Something That Happened.

The months roll by. Months turn into years; you find out about things you've been missing. For example, a couple of new releases (which are, of course, not so new anymore) by one of your favorite recording artists (The Orb). You haven't spoken with friends in ages -- it's nearly hostile the way you've stopped speaking with anybody. (On the phone, at least, since you still kinda/sorta communicate using the 'Net.) You're angry all the time, and you feel like you shouldn't be: fer Chrissakes you've been seeing a shrink for three or four years now! Shouldn't you be sane already? Or a bit less mad, at least.

You keep telling yourself that you'll return to something that happened, in one way or another. You know it's okay that you disappear; you don't need anyone to tell you that. But still, Hurley wants to know: Where've you been, dude?

Been studying. Yeah, studying. Programming, mainly, but also some web design stuff -- you know, graphics applications like Photoshop and Fireworks and Dreamweaver. Currently you're learning Visual Basic in class and Ruby on your own, and today you enrolled in one class to learn PHP and another to learn Excel (because the C Programming course was full). This is the current direction of your careerseeking, and you hope it helps you find that fun vocation that you desire (rather than that horrible customer service-by-phone stuff you absolutely loathe).

As you edit this post you decide to link to someone, because you know that people have difficulty reading stories that don't have links, so you insert this paragraph right smake in the middle of your article and mention your friend Matthew, because he's one of the first people you can think of to link to and because you actually think he's a decent and hardworking person with artistic inclinations. (This is all true but you're still going to cross out this paragraph, excepting your friend's name, because you want folks to ignore everything but the damn link.)

Aside from a reincarnated bad neighbor situation and a bad case of anger, you're actually doing okay. Maybe you've gotta just live with being a somewhat angry dude, like that comic book guy in New York who they made that movie about. Harvey something or whatever. Picar, that's it. Pikar? Whatever. Dude's always angry about something or other. Hate to be angry like that all the time, but maybe you are. You know, inside. At least you don't carry a sourpuss face around. Or do you? Nah, you don't (you don't think).

You finally visited your mom again -- it's been what, a year? Okay, maybe not that long, but it sure felt like it. You've adopted a new strategy that you hope will work for you: Try not to do everything when you visit her. That's a hopeless situation, and it'll just frustrate you and inevitably make you want to avoid going to see her altogether. No, you're going to do things differently this time. You're going to just visit. If you don't have the money to take her out, that's okay, you can eat in. Bring a sandwich or two, enough money for a can of Coke if you can, a cup of coffee. Truly, you just need the bus money, you know? That's it. You don't have to always bring treats; you're her best gift, and she yours.

What else? Too much. Too much to catch up on, and there's no way you can possibly relate all that's happened, all that hasn't. So don't even try. Just this little bit of information is good for now. You know yourself; you know you have love in you, you know who you love (you think). You may not be showing it as often or in the way your friends and family would prefer, but with a little luck they'll understand that this is one way you can handle expressing that love: With this tiny article of information.

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