Well, I'm late in posting this, as the contents of this entry happened.... two days ago, now? But, anyway...

We (my family, consisting of two aunts, my mother, and myself) went out to the Clear View nursery that's close to my house. We were there originally to pick up a new plant for my grandparents' grave. While there, however, I saw a few things that caught my own eye. So, whipping out my wallet and nabbing my checkbook (god, I know, I still write checks), I bought three things. I ended up walking out of there with a really pretty "Little Mischief" rose bush with a two-year guarantee, some lavender, and a type of agave called "Fatal Attraction." I think the agave is my favorite out of the three. It has nice, deep leaves with deep red hooks on them that really hurt when you grab them because they slice into your hands (No, I didn't do it. The woman there warned me from her own personal experience).

So, I'm having a wonderful time, waking up to see my agave sitting there, dangerous yet elegant. It's just such a unique plant.

Anyway, other than that, I have some begonias that are growing quite nicely. I'm eagerly waiting on their blooms, as well as my lilies. Though, it looks like one of them may be dying off.

Ummm, I think that's all, so... I'm off!

Alright. After having pretty much forgotten about Livejournal... Let's see if we can make a go of this again. Someone suggested I actually make use of this, so... I'm going to do my best. But, no promises. Savvy?

So. That being said, I'm home from a rather hectic day at work. It seems like all the annoying people came out today. :P Though, I think I did quite well, keeping my head on. Admittedly, I now have a headache, but... what can ya do? Food service isn't easy. Sat down with the waitress I bus for (she's... I think 55 years old), and we had a really odd talk about how we like hanging out because we can both have intelligent conversations with each other. That actually made me feel quite good, as I have a lot of respect for her.

So, that's hopefully a start. Let's see what life brings.

Well, I don't really have anything to write here. My life, currently, sucks. I'm not in college anymore, bills are piling up, I'm trying to find work only to have everyone reject my applications... I've been very depressed over my situation, and every step I take to change things seems to only be blown back in my face. I'm not sure what to do anymore. I think I might have clinical depression, considering I haven't even wanted to go online or talk to my friends or read or play video games or do anything anymore.

Though, given the comments (or rather, lack-there-of) on my previous journals, I'm starting to debate if keeping this thing is even worth it. I never have anything interesting in my life, and I'm not exactly a pinnacle of wisdom and witty observations about the world. I can't write lengthy posts like the rest of Livejournal, mostly because I have nothing to say regarding jack shit about the world, and when I do have something to say, I can't drone on and on about it.

Anyway, that's it. I'll see nobody later, because nobody's going to read this.

They said it couldn't be done! They said I was crazy! (And I am.) I went in to my hair stylist (Amy, god of hair), and we began work on the pain-staking process of transforming my hair. A three and a half hour series of bleachings, tonings, and highlights have taken my hair and created this masterpiece of winter!



Please ignore the cut on my arm. No, I didn't slit my wrist. No, I'm not emo. I'm just a guy with attitude! :-P

Well, the day has come and gone... And what's the verdict?

...I have never had a worse birthday in my life.

I'm woken up with a phone call from my mother to come out and help do yard work. So, I drag myself from bed and head outside. Once out, I'm put right to work pulling up those thorny raspberry bushes by hand. Sometime during the pain of pulling them up, the phone goes off and it's my dad (parents having been divorced for a long time). I pick it up, and my dad, the man I can't stand because of how he used to yell at my mother and throw things at her... the man I've wanted to kill for the past 19 years of my life... HE was the first blood person outside of my online gaggle of friends and family to wish me a Happy Birthday. So, as a little retribution for essentially ignoring the fact that it was my birthday, I comment to him "Thanks, Dad. You're the first one to wish me a Happy Birthday!" All that happened was my mom just said "Oh, well happy birthday..." very blandly and boringly.

The day didn't get any better. As I hadn't eaten yet, I was starving by now. When I asked when we were going to have lunch (and where we were going, of course) mom just replies "Oh, we'll be out here a few more hours, then we're just going to have whatever's in the fridge." When I commented "Damn, I'm starving!" her co-worker, Beth, then retorted with "well, that's your own damn fault for not getting something to eat!" Ex-CUSE me? I was woken up and dragged out there without getting a fuckin' bite to eat and it's MY fault?

So, when mom left to take the weeds to the yard waste, I went inside to get something to snack on. Beth followed me. We began to talk about birthdays and I just mused as to where I hoped we'd be going for my birthday dinner. Beth looked at me, and the first things out of her mouth were. "You're 19 now, Clint. You're not a kid anymore." And I didn't know what to say. It took me a moment, but I eventually retorted with "Mom's going to be spending her birthday in Disney World, and she can't even do anything to make my birthday the least bit special?" She didn't have an answer.

We spent the rest of the night eating leftovers and watching movies so that Beth, mom's co-worker, could understand references when my family goes to Disney World, taking Beth with them and NOT ME! Yeah, the rest of my birthday was spent educating Beth about Disney instead of celebrating the day that I came into this world.

So at the end of the day, my birthday has come and gone. No presents, no birthday cards, no warm wishes. This birthday has just been another day on the calendar. Another day older that just happened to click a full year. Nothing special about it.

It's funny. I've received more "Happy Birthdays" from people I know only online than I have from people I've lived my entire life with. Life sure is funny sometimes...

If you need me, I'll be crying on my bed.

Well, once again, I'm not feeling well. My entire body is sore, I've been through a fever, cold chills, coughing, stuffed nose, topped off with a massive headache. I wonder how long this one will last. And sorry to those who've posted journals and I've not replied. I need to find more to say in response.

This isn't going to be long. It's just a random thought. Steroids are supposed to make you enter a state called "roid rage." Okay, not really a state, but people are subjected to this "condition" we'll call it. During this, individuals have an increased temper and begin to throw things around and trash the place, beat on people, run their mouth, etc.. Well, after today, I've decided that I could never take steroids. Today, I had a temper that sounded strangely similar to those who suffer from "roid rage." If this is how I am without taking steroids, one can only imagine what would happen to my temper if I did take steroids!

It's... scary to think about, to say the least.

After that long title, there is going to be relatively little for this entry. After talking with one of my friends and finding out that the best way he grows to be friends with someone is through blogs and sharing lives with each other, I decided to give it a try. Needless to say, I am not a blogger. I can't make these long, detailed entries that span the length of the page (which could be a good thing), nor can I inject humor to the point where you are reduced to falling off your chair, laughing your ass off. I don't write novels about politics, nor do I write the next great American novel. What little you see is what you get. I am me, this is all that there is. My dreams, my hopes, my cares. My sadness, my tears, my depression. Don't like? Don't read.