man,

so much shit has happened. so much shit. i'm sorry i'm not better about updating this

10:24 ... RE: breakup

i haven't picked a title for this yet. i usually pick a title and then write. i don't know what to call this, it's just ramblings that i need to write so i can have stuff out of my head


it's 9:49 AM. i've been up for about an hour, giving me something like 4 hours of sleep last night. i'm not tired. my body must have just ran out of water or something, my eyes are dry heaving like the morning after a long, long night.

i think part of my problem right now is how conflicted i am in my own self. i understand everything that you told me yesterday. i know exactly what happened, i know why it had to happen, and i'm not mad at you. all i ever asked was that you shared your feelings with me and that's exactly what you did. i'm many things but i'm not a hypocrite. the conflict comes from my most basic instinct which just doesn't want to believe it. this is something that i KNOW but my brain is trying to get me to ignore it, as though it didn't happen. but it did happen, and i can't ignore it. my brain fucks with me sometimes... maybe i'll just get a new one.

i'm a better person as a direct result of these last few months, as a direct result of you. i'm nicer, except to Kaitie, but fuck her right? i'm much more personable to the people i encounter. i've had a bounce in my step that's been missing since the day i put my dog to sleep freshman year. there was a purposeful feeling inside me, and i felt some quality about myself that i hadn't felt before just because i was so amazed that a girl like you could feel about me that way. that's a real big confidence booster, when an incredible girl decides she likes you like that. the other day i looked in the mirror and didn't pick out bad things. i liked the way i look. who fucking knows when the last time that happened was. i still think i look ok, but i'm not as sure as i was

its a fucked up thing that the best time we have spent together recently was that hour or so after we broke up. that is fucked up. what you did for the last two weeks was fucked up, making me worry so much about what i did. i'm not mad, i'm not bitter, but that can't be debated. i haven't had my mind off of it for a second, and it just about wrecked me. i'm sad that you don't love me the same way i love you, but that happens. nobody can be faulted for that.

didn't go to school today. taylor asked why, cause for whatever reason she didn't go either. i told her i didn't feel like it. she'll read this at some point or another, i'm sure. melina asked too, actually. she knows a little more though, i'm always a little uncomfortable talking about this stuff to my sisters for some reason. i think because i'm supposed to be the big brother, i'm not supposed to let stuff like this fuck me up. but i do, i did, i will continue to. big brothers can feel too, except Orwellian ones.

i'm going to miss a lot of things. i'm going to miss driving around in my car with you, holding your hand as we go. i'm going to miss leaning over my center console to give you a kiss. i'm going to miss walking you out to ROP every day. i'm going to miss Coach Vick saying "watch out, here's the campus couple!" i'm going to miss the office ladies asking how you are. i'm going to miss saying "excellent" when people ask how we are doing. i'm going to miss seeing you hot and breathless. i'm going to miss parking across the street from 1927 Purple Sage almost every day. i'm going to miss park days, i've never had a park night but i'm going to miss the chance. i'm going to miss trying to come up with wild ways to sneak out because my mom is a fucking hawk. i'm going to miss dialing those 9s, 6s, 4s and that 0 every night before i go to sleep and every morning when i wake up. i'm going to wish you happy birthday on September 13th, but Jemaine would probably be dissapointed in me. i'm going to miss hearing your special ring tone. i'm going to miss you touching my arm or my back when you walk by in photo. i'm going to miss our long goodbyes at night. i'm going to miss sitting on that bench and watching what goes on. i'm going to miss lying on the grass with you and jade and kelsey and stephy. i'm going to miss holding your hand, i'm going to miss sneaking up on you, i'm going to miss surprising you with ice cream, i'm going to miss making you dinner, i'm going to miss kisses through the phone, i'm going to miss MMS messages that would make my day, i'm going to miss Marisa the one I want.

i'm going to miss feeling like i'm fucking unstoppable, like nothing can hurt me. i'm going to miss you.

i was okay giving you our last goodbye kiss. i was okay giving you our last wave goodbye as i pulled away from the 2 to 5. i was okay until i got to Atherton. i'm surprised i got home from there...

anyways. i wish it wasn't this way, but it is. this isn't to make you feel bad, it's just to keep me from imploding. if anything just be ok knowing that i understand. so, for one last time,

thank you for being. thank you for your existence.



"Don't think twice, it's alright." - Bob Dylan

i just called

to say i love you



been on a stevie wonder kick this week

november 20th

was the last time i updated my pen blog. further proof i can't keep anything going.




also, i wish i had a person out there somewhere that was as happy to see me every day as my dog is.

i love you, kahuna

my friend asked me

if i made up the weird, sometimes seemingly nonsensical shit i type in bulletins or what.

i told him that sometimes i do, but a lot of the times it is just lyrics from whatever song i was listening to.

i typed this whole thing with ymy eyes closed.

i often think

that life would be easier if i had some higher power to look up to.

i have two sisters

and two brothers

i am connor

and i have an inferiority complex the size of texas when it comes to X

sick and tired

sick and fucking tired of everything being about you. you're who i think of, who i write about, who i want to talk to hang out with take to lunch catch a flick with just be with play a game with walk the streets with see the sights with have a drink with sit in the hottub with take pictures of take pictures with cook with bake with sit with stand with, who i want to hold and comfort and let know it will be ok and you will be loved and do everything with.

fucking sick. fucking tired.

i wished i lived out in the country

so i could shoot my guns whenever i want. handguns, pistols, rifles, even my BB guns i can't shoot all the time here. this sucks.

haven't blogged

for 19 days


19 days


19 days

sometimes

i honest to god hate myself. never for very long, just for little spurts-- usually minutes at a time of utter self-loathing.

