat up and he was wearing a trench coat to keep dry from all the rain.
"Holy shit, look who it is...come in dude, come in!"
"What's up guys? You wouldn't happen to know where to get any weed would you?" he asked.
"Haha nah man, I totally just pissed off anyone who would possibly know where to get any," I replied.
He went on his way and we went back to watching TV.
"Wanna go to the mall?" Jon asked, I couldn't really think of anything else to do to kill some time so we went. We got separated as soon as we got there. I headed toward Pacsun to check out their clothes even though I hate their clothes and would never buy any of them. Jon came from the completely opposite side of the mall, I was confused but not alarmed. Pacsun was at the heart of the mall, there were no doors to it, just entrance after entrance after entrance from every which way. The clerk asked if we needed any help.
"Nothing, I want nothing," we both replied in unisin like something strange out of Fear and Loathing meets Alice in Wonderland. We walked through the store and exited out the other end, which led to the other half of the mall.
We walked into a place where they sold smoothies and I walked straight to the back and helped myself to a strawberry smoothie. The manager walked up to me and took it from my hands and asked me why I was late. I was really confused and began to make my way out and things started to become a strange hallucination. Crazy people were running around and falling into manholes that did not exist minutes prior to that. The manholes took them through the world and dropped them back on it right next to the manhole they fell in.
I fell in and all went black.
I woke up from this dream to the sound of someone knocking on the door. I ran to the door, still somewhat drunk from last night and opened it, only to find that it wasn't someone knocking. It was the massive thunderstorm that was pouring down on us early in the morning.

anything but the truth.

Shake it out. That's what I'll do, just shake it out. This feeling. This want. This urge. This nothingness inside of me. But it's gotta be something. It's gotta mean something. It would mean the world to me if I could just find the words to get it out. Shake it out. Spit it out already.
What would you do to take it all back? Start over. Chapter one, page one. Writer's block, already? But you've just begun. This is the moment you've been dying for. This is your chance to throw it all away. Everything you've ever worked for; every mistake you've ever made.
This isn't about you and me.
This isn't about being right or wrong.
This is about living with the choices you make.
This is about the time I couldn't make up for what I did.
This is about a time.
It's about time we established a connection. I'm glad we're on the same page, but I'm afraid we haven't yet started writing the first chapter.
The audience is patient but they can only wait for so long.
Patience is a virtue I do not posess.
Scribbling furiously. This pen must make haste for I have a story to tell, and I'll tell it well.
I'll tell all of a boy whose heart was good. He understood right from wrong but still would rather sing a song than to sit and talk such foolishness. He made his parents proud for in him they found a blessing. They were understanding of this boy whose heart was filled with joy and knew better than to second-guess him. A good, young Christian boy was simply his cover up, a mere decoy. They soon found out he was not this boy they had envisioned. Their hearts were crushed by this head-on collision. They said he'd fail in a life without God and that he'd be a wreck. But he grew tired of this facade and left the restaurant without paying his check. He went along singing songs and moved on with every intention to prove them wrong. He thought he would be better off so he simply laughed and scoffed, but he should have seen this coming. He lost his all; he lost it friends. He lost his way, death was the end. His family gathered at his grave site. They exchanged words, "It'll be all right."
And so you have it. You haven't changed a thing.
You started where you left off because you love to sing.
You sang all day to block the noise coming from little girls and boys.
You sang all day because there is no wrong way to sing a song if no one knows it anyway.
You sang all day because anything sounded better than the truth.
Give me anything but the truth.

lying, tangled tongues.

The words you tried so hard to say
Crumpled as you wrote them down.
Honesty without the modesty.
A single word could end it all.
The request and the response.
But you've rolled your tongue up in a lie;
Forever caged behind your teeth.
What was that you tried to say?
Spit it out, the venom will only sting momentarily.
Let this be a reminder for the remainder of time.
I should've known not to trust you, snake.
Like Adam, I fell for the oldest trick in the (Good) book.
The heavens opened up and we were refused.
And now I must live this lie with you.

we're going to hell.

It's been a good month since I've even visited my blog.

Now here I am--one month later. One month wiser, older, darker, fatter, etc...
The point is I'm here, the question is why?

...And they're off.
And they were moving so fast.
So fast--but they didn't think to stop.
You can't stop this from happening.
Sit back and watch, your friends are going straight to hell.
(No corner stores, no rest stops)
They didn't think that the wind would catch their drift and sweep them under the bed like the photographs that tell the stories you wish you would forget.
You waited too long to sing the song of salvation.
Now we sing the song of separation,
And they will live with their regrets.


