I'm Serious. I'm Kidding.

I have this story about me waking up on a friend’s couch yesterday afternoon around 4:30 to find a 30 year old white male, half naked, passed out snoring and bloodied lying on the living room floor with a fractured clavicle, but that’s not my story to tell. This is what I can talk about, the only thing I'm good at besides sleeping, and alienating babies. For the time being, I’m feeling happy, alive, and content with life because today begins my favorite part of September, the beginning of the fall TV season. It's a time to fall in love with new shows and new faces and a time to renew your love with the oldies but goodies. With  Breaking Bad’s  heart attack, ART-like drama (especially last night’s) and  Dexter's  I want to break up with you but I only keep watching because I'm waiting for you to break up with me first drama literally a block or two away from their graves, I'm really looking forward to the comedies to relieve some of the stress...

There are only two things in the whole world that when I think about them, they can cause my tear ducts to fill up instantly; the day my dad died, and the death of Selena. Now I have a third. It’s been nine days and I’m not over the death of Cory Monteith and this has weirded* me out as much as it’s probably weirding you out right as you are reading what I can only assume will turn out to be my Cory manifesto. I'm really trying to process why I'm feeling this way.  Every time I tell myself I'm "grieving", I call myself an asshole. I truly can't conceptualize myself grieving someone that I never knew personally. It's so beyond the level of my brain functionality, but at the same time it feels like I am doing it. I’m going to try to figure it out while writing it out. * This document is telling me that “weirded” and “weirding” aren’t words. I can’t deal with that right now Final Draft, let it go, please. I never met Cory. I don’t have or know a friend o...