I'm Stray, or Jeff if you want to get familiar. I'm an artist, music maker, aspiring writer, goofball, geek, nerd, and dork. I design graphics for t-shirts for money.

This blog is mainly for my own artwork. I also make daily confessions and daily music posts.

Art posted in my blog is mine unless otherwise noted.

Other places you can find me on the internet:

facebook
deviantart
designbyhumans

Daily Confession:

This one time, I was waiting for a bus in Downtown LA, super late at night. Being Downtown late at night always makes me feel like I’m in a zombie movie. It’s dark, the streets are empty except for newspaper blowing down the street, huge rats and cockroaches running along corners of buildings, the pungent smell of bum urine, and there’s NOBODY around… except for the occasional bum… which you can easily mistake for a zombie.

Anyway, it’s late, it’s cold, I’m tired, I’ve been waiting for the bus for forever, there’s nobody around but me. Then out of nowhere a big black SUV comes slowly rolling down the street and it stops in front of my bus stop. The tinted window comes down. A man peers out at me. Oh, this dude must need directions or something I think.

"Need a ride?" he says.

Oh. He wants to offer me a ride. That’s… weird. “Oh no I’m good. Thanks.”

"You sure?"

"Mmhm." Of course I’d LOVE a ride. This bus takes forever, I’m cold and sleepy, and when the bus finally DOES come it’s going to be over an hour sitting on it. So yeah, I’d love a ride, but no, I’m not getting into an SUV with a random stranger in the middle of the night.

"Where you headed?"

Home." but my tone was more like "Dude, salutations already. Boo. Scat. Leave. Vanish."

"Where do you live?" Now I’m starting to get a bit nervous

"Far." I say.

"You sure you don’t need a ride? It’s no problem, I don’t mind."

"Yeah."

"Yeah?"

"I’m sure I don’t need a ride, but thanks."

"…."

"…." In my pocket I’m uncapping my pen just in case I have to stab a bitch.

"It’s really no bother, I could take you halfway. You sure?"

"I’m just gonna wait for the bus."

At this point, you’d expect him to go “Well alright.” or some such, roll up his window, and go about his way. But no, he just stares at me for a few seconds that feel like an eternity. Staring. Uncomfortable, I look away. He’s still staring, I can see him out of my periphery. Staring. I’m guessing, either trying to think of a compelling argument to get me into his vehicle, or trying to calculate if he’d be able to get out of his vehicle and catch me and restrain me or knock me out and drag me back to his vehicle and toss me in the back and have his way with me. If he was thinking either of these things he eventually concluded correctly that there was nothing he was going to say to get me in his vehicle, and there was no way he’d be able to catch me as I am a very slender light man who would already have a good head start.

I can’t say for sure that this man wanted to sexually assault me. Maybe he was just a nice guy who saw a person out in the cold alone late at night and wanted to be a good Samaritan. All I know, is that the way he was looking at me creeped me the fuck out and as a man for the first time in my life I felt sexually vulnerable. I really can’t imagine what it must be like to live life as a woman and feel that way fairly often.

BONUS:

Another time I was walking in Downtown LA at an odd hour, and some man in a car rolled up alongside me and flashed a wad of money and asked “How much?” HOW MUCH WHAT MOTHERFUCKER??? DO YOU NEED ME TO COUNT YOUR MONEY FOR YOU OR WHAT??? I didn’t say that, but I wanted to. What the hell am I doing to give off male prostitute vibes? I know I’m not a super butch manly man, but I feel like I more or less don’t look like a gay prostitute right off the bat. T-shirt, jeans, hoodie, backpack. This isn’t gay prostitute attire is it? I admittedly don’t know much about gay prostitutes, please, some clue me in if I’m giving off any obvious gay prostitute signals.

Another time, in broad daylight, a weird older man drove by and made a kissy face at me. I didn’t even know how to react to that shit. I immediately looked down at myself to make sure I didn’t accidentally put on a dress before I left the house or something.

These are just a few examples of me being hit on or propositioned by creepy dudes. Being hit on by another man does not bother me, if it was a normal guy I’d be flattered and respectfully decline. But these dudes have just been sleazy weirdos. Why am I a magnet for sleazy older creepy potential sex offenders?

