THE PIMP SLED
-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------JOURNAL
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ENTRY: (07/26/2004)
This is extremely frustrating. I have so many things I want to write here, but I know that I can't. Not right now. Not just yet. I have to restrain myself. And the sad thing about it is that I -will- be able to write these things in my head and my heart out in approximately four months, but once the waiting is done... I won't even care to anymore. My life will be very different by that time.
So I took a walk earlier tonight (well, actually, it was at around 3 am, I think, so technically this morning), and thought about sorting myself out, and what I could do to channel some of this... energy. I came to the conclusion that I will paint you a picture. However, it should be noted that it won't be painted with brushes and canvas, but with my words and memories. So, without further ado...
Our story takes place in the year 2002, in the small city of Groton, Connecticut, as I usher you inside an ancient, eroding 1940s building that was sloppily given a face-lift in the 1980s. A four story building, we step out into the middle of a placid corridor on the highest floor, the entire passage way sponged in an empty pallor, like a bleached or bone white from ceiling to deck. The corridor is empty, except for a single denizen. It is a young man, lying on his back with both feet pressed against the opposite wall. He is on the phone with a young woman, and they both seem to be enjoying the conversation. A large, beaming smile is upon the young man's face as he sends and recieves every word, and his joy does not fade at all.
This scene continues to play out for hours, until finally, the party on the opposite end of the line must depart, only briefly, for some sort of endeavor at her home. As she makes to leave, three words are hastily spoken to the fleeting woman.
"I love you."
"...what did you say?", she comes back to ask.
"I'll talk to you. Later," he replies.
"No, I don't think that's what you said. What did you say?", she inquires again.
A long silence passes between the two, before the young man answers. An unusual shift threatens the young man's heart, and although he has already committed himself, it is only now that he realizes that she may not be likewise committed.
"I... I love you", he feebly offers with a subtle tone, fearing that reciprocation in the proclamation will not be obtained.
"... I love you too.", she finally responds, much to the young man's disbelief and joy.
"I can't believe I just said that", he states. "I don't say it unless I truly mean it."
"I know", she assures. "And I do love you."
"... I love you too."
He lets her go, and clutches the phone to his chest, brain racing and heart beating furiously in his chest. This was all too fast - too perfect, almost. But he knew how he felt. But how could he love her? They lived thousands of miles away from each other - he had not even met her yet. But he believed in what he had said. He did love her. Why was it bothering him so much? He hadn't wanted to admit it to her, but the words had accidentally come out on their own. Almost like it was out of his control. Like it was supposed to happen.
The young man got to his feet, slowly, a smile as broad as the one he had had while on the phone adorning his face, and he walked confidently into the room, setting the phone down. He paced the small apartment, going over everything in his mind as he waited for her return call. He pondered his decision, and whether it was the right thing to do. He came to the conclusion that he did honestly love her, and it was time that she knew that. And it was only that much more of a release to know that she felt the same way. It was like a thousand super novas had gone off in his heart at once - he was filled with happiness that threatened to leap from his chest if he could not make to contain it. He believed that this was only the beginning of what would soon come to be the greatest thing that had ever happened to him.
Now, it is the year 2004, and I am in Norfolk, Virginia, sitting before this computer, typing this very entry. I am reliving the pretty picture I painted with words and memories. I am reliving my story. In this small home that I have furnished, energized, and made alive again - the same home that I started to build alongside a woman who is no longer here to watch it collapse - I now know that on that day, back in 2002, that that conversation - those three small words I spoke to her - was the worst thing that I have ever done in my life.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ENTRY: (07/14/2004)
Please hold his hands, palms up, so you may see the gift that they are to you.
These are the hands of your best friend, young and strong and vibrant with love, that are holding yours on your wedding day, as he promises to love you all the days of his life.
These are the hands that will work along side yours, as together you build your future, as you laugh and cry, as you share your innermost secrets and dreams.
These are the hands you will place with expectant joy against your stomach, until he too, feels his child stir within you.
These are the hands that look so large and strong, yet will be so gentle as he holds your baby for the first time.
These are the hands that will work long hours for you and your new family.
These are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, for a lifetime of happiness.
These are the hands that will countless times wipe the tears from your eyes: tears of sorrow and tears of joy.
These are the hands that will comfort you in illness, and hold you when fear or grief wrack your mind.
These are the hands that will tenderly lift your chin and brush your cheek as they raise your face to look into his eyes: eyes that are filled completely with his overwhelming love and desire for you.
Please hold her hands, palms up, where you may see the gift that they are to you.
