Tuesday, September 29, 2009


Disclaimer: I ripped this one off in fifteen minutes and didn't bother editing it so this one time: SHUT YOUR GRAMMATICALLY CORRECT COCK CAVES!

So I'm sitting here on the eve of my thirty second birthday and I'm feeling kind of nostalgic and a little melancholy. You know the drill, just kind of thinking about what the previous years have been like and what may be expected. I have to admit that I'm in a pretty good place right now financially and emotionally but I can definately see some clouds on the horizon. I'm sure I'll be able to handle it with the support of my family (my wife and kids) but, unfortunately I'm going to have to be the adult and insert myself into other peoples business who should be acting far more mature than I. I'll cover this in a subsequent post I'm sure. I actually had something completely different that I was going to post tonight but since I'm feeling a little reflective, I'm going to do this instead.

It's always been facinating to me to hear about other peoples high school experiences and how they were so awesome and it would be so cool to see all of those people again. I look through their high school yearbooks at all the comments and at all the pictures of them and their friends and am genuinely surprised that people seem to have enjoyed it so much. You see it's because I absolutely, unquestionably, passionately, hated high school. Honestly, I hated highschool so much that the thought of attending a renunion never even crossed my mind. Out of all the people I knew during that time I can think of about five that I would ever care to speak to again (yes, Kim, you're one of them). Of course my high school experience has a lot to do with my distain for those hallowed halls. That is, besides the condescending teachers and the waste of time that many of the classes were. To keep things relatively brief I'll just hit the high points.

I was adopted for the second time while I was in the eighth grade. While that may be a story for another day it should go without saying that being on the cusp of high school, in a new city, with no friends and a somewhat new family does not a socially adept Admin make. I struggled to fit in, fell in with a bad crowd, dropped out in the second half of grade nine, moved out of my parents house, drugs, alcohol; you know, that old chestnut. In grade ten I faced the academic challenges and found them lacking, fucked around, got put on Ritalin, didn't need it, wheeee high, got a new group of friends who were much better for me but: yay drugs, started dating a girl, settled down and attended class. Grade eleven wasn't bad, perfect attendance, grew into my hotness, still dating the girl, sexy times, less drugs, honour role, job, car etc. Grade twelve was relatively the same with the exception of the girl due to the relationship starting to head south. The  extra semester I had to take due to dropping out for half of grade nine was the shits. Break up / get back together with girl multiple times, school is sucking a hemmroidal asshole, not getting along with parents, dumped before grad, wallow in self pity etc. etc. We've all been here before.

But I did have one class during that extra semester that I really enjoyed. It helped me to release my inner emo and helped to express the stabbyness I was feeling. (It should be noted that I stopped dressing like a greaser in grade ten. That's what we called the somewhat goth/emo/preppy kids) It was a creative writing class and the teacher would pretty much let us do whatever we wanted. Hell, we didn't even have to work in the classroom if we didn't want to. Given that I hated the whole structure of school, this was right up my alley. Of course there were curriculum components that had to be adheared to, but for the most part, we could do as we wished. The only substantial requirement we had was that we had to pick one piece of writing every week and read it to the class. I passed that class with a 96% and I have to say it was probably the grade I was most proud of because I had to earn it. The reason I felt that I earned it? It was the only "A" I ever had to work for up until my Statute Law test to recieve my certification eight years ago.

So with that - and at the risk of looking like a total fuckwad - lets take a look at the inner workings of an eighteen year old emo feeling (but not looking) admin. The transcribed but 100% original and accurate:


you use me
use me for personal gain
always there
always ready
the backup
here to caress you with my words
sooth you with my touch
always put the pieces back together
I'm tired of putting you back together
so tired
so you rape me
again and again
degrading me
stealing my pride
my self esteem
make me feel like dirt
yes you make me feel like dirt
and as I get up from my abuse
you sooth me
and give me back
a measure of what you took
and we live on
then again
you call on me
to perform my tricks
like a dog
I perform
I come when you call
when you're lonely
when you need companionship
and sent away
when your finished
tail between my legs
again I get up
never die
but I wish I could
and again
you treat me like your bitch
fuck me when it suits you
use me like a whore
your words my payment
and I ask you
do I look like your bitch
and you say half jokingly
but only half
you slap me
kick me
just another bitch
and yet
again I put you back together
again with my words
again with my touch
with my feelings like superglue
and all I wish for
is for someone to put me back together
not shatter me
as you do
all I dream
is for someone to touch me
caress me
to give me back
that which I have lost
someone with superglue

Holy fucking drama, man! If I was was wearing eye make up and fish nets on my arms when I wrote that you'd never know how awesome I would become (allow me my delusions people). Honestly, in hindsight, that chunk of pity-party makes me wonder how I ever managed to sack up and move on, but it was how I felt at the time. Now? I couldn't even imagine feeling that way. I've got it way to good. a gorgeous family, good job, and awesome friends (both flesh and virtual) My apologies all,  I didn't mean this as a downer. It is just amazing to me that I could go from that to this in fourteen short years. Actually, I was married with child four years after that lovely sample of angst (although I'm still kind of proud of it). I guess what I'm trying to say is, keep your head up, tomorrow could be all the awesome you're looking for.

StabbyMart: We're kind of sensitive, but we'll fucking stab you if you tell anybody.


