- Condition One: Attack is present, or imminent. The CIC is locked down and the ship's commander is on station.
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Copyright © 1985- 2011 Alexcom Systems - GCMN. Tegucigalpa MDC, Honduras, Centralamerica
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Sep 14, 2011
“Love is a sudden revelation: a kiss is always a discovery” It is 3:35 am, September 14, 2011 After several delays, I have managed to start to write this description of a revelation that I just had. I am sitting in my room, listening to Zoé and watching Johhny Bravo. I am also very high. On marijuana. About 6 hours ago, I went and visited a friend who is taking care of another friend at a Honduran Military Hospital. I got there, we smoked a blunt, went inside, watched part of “The Hurt Locker”, ate junk food out a vending machine, smoked another blunt, I departed. On the long ass ride back, I started thinking about my currently ex-girlfriend. She’s a really sweet girl, who has a son. But, who in my opinion got a bad hand in life (teen pregnancy, abusive ex-boyfriends, etc.). Anyway, even though my instinct told me that she was nothing but trouble, I went out with her. We dated for about 5 months, 3 of them kind of tense and long-distance and then she broke my heart and kicked my ass out of her life. It broke my heart. I had lost my job. I had lost my girl. I was fucked. I stared smoking pot. I got better. She came back. There was an…incident. 3 weeks later, she said we were friends. I thought about her comment and told her that I couldn’t handle the friend status. And I broke it off. And broke her heart. We drifted apart. She owes me money, but is responsible enough to pay me back. I think things over. I miss her. I started calling her and talking to her. One night, drunk and high, I looked at her Facebook. I saw a picture of her and another dude. I started to freak out. I couldn’t handle the fact that she had REPLACED me. I called her at 3 am. I totally lost it. I cried. And cried. And barely made out fragmented, blathering sentences. She wouldn’t listen. She wouldn’t REASON. She wouldn’t admit to having a relationship with the other guy. She told me. “We’ll talk tomorrow.” She hanged up. Things we’re very, very bad afterwards. Bear in mind that all of this was not less than 72 hours ago. She said that she needed space. I got angry. I got sad. I had chest pains. My heart was shattering. Again. What had I done to deserve such heinous treatment? I DESERVED an explanation. A RATIONAL one. I spoke man to man to my father for the first time in my life. I was SHOCKED to hear what he had to say. I hated all women. Equally. DEVIL WOMAN. I accepted the fact that I was probably never gonna see my X again. And my heart shattered. But I was OK. The language behind the emails and text messages were violent. And painful. And blameful. I bowed my head and felt guilty. And I was almost sure that I had lost her. And it hurt. But, I didn’t know why. UNTIL TONIGHT. On the way back from the hospital (you remember the hospital, right?); I started to think about everything about her. And us. I couldn’t figure out why it hurt so much. Why her? I looked up at the sky and asked (begged) God for an answer. I believe in God (non-practicing Evangelist, pastor’s son). And He gave it to me. THE SPARK. I’m in love. But, I forgot The Spark. We went out once and I place my hand on her, nonchalantly and she wrapped her pinky around mine. I was electrocuted. I felt a shock run from the pit of my stomach to the tip of my spinal cord. I nearly crashed into a telephone pole. She was none the wiser. I felt it again tonight. Nearly crashed into a telephone pole again. I started to cry. I started to laugh, because I imagined myself telling my friends tomorrow. First time I’ve every felt this. How the fuck to I tell her? I’LL FIGURE IT OUT! TL;DR: I had an extreme religious/personal revelation. I AM IN LOVE FOR THE FIRST TIME IN MY LIFE. And I’m very high. PEACE!
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Sep 13, 2011
To IS: You're probably never gonna read this anyway. Who cares. You're angry at me for something I did to you a few weeks ago, that you did to me 6 months ago. You're not confused. You're mad. I was mad too. I didn't replace you at the drop of a hat like you did, but that's your problem, not mine. And you need space. You want space? Go work at NASA. I think I deserve better than this. I deserve a lot better than this because I weathered every storm we had. I stuck in there through everything, the good and the bad. And you need space. And I had to find out on how you were using your "space" via Facebook. I got scared. I read the wrong messages. You didn't do anything but nod your head and told me everything I wanted to hear. And now you're angry. And dating. Unsure. Of everything. I don't know. I'm in love with a woman who is in love with someone else and who is dating someone else, but is confused and angry at me for understanding the wrong signs and signals that she couldn't communicate clearly. You said it yourself! You KNOW that all of this is unfair, because it happened to YOU. And now you're doing it to ME. That's really fucking unfair. And it hurts. And now you won't look at me or talk to me. You offer me friendship. Why? So I can see you all lovey-dovey with your new "ME"? Fuck it. I think that all is lost. I have woken up with the sense that I could still save this, but every second that goes by while you're in your "space", I feel that it's another second that we drift apart. Possibly permanently. I let myself go with you. And you've hurt me. Twice. Who do you think should be angry? I should be angry. But, I'm not. I'm just hurt and sad. So. Yeah, take all the fucking time you need. Since I'm a giant idiot, in all definitions of the word, I'll be standing next to my phone, like a sick puppy. And you'll probably won't give a flying fuck. You probably don't give a fuck. You call me "special" and you say that you love me and stuff. And then you replace me. I don't know if to give up or fight for what I want. And possibly love.
