It's been nearly a year since I've written to you. Nothing of any real importance has happened to me in the past year. My life seems to have entered some kind of weird buddhist loop where I just keep living the same stupid events over and over. Getting drunk, taking pills, buying more shit I don't need, going on dates with horrible people, etc. I still feel alone. I still feel contempt for almost every other living person. I still wish I had a real Shakie Wilcox kitty, or something else that I could cuddle with while I watch blu-ray movies on my Playstation 3 and LCD HDTV. I still live in Connecticut, but work in Manhattan. I've worked at a couple different agencies over the past year. Everyone in New York is such a fucking asshole. But I guess you could say the same about Connecticut.
I went to the gym the other night. I've been trying to get into a schedule where I go to the gym directly from the train station, before I go home. There was an extraordinary number of douchebags there. More than usual, it seemed. I keep having all these stupid fantasies about the gym, that I think about when I'm doing my cardio workout. And they're not the normal fantasies most dudes have when they're at the gym, like ones involving the sweaty girl next to me, and maybe the slightly less-cute one next to her that I'm trying to secretly look at through a series of mirrors on the gym walls. No, not fantasies like that. It's more like I've kind of felt I want to try to get into a fight or something. Just let some meathead beat the shit out of me in front of all these hot girls, like some kind of smartass nerd-martyr. Here's my fantasy from the other night, inspired by some of the usual characters I see at the gym, in detail:
I pull into a parking space far away from the gym, next to a Cadillac Escalade SUV that's slightly over the line on my side. I open my door, slamming it as hard as I can into the Escalade, leaving a noticeable dent. The alarm goes off, so I pull out of the parking spot and find another one on the other side of the lot. No one sees me. I go into the gym and set my iPod Nano to "gym bro siqq mix." I start doing my weights, trying my hardest but ultimately not reaching my goals because I'm weak. This jacked asshole on the opposite side of the machine from me keeps slamming the weights at the end of his sets. I really hate when people do that. It's horrible gym-ettiquete. And he keeps doing it. Across the gym I hear this blonde girl laughing hysterically every two seconds. She's talking to this black dude who I guess is really funny. She keeps laughing, filling the enormous gym with the sound of her ridiculous laughter. I swear, she does this every time I'm there. She has the loudest laugher I've ever heard. So, she's laughing, the moron next to me keeps dropping the weights on the machine loudly, the music playing loudly on the gym's speakers is Aqua's "Barbie Girl" (I can still hear it over my headphones) and I feel like I'm about to LOSE MY FUCKING MIND. I start laughing as I walk past the weight-slamming dude. I puff my chest out and tilt my head back, my arms flexed in front of me, walking really close to him, getting all in his way. He pretends to ignore me, then does another set. SO STRONG! He's wearing a super tiny tank-top and a gold chain (you gotta have the chain brah). Of course he slams the weights loudly when he's done. And I can STILL hear that blonde moron laughing in the background. I make a lound grunt and stare at the guy. "UNNNHH!" He wipes his brow and takes a few steps towards me. "Hey guy, you mind givin me some room?" he asks me, loudly. I respond with a serious of grunts, flexing my arms and kissing my biceps. I stare at him and speak obnoxiously: "Nah. Guy." I then brush by him, walking slowly, puffing my chest out again. The weight machine (triceps pull-down) behind him is unoccupied, so i use it, setting the weight at 40 pounds and grunting and slamming the weights and being a fucking jerk. "UNNNGGGHH. YEAH! PUSH IT! THIS IS MY HOUSE BABY! NOBODY TOUGHER!" I scream, as I pretend to struggle with the weight (I'm not really pretending). The meathead comes up from behind, and taps me on the shoulder, hard. "You. Get the fuck out of here. Now." I slam the weights down, and turn around, taking in my surroundings. People are starting to stare, a few girls are giggling (one of them is pretty fat), and this dude in front of me is all red in the face and pissed off. I puff out my chest and put my hands on my hips. "No. YOU get out of here. FAGGOT!" Before I can gauge his reaction, I feel his fist in my face, and can feel something breaking. I fall to the ground, blood pouring out of my