  1. I was listening to Weezer as I read that and it fit PERFECTLY! So weird!

    I hated high school, too. It sucked infected donkey balls. Well, except that I sort of semi-liked the academic part. Well, English class and newspaper. That's it. The rest of it could kiss my ass.

    And it is kind of amazing how far a person can go in a short time.

    I? Am Snuggiepants. And I am your virtual friend. You do seem to have a pretty darn good life, admin. Keep it up and happy birthday bitch.

  2. Doran, I adore you. I really do. And like all good Canadians, I too loathed high school. For entirely different reasons but hating high school is still hating high school no matter the reason.

    I liked the writings of your angsty, emo 18 year old self.

    Also, happy birthday you crazy moose-humping son of a bitch!

  3. Happy Birthday fellow "The blog that you are about to view may contain content only suitable for adults."

    Fuck your happy life! At 27 I can still be angsty and depressed as shit goddamn't.

    I'm just kidding. You're one of the lucky ones. Congrats. Maybe one day I'll get there. I may just have to murder and pillage a little first though.

    Oh yeah, I liked that poem.

  4. That's not much different than what I wrote at 18 (though by 19 I was writing racy, sex-laced free verse).
    Hated hated hated high school. I dropped out after my junior year and went to college instead because I was just.so.bored. And miserable. Do you know how stupid it is to be in gifted classes with popular people? They fuck with you twice as much.
    But one class, oh baby. I dropped from Gifted English to Honors, and god DAMN did this teacher rock my world. Aside from lit analysis and what not, she taught us philosophy and tons of other stuff.
    And then, we got to write a short story. That was a big semester project. She added that we could curse as much as we wanted, except for "cunt."
    And I wrote the story of how I had met my best friend, gotten involved in drugs, started selling drugs, and watched him get shot down. I had never had a sanctioned reason to write about that before. And it was amazing and cathartic and I would like to thank Ms. Marton for letting it be okay. She is the reason I still entertain the notion of teaching English and writing.

    And so I send you big hugs and high fives for your birthday, D.

  5. I don't know what it is about teen boy angst, but I LOVE it! Obviously, your macho is ascendant 'cause only a confident man would post it. 'Macho Rising' is actually the best way to start a new birthday year, I've heard. Plus, you'll need it because your Hot Mama won't truck with no wuss.

    Yup - you are a complex blend of stable and insane, and I'm crazy glad I met you!

  6. I share your sentiments toward high school. What a fucking joke that was. I'm also a lot more awesome now than I was then. But I could never hope to be as awesome as you, Admin.
    Happy birthday man!

  7. Dude ... you have my heart.

    This post was fantastic! When I was first invited to join facebook, and I was enlightened as to the merrits of being a member - my response was: Uhh ... it's been my experience that if I have lost touch with someone from my past ... it's for a valid reason. This couldn't be more true for high school. I went from being bullied to being 'the shit' and back to not fitting in during those hateful years... and the bullshit ... I swear the whole purpose was to give you practise in coping with 'cuntsicles' (sooo love this)... this is the only real skill I learned from school. I quit 5 weeks into grade 11 and never returned. Got my grade 12 through correspondence.

    You are all kinds of fabulous! Love the tormented prose ... and A Bee, Birdie 2 Ewe ... (this works way better with pictures :))

  8. Wow. Great post, sir. Seriously.

    My favorite part of "Superglue" is definitely the repetition of "you make me feel like dirt"; feels like it could be a line in "Bohemian Rhapsody" (taking artistic liberty here):

    You make me feel like dirt!
    I make you feel like dirt?
    Yes you make me feel like dirt!
    Mamma mia, fi-ga-ro!

  9. as someone who reads your ramblings with a half-chub, i celebrate your having lived too goddamn long. also you look like a monkey and smell like one too!

    what? you expected a birthday ku?

  10. Happy birthday ya Maple Syrup swilling non-emo bastard!

  11. You're so sessy when you're emo! XOXO

    I think Danica Dragonfly and I had the same high school experience - except my senior year ROCKED hard. My dad moved to California and left me with the house while he was trying to sell it; so yeah, 17-years old, 4 bedroom house w/ a game room and no adult supervision? Good times! I started hanging with the theater crowd instead of the cheerleaders and football players I'd always been "friends" (and I use that term loosely) with and suddenly, life was a whole lot more fun and being popular suddenly didn't matter nearly as much as having a good time...sometimes while naked!

    I hope you had a wonderful, pantsless birthday, IIB.

    PS: Why is there a content warning on here? Did you put it on or did Blogger? Do I have one?

  12. Great post, admin. I can't say I hated high school; I actually kind of liked the academic part, and even though I had no social life to speak of, I was relatively at peace with being a social outcast by then. But like you, I loved creative writing. I would never, never (NEVER!) share my ramblings, so bravo for having the balls--and buddy, that is some seriously deep emo stuff!

    Happiest of happy birthdays, my friend!

  13. I too, hated high school. I speak to 1 person besides my husband from high school. I was tormented. I brought most of it on myself 'cause I was a stupid gossip-y fucking teenager, but it was too late when I figured out I was my own worst enemy and the high school experience was unsalvagable. Oh well. Also? Your poem? Fan-fucking-tastic, my fellow Canadian. I have an entire binder (seriously, a binder, with stickers and kewl phrases written all over it) full of similar evidence.

    Happy Birthday!