The Malignant Narcissist

Huh...

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Thu, 01 Oct 2009 18:40:45 PDT

Seems the recent FDA ban on flavored dip also included a ban on flavored cigs.

Bye-bye cloves. I barely knew thee, but our brief affair so long ago was so sweet, so delicious.

Seems I do have something in common with the raving redneck on youtube.

I do actually believe people have the right to smoke or chew if they please, and even this kind of limitation is overstepping the boundaries of government regulation, in my mind.

-sighs- The next step is to put a ban on flavored cigars, cigarillos, and anything else delicious. I may have to join the picket-lines yet...

Hola

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Mon, 28 Sep 2009 12:38:24 PDT

Anyone seen the trailer for the Nightmare on Elm Street remake?

Krueger is played by the guy who played Rorschach in Watchmen, which is just awesome.

The other awesome part is this film actually takes on a serious tone, with the question of whether or not Krueger molested children being a prominent part of the plot.

I'm glad to see it's going to be super scary and wicked, but I'm hoping the movie doesn't end with the children trying to apologize and the parents see the error of their ways and Krueger forgives them and fades into a white light, or some stupid shit like that.

I want blood, and lots of it, but done artistically and as evilly as possible. I hope the parents get what's coming to them, too.

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 23:02:27 PDT

Fuck me and my big fucking mouth.

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Mon, 21 Sep 2009 21:58:36 PDT

-sighs-

A While

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Tue, 15 Sep 2009 19:07:44 PDT

It's been a while since I've posted on here, yet again.

I've been semi-kinda-sorta busy-ish with my other blog, in that I keep going to it but failing to write something in it.

Um...let's see. I have two guitars now. One acoustic and one electric. Got them both for about $40. They may be cheap, but perfect for learning as far as I'm concerned.

Still no luck with the work world, but one day, some day, maybe.

Coo-coo kachoo.

The Festival

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Fri, 04 Sep 2009 23:11:05 PDT

There was a free festival at Market Commons today. It's going on tomorrow, too.

There's BBQ, car shows, and great music.

So far, I've taken a ton of pictures and plan to take even more tomorrow. It's going to take me forever to get all of them posted, but I will get it done.

The weather's been so nice, and the music so much fun. I got my picture with the last surviving original member of The Tams. I got many great pictures of them playing...well...four pictures...I ran out of film. But they're all great, I'm sure!

I'm almost out of money, though, so I gotta find a way to make $6 last an entire day.

Hay Gais!

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Tue, 25 Aug 2009 19:02:45 PDT

Knock Knock.

Who's there?

Obama's-penis-wasn't-circumsized-maybe-we-don't-know-so-he's-a-secret-muslin-terrorist!

Whargarblagragraarblgarbl!

The last time the Republican Party was serious was...like the late 1800's, right?

Ever? Anyone? Anyone?

yeah

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 20:37:14 PDT

so much for that.

Lotto Night

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Wed, 19 Aug 2009 18:51:34 PDT

I had a dream the other night about having the winning lottery numbers. I have used those numbers for the draw tonight.

Here's hoping.

Right...

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Sat, 08 Aug 2009 10:04:38 PDT

"...up there all the time...all he does now....-incoherent muttering-...and I jump up out of bed at 7:30 in the morning to see..."

It's so lovely when I come upstairs to take some more time to myself to avoid being around them. I check my mail to see if I've heard back from any of the places I've applied to. I'll dick around on the Internet and find games to play, or look at obscure news articles about topics that generally don't pertain to any aspect of my life.

Once in a while I may call you. I'll feel happy, hearing your voice and knowing you're happy to hear from me too.

But because I call at night, or sometimes you might call, I'm the villain. I'm "not right", doing things that are "sick" and they "don't understand".

The reason I'm upstairs right now is because I was going to write down some recipes I found and throw away the ugly promotional cards they came on. I was also going to put on shoes. Instead, I'm writing this now because the quote at the top is the kind of bullshit I hear every single time I go upstairs. It doesn't matter if they know I can hear them, they'll just say it to my face and go on about their day, probably asking me five minutes later what I'd like for dinner. As though assaulting me is just part of the everyday experience now.

I come upstairs and they talk about me, as though I'm some rebellious problem child that is violently out of control. And they wonder why I stay up here? If I'm such a fucking problem, maybe I should stay up here, and get out of their hair. If I hate them so much, if I'm so fucking disrespectful, maybe I should just stay up here, away from them, so I can't be hateful, so I can't act like I "don't owe (them) anything at all".

They have yet to see rebellious. They have yet to see violent, angry, and all the things they act like I'm being.

This is goddamn ridiculous.

I wish i could laugh it off, like you do, but I can't. I'm sad that things are like this, because they simply don't accept how I want to do certain things.

Maybe I can leave soon. Hopefully soon.

Oh look...they're talking about how messy I am now...

Yeah...