nose. I start laughing, and look around for a weapon within arm's reach. Luckily, there's an extra tricep pulldown rope on the floor, carelessly left there by some asshole. I quickly reach it and grab it, and swing it up as hard as I can, right into my attacker's groin. He lets out a loud yelp and steps backwards, allowing me to get back on my feet. "OHHH SHIT! I just hit you in the BALLS SON!" I scream, blood pouring from my nose. The dude is clutching his groin, and there is a crowd of people gathering. I can see personal trainers and gym employees starting to run towards us. I start swinging the tricep rope wildly above my head. "Motherfuckers get back! Check yourself!" One of the personal trainers comes at me and tries to grab me, so I clock him in his face with my mighty rope. Another sweaty meathead with a tanktop grabs me from behind, so I swing the rope backwards, hitting him hard in the ear. He releases me, and I close my eyes and lunge forward, swinging blindly and wildly and laughing like a goddamn maniac. Another gym employee, this douchey-looking guy who I kind of hate, just because, rushes me and tries to punch me. I deliver a powerful kick in his gut, rendering him a quivering pile of gym employee asshole. I tell you, I have become an unstoppable force, droppin many suckas as they try to disarm me. Women are screaming, I'm laughing, people are scrambling all over the place, some people are running towards the gym's exits, and more men are trying to attack me from all sides. I'm swinging my rope all over the place, clockin dudes in they heads, bringin them to their KNEES, spitting blood all over the place. One woman begs me to stop and I HISS at her. The meathead that started it all seems to have disappeared, until suddenly I find myself in a headlock, trapped in his enormous arms. He's holding me back, and some other bro starts punching me in the stomach, as I laugh and try to wriggle free, to no avail. Then the master meathead throws me down to the ground, and kicks me in the kidneys. After that, they all swarm me. Personal trainers, fat girls, scary muscular black dudes...all manner of gym clientele. It's like a pack of hyenas, ripping apart a gazelle or something. People are kicking me, punching me, spitting on me. I open my eyes and all I can see is blood. I feel things breaking. I feel like I'm turning to liquid. I feel my brains being squashed out of me. I feel my
By this time, I realize I had done an extra seventeen minutes of cardio. I suddenly came to, realizing where I was and what I was doing. I seemed twice as sweaty as I usually was after my cardio workout. I stepped off of the machine and walked, wobbly and exhausted, to the locker room, glaring at all those around me. The entire cast of characters was there. The annoying blonde, that douchebag slamming the weights, and some fat ladies. I sighed and called it a night. Fantasizing about baiting them into murdering me was pretty exhausting. But I'm beginning to think that my weirdo fantasies might be the best workout motivator ever.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
Tuesday, March 28, 2006
I've awoken.
I've been working at an agency in Manhattan for some time now. It feels like a long time. Feels different. Feels like my life has changed drastically, like my old life was just an old movie or series of television episodes that I vaguely remember. I commute from Connecticut to NYC on the train every day. It's completely draining. Wasn't so bad at first, but now I feel like I'm in a constant daze, from when I leave my house at 7am, to when I return, usually about 8pm. People-watching on the trains and subways almost makes up for it though. So many fascinating specimens to be studied, in and out of the city.
Most recently I've made the disturbing observation that many of those around me, and myself as well, seem to be becoming more and more robotic with every passing day. I know that the goal is a completely automated, convenient, functioning society, but I feel like I've just noticed this...like I'm looking in from the outside. What I mean is, we're turning ourselves into machines, especially with the way we're constantly plugged in: cellphones, sidekicks, PDAs, laptops, gameboys, ipods, PSPs, PMPs, etc. What's alarming to me is the way we are roboticizing ourselves...almost becoming like the 'borg' from Star Trek...when we have these wireless bluetooth headsets constantly attached to our heads, blinking with their little LEDs, wirelessly communicating with unseen handsets. And the 'voice dial' function forces us to speak almost digitally. I realized this when I tried to call a coworker while on the train.
