I need another story
Something to get off my chest

I miss blogging. I don't really do it anymore - technically that's a good thing, 'cause I originally blogged when I was down, depressed, or my personal mix of faux-pression. I'm not down now... I'm just here. Centered, solid, quite well off. Decidedly average in every single way.

My life gets kinda boring
Need something that I can confess

I think I'm searching for something. My main "problem" I've always had is that I've been content. Despite living these 24.5 years, my life has pretty much just flowed together flawlessly. Sure, I had the occasional up from something exciting, relative to my life at the time - awards, recognition, achieving an extrinsic goal... and the occasional down, also relative to my life at the time - breakups, bad grades, death of grandparents. But while there very well may have been opportunities missed, I don't know about them. I'm content with my life. And on nights like this, bored & contemplative nights, I think about how bizarre that is.

'Til all my sleeves are stained red
From all the truth that I've said

My sleeves have never been stained, save that one church skit that involved red paint (I really didn't like that shirt anyway). I have no skeletons in my closet, no past to hide... my life has been a series of no surprises, nothing major to hide or reveal. I've just been been transparent with everything, to the point where people were unnervingly comfortable around me. 

Come by it honestly I swear
Thought you saw me wink, no
I've been on the brink, so...

I look normal - even with my recent additions of a beard & mustache I look annoyingly dull. I still fit into (and occasionally wear) clothes from high school - even my body is deludingly average in every way. I just don't understand how a person like me exists. I feel like an unmoved mover (although if you're versed in philosophy, that's giving me WAY too much credit) - I simply am. And on nights like these, when it comes to mind... It kinda ticks me off.

Tell me what you want to hear
Something that delight those ears
Sick of all the insincere
I'm gonna give all my secrets away

I've been recently introduced to the show Dexter. I've only seen 2 seasons thus far, but I don't think I'll be able to stop watching. Because if you remove the major plot element of the show - the protagonist being a sociopath who serially kills serial killers - Dexter's story is nearly identical to my own. Childhood I can't remember, Feeling a bit off from the bulk of society, and trying desperately to fit in when it looks so deceivingly easy to everyone around me. Heck, he even falls for a single mother with 2 children, a girl & boy, in that order, with a hellraising exhusband. Oh, did I mention its set in Florida? It's simply creepy to watch my life, as seen through the eyes of an alternate-universe, sociopathic version of myself.

This time, don't need another perfect lie
Don't care if critics ever jump in line
I'm gonna give all my secrets away

Unlike Dexter, I've never really had to lie, 'cause I've never had something worth lying for. But the main reason his life is different then mine - we seem to have intelligence about on the same level - is that he IS a murderous sociopath. What that boils down to, in my mind is an intrinsic motivation to do something. That's what I've always wanted. I'm not really in the position to do anything drastic with my life in the next year or two, but I've always lacked the gutteral urge to do something. I've been a dreamer lacking dreams, pretty much since day one. I have a habit of doing very well in anything I try my hand at, which doesn't help when you're trying to narrow down what you want to do with your life. I've been at my current job for less than 6 months, and my performance scores ranked me 24th out of the 580 employees. And this ISN'T a job a truly enjoy that much. That frustrates me beyond imagination.

Got no reason, got not shame
Got no family I can blame
Just don't let me disappear
I'm 'a tell you everything

I don't know - there is a chance that having free access to a pile of normally subscription-based on-demand content has gotten bizarre ideas in my head. I can't be mad at who I am - I really enjoy my life. My wife is gorgeous, my kids are angelic (as long as they're split up), my parents have been supportive of my every step, my jobs have been positive, my life has been really fantastic. Perhaps its my uncanny ability to see every side of a situation from different perspectives, so rash decisions never happen. 

I guess I'm afraid the only lives I'll touch are those of my children. I know that seems incredibly short-sighted from a 24 year old, but it's the only thing I got. I know I'll be a good Dad. I'm pretty sure I'm a good husband. I've been able to provide for my family on my salary alone for several months now, and when my son's giant dental bill hit (he had 8 cavities, poor thing) and a yet-to-be-assisted visit to the kid's bio-dad, I still had a credit limit so high that we're not hurting for anything. 

So, yeah.

Merry Christmas, tiny niche of the internet. I miss you.