The curse of being beautiful :(

Hello tumblr! I still exist! (and so do aliens)

I’m sure for the past couple of days you’ve been bawling your eyes out sick with grief and worry, “Where is Stray? I didn’t realize how much he meant to my tumblr dashboard until he was gone! My life has been torn asunder!” Well friends, first of all, yeesh… pull yourself together, there’s no need for the histrionics. Second of all, I commend you for your use of the phrase “torn asunder”, people don’t say that enough, well played.

Long story short tumblr, I was abducted by aliens. That’s where I’ve been the past few days. On a spaceship, being studied by aliens.

I know I know… crazy. Totally true though, I was laying in bed, trying to get some sleep and visitors from another planet came and abducted me. I know, rude right? If there are any aliens reading this blog, look aliens, I don’t know how you do things on your planet, but here on earth it’s considered VERY poor manners to show up to someone’s home unannounced and take them somewhere without their consent. Super rude. In fact, we have human laws against that sorta thing. So, just know that it’s not cool to us. I recommend you revamp your whole abduction thing, it’s totally uncalled for, I’m certain there are plenty people whom if you simply asked would be TOTALLY into joining you in space for a few days provided you gave them a heads up so they could clear their calendar and make sure they were fully clothed when you showed up. You whisked me away in the middle of the night, while I was in bed in my t-shirt and boxers because that’s what I sleep in. FYI it’s not a human custom to be outside of our homes for several days, or like… any amount of time at all, in nothing but a t-shirt and boxers. I know you can’t grasp this because you’re race has either never worn clothes or has transcended them and you live your lives naked, but we humans for the most part prefer having clothes on the majority of our day. This is just some food for thought aliens, in case you’re reading, and in case you care at all about not being dicks. Your process could be a lot more human-friendly.

Anyway, back to you, tumblr. I obviously couldn’t update my tumblr while I was aboard the alien spacecraft, so sorry for the momentary dearth of posts. Alien abductions, what can ya do? Now that I’ve told you about my alien encounter I feel I need to address the elephant in the room. You hear “alien abduction” and I know you’re all wondering the same thing… “Jeff, did these aliens probe your butthole, perchance?” NO! They did NOT. OKAY? No matter how much I begged, they wouldn’t do it. Oh well. What did the aliens do to me? Well, it was more like market research, I was asked to try different things and give them feedback, I can’t really talk about it though.

So… uh, I’m back! Get ready have your buttholes torn asunder by relentless tumblring! Your figurative buttholes that is! Before you ask, no, I don’t know what a figurative butthole is, it just sounded like the right thing to say, and I apologize if I’ve offended you by referring to my own butthole, your butthole, and just saying the word butthole too many times. I realize I have a problem. I’ve typed too many words and should just shut up now.

 

Daily Confession

Mortal Kombat: The Movie

It’s one of my all-time favorite movies. It’s one of those movies I loved when I was a kid, and I can still rewatch today and enjoy. I’ve seen it a gajillion times, and without fail I can’t help but yell “MORTAL KOMBAAAAAT!” along with it. How awesome was Christopher Motherfucking Highlander Lambert as Raiden? All the way awesome, that’s how awesome. Linden Ashby as Luke Cage was also especially cool to me, how did he not become an action star? Maybe not having a weird accent (Damme, Stallone, Schwarzenegger) hindered his career. I don’t know.

If you dislike this movie please just keep it to yourself, it’ll do nothing but put a strain on our internet friendship.

Anyway, even though I love this movie, there’s one scene that ALWAYS drives me crazy.

It’s the first day at Shang Tsung’s mysterious remote island, and a huge feast has been prepared for all the fighters.

People are enjoying the food, wondering what the hell is up with this crazy island and this crazy tournament.

Subzero and a bunch of oily shirtless dudes start filing into the room.

From the other side comes Scorpion and more oily shirtless dudes.

Shang Tsung steps out. “Sup everybody? Enjoying the food? You ready to get this shirt started or what?!” Okay, he doesn’t say that, just some blah blah about the tournament. Then he’s like “Wanna see some cool shit? Check this out!”

Shirtless oily dudes just start shoving everybody around and knocking shit over! Rude!

They flip over all the tables just letting the food spill all over the floor!

