Torn

Even the most daring explorer/adventurer grows tired and weary of having many makeshift houses, but no home. I, also, am feeling torn over a life spent looking for more, but settling for less. The dreams full of aspiration and having roles to fulfill that only God knows, suddenly are being replaced by a feeling that the memories I have made are the most fulfilling task I'll complete. A quote from one of my favorite movies, Garden State, seems relevant to quote here:

" You know that point in your life when you realize that the house you grew up in isn’t really your home anymore…all of the sudden even though you have some place to put your shit, that idea of home is gone…or maybe it's like this rite of passage…you will never have that feeling again until you create a new idea of home for yourself, for your kids, for the family you start. It’s like a cycle or something. Maybe that’s all family really is: a group of people that miss the same imaginary place."

I want to contradict myself on my feelings about this quote, I want to know/feel/see that my home is still standing, more firm than Elton John's elton john at 1/2 price pizza night at Chuck E. Cheese, but the idea of it all is so much more than I can wrap my mind around, it seems. I guess I forfeited my "home" life the first time I moved, which was to college, 6.5 hours away from home. I couldn't have felt more free. No more sneaking cigs, I was a modern day 18 year old college kid, a "hardass" per sei. No time to reflect on the time I had spent in a loving, caring home since I had been born, I was ready to conquer the world as if it had laid down right before, white flag in hand.

A dorm room had become my home. Cold, dark, and moist as it was, it was where I put myself and my shelf. Things about home no longer interested me, I was on the prowl, from "st. louis", "music business, you?", "o that's cool, never been there?", and " wow, you're music business, too?" Belmont engulfed me. Little did I know that I had drown before my first paddle.

Home. Not on my mind. Thinking of time away, not the time of my next stay. When I did take trips home, I stayed, shooped, slept, and ate at myself. Saying anything more than that occurred when I visited home would be a lie. (and honestly, I now see the reasoning why my parents would want me to stay longer, and that I apologize for, but that's a whole different blog.) Friends were on my mind, not family, or time spending with the 'rents.

Summer came, and passed. Halfway through, I found myself living, what I thought to be, the dream. Moving into my own house in Nashville, with some of my closest friends, with nothing on the agenda but nothing. Literally. (Things are going slow, I'ma speed up a little meow, try to ketchup). I found myslef at the best and the worst I have ever been living in this "utopia" style of life I had made my mind believe. Many things I am not proud of occurred. Many, many things. But stories they now are, and in the past the happened, and nothing I can do now. I'd be lying if I said that that summer/semester living at the Lealand house didn't completely transform and uncover my being. Never before had I seen darker times of the Critter, and never before had I had no place to go with them. I longed for home, but a house wasn't in the picture. Trying times will show you how weak you are, and how unstable a mind can become. Thank god for pretending. I was a mess there, but I'm here, and I will never be the same, and in a sick way, I am so thankful I had to go through those time. I know I am leaving out a huge amount of details, and myabe one day I'll tell them all, but for now, just believe my words, because who lies in a blog that only 4 people read that is written while in between violent/delight surges of shoop.

Badda bing, badda boom, I really messed up. I found myself in jail, 400 miles from home, with an angry baptist on one end of the line, and a halfway there broken hearted/angry/confused/let down child on the other line. My home for the day was next to a man with a white beard (attempted manslaughter), and black guy (probably wrong skin tone at the wrong time). At that point, I had been denied my home. I've never felt that way. Absolutely nowhere to go, no way of contact, parents probably confused as me, not knowing what my next move/sight of outside would be. Luckily, I do have worriful and great friends, and news spread around thorugh the circle that nigga critta got whopped by the fuzz, and finally I had been set out.

