I sooooooooooo almost didn't come to work today. I was barely able to open my eyes this morning when my alarm went off at 6 am. In fact -- I didn't open my eyes, I shut off both my alarm clock and my cell phone with my eyes wide shut. The thing of it is...I could have stayed in bed and not gone into work -- and no one would have even noticed. My boss is in Mississippi for a proposal and a lot of people I work with in the office are on vacation. So, no one would even know/care about my whereabouts and I doubt I'll even communicate with a single person today while here. And this time, it's not on purpose.

I'm just so so so tired. I've been so busy lately with work, traveling, visiting home, driving, Buster, and my social life -- it seems like I rarely sleep. I try to set my 80 yr. old-esque bedtime of about 10:30 pm every weekday night. I haven't been anywhere near that lately. I barely slept while I was in L.A., I was in the airport all day/night on Friday and didn't get into Chicago until ungodly late, at home I slept until like 8:30 am on Saturday since my Mom made me breakfast and I couldn't turn it down, Chase slept in my bed on Saturday night to which I couldn't sleep/move and I also had to get up early for church so that I could get myself, Chase, and Spencer ready on time. Trying to shower, dress a 4 yr. old, feed and cater to a 4 month old the entire time is not very easy. So, long story short, I've gotten no sleep and I'm TIRED.

Wah, poor baby, Ryan.

I could still be working at A&F, barely making 30k a year, succoumbing to the evilness of mall-goers, and constantly going broke so that I can impress people with cheaply-made, yet overpriced clothing with holes in it -- in that respect I love my new life and career.

I'm awake.

My car's for sale! Buy it. Now. Or atleast tell your friends to buy it. Check out my facebook for it's details, or check out Mazda.com for specs on the 2006 Mazda 3. It's worth the read.

So, Valentines. Whatever.

It wasn't too bad, though. I don't know why people get so flustered by it, because really, it's just a monetary holiday, whose sole purpose is to make people buy meaningless shit. Who really wants a box of chocolates? I don't. And don't buy me chocolates and send it to work because I'll be too embarrassed to leave my office with it being in plain sight of others. I don't even like chocolate. The same idea goes for balloons and flowers. And yes, this is a hypothetical situation that involves imaginery people and imaginary events.

Anyway, I had my moments of self-pity and blah blah blah...but really, it's just bullshit anyway. The day makes no importance in the lives of anyone - single or coupled. The only real reason for people to place thought into the holiday is because girls expect gifts and guys expect to get laid. How special.

I look forward to my birthday. Now THAT'S a day to celebrate. You're all invited. No chocolates.

Funny:



Penelope: Hello, Blake.
Drake: It's Drake. Drake Bell?
Penelope: Don't care. What is it you do on Amanda's show?
Drake: A lot of things! I'm one of the co-stars. Sometimes I play Totally Kyle. Hey, you know, I'm also in a band and...
Penelope: You're wasting my life. What were the first words Amanda ever said to you?
Drake: I dunno, "Hi," I suppose.
Penelope: You're lucky. Someday she'll say hi to me too. And then I'll go unconscious, please.
Steak, have you ever written a fan letter to Amanda?
Drake: I told you, it's Drake. And no, I haven't. Oh, but I gave her a card on her birthday.
Penelope: Steak, I sent her 228 cards on her birthday, please.
Drake: My name is Drake.
Penelope: The interview is over. Thank you, please.

It's Valentine's Day tomorrow!

Who.the.fuck.cares.

So, after a long weekend full of relaxing and quality time with friends, I actually woke up this morning at 6 a.m. fully awake and ready to go. It was a first. Usually, I wake up 10-15 minutes before my alarm clock goes off. Actually, I don't "wake-up" rather my eyes open and I look at the clock to see how much time I have left to sleep. Some days, I'll wake up at 2 a.m. and be ecstatic that I have 4 hours left to sleep. Other days I'll wake up at 5:57 and my heart will sink when I realize it isn't even worth sleeping for the remaining 3 minutes because I'll just lay there and wonder when I'll hear that horrid alarm clock buzz. Even with that I can't complain. I bought a new alarm clock that has a rather smart approach to waking someone up. Instead of the typical buzzer that is UNGODLY loud and horrifying - making me wake up in a desperate panic to shut it off - my new alarm clock starts off with a very subtle, sporadic beep. It'll beep quietly and progress louder and louder every second. For some reason, I can hear the quiet beeping in my dreams, and then as it gets louder, I'll realize that the noise is actually my alarm clock. Buster is well trained to the alarm clock, too. Buster sleeps right next to me every night, right by my pillow. When the alarm goes off, Buster will get up and sit on my chest and stare at me. This happens every morning. He's THAT good. However, if I don't set my alarm clock (like on weekends and such) Buster will continue to sleep until I wake up. He's a pretty amazing lil dog.

