dashboard confessions

I'm not sure I've ever done this before.
In fact... I'm downright positive that I haven't.

I'm blogging with someone else in the room.

Its weird.

I feel like I'm being an exhibitionist. Like I'm letting someone see the most private part of me that there is.

I know that's silly. Everything I write I put out in the most public place there is for all the world to see. I don't really edit before I publish anything. I just write it and post it. 99% unfiltered. So why does it feel like I'm so exposed right now?

I guess its just the process.

No one's seen me write before.

Well....

I guess that still holds true.

My roommate is passed out in the recliner next to me. We were watching Stranger Than Fiction. And by "we were watching" what I really mean is that I watched it while he fell asleep 2 minutes in. He's been sleeping ever since.

I like that movie. Stranger Than Fiction. I like it a lot. It makes me wonder about how I write and what I write and what affect my writing has on the world.

It makes me wonder what I would write if I knew that everything I typed turned out to be true in someone stranger's life.

It also makes me wonder how my story is going to go. Comedy or tragedy? I realize that story hasn't been written yet, but everything I say, everything I do adds a sentence or a page or a chapter to that story. Where does it all lead?

It also makes me wonder what it would look like to go back and read all the pages that have passed. Once again, Comedy or tragedy? Some days its hard to tell which it is. Taken in its entirety, though, how does My Story read?

...

And on a completely different note....

I kind of want to tell you the story of a girl.

Actually, scratch that.

I really want to tell you.

The problem is that I still don't know how that one is going to go.

Well...

((for those of you not In The Know, that's how I start to say a majority of my goodbye's in on line conversations. I'll say something "the problem is that I still don't know how that one is going to go" and then I'll go "Well..." and then usually finish it off with "its time for me to hit the sack" or "its time for me to pass out" or "I'm sleep-E." Tonight, though, I think I"m going to go old school.))

Peace out and eat your vegetables, peeps!

Repeat: Female Vocalist

I was thinking about this earlier today... How hot would it hot would it be to date a singer? She wouldn't have to be famous or even a performer, really. Those would just be bonuses. Watching her sing a song on stage and knowing she was singing ti to me... That would be so hot.

But even if she weren't a performer and she just had a solid singing voice and enjoyed doing it... mmmm... She would inspire me to write, and my writing would inspire her to sing. We'd be like Sonny and Cher, except not as cheesy. And I wouldn't sing. Well... Ok... Lets be honest here. I'd still be cheesy, but she wouldn't have to be.

She'd sing me a song and I'd say the white guy equivilant of "Damn girl, you fine!" which would probably be something like, "my goodness, young female, you look quite nice this fine, summer evening." But whatever came out, it would be the right thing to say.

Cold Rain

I could hear it raining outside. The drops steadily beating against the window. I can barely tell if my eyes were open or closed. The darkness was like another person, lying there with me. I could feel it pressing against up against me, wrapping her cold arms around me, slowly drawing me in. But then I felt something else. Warmth. An arm resting across my chest. Hot breath on my shoulder. Its not like I had forgotten you were there, I just thought it had all been a dream.

I was smiling. I thought it had been a dream, but there you were. I took your hand to my lips and gave each of your fingertips a small kiss. You moved your body closer to mine, still sound asleep. I could feel you purring softly up against me and, slowly, I fell back asleep.

...

Trust me.
I know.
Sometimes I can be a bit... much.
I know this.
100%.
I like to think its part of my charm. My neuroses. Whatever you want to call it.
Its who I am.
This is also something I can't really change.
I can reign it in a little... but really, I don't want to.
I think its fun.
To be head-over-heels in love?
Yeah... that's the bee's knees, my friends.
I look forward to that.
To be all in.
That's my jam.
yeah....

Here's the thing, though.
Actually.
Nevermind.
...reigning it in.

Bandito Loco

Pumpkin: [Standing up with a gun] All right, everybody be cool, this is a robbery!



Honey Bunny: Any of you fucking pricks move, and I'll execute every motherfucking last one of ya!

Motive: I need a little extra cash for the move across country. Not a lot... but a little.

