The drawer that will never get built.

I bought a drawer from Target 2 days ago to place into my bedroom. Its still there, sitting in the corner waiting for it to get built. Yea I pick up the pieces, look at the instructions, then place them back down, and head into my office. Meh.

Im waiting for a phone call from a close friend. I consider the friend close, but not close enough to talk about stuff which is weird since I think he would be a good person to just dump all my issues on and see if he can help me. But lately friendships and interesting people have been few. The biggest gripe i have, well i think im getting over it is with an old friend. He got married, we spent a countless amount of time hangging out but after all that I was told of his weeding literally 4 days before and it was a, come if you want to come, invite. Which lead me to think about how I approach a friendship. Here i was thinking that if he ever needed anything i would give it but the feeling wasnt mutual. Then i started to think, does a few talks here and there really constitute a friendship? The answer was a resounding no. So at what point do two people become friends? Im not too sure.

Everything has been extremes with me. Friendships included. Not that thats been a bad thing. I guess i miss my LA friends is what im getting to. No not the post High school friends but my High School friends. I miss who I was with them, sure of everything, sure where I was going, and giving advice to people that really didnt care to hear me spout out extreme views on life.

Friends im making, or I think im making, up north seem to be pieces of me I miss and for the first time I feel like Im the listener and not the person giving the advice.


When I was a kid, around 10-11 or so I used to play outside my house like any other little kid. On rare ocations I would see my dad walk into his car, turn on the radio, and sit in the car under the tree drinking. Budweiser was his favorite and was cold as ice when I would touch it. I would ask if i could sit in the car with him and he would always say yes. Because I was so small i could fit in the section of the car were the passenger places his/her feet. So I would sit there listening to the radio and watching my dad listen to the radio and drink. A few minutes would pass and at some point he would vomit, im assuming because of the alcohol. I would cry, and ask him if he was ok. He would then start crying and would say yes. This was a constant occurance for me and my playtime. Most of the time i would brush it off but the nagging question as to why he did it always stayed with me. What drove my dad to sit there get so drunk infront of me, vomit, cry, and see his kid help him clean his vomit?

Lately ive felt like I know what he was feeling. To say, “Fuck it! I cant take this I need to take a ‘time-out'”. No i dont go to that extreme, I just run or turn up the music and put on my headphones. The point I wanted to make is this. Im starting to understand him. Must have been hard for him. humm interesting.

I could write a book on my dad. Hes a walking puzzle with so many pieces it will take my lifetime to understand each piece on how they all fit. Its like the piece of the puzzle where you first see it and you think to yourself, “wow this is one ugly piece where the hell does it go?” but as you start putting each piece together you realize that the ugly piece was part of a rose bush or a fruit tree.

Armando Padila – Hungry.

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