Everything happens for reasons that reasoning can't explain. This has been very scatter brained I know, which I don't apologize for, seeing that I literally type as I think on these things. Everything I have written tonight has been jumble about one point, i hope. Don't give the things you hold closest the opportunity to drift away. Home has always been a word that I had, now its a feeling I strive to get back. My family is now thrown across the nation, much like the semen of Axl Rose (so much tailfeather), and for once I see the idea, the idea I never thought could leave, betraying me. Home. It's so simple, but is it a place, or multiple places? Is it people? Things? Or just an idea? I, being overly analytical on many simple subjects, am trying to get this one right. If nothing else in this world, other than my faith, home is one thing I want to always have, and cherish. For now, I guess home is where my family is, no matter where. Home is a shell, a word, an empty promise, if you will. Until you fill it with the ones you love, family or friends, and honestly cherish it. I'm longing to have the feeling of home again. I have no doubt I will find it, but the journey always surprises me with it's detours. That's all for me friends. Think about this. And remember, it's totally ok if you stand up when you wipe.


Love,
Critter

Moods

I never thought of life with having no friends to be with. I've been fortunate all of my life to have atleast a few close ones around. Until now. I knew by moving here I was forfeiting many things in my life, but this concept never really crossed my mind for some reason. I have always thought of myself as a individually happy person, but until now, I never knew how much of an effect friends had on the individual me. We all like to have our alone time once in a while. But what I think makes that so satisfying is having the assurance of being able to go back and be with your friends once you've had your self-fill. I don't have that anymore. And its starting to erode my peace of mind. Until now, I've kept a great outlook on things that have happened in past months, just looking past the past and trying to strive onto what may become of my life. I think we all do this to most things. But we also have people to help us along the way, in our stationary times of our life, where we feel stuck before moving on to the next step. I feel I've lost this feeling. This might be a little emo for yal, but hey, bear with me. Don't get me wrong, my sister and brother in law are great to me, and I've become best friends with a 15 month year old nephew. But its not the same. We all have a mutual love for each other, because we are family, but the piece of the puzzle that friends complete, seems to have been lost. With no one around to call an actual friends, my age, into the same things I am, I feel I'm becoming aged, alone, and too keen on the feelings of misfortune. I wish so much I could be where I am supposed to be. Maybe this is it, but my doubts are high. At this moment, my brother-in-laws family is here eating dinner with everyone in the kitchen. And I'm in my room listening to music, blogging, like a doucher. I just can't seem to get myself up and put on my mask of happiness and gratefulness right now to make my way in and pretend to be alright with my life at this moment. I want peace like I've had. But once again, it seems another war has been waged inside of me. I trust God, and pray to him, but doubts of me, just a mortal man, somehow seem more overpowering at times like these. Cherish friends. Think of what it could be without them. I know I took them for granted for way too long. I haven't lost faith. Yet. And I still am looking for something good to come out of this. But for now, overbearance of emotions having no home are taking me to be like I am. Love your friends. And enjoy your day.

Love,
Critter.