"Call Anthony."
>> DID YOU SAY, CALL...ANDY?
"No. Call Anthony."
>> DID YOU SAY, CALL...Erin?
"No. Call Ann-thuh-nee."
>> DID YOU SAY, CALL...ANTHONY?
"YES!"
>>CONNECTING.
I've watched well-dressed men on their way to Wall Street speaking loudly and moronically into their headsets, making it look like they're shouting into the air, at no one in particular. "Call Jessica. Call JESS-UH-KAH." I smile and stare at them, then look around to see someone else, maybe another man, with a wireless headset on one ear and a regular cell phone shoved up against his other ear, using his free hand to stuff a Dunkin Donuts bagel into his mouth.
It made me sick to really look at myself and see what I was becoming. I mean. I guess I've always considered myself to be less than human in some ways, but now I feel it's happening to all of those around me as well. The way people speak into their cell phones, so that those little robots can understand them. They speak slowly, enunciating every syllable. We are in effect simplifying, digitizing, dehumanizing our speech so that our electronic tools can better understand us. But now I'm wondering if I just need a better bluetooth headset. Or maybe get a T-Mobile sidekick so that I can be on AOL Instant Messenger during my entire commute, just in case someone, a friend or something, MIGHT want to talk to me. I don't know. But I am making more money than I ever have in my life, so I might as well buy these things and find out.
I've been working at an agency in Manhattan for some time now. It feels like a long time. Feels different. Feels like my life has changed drastically, like my old life was just an old movie or series of television episodes that I vaguely remember. I commute from Connecticut to NYC on the train every day. It's completely draining. Wasn't so bad at first, but now I feel like I'm in a constant daze, from when I leave my house at 7am, to when I return, usually about 8pm. People-watching on the trains and subways almost makes up for it though. So many fascinating specimens to be studied, in and out of the city.
Most recently I've made the disturbing observation that many of those around me, and myself as well, seem to be becoming more and more robotic with every passing day. I know that the goal is a completely automated, convenient, functioning society, but I feel like I've just noticed this...like I'm looking in from the outside. What I mean is, we're turning ourselves into machines, especially with the way we're constantly plugged in: cellphones, sidekicks, PDAs, laptops, gameboys, ipods, PSPs, PMPs, etc. What's alarming to me is the way we are roboticizing ourselves...almost becoming like the 'borg' from Star Trek...when we have these wireless bluetooth headsets constantly attached to our heads, blinking with their little LEDs, wirelessly communicating with unseen handsets. And the 'voice dial' function forces us to speak almost digitally. I realized this when I tried to call a coworker while on the train.
"Call Anthony."
>> DID YOU SAY, CALL...ANDY?
"No. Call Anthony."
>> DID YOU SAY, CALL...Erin?
"No. Call Ann-thuh-nee."
>> DID YOU SAY, CALL...ANTHONY?
"YES!"
>>CONNECTING.
I've watched well-dressed men on their way to Wall Street speaking loudly and moronically into their headsets, making it look like they're shouting into the air, at no one in particular. "Call Jessica. Call JESS-UH-KAH." I smile and stare at them, then look around to see someone else, maybe another man, with a wireless headset on one ear and a regular cell phone shoved up against his other ear, using his free hand to stuff a Dunkin Donuts bagel into his mouth.
It made me sick to really look at myself and see what I was becoming. I mean. I guess I've always considered myself to be less than human in some ways, but now I feel it's happening to all of those around me as well. The way people speak into their cell phones, so that those little robots can understand them. They speak slowly, enunciating every syllable. We are in effect simplifying, digitizing, dehumanizing our speech so that our electronic tools can better understand us. But now I'm wondering if I just need a better bluetooth headset. Or maybe get a T-Mobile sidekick so that I can be on AOL Instant Messenger during my entire commute, just in case someone, a friend or something, MIGHT want to talk to me. I don't know. But I am making more money than I ever have in my life, so I might as well buy these things and find out.