The Research: Did some light reading on The Geezer Bandit currently making his rounds across SoCal. That lead me to look into capture rates and average hauls as well as specific training bank employees have around robberies. I also read lots of stories about people getting caught--I mean, the best way to learn how to succeed is by learning how to fail, right? And since, in this case, failing leads to jail, I can't really afford to fail my self, so I'll have to learn by reading how others have failed before me. I also read several success stories. Most of those successes shared one commonality: They were one-time events, not attempts at a crime spree, in which the robber moved quickly and quietly and then disappeared.

The Plan:

1. Purchase a microwave and several car batteries in the backseat of my car (to be used later).

2. Tape up my rear window as well as a passenger window. Also cover the roof of my car. This will allow me to change the appearance of my vehicle quickly as well as cover identifiable marks (gator head in my rear window)

3. Dress appropriately. Hoodie, wig, fake facial hair, fake other-identifiable-mark-like-a-tatoo.

4. Rob bank. Calmly approach teller, hand them a note politely requesting $20,000. Whisper "Give me the money or I. Will. Murder. You." The key is to do it calmly and quietly while aslo emphasizing those last four words. Saying, "give me all the money or I'll kill you" is too trite--too hollywood. Saying "I will murder you" is much more intense and violent. Think about it. Once the money is in the bag, just calmly walk out the door.

5. This is where the microwave comes into play. There are banks out there that put tracking devices as well as dye in with the money. By throwing the bag into the microwave for a few minutes all electronic devices should fry, thus eliminating the tracking devices. I have no clue if this would disable the dye, but if it did, bonus! if not... well, i was getting screwed there anyways, right?

6. Leave the scene. Drive away calmly and pull into the nearest parking garage/apartment complex/generic location as possible to remove the window coverings from the car. Also take the money out of the microwave and search it for trackers/dye/etc. Ditch those devices if necessary.

7. Don't rob another bank. End my life of crime. The best way to not get caught robbing a bank is simply to Not Rob A Bank. The second best way not to get caught is to Not Rob Another Bank. I'm not doing this to become a career criminal after all... this is just a one time thing to supliment my income for my move. I figure I'll do it in a state where I have no ties. Louisiana or something. Somewhere I won't go back to anytime in the forseeable future. Certainly not somewhere I live or plan on living.

...

Disclaimer: I have never nor do I plan on ever robbing a bank. This has been a complete work of fiction. If you are reading this and thinking, "hmmm... I wonder if this guy is the bank robber we're looking for..." I urge you to read the rest of my blog for two reasons. 1: you might enjoy it. 2: you would realize that I am smart enough not to post a plan of a bank robbery I was about to commit on the internet and then to Facebook. Unless this extreme disclosure of my plans is just a clever ploy to throw you off my trail! After all, who in their right minds would post their bank robbery plans on Facebook! no one! this COULDN'T possibly be the guy!!

Confidence Game

I've learned a lot about myself over the last few weeks.

Normally I am very self conscious. I am. Its true. I'm an incredibly shy person who, most times, doesn't think much of himself.

I know it doesn't seem like it most of the time and I certainly know that is NOT how I should think... but it is.

The reason I end up being so social is because I like to push myself. I enjoy doing things that scare the crap out of me. I mean, I'm scare shitless doing it... but... I do it because I know I shouldn't be scared.

Does any of that make sense?

Its like heights. I'm afraid of heights yet, a few years ago, walked to the edge of a cliff. Fear gripped my heart and I was drenched in sweat, but I did it anyway because I knew there was nothing I should be afraid of. Same thing at work. I'll take the lift 20 feet into the air to pull down a TV even though I'm so scared that I can't move my feet once I'm off the ground. I'm afraid, but I shouldn't be, so I do it anyway.

woah

where was I going with this?

Oh yeah... confidence.

I don't usually have it.

I might talk big game sometimes, but that's all it is.... talk.

There are some things that bring out extreme confidence in me, though.

Two things.

Racquetball and Spades.

I wish the two things were, like, talking to women and job interviews... but no.

Racuqetball and Spades.

This weekend we played a game of Spades and, even though my team was losing at the time, I was sure we were going to win. There was no doubt in my mind, even as the other team was doubling us in points, that my team would win. That I would win. Everyone in the room knew it, too. Trust me, I let them know. I talked non-stop for about an hour.... just spewing shit because I knew that no matter what the current situation was, I would win.

