Anthology

So, HA, being the silly little boy that I am, I totally just submitted some of my poetry (sorry, Oli) to my school’s anthology that is currently collecting poetry, short stories, artwork, et cetera from the students. I’m not sure why I did it (perhaps because PUBLISHED AUTHOR would look lovely on my applications, even if it is just some college anthology). I don’t know if that’s actually the real reason why I did it, or if maybe a little bit of the suppressed poet inside of me manages to get his way, but yeah. That’s what I just did. And I’m slightly terrified.

I picked some of my poems that were relatively content appropriate and that I actually liked (all of the poems that I sent can be found in this blog, by the way). I managed picking “Spectral Essence”, “New York’s #1 Bestseller” and “Ceci n’est pas une pipe” as my OMG HEY LOOK THESE ARE APPROPRIATE poems. However, I also decided to send “Ernüchterung” at the last minute despite the fact that I know that it is more than likely wholly inappropriate for a school collection. I don’t know why I sent it now. Probably because it is the poems that are inappropriate that really mean the most to me and say something about who I really am. There’s a reason why almost all of my poems have some mention of drugs and/or sex. I’ll let you know when I figure out what that reason is.

So, who knows if anyone making the anthology will actually like my work or think that it’s all a complete piece of crap… we’ll see. I don’t know why I’m nervous about finding out.

I guess, deep down, my poems mean more to me, way more, than I’d like to let on. They’re mine, I created them. It’s like allowing your emotions to be cemented. The only difference between cementing them in an actual book as opposed to this blog is that, well, I’m not the one really choosing to put everything in the book. I can put whatever the fuck I want in here.

I’m allowing myself to be subject to someone else’s judgment. Yeah. That’s scary.

I know nothing about you.

Dear President Obama,

Is it strange that, yes, you do give me hope?

I feel as if one should never put hope into a politician. Isn’t that what everyone always says? A politician is a politician and they’re always the same in the same what that every doctor or lawyer or dentist or tattooist is the same, right? Ha, right.

Perhaps it is the quixotic child deep inside of me that makes me believe that you can make this world a better place just by your efforts. I know that you’re thousands of miles away in the rather important place called Washington D.C. (unless you’ve managed to escape the boundaries of my knowledge and have gone someone else), and I know that you’ll never know of the quiet hopes of some nineteen year old kid in California that would simply give anything to be allowed to marry his boyfriend and have it be called simply that. Domestic partnership my ass. Or that I would give anything to be part of an economy where my boyfriend can find a job that would fend off the creeping depression that haunts him in the back of his head every day that he doesn’t receive a phone call.

I know that you will probably never know of my existence, never know my name, but know that you are carrying my dreams for the country upon your shoulders. I know that you have 300 million plus other dreams to worry about, to carry on your back for the next four or eight years (if things go pleasantly enough), but hopefully mine will not get lost among the plethora of desires.

I do not know you as a person, only as a public persona, but know that I like you. I know nothing about you other than the fact that, like me, you’re a mutt (and I mean that in the best possible way) and that you have a gift for public speaking unlike previous presidents that I’ve had the misfortune to witness. Nothing about your likes or dislikes, your moods or what makes you laugh is visible to me, but that’s all right. I do not need to know. I do not know you, but I like you because I think (hope) that you have the potential to make almost everything right again. I say “almost” only because it’s highly improbable that anyone can make everything right.

Please, help us. I can only wish that your time in office is a safe one and that people in our country have come to a point where you can smile and everyone, everyone will be smiling back.

Au revoir, Mr President. Have a lovely four years.

Sincerely,

Ty.

We had fun in spades. Ha!

I went out with Dawson, Oli and Meredith yesterday to go see My Bloody Valentine 3D just because, well, the girls wanted to. Dawson wasn’t too excited about it in the beginning due to his dislike of the horror genre, but he was a good sport and decided to go. The movie itself was quite hilarious if I do say so myself. There was just something about the movie that was far more knee-jerking hilarity than scream-my-ass-off fear. The girls were squealing and gasping and doing whatever it is that girls do when they’re scared at the movies, but Dawson and I were fine. Yeah. Good laughing time if I do say so myself.