These are the hands of your best friend, smooth, young and carefree, that are holding yours on your wedding day, as she pledges her love and commitment to you all the days of her life.
These are the hands that will hold each child in tender love, soothing them through illness and hurt, supporting and encouraging them along the way, and knowing when it is time to let go.
These are the hands that will massage tension from you neck and back in the evenings after you’ve both had a long hard day.
These are the hands that will hold you tight as you struggle through difficult times.
These are the hands that will comfort you when you are sick, or console you when you are grieving.
They are the hands that will passionately love you and cherish you through the years, for a lifetime of happiness.
These are the hands that will hold you in joy and excitement and hope, each time she tells you that you are to have another child, that together you have created a new life.
These are the hands that will give you support as she encourages you to chase down your dreams. Together as a team, everything you wish for can be realized.
Bless these hands that you see before you this day. May they always be held by one another. Give them the strength to hold on during the storms of stress and the dark of disillusionment. Keep them tender and gentle as they nurture each other in their wondrous love. Help these hands to continue building a relationship founded in grace, rich in caring, and devoted in reaching for perfection. May you see these four hands as healers, protectors, shelters and guides.
I take you to be my wife, my partner in life and my one true love.
I will cherish our friendship and love you today, tomorrow, and forever.
I will trust you and honor you.
I will laugh with you and cry with you.
I will love you faithfully.
Through the best and the worst,
Through the difficult and the easy.
What may come I will always be there.
As I have given you my hand to hold,
So I give you my life to keep.
I take you to be my husband, my partner in life and my one true love.
I will cherish our friendship and love you today,
tomorrow, and forever.
I will trust you and honor you.
I will laugh with you and cry with you.
I will love you faithfully.
Through the best and the worst,
Through the difficult and the easy.
What may come I will always be there.
As I have given you my hand to hold,
So I give you my life to keep.
Entreat me not to leave you, or to return from following after you,
For where you go I will go,
and where you stay I will stay.
Your people will be my people,
and your God will be my God.
And where you die, I will die and there I will be buried.
May the Lord do with me and more if anything but death parts you from me.
Late at night, when the wind is whistling at your bedroom window ... think of me. It is my whisper to you that my love is never far from where you are.
When you hear the rain on your rooftop ... think of me. Hear my tears falling, but not all tears are of sorrow. Hear my tears of joy and gratitude also, for having had the blessing of your love.
When you lie awake in bed and hear the thunder shake the heavens ... think of me. It is my memories you hear, memories of your sweet love moving mountains in my soul.
When you sit alone on the riverbank and hear the currents run... think of me and and remember the nights we spent together... swept away by currents of passion and into rivers of emotion.
When the sun wakes you in the morning ... think of me. Rise with the joy you gave to me by awakening within me feelings I believed were dead forever.
When you're alone ... think of me. Feel my love. It will be with you, always and forever.
To have and to hold.
To love and to cherish.
In sickness and in health.
In good times, and in bad.
Until death do us part.
Until death.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ENTRY: (07/08/2004)
It's been quite some time since I've written anything here. Seems I manage to throw some text down whenever there's a life-altering event taking place in my life. And, like you'd have guessed, there is. Only this time, I'm not so sure that the outcome will be a happy ending.
A happy ending really seems like the last way any of this will end at all. A deployment is a rough thing on a young marriage, anyone will tell you that. But I never thought I'd ever be on the brink of a divorce. And the really sad part about all of it is, is that I'm ready for one myself, even after I promised myself I'd never wind up like my parents. You just can't live life like that, giving so much of yourself away to someone else, and then ask for it back when things get hard. Or, at least, that's what I thought. But maybe sometimes things just get too hard, or the person you married has grown into someone you don't like, now. When your barely out of your teens, what do you expect? That's hardly half a life lived thus far. Of course there's going to be change.
And being underwater for 6 months, missing my first Anniversary in the process, changed a lot in me. And it's hard to fight it back, to be the person I used to be. I still can't sleep more than 4 or 5 hours a day, and it's been three months since I got back from deployment. I can't even get back into a normal sleep cycle. How the hell am I supposed to succeed in becoming the 'old me'? That's odds stacked against me from the very beginning. Setup for failure.
And why does it always sound like I'm whining in these paragraphs? I wish I had all the qualities that she looked for in someone. Did anyone ever think that not being able to dance would destroy a marriage? Yeah, I know, me neither. And my distaste for country music. I must be a fucking criminal.
