Okay, I Get It - But In What Direction Do I Now Progress: Another Pathetic, Drunken Late Night Cathatric Attempt By Mountain (515 hits)
Category: Quotes & StoriesRating: 1.47 on 25 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Mountain (View user info) at 2006-10-19 03:56:22 EDT
As I sit here, relaxing in front of the TV with my nightly Jack and coke, my mind shut off from today's work and avoiding considering tomorrow's, it has dawned on me. I don't know why, I don't know how, but I've just got the mental equivalent of a kick in the sack.
None of this is guaranteed.
It never has been, it never will.
The handle of Jack is almost gone, the satellite signal is scheduled to be interrupted before the week is out, the water that made my ice and cleans me every morning is day to day at best (as long as I keep schmoozing the people in the billing department at the utility company) and my California king bed is once again way to big for my lonesome.
If you've followed my posts, you might remember that not long ago I closed a sale that paid a commission at nearly $30k before taxes. It probably wasn't more than a month ago, but then again, my days aren't measured in time; they're measured in dollar signs.
Since then, I've closed four additional sales. The properties were all priced less than half of the unit I sold at the Beauvallon (Denver), but long story short, more cash has passed through my hands than the average Denverite makes in a year.
So where'd it all go?
I'm not trying to make some worthless fucking segway... I'm as curious as you are.
Throughout my (year +) history here, any time I post something other than an attempt to get a laugh out of complete strangers through a series of cables and binary equations, it has been an effort to achieve some sort of cathartic release.
This is no different.
Let's take a look at my history.
I was born into an upper class family. I didn't know what a "road trip" was until my early teenage years because if my family headed anywhere more than an hour away by car, my Father flew us there, which was, ironically or not, the most time he's ever spent behind any sort of steering wheel. To be quite honest, he doesn't even have, nor need a driver's license.
Call it luck, call it spoiled, call me "Silver Spoon."
Fuck you. You don't know me.
And it's "Mr. GOLD Spoon" to you, you jealous fucking halfwit. My luck doesn't end there, so if you hate me now, stop reading. I don't think you can handle the course of my life. By the way, you should look into something called an inferiority complex. If you're not careful, it might become a debilitating condition.
For whatever reason, I have a natural ability for most things - academia, sports, charm, communication - you name the task, chances are I'm better than you at that exact undertaking.
I've played sports my entire life and there hasn't been a coach yet that won't flat out tell you I was their "favorite." I helped lead my high school football team to a state championship all four years in high school; the basketball team to three. I was named Team Captain in both sports starting in my sophomore year and carried the designation through graduation. I dated the head cheerleader for the same time span and yes, it was a different girl each year. Naturally, it didn't keep me from fucking the rest of them, in some cases their sisters and in one very special case, her mother. They considered it a privilege. The one thing I'm not blessed with is a nine (plus) inch cock, but my six and a half does just fine. Besides, I think the bitches out there agree that GIRTH is where it's at.
Fuck nine (plus) inch cocks, girthy six and a halfers get what they want 'cause they earned it.
Did I mention I played piano for every single school play starting in freshman year? Would you expect anything else? We had two pianos in our house; it's only natural that lessons starting at seven years old would yield SOMETHING.
College was a bigger joke than High School. You show me a scholarship-ed college football player and I'll show you a prick that doesn't have to spend an ounce of effort on academics as long as he is regularly seen in the gym and post game interviews.
I never made ESPN (I'm pretty sure). I don't think I'm on any tape other than those belonging to my coaches and family. I went to the only (insignificant) college that offered me a full ride. Did I mention growing up in a small town, no matter your parent's wealth, sucks like a queer straight out of Texas?
This is the time in my life I became accustomed to losing. It somehow became acceptable. My potential was wasted (by myself) because I was surrounded by people with low expectations. "What's that? 'Mountain' didn't have any tackles? That's okay. He took out their star running back with an after-the-play cheap shot, right? Fuck the 30 point loss, let's build him a statue!"
This was the beginning of the end.
Pain killers/ecstacy/meth/whatever the fuck you got replaced supplements, alcohol replaced depression, excuses replaced ambition. I lost the scholarship my junior year, spent the next three years trying to actually EARN my degree and be comfortable familiarizing myself with an existence sans notoriety.
I fooled everyone.
I "walked" after six years in college, but I didn't EARN a fucking thing. The only reason I was allowed to walk with the graduating class of 2003 is because I was registered for 9 credits of summer classes that I needed to graduate. Needless to say, not one day of my 2003 summer was spent in a classroom.
I was showered with lavish gifts, family and friends flew in from out of town for my graduation party and the pride I saw in my Father's eyes as I was handed an empty and never-to-be-filled leather B.A. holder was the result of an elaborate hoax.