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Sep 12, 2011
Nobody reads this anyways. Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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So. I haven't written here for a long while. And I need to write this down. Women are the Devil. In high heels. It was my fault. But, it was her fault too. She never told me what she wanted. And then, when I came out and told here what's what, she backed down and told me what she apparently thought I wanted to hear. And now she has a new beau. And she's confused. And mad at me. 'Cause I parked my ass out in front of her house. And I got bitched at. I deserved it. Updates to come. Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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Mar 31, 2010
It's just goodbye, you know? It's not "goodbye." It's just goodbye. Trust me. Everybody is less mysterious than they think they are. There's a difference between a failure and a fiasco. A failure is merely the absence of success. Any fool can achieve failure. But a fiasco, a fiasco is a disaster of epic proportions. A fiasco is a folk tale told to other's to make other people feel more alive because it didn't happen to them. What is that word? Whimsical! No true fiasco ever began as a quest for mere adequacy. A motto of the British Special Air Force is: 'Those who risk, win.' A single green vine shoot is able to grow through cement. The Pacific Northwestern salmon beats itself bloody on it's quest to travel hundreds of miles upstream against the current, with a single purpose, sex of course, but also...life. I've just recently decided that the things we know aren't black and white. All forward motion counts. In that moment, I knew success, not greatness, was the only god the world served. I am ill equipped in the philosophies of failure. We are intrepid. We carry on. Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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Mar 26, 2010
Pornography denigrates and overuses jazz music. Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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Mar 11, 2010
Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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Jan 1, 2010
So. 2010. We aren't exactly flying to Jupiter in the USS Discovery (look it up.) Or the Alexi Leonov (look it up.) Or neither do we have deranged supercomputers who were built in Urbana, Illinois (3 references to the same movie and still nothing?Good God...) But, I have good faith that 2010 will be a great year. Everything bad that could have happened, already happened back in 2009 (Except my untimely demise.) Right now, I'm standing in line, waiting to go in and watch "Inglorious Basterds", which is supposed to be a kick ass movie, although, I would have preferred "Zombieland", but whatcha gonna do? New Year's Eve was uneventful. Ate turkey with my folks and my twin nephews and then went to a friend's of a friend's house to play drinking games until the crack of dawn. I went back to my place and crashed until 3:00. I therein proceeded to feel like crap, due to the vodka. Totally uneventful. Come to think of it, I don't know why people say that going to the movie by yourself is bad. I disagree. The only downside is that I have nobody to tell my regular wisecracks about the movie. Screw it. I'm gonna get me some nachos. Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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Dec 18, 2009
I've always wonder it the people who write those "boy meets girl, some funny shit happens, boy loses girl, some more funny shit happens and, finally, boy recovers girl, via an elaborate and complicated way." type movie actually know what they're talking about. I mean the fact that they have a nerdy, sometimes virgin, main character, who has a really hot babe for a best friend and/or a fat, also nerdy, friend. Now, this formula has been used successfully in the past, numerous times. "Say Anything", "Pretty in Pink", "Can't Hardly Wait", "Sexdrive", etc. Now, what's wrong with this picture is that, in my opinion, we've been deceived by the same formula over and over again. It could be the fact that the general movie going public like a true triumphant underdog story or it could just be that we like to be had, again and again and again. A defining characteristic of these movie is that, in the end, the good guy gets the girl and the bad guy get his just desserts. Shit, if this were true, I'd be dating Megan Fox or something along those lines. I admit, when a movie is good, it brings pleasure to me. However, when the screen goes black, a certain sense of disappointment comes, because watch I just saw is not true. There is no girl that is gonna fall for me at the end of the movie, because she, along with every girl I know, goes for the bad boy. The guy who cheats on her constantly, who only calls her up for sex, who is incredibly jealous, etc, etc, ad nauseum. Dammit. I hate the fucking holidays. Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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Dec 17, 2009