Doris Hite

Whew. It's been a few days. Since my last blawg, a few things have been up. This last weekend, I was sicker than grandma porn. I had a steady stream of goo making its way through my body, exiting both holes. Not my penis. I woke up at like 4 in the morning, and from there the routine of spewing and shooping occurred for about the next 6 hours. It was awesome. But, I slept for about every hour I wasn't protruding yuck out of my bod. I slept it off basically, and was pretty alright the next day. So that was a mess. Anyways. I was thinking, I wish I had the shame of a dog. Or maybe the no shame of a dog. I have never witnessed anything more awkward than taking my sis's dog Piper out to doo the doo, and having him just take a trip to brown town right in front of me, and then have the nerve to stare right back at me. Just imagine, his 3 brown eyes, staring deep, beyond, and directly into mine. No shame. Imagine the things I would/could do with this talent. Not shitting in public, but just being completely secure in whatever I feel like doing. Twould be great. This dog though, Piper, has more character than probably half the people I have ever met. This dude is hilarious. Twice now, he has literally made me LOL while taking him out to "get busy". There is a small cat that lives under the house. Annoying as a dry booger. It comes out everytime we go outside, as well. Well Piper is usually cool with this cat, but the other day I guess he was in a pissy mood. He saw the cat from across the yard, sprinted over to it, and got right in the pussy's whiskers. (sick). After an intense stare down, my man took a few steps back, and went ahead and dropped a puppy loaf off about 2 feet in front of the cats face. I thought it was hysterical. And then, the next day, the same foreplay occured, but this time, he just hiked up his leg and showed off his god given goods while taking a peepee right in the cat's face. Again, it cracked me up. What a puppy. So ya, all this happened this weekend. And now, I'm in Conway, AR , about 2 hours away from where I've been staying, staying with my brother-in-law's brother. The past 3 days, I've been working 8 hour days at a place that makes custom shoes for diabetic people. hahaha. Yes, it's true. I have stood on concrete floor for a complete 8 hours and cut out insoles for shoes of all sizes. People get their feet molded apparently, send them in, and we mold inserts to them and put them in shoes, and supposedly it helps circulation. I'm not in dire need of cash, but I came up to help anyways. I have honestly had a new outlook on life come to me recently, and it has honestly been great. Somehow, I have been looking at things in the "why not?" type of life, or just looking at things I do as a new adventure, as if a story of my life would be made into a book or a movie someday. It has honeslty changed my entire mood on everything. It's wierd, but I am honestly enjoying it. I'll be able to tell this story of working at this place someday to someone who might give a shit, and that makes it ok with me. I haven't had a problem working at all, or even keeping my spirit up because of this way I've been looking at things. I find that if I'm able, why not give it a shot while I can, cause one day I won't be able to go around and just kinda live where I want and really have no die hard responsibilites, like my life is like right now. It truly has been an experience. Yesterday, while in the back warehouse smoothing down and shaving off excess plaster from the foot molds, I encountered what the referred to as a "ninja turtle". Turns out, a lady named Doris Hite, bless her soul, has 3 toes on her right foot.(hence the "ninja turtle"). As frightening and comical this was, it honestly got me having an almost serious thought as I continued to get the molded 3-toed foot in the best shape I could. So many times people see others as what the have. Even personally, we usually base our status as a person on what we actually have. But seeing this foot, missing 2 toes, which I believe were the ones who would go to the market and the one who would get the bread, made me really think. Maybe we should evaluate not what we actually have, but what we are missing. You are probably thinking, hey, dumbass, it's the same thing. But I think different. You see a rich man, with all of his possessions, and you see all that he has, and you don't. In the material sense, he has you beat, and is probably satisfied with what money can buy. But you might not know what he is missing, maybe a loving family, peace of mind, or even a good friend. I began to think of all the things I can actually say I have in my life, rather that what I am missing. I truly am blessed. I've had nothing but great friends, loving family, and overall good fortune in my life. It's time for me to stop seeing what I have and wanting more, but realizing what I don't have, such as maybe an abusive father, no friends, or even herpes. I'll leave you with this thought for a little brain candy, unless your like Doris Hite, with whom I'll leave you with this sugar-less gum. Sleep well friends.

-Critter

Kill 'Em Dead el Tigre

6:45 a.m. A sight I haven't seen in a very long time. It's almost like we have mutual hate for each other. I get up, away from my dreams of hawt babes, and it has another turd awake in its time of trying to start the day time cycle. I took the CRC thing today, and by god, I'ma genius. Not really though. I did ok. I've been looking back at a lot of local bands around Nashville recently. Everytime I do, it just makes me wonder more and more, what if? I'm so tired of letting my vagina getting in the way of pursuing my dreams. I was right in the middle of it all, even lived with a house full of great musicians, but somehow always found an alibi or a 40 not to go ahead and try to be something. anything. I know this is stereotypical whiny dream chasing bullshit, but it's true. Who knows what could of came of it if I had tried my hand in the music world, but that is something now that I will never know the answer to. To even try and fail would beat the hell out of the uncertainty always swimming around in my turbulent thoughts. I wanna start trying, balls out, cleanly shaved, without shame. I have to. I always thought something would come along or fall into place where I could somehow be employed in the music industry. That's what I've been doing all my life. Thinking, not acting. It's an honest fear of mine that I have let the opportunities slip from my grasp for good. Now, I hope to get employed working full time, not going to school, and living with my brother-in-law and sister. Not exactly what I had in mind heading off to a prestigious college a year and a half ago. So here it is, whatever happens now has to be my choice, my actions will ensue my opportunities, and I finally see that I can't sit back and wait anymore. Yesterday I was 18, pumped about moving to college, pumped about breezing through courses and becoming successful without and sort of effort. Today, I'm 20, dropped out, and pursuing a job that has absolutely no interest to me or what I have dreamed of. Tomorrow, who knows what/where/who I'll be. One thing is for sure, my actions, not my passiveness, will be the one who gets me there. Stay stinky.