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Fri, 07 Aug 2009 17:23:28 PDT

"I don't think you care about us...me and Bryan. I don't know what the deal is. You don't listen to what we say...- It's like you do what you want, and your stuff is first priority."

This really is the most damning thing that has been said to me by my family. I do not know why mom insists upon such...complete nonsense. Because I hesitate to listen to her continually complain about dad, and how when I tell her that he does not listen to me (after complaining that I do not help her get the point through his thick skull) I am once again somehow siding with him, and for an added touch of flavor, hate her.

Because I try once in a while to leave the house just to be by myself, exploring the town as though I actually lived here and could have any hopes of enjoying any of it.

Because I do not immediately do chores around the house.

Because I want to talk to whoever the hell I want to talk to.

Because I am no longer a child and can and do make decisions for myself.

Because she cannot get over herself, and if I were to ever say that, she would cry and really believe I hate her.

Because my life has apparently consisted of nothing more than making one "poor choice" after another, despite finding myself to be somewhat happy and enjoying the things I've done for myself.

Because I don't live in fucking bizzaro world and don't know what the fuck she is talking about anymore.

Because I exist, probably.

Bullshit.

It's all bullshit.

Good News

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 20:07:09 PDT

"you have to be practical about irrational fears, otherwise you are neurotic."

Thanks, Samantha.

Nevermind

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 17:09:11 PDT

Nevermind. Twitter's alive again.

Gracias por dios!

Twitter Addiction is Real

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Thu, 06 Aug 2009 17:03:54 PDT

I'm addicted to Twitter, apparently. It was attacked by hackers today, and I cannot access my account. Furthermore, my Tweetdeck is all sorts of fucked, so I'm kinda spazzing out right now.

Damn you, Interwebs...damn you...

Word of Advice, (Take As You Will)

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Tue, 28 Jul 2009 01:48:48 PDT

Peanuts.

A Space That Shouldn't Have Been Left Empty

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Fri, 24 Jul 2009 23:53:05 PDT

It's 2:11am right now, and I'm sitting here...well, laying here, in bed, wondering what I should be doing aside from sleeping.

I feel more and more restles. I figure it's the fact that I'm still jobless, and that my efforts to secure a job seem paltry at best. It's probably the fact that I always feel inadequate around you, and no matter how many times you tell me "it's OK" and that I shouldn't, I still will. You say it's because I do not have enough confidence in myself, and that I need to believe in myself or else how can I believe in anything, even you.

Tonight was not a good night. I'm alone, rather than softly muttering into the phone and having to repeat myself and grinning because I know you want to talk to me despite my ways.

I'm stubborn, I'm brash. I'm foolish.

You should know that I do have motivation, that I do put forth effort. I don't believe I have "all the time in the world"...I never have. I simply don't act, and that has caused more problems than good, for myself and for us, for everyone I've ever dealt with it feels like.

But now, here I am, 7 minutes later, still in the dark, still alone, typing on a dirty laptop with a dead fruit-fly staining the corner of my screen. Has this gotten me anywhere? Does typing this out do anything for me? Maybe. All I can see is that when I actually create the words, when I can get them out of my head and on to something more...real...or at least more visible than from within my head, I don't feel as pressured. I don't feel like I'm being so easily crushed into a little ball.

But why should I feel so pressured, like I'm stuck in a compactor with no way out? Am I holding myself down to a lower standard and not allowing myself to achieve something? Am I simply resigning to the notion that there is nothing I can do in this world that makes a difference and I should just give up? I don't think I am, because I probably would have actually said that a million times by now. I doubt I'd bother writing about it, because that would only accentuate the futility of the whole thing. I think.

There's not much to this post. I'm just rambling to empty out my head a bit for other words to eventually take the place of the ones put here. It was time for me to make room I guess.

Looking back on the past few years, especially the college ones, I can find nothing that has struck me as truly fascinating work. I'd like to dabble in music in some form, despite my apparent inability to carry a tune. I want to go around taking photos for my own personal pleasure, but I feel that I do have an eye for visual media. Having no formal training, this would be a tough field for me to enter just yet. I am an English major, and yet I am afraid to write. It's a wonder I can even post anything, but that's probably because there is absolutely NO creative merit to any of them.

The idea of writing, be it scripting or poetry, story-lines or lyrics, scares me. When I used to write, in high-school, that's all I did almost every night before I went to sleep. I would be in bed, with my notebook and a book-light, squinting to see if I was still writing legibly. I could write forever. I once spent a good three hours writing in the dark like this. There was this feeling of accomplishment that came as soon as I finished a piece, but I would also later feel sick. Sick that I would write anything at all resembling what I saw on the paper, hating myself for expressing myself the way I did. It felt dark, it felt so wrong when I would revisit those lines scribbled in the night.