Tuesday, December 06, 2005
chapter XVIXIXV
I've been putting this off for about a year now. I kept lying to myself, hoping things would change, hoping it didn't really happen, hoping I'm not as much of a bad person as she told me I was, hoping it was all a mistake... a misunderstanding. A quick recap: I met this girl when I was single last year, at a party. I had a date with her and fell in love nearly instantly. She was probably one of the best women I've ever met in my life. And I kept it all to myself. You'll notice there are some huge gaps in my bloggery last year. My life hit a ridiculous high point, then spiraled down into depths of emotional shit.
So. I met this girl. This girl, this woman, this savior. Maybe you remember the 'first date' at the Chinese restaurant. Everything started better than I could ever imagine. For a while, I actually considered that this girl was an angel from heaven, sent down to save me from the world (and myself). We were inseparable for nearly two months. We'd talk on the phone every weeknight for about two hours. We'd spend every weekend together. We'd watch movies, play videogames, go on walks, go shopping, go out to eat, try cooking together (we were both terrible), go to the city, do everything. It seemed like those two months lasted a year. We crammed so many good memories (I can barely remember any of them, except for what I captured with my digital camera and camcorder) into such a short amount of time. Oh how I loved my angel. I knew that it was all moving very quickly, and that I'd never felt like this about anyone before (maybe I just finally allowed myself to?) and that there was so much about myself that I was afraid she'd find out and hate and she'd realize what a jerk I was and realize that I'm just a husk of a man, no soul, no real care for anyone in the world, just for myself and my possessions, and .... I tried so hard to change all that. Change for her. And I was changing. I could feel myself becoming a better person. More sensitive, a better listener, more in-touch with myself and with others. But it all turned to shit, and deep deep down, I knew it would all along.
Things started to fall apart after week 7. I can't remember what exactly set it off. I think it was a number of things. I frantically tried to put everything back together, but ultimately failed. I do remember being stressed out about something at work (ironic, because the "old me" usually didn't care enough to get stressed out, but I was trying to care more), and I might have snapped at her, or been rude, or just been distant. We had a couple of fights. We made up, but I feel like I can remember telling her a lot of things that she probably wanted to hear (that might not have really been true). Things about my feelings. I knew that I cared for her a lot, but maybe I could just never be the person she needed me to be, no matter how hard I tried to change myself...no matter how hard I tried to allow her to change me and save me. Things finally came to a head one Friday night, where she told me over the phone that she didn't think we should see each other anymore, that things were becoming too hard, we moved too fast, she didn't know what she was doing and she made a mistake by being with me. I begged her to just let me take her to dinner one last time. She reluctantly accepted after I pleaded to her for a good while, telling her I just wanted a proper goodbye. I know she didn't really want to, but she was such a sweetheart that she decided to do it for me. But I had every intention of saving that relationship. I told her I'd pick her up Saturday evening. I plotted all night and all day, preparing myself for a difficult confrontation, for an argument that I must absolutely win if I was to remain happy. She was too amazing to not fight for. I had to let her know it.
I picked her up the following night, and we sat in an awkard silence as I drove us to the location of our first magical date: my favorite Chinese restaurant. "B, I'm not really in the mood for Chinese food. I have a bit of a stomach ache and I'd rather not eat here." But I somehow convinced her that we should eat there, as I was desperately trying to connect with her and make her remember all the things that she liked about me. The food was excellent, but dinner was horrible. We barely spoke. She didn't eat anything. Just pushed expensive food (that I ordered for her) around her plate with her chopsticks. It looked as if she was witholding tears and didn't know what to say to me. I didn't know what to say either. I kept trying to make jokes and failing. I kept trying to remind her of instances from the previous seven weeks when we had such wonderful times. She would just say "Yeah, I know B...it's just...it's just..." and I'd try to get her to really tell me what was wrong so I could fix it, so I could fix myself and repair our relationship and be perfect for her and save everything and be happy with her and with myself together forever. It wasn't working. It was so painful for both of us. Suddenly, as the waiter brought me the check and a few fortune cookies, I thought I had a brilliant idea. I thought I could surely make her laugh, just as I had on our very first date, at that very same restaurant at the same table (which I requested and made us wait for fifteen minutes for them to clear it). I smiled as I opened the fortune cookies, quietly reading the fortunes in a thick Chinese accent, flipping them over and reading the little "Learn Chinese" translations on the back.