God, I really don't even know what to type. I might have done things to her, to make her want something, someone better, something, someone else other than me. I might have been that overbearing or angry with my attitude, but I've put up with just the same, snippity attitude and name calling and whatever else. But you know what, I've never ran away from home to find the bits and pieces of what was missing from her that I wish she did have, with someone else who had them. There's a million things that I love on and in a woman that mine just doesn't have. And I can be shallow for the sake of it, and say that I wish she had bigger boobs. I prefer C cup women. And I'm married to one with mosquito bites for tits. I can handle that. Or a smaller nose, so that I might actually get to see the person that I kiss. But you know what, I laugh about it and think it's cute anyway. Or I could say that I wish she was more independant from her family and not such a spoiled brat all the fucking time, but then again, I'm the one with the fractured family tree and all. And I might even go so far as to say that I wish she'd finally get a fucking job so that she could waste all the money she wanted to doing the shit that we can't afford now, even though it's still held against me that we never go anywhere or every do anything. I'm sorry, but I forgot that I pay every fucking bill that comes into the mail box, I paid for every fucking piece of furniture you sit and sleep on, I pay for every mile that you drive in my fucking truck, and every fucking Ding Dong you eat while watching fucking Maury, -I paid for-. And by the way, YOUR WELCOME.
Oh? What's that? Cellphone ringing again? It must be your best friends, John and Evan. Better answer it! Don't want them thinking you're actually married or anything. Go ahead, go see them. I'm sure they can't wait to dance and laugh and fuck again. I know how happy they make you. Don't worry, this rant will be here for you to read when you get back.
Call me the fool, it's alright. I'm pretty pissed at myself for still loving the same woman. Maybe I should go out and find one with a job so that we can have a little extra cash. Or find a 'friend' with C cup breasts, because I'm on a severe lack of chest flesh as of late. Sorry, I'm happy with my wife, just the way she is. What the fuck is so wrong with hating country music? You know, you don't have half of what I like in a woman, but I don't go fucking making 80 girlfriends so that I can have everything that I do like, that you don't have.
You see, I'm not some fucking puzzle that you get to break apart and rearrange as you see fit.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ENTRY: (03/18/2003)
So I'm here by myself, now. Jen flew out of Boston on the 17th to spend some time with her family, birthday and all that. I used to get annoyed at how loud and obnoxious she constantly seemed, always talking and always to me. But now, this studio apartment is eerily silent. It's kind of strange and ironic, how you miss those sort of things. Probably pissed me off the most, but now I'm really missing it. Like her hair, EVERYWHERE. I keep picking them up around the house, it's almost like she's still here, what with the amount I've collected up since she's be gone. My mind wanders into space, thinking of where she is, what she's doing, who she's smiling at. Talking with. I wonder if she ever even thinks about me at all. Didn't get any phone calls last night, so I'm guessing it's not as often as I think about her. I've come home from school for two days now, inwardly hoping that there maybe a chance that she'll be in bed when I get there, or outside of her building, waiting for me to pick her up. No such luck yet. Opening the door to my apartment, discovering her abscence once again, it isn't very uplifting. And life now doesn't seem as fun as it used to be with her. I feel like I got a divorce.
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ENTRY: (11/14/2002)
Each day, here in mundane style, sitting
Texts and lessons, extremely hard, hitting
Yet the one thing that's always on my mind
Throughout all, that beautiful girl I left behind
My love for this woman, so uncanny, great
At long last finding her, I know such was fate
This gorgeous star has given me everything, given me life
Thoroughly thankful for each day I'm given, to call her my wife
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ENTRY: (10/11/2002)
It's about four in the morning here, and I can't really sleep. I guess that makes it actually the 12th, but fuck it. It may be because I took a nap for about four hours around 2 this afternoon, but I think it has more to do with the thoughts running through my head. I wrote a letter to Jennifer, one I never sent, two or three weeks ago that I probably shouldn't have written, and it's been haunting me for awhile. I know I wrote it when I was depressed and angry about things unrelated to her, but the thoughts are still there. I threw it away because I had remembered it about a week ago, when I was happy, and was disgusted by the ideas I had put down on paper. But now, I think some of those ideas weren't entirely too bad to have, and that frightens me a little. Am I lying to myself now, simply to make her happy? I used to do that, for the ones that told me they loved me. It never really got me anywhere. Well, it did, but it wasn't anyplace anyone ever wants to be. A place that hurts, and doesn't stop hurting for a long time. I really don't want to go back, but sometimes, I see that happening between us, and I don't know why.
