Recovering from having a gun pointed in your face

It's really much harder than you would think. I am still in shock and don't know how much longer it will take before I snap out of it. I don't really want to make a big deal about it, but I suppose it will help to talk about it some. My initial post was successful in telling exactly how detached I am from the experience. Even as the events replay in my head over and over again, I can't help but think how much worse it could've gone for me. Slowly, I'm coming out of my haze, which hopefully means I can drop this issue entirely.

Still, it's been a great lesson to have as a reminder. I would've much preferred a different way of getting said reminder, but hey, we can't really be picky about where we learn life's most important lessons; Survival.

Much like the first time this happened, I'm quite frustrated with how our Society has deteriorated in that children are committing Felonies. Every time I have gone back into public, I am reminded of how this is all the fault of Parents everywhere.

In the Taco Shop near my house, I watched a kid, no more than 5 years old tell his Mom that he was thirsty. He even told her to get him a coke to which she obediently did so. No fucking 'please', no 'may I', but 'Mom, get me a coke'!!! What the fuck Bitch? Did you leave your goddam self respect back at the Dry Cleaners? It's people like you (that don't raise your pimp-hand to your fucking disrespectful spawn) that are to blame for what happened to me! Learn to put the fear of retribution in your children! I was so infuriated by this blatant lack of respect that I almost got myself punched in the face (when I asked her if she was going to let her kid talk to her like that). Her response..."He's just 5! And mine yo own bidness".

Mind my own business...no...I don't think i'll do that anymore. That's my business now. And every time I see it, I'm going to be that asshole parent that is telling you how to raise your little Satan's Spawn. Obviously, if I have to tell you how to raise your kids, then yeah, you don't deserve to reproduce. Simple as that.

What makes me most angry about this is that I am, again, facing the possibility that I can no longer be the nice person I once was because he only ends up being the victum. I probably wouldn't do much to discourage a fight because I'm anxious to pound someone's face. This is what concerns me. I'm normally a pacifist. Not the case lately. Hopefully this is just something I'll get over with and I sincerely would prefer this to be the case. I don't need to get into a fight much less get my ass thrown in jail for no good reason.

I've only been robbed twice now
Another fascinating fact about yours truly. I'm honestly shocked and amused by the situation. Shocked, because it fucking happened again. Amused because of how much I learned about myself tonight.

This post, tonight, will be about me unwinding after a somewhat traumatic experience. It was just so surreal that I'm still replaying the events in my head and I struggle to find a way to described how 'scatter-brained' I feel. Look, I just had a run-on sentence, that should tell you something. I'm glad to be home...what else can I say?

I'll try because I'm still way too amped up on adrenaline and anxiety to sleep.

This event has altered my proverbial course, much like the previous experience. I'm left with the feeling of being the victum most importantly. I don't like being in that position and I'm through with that role ever again. I also can't shake how much I value my own life. Thankful for being able to write this and be able to enjoy this joint moreso than ever before....(I will).
There's a part in the book Fight Club where Tyler has a gun to a store clerk's head while also inquiring about why he never made a life for himself. I identify with that guy except I didn't feel like my life was at risk (when it was happening). Of course it was at risk, but I wasn't going to do anything to jeopardize it!

Boy, you can't believe how much you like life once the realization comes to you of how close you came to seeing its end. I'm a fucking believer now. Life is fucking good.

Under the circumstances, I think this will have to be a 2-parter because I'm feeling the fatigue coming on (and I did smoke that joint upon it's mention in this post) right now.

To be continued....

Breakin' the rules...

Has never been so deliciously good. While I realize this probably isn't too serious of rule-breaking, it's still something that I have been explicitely told not to do by my Landlord. It's good enough for me to have that giddy feeling in my gut reliving the fact that I'm 'getting away with it'.

You may be wondering, "..what the hell is Toby's talking about?" but alas, I shall explain in my usual manner; frequently digressing for further embellishment and sometimes amusing story-telling.

There was a specific rule when I moved into my current living situation where I was shocked and quite disgusted to find out. Specifically, I could not bring 'drugs' on the premisis. By the look of the house from the outside, it would appear drugs would be used quite a bit in or around it. Not the case, however...much to my disappointment.

Recently, I have been feeling rebellious about living there because I feel it's very comparable to living with my parents. I also feel like I'm paying too much for what I'm getting. On the other hand, I don't have a written contract with them, so I'm equally fucked if he suddenly decides that he doesn't want me living there any more.

I doubt that there will be much backlash if it's ever discovered that I am breaking the rule. I suppose I should plan ahead if it ever does happen. Like make up some card that says I have a prescription. Yeah...that's a good plan.

I'm at the point where I don't care what happens. Sure, I'm certainly going to try to keep it quiet of my activities, but I am enjoying the fact that I can have a joint in peace and yes, I'm sober right now.

My eyes, they BURN!

Much happened this weekend, namely me moving the rest of my shit around the hole in which I reside. This was done in anticipation of my father coming to town.

As much as I hate the moving process, I hate the unpacking process even more. To make matters worse, my room still has some junk in it (from the people I rent from). That's a whole 'nother story in which I will begin with '/whine' or '/ranton'. Moving on, I haven't had much motivation to unpack my shit. This means I've been sleeping on my comfy couch and sadly looking at my grandiose bed as it leaned up against my bookshelf (which had no books on it either). Very sad, right?

I figured I'd use the motivation of not wanting to worry my father (about my living situation) to clean up the place and maybe move some shit around. I was very successful in at least making it look somewhat presentable by the time Pa arrived. Still some room for improvement, but way better than what he could've seen. It also allowed me to condense some boxes (onto the bookshelf) and setup my glorious bed (a Cal-King~woot!) which has been a very nice treat for me. I completely forgot how comfortable it is and it fits 3~bring on the threesomes!

The reason for his visit was to bring a new computer he bought for me, one which blows my old clunker out of the water by several years. He planned it to coincide with my kids' spring break, which is this week. In addition to all this, he brought a very large TV. I have no idea what I'm going to do with it considering I have no cable or DVD player to speak of.

Saturday was pretty much spent making my place look presentable, but Sunday, we decided to go down to Santa Cruz to check out the Boardwalk. My kids were quite pleased with this idea and thankfully, it's only a little over an hour drive to get there. It was a gorgeous spring day and the eye candy was everywhere! I guess the rides and games were cool too! The kidlings wore themselves out by going on every ride possible...some, as much as a dozen times. Their favorite was the 'Giant Dipper' and it's hard not to love it when you see the looks of delirious bliss on their faces. We stayed there a total of 6 hours and were thankful to finally see the sun go down. It marked the end of a very enjoyable day and my Pa couldn't help being pleased with the local scenery. He's a dirty old man, so I guess it's no surprise that I am as well.

It's been nice having my Pa (short for Padre) here in town. He's such a cool guy and seems to love the area I live. Maybe I can convince him and Ma to move up here some day. Hah, that's a fantasy at best, but a guy can (continue to) dream, right?

I am left with fond memories and a splitting headache~which I suspect I got from all the exposure to the Sun. It was worth the sunburn!