This is some bullshit. Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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Dec 15, 2009
Ah, for fuck sake! So, I'm at the Hospital, picking up some work papers and suddenly I see a 9 month pregnant, pre-pubecent, Gossip Girl look-a-like reject bitch, who probably got pregnant while watching Twilight or some shit and her (presumed) sperm donating, closeted homosexual, Daddy Yankee-50 Cent wannabe motherfucker asshole manwhore dickfuck! They were laughing it up about the fact that she had to squeeze out the bastard child see carried in her giant belly, but it isn't this that pisses me off. What pisses me off it that THEY PROBABLY DON'T KNOW WHAT THEY'RE GETTING INTO, LET ALONE WHAT THEY'RE GONNA DO WITH A FUCKING BABY! And what pisses me off even more, is that Little Baby Junior Sonaofabitch probably doesn't care about knocking up the little bitch, because his parents are probably LOADED. Jesus Christ! HOLY SHIT! Where's the Tylenol? What happened to having a dream? A goal? And actually working towards it and achieving it? Shit, I'll work my damn ass of to become President of the Republic. I'll accept all of the help I need, but I have to work for it if I want it. Nobody is gonna give nothing. But, since this little rapper wannabe, earring wearing, piece of dung beetle asshole has money from his parents, he can do what ever the fuck he wants. FUCK! Ps: I LOVE the BlackBerry. Gives me a chance to rant in real time. Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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Dec 13, 2009
Interesting how the last 5 minutes of "Love Actually" can warm the heart. Hearing an Englishman clumsily propose to a Portuguese woman in PORTUGUESE and having the entire village cheer him on warms the heart. And gives you kookie ideas. There is a girl. A nice girl. To whom I've "proposed". You've heard the saying that in every comment said jokingly, there is 50% truth? Well, I told her: "Hey. Here's an idea. Let's get married." She tells me: "Sure. Why not?" I tell her: "No, I'm serious." "Uh-huh. OK. But, not untill I see a ring on my finger." She said, wiggling her left ring finger. I smiled coyly. "OK. I'll get you your ring. I don't want to hear any complaints afterwards." A couple of weeks later, I was sitting with her, chatting about stuff and so I took the opportunity and took off one of her rings and measured it with my pinky finger. I have the measurement. And the good thing was that she knew exactly what I was doing. So. I have the measurement. I have the drive. Do I have the insanity to go through with it? Sunday is a good day to go ring shopping, no? Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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Dec 12, 2009
Goddamnit. I'm bored. So fucking bored, it's not even funny(It's kinda funny, since I'm watching Family Guy right now). Stuck at home, on a fucking Friday, watching TV and playing games on the computer. The good news is that now I have a BlackBerry. Which makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside. How I survived without it before is inconceivable. Ha! Womanwise, I've got a couple of prospects, but nothing concrete. I guess this means another X-mas and New Year's, just me and my good friend, Mr. Jack Daniels. And cigar. And MAYBE a hooker. But, a pricey one. Sent from my BlackBerry® wireless device from Tigo
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Oct 18, 2009
So, it's been a while since my last post. A SHITLOAD of stuff has happened, which I will detail as succinctly as possible: 1) Mel, the FORMER President of Honduras got his ass booted out, since he was trying to illegally change the Constitution. He was exiled to Costa Rica and then sneaked back into Honduras and is currently holed up in the Brazilian Embassy. The former President of the Congress, Roberto Micheletti is now President of Honduras. 2) After 27 long years, the Honduran National Soccer team is going to the World Cup. I'll give you a moment to go apeshit. ... ... OK. Trust me, I went apeshit all night long. 3) I dated someone for a month and a half. Started dating her the day after I met her. Ended yesterday. Ended as quickly as it started. No regrets from my side, I've done this before. Now, on this last one I chose to push the Little Red Button because I didn't feel anything for her anymore. There I said it. I'll write some more later.
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May 27, 2009
100 posts! *Edited with and Ed Grimley vid, since I can't show the Beetlegeuse one due to copyright restrictions. People say that he looks like me...