This is all to make way for a martial arts demonstration where some poor shirtless oily guy gets frozen by Subzero and shattered into eleventeen pieces. Very cool, but…

did they really need to throw all the food on the floor?!?! How wasteful! The sole purpose of this island is to host a fighting tournament, they could’ve moved the demonstration to another venue, or at least scheduled for AFTER the feast.

All I can think about is that food had to come from somewhere. Mortal Kombat island has a chef, more likely a whole team of cooks to prepare all that food. If I’ve learned anything from Top Chef is that there’s a lot of hard work and stress that goes into preparing a big meal for a bunch of people like this. That head chef probably put his blood, sweat and tears into this meal. It was probably meticulously planned and executed, and it’s not like this tournament happens every day. This is a super rare event. He’s probably back in the kitchen crossing his fingers hoping the dinner is a success. THEN IT ALL GETS THROWN ON THE FLOOR!

You know off screen there’s a cook going “What the FUCK?” then he throws off his chef hat and says “I’m fucking DONE! I quit! I want off this dumb island!” and storms off. Then later he cries to himself. Of course he doesn’t actually bring it up later to his boss Shang Tsung, because he knows Shang Tsung will just snap his neck and devour his soul. So he just bottles up that resentment and frustration and swallows it. Poor Mortal Kombat chef.

While we’re at it, in the Subzero scene I mentioned before…

^Frozen dude bits.

Dick move Subzero, I’m not impressed. One guy with ice powers freezing a guy who has zero powers is not a fight. Who knows, maybe in a fair fight that guy could’ve kicked your ass. I mean… look at how ripped he is…

Dude is SWOLE! Did he KNOW that Subzero could freeze people? If he did, then doing a flying jump kick at a guy with ice powers was a really dumb move. I take it back, he deserved to die, what a moron.

I could screencap and talk about Mortal Kombat til the cows come home, but then I’d just be like “Whoa… where did these cows come from?” So, I’m just going to wrap this up. Sorry all your food got thrown on the floor Mortal Kombat chef, that sucks. Subzero, c’mon man try to fight fair, don’t be a dick. Incredibly ripped muscley oily shirtless guy, c’mon man, don’t do jump kicks at supernaturally powered ninjas, you’re dead now idiot.

MORTAL KOMBAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAT!!! *techno music*

This one time, a few years ago, this friend of mine wanted to commission me to do some drawings for this like feminism thingy being held on her campus. I guess it was supposed to be like a fun thing celebrating women, and there’d be art, and music, and other stuff I guess, I don’t know. What she wanted me to draw, were big close-ups of vaginas. Yeah.
[[MORE]]
I was like sure, not thinking much about it. I mean, seemed easy enough… google image some vaginas and then draw them on some big papers. I was young and eager to have my art be shown anywhere, I was/am also down with feminism. Plus, ya know, there were BOUND to be a lot of female humans there, and if I was showing art I’d perchance be a person of interest for them.
Then when I really started to think about it I began to wonder why the hell I ever agreed to do this. Chief among my trepidations… I am a man. Would it not seem a tad skeazy, if I, a man, were at this celebration de la femme with a buncha big ol’ vagina drawings? “Hey ladies, I’m Jeff, proud penis owner, an I heard you were celebratin ya womanliness, so I thought I’d come on over and show off a buncha big ooooool’ vajay jayyys! Cause thats whats wimmenz is to me. I’ve paid artistic tribute to you by reducing you to your reproductive organs. Nice right?” That’s kinda how I was imagining me coming off to them. And I wouldn’t have blamed them.
This thing wasn’t even my idea, a girl had asked me to do this, she thought it would be interesting, but didn’t have artistic skill, and I guess she didn’t know any female artists and asked me to do it? It was her creative vision though, what was being expressed by a series of large vagina close-ups was all in her head, not mine. Even if these women didn’t immediately think I was an asshat, they quickly would if they started asking me questions about the pieces. I wouldn’t even know how to fake it, I’m not a person who really comes up with a lot of deep meaning to the things he creates, you’ve seen the work I do, it’s cartoon animals and miscellaneous fan art, I’m not very big on conveying nuanced messages. I’d probably sound really stupid trying to concoct some disengenous spiel about vaginas and empowerment or whatever, because I don’t have one of those things, so I really can’t speak from a legitimate authentic authoritative place about it. I can only speak of them as an obeserver/admirer, which would probably sound way creepy. What could I say besides “Uh, well this girl told me to.”
To be honest with you… I don’t really find anyone’s sex organs to be aesthetically appealing. Don’t get me wrong, I’m a fan of vaginas, they’re uh… ya know… fun, to say the least. But I wouldn’t necessarily say I care to just stare at them. Some people find them beautiful, or arousing, and that’s totally okay, fine, normal, healthy, and etc, I just personally think everyone’s junk, female or male, looks kinda silly and weird. But then again, some times I have the detachment of someone not from this planet and every other thing about humans seems bizarre to me.
Long story short, the next time I talked to her I asked her if I could do something different, something more “on the nose” so to speak, like different portraits of important historical women or something. She informed me that the whole thing had fell through and had been put off indefinitely until… I don’t know, what ever needed to change, changed.
So, that’s the story of how I almost drew a bunch of big ol’ vaginas for a feminism event.
END OF BLOG POST!

