I've adapted a wonderful life motto:
"When life hands you lemons, slit your wrists and start squeezing..."
Am I bitter?
Yes. LOL... but I admit it, right?
Okay, okay...now that I'm over my dramatic shpill for the day, let me just explain to you the insurmountable, overwhelming chaos that has just entered my life lately. I don't understand the pattern, but it's certainly chaotic. But I'm still happy, so I guess it can't be too bad.
Well, upon my adventures outward, I decided to stop by the acoustic cofeehouse to see a friend of mine. No big deal, right? I do this like, several times...and it never turns out TOO crazy.
I found my exception.
I began to walk out to the patio, AKA "the smoker's lounge," still on the prowl for my friend. I reach for the screen door... and this is where the camera begins to slow down just a tad. My eyes slowly shift from my feet, to the door handle...and from the door handle, upward. Upward to the open square of black night and screen. Something was standing there. Someone. Someone I probably could've went my whole life without seeing again. A stocky, tattoo-covered individual stands before me, with a smirk on his face. A smirk I recognized entirely too easily. I blinked, and blinked again, and realized this wasn't one of my dillusions again...lol. You know what I mean, when you think you're running into someone, but come to find out, it's Betty Joe from the projects or something. But not this time. God, not this time...and I was unprepared for this encounter....
I'll give you three guesses on who it was.
And I did my thing. I handled it much better than I ever expected, and I didn't wind up in jail. That's a blessing on it's own, ladies. And I realized a few things that evening...
1. That I am capable of intimidating people physically stronger than me...lol
2. That I am a MUCH better person now verses a year ago....which means I've grown
3. I don't know what the HELL I was thinking... and...
4. My friends keep me strong. And I can face nearly anything boldly with God by my side.
And yesterday, my day of rest. I was kind of enjoying the nonchalant movement of the day. Just comfy. Like your favorite pair of pj's...it was just that kinda day. You know...you don't wanna cook, but you don't wanna call out for anything, but ultimately wind up making a fabulous dinner. One of those days.
And a yell had to interrupt it for me....
"BRANDON! BRANDON... put some clothes on and come to the door! You're being served!"
What? Served?!
OHHH... yeah. It hit me. I was trying to make sure that this was the only thing that could possibly lead to a court room. Yeah, it was my accident. Remember that accident? The accident from a year and a half ago? The accident that I totaled my car the day I paid it off, and the insurance was freshly branded with liability insurance, as I thought I'd try to save myself a few bucks? Remember that day?
The day my baby died.... :*( I misses muh Honda. Proud Mary, you'll be missed.
And I'm throwing clothes on, as I'm thinking about the semseter I failed because of this accident, or the struggle I suffered with trying to replace that car *and I'm still going on with that struggle* or the work I missed because of the many times I wound up in the hospital over that damn arm.
And I was thinking...."why am I being sued?"
Okay, maybe I'm just ranting, but whenever I go to the door, it kinda hits me.
"Joseph Waycaster?" That's always a chilling response...when my FIRST name comes up...lol.
And that was it...I was served with court papers. I'm being sued, ladies and gentlemen. The broke-ass college student is being sued for $25,000. "Pain and suffering." Yeah, you heard it. Pain and suffering.
The biggest irony of my existence. I'm being sued for pain and suffering.
Anybody else see something wrong with this? But who am I kidding....
And after going out last night, and being witness to one of the trashiest experiences of my life, combined with the blood dripping from some random girl's face in the parking lot of the bar, I realize that my life is nothing more than a HUGE "what's wrong with this picture" puzzle you see in the sunday papers.
But I'm cool with it.
Although there's a shoe hidden in my bushes, I think I'm pretty okay.
I swear, I think that the Trashville Sound shut down or something. I mean, not that I'm saying anything, but there was TRASH...and very little english.... I know...and the big red flag for me was when they put up a sign that said...
"ONLY ENGLISH ID'S ACCEPTED"
Brandie and I were walking out and I asked her to follow me up to my car, because something just FELT wrong, and I know this feeling all too well. I felt it before the waffle house scenario and all that jazz; I don't mesh well with this big intuition. And out of nowhere...
As I just uttered the words to Brandie... A HUGE fight broke out in the parking lot. Guy beats up gf, she's running around with blood dripping all over. And I'm just in shock...because this is EVERY BIT breaking down
in front
of my
SCAMARO.
Once again, I had no way out. Three cop cars pull up, and I finally find a way out.
I guess I should rely fully on my hope and faith that things will balance out soon, that life has it's ways of working out. And I mean, it's not so bad.
I wound up not blowing out both of Ben's knees that night, which is good. And the insurance company is taking care of the suit. So, it's not that bad. And it wasn't ME with a jacked up grill, and I didn't have a gun in my face this time. And although all this happened in front of my Scamaro.... my iPod wasn't touched. Thank god.
But I've vowed to lay low for awhile, avoid the scene, and hang out with my buddies...especially after seeing Heather there, and knowing that chaos only happens at the bar whenever we're together...lol. So, I think I'm dodging the bullet, literally.
But what a bunch've unnecessary chaos. And I guess this is come to be expected when my mother and I work things out...lol.