My immediate post-collegiate years were full of health issues I'm convinced were spawned from guilt, ballooning weight as a side effect of medication to treat them and self-loathing at a capacity enough to kill Stuart Smalley.
My Father died ironically one year (to the date) after my college "graduation." Our very last conversation took place in an inhospitable, sterile white hospital room where I was forced to accept the mortality of the most significant contributor and believer in my life as he lay there with IVs in his veins and tubes in his nose. He was projected to live another month or two without the aid of life support and was refusing pain killers at the time. He welcomed every member of the family at one at a time throughout the last week of May 2004.
On May 27th, for whatever reason it was my turn; I was the last in line of our family. I took a seat at his bedside and greeted him with a handshake as I had countless times since the age of five, when hugs were no longer acceptable in his opinion between men. This time, he held my hand with a strength I had expected left him years ago and pulled me in close for a hug. He kissed my cheek, rested his tired, wrinkled left hand on my face and told me he was proud to be my Father for the first time in my life.
Over the next hour and half we laughed about our lives. Much to my surprise, he knew more about me than I could have ever guessed.
He recollected the day I was born. It was a Sunday and my Mother went into labor unexpectedly and I had to be delivered at home. He explained what it felt like to have the have the phone cradled between his shoulder and his ear as the hospital explained how I was to be delivered, while the paramedics were en-route to our home (I was born on the kitchen table because that was the most logical place to keep my Mother as comfortable as possible, given the lack of length provided by the telephone cord. Until the cordless phone age, our kitchen phone cord would extend to everywhere on the first floor).
As he explained that only seconds into my life I made him feel a vulnerability he hadn't ever experienced before or since, I found myself struggling to accept I hadn't ever been told this story. My birth certificate mentions nothing of an at-home birth.
He spoke of times in my childhood when "good enough" was unacceptable to me even as a toddler.
He remembered the night I unsuccessfully tried to sneak in the house after losing my virginity. He admitted to laughing uncontrollably after attempting to sternly discipline me for coming home after curfew and sending me off to bed. He simultaneously made me laugh and broke my heart when he lovingly tried to explain that that night was the one time in my life I wasn't worried about the repercussions of my actions. "That was the first time I looked in your eyes and didn't see fear."
He knew dates in my life that I thought existed only in my head: the first time I touched a football, the day I "secretly" borrowed his razor to shave for the first time and my first experimentation with cologne.
He reminisced about my first three pointer (basketball) and the exact date, opponent, location and point total the first time I realized I could be a team leader. Additionally, he knew the first time a girl broke my heart, my first school yard fight, my first experience outside the sheltered world of a wealthy childhood. He even detailed the first time I fell in love.
Then the bomb dropped: "I don't care you didn't graduate from college. You've always been like your old man. You can turn any nightmare situation into a celebration."
The morphine was flowing, it was getting late and his breaths were becoming more labored. Besides, I would return the next morning before he even woke up. I shook my Father's hand, told him I loved him (directly for the first time) and said I'd see him the next morning. As I gathered my belongings and headed for the door, he told me his will dictated that all liquid assets would be "donated to aid in the investigation of solutions for the disease that chained [him] to this bed." He seemed apologetic, but I wasn't concerned why.
Then it all made sense.
He didn't make it to the next morning. The doctors couldn't explain his sudden death - the only thing they could offer is that he died without pain; in his sleep. They apparently felt like that was a positive thing that would inevitably make his family feel better about his passing.
They obviously haven't lost a loved one without so much as a chance to tell them goodbye.
It's nearly impossible to find the "silver lining" in the death of a family member, much less a parent. But the death of my Father resonates with me to this day.
Over the last 18 months, I've used his death as a way to distance myself from reality and bury myself in my profession. I've become a functional alcoholic, tripled my pill intake and for what it's (not) worth, during this time I haven't fucked anyone that I was on the first name basis with.
It'd be a joke to blame my incapacities as a human being on the death of my Father and most likely a little too "WOE IS ME WHERE'S MY MTV?!?".
I'm responsible for the cause - and result - of my actions.
I've come to the realization that living past today is a gift.
I will no longer work to provide myself with material objects and mortal desires. Whether it be of the flesh, chemical or otherwise, my life is hereby devoted to making those of the people I love better. I won't make the mistake of clamming up; the people in my life that benefit from my existence will be well aware of it and hopefully pass that advantage to someone they love. Don't think for a second that the notion that this is an inebriated attempt at some sort of "Pay It Forward" bullshit HAS already been thought up by someone else with considerable more intelligence than yourself . You're as special as I am and you've got to come to the realization that there are BILLIONS of people on this planet that make you look about as useful as masturbation without inspiration.