So, back to my point, this morning I awoke promptly at 6 a.m. and wasn't even groggy or resistent to getting up. Buster jumped on me and stared at me, and was even willing to go outside at my first prompt. Usually, I'll get up and head to my patio door to make Buster go outside to do his "thing" to which he runs under my bed and hides, followed by me playing mind-games with him - pretending I'm going to go upstairs do something or that it's time for him to eat, which usually coaxes him into coming out and then I grab him and throw him out the door. Yet, this morning I didn't have to do ANY of this. He darted straight outside, happily. Yay life.

God that story was COMPELLING, wasn't it?

I'm really resisting the notion of going to L.A. this week. I kind of just want a week where I don't go anywhere. The traveling is chopping up my life into a series of stressful weeks. I might be bitchy, so watch out, although I doubt it because I'm soooo naturally inclined to smile and act like everything is perfect. I like to be a source of optimism. Not for myself, but for everyone else.

God I'm nice.

Ugh, another trip to Baltimore. I'm flying out tomorrow morning and I'll be back late tomorrow night. Yay. Not.

Call me.

In the midst of one of my 98475943 emails that my Mom and I send back and forth to each other from work everyday, we get into a little fight about being critical. I say that she's too critical of me when it comes to my finances and future endeavors. She says that I'm too critical of her and that I've suddenly become unwilling to listen to her and blah blah blah.

So, then she sends me this email:

So going back to my statement that you're critical of me - I guess I'm more sensitive to your words and actions because you've always been very thoughtful and considerate of my feelings, much more so than the other kids. With you being the youngest child and my "special" boy, I have a harder time watching you move away from me, both literally and figuratively. I am very protective of you - and when I see or sense that you are doing things that will be harmful to you at some point, I try to point them out to you. Moms have an extra sense that just knows when things are not always going as well as their child would like them to believe. And I know that children also have a tendency to tell their parents what they want to hear so they don't worry or intrude. So that's where I'm coming from. Like I said, I'll get over it and at some point, I know you'll be okay with asking for or accepting my advice and not get quite as defensive. It's a normal part of family life. So just know that I love you, I miss you, and I will try to let you make your own decisions and make your own mistakes. I sure made my share, and have a lot of scars to prove it. But every once in a while, just for a moment, I wish my parents would have paid more attention and given me some advice before I learned the hard way. I only want the best for you, Ry, and I hope you realize that someday. You're my everything, you're more than you'll ever know and I would not be able to go on with life if anything ever happened to you. You're my baby. I hope you're having a great day. I'm watching Spence all day tomorrow - can't think of a better way to spend the day! Come home some time when you can, and spend some time with the boys - Chase misses you... a lot! They're growing up so fast! Love you Ry, always. Momma

So, it's times like that where my Mom makes me feel like a rotten child by telling me what she really thinks about me. People tell me to "cut the cord"...

but, why would I ever want to do that?

Nothing is more unsettling than receiving a call from your mother, in hysterics, asking if you were alive.

I'll explain this...

My Mom frantically called me this morning to make sure I was alive because a friend of hers from California just called to express her deepest sympathies. My Mom had no idea what she was talking about, obviously, and the lady insisted that she had heard that I had died from a blood clot. My Mom immediately hung up on the woman and called my cell phone. Luckily, I answered.

My Mom's friend had read somewhere in an online obituary that Ryan Sumner, originally from Illinois then later Portland, Oregon, had died from a blood clot. She, for whatever reasons, automatically thought of me, and quickly called my Mom.

I'm indeed alive, but I must say that this whole ordeal has kind of freaked me out, especially when my Mom sent me an excerpt from the obituary that her friend had read:

In Other News...
R.I.P. RYAN SUMNER
Portland's community endured another loss on Saturday, January 14th, when local musician Ryan Sumner suffered a blood clot that traveled to his heart, leading to his death. Ryan Sumner was pronounced dead at 7:31 p.m. Saturday night at Mount Allister Hospital in Portland. Born on September 9, 1982, the not-quite 24-year-old had lived with a blood condition since birth. He was found by his roommate struggling to breathe. She rushed him to the hospital, where he died peacefully.

