Saturday, November 21, 2009

The Oregon Trail Chronicles

Alright, so, this is something I wrote over two years ago, and I recently read it again. It's kind of cheating in that it's not a "fresh" blog post because it wasn't written for the blog and is lacking any degree of timeliness. Whatever. The other day when I was reading the crap I used to write for myself I thoroughly enjoyed it so I wanted to share...

Oregon Trail Chronicles: The Diary of Ezekiel Hughes

17th day of August, 1848
I watched from the bank as Jebediah tried to save a few dollars and float the river instead of paying for the ferry. He lost 8 oxen and his youngest son. He still has 20 oxen left, though. Damn Jew banker. He'll probably buy 50 boxes of ammunition and another son at the next fort.

25th day of August, 1848
Well, I'll be damned if Joseph don't have dysentery for the third time this month. I wish the good Lord would let me know what this boy has been eating. He leaves at night when we're asleep and comes back looking like quite a site to behold with leaves in his hair, dirt all over his face n' clothes and somehow smelling worse than he did the day before. He swears to his ma and me that he ain't eatin' nothin' out there, but I been a young'un once myself, and I know a fib when I hear one.

8th day of September, 1848
I hate to do it, but it must be done. We're low on food, and I'm going to have to make the whole family cut back on their daily rations. I'd go hunt for something, but the boys and myself used up all the ammunition shooting every buffalo that we saw soon after setting out from Missouri.

13th day of September, 1848
Little Anne broke her leg today when she was convinced that she could fly off the top of our wagon and catch one of those vultures that have been following us around these past few days. Apparently, she's been eating just about anything that she comes across out here in the wilderness since I cut back on her cornbread, and she found herself a whole mess o' those "Devil Mushrooms." I couldn't find a very straight stick to set the leg in the cast we made for her, but I'm not too worried. My ma used to always say about broken bones: "If the good Lord Jesus wants that you have straight 'uns. He'll make it so."

Friday, November 6, 2009

The Past 24 Hours of Lame

Let's see here. Twenty-four hours ago I was wrapping up a hockey broadcast and being somewhat inebriated. Right now I'm tired, sore, and hungry, and my shoes are soaking wet. I'll fill in the middle.

After going home from my broadcasting duties I sat in my apartment and allowed myself to imbibe a tad more. From here the only logical course of action for me to take would have been to drunkenly text someone, and so, I did. I texted a young lady (the one from the "About a Girl" post) and told her she should dump her boyfriend because she deserved better. Smooth. An incoming call from her phone promptly greeted me.

When I answered it was not the voice of the girl who owned the phone on the line. It was her roommate. I subsequently received an earful of frantic invective.

"You have no right to tell her what to do! He is the best thing that's ever happened to her!"

"Whoa, whoa. Wait." I tried to gain some control of the conversation but to no avail.

"Don't you tell me 'whoa!' He treats her like a princess!"

She said something else, and I said, "Hey!" That was no use, though, because she'd already hung up. I was upset to the point I was shaking a little bit, but it was weird. I didn't feel like I was that bothered by it, but there was physical evidence that spoke to the contrary.

I texted the roommate and told her not to defend the guy. She texted me back to say it wasn't my business and that it was up to the girl's friends, family, and boyfriend to look out for her.

"Well, make sure you and her friends do a good job."

I guess I lost my friendship status. My number of friends on facebook has probably dropped in the past 24 hours. I'm pissed at myself for even saying anything. I could've waited for a better time to shoot my mouth off, but the alcohol makes the trigger itchy. I'm going to have to quit emotionally investing myself in people.


For my next trick I smoked weed for the first time in months. Despite all the drama and hoopla, I had a pretty good time. I didn't go to bed until late as a result, and I woke up really early the following morning for no reason at all.

I took on some homework when I arose from bed, and a little later I had to go to work several hours earlier than usual. I just recently clocked-out, and I regret to say I never took a break. My legs are killing me, and I'm cold because my clothes are wet from cleaning up. I need to take a shower, but I don't think I'm gonna make it. I'll probably just crash and be stinky.

Just before I got home a different lady-friend of mine told me she broke up with her boyfriend. If I was looking for results I guess I was whispering in the wrong girl's ear.

I need to lie down and take off these clothes. I'm pretty sure I forgot some stuff, but it's not important. None of it is.

Sunday, November 1, 2009


I couldn’t wait to get to work this past Friday. I even went in nearly two hours early. I don’t know why, but I felt like I just needed to be there, like it would make me feel better. It did, too. All my pent up stress just melted away as I started shrink-wrapping foam trays of beef.

It seems like when I’m at work I’m not stressed out because in the back of my head I feel I can use my job as an excuse for not getting my studying done. Accordingly, everything that’s bothering me just goes away when I’m clocked-in, and I don’t even think about school at all.

I’ve tried doing homework there, but it’s impossible. Customers or employees are always trying to talk to me, and starting and stopping reading all the time to help people obliterates any degree of concentration I can muster.

Playing guitar used to help me relax, but that relief is pretty much nonexistent these days. I started taking guitar lessons in August. I’ve become a better guitarist, but now I basically have guitar homework every week. That plus worrying about performing up to my teacher’s expectations just adds on the tension.

My guitar lessons are on Fridays. So, I actually canceled my lesson the other day so that I could go to work before I was scheduled. When I told my teacher I was called in to work, he told me to not let them make me “their slave.” I think I’m going to put my guitar tutelage on hold for a while so I can have my job and my music to calm my nerves.

To add on to the anxiety, a dermatologist told me I have fairly good chance of developing melanoma in the coming years thanks to the frequency of moles on my skin and the sporadic occurrences of skin cancer in my unfortunate family history. Sweet. In all honesty, the idea of cancer isn’t bothering me all that much. I’ve been trying to get a mole excised since July though, and doctors keep passing me around like a damn case of crabs instead of actually removing it. Now I’ve got another appointment with a different dermatologist December 7th on my birthday, and a happy one it will be, I’m sure.

Anyway, I’ve been on edge because of school and doctors, and a back massage would be really nice right now. Maybe I can get that girl I’m stressed out about to show me some love...