Feeling Nostalgic, aka Sad

Hello again. It’s March 6th of 2024, and even though it’s -16°C where I live, the sun is shining and trying to make the world brighter.

What a lovely thought, huh?

Anyways, I just woke up, maybe about a half hour ago. I’m sitting on my couch with an iced coffee spiked with homemade coconut creamer (literally mixed some coconut milk, Sweetened condensed milk, and regular 2% together until it resembled creamer) and I’m lost in the past.

I used to be a part of a local theatre group called Street Spirits way back in the day (I joined circa 2014-ish, even though they started way back in 1999) and was with them until things slowed down in late 2019. Then the pandemic hit, and they stopped. And now here we are, four years later, and it felt like yesterday.

It hurts. Street Spirits was like my home away from home. They were there for me when I felt like nobody cared. They were the angels that helped me see the world around me, helped me learn about all of the demons I was facing. They made me feel like I wasn’t alone, and to appreciate the little things, even when the world feels like it’s against you.

And I’m missing them today. The weather made me think of them. How weird. I think I might binge their YouTube channel, and the few films that they have there – I wish they put more of their films up. Apparently they made lots of films before my time. Oh, what I wouldn’t give to have been there then.

Anyways, I’m going to go be nostalgic. Stay warm today, take your meds, enjoy a nice drink and a snack.

Peace.

QM

Happy New Year?

Well, it’s 2024 now. Currently February 15th, as this is being written. Last I wrote was last May. What’s new?

Not much, because I can’t remember a lot of what’s happened from last I wrote until now. The world keeps doing whatever it does, every day blurs into the next, and I can’t focus on much.

So, yeah. Nothing new.

I mean, it’s already February. The new year just started, and we’re two months out of twelve already done. Like, what the hell? Where is all of this time going? Why can’t I remember any of it?

Anyways, there’s my piss poor excuse for a post today. I really don’t have much else to say without blabbing about how shitty it all feels. I don’t want to sound preachy, or prissy, or bitchy, so it’s best I just end the post here.

Tune in next time I feel like complaining, I guess. Maybe it’ll be a whole year later. We’ll see.

Anyways, peace.

QM

A Well-Deserved Word Vomit

Hello, again. I guess it’s been long enough since whenever it was that I wrote last, so here it is: a word vomit post.

I feel like it’s been forever since I wrote here, let alone remembered I had a blog thing, so maybe I should reintroduce myself, just so we’re all on the same page. My name is Queer Montague, but I’m sure if you look hard enough, you’d find the name the government refers to me as. I like to think of myself as a “writer” but I don’t have anything published to my name, let alone spend enough time actually writing. I also think I’m a poet, a playwright, a storyteller, but since the world decided to shut down, I’ve just been trapped in my own head because it seems to be easier than existing anyplace else. Depression has made me its bitch, and I guess I don’t have the courage to disobey. So, here I am.

A little life update, so I can give some appropriate backstory to this tragedy: my oldest brother was killed in a car wreck nearly eight months ago, and I still don’t know how to handle it, so I just push it to the back of my brain. People always say it gets easier with time, and I know that’s a damned lie. It doesn’t get easier to deal with, I just get better at hiding how it affects me. Even though it still feels like it happened yesterday.

And everything I had as an anchor in my life, everything I thought I could depend on when I thought I had nothing else, is gone. When I was a moody teenager, silently rebelling against the world, I thought I would always have certain things to fall back on when shit got rough. For example: music, because I always had my headphones in to block out the world; friends, because I thought I’d always have those and now I have none of those; a group I associated with my depression getting better, but turns out it wasn’t mine to love and I can’t love them the way I want to because it was never mine to love at all; spending those good moments with people who loved me for me, but that’s a lie because nobody loves me and I can’t help but think all of those people never liked me and that the only reason they did like me was because I could be used for their benefit and gain – everything I once knew, all of those rocks I thought I could use as support, that I thought I would always have – all of it is gone. Everything is changing. Maybe it’s because I’m getting older, and change is inevitable, but I hate it all the same.

I have to put on a mask to exist now. With everybody who I encounter. I’ve lost too many people to take it as a learning curve. Maybe it’s just me. But I can’t lower my guard because I don’t want to get hurt again. So, as long as I wear a mask and put up some fake face, I won’t experience the pain and fear again.

As Bella Swan said in that cheesy sparkly vampire flick, maybe I, too, am one of those “suffer in silence types.” A lone wolf or something. And as much as I can look back and laugh, it really does hurt to look back and see point blank how much I’ve lost, how much I don’t have now, and see what I’ll never get back.

