Moments I Regret – Introduction


This is the intro I wrote years ago for my book called “Moments I Regret” (which I am still writing – over 100,000 words and growing every day). Reading this reminds me that I do have talent as a writer, even if it seldom appears.

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It’s funny how some memories hang around for a lifetime while others are quickly forgotten, tucked away in some file cabinet in your mind where you’ll never run across them again. Unless, of course, it has a smell associated with it. Then, one day, out of the blue, you get a whiff of that smell and the memory comes flooding back like it happened twenty minutes ago. It’s wild how a smell is such a powerful thing especially since smelling is becoming so much less important in our world.

But going back to memories. Of course, hindsight is 20/20 and all of us realize the mistakes we’ve have made after we’ve made them. Some are huge and life-altering, others not so much. It’s kinda like choosing a line at the grocery store only to find out it’s the slowest or the fastest. No, it probably won’t change the course of your life, but then again, it might.

Sometimes we think about what we would do differently if we had the chance to do it over again. But, of course, we can’t do it over again. So, we sit and dwell on the mistakes we made that are forever living on our memories. Maybe that is the true meaning of life – learning how to live with your mistakes.

Oh, I know.  I hear the advice you are all giving me “But it’s those mistakes that shape the person you are today” or “You learn more from your mistakes that you do your successes” or “There’s nothing you can do about it, so just move on”….

To that I say “Wow. Thank you very much! I’d never thought of that stuff before! Those quick one-liners makes everything all better. I’m now the happiest fucking person alive. Thank you so very much for those great words of wisdom!”

Funny thing about advice; Most of it is total shit. Hello? Do you think I’m that stupid? These people think that uttering some simple cliché will make all the years of pain and regret go away? Shit. I’ve been dwelling on my mistakes for years … analyzing them, agonizing over them, inflating them, deflating them. And here you think you can come along and you got just the thing to cure it all?.

“If it’s meant to be, it’ll happen!” “For every door you close, a window opens!” AHHHHH! I know everybody means well and they are really trying to help. But we live in a “Take a pill” society. We all think that every problem can be miraculously fixed with the flick of a switch. “There. All better. All I had to do was flick that switch. I wondered what the hell it was. Now I see, It’s the ‘all better’ switch”.

Here’s my advice for people who like to give advice: “The best advice you can give is to shut the hell up!”

I’m sorry, I just get pissed with people who give those stupid one-line cliché’s. I mean, don’t get me wrong. Not all advice is bad. After all, most of the advice I give to other people is extremely valuable. The problem is they just don’t want to listen to it. Or their little minds can’t comprehend it. Usually I have to put it into easy terms that their simple minds will understand. I try to come up with a simple line that is easy for them to remember. Something like, er, well, like a cliché, I guess.…

Uh… yeah, so anyway, where was I? Oh yeah, memories.

There are many I have stuck in my mind that I dwell on from time to time. Most, well actually, all of them are regrets that make me go “Why the hell did I do that?” And, of course, I can’t change the past, so I have to be content with just letting them haunt me.

The funny thing is, for the most part, some of these events are actually pretty minor in the big course of things. Were they life-altering events that changed the course of my life? Well… no. Were they huge events that affected many people? Uh… again, no. So, why the hell do I even remember them? Why the hell do I have so much regret over them?

The appropriate answer here is: I don’t know. My only guess is that these memories were stored in the part of my brain that is like the corner display in a department store. You know the ones where they show off the hot new merchandise or an enticing sale item. So, every time my thoughts pass by this spot, I can’t help but stop and notice the memory that was stored there and then I dwell on it all over again.

So, here they are. I call them the ‘moments I regret’. I thought if I write them down, maybe then I can remove them from the display case and throw them out with the rest of the garbage.



Can I Break The Cycle


You know what I hate? I hate how pathetic I am. I hate how I’ve asked out practically every girl under the sun and they all say no and for some reason I still don’t get it in my head that I’m just not the type of person that girls want. I have nothing to offer them. I have no confidence, I have no personality, I’m not even rich or good-looking. I’m just a wart on the face of society. I mean what girl would want to go out with a guy who hates himself? And then the spiral downward starts. The more I hate myself, the more girls don’t want to be with me. Aaaaaand the more girls don’t want to be with me, the more I hate myself. How can I be that  confidence, positive, outgoing person that girls will like when every rejection casts me into deeper isolation and despair?

I suppose the right thing to do is to stop asking.  I need to understand that no one will want to be with me if I don’t even want to be with myself. I guess that’s true. But there is always that hope right? There is always that glimmer that the next person will be smart enough to see past these concrete walls and somehow see the person I really am even when I can’t see it myself. My hope is they will see it, treasure it, understand it and have the power to coax that good person out me. Would that be awesome? And then I could finally flourish and be the person I see in my mind.

Burt that’s not fair. It’s not fair to put all my expectations on someone else to solve my own problems. Besides, no one else has the power to change me anyway. I need to start with myself first. And there goes another amazing girl and I ache all over again. But it’s better to stay silent and invisible and not say anything.  After all, as long as I don’t ask, they can’t say no and that’s the first step in breaking the cycle.