A memorial service for Ryan Sumner will be held Sat Aug 27 at Colonel Summer's Park, SE 20th and Belmont, 1 pm.

It's not healthy for me to hear/interpret information like this. It makes me think, and that's often dangerous.

All I can do is laugh. It's funny, really.

Anywho, I have all of these random, meaningless chores on my mind. Everytime I remember one task I need to accomplish, it sends me into a frenzy of other tasks I always ignore and put off for "later"...as in never. Here's a compiled list:

1) Go to the Sprint kiosk in the mall and have the phone numbers transferred out of my old cell phone and into my new cell phone. This will help ease the pain of receiving tons of unknown calls that are followed up with disgruntled voicemails about how I never call anybody back. SWEET JESUS. This is why I avoid my voicemail. There are soooo many reasons why I avoid doing this, mostly because my old phone was ran over and is barely working, secondly I can't find my old charger to charge it up because it's dead, third I hate going to the mall even though I live 45 seconds away from it, fourth I'm not sure it's even possible to do this, which scares me because this means the disgruntled voicemails WILL NEVER END.

2) Throw away all of my old bills. I really need to invest in a paper shredder. However, I resist this idea because I recently watched a That's So Raven episode where Raven's dad has a paper shredder and he goes shred-crazy and shreds every paper in the house, including Raven's science project! Yipes! That was a sticky situation. So, I'm not going to get a paper shredder because I too would become addicted to shredding, and would consequently end up shredding Raven's homework. She'd be sooo mad at me and I wouldn't be able to sleep for weeks.

3) Seek help for my That's So Raven addiction. It's not healthy and people make fun of me for it. Raven doesn't even know me. I simply need to stop watching the back-to-back episodes at 6pm, Monday thru Friday. I'll also throw in the need to stop watching the back-to-back episodes of The Golden Girls at 5pm, Monday thru Friday. This might help stop my fantasy of being like Blanche when I get older. Hell, I'd like to be more like Blanche right, now. She's pretty sassy.

4) Do something about the 876 pairs of jeans in my closet. Especially since I never wear 871 of them. They're mostly A&F jeans that are too big, too holey, or too gross for me to wear any more. I like fitted jeans. I like jeans that flatter my ass, my legs, and my crotch. I do own all three of those features, so therefore I would like jeans that don't resemble a denim potato sack around my lower body.

5) Either buy some new glasses or start wearing my contacts. My eyes cannot take the squinting and blindness that they endure everyday from staring at these blasted computer screens. I despise my old glasses, and contacts feel foreign on my eyes, creating more problems rather than doing anything significant. People also always think I'm glaring at them, when in actuality I'm trying my best to figure out who is who and if they're ugly or not.

These 5 things haunt me in my sleep. For some reason, I keep having these recurring dreams that I'm either late for taking a biology test in high school, late for teaching my swimming lessons as the children weakly wade in the pool, causing me to scream in a wild frenzy. Buster hates it when I do that. It scares him a little. I also have dreams where I'm waiting tables (like I did when I was 16) and that I'm extremely backed up and forgetting peoples drinks and messing up bills (which I also did when I was 16) and I'll wake up with my heart racing and in a dead sweat. And anyone that knows me, knows that I hate to sweat. I can't help but notice that in all of these dreams, I'm somebody's subservient bitch. I'm never late in real life, more like 5 minutes early. However I do aim to please, and I try to go above and beyond people's expectations. Maybe this is another thing to add to my horrid to-do list.

Ryan, stop being a lil pansy bitch.

Sweet.

I'm back to normal. No more deathly-ill food poisoning symptoms, no more bed rest, no more traveling...oh wait. Nevermind that. I'm heading out to Chicago tomorrow for work. Whoopee. Yet another proposal to present. I rocked the last one though, so if it goes like it did in D.C. -- all should be well. I'll be back Saturday, so fear not Iowa City.

So, yesterday I was at the Buzz waiting for my hair appointment and HELLO -- fell in love with a random person who happened to walk in. I'll divulge more about this as soon as I get more information. I don't want to give someone more credit than they deserve, like last time.

Sweet.

Definitely just got over a horrible case of food poisoning. The worst part of it was that it was self-inflicted. The next time I offer to cook anything - re-think the situation.

It's crazy how life changes.