I’m lost in limbo, and as much as people suggest shit like “find a new hobby”, “go for a walk when you’re stressed”, or “meet new people by putting yourself out there”, nothing is going to be like it was, when I was a sad teenager and thought the world was against me, when in reality, I would give my entire soul to just go back there to that time. Because when teenage me was sad then, that poor kid really had it all.

So, what is next? What do I have to look forward to? What is the deal breaker that is going to make me keep the lights on?

Will we ever know?

I don’t know. And I don’t know if any of that made a lick of sense, but I guess tha’t just the way my brain has developed. I feel trapped, I’m afraid of change, and I just want to go back in time.

If you have any advice to give, please don’t give it. I probably won’t follow it because everything scares me. I just want things to go back to the way it was. Insert that “shit, go back” button meme.

Well, until the next time I feel like actually “writing” something to appease my 2015 blogger phase, peace out and take an extra nap.

QM

New Year Ramblings

Holy man, it’s the new year already.

I don’t really know how to feel about it. This past year has been one hell of a speed bump that I would like to never relive again.

I can’t really remember what happened up until September, but after that, that’s when my life took a turn I wish it hadn’t of taken. My oldest brother was killed in a car wreck. He was twenty nine. He was just about to start a new job, and he seemed haply about it. He’d been having troubles with his vices, and I think he was so far into his substances that this new job was a light at the end of the tunnel. He was going to get better.

And it sucks. It really does. He made some questionable choices in life, but he did not deserve to go out like that. Nobody deserves that. He didn’t deserve to get taken out that way. He was trying to better himself. He never led on how bad his addictions were, yet he used them as a crutch. He was so engulfed in them that he was starting to lose who he was. But this new job, he was actually excited for. Being unemployed for a few months because of personal reasons, and also with the call of his addictions, this was a step in the right direction.

His “friends” who knew him in the addictive community probably wouldn’t think much of him, and how he went out. But, and I don’t care what anybody ever says, he did not deserve what he got.

Then, in early December, my great uncle lost a long battle with cancer. He was ninety. As much as all the signs were leading up to the end, it didn’t make it any easier. He was about to start radiation therapy, because his vitals were good. The next morning, he was tired and not as well, and then there was nothing.

That’s the biggest “fuck you” thing about it: he was starting to do better. He was looking up, he was starting to get his energy back. But then, it went downhill, and it went that way incredibly fast.

And now it’s January.

I feel like time has been flying by, and now it’s 2023, and it came out of nowhere. And I feel empty. Just… deflated. My head hurts all the time, I have to fight back the tears, and if I sit idle too long, my brain starts replaying everything back, reminding me that my brother and great uncle are no longer amongst the living.

It really sucks. Christmas felt fake, like those Hallmark movies: all put on for the sake of holding up a facade. It’s all a stage performance parading as real life.

I don’t know what the future is going g to look like. And the more I try to picture it, the more my head hurts. So I’m not going to look that far.

I’d like to say I hope happier times are ahead, but I don’t even believe that. I just want my brother and my great uncle back. I think that’s the old thing that will make me truly happy.

So. I guess I’ll just leave off by saying this: this is where I am right now, and I guess all I can do is take life one minute at a time. Because everything can change so quick.

QM

Another Year Older

Well, I’m another full year older.

I’m 25 now, but the only reason I know that is because I had to do the math. I honestly couldn’t remember my age. My mom had to remind me that it was my birthday.

Every single day blurs into the next. Keeping a calendar nearby does nothing to help. I’m too disorganized for a planner. Every day is just another day I’m still living.

It feels weird. It’s like I’m a character in a bad simulation game, and somebody keeps hitting the “respawn” button. I’m not advancing, while also not falling behind. I’m just in the same spot, doing the same things, day in and day out.

Just breathing.

It honestly feels so strange. In school, they always told you to think ahead, plan ahead, predict and create who you want to be in the future.

I was that kid that couldn’t do that. I couldn’t do that because I didn’t even know who I wanted to be, what I wanted to do. I was just myself: a bland being that blended into the wallpaper, the backdrop. I was the kid nobody loved and nobody hated. I was the ghost in every class. I wasn’t a star athlete, or the pretty girl, the bad boy, the smoker over in the pit, the nerd, the overachiever, the car stud, the goth chic, the metal head, the band kid. None of it. I was the drifter, the ghost, the nobody.

I didn’t know anything about myself.

And now, years later, I still don’t know. I’m drifting through life, like I did my highschool classes. I’m unsure of the unknown. I don’t have dreams or aspirations or hopes for my future.