I had a dream earlier today while I napped.
I layed on the couch and I was woken by my mother, who seemed to be alarmed by something. The television aired a college baseball regional game. I sat up and tried to recall this dream I just had about my friends going to hell. It was so vivid and real. I never felt more worried for the lives of my friends in my life. And I thought, why do I worry for them so? I'll worry myself to death at the rate I'm going. And then I thought, isn't it weird that I'm not always this worried about my friends? I know not everyone cares this much about other people at all times and it worries me that they don't.
Take some time to let people know how much you care about them, you never know when it'll be too late to save them from themselves.

mix tape

Sometimes it's the simple things in life that make me the happiest. Listening to a good album I haven't heard in a long time is up there with one of my favorite things. It's like re-discovering and falling in love with that entire album all over again. It's like I can travel back in time to that moment when I first fell in love with this album and I can remember everything about my life at that exact time in my life. Armor For Sleep's "What to do When You Are Dead" always reminds me of going to warped tour for the first time, Silverstein's "When Broken is Easily Fixed" reminds me of sitting in biology class next to Anh listening to our Sony Walkmans, Copeland's "Beneath Medicine Tree" reminds me of a time when I was totally infatuated with Ashley Taylor and everything happened as a result of that. These are just a few but I literally can name a memory for every album I used to listen to back in high school.
Driving around for no reason and listening to music is also on the list of things that make me happiest. Combine driving and listening to a CD that brings back memories and you're in for a doosy. Feelings of nostalgia return from a time when driving around with the stereo cranked as high as it would go--without blowing the speakers, of course--blaring that CD and screaming the words along to it like nothing else mattered...and it didn't. For that time, in that moment, alone or not, nothing else truely mattered. Not your college exams, not the fights you keep having your parents, not the bills you've neglected to pay, global warming--totally real, BTW--...what have you. I would throw my phone in the backseat and drive for hours because moments like these are too precious to allow any interuptions. Stop lights? Fuck 'em. Someone pulls up next to me and I'm gonna keep on rockin' out because they don't matter and I could care less if anyone thinks I'm crazy.
This makes me happy. I like writing things down even if they aren't what everyone would really want to read. Sometimes I feel like people expect me to piss excellence when I'm writing something...so it's nice to just write for the sake of writing.
I guess the only reason I'm updating is because I was listening to Brand New's "Your Favorite Weapon" and I just felt compelled to tell the world how I felt about it and I kind of got lost in that whole mix.
Have a good day.

tweet tweet!

So I've joined the bandwagon of all bandwagons by creating a twitter account just this weekend. My joining this revolution has already stirred up many arguements, cat-calling, and some down-right nasty things have been said. It's okay though, now that that's all said and done with I can get on with my "tweeting" and you can all follow me on www.twitter.com/giantswan -- I know there's a way to get it on my blogger but I haven't taken the time to figure that out yet, so until then, if you would like to, you can visit my twitter page and see what randomness I'm up to on a daily basis. I'm only suggesting this because I can update that from my phone so it will be a lot more current than my blog--as you can see it's been 2 weeks since my last update--and probably more entertaining.
This is good for me I think so I don't waste your time with random posts on here anymore and I can sort things out a bit.
So be looking forward to that...or not.

the company, the comfort, the grave...

Things have a funny of working themselves out, and by things I mean the truth. The truth that most people seem to neglect or forget. Maybe not on purpose, but it happens, and one day it comes crawling out from the depths of the cracks in the pavement --or wherever it is 'truth' hides-- and hits you in the face the way a louisville slugger would destroy a jack-o-lantern on Halloween. The truth finally knocks everything into perspective.

Someday, in the event that mankind actually figures out what it is that this world revolves around, thousands of people are going to be shocked and perplexed to find out that it was not them...sometimes this includes me.

You realize your place in life and your place in everyone else's lives. You realize that maybe you aren't who you thought you were and maybe you aren't who you thought you were to everyone else. It's a little shocking, overwhelming really. You'd be surprised at how much you realize once it hits you. You realize that maybe you aren't the glue that was holding everyone together and that you aren't the reason that someone wakes up every morning. Maybe, just maybe, you aren't as cool as you thought you were...or maybe you aren't as irreplaceable as you thought you were. You start to realize all these things and you think, "Wow, I was so wrong about a lot of things." Congratulations. Admitting you were wrong is just the first step. Admitting to yourself that these aren't just crazed thoughts pouring from the walls of your insides due to severe paranoia. These are just facts. Facts can't be proven wrong. These are things you pick up on a daily basis. A simple gesture can tell you everything you need to know about your relationship with someone. You see it all the time, the question is: "Do you notice? Do you ever take the time to think about how you might change someone's day by simply smiling at them?" It's true. Try it sometime, you might feel like you did something good for once.