Yeah...crazy. I've had the craziest week of my life, I think. I've never experienced so many ups and downs. I was happy. I was desperately sad. My face hurt from laughing so much. It was the first time I've sobbed in years. A plethora of emotions...well, a plethora of events. I rang in 2006 extremely intoxicated, yet extremely happy, too. A couple days later I'd find myself barely able to face the day, nor anybody. I have this thing where I can smile at people and act like the world is a beautifully perfect place. When, in reality, I just want to tell everyone to get the fuck out of my face. I'll grit my teeth, I'll look away. But I'll still smile and pretend everything is fantastic. Kelly Clarkson said that she's forced to fake a smile, a laugh everyday of her life. Yeah, me too. It's not because I'm fake. I'm not fake at all. I'm very real. It's only because I'm hurting. It's because I can't get through a sentence without that quiver of sadness that reveals itself in my voice, showing my weakness. That sparks a follow-up "What's wrong?" Don't even ask. I'd suddenly turn into Jessie Spano on speed. She's so excited, she's so scared. Me too.

Work. I'd kill for a moment to myself, a day with no expectations, a lifetime of living freely. Welcome to the real world. Work has nearly killed me. Awake at 4:30 a.m., in the office by 5. Deadlines are pushing my fingers, keeping my focus. There's no way around them. Work, eat, sleep, repeat.

My dog (aka my life) is sick. Very sick. There's nothing I can do about it either, except to keep some hope, and keep him happy. If in three weeks I become a manic-depressive psychotic wreck, it's because he's gone. Let's not think about that, though.

It's crazy how life changes.

Yuck. I'm swamped at work. I'm working on a case that's worth $303 million dollars. That's a lot of pressure. If we win, dinner's on me.

Anywho, I need to start buying stuff/cleaning my condo for my New Year's Party. If you were invited, consider yourself lucky. It's very VIP.

Remember, come hot.

Oh, WOW... I'm amazed. And I'm pissed. Yeah, definitely pissed. I'm not pissed at you, because, you see, I expect that from you. That is absolutely who you are, and there's nothing much you can do to change that. You think the world is at your disposal, and that you are rare delicacy, the hero, the shining star above Iowa City. Please. You are NOTHING special. Nothing special whatsoever, and eventually, everyone comes to that realization. Hopefully sooner than later. You are a user. A leech. You can only survive if you're sucking the life out of OTHER people, because you are incapable of surviving on your own. It's pathetic. So, I'm not mad at you. You are EXACTLY who you are. Congrats. Right.

Now, YOU, I'm mad at. Well, not mad. Disappointed. And I guess I'm mad at myself for thinking you were more than what you actually are, or are proving yourself to be. All that time, all that energy, all those feelings -- what a waste of time. What a waste of my life. And the fact that I still think about this whole thing is simply fuel to the fire. How completely stupid was I to think, that there are genuinely good people on this Earth? And stupid Me for placing value on you, because, I thought you were a good one. A keeper. A follow-up. You were worth the while. You made me think that I was doing something good in my life. You made me feel good. For once, I felt like I had found someone that was different...someone better than the rest.

How stupid was I?

So, after much consideration, London is a no go. My Mom would DIE if I went that far away, and I think that I would die, too.

Wow. So, it's interesting how things work out, isn't it? Congrats on whatever it is you think you're gaining. I hope you're happy with it.

Despite what it seems, I really love life. And I'm so excited that my life makes me feel good, because that can only mean bigger and better things are to come. I'm so ready for it, too.

Major moodswing occuring...right..about..now.

So, I had a GREAT weekend with my fam. My brother and sister from Colorado drove home to Galva to see everyone for the week. Unfortunately, I was only able to see them for the weekend, but it was still some quality time. I have the BEST family ever and I guess this weekend helped me remember that. I have some great pictures on the way, so keep an eye out for that.

Anywho, so I had the chance to talk to my Mom and sister a little bit and I started to realize some stuff about myself. I am finally in the right frame of mind. For the first time in my life, I feel like I'm making good decisions, and that I have good things happening, and I am surrounded by great people, and for that I am TRULY lucky. Not all 23 year olds feel like that. However, I do, and I'm grateful. I'm a very, very lucky guy.