My mood changed as I wrote, and as the writing increased so was my mood affected. I would be glad to have finished writing, but I ultimately felt weak, scared, alone. When I wrote I felt as though the words were branded on my body, with the most hateful and dark of them upon my forehead. Each word weighed me down, but I could not stop. I was suffocating but I had to continue or else feel like I would explode. Either way, I felt like I was losing myself.

Thinking back on all that I have written, I feel sad, almost sorry for myself at that time. I feel that my writing did nothing but torture me, hold me hostage to feelings I did not want to have and force me to think in ways that scared me.

Eventually, the feelings started to dissipate. The urgent need to write started to die down. I really don't know what I can attribute this to, but it was a welcomed relief. It's almost as though I willed myself out of writing, forced myself to write only when absolutely necessary, such as writing an essay for school. This was most easily done during college, when I could really occupy myself between class and sleep.

When I think about sitting down and writing, I can't even come up with an idea of where to begin. I do miss how I used to be able to write endlessly, having new ideas all the time, but I do not miss the fact that my creativity was morbid, that it was destructive and bitter.

That was a fun tangent, wasn't it kids?

I guess I'm just doing all of this to fill a space that shouldn't have been left empty tonight. I'm sorry I don't talk more to you, and that when we do get together, I'm usually quiet. I still freeze up around you, even in the context in which we meet. It's like I'm still shy...-shrugs-

Okay. My mind has emptied itself enough for now. Hopefully Saturday will turn out more positively.

Harry Potter Strikes Again, But Misses

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Thu, 16 Jul 2009 14:31:11 PDT

This was the first of the Harry Potter films I cared to see in theater. I was disappointed.

The quidditch match, good. The special effects, just fine.

The plot...missing. The acting...what acting?

This was some weird kind of transition film, that to me, said "Here's all this random shit. Remember it for the next movie when it will make sense, maybe."

I was bored out of my fucking mind during the movie. Thank GOD ALMIGHTY Dumbledore is dead, because the man playing him was shit. The wizard should not have been such a bumbling, stuttering retard. I was the only person in the crowded theater to cheer when Snape did him in, because at that point in the movie, something finally fucking happened.

And just what in the hell is the Half-Blood Prince? It's Snape? That's good to fucking know. Now, I ask you...what the hell does that mean? He gave himself a fancy title in school to console himself during periods of loneliness and teenage angst? Whoop-dee-fucking-doo. I'm the King of Fanciful Chocolate Farts. Does that title mean anything? Fuck no. Does the Half-Blood Prince mean anything? Given what I've seen, fuck no.

Here's another review. I agree on the part about the kids. Not one fucking child in the theater said a SINGLE word or reacted in any way. Some of them were asleep.

If you hate holding on to money, go see the latest installment of the MOST FORGETTABLE movie of 2009.

-sighs-

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Sun, 28 Jun 2009 12:33:51 PDT

Billy Mays died today, also age 50. That makes four, and Walter Cronkite is not expected to live much longer.

What the fuck.

RIP

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Thu, 25 Jun 2009 17:32:07 PDT

RIP Michael Jackson. 6-25-09

Good Ole G.C.

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Wed, 17 Jun 2009 10:19:36 PDT

Heard back from my latest application.

"After reviewing an overwhelming number of applications, we have decided not to pursue your application further. Thank you for your interest."

Whoopee.

Updates on the Enterprise

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 09:13:34 PDT

Click the title to follow along with my new business.

It's not a business yet, but it will be, maybe. We'll see.

Hopefully.

-groans-

Huh...

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Wed, 10 Jun 2009 08:22:54 PDT

Here's a sick bit of irony...I think.

The TV station I was trying to apply to is now having major cutbacks in terms of employment numbers, and the HR manager who I went to see the other day about an internship is now fearing her own job is in danger. She's asking my dad for help finding an HR job, because he's a regional HR manager for Lowe's.

So much for being in the news. It seems my plans to start up my own business are probably going to have to be the way I go. This is a bit nerve-racking.

Well...we'll see.

meh

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Sun, 07 Jun 2009 01:12:36 PDT

Something's brewing. I don't know what, but I feel creativity may be just around the corner.

Who knows, could just be indigestion.

update

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Fri, 05 Jun 2009 07:58:52 PDT

today was a fucking waste of time and energy.

i want to go back to sleep.

i was going to an interview today with WBTW (a news station down here), and it was also a tour and explanation of what my internship would be.

it didn't last 10 minutes, and she gave me her card, saying they have all the interns they need until august, but to give her a call mid-july to let her know if i'm still interested.

fuck it. fuck it, fuck it, fuck it.

fuck you, fuck you, fuck you.

i knew with every fiber of my being that this would happen, and i'm still fucking pissed off.

fucking hate it here...

now if you'll excuse me, one of the dogs decided to throw up in the garage. fml

-shrugs-

SageHitek86@gmail.com (Mr. Narcissist) — Thu, 07 May 2009 19:29:29 PDT

I don't even know what to write here, but I feel like something should fill this space.

-shrugs-