"Haha! Look at this one! Ah, your ah preenceeples mean ah more to youuu than any mahney or ah successs! Hmm. No. Let's learn Chinese! 'Delicious:' Hao-chi. Howwww cheeee! Here's another. You have ah the rayyre abeelity to recognize abeelity in ah othas! What? More translations! 'Chicken:' Ji. Jeeee! Oh my god. This one is 'airplane' and it is Fei-ji. Airplane Chicken? Hahaha! 'Spinach:' Bo-cai. Booow kaaaaaiiiiuh!
I grew panicky as I could see how uncomfortable she was. My voice grew louder and I laughed nervously. I ran out of cookies. "Ahem. Um excuse me? Sir?" I asked, loudly. "B! Stop it!" she begged me, but I just motioned her away, as if to say "Don't worry, I've got it under control baby, I'll get you more cookies and I'll make you laugh and you'll forgive me for whatever it was I did, and everthing will be okay." "Can we have some more fortune cookies please?" I ask. "Ah yes, ahh of course!" He said, bringing me another handful. I continued to open cookie after cookie, reading the fortunes to her, trying too hard to be funny and to make her laugh. God, why wasn't she laughing? Tears started trickling down her cheeks. I opened the last cookie, my hand shaking, slowly reading the Chinese translation in my horrible Chinese accent, and then she interupted me, exploding: "-STOP IT B! Just please fucking STOP IT!" I stared at her, feeling like I'd just been punched in the chest. "What?? I was just trying to make you laugh? What's wrong?" Everyone in the restaurant knew that there was some drama at our table, but pretended to ignore it.
She finally told me what was wrong. With me. She told me I was a selfish jerk, only concerned with myself. Never placing others before me. She told me I was rude. I was cheap. I was stupid and easily confused and sometimes she was suprised that I even went to college. I wasn't nearly as funny as I thought I was. I was out of shape. I was bad in bed. I had problems with intimacy. (This was true. I preferred sex over a computer interface rather than a human one. I was so used to seeing sex on a computer monitor when viewing my horrendous internet porno collection, that I didn't know what to do when I was actually with a real woman. I was actually somewhat terrified of physical intimacy.) I was overly critical and my standards and expectations were too high. I was greedy. I didn't work hard at all for the success that I have had. I didn't appreciate anything. I cared about material things more than I cared about people. And she went on, until we were both sitting there, staring at each other, tears streaming down our faces. She said she's never met anyone like me. She said I needed help, badly. She said she tried to help me, to save me, but she couldn't. She said there's nothing inside me. That I'm not there.
I stared at her, trying so hard not to cry. Trying to hold it all in. It hurt so bad. She hurt me so badly. I felt like my heart had completely stopped beating. There was just this big empty space in my chest, but it was filled with hurt. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. God, it hurt so bad. How could she? I loved her. I tried so hard for her. Slowly, I forced some words out to her. The only words I could speak. "...Fuck you." I said, glaring, "You're not my fucking soulmate." She was gasping quietly as she cried. I looked at the angel once last time. Looked at my missed chance for salvation. I wanted to get on my knees. Beg her to love me. To fix me. But she couldn't help me. There was nothing more that could be done. Nothing could be saved. It didn't matter if we had dated for two months or for ten years. It was over. "I hate you. You're dead to me," I told her. I then stood up, wiped my eyes, threw all of the cash in my wallet onto the table (I'm not sure if it was even enough) and walked away, as she sobbed behind me.