-Critter

Death of The Party

Nothing like a sitcom like How I Met Your Mother to open your eyes to jokes that aren't funny. Being an unfunny joke teller myself, I'm offended. Anyways, its a little past 10 at night, and lo and behold, I am sitting in my room, doing myself the disgusting favor of having in a lip full of Red Seal Mint. It's amazing how it takes small pieces of a plant, including other sick shit, to make people relax and feel at ease. No reading or walking for me, give me the thing in a can that looks like diarrea-ized rat shit to put in my mouth, give me a high five, then move along. I've actually gotten out of the house/room today. wierd. Somehow, I got talked/peer pressured/jewed into setting up and running the sound tonight at my brother in law's church, where he is the youth pastor. I'd like to take this time to thank Belmont for giving me the title, not the knowledge, or someone who knows how to do this kinda stuff. When the dude heard I went there, he assumed I knew how to do this jazz. Being the proud american male I am most days, I went ahead and didn't spread the word that in fact, I don't know how to do shit. In the end though, I can say it turned out okay, and I think my status as a guy who can do things might still be upheld. Thank god. Thank america. I've been catching up on news at cnn quite frequently these past few days, and what the fart is up with the earthquakes? Somehow, we can watch as something as horrid as Nick Cage's career survive, and also be the ones helping it along the way, but we can't figure out a way to detect these earthquakes? These things are inevitable it seems, much like a twist in my ninja M. Night Shyamalan's "kewl" movies. These things really sph my ilis. (nice one critter). In conclusion, I do have a reason to sleep hours that normal people shouldn't tonight. I have to take CRC test at 8 in the morning. I believe it stands for Career Readiness Test, and it has been explained to me as a test to make sure you're not a r-tard, which is quite clever to be mandatory in Arkansas. Most likely I won't do well. Go figure. But I do wish I could tell some clever story or witty joke, but honestly, this is all I got. It's been a day, and I guess that is all I can ask for. Sleep well. 3400 for lyfe. yes.

-Critter

The First on Not Too Many

Welllp, it's official. I'ma turd. Turd is a word that has left the english language it seems, much like queef, jizzism, and rad. But anyways, I'm a turd nontheless. Today has been like most the days my past week. Wake up with a half chub, pee, eat cereal, maybe a few rounds of video games, hop on the interweb for some rad tymes, end up back in bed within an hour or starting the insanely redundant events of living my life as a turd. I'm jobless, dropped out of college, and overweight. Most of you would look at these things and say hey, get a job michael moore. But i prefer to be a little more generous, and without the mean name calling, just refer to my self as turd-ish. I am grateful though. For one, I've had some unfortunate events occur the past couple months, probably because of my turd-iness, and I have landed on my feet with the help of my loving family and friends. Needless to say, I'm a pretty lucky turd. Right now I'm living in Arkansas with my sister, her husband, and my nephew. This town sucks more than MTV. I've gone from living in a house with 5 other dudes, most great friends, living in a huge, dirty, dirty house, in the city of Nashville, to finding myself in Camden, AR home of a Wal-Mart. It might seem harsh to some, but I swear to God, I've never seen myself as a very smart or intelligent guy on a daily basis, but damnit, these people make me feel like a genius. I'm serious. In the crowd at the local Wal-Mart, I feel like some scholar just walking around in there, pronouncing my words right, being showered, and not visiting a relative who is currently working. I've never had this feeling before. I'm smart as shit here. Anyways, I'll probably be getting a job here soon, so maybe my turd status could be reduced down to michael bay status, and hopefully start making money to go back to school. All is well with me for the moment. I can't really justify any complaints I have right now. Skadoosh. I'll leave you with this.

-Critter