One of these things is not like the other...

*Disclaimer: I'm drunk. Very drunk. It's 6:35 on a Tuesday evening and I'm hammered. Now, while this might lead you to wonder what got me here, let's not focus on that at the moment. The following stream of consciousness thought is brought to you by Vodka.*

first, why am I here? There has been one major shift in my life, and I wonder if it's affecting (effecting?) everything in my life. My band broke up. Truthfully? My band kicked me out. Band kicks out the lead singer. Does that really happen? Oh my, yes.

Losing the band, while it seems trivial to some, has affected (effected?) me greatly. I have no outlet. I have no distraction. From life. From everything. From job. From girlfriend. I have no way for me to really express myself, which I think is the biggest thing that I miss. You can see it, and it must be very transparent, every time I watch a movie or a show wherein someone is a creative person, writing music or lyrics or both... and I say, "Man, I wish I played piano/guitar/flute, and man, I wish I had a band." It's awful. I think that's where Maggie and I begin having our (numerous) problems. When she met me, I was the frontman (that's fancy-speak for a singer) for a mildly successful local band. Our second date was at one of our fucking shows, at the fucking Fox Theatre in fucking Boulder, for Fuck's sake! Was she impressed? OF COURSE she was fucking impressed. And now? Now, I have nothing to impress her with. And that's not self-deprication for the sake of self-deprication. This is fact: I am not the same person she met and fell in love with. I am responsible.

Now how awful is that?

Now, not only do I not have a band, but i haven't written a lyric in six fucking months. The last three songs I wrote were about Maggie, and now I feel so numb to the idea of writing that i can't do it. Not even on my blog, for the two people that actually read my blog. How awful is that?

THAT, my friends, THAT is awful.

So that's where I am.

Maggie Chronicles: we're not together. It pains me every waking moment, truthfully. This isn't a matter of being with "someone" as it has been with Lauren, and to a lesser extent, Jenny. This is a matter of being with HER, with MAGGIE, with the one that I'm fucking crazy about. I've been with others. I've seen others, kissed others. It's not the same. I don't know how to explain that. Here's the rundown:

Josie: The person I met when Maggie and I first started our "break." She's very nice, we have great conversations, she is attractive, smart, funny. Ultimately, we don't fit. Don't know why. A few kisses here and there. We did not have sex.

Rebecca (Becky): Went to high school with Becky (now Rebecca). Rebecca was my editor at the high school paper. Rebecca (then Becky) fired me from the paper and failed me for the class. We went out to drinks, got drunk, and ended up making out. I came over to her new house and played Cable Guy, setting up her television. We took part in some heavy petting. We did not have sex.

MC (name redacted because it is somewhat unique and will show up in a Google search if I include it here, and I'm looking to protect the innocent): Lovely girl, met her on new years. Maggie was in Texas, working for an old friend on his farm. Blah. Hit on me. Danced with me. Enjoyed my company. Gorgeous, funny, interesting, LOUD. Eats sushi. Has two dogs, one of whom snores (fucking pugs. Seriously. if you have to have your nasal passages snaked upon birth, you do not deserve to live. There, I said it.), but has large breasts and no interest in having children. So there's no long term potential. I will be seeing her for happy hour tomorrow. Should be a complete disaster; I'll get you tickets.

Kim: Young. Too young. WAY too young. What the fuck am I doing here? Am I just falling, grabbing on to any (large) breasts that I can grab on the way down? Am I desperate? She's fun to fool around with and fun to drink with (illegally -- sorry, everyone), but... fuck me, she's 20 years old! I'm going to be 30 before she's 21! Is this okay? At all? Probably not. Cancelled plans with her this evening because there's no fucking way that can happen. And also because the *real* love of my life called me and reminded me that there's a dinner in her boyfriend's honor tonight. Shoot me. In the balls.

So that's that. And there's still Maggie in the picture. So.

Fuck me.

