Ctrl-Alt-Delete

It's only when you truly choose to listen that you learn about yourself. And for me, this past year was one of the only years in my life where I in truth did very little. I got into routines. I built my life around those routines in an attempt to stave off the inevitable change that was on the way. I blamed the messengers instead of senders. I treated symptoms like diseases. And worst of all, I held onto far too much. I even held on to every entry of this blog, which I had told myself that I wouldn't do for more than six months at a time. Now, two years later. It's time to reboot.

I deleted my entire blog and build a new one. Same name. Same place, but if you want to read about all of my whining over exs and poverty and all the other shit I tended to go on an on about, know that from here on in that you have until December 31st of each year before I delete. And besides with all the copyright infringement cases popping up all over the net for photos used without permission, bootlegging, etc., I've taken myself completely out of the crosshairs. If I (or someone in my crew) didn't shoot it, it won't be on these pages. Plain and simple.

With that being said this year is getting better with every day that comes. With every day I have another idea for something that I want to do, a connection that I want to make, someone I need to reach out to, etc. As my plan was always to be a solid millionaire by 40 I've got about eight years left. Needless to say, I need to get cracking. I'm also back to cooking daily, eating less garbage, trimming my sugar intake and trying to think about life as an adult. As I reflected on things like how I handle money, why I never seem to get to go on a vacation, etc., I can easily deduce that many of my past difficulties have come from not looking far enough ahead when it came to practical matters. It was never rocket science and the world wasn't always out to get me. Growing up means knowing what you are and what you aren't, playing to your strengths and weaknesses and all that shit. So onto the next in all...

As I've been avoiding the nightlife for a series of reasons lately, I've had to think of ways to get out of the house that don't involve my usual forays into getting drunk, getting bored and standing in rooms full of folks I don't relate to talking about things I don't really care too much about. With this being a given I've made my home in bookstores and the poor man's university: the public library. Where I was once here out of necessity to leech off of the free wi-fi and internet access I am now here for the color of it all: the middle aged woman who reads out loud as if she's in a toastmasters meeting, the security guard with so much gel in her hair that it attracts link from other people's clothes, the other guard at the front who searches bags as if he just know's he'll be on the cover of the Daily News tomorrow for having discovered an explosive nuclear device in some poor seventh graders backpack. And of course there is the occasional cute and the vision of her perfect ass swaying left to right as she moves from the Fiction section to the borrowing line. And there's always the staff, who talk as if they're at a Nets game despite the fact that they're the ones who put up the "Quiet Please" signs in the first place. It hearkens back to the days Rich and I would setup at various locations around the city to be free of our cribs. And it is freeing. One of the biggest downside about my life is that I don't have co-workers or a business partner, or even a commute outside of the walk from the bedroom to the office. And I need a new coffee maker. Let me put that on the list too.

I've decided that this is going to be a big year for me, one where I'll manage to achieve some of the things I've sought after since I was a boy. And even if it isn't I'll get as close as I can. I'll do all that I do, be as close to the man that I should be, and stay the hell away from the kinds of people and pattern that encouraged me to plunge myself into the darkness from which I am finally returning. It is said that Scorpios make a habit out of dying, and I'm doing it once again. It feels good each time I slide through the womb once more, covered in ambition, faith and the reiterated knowledge that I am (for the most part) one of the good guys. Out.