That was a year ago.
I've been putting this off for about a year now. I kept lying to myself, hoping things would change, hoping it didn't really happen, hoping I'm not as much of a bad person as she told me I was, hoping it was all a mistake... a misunderstanding. A quick recap: I met this girl when I was single last year, at a party. I had a date with her and fell in love nearly instantly. She was probably one of the best women I've ever met in my life. And I kept it all to myself. You'll notice there are some huge gaps in my bloggery last year. My life hit a ridiculous high point, then spiraled down into depths of emotional shit.
So. I met this girl. This girl, this woman, this savior. Maybe you remember the 'first date' at the Chinese restaurant. Everything started better than I could ever imagine. For a while, I actually considered that this girl was an angel from heaven, sent down to save me from the world (and myself). We were inseparable for nearly two months. We'd talk on the phone every weeknight for about two hours. We'd spend every weekend together. We'd watch movies, play videogames, go on walks, go shopping, go out to eat, try cooking together (we were both terrible), go to the city, do everything. It seemed like those two months lasted a year. We crammed so many good memories (I can barely remember any of them, except for what I captured with my digital camera and camcorder) into such a short amount of time. Oh how I loved my angel. I knew that it was all moving very quickly, and that I'd never felt like this about anyone before (maybe I just finally allowed myself to?) and that there was so much about myself that I was afraid she'd find out and hate and she'd realize what a jerk I was and realize that I'm just a husk of a man, no soul, no real care for anyone in the world, just for myself and my possessions, and .... I tried so hard to change all that. Change for her. And I was changing. I could feel myself becoming a better person. More sensitive, a better listener, more in-touch with myself and with others. But it all turned to shit, and deep deep down, I knew it would all along.
Things started to fall apart after week 7. I can't remember what exactly set it off. I think it was a number of things. I frantically tried to put everything back together, but ultimately failed. I do remember being stressed out about something at work (ironic, because the "old me" usually didn't care enough to get stressed out, but I was trying to care more), and I might have snapped at her, or been rude, or just been distant. We had a couple of fights. We made up, but I feel like I can remember telling her a lot of things that she probably wanted to hear (that might not have really been true). Things about my feelings. I knew that I cared for her a lot, but maybe I could just never be the person she needed me to be, no matter how hard I tried to change myself...no matter how hard I tried to allow her to change me and save me. Things finally came to a head one Friday night, where she told me over the phone that she didn't think we should see each other anymore, that things were becoming too hard, we moved too fast, she didn't know what she was doing and she made a mistake by being with me. I begged her to just let me take her to dinner one last time. She reluctantly accepted after I pleaded to her for a good while, telling her I just wanted a proper goodbye. I know she didn't really want to, but she was such a sweetheart that she decided to do it for me. But I had every intention of saving that relationship. I told her I'd pick her up Saturday evening. I plotted all night and all day, preparing myself for a difficult confrontation, for an argument that I must absolutely win if I was to remain happy. She was too amazing to not fight for. I had to let her know it.
I picked her up the following night, and we sat in an awkard silence as I drove us to the location of our first magical date: my favorite Chinese restaurant. "B, I'm not really in the mood for Chinese food. I have a bit of a stomach ache and I'd rather not eat here." But I somehow convinced her that we should eat there, as I was desperately trying to connect with her and make her remember all the things that she liked about me. The food was excellent, but dinner was horrible. We barely spoke. She didn't eat anything. Just pushed expensive food (that I ordered for her) around her plate with her chopsticks. It looked as if she was witholding tears and didn't know what to say to me. I didn't know what to say either. I kept trying to make jokes and failing. I kept trying to remind her of instances from the previous seven weeks when we had such wonderful times. She would just say "Yeah, I know B...it's just...it's just..." and I'd try to get her to really tell me what was wrong so I could fix it, so I could fix myself and repair our relationship and be perfect for her and save everything and be happy with her and with myself together forever. It wasn't working. It was so painful for both of us. Suddenly, as the waiter brought me the check and a few fortune cookies, I thought I had a brilliant idea. I thought I could surely make her laugh, just as I had on our very first date, at that very same restaurant at the same table (which I requested and made us wait for fifteen minutes for them to clear it). I smiled as I opened the fortune cookies, quietly reading the fortunes in a thick Chinese accent, flipping them over and reading the little "Learn Chinese" translations on the back.