And of course, I just watched "Forgetting Sarah Marshall," which made me think that A) perhaps Maggie tried forever to get me where she wanted me to be, and B) maybe Maggie is in fact the devil. Should be an interesting couple of months here.

Any insight you three readers could give me would be appreciated.

FINALLY!

On this most incredible of days...

In a time of much questioning, of much optimism...

When there is much uncertainty...

We are pleased to announce...

Sam Versus World's long-awaited return to the Blogosphere.

Have we had this "Hope" for "Change" before? Perhaps. But this time, we mean it.

We're putting our party pants on. And we're ready to rock.

And now, a post of silence on the ninth anniversary of my father's passing.

Miss you pop. Wish you could see me now.

GOLF????? He gave up GOLF??????????????

Talkin' bout my g-g-generation

The generation that I'm in - Generation Y, if you want to call it that (and have me shoot myself in the balls!) - is an interesting group. Far from the "Greatest Generation" of WWII era veterans in a hopeful existence filled with tranquility and pink houses and suburbs and all the rest, we're a self-absorbed bunch of self-medicated-and-self-psychoanalyzed idiots, all speaking out loud like we're starring in our own John Cusack film, walking through the narrative of our daily lives like it has any gravity at all.

Not that i'm any better. I analyze every move I make 30 times before I make it, first checking with friends and select coworkers about the best course of action. We're afraid of our own shadow, scared to offend, or stand up, or... do anything on our own. Which seemingly runs counter to the very American idealism we tend to espouse.

We hate ourselves, pray we don't become like our parents, seek immediate answers to long-term problems (dating sites will be the downfall of this nation's relationships... believe it) and live in a culture which places a premium on replacing difficult parts of life, not fixing the problem. Hole in the dam? Buy a new dam! Car have a flat tire? Buy a new car! Problems with the wife? Match.com will give you 6 months at only $16 per! Find a new wife!

I'm just sick of it. Probably because I'm so wrapped in the same cloth that I so despise.

Sigh.

Birthdays, mortality, and The End

Forgive me a little self-indulgence, if you please.

I turned 29 today. As in, one year from 30. 9 from 20. 11 from 40. 21 from 50.

29, in all respects, should not be a "big deal" birthday (my list is as follows: 16, 21, 25, 26, 30, 40, 50). However, in my family, the DW men do not last beyond 60. They just don't.

So am I looking at my midlife crisis? This is the question I've been pondering all morning.

Perhaps it's best that I haven't heard "Happy Birthday" from many today. I'm having a lot of trouble seeing what's so "happy" about it.

There are some crazy people in this world.

Is this news? Hardly.

Somehow, a couple months back, while at work, I got on the Internet Trail of New World Order conspiracy theorists that believe, among other things, that the Washington Monument's height is perfectly divisible by '666', that Washington DC is laid out as a pentagram, and that Denver International Airport, our beloved DIA, is to be the central headquarters of the New World Order once the Illuminati comes to power and begins washing our brains of truth.

I don't know where to begin, either. Although I'm starting to think about a trip to DIA to disprove a lot of these theories... they just seem too crazy.

Yes, there's an underground train going from terminals to concourses. Yes, there are a lot of fences and steel and "holding cells" for things like baggage, different departments of airline headquarters, etc. Seems like most of it is an overreaction to some very basic airport infrastructure to me.

However, some of the claims, about the Masons and some sculptures, paintings, etc., are interesting (which is why I ended up on these trails to begin with).

Want to waste an hour or two without knowing you're doing so? Check This Out:



Then, class, do some Google searches. "Denver International Airport New World Order," "DIA murals," etc.

Why would I write about this if I don't believe in, well, any of it? Mostly because I'm fascinated by human nature. I'm fascinated that people would look so deep into a mural at an airport (which the artist says is just about environmentalism in an article HERE) and see all these horrible atrocities, amazed and stunned that someone would take the above video and really believe that a warehouse and a bunch of abandoned land would be used as, essentially, a concentration camp.

Just makes me laugh.