This one time, a few years ago, this friend of mine wanted to commission me to do some drawings for this like feminism thingy being held on her campus. I guess it was supposed to be like a fun thing celebrating women, and there’d be art, and music, and other stuff I guess, I don’t know. What she wanted me to draw, were big close-ups of vaginas. Yeah.

Read More

I’ve seen homeless dude’s dicks one too many times (the first time was one too many times really).
How funny would it be if I just left this post at that and didn’t explain at all? That would be a very weird thing to not add any context to. I’m going to add the context though. I’ve specifically seen homeless dudes whip their penises out and pee, and each time they made direct eye contact with me stealing a little bit of my soul in the process.
First time, I’m in the lovely city of Pomona, getting off the bus at night after a long day of work at the tutoring center I was employed at during the time. As soon as I step off the bus I see a homeless man in the middle of the transit center peeing in one of these potted trees that were there. He looks right at me, heavy lidded, mouth slightly open, clearly super drunk, and just stares at me vacantly. It was the first time I’d ever been looked in the eye by a man who had his penis in his hand, and I did not care for it one bit, no sir. I couldn’t get that homeless man’s weird gaze out my mind. BLLLAARRRRGHH! Oh God why am I writing this post and reminding myself of these moments???
Unfortunately, that was not the last time I would lock eyes with a urinating homeless man. Incident number 2, I was walking through the parking lot of my local Ralph’s, on my way to pick up some ingredients for tacos, because my baby brother loves my tacos, and why wouldn’t he, my tacos are the shit, I would much rather talk about my bomb ass tacos or tacos in general than homeless men peeing, but oh well I finish what I start. I see this homeless man that’s always in my neighborhood, he is the smelliest of homeless men, his stench if infamous in our community. I’ve been on buses this homeless man has gotten on and I can only describe his odor as a cocktail of extreme body odor, feces, and death. Yes death. Like have you ever smelled a dead thing? When I was a young teen a possum had somehow gotten into our vents and died, and when we’d turn on the air in the den the smell of possum carcass would waft through the room. The family computer was in the den, and internet porn had sorta just become a thing, so I remember enduring that smell a bunch of times so I could look at naked ladies until I couldn’t take it anymore. This bum reminded me of that smell, that dead animal smell, somewhere under layers of dirty clothes that guy definitely had a dead body part. I’m going off on a tangent. I see this smelly bum in the middle of the parking lot, and he just whips his penis out and starts peeing, just like right in the middle of the parking lot in front of Ralph’s like that’s just as good as any place to do it. Not in a corner or behind a car but just right in the open, and he turns and looks at me because I was walking in his direction, and I just stop and look around like “Am I the only one seeing this right now???” And yeah, I was. Look homeless man, I know establishments usually aren’t willing to let you into their restrooms because you smell like a zombie, but the middle of the Ralph’s parking lot is NOT the place to do it. Maybe try around back or by the dumpster, but not 12 feet away from the entrance. Gross. Gross gross gross.
THIRD TIME! I’m walking through yet another parking lot, of a Burger King, and in front of the Burger King is a island with grass on it. Laying on that island is a homeless man, paper bag in hand, looking dead to the world. This homeless man rolls over on his side, whips his uncircumcised dirty penis out, and without even holding it he just starts peeing. He just lets it lay there on the concrete edge of the grassy island and leak onto the parking lot. Of course he sees me while he’s doing this and just stars at me blankly, because apparently drunk homeless dudes love to make eye contact with me specifically, when they’re pissing in places they’re not supposed to.
Here’s hoping there’s never a 4 time to talk about. I didn’t enjoy writing this :(
- Stray (facebook / twitter / deviantart/ shop)

I’ve seen homeless dude’s dicks one too many times (the first time was one too many times really).