"Haha! Look at this one! Ah, your ah preenceeples mean ah more to youuu than any mahney or ah successs! Hmm. No. Let's learn Chinese! 'Delicious:' Hao-chi. Howwww cheeee! Here's another. You have ah the rayyre abeelity to recognize abeelity in ah othas! What? More translations! 'Chicken:' Ji. Jeeee! Oh my god. This one is 'airplane' and it is Fei-ji. Airplane Chicken? Hahaha! 'Spinach:' Bo-cai. Booow kaaaaaiiiiuh!
I grew panicky as I could see how uncomfortable she was. My voice grew louder and I laughed nervously. I ran out of cookies. "Ahem. Um excuse me? Sir?" I asked, loudly. "B! Stop it!" she begged me, but I just motioned her away, as if to say "Don't worry, I've got it under control baby, I'll get you more cookies and I'll make you laugh and you'll forgive me for whatever it was I did, and everthing will be okay." "Can we have some more fortune cookies please?" I ask. "Ah yes, ahh of course!" He said, bringing me another handful. I continued to open cookie after cookie, reading the fortunes to her, trying too hard to be funny and to make her laugh. God, why wasn't she laughing? Tears started trickling down her cheeks. I opened the last cookie, my hand shaking, slowly reading the Chinese translation in my horrible Chinese accent, and then she interupted me, exploding: "-STOP IT B! Just please fucking STOP IT!" I stared at her, feeling like I'd just been punched in the chest. "What?? I was just trying to make you laugh? What's wrong?" Everyone in the restaurant knew that there was some drama at our table, but pretended to ignore it.
She finally told me what was wrong. With me. She told me I was a selfish jerk, only concerned with myself. Never placing others before me. She told me I was rude. I was cheap. I was stupid and easily confused and sometimes she was suprised that I even went to college. I wasn't nearly as funny as I thought I was. I was out of shape. I was bad in bed. I had problems with intimacy. (This was true. I preferred sex over a computer interface rather than a human one. I was so used to seeing sex on a computer monitor when viewing my horrendous internet porno collection, that I didn't know what to do when I was actually with a real woman. I was actually somewhat terrified of physical intimacy.) I was overly critical and my standards and expectations were too high. I was greedy. I didn't work hard at all for the success that I have had. I didn't appreciate anything. I cared about material things more than I cared about people. And she went on, until we were both sitting there, staring at each other, tears streaming down our faces. She said she's never met anyone like me. She said I needed help, badly. She said she tried to help me, to save me, but she couldn't. She said there's nothing inside me. That I'm not there.
I stared at her, trying so hard not to cry. Trying to hold it all in. It hurt so bad. She hurt me so badly. I felt like my heart had completely stopped beating. There was just this big empty space in my chest, but it was filled with hurt. I tried to speak, but nothing came out. God, it hurt so bad. How could she? I loved her. I tried so hard for her. Slowly, I forced some words out to her. The only words I could speak. "...Fuck you." I said, glaring, "You're not my fucking soulmate." She was gasping quietly as she cried. I looked at the angel once last time. Looked at my missed chance for salvation. I wanted to get on my knees. Beg her to love me. To fix me. But she couldn't help me. There was nothing more that could be done. Nothing could be saved. It didn't matter if we had dated for two months or for ten years. It was over. "I hate you. You're dead to me," I told her. I then stood up, wiped my eyes, threw all of the cash in my wallet onto the table (I'm not sure if it was even enough) and walked away, as she sobbed behind me.