I just breathe. That’s all I’ve ever done, because that is all I know how to do.

And I’ve be doing it for 25 years. Or so my mom tells me.

QM

Candy

It’s interesting, how small things – as ordinary and simple as they seem – can take you down a rabbit hole of thought.

I’m currently working my “nine to five”, and I still have a long ways to go. I had to take an extra strength ibuprofen when I got to the job place, because, to quote a quote I should coin: “I am Mother Nature’s least favorite child.”

Also, because some wires in my brain don’t connect well enough, I have to chew my ibuprofen into smaller bits, then chug a bunch of water in order to take them – I do not recommend it, it’s fucken disgusting – and since I had not been expecting to take painkillers today, I didn’t bring anything to get the taste out of my mouth.

Candies are usually something I’ve been meaning to carry, but I always forget.

This little thing – candies – got me thinking about somebody I went to school with. For the sake of the story, I’m going to call him Aragorn. (Because why the heck not?) Aragorn was a sweet tooth; ever since I knew him, he always had candy on his person. It didn’t matter what kind, either. Candy was candy.

As we got older and went to high-school, Aragorn less and less had candy – there was once day I can remember, when somebody asked him for a Werthers and he said he was out, it was like a bomb had gone off.

I graduated a year before him, and I didn’t see him as much. I went to a beer blast with a different “friend” – they’re a stranger now – and, wouldn’t you know it, Aragorn was there, too.

He was drinking, as was everybody, but every twenty or so minutes, he’d go with a group of these guys who were notorious for being dealers in the side of their football jock personas. And Aragorn wasn’t watching them smoke and snort and whatever. He had joined right in.

At the time, I thought they’d made him cave. Those jerks corrupted him.

I’ve learned candy, or something sweet, can help calm cravings. Smokers turn to candy or gum when trying to quit, ex druggies try to get into something sweet, and on a movie once, I saw an ex alcoholic constantly have lollipops in every scene in an attempt to stay sober.

Maybe from a young age, Aragorn knew he wasn’t going to win his battle with drugs. But he just attempted to prolong the start date.

I don’t know what he’s up to today. I heard he might have graduated, or he dropped out just before school ended. A year after that, I’d heard he was dealing.

And now, that was six years ago.

I hope he’s doing better. I hope he’s okay. If I knew where he was, I’d bring him the biggest candy stash he’d ever see.

But yeah. All that – the past coming back to haunt me – triggered by a craving of candy.

QM

A Rant In May

Hello, hello.

Last time, I said I hope that the next time I write, it’ll be about something better.

Not too sure if that’ll be the case, but here goes nothing….

Honestly, nothing much has happened since last time. I just remembered I had a blog, and my brain went, “You should update that.” Not that there’s many reading this, but I guess it will just give me good piece of mind.

I’m still working my “nine to five” because I’m broke. Everything blurs together. The world around me makes me not want to be a part of it. I haven’t written anything consistent or passionately in probably quite a few months. And, I don’t even know if I’ll ever get back into writing long-term.

I used to be about screenplays and playscripts – putting into words what would make a great scene. Like, all of the details and little aesthetics. I love building up stories like that. But, I paused writing things like that at the beginning of the year – unintentionally and subconsciously – and I just haven’t gotten back into it. It’s a terrible writer’s block, I guess, and it won’t go away. I can write small snippets every now and again, but it never adds up and never sticks. And, after a piece is written, I forget about it almost instantly.

When it’s not memorable, it’s beginning to die.

I think I just don’t want to write something I deeply love, and let it sit and collect dust, which is my ultimate fear. So, that alone stops me from continuing, because I get stuck on the notion of “what is the point.”

I really do want to change that way of thinking. But I’m not sure when that will be; for the past week or so, I’ve been trying to bring works-in-progress with me wherever I go, in case I get a few seconds to scribble in them. That’s an alright first step. But, so far, nothing sticks.

Anyways, that about sums up my life in a sob story, at least for a while.

Most likely, I’ll forget to write for a long while, because that always seems to be the case. This used to be a short story blog, and now it’s just for rants that don’t make much sense.

I apologize.

Until the next post, whenever and whatever that may be, peace.

QM

New Year Word Vomit

Hello, again.

It’s currently January 25th of 2022, and it’s almost six at night. I have a late night shift, and it’s the eighth shift in a row. Tomorrow and the day after are my two days off, then an early shift the next day….

But let’s not talk about that.

I really don’t know what I want to talk about. I feel tired, and for the past few days I’ve been lost in the depths of my head. The all-too-familiar symptoms of depression has been setting in, as much as I wish they weren’t. I’m trying to dig myself out of it, but I’m just too tired lately. The constant “go go go” of work hasn’t been helping any. But I need money to live.