How funny would it be if I just left this post at that and didn’t explain at all? That would be a very weird thing to not add any context to. I’m going to add the context though. I’ve specifically seen homeless dudes whip their penises out and pee, and each time they made direct eye contact with me stealing a little bit of my soul in the process.

First time, I’m in the lovely city of Pomona, getting off the bus at night after a long day of work at the tutoring center I was employed at during the time. As soon as I step off the bus I see a homeless man in the middle of the transit center peeing in one of these potted trees that were there. He looks right at me, heavy lidded, mouth slightly open, clearly super drunk, and just stares at me vacantly. It was the first time I’d ever been looked in the eye by a man who had his penis in his hand, and I did not care for it one bit, no sir. I couldn’t get that homeless man’s weird gaze out my mind. BLLLAARRRRGHH! Oh God why am I writing this post and reminding myself of these moments???

Unfortunately, that was not the last time I would lock eyes with a urinating homeless man. Incident number 2, I was walking through the parking lot of my local Ralph’s, on my way to pick up some ingredients for tacos, because my baby brother loves my tacos, and why wouldn’t he, my tacos are the shit, I would much rather talk about my bomb ass tacos or tacos in general than homeless men peeing, but oh well I finish what I start. I see this homeless man that’s always in my neighborhood, he is the smelliest of homeless men, his stench if infamous in our community. I’ve been on buses this homeless man has gotten on and I can only describe his odor as a cocktail of extreme body odor, feces, and death. Yes death. Like have you ever smelled a dead thing? When I was a young teen a possum had somehow gotten into our vents and died, and when we’d turn on the air in the den the smell of possum carcass would waft through the room. The family computer was in the den, and internet porn had sorta just become a thing, so I remember enduring that smell a bunch of times so I could look at naked ladies until I couldn’t take it anymore. This bum reminded me of that smell, that dead animal smell, somewhere under layers of dirty clothes that guy definitely had a dead body part. I’m going off on a tangent. I see this smelly bum in the middle of the parking lot, and he just whips his penis out and starts peeing, just like right in the middle of the parking lot in front of Ralph’s like that’s just as good as any place to do it. Not in a corner or behind a car but just right in the open, and he turns and looks at me because I was walking in his direction, and I just stop and look around like “Am I the only one seeing this right now???” And yeah, I was. Look homeless man, I know establishments usually aren’t willing to let you into their restrooms because you smell like a zombie, but the middle of the Ralph’s parking lot is NOT the place to do it. Maybe try around back or by the dumpster, but not 12 feet away from the entrance. Gross. Gross gross gross.

THIRD TIME! I’m walking through yet another parking lot, of a Burger King, and in front of the Burger King is a island with grass on it. Laying on that island is a homeless man, paper bag in hand, looking dead to the world. This homeless man rolls over on his side, whips his uncircumcised dirty penis out, and without even holding it he just starts peeing. He just lets it lay there on the concrete edge of the grassy island and leak onto the parking lot. Of course he sees me while he’s doing this and just stars at me blankly, because apparently drunk homeless dudes love to make eye contact with me specifically, when they’re pissing in places they’re not supposed to.

Here’s hoping there’s never a 4 time to talk about. I didn’t enjoy writing this :(

- Stray (facebook / twitter / deviantart/ shop)

If you think the coincidences between Lincoln and JFK are crazy, wait til you get a load of the mind boggling coincidences between Paul F Tompkins and Jeff Goldblum!

Paul F Tompkin’s full name is Paul Francis Tompkins
Jeff Goldblum’s full name is Jeffrey Lynn Goldblum
Paul Francis = 11 letters
Jeffrey Lynn = 11 letters
Tompkins = 8 letters
Goldblum = 8 letters
Paul Francis Tompkins = 19 letters
Jeffrey Lynn Goldblum = 19 letters

Both men were born in Pennsylvania

Both men were born in the fall

Both men’s fathers were doctors.