I Hate My Memory


You know what I hate? I hate my how bad my memory is. I can barely remember anything at all.

I watch movies and like a month later I don’t even remember what happened. Sometimes I don’t even remember that I watched the movie. I mean, sometimes it’s nice because then I can watch it over and be amazed again. But if I get into a conversation about it with someone, I can barely remember any of the details.

And I especially hate sequels. In sequels nowadays, you have to remember what happened in the previous episodes in order to understand anything. When the latest Avengers movie came out, I could barely remember what happened in the previous ones. Or worse, I get confused between those and other movies like Batman, Superman, Xmen, whatever. Do I go and watch the movie and try to figure out what’s going on or do I just watch them all over again on video before I see the new one? But that’s like 7 movies, I have to watch. It takes me forever…

The same thing with novels. I’ve read many of the classics, but I can’t remember what the hell happened in any of them. Year ago, I saw the list of the top 100 novels of all time and I felt bad that I never read any of them, so I decided to start reading them. I’ve actually read quite a few of them but then when I go back and look through the list I don’t remember anything about them. I’ve read slaughterhouse five and brave New World and A Tale of Two Cities,  but I can’t remember anything that happens.

If I have a conversation about a novel, I feel like an idiot because I don’t remember anything that happened. I usually just play dumb and say I haven’t read it and that’s not really a lie. After all, if I can’t remember anything, then I haven’t read it.

I meet people for the first time and they tell me their name and 10 minutes later I don’t remember what the hell they’re name is. And worse I see a week later and of course they remember my name but I can’t freaking remember theirs and I feel like an idiot for asking so I just say hi or how are you and somehow work around not even saying their name at all. After that I feel even worse because every time I see them now I know I don’t remember their name and it just gets worse and worse and eventually I start avoiding them because I don’t want to get caught not remembering their name.

Or I meet people and they tell me like they just had a baby on it was a girl and her name is Sophia and I said that’s really awesome. Then a month later, I’m talking to them and they say something about how their kid was sick and I don’t remember whether they had a boy or a girl or the name or even how many kids they have. I don’t want to feel like a freaking idiot so I don’t ask. Eventually I withdrawal from people all together because I don’t know if I’ll say something stupid or something that I should already know.

I’ll get some error on my computer and then I’ll spend the L3 days look it up on Google how to fix it and then I fix it and it’s like awesome I was able to fix that and then six months later the same error happens again and I don’t remember what the hell I did to fix it like a crap I hate that I don’t remember anything

I don’t remember people’s names and birth dates barely even remember what I had for lunch yesterday. It affects my confidence. How can I have a conversation or even just get through the day with a shit memory like mine? I don’t remember any details. I don’t remember anything.

Sorry, got distracted. What was I talking about?


Stepping Aside


You know what I hate?

I hate it when I’m walking down the street or an aisle in a store and someone is walking towards and I just instinctively move out of the way to let them pass. I do it to be courteous, but what I notice more often than not is they don’t do the same for me. They don’t make any effort to make room for me to pass as well. I’m the one that does all the work. If they are walking down the middle of the aisle, they stay in the middle and I have to scrunch up just to avoid a collision. It’s as if they are royalty and I’m the lowly peasant who needs to grovel as they stroll by.

It’s even worse when there are two or three people walking side by side. They don’t even try to move. They don’t go single file. They don’t even smile and say excuse me. They just keep walking side by side as if I’m not even there. For some reason either they don’t care or they somehow just know that I’m the one who will move.

For the longest time I wondered why they don’t even try to make room. Is everybody just rude and arrogant? Does nobody perform a common courtesy anymore?  And then one day I figured it out. They don’t move because somehow they know I will. From the moment we make eye contact yards away and I start making the move, I must send them some nonverbal message that I’ll concede and they don’t have to do a thing.

In other words, it’s my fault. I must somehow show them that they are more important than I and I just move unconsciously. Oh sure, I tell myself that I’m just being nice, but that is not how I feel. I feel like I am a worthless pathetic loser, a wimp, an quivering fool who does not have enough confidence to look people in the eye as we pass by. And I hate that I just do it without even thinking.

And you know what’s worse? I hate that I even care about it. Why does it bother me whether they move of the way or I do it? We both have to get by, why do I take it as a personal insult or worse, a personal failure to be the one who has to move? Why do I make myself feel like I am inferior because I decide to be nice?  I hate myself for doing it, I hate myself for caring about it, and I hate myself for feeling bad about it.

Shout Out!


I hate me! I hate me! I hate me! I hate me!

I hate everything about me. I hate who I am. I hate how I look. I hate what I think. I hate how I feel. I hate my history. I hate my job. I hate how I act. I have what I say. I hate what I don’t say. I hate my traits. I hate my fears. I hate my memories. I hate my thoughts. I hate my life. I hate me.


So what now?