On Friday Dawson and I went into the city and (of course) took a trip to Good Vibes to see if we could find anything remotely interesting. We have both been talking about purchasing either a vibrator or packies or both, but while we were wandering around the store nothing really called out to us. It was almost disappointing how we could not really find anything that made our little boyish hearts squeal out with joy upon sight, but sometimes it just happens that way. We were lucky enough to not leave empty handed, for we did end up purchasing Boinked, which is a game that is pretty much a cross between Clue and Truth and Dare, only without the truth part. Dawson and I have played it twice so far and it’s ended up pretty amusing. Dawson got to spank me, I received a lap dance and at some point I was allowed to tie Dawson up.

See, sounds fun already, doesn’t it?

It’s fantastic, because Dawson and I currently have the house to ourselves (if you decide to not count my dog and my one fish [yes, just one, sadly the other passed away to fishy heaven]). My parents are on vacation in some Asian country and now the boyfriend and I have the chance to play house. Despite the fact that we’ve been burning through our money perhaps a tiny faster than we should have, it’s been a nice time. Dawson’s currently raking the front yard and I just finished cleaning the house. So, you know, we’re good little pretend adults.

I wonder what’s it is going to be like when Dawson and I actually do have our own place. It’s certainly not going to be as nice as my parents’ house, but maybe it’ll be better in the sense that it will be ours and ours alone. It probably won’t have fancy furniture or expensive electronics or fifty billion rooms… but it will be ours. It’s exciting to think about and seems almost impossible to actualize. With time, my friends, with time.

You know something else that’s interesting?

I haven’t felt sad in a really long time. It’s refreshing.

Order something with a straw. Please.

I don’t like it when a woman drinks from a paper coffee cup that one would get a Starbucks or whatever and her lipstick/gloss leaves an imprint on the top of the cup.  I’m not sure why I don’t like it, but seeing it definitely makes me cringe.

If they could make lipstick/gloss-proof coffee cup tops, my world would be almost perfect.

First post of 2009! Go me!

So… the body shop where my car was taken to get repaired said that my car would be ready today. They also said that it would be ready yesterday and last Monday. See the pattern? My dad and I get to the Hertz rental car… place in order to return the silly Versa that I have been driving for the past month, and just as we pull into the parking lot my dad gets a phone call from the body shop stating that when they were looking over my car they saw that some bolt was lost on the hubcap or whatever the fuck it was and that they wouldn’t be able to have the car finished until Monday.

So. It’s annoying, the fact that they keep pushing back the date on which I can receive my car. It is also annoying considering that my mom and dad go away on vacation on Wednesday, so I kind of need to have my car back before then. You know. Yeah.

Anyway, RANDOM SUBJECT CHANGE.

Don’t you love it when I do that?

Dawson and I were really excited over a potential job that he could have gotten with PetSmart a few days ago as a pet bather. Unfortunately, the beezies wanted him to go to grooming school to become, well, a groomer since they were in desperate need of those and Dawson was like, “Thanks, but no thanks.” It was depressing considering that that had been the first call that he had received in months, and he’s been searching desperately for a job in his area. I was so sad. I really want him to get a job, because I know that it would make him happy to be working again. I don’t like seeing him frustrated and sad.

Dawson’s been getting me to go to the gym a few times a week. I complain when I get the chance, but for the most part I don’t mind it. I think sometimes I just get bored since Dawson spends about two and a half hours at the gym doing whatever workout he’s doing, and that’s just way too much for me. I mean, it’s good to be working out so much so that I can lose the fifty million pounds that I need to lose, but yeah. I think I’m just lazy. At least I have Dawson to help keep me going.

I wanted to make a New Year’s Resolution to write in my blog at least once a day, even if it was only a sentence or a word, but I worry that I won’t be able to keep it. I suppose I could just start now and see what happens. Is it really so difficult to write in your blog once a day for a whole month? six months? year? Maybe. Maybe not. But I might at least say that I’m going to give it a try, even if I don’t believe that I’ll accomplish my goal.

That was a whole lot of nothing.

By the way, Drake and Josh is awesome. So is iCarly. I totally don’t care that I’m probably too old to watch tween shows. They’re amazing.