It has been reported...

It has been reported that some victims of torture, during the act, would retreat into a fantasy world from which they could not WAKE UP. In this catatonic state, the victim lived in a world just like their normal one, except they weren’t being tortured. The only way that they realized they needed to WAKE UP was a note they found in their fantasy world. It would tell them about their condition, and tell them to WAKE UP.
Even then, it would often take months until they were ready to discard their fantasy world and PLEASE WAKE UP


xposted from John Yadollahi on mySpace

the coast

i feel as though i haven't been at home in forever. i know that i have-- i've been home pretty recently, as a matter of fact-- but i can't shake this feeling. sometimes i just can't stand to be away from home. it kills me. i don't care what we do here because i'd rather be home. it isn't that i don't like the places we go, i guess i should, but i can't help feeling like i'm missing something by not being home. like i'm missing something in me.


could've done with a fucking day trip.

i hadn't had La Costa

for like a week and a half until today. that's a long time, i usually go at least once a day... at least. sometimes i go twice. if i'm working on the cars with my dad and making AutoZone/Kragen trips it could even hit 5 trips, a taco each visit.

anways, i got my usual. un taco pastor y un taco pollo con todos. i got it to go though... i just didn't feel like eating there for whatever reason. he put the extra lime he already knew i'd ask for in my styrofoam container and i went on my way.

i'm not in the mood for anything. at all.



i redid my oral interpretation of Here Am I in speech today. i did better, but i got the same score. this might confuse you, but never-fucking-fear, i'm here to save the day!

you see, the first time i gave it i had 5 points of extra credit added onto my score because i gave the interpretation the day before to have it critiqued. it bumped my original 84 to an 89. today i regave my speech and picked up 5 points in various locales of the rubric, but i didn't have the extra credit so i ended up with an 89 again. fuckin' hell, eh?

i mean it's alright i guess because i like reading the piece and it isn't one of those things to just bust out with. gave me an excuse, i guess. i really need these A's, though, 'cause i gave chem the bird. chem can suck it.

is it narcissistic

to sometimes think about how my life would work in a movie?

it's times like this as i eat green bell peppers and drink orange sport drinks after a fucking stutter-fest out of my anxious fucking self that i can picture in my head on the silver screen. sounds like some shitty indie flick that i'd watch.

i just read someone's story

about their dog Rusty. and putting him to sleep.

and it made me think of putting my old dog to sleep last year. hardest thing i have ever done... and i've talked about it before but i don't recall moving my hands up the other times to find a wet face.

some days i want it all

i want the fancy cars, the custom suits, the italian leather shoes, the swiss watch. those are the days i drift off and dream.






most days i just want something cold to drink and to take a good, solid piss outdoors.

here am i

we all wanted that highschool sweetheart.
we wanted to be young in the 50's with meatloafs and sockhops and lawns...
lawns so perfect they looked like clark gable was kissing them.
we wanted to be thirteen and alive and meet a girl that was thirteen and alive,
and walk with her past the grandstands.
to sit and hold hands with, to sit and kiss with, to sit and sit with like it was something you would miss
but that... never was.

we once went to bed like between the bedsheets was a valley with dinosaurs still breathing.
and how we would catch these triceratops, and bronosaurases,
but even they were opened up with the smoke that rose from the homes on the corners
of the streets we once climbed through.
the streets and the footballs of which we once threw,
desks upon we once drew, windows set open through which we once flew
before the outside world of parking spaces and dead friends came flooding on in
and we forgot what we wanted, and we became what we've become.

waitresses and bartenders. city employees and temp positions,
we are junkies, and one kiss poems, and we cry the stars.
as we write our scars onto dumpsters and electric boxes
because the only thing that we can hear is our hearts,
and the only ones listening are the streets,
through the blood that bleeds, through the letters we leave
and we dream to rise ourselves up out of these burning buildings
but instead we get buried somewhere beneath.

'cause i know my life... it's like some highschool kid's notebook.
a highschool kid that shuffles back and forth between school and home,
stacking the letters and the pictures too close for anyone outside of his own imagination to read
because its through the ink that his heart beats, that his heart breathes, and we all just wanted to write these notes.
check if you like me, check if you don't, check if you'll date me, check if you won't

because we all wanted the love songs to be true,
and we did love dinosaurs once, and we wanted the stars
to hold our hands, to lick the teeth,
to fuck us, but they ending up fucking us, so...

let your smile twist, like my heart
dancing precariously on the edge of my fingertips, staining them like that same highschool kid
licking his thoughts using his sharpie tip writing
"i was here. i was here, motherfucker. and ain't none of y'all can write that in the spot that i just wrote it in."
i'm here motherfucker, and we all hear, motherfucker, and we're all motherfuckers, motherfucker
because every breath i give brings me a second closer to the day that my mother my die,
because every breath i take takes me a second further from the day she caught my father's eye
because every word i carry is another stone to put into place in the foundation i'm building
because these days it's a race for something i never saw,

what all of us wanted and none of us got,
what we all had and have and we all forgot,
that we all wanted to be something, that we all became something,
and it might not be the shit you once thought it'd be when we were kids
but something is still something, and like some cats say somethings better than nothin.
feet are smarter than an engine and dreams are stronger than thighs,
and questions are the only answers we need to have to know that we're alive in a time when i have a mind of a child
asking

"why is two plus three always equal to five
where do people go to when they die
what made the beauty of the moon and the beauty of the sea?
did that beauty make you? did that beauty make me?
will that make me something? will i be something? am i something?
and the answer comes;

already am, always was, and i still have time to be.

"I like where we're at right now.

Friends and no pressures"