Good

With regards to my previous post, I believe the expression is actually "breaking" your eye open. My bad, but the point is still valid, right?

Also with regards to my previous post, and being an angry asshole, I've been wrestling with some things for a couple weeks (well, probably my whole life, really, but not as much as I should have). I have always kind of tried to determine what kind of person I want to be. Sometimes, I wanted to be Will from About a Boy, and that worked for awhile because a lot of times, caring does lead to problems. When I watched Californication, I wanted to be Hank Moody. This was mostly because he had a lot of sex, but also because he had a real-life maverick thing going on, and who doesn't want to be that when they grow up? And even before that, I wanted to be like Warren Zevon, a lone-wolf partyer guy (He did write Mutineer," after all, and the classic "My Shit's Fucked Up."). That one went on for a good deal of 2005, actually, with mixed results. Well, the bars and the strippers made out okay.

After all of that, and all the crap that happened, and all the times people have told me, "You should go on more dates because I love the stories," because, y'know, I go on dates purely for the entertainment of others, I was sitting at home the other day and came to a revelation. When I grow up, I think I want to be a man of character.

It is not something I ever really attempted before. I remember Al Pacino in his big speech in Scent of a Woman saying, "I always knew the right path, but I never took it. Know why? It was too damn hard." I always kind of agreed with him. And I also think I always believed that if you were going to be a good person, you had to go all the way, and there was no way I was going to be Mother Theresa, so I was basically fucked.

But you don't have to accept Jesus Christ as your savior to be good, nor do you have to devote your life to a cause. I've seen a lot of corruption and anger in those people. No, to use a bit of a mixed metaphor, "God is in the details." You can be good at the little things, too. And you can listen to Warren Zevon and even be like him without being a dick. You can help people all the time without making miracles. I don't even think there's a real rule to it (Maybe the Golden One.) Just be good.

At least I'll try. And who knows? A couple weeks of that and maybe I won't have a disaster dating story to tell.

Splitting My Eye Open

I know the title sounds gross, but I'll make it sound all rosey in a few. Read on. Or don't.

Recent happenings have shown me a few things. Most important among them? I used to be an angry asshole. Not an asshole in the sense that I did mean things to people (although I probably did on occasion), but just in the sense that I was always bitter and generally hated everything. I don't know what I was so pissed about all the time. I had a roof over my head and computer to write my angry blog on, and money to spend on beer and comics. And I got laid way more than I do now. What did I really have to complain about?

Whatever the reason, I recently re-read some of my old "Dursin's Dungeon" columns that I used to post on Secretmonkey.com, and was amazed at how much of a dick I sounded like. Granted, part of it was a character I was portraying to try and get a response (which rarely worked), but it still all came out of me, and it was kind of scary. It's a wonder anyone wanted to ever hang out with me.

Back to the present era now, and last weekend. I spent it in Biddeford, Maine, visiting my friend Melissa. She lives and works at U.N.E., which is on the coast of the Saco River, a stone's throw from where it meets the Atlantic Ocean. I'm not usually affected by things like that, but I found this very cool, and quite beautiful. We also visited a beach not far away with waves that dwarfed anything I've ever seen in Massachusetts. I never even knew Maine had beaches. Probably because I've never had much reason or desire to go to Maine. I'm a city boy. I love my concrete jungle and having the ability to do whatever I want at pretty much any moment. But Maine was actually a really nice place, and if I had to live anywhere besides a city, it would be near the water.

And this is why I am splitting my eye open. I'm not talking about just keeping an open mind or whatever. It has to go deeper. "Splitting my eye open" is a phrase that art students use to describe how to enhance the way they look at works of art. I'm stealing it because I need to enhance the way I look at life. I don't want to be that angry old sod anymore. For one thing, I want to see what happens when an angry young man is no longer young or angry. Hopefully I'll be happy with the results.

Page Views? Here?

I haven't posted on this thing in awhile, but for some reason I checked the stats, and I had 180 views last month. I'm sure they are 'bots (in fact, I hope they are because otherwise, that's just sad.), but still it inspired me to write again. The fact that we can check up on that kind of thing is kinda scary and kinda cool at the same time.

But what have I done? Easy. Nothing. Have I been too busy to write here? I... guess? I have been working a lot, earning some extra dough, buying and returning a PS3, hopefully to buy it again. But that's about it. Working, living, drinking. It seems like I do less now than I ever did, and yet I apparently have very little free time for myself. Man, time is weird.

I actually think part of it is getting older, working harder, and not having the endurance to do the things I used to after work. But it's also kind of not feeling like I need to let loose every weekend like I used to. Hell, I already know I can drink with the best of them. Why be a show-off?

I kind of hope this isn't maturity kicking in. I never wanted to be that guy who admits to not needing to go crazy every weekend. I suppose if I had more money and more friends who were willing to booze it up every Saturday, I probably would (I am easily swayed), but I rarely get drunk anymore. A few weeks ago, I was out with a group of friends, and we stayed out all night, and this was after I had seen Red and drank with a different group of friends earlier in the evening. I have no idea how many high A.C. beers I had that night, and I still didn't really feel hat bad the next day. I mean, I've been a lot worse.

I guess it's not maturity as much as learning to take it slow. I'd rather sip and enjoy my beer and my company than chug it and hug and slobber all over them. That's why I drink the good beer. I do miss the old days when I could do it every Thursday night and walk in to work on Friday morning feeling like Superman. But, those days are mostly gone and I am okay with that. As much as I enjoy it, no one likes the creepy old dude at the end of the bar.

I'm not sure what I'm actually getting at, except maybe this; I'm almost 35, which is not old, but also not young. It's possibly too old to be doing what I'm doing. When ti comes to life, I'm forgetting more than I'm learning, and I'm caring less and less about it, but I'm also not really identifying with Warren Zevon anymore. I guess I'm not maturing, but I'm not exactly settling down, either.

This is why I tend to write less and less on here (Sorry to my 180 page viewers). Holding patterns don't lend themselves to great literature. I may never get "there," but that's the beauty of apathy; I'm very unconcerned with that right now.