I regret wasting my youth.
I regret neglecting truth in every form.
I regret failing to tell my Father his spirit will live on within me, my children, their children and the rest of our future family tree until it ceases to exist.
I regret not hugging my father goodbye on his unsuspected death bed.
I regret the negative effects of alcoholism, although I personally own the mistakes I continue to create within an empty bottle
I regret the mental capacity in which I've imprisoned myself.
I regret that the last time I felt mutual, romantic love I was a teenager.
I regret associating money with happiness AND success.
I regret writing this for it will always be available for future reference.
Similar to my Father's life, this will be ended short of its potential so I'm unable to arrive at the full realization of its significance.
What do you regret?
Admitting its existence in the first step towards accepting you're human, right?
User Reviews
Submitted by BrownEyedGirrl (user info) at 2006-11-29 11:28:19 EST (#)
Ranking: 2
thank you for writing this Mountain
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2006-10-27 14:56:54 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Napolean thinks this stinks.
Submitted by coley (user info) at 2006-10-19 21:06:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
oh, regrets...
Submitted by coley (user info) at 2006-10-19 21:05:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by Shlongy (user info) at 2006-10-19 17:46:35 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Thanks for that autobiography on how wonderful you are.
Now, I won't have to buy the book...which I assume you are writing in your spare time from churning out boring, uninteresting, fictional pieces of shit like this.
Submitted by i_can_get_you_a_toe (user info) at 2006-10-19 17:44:37 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
'In 3 words I can sum up everything I've learned about life; It goes on.'
- Robert Frost
Submitted by JonnyX (user info) at 2006-10-19 15:44:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
where'd the money go, dipshit - you never got around to telling us
Submitted by darko (user info) at 2006-10-19 12:37:53 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I regret only being third in our league, I should be in second at the moment.
Submitted by MyTeeOne (user info) at 2006-10-19 11:03:27 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Great writing. Personal, reflective, without being emu.
I regret skipping my 20's. I went right from 19 to married and didn't due the college thing properly. I feel behind now because of it. I don't currently own it. I used to be able to own things like this, but I'm a bit lost right now if you will. It's only a matter of time before I come back around (I hope).
Submitted by Axolotl (user info) at 2006-10-19 10:47:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
No Comment
Submitted by phuzzygish (user info) at 2006-10-19 10:42:32 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
*all we can do.
Submitted by phuzzygish (user info) at 2006-10-19 10:39:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Just keep on keepin' on dude. That's we can do.
Submitted by Cadrach (user info) at 2006-10-19 10:26:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Get over yourself you egocentric fuck.
Submitted by CaptainThorns (user info) at 2006-10-19 09:16:16 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
"Fuck nine (plus) inch cocks, girthy six and a halfers get what they want 'cause they earned it."
Damn straight.
Submitted by UnderOathMeal (user info) at 2006-10-19 08:31:30 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
THIS is why I come to Ubersite.
Glorious post, on ALL levels. There are enough parallels here to my own life that I could swap a few words out and this post would may as well have come from me.
Do refer to this at a later date, Mountain. Thoughtful mental vomitting like this makes for refreshing perspective later on, I've found.
~OathMeal Approved Post~
Submitted by sicosemen (user info) at 2006-10-19 08:10:28 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Trivial, reading is trivial.
Submitted by zoobie2000 (user info) at 2006-10-19 07:28:21 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
get over it and move on. no one cares about your depression.
Submitted by JoeyG (user info) at 2006-10-19 06:24:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
This was pretty cool
Submitted by Davros (user info) at 2006-10-19 06:09:22 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I liked it.
-Dave
Submitted by hour_man (user info) at 2006-10-19 05:44:56 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I read it.
Submitted by jack11058 (user info) at 2006-10-19 05:39:57 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
interesting fiction...
Submitted by COMountain (user info) at 2006-10-19 05:39:06 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Jesus mother loving toaster oven pickle eating monkey chick... I SPELLED MY OWN NAME WRONG.
As is life...
This too shall pass.
Right?
Fuck.
See you in Hell.
Submitted by c1ndy (user info) at 2006-10-19 05:18:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
I read it all. I think you should give all your money to me if you don't want it.
I regret working too hard and not taking time off to go travelling before I started a full time job straight after university. doh.
Submitted by Hookhand (user info) at 2006-10-19 04:48:43 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I don't know whether to hate you.
Submitted by Mike-Mc (user info) at 2006-10-19 04:17:09 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
You think mans go read all that shit? no fecking way maaaan here you go +2