Loren's Journal

11:17pm: i have a crush on a boy. it's about goddamn time. i think he likes me, too.

woot!

2:12am: "if you're going to be crazy, you have to get paid for it or else you're going to be locked up."

11:46pm: "World of Warcraft

The most popular massively-multiplayer game in the world sucks in millions of fans, often leaving non-gaming spouses and significant others neglected. So, while you're rare material farming, going on a massive raiding party or kicking back at an Azeroth Inn with some guild mate, your significant other may look for a new person to form a real-life party with.

hahaha. so true.

8:17am: it's nice to feel like a woman again.

9:52am: my friend from uganda wants to take me on a date tonight. how cute!

12:34pm: i think i feel like it's too good to be true. i mean, he works for himself, has employees, organizes fundraisers, reads books, and smokes weed. he's nice, makes lots of money, enjoys my company, goes to college, wants to start his own business, wants to go to med school.

goddamn, i should go for it.

6:46pm: first i needed to learn how to accept the fact that i shoulder some of the blame. now, i have to learn how to live with it.

this whole recovering thing is not as easy as i'd hoped it would be. but i'm learning new things about life and i'm learning that i can handle alot more shit than i gave myself credit for.

here's to good times!

1:33pm: i don't think it would be stretching the truth to say i am more impressed with two tongues than i am with any of the newer saves the day.

5:09am: once you open the door to one person anyone can come in.

4:51am: he tells me i'm beautiful and he calls me baby.

life is good.

7:41am:

10:05am: you're the only person i never minded making eye contact with. i liked that look you got in your eyes and the smile you got on your face.

sometimes, i think about the good times.


but there aren't that many to remember.

6:37pm: "...with sparks that ring and bullets fly on empty rings around your heart the world just screams and falls apart."

11:28pm: hang out with me before i move to tallahassee!

10:35am: this is a blog entry by michael ian black. he is a stand-up comedian and also an actor but he is not very well known. he played the gay counselor in "wet hot american summer" and he was on VH1's "i love the 80's" and "i love the 90's".

he's fucking hilarious.




Sometimes you have to give a little to get a little. A couple weeks ago, I was standing in the roadway median with an empty Burger King cup, asking motorists stopped at the traffic light if they could "spare a little change." For the most part they just pretended they didn't see me, which I found hard to believe considering I was wearing a full Batman costume (rental). One fellow remarked that he found it hard to believe that a fellow who could afford to rent such a professional looking Batman costume would need any "spare change," to which I responded, "Hey Buddy, if you had any idea what this costume cost to rent, you would understand EXACTLY why I need the extra cash!"

(By the way, the costume cost two hundred and fifty dollars for the day, but I wasn't about to tell HIM that.)

A few people laughed at me, which I expected, and one elderly woman asked if I could help her out of a jam. I'm paraphrasing here, of course. Old women don't say "jam," unless they are talking about jelly. For some reason, they never say "jelly," and just to clarify, she didn't ask me to "help her out of a jelly," which wouldn't make any sense, although if she had asked me to "help her out of SOME jelly," that would make sense, although I can no more imagine why anybody would be stuck in jelly in a roadway median than they could probably imagine why a wealthy and well-known comedian would be begging for spare change while wearing a very professional looking Batman costume.

Anyway, as I said, this lady was in some trouble. It seems her no good son was freeloading at her home, not paying rent, not helping buy groceries, not doing much of anything except sitting on his fat ass in front of the TV, and mooching off his mama. She asked if I would help with the situation. Traffic had kind of slowed down at that point, so I agreed. I got into her Corolla and we drove back to her house, which was a cute little Dutch Colonial on the end of a cul-de-sac in some town that seemed a little on the Jewy side to me.

When we got there, she led the way into the house screaming, "Arnold, Batman's here to kick your ass!" At this point, I started to get nervous because the truth is, I wasn't really planning on kicking anybody's ass, not even the ass of a free loader. There were two reasons for this. The first was that I have limited (non-existent) combat skills. The second was that I was afraid of losing my deposit on the costume if it ripped or got stained (another two hundred and fifty dollars). In my head, I was thinking more along the lines of giving Arnold a stern talking to in my best Batman voice. In fact, I had been practicing on the car ride over: "Arnold, you need to get a job. So sayeth Batman." I know that Batman never says "sayeth," but I always figured if you're "The Dark Knight," you should occasionally say things like "sayeth." That's what I was planning on doing, anyway.

Like all battle plans, however, this one was immediately discarded upon confronting the enemy. First of all, I felt like the old lady had misled me somewhat about Arnold. Yes, it was obvious that Arnold wasn't contributing to the household in any way. He was morbidly obese and dressed in soiled clothes that looked as though they hadn't been changed in weeks or maybe even months. He was about forty or forty five years old, unshaven, and plopped directly in front of the television, just as she described. What she had neglected to mention was that Arnold was obviously severely retarded. And it wasn't just his helmet that gave his condition away. It was the drool and the fact that when I entered the living room he looked at me and starting yelling "BA-MA! BA-MA!," which I was told was the way Arnold said "Batman."

(To be honest I kind of figured that out on my own, but I thought there was a long shot possibility that he was yelling "Badminton! Badminton!" which would have been very strange considering the circumstances, but honestly, what do you expect from a retard?)