Stream of conscienceness RANT:

Here's where my mood changes, I've been thinking about my love life lately and I've come to the conclusion that I am WAY too good for some people. Now, before you go and start hating on me and erasing my number from your cell phone, hear me out. It seems like I am SURROUNDED by a culture that assumes all relationships are based off of sex. Sex is like the glue of all relationships, whether it is sex appeal, sexual attraction, a sexual act, friends with benefits, "hook-ups" (which is such an ambiguous/undefined term), or whatever else...it's all based off of sex. Sex, sex, sex. Is that ALL that people think about these days? I know we live in a Hollywood-based society where we learn dating skills from Sex & the City and Laguna Beach and that only guys with big muscles and girls with big tits are what we all aspire to look like/be with. GIVE ME A BREAK. It's so easy to look at someone and say, "Wow, that person is hot and I'd like to have sex with them." Why do people date one another based off of physical attraction? Yes, it's important to be attracted to the person that you're seeing, but does that physicality keep you in a relationship, or does their physical appearance reveal ANYTHING about a person? F...some of the hottest people are the BIGGEST losers in existence. No one thinks that though because they're too busy imagining what they look like naked. So, people pursue one another based off of who's hot and who's going to give into a night, or week, or month of fleshly indulgence and fun. Not me, though. If you're a big, horny person, then yeah, go ahead and fuck everything in sight. I'm SO different and my friends have come to realize this about me. I want QUALITY. I want a relationship where I'm in love with a person because I KNOW that the person is PHENOMENAL, and that sex is a bonus, not a selling point. In my mind, no relationship that is based off of factors like beauty, sex, wealth, or power ever survives or is even worthwhile. Look at celebrities...NONE of them can ever stay together because they date/marry based upon their status, and money, and most importantly - their looks. Why do celebrities only date celebrities? Are they above us ugly, non-televised poor people? To them, the answer is probably yes. But all I can do is say HAAAAAA HAAAAAA HAAAAAAAA to Nick and Jessica, Paris and Paris, Brad and Jen, and practically EVERY celebrity couple EVER. And you know why they all suck? Because none of them are with one another for the RIGHT reasons. It's all circumstantial. I don't want circumstances. I want reality. Looking beyond celebrities, there are people that I know that are exactly the same. EXACTLY. It's so sad, and so disturbing to see how they dictate their lives. Yes, it is their life and they can do whatever they want with it, but it's still sad. SAD. These people see lust, not love...and the difference between lust and love is SO huge, that it's pointless to even write about it. Everyone is in lust these days. Except me.

Here's my deal -- I want to FALL in love. I don't want to look at someone and say, "You're hot, I could see myself being with you." FLIPPING RIDICULOUS. In some respects, I don't even want to be initially attracted. I want to see someone, think they're "okay" and after talking, and telling jokes, and shooting the breeze, and watching movies, and holding hands, and awkward moments, and sleepless nights...I want to see the beauty that makes up their ENTIRE being, inside and out. Not just their looks, not just their clothes, not just a casual flirtation. I want to fall in love with someone that is less-than-perfect, and then in time learn that they ARE perfect...and more importantly, perfect for ME. I want to love somebody for exactly who they are, and nothing less....flaws and all. Flaws are fantastic. They make us human. And if someone can accept me for my flaws, my life, and my everything, then that is absolutely who I want to be with, and that's who I'll devote myself to, and that's who I'll give up everything and anything to be with. Love is rare, so when you find it -- take it and run with it.

See what I mean -- mood swing. You didn't see that coming, did you?

Nicole Richie's publicist just reported to the Associated Press that she and her fiancee of nine months, DJ AM, have cancelled their engagement and have split ways. The first thing that came to my mind....Nicole Richie has a publicist?

That pretty much means that I should have a publicist.

I brush my teeth, I put the cap back on
I know you hate it when I leave the light on, I
Pick a book up, and then I turn the sheets down and
then I take a deep breath, and good look around...
Put on my pjs and hop into bed, I'm
half-alive but I've been mostly dead
I try and tell myself it all be alright
I just shouldn't think, anymore tonight...

Wow, what a long, tiring weekend. Don't get me wrong, it was a great weekend, but shizzzz..I'm kinda exhausted. I feel like I've neglected my friends for a couple weeks now and, for that, I'm sorry. My bad. I've just had a lot of stuff going on lately and it all kind of came together this weekend, and now that the weekend is over, I think things will get back to normal...for the most part. So, friends, I'll try to spread myself around all of you a lot more than I have been recently, because I know that's what you ALL want from me. And like Britney says, "I see nothing wrong in spreadin' myself around." And that's my prerogative, too.

Have you ever looked at a large crucifix and thought, "Jesus Christ, you have nice abs..." ...?

I have.