Wherein you should probably stop reading right now.

I feel like I have 1000 secrets that all might burst out of me at once. But really I have none. Nothing is a secret, just private.

I just woke up, at 4am, and stared at the ceiling for about an hour. I have two days of conversations with CJ running through my head. Tonight, at midnight (that's right, four hours of sleep), when I got back to my little couch oasis, I was a bit perturbed and it is just late (or is it early?) enough and I had just enough glasses of wine (two point five) to get up in the middle of the night to post a junky rant on my junky blog.

And it is not even a rant. There are two things I do when I am stressed, 1. Make everything into a list and 2. Turn every sentence into a song lyric.

So here goes.

1. This is my least favorite time of year. We are past fall. Fall is September, October, the first part of November before Thanksgiving. We are no longer in the fall.
2. I am tired of being a hobo.
3. I am not a control freak.
4. I miss my mom and I miss RF and I am tired of missing people.
5. I'm not ready to make nice.


And that is all I got. Mostly because I'm pretty sure there is someone staring at me through this window. Or maybe that is just my reflection. I can't really tell.

After work tonight, as I was walking to the bus stop in the dark, I was trying to imagine the number of home robberies that occur when the intruder knows the family is most likely home. Then I mentally removed the incidents of which the intruder is on some sort of drugs or alcohol. Then I mentally removed the incidents of which the intruder is probably a fucking nut job.

Then I decided I was probably pretty safe living alone.

Or that I could always get an attack cat. If I could get a fatty like Buttons, I would do it tomorrow. But cats, like men, are deceiving. You might think they are fat and cuddly but then they tear your face off.

Le sigh.

Dark and twisty. I'm going back to bed. This blog proves two things: 1) never blog in the middle of the night when you feel sad and can't sleep, and 2) I take the morning train / I work from 10 to 7 and then / I take another home to find Snuggie waiting for me.

I hate the days I leave the house unsure of whether I put on deodorant.

I'm pretty sure I did, somewhere between brushing my teeth and spraying on some perfume, but there is a bit of doubt in the back of my mind.

Kind of the same as did I lock the door? did I turn off the stove? did I turn off the hot iron?

Except not putting on deodorant will not get me robbed or burn the house down.

I'm pretty sure I did put on deodorant and this weird little lady I sat next to on the bus DID NOT which lead to my self-doubt. I mean, I am pretty hobo so I wouldn't put it past me, but I should really consider my environment.

A man just turned around and stared at me and I stared back for at least a minute until he looked away in defeat. Then he looked again and nodded. We either just made non-verbal plans to go on a date or he noticed that my clothes don't match.

I should really just rename this blog "Things That Happen To Me On The Bus."

I am having a serious good music drought. I feel like I have no time to listen to new music and all the old stuff is boring me.

This is indicative of a greater problem in my life in which I feel like all I do is go to work and go home. This is clearly not true, but I am feeling stressed out so all the islands of fun in between work are distant memories seconds after they end.

The exception is this week as RF is here, but last night I was pretty much the most boring person ever while hanging out with GZ. I have nothing to say.

I need 12 hours of sleep in a row. Not spread out over three days.

I cannot wait for camping. It is my oasis. If I can just make it to September 17th, I will survive.

Wherein Bry does not operate on Hoeg time.

Hoegs take pride in being Hoegs much like a nation takes pride in its identity. Correction, Hoeg men take pride in being Hoegs to the point of a World Cup soccer riot. Hoeg women say "Eh" and shrug their shoulders.

Part of being a Hoeg is a phenomenon called "Hoeg Time" which should not be confused with Stoner Time, but is pretty much the same thing.

I do not operate on Hoeg time. In fact, Hoeg Time causes my blood to boil.

Here is a prime example of Hoeg Time.

JH texted me early on a Saturday morning to see if I wanted to float the river. MaH would hurry over and pick me up. We would get gas and pick up TH and TH's boat before getting back to meet everyone and then go float.