The old woman started yelling at Arnold, telling him Batman was there to straighten him out and that I was going to kick his ass and that if he thought he could get away with "this," he had another think coming. Well, I just kind of stood there, completely unsure what to do. On one hand, I was beginning to feel sort of foolish about the whole situation. I mean, here I was, in this strange woman's living room in my Batman costume when I could be out there in the roadway median asking strangers for change. On the other hand, I did agree to help her out of a jam (paraphrasing), although it was becoming less and less clear to me exactly what the jam was, and what she expected me to do about it.

Grudgingly, and more as an attempt to extricate myself from this incredibly awkward situation than anything else, I went over to Arnold and said, "Arnold, get your act together. So sayeth Batman." Then I kicked him in the stomach.

It wasn't a very hard kick, just enough to startle him, but it pleased the old woman enormously. She started clapping her hands and saying, "See? See that?" After a few tears, Arnold turned his attention back to the television ("Days of Our Lives,"). She seemed satisfied with my performance. Then she opened her purse and handed me a five dollar bill. I briefly considered turning down the money on the assumption that Batman would have turned it down, but then I reflected on the fact that Batman didn't have to rent his own costume. So I took the money and put it in my Burger King cup, which at this point was crumpled up in my jeans pocket (underneath the costume.) Then she gave me some lemonade and drove me back to the median, where I didn't make another dime.

The next day I returned the costume and on my way out, the guy asked if I would be renting it again the following week, as I had indicated I might. I told him I would not.

12:02am: What a beautiful face I have found in this place
that is circling all round the sun
When we meet on a cloud I’ll be laughing out loud,
I’ll be laughing with everyone I see,
Can’t believe how strange it is to be anything at all.

3:21pm: but for now we are young. let us law in the sun and count every beautiful thing we can see.

6:51am: finally free from the ups and downs.

6:16pm: you can't buy off unhappiness with pills.

2:19am: dear justin mooney, you're psychotic ex-girlfriend returned your fucking camera so stop whining.


she had a wedding over the weekend and family in town. it's not like she was holding it for ransom.

get over yourself.

sincerely,
loren howell.

8:25pm: don't judge my family on what you think you know. my parents worked harder than your parents will even be able to comprehend to get to where they are today. you see them with their GPS systems and their escalades but just because my family makes money now doesn't mean we always had it this good. you would know this if you had bothered to try to get to know them. but you avoided them like the plague.




no, i'm not ashamed of how much money my parents make. no, i am not ashamed if six people work in my dad's office. i don't care if your parents like to think we own a multi-million dollar corporation. you don't know what my parents/family went through to get to where they are today and if they want to spend a few extra dollars because they can afford it (instead of shopping at fucking ross) than yeah, they're going to spend THIER money however they damn well please.




and don't even try to act like i wasn't good to you or i kept secrets from you. i was always honest about how it was hard for me to open up to people. it's not like i was lying to you about anything. i told you what was on my mind when i felt it was appropriate.




but whenever i did decide to open up or whenever i did decide that there was something i'd like to talk about or something i needed to get off my chest you had something else you'd like to discuss.




so thanks, thanks for giving me a hard time about my trust issues and then reminding me why i have them.




goddamn, you're good. if it was your intention to fuck me up in the head (heart), like it wasn't fucked to begin with, you sure as hell did a good job.




the fact of the matter is, it was your own insecurities that ultimately got to you. you couldn't just accept the fact that i loved you. i always felt like i had to prove it to you. so you can go ahead and think that i'm just like every girl. that i was just using you. that i was just some manipulative bitch when the reality is in your fucking head.




there are so many things i'd like to say and i'm tired of holding my tongue.




and i'm tired of you thinking you're "a better man" because you aplogized first. no, i'm not going to fucking apologize. i'm not even fucking sorry we broke up. so get off my shit.




i shouldn't have texted you anything last night but in my drunken stupor it seemed like a good idea.






i fucking hate you. please forget my phone number and every other way of getting in touch with me.






p.s. i've already been with two guys since we broke up. less than two weeks ago.




so, think about it.


what's really worse? seeing me cry or thinking about another man touching me the way you used to touch me? would you like me to go into every small detail? do you want me to tell you everywhere he touched me, everywhere he kissed me, and every time i got goosebumps?

i hope this makes you angry. blame me for your problems but it's not my fault you're all fucking selfish. and yes, i am talking about your sad excuse of a family.

8:24pm: i'm moving to virginia. with my aunt. i am leaving by the end of this week.

it's a twelve hour drive but we can make as many stops as we want. i have friends and family between here and there that we could stay with.

let's road trip! you could drive up there with me and fly back. let me know if you're interested.

also, if you like fishing, we might even be able to turn this into a fishing/camping trip, too.

6:50pm: if you love me at all

don't call.

11:19am: you're a damn liar.

but you're fucking good at it.

5:05am: "What does borderline personality mean, anyhow? It appears to be a way station between neurosis and psychosis: a fractured but not disassembled psyche. Though to quote my post-Melvin psychiatrist: "It's what they call people who's lifestyles bother them.'"

but really, who doesn't have a lifestyle that bothers them?