I did win, by the way. My team did, anyways. I couldn't have done it without the hard work of The Team.

I had such confidence that it was gushing out of me. It was a good time.

I just wish I could be like that all the time.

There's really no reason that I can't be. I mean, its obviously in me... I'm just scared when I'm not in my element.

That's something I should work on.

I've been saying that my whole life... but this time its different.

New beginings and all that jazz.

Wish me luck!

Click... Click... Boom!

As per your request, here's the story of how I almost got shot in the head.

Let me start this off with the question in the survey: Have you ever almost died? My answer was something along the lines of "yes, I was almost shot in the head once" or something like that...

Now, for those of you who did not grow up as little boys, I can tell you that I have almost died hundreds of times. Seriously. If you were to review the highlights of just Dave On A Bike throughout the years, you'd see me hit by 2 cars (the first left me sprawled on the car's hood when I was about 9, the second left me on the side of a road a bit dazed for a few minutes as the driver drove on as if it never happened.) I almost drowned while attending Summer Camp at the local YMCA when I was 6. I mean, really... from the ages of 8 to about 12 we had neighborhood Stick Wars where we used to fight eachother with tree branches.

Death is not something most young boys consider when they dart in and out of traffic on their way to the comic book store... it just isn't. But I digress...

This is to be the tale of my near demise.

Picture this: Cicily, 1946.. your aunt Lisa and I... er, wait, wrong story... Make that Cape Coral, 1991. I'm 11 years old and my friend Nicky and I are walking across town one Saturday afternoon to grab some lunch at McDonalds. This was not a new thing to us... we did it all the time. The two mile walk was always an adventure. We'd stop in as many stores as we could on the way. Tasting as many free samples in the grocery stores as we could. Once the people serving those tasty little morsels started refusing service, we'd grab a cart and race around the store until we were kicked out, then move to the next retailer. But one Saturday we got sidetracked.

Not too far from our neighborhood Nicky spotted something in the gutter. A smile broke across his face as he realized what it was. A revolver. Badass. Or at least the 11-year-old's version of Badass (probably just "Cool" or something of that ilk.) It was loaded, too. Way cool. Thoughts of food immediately were left behind as we took our new treasure back to our Tree Fort.

Once secure in our hide-out Nicky aimed the gun at a random piece of wood that was waiting to find a use in the fort and squeezed the trigger.

Nothing happened.

He did it again.

Nothing happened.

A bit dissapointed, he relinquished the gun to me. It was suprisingly heavy for being so small. I remember that. I knew it wasn't plastic, but still... it had more wieght than I though it would have. I pulled the trigger while I aimed at imaginary glass bottles. My aim was true as evidenced by the glass-shattering sound Nicky made every time the hammer clicked dully on the dud rounds in the chamber.

Nicky's turn. Only this time he pointed the gun at me.

I wanted none of that, and told him so. My mama didn't raise a Complete fool. A fool yes, but not a complete one.

Nicky laughed it off and pretended to shoot me in the head a few times. Click... click... click... I started to walk away. I was not playing anymore. He just laughed it off saying that the gun was broken, nothing would happen. Click.. .click.. click... I told him I was still leaving, I didn't like him doing that. He aims the gun at his mailbox saying that I was just being a baby. Click.. boom.

The front of his mailbox blew open as the round tore right through it. We both screamed and ran. I went to my house, Nicky to his. After a few minutes my phone rang. It was Nicky telling me to get over to his house, so I did. We told his mom we found the gun, but not that we tried to use it. The police were called and they sent someone to pick up the weapon. I made Nicky give me a Nintendo game to square the fact that he almost shot me.
...
So there you go, folks. I was one trigger pull away from dying before I ever made it to high school.

My feet are cold, but I'm thinking of you.

So here's what I'm thinking...
you and me.
lets run away together.
it doesn't matter where we go
but wherever it is
we can be together.
life doesn't have to be hard
it doesn't have to be complicated.
if i could have anything in the world right now
it would be you.
if i were living a dream
that dream would be with you.
i'm not sure you realize this,
but every time i hear your voice
my heart melts
and ever time i see your face
i lose any thought i may have had.
you are a precious treasure.
...
its true.
i don't make shit like that up.