MaH picked me up. We get gas and buy three more tubes as we have also forced my cousins CH, PH, and RH to accompany us on this journey. We see TH at the Three Mile Store and say, Hey! we were coming to get you. He goes home and when we arrive 20 minutes later, he is out in the yard shooting the breeze with the neighbor. Then he helps his neighbor move some sprinklers. Then he pours himself a cocktail (this is what he calls the Pepsi he drinks constantly). Then he sits down and smokes. Then he spends about 10 minutes trying to decide what to bring to float (here is a hint: shorts, river shoes, maybe a hat, and get in the damn truck).

By this time, MaH (who is a new member of the family and also not on Hoeg Time) and I are exchanging What the Hell? glances.

We manage to make it out of there in just under an hour, a minor miracle.

Then we get back to JH and MaH's and discover the children messing around in the yard in dresses and not at all ready. The tubes are flat and no one is ready to go. MaH was gone for two hours and nothing got done. Then we stand around while they all smoke and drink soda.

Finally, I start being Bry the Bossy Dictator and make everyone get their shit together and we manage to leave the house almost 2 hours later.

In real person time, one might want to be on the river before 3pm so that one is not still floating the river 4 hours later when the weather is much cooler. When its not approaching dusk, and when you don't have to wait by the side of the road while someone drives back to the float start point to get the cars.

A person can accomplish a goal like this by managing their time, hurrying, and being productive.

I would like to say this is an isolated incident, but this is pretty normal for my family.

I do not like this Sam I Am. I do not like Green Eggs and Ham.

I try to be on time and when I know I can't predict my schedule, or the bus, I either make arrangements for that and/or explain this to others who may be affected.

"I get off at 7 and will meet you at 8. There is a chance I could be a few minutes late."

I've developed the ability to be ready for all kinds of environments and activities within minutes. I'm fairly flexible and do like to be spontaneous, but when there is a goal in mind, I like to "Get shit done."

I am very independent. I don't depend on anyone and have no defendants that I need to consider. There is no "Let me tell so and so the plan." I am so and so.

I like decisions.

I like plan and action.

I like completing tasks.

I like structure.

I like getting shit done.

This seems to be in direct conflict with "being a Hoeg."

I like being a Hoeg.

Go figure.

Wherein Bry feels like a kid again and not in a good way.

I'm feeling a strange sensation of being hungover. Or maybe the crash following a sugar high.

This is perhaps the low in the summer. I will go on vacation and return feeling happy and relaxed, but first I must weather a small storm.

It is unbelievable how different I feel this week in comparison to last.

Suddenly I am paranoid of everything I say and do.

I'm walking on eggshells, but I never cracked the egg.

When I was in second grade, we spent the final week cleaning the classroom. We dusted, mopped and sanitized. In retrospect, this is a little too children-in-a-sweatshop for my taste.

One of our final tasks was to empty our desks and then wipe down our desks and chairs with soapy water and a rag.

The entire year, I had the good desk. It was old, made of wood and had an extra big storage space. The chair was attached to the desk and it was so big it had to be in the corner of our U-shaped layout, a prime spot for a loudmouth like me. All of the other desks and chairs were plastic and aluminum.

The teacher took all of the chairs and put them in the center of the room. Each kid then washed their chair and desk. I couldn't take my chair or desk to the center of the room because they were so big . So while everyone else cleaned, I had to sit at my desk and watch.

As I sat there alone and with no task, as everyone else was mucking about and chattering, I became increasingly glum and just plain sad as I wondered why I couldn't clean, too. Then I started crying.

"Why are you crying?" asked the teacher.

"Why am I left out?"

"Well for goodness sakes, your desk is old and made of wood. It can't get wet."

This made sense and I stopped crying, though I burned with shame and embarrassment. I still felt left out, but it was with good reason. For days after that, until the final day, I was angry with my teacher.

I had the best desk all year long and felt so special until the very end, when what set me apart also put me on the fringe.

I've been feeling similarly over the past few weeks, but I can't decide which specific part. Is it the feeling of being unique dashed by dreams of normalcy? Am I feeling left out? Or do I feel like a lack of communication has led me to feel slightly shameful and resentful.

Suddenly I have all these great things in my life but what I really want is what everyone else has. And the everything is just out of my reach.