Paul F Tompkins started performing comedy at the age of 17
Jeff Goldblum moved to New York to pursue acting at the age of 17

Paul F Tompkins has 2 degrees of separation with Kevin Bacon
Jeff Goldblum has 2 degrees of separation with Kevin Bacon
http://oracleofbacon.org/

Paul F Tompkins has gone on record as loving all Wes Anderson films
Jeff Goldblum has appeared in a Wes Anderson film

Jeff Godlblum has gone on record as loving all PT Anderson films
Paul F Tompkins has appeared in a PT Anderson film.

Paul F Tompkins’ wife Janie Haddad is 5’5” according to imdb
Jeff Godblum’s first wife Patricial Gual is 5’5”

Jeff Goldblum was in the movie “The Fly”
Paul F Tompkins always looks fly in his fancy suits.

Both men will live to be 68yrs old.
Both men will die by ingesting poison.

Paul F Tompkins’ manager is named Jeff
Jeff Goldblum’s manager is named Paul

Paul F Tompkins has a magnificent mustache
Jeff Goldblum’s first child will be named Mustache

In a past life Paul F Tompkins was Abraham Lincoln
In a past life Jeff Goldblum was John F Kennedy

Spooky right??? Is it all just a coincidence or is there a freaky connection between these two? I guess we’ll never know.

Don’t try to double check any of my facts, they’re all true, just trust me.

-Stray




Okay, this is going to be a heavy one. It’s also going to be long, and there are going to be curse words galore, Disclaimer: I talk about a lot of awful things here: racism, homophobia, bullying, sexual assault, etc, so if you’re triggered by anything along those lines, you might not want to read on.

Bigotry, Cruelty, & Lost Friends

Although Halloween has the potential to be a lot of fun, it also seems like the holiday where you learn who all the most heinous motherfuckers in existence are. Seeing this picture really hurt my heart. I came super close to shedding a tear. It’s just… blegh.

I saw this floating around on Facebook and shared it on my wall and added my thoughts, and while my friends and I were all admonishing these monsters I added this thought:

"…man, people like this scare me, I don’t see them as just some assholes, I see them as people who lack so much empathy that given the opportunity would victimize others, if they haven’t already. They’re the exact type of people that will commit a hate crime, or bully some gay kid, or sexually assault a drunk girl at a party. They look like monsters to me."

I thought this was a pretty straightforward, rational, salient point. But a friend felt the need to challenge it, I’m copying and pasting the conversation verbatim so you can tell me if maybe I was in the wrong here (I don’t feel I was), the only thing I’ve changed is instances of his name to “dude” instead, the conversation was as follows:

Read More

So I’m back home from my trip to Cali to attend my uncle’s funeral. It was a good trip. You’d think given the circumstances that it would be very somber, but everyone was happy to see eachother, and they were especially happy to see me because I hadn’t been around in so long. Even when I was in California I was off doing my own thing in LA and I didn’t visit as much as I could’ve. Everyone wanted to know about Vegas nightlife and casinos and the strip and all that, but I’m not into any of that so I had nothing to tell them. It’s funny how exciting Vegas is to people who don’t live here, but all I can think about is how much more fun it is to be in LA.
As for the funeral. Here’s the thing, if I’m being honest, this whole time it hasn’t really hit me that hard that my uncle passed, him and I weren’t especially close, I couldn’t even recall a great memory of him as hard as I tried, I kept coming back to this one bad memory I had of him that had made me resent him a little bit. I wanted to be there for my family more than anything else, especially my dad and my grandmother. I thought I’d be able to mostly keep it together at the funeral, but throughout the course of it I felt like I got to know him better through hearing other people talk about him than I ever did while he was alive, and I ended up bawling like everyone else. It made me realize how stupid I’ve been my entire life. I realized I keep some people in my life at a safe distance because I feel like they don’t understand me and I don’t relate to them. I don’t make an effort to help me know me better, I just withdraw and keep to myself. So many people in my family think I’m “quiet”, but it’s just that I feel like I don’t have much to say to them. Most of my family doesn’t really know me for this reason. They don’t know that I’m passionate, and funny, and opinionated, and sometimes abrasive, or that I fucking curse like all the motherfucking time. They don’t know that I struggle with anxiety and depression, they don’t know that I’m unhappy so often, and lonely and unfulfilled, and frustrated. I’m never myself around them. They get the bare minimum. They get best foot forward job interview Jeff instead of just Jeff the actual person. My uncle died and I got to know him secondhand at his funeral when I could’ve been getting to know him my whole life. He on the other hand never got the chance to know me and never will. Oops. One of the people who spoke was a friend of my uncle’s, he said something to the effect of, sometimes you don’t get closure, but that’s good, because it teaches you a lesson that you carry with you for the rest of your life… he said it much more eloquently, I’m butchering it I’m sure. Some lessons don’t stick til you learn them the hard way. I’m determined now to make the most out of the relationships in my life.
Is this a complete downer of a post? Haha. Afterward we were in the funeral motorcade on the way to the grave site, and all this stuff is going through my head, and I’m also thinking about my father’s mortality because he’s not been doing well health-wise, and I’m also thinking about the fact that one day I’m going to lose a brother or they’re going to lose me, and then I see a dead dog laying in the street and I’m like aw come fucking on, I have enough things to be sad about right now! Then I saw an attractive woman watering her lawn in these tiny hot pink short shorts and a tank top, and I think “Nnnice!” How quickly that ass made me forget about all that heavy stuff on my heart.
If laughter is the best medicine, maybe ass is the 2nd best?

