False Alarm
Karl's Blog. Stardate Blah Blah Blah,
Woke up this morning to the gong show of my father rushing his bride to the hospital. It appeared that blood or some sort of liquid excreted from her and everyone believed that she was going to give birth.
I am merely an observer. My emotional detachment from most things has kept me from really caring about this event. So I just tried to stay out of everyone's way. For my troubles, I was yelled at to assemble the new stroller/carriage/car-seat hybrid they received as a gift. My father wanted me to wait for him to return so we would assemble both that device and the crib.
Being that I had to leave for soccer myself within a matter of minutes, and my enduring dread at collaborating with my father, I decided to just assemble the chair thing myself. He would have just yelled at me a lot and swear as he tried to decipher the bloody instructions. Plus, I tend to just sit back and let people continue to fuck up. I've been programmed to accept that any suggestion I make would not deter people from embarking upon what they believe to be correct. I could argue, but, that never helps.
It was pretty easy to assemble. I've always been able to eventually figure out how to assemble stuff. Plus I liked playing around with stuff to see if my inklings would work. Like the time I attached an old tape deck to the computer to increase the volume output, allow myself to make mix tapes with mp3s, and use my earphones. Must explain why I always watched those science programs as a kid. My step-sister helped out. She's okay. Can be a bit dramatic sometimes. But that can be expected I guess.
I left the crib assignment for after my soccer game. I finally get ready for soccer and leave. I unfortunately played like crap. Didn't help that I kept yelling at my friend and then teammate Jason. As bad a soccer player he believes he is, he has some attributes that he just refuses to utilize a lot. He should play more of a defensive mid game. He has a knack for intercepting passes and has a decent loft pass. Sure he should look where he passes, but, the pass is decent. He is definitely not a good defenseman. His ball handling is not that great and he tends to turnover when pressured. Plus, he kept playing zone defense. A strategy where he would stand where there was no one nearby, let alone any threat of attack. So when I yell at him to play up, he should play up because he plays better up in midfield killing potential drives. Again, he has a knack for it. I'll explain this to him, and he'll just stare blankly at me. He's not dumb, it just seems that way at times. How he won the history award at my high school boggles me every so often.
After the game, we make fun of our buddy "Banyon". It still doesn't get old. We also got into a discussion about relationships and its pitfalls. I found this to be pretty amusing since I can't relate in the slightest. The subject on its own was hilarious with everyone's experiences. I'm sure it will become more humorous if I ever find myself in that predicament. Although, I highly doubt I'd get "accidentally" clocked and subsequently brought to my knees.
Next came all you can eat sushi. It had been a while since we did sushi, so it was well welcomed. More "Banyon" bashing ensued. I swear that never gets old. In addition, we discussed the notion going out more to do more stuff as a group. A notion that seemed to be well received. Bringing out people we've been meaning to hang out with. Since we're all getting older, we might as well.
I finally return home. Father's home. His wife is home. Hell, even brother was there. No new addition to the family though. She's apparently a long way off. The waiting continues.
In retrospect, it would have been really odd for me to have the birthday of my infant brother so close to my mother's. How to cope with the meshing of supposed feelings of celebration and mourning? Sure I'd put on my stoic front as usual, but, I'd soon relegate myself to self-imposed isolation.
I find my hangups to be rather boring and tiresome. Ultimately they're uninteresting really. Sure this blog thing helps as an outlet, but, I really keep to myself. I'll give hints of my troubles, yet, I won't dwell on them with people present. Probably why I refused therapy. I hate shrinks. I hate talking. Not that anyone listens. Some do. Those people are a valuable resource.
Me watching life passing me by as I lurk in the sidelines.
Later Days.
End Transmission.
Woke up this morning to the gong show of my father rushing his bride to the hospital. It appeared that blood or some sort of liquid excreted from her and everyone believed that she was going to give birth.
I am merely an observer. My emotional detachment from most things has kept me from really caring about this event. So I just tried to stay out of everyone's way. For my troubles, I was yelled at to assemble the new stroller/carriage/car-seat hybrid they received as a gift. My father wanted me to wait for him to return so we would assemble both that device and the crib.
Being that I had to leave for soccer myself within a matter of minutes, and my enduring dread at collaborating with my father, I decided to just assemble the chair thing myself. He would have just yelled at me a lot and swear as he tried to decipher the bloody instructions. Plus, I tend to just sit back and let people continue to fuck up. I've been programmed to accept that any suggestion I make would not deter people from embarking upon what they believe to be correct. I could argue, but, that never helps.
It was pretty easy to assemble. I've always been able to eventually figure out how to assemble stuff. Plus I liked playing around with stuff to see if my inklings would work. Like the time I attached an old tape deck to the computer to increase the volume output, allow myself to make mix tapes with mp3s, and use my earphones. Must explain why I always watched those science programs as a kid. My step-sister helped out. She's okay. Can be a bit dramatic sometimes. But that can be expected I guess.
I left the crib assignment for after my soccer game. I finally get ready for soccer and leave. I unfortunately played like crap. Didn't help that I kept yelling at my friend and then teammate Jason. As bad a soccer player he believes he is, he has some attributes that he just refuses to utilize a lot. He should play more of a defensive mid game. He has a knack for intercepting passes and has a decent loft pass. Sure he should look where he passes, but, the pass is decent. He is definitely not a good defenseman. His ball handling is not that great and he tends to turnover when pressured. Plus, he kept playing zone defense. A strategy where he would stand where there was no one nearby, let alone any threat of attack. So when I yell at him to play up, he should play up because he plays better up in midfield killing potential drives. Again, he has a knack for it. I'll explain this to him, and he'll just stare blankly at me. He's not dumb, it just seems that way at times. How he won the history award at my high school boggles me every so often.
After the game, we make fun of our buddy "Banyon". It still doesn't get old. We also got into a discussion about relationships and its pitfalls. I found this to be pretty amusing since I can't relate in the slightest. The subject on its own was hilarious with everyone's experiences. I'm sure it will become more humorous if I ever find myself in that predicament. Although, I highly doubt I'd get "accidentally" clocked and subsequently brought to my knees.
Next came all you can eat sushi. It had been a while since we did sushi, so it was well welcomed. More "Banyon" bashing ensued. I swear that never gets old. In addition, we discussed the notion going out more to do more stuff as a group. A notion that seemed to be well received. Bringing out people we've been meaning to hang out with. Since we're all getting older, we might as well.
I finally return home. Father's home. His wife is home. Hell, even brother was there. No new addition to the family though. She's apparently a long way off. The waiting continues.
In retrospect, it would have been really odd for me to have the birthday of my infant brother so close to my mother's. How to cope with the meshing of supposed feelings of celebration and mourning? Sure I'd put on my stoic front as usual, but, I'd soon relegate myself to self-imposed isolation.
I find my hangups to be rather boring and tiresome. Ultimately they're uninteresting really. Sure this blog thing helps as an outlet, but, I really keep to myself. I'll give hints of my troubles, yet, I won't dwell on them with people present. Probably why I refused therapy. I hate shrinks. I hate talking. Not that anyone listens. Some do. Those people are a valuable resource.
Me watching life passing me by as I lurk in the sidelines.
Later Days.
End Transmission.
posted by Shockah Karl at 1:16 a.m.
1 Comments:
the tape deck thing? hot.
also, Karl, should you wish to escape it all and go for beers and calamari at Top's (or something equally East-Van-cliche), give me a call. It sucks when home is the last place you want to be.
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