Into other news, I started working on a playscript that I haven’t really touched in over a year. I fixed a few plot holes, may have found a few new ones…. The project has been nice, but then the demons come back in my brain and whisper profanities there. Still, I think just the act of doing something has helped me a bit.

I constantly want to sleep. I’m tired all the time. I’m wondering when I’ll be happy. It’s all weird feeling. I don’t know the right way to explain it.

Other than that, nothing much has changed. I’m doing best to not get lost in my own head, but it just feels hard sometimes. I’m managing. I’m just… tired. I’m just really tired.

Sorry, I thought this rant was going to be longer, but it isn’t. I’m working a lot, I’m tired all the time, and all I ever feel like doing is sleep. And thinking of words is getting strenuous when tired.

Hopefully I can write something more interesting next time. Until then, be safe, and peace.

QM

End of the Year Rant

Hello. I haven’t really written in a hot minute…. Not much of an excuse, but it’s the best I got.

Anyways, onto why I’m actually writing here today: I would like to dump a bit of a rant on here. Not my favorite blog topics, but I think once I word vomit it could let me be more creative for other stories and writings. (At least, I hope.)

It’s the end of the year. More specifically, it’s the end of a really shit year. And the news keeps getting more and more stressful the longer it’s watched. So, I don’t really watch the news much. People tell me about things, or I see an article shared around the social medias.

I’m not working as much as I was working earlier this year. But looking back, I think I’m doing alright: I left a job I loathed, met some new people while I was there, and started another job where I was working more often and getting a steadier income. It wasn’t glamorous or anything, but it was nicer than working at a shithole I hated. Now, the hours have decreased a bit, but I’m glad. I like the break. I enjoy it.

I’ve had my depressive moments, and by “moments”, I pretty much mean the whole year. It went by so quickly and so drastically that I can’t really differentiate each month from the next. But now, here in December, I feel content moving forward. Hopefully, as a goal for next year, I can make more moments memorable.

I’m hoping also to force myself to make some bigger decisions. I’m twenty four, and my behavior is one of a kid in high-school. I’m scared of the real world, yet I’ve been in it for six years.

My biggest goal for the future, above all big and scary grown up decisions, will ultimately to be happy. Be everlasting in my happiness. Bring loved ones with me in that. Share the love. Show my peace. Don’t drop anchor.

It’s almost tomorrow now. Hopefully, this positivity can stay with me a little while longer.

There is probably so much more to rant about. There’s always more. But, since this word vomit kind of turned positive, let’s leave it off here.

To all those reading this: please, be safe, be well, and peace.

QM

First To Graduate

He’s the first in his family to graduate.

A smile comes to my mind when I remember him: kind, caring, generous. He always thinks of others first. Whether it is as simple as checking in, or as complex as needing a shoulder to cry on, he cares about the well-being of other souls. His calmness helps, always, and he is always willing to offer it.

He is always strong. Watch his eyes when he needs to make a tough choice in the moment, when he needs to defend himself from the evils and injustices of the streets, when he has no other option but to protect those from harm. He will never shed a tear. You will never see him cry. He will never harm another person, but will punch somebody out if they deserve it. He will never start a fight, but will defend his own.

He’s compassionate. He’s a good listener when he doesn’t know what to say. He’ll let you rant about whatever is on your mind. He will never judge you, for anything. He’s accepting like that, caring who you are and what you believe in. He will never put you down, and will always liberate you and make you feel you are worth being alive.

He’s wise, yet he’s young. He wants to be a different person than what people say about him. He wants to meet a nice girl, and show her that when the time comes, he won’t walk out on her and leave her alone. When the time comes, he’ll be right by her side, and he’ll show not only her, but himself, that he is his own person, and he isn’t his father’s son.

He knows the hardships of the world, and takes on more than he needs to. He accepts your burdens, and will turn them into butterflies. He has no fuse to ignite, no buttons to push. He will not raise his voice, but will speak loud enough to be heard when the moment calls for it. He will not speak over anybody, or interrupt. He will not ignore or taunt, tease or pester.

He likes music. He’s learning the guitar and the drums. He likes how drums sound like heartbeats, and how guitar sounds like the soul. He likes how a song can speak all the words he can’t. He likes how music can say all he needs to say when he can’t find the right words himself.

He’s the oldest of his family. He’s seen more than his mere eighteen years can justify. He still has the rest of his life to live. He is a young man with an old man’s soul.

He is the first to graduate.

QM