There's this song that's started to come on over the radio here, one I had thought romantic in the past, one that conveyed a few of my emotions about the relationship I have. I had even wanted it to be the first song that we danced to afterwards, but now I listen to it, andit makes me sick to my stomach. I don't really know what to say about that one. It's like there's something wrong with me, like I won't allow myself to be happy for more than a few days. I have to invent or create some reason so that I can return to a negative state of mind. Like, a few days ago.. I had been the happiest I've ever been, just talking to her over the payphone. But the day afterward, I started thinking about her past, everything she's done up until now. It immidiately wore the content I had into disappointment and... I don't really know. I just know from then on I couldn't stand thinking about her. And to think! I'm supposed to be getting married.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ENTRY: (09/11/2002)
December 7th, 1941
Honor
Courage
Commitment
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ENTRY:(08/16/2002)
I HAVE BEEN BRANDED
----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ENTRY:(07/21/2002)
Testing, one, two, one. Ah, the journal of Altitron emerges once more, having been MIA for at least a year. I haven't written anything from my heart or mind since well before I enlisted, so this is pretty much a crank of the key, hoping the engine that drove me once before manages to start up once again. At present, I think I have enough source material floating around in my everday life to make for a pretty decent read. If not, well there's another mundane life meandering about in the world, no need to pay it any attention.
I've got a new girlfriend, Jennifer. Can you believe the fucking luck I have with chicks of that name? Christ. Going back home in four days and spending as much time with her as I can before I class up, because Christmas is pretty far away. She's 20, going to college for Business Management after having decided BioMed wasn't her thing. Pretty smart girl. She's been engaged twice before, but neither of them worked out. Once to a guy in Airforce, no less. She's done the long distance relationship crap before, so on my end that's a bit of reassurance. Seems she's had bad luck with guys, though, and hopes it begins to change with myself. I don't plan on proposing to her anytime soon, hope she can live with that. All in all, the only downfall of it all is that she's the best friend of my dad's girlfriend, can you believe that? Fucked up. Either way, I doubt they'll last, her being 21 and my father 44. Jerry Springer shit. In the least, I've met a gorgeous girl, who loves to cook, is going to college, and manages to put up with me. Shwing.
As for other things, military life sucks. I have a feeling I'm not going to re-enlist. I mean, a retirement check at the age of 38 would be nice, but I've gotta be there for when my daughter grows up, ya know? I think I'm going to take the money and run after my contract is up. Head to some college in Hawaii (where I hope to be stationed after A school), or move back to the continental states and hit the books with the $36,000 I'll have from my GI Bill. More than likely, it'll be UT, because we have a thing called the Hazelwood act in Texas, which will pay for college in full if I run out of the GI Bill. That is my future. How quaint.
Can you believe my style has been stolen, and turned into something the likes of Pokemon and Harry Potter? Everywhere I look there's these yokels with this shit called 'live journal', with buddy lists and gay as fuck banners and personality tests all over them. Back in the day, we opened up a book and gushed our hearts out until our little brother stolen it and read it and told all your friends about how you think Sally is cute and you like her teeth and you're afraid to ask her out because you have a third nipple. How... monoplistic! I should have copyrighted the online journal thing, damnit. Moochers, all of them. Although I must admit how funny is looking over them. Silly ass people.
At present, I'm inking Launch Octopus, after having taken a bit of a break from the M3:DP character picture gig. It's nothing spectacular, I can tell you now, but I think it's what the whole thing calls for. Just a picture of the guy. I wish Andre would let me go out of the lines! Or I wish I had bigger paper. I like doing the ACTION POSE thing, but I can't stay in the page. It's like a three year old with crayons trying to apply the proper colors that best express the melodramatic battle between Bulbasaur and Raichu. My earlier Storm Eagle picture was a flop, but it served as a visual reference for a picture I plan later down the road. That armor he had was the shit. Oh, and Fencer Naiad asked me to do a picture for free. You just have to take those with a grain of salt and pat them on the head and smile. I guess they don't realize how much work goes into this thing? I like to give them the benefit of the doubt, but sometimes it's just fucking annoying. Twenty bucks isn't much of anything compared to THE GOD DAN and his shitty Transformers comissions. I can do that, but he gets paid what? 200 bucks now? What a conceited fuck. I'd like to get hired onto Marvel or DC, or something, after I get out of the Navy. Drawing comics for a living would be too fucking cool. No one's taking submissions anymore, though, the losers. They must have heard I was interested.
And now, the moral of the day! Jesus loves you, even though he doesn't exist!