So I’m back home from my trip to Cali to attend my uncle’s funeral. It was a good trip. You’d think given the circumstances that it would be very somber, but everyone was happy to see eachother, and they were especially happy to see me because I hadn’t been around in so long. Even when I was in California I was off doing my own thing in LA and I didn’t visit as much as I could’ve. Everyone wanted to know about Vegas nightlife and casinos and the strip and all that, but I’m not into any of that so I had nothing to tell them. It’s funny how exciting Vegas is to people who don’t live here, but all I can think about is how much more fun it is to be in LA.

As for the funeral. Here’s the thing, if I’m being honest, this whole time it hasn’t really hit me that hard that my uncle passed, him and I weren’t especially close, I couldn’t even recall a great memory of him as hard as I tried, I kept coming back to this one bad memory I had of him that had made me resent him a little bit. I wanted to be there for my family more than anything else, especially my dad and my grandmother. I thought I’d be able to mostly keep it together at the funeral, but throughout the course of it I felt like I got to know him better through hearing other people talk about him than I ever did while he was alive, and I ended up bawling like everyone else. It made me realize how stupid I’ve been my entire life. I realized I keep some people in my life at a safe distance because I feel like they don’t understand me and I don’t relate to them. I don’t make an effort to help me know me better, I just withdraw and keep to myself. So many people in my family think I’m “quiet”, but it’s just that I feel like I don’t have much to say to them. Most of my family doesn’t really know me for this reason. They don’t know that I’m passionate, and funny, and opinionated, and sometimes abrasive, or that I fucking curse like all the motherfucking time. They don’t know that I struggle with anxiety and depression, they don’t know that I’m unhappy so often, and lonely and unfulfilled, and frustrated. I’m never myself around them. They get the bare minimum. They get best foot forward job interview Jeff instead of just Jeff the actual person. My uncle died and I got to know him secondhand at his funeral when I could’ve been getting to know him my whole life. He on the other hand never got the chance to know me and never will. Oops. One of the people who spoke was a friend of my uncle’s, he said something to the effect of, sometimes you don’t get closure, but that’s good, because it teaches you a lesson that you carry with you for the rest of your life… he said it much more eloquently, I’m butchering it I’m sure. Some lessons don’t stick til you learn them the hard way. I’m determined now to make the most out of the relationships in my life.

Is this a complete downer of a post? Haha. Afterward we were in the funeral motorcade on the way to the grave site, and all this stuff is going through my head, and I’m also thinking about my father’s mortality because he’s not been doing well health-wise, and I’m also thinking about the fact that one day I’m going to lose a brother or they’re going to lose me, and then I see a dead dog laying in the street and I’m like aw come fucking on, I have enough things to be sad about right now! Then I saw an attractive woman watering her lawn in these tiny hot pink short shorts and a tank top, and I think “Nnnice!” How quickly that ass made me forget about all that heavy stuff on my heart.

If laughter is the best medicine, maybe ass is the 2nd best?