I sometimes feel like a dog. Dogs are always happy to meet new faces. Dogs trust way too easily and give their love and friendship without asking for a whole lot back. Dogs run around having casual sex with different partners and don't really make the effort to take their partner out on an official date. Sometimes dogs get put outside in the cold though. But as soon as you let them back in, they're just as happy as ever to see you...and it shouldn't be that way. Dogs should bite back and bark, "Fuck you asshole, it's cold outside and I get lonely too!"

I feel like I'm too nice sometimes. Not that being nice is a bad thing, I could just be more of a dick sometimes so people don't think I've gone soft and try to walk all over me like it's been happening oh-so-frequently as of late. I hardly ever get to be myself...my true self. People need to realize that I have feelings too and that they get hurt, whether or not I show it or let you know. People need to realize that I am taking the time out of my day to spend it with them. Don't think I have a big head or anything, I don't think that anyone should take that for granted. Too many people take spending time together for granted. I mean, I could be doing a dozen other things but I'm not...I'm here with you so, for my sake, at least pretend to be happy so I don't feel like I'm just hanging around for no reason.

I've been trying this thing lately where I hang out with all my friends, sort of evenly distributing myself amongst my friends--well, the ones I have left in town that will actually take time out of their day to spend it with me--just so that they see me less often and maybe, just maybe, they'll be a little more excited to hang out instead of seeing me everyday, 24/7 and just get used to me being around. Maybe they'll call me more often than I have to call them when I want to see them. --Like that's really gonna happen--I've conditioned people to me always being the one following everyone around. It's kinda like marriage...after the first year there's nothing new to talk about. So what's the point?

What's the point? No one reads this anyways.

I hate to be the only one having these kinds of epiphanies. I feel it would do people some good to realize things before it's too late to change anything.

Apathy is a cold body.

Well it's officially been a week since I've posted anything. Don't worry you didn't miss out on much. I've had the last 3 days off from work so I've been doing a whole lot of sleeping in and getting better acquainted with my couch...you know, just trying to find my true inner self and what not. I guess they call it "soul-searching", but I wasn't searching for anything more than a simple answer. But I don't know what I need answered. I guess maybe the fact that I don't really know what I'm doing with my life. At this stage, not a whole lot. Living week in and week out as if tomorrow will bring a greater joy.

There is no way to make up for these 20 years.

Barely able to keep the lids open.
At times I might think I need the past,
but who would want to go back there?
It's already hard enough to say I need it.
Bad memories and good times...
Keep me from believing that I can still jump off.
No longer the same.
You grow accustomed to seeing the sun in a different location.
Standing still becomes a chore.
Anxious to get the pavement moving.
The easy solution is to leave this and everything else and move on.
But they find ways to drag you along
and dismantle what you created.
Having this is not having to fend for yourself anymore.
Happiness is not having to lie on the floor dead and alone.

Surely there had to be a way to feel okay.

The funeral for Tyler was yesterday at 11:00 A.M. at the Garnand Funeral Home. We showed up pretty much right when it was starting so we didn't even get a seat. We stood in the entranceway and listened to the service from there. The entranceway was actually really full too, so I guess if we were a couple minutes later we might not have fit inside. It was a nice service, they had (what looked like) hundreds of photographs of him up for display taken from his myspace and everyone else's who had a picture with him in it. It didn't feel right though. I couldn't bring myself to believe he was no longer going to be with us, not until we got to the burial at the Syracuse cemetery.
I didn't know what to say to anyone. Nothing seemed normal. I stared at all the faces of people I once knew very well but weren't so familiar anymore. It was awkward but nice at the same time. So many people whom I had so many things to say to, but not a word would flow past my lips. And I thought: It's sad that here, I'm reunited with all the people I used to be really good friends with and I probably wouldn't have talked to any of these people in a long time, and I know they wouldn't have gone out of their way to talk to me, if it weren't for all of us being here because our good friend Tyler died. It's sad that it takes something like this to bring people together because we don't care enough to keep in touch. It's sad that no matter hard you try things will never go back to the way they used to be. It's sad that we forget to tell people how much they mean to us until it's too late, and then you can only hope they knew all along that they meant more to you than what you lead on. It's sad that all I can do is write about this.
This song by Terminal called "Foster" has been stuck in my head all day at work. I couldn't help it and I couldn't get it out of my head. And it's making me sick.