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May 13, 2009
“Psychopathy is a psychological construct that describes chronic immoral and antisocial behavior. The psychopath is defined by a psychological gratification in criminal, sexual, or aggressive impulses and the inability to learn from past mistakes. Individuals with this disorder gain satisfaction through their antisocial behavior and lack remorse for their actions.” (From Wikipedia.org) Now, recently I’ve been called a psychopath by Emma Mendoza and friends, a person from my past that written about before (frequently). I think she should consult a psychiatrist for an accurate description. If I truly were a psychopath, she would be dead by now, buried in a pit in my backyard, with her skull adorning my wall. I’d be wearing her skin as a leisure suit. I would have tortured her so much; you would have thought that it was a career. Now, I’ll admit that I have a problem from learning from my past mistakes, but that is my problem and my problem alone. I’ll also admit that I have been aggressive in the past, but that is only part of my nature. I am aggressive when it comes to a lot of things in life. However, if I were truly a psychopath, believe me when I say that I’d have a fucking shrine in my room with Emma’s pictures all over the place and I’d stake out her house every night. I’d probably even break in. I don’t lack regret for my actions. Just ask her. I told Emma that I regretted everything I did. But, in the words of Thomas Crown, regret is a waste of time, as is gloating. I’ve heard on the street that she is afraid that I might harm myself or HER. Are you that INSANE? This is just testament to the fact that she never really knew me. That she was just another in a long line of my self-delusions. I love myself too much to harm myself. I don’t care enough to harm her, much less other people. Also, why the fuck should Emma care if I slash my wrists or give a Berretta a blowjob or not? Answer: because even though she doesn’t care about me relationship wise, she cares about me due to the fact that I’m a human being. Well. No shit. What are you? A nun or something? I was told to move on. I have moved on in a manner of speaking. What I do concerns me and nobody else. I told her that I was going to initiate a communications blackout, and I did. So why the fuck am I still hearing about it 2 months later? Now. I reiterate. Emma, evidently you do not know me. You know OF me. If you really knew me this wouldn’t be happening. If you really knew me, you’d know what I’m capable of. If you want to talk to me, fine. Fucking pick up the phone and call me. If not, SHUT THE FUCK UP. Also, to clarify a couple of comments, I may not “love life”, but I’m content as far as satisfaction goes. I have a good, well paying job, I have interests, I have passions and I have friends. Just because I’m lonely or “obsessed with you” does not give you the right to say one goddamn thing about me or my life. FUCK YOU. You lost your vote when you hanged up the phone. “Fixation (psychology), the state in which an individual becomes obsessed with an attachment to another human, an animal, or an inanimate object.” (From Wikipedia.org) I’ll admit that I had a FIXATION. How couldn’t I? The sex was AWESOME (There. I said it) and, other than the sex, she was OK to have around. What happened was that I got bored and scared. I get bored and scared very easily. Now, I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again: It was my fault and my fault alone. What do you want? A medal? A pat on the back? The truth of the matter is that I fell in love. Or at least I think I did. That’s why I got scared. So. Look at you. You brought the Spy Who Came in from the Cold and saw that he actually had a heart. So, you exposed him for the scared, little boy he really was. La-dee-fucking-da! “Obsessive love is a form of love where one person is emotionally obsessed with another.” (From Wikipedia.org) I may have reached this point. But, it’s already dead and gone. This was months ago. I have nothing else to say about this. In conclusion: 1) I like my life. It could be better if I had more money, but it’s fine. I’m lonely sometimes, but that’s why they invented bars, alcohol, cigars from Danli and the like. I have no intention to harm myself or anyone else (unless they fuck (but not in a sexual way) with me). 2) I made the mistake of falling in love and realizing it too late. That’s my problem and my problem alone. Do not look at things and blow them out of proportion. That was always your biggest problem (among other things). 3) Do you actually get a thrill out of making shit up about me? I bet you do. I’m gonna say one more time. If you want to talk to me, fine. Fucking pick up the phone and call me. If not, SHUT THE FUCK UP. 4) Think before speaking. You don’t really know me. 5) After reading this, you’re probably going to call someone and say that I blew up your car or decapitated your dog. Don’t. Please refer to #3. Thank you. That is all.
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Apr 23, 2009
My legs hurt. My arm aches. I feel dizzy. I just want to go home and sleep for 3 days. No, I'm not hung over. I played racquetball yesterday for the first time in my 23 year existence on this clod of dirt called Earth. I loved it. I played for 10 minutes and I started to sweat like if I ran 30 km. My lungs burned, due to my smoking, I gather. I've decided to cut down on the butts, since I'm taking up this sport. I don't know why I like it. Maybe it the running, the screaming, the fact that that little rubber ball can take your head off if it hit you the wrong way. The adrenaline rush you get from nearly slamming into the concrete wall. The little pseudoerotic thrill you get when you imagine a face on ball before smashing it into oblivion. Let's hope I don't get killed. In other news, I've discovered that the world has gone mad. What the fuck is all of this shit about getting married, having babies, getting serious, when you're in your early 20's? What ever happened to, I don't know, GRADUATING?! Getting a good job? Doing something with your life instead of getting knocked up or knocking someone up? I mean, look at me. I'm gonna be a Congressman in about 5 years.
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