That was a year ago.
Thursday, November 10, 2005
some confessions:
I've been really busy lately with new experiences (new job in NYC, etc), so I've been a bit behind on transcribing every major and minor event in my life for you during the past few months. Next-up, I'll tell you about my horrible heart break. Absolutely brutal for me and hilarious for you. But first, there are a couple of details I left out regarding the events leading up to the firing from my job.
About two months before I completely doomed myself at work, I became completely obsessed with Robocop. This had always been one of my favorite movies as a child, but for some reason while watching it when I was all messed up on percocets and cough syrup (I'm not really that much of a drug user - except for the chronic, son, but I was really depressed that night and decided to whip up some kind of horrible cocktail to numb the pain. Or was it to numb the feeling of numbness...to make myself feel something?), the film seemed EXTRA magical (and comical) to me. For almost three weeks at work, I became obnoxiously enamored with Robocop. I constantly invited people at the office (especially girls) to come back to my apartment and watch Robocop I or II with me (Robocop III was pure, PG-13 rated garbage. Stupid fucking Japanese robot ninja). I made a Robocop wallpaper for my work computer's desktop. I bought a bunch of old Robocop action figures off of ebay and decorated my cube with them. I think people started get really frustrated with me at work, as I started to talk like Robocop a lot (and think it was funny) and even behave like him at inappropriate times (one time when new clients were touring the office). I'd interrupt people when they were mingling in the kitchen in the morning: "COME QUIETLY OR THERE WILL BE TROUBLE" and then they'd look at me blankly, as I made robo-motions, all slow and with sound effects, and I'd list to them my prime directives: "SERVE THE PUBLIC TRUST, PROTECT THE INNOCENT, UPHOLD THE LAW." Once I saw my creative director in the bathroom, about to use the urinal, and I walked slowly and loudly up behind him, and then announced "YOUR MOVE, CREEP." In my best Robocop voice. He laughed nervously, but I'm pretty sure he couldn't pee with me standing there, so after staring at the back of his head and making whirring noises for like twenty more seconds, I left the bathroom so he could piss.
I started slacking on my responsibilities more than ever, and others had to work twice as hard to make up for the work I wasn't doing. More than once, I'd get fed up with a project (after finally settling down to work on it for about fifteen minutes) in the early afternoon, and I'd just get up, walk out the front door, and go home and play videogames for the rest of the day. When people would ask me where I went and how much work did I get done on those layouts, I'd just say I had a horrible stomachache but couldn't find any of my superiors to tell them I had to go home, or that I sent an email but I don't know why they didn't get it, or that I had a family emergency. One time I almost slipped up and told one of the project managers, "Look, those Nazis hiding in my Xbox aren't going to kill themselves, now are they?" But I just apologized and said I'd stay late to make up for the work I didn't get done. But more often than not, one of my coworkers had already done that to cover my ass.
People started avoiding me, not even making small-talk in the kitchen in the morning. I'd go in there to get some coffee and have to listen to them talk about last night's episode of "Lost" or talk about some new restaurant or "Will and Grace" or FOOTBALL or SPORTS CARS or computer technology, new ipods, who's engaged, who's pregnant, who's buying a house, who left which company, who's the new VP of some fucking stupid ad agency we work with, talk talk talk talk talk about NOTHING. I'd get so sick to my stomach. The only way to remedy the situation was to pull out some more Robocop talk, loudly interrupting them: "SOMEWHERE THERE IS A CRIME HAPPENING," and leave the kitchen slowly, leaving them quiet and confused. Oh, also one day when I had a cold I spit a mouthful of my saliva into the water cooler when I was changing the bottles.
I've been really busy lately with new experiences (new job in NYC, etc), so I've been a bit behind on transcribing every major and minor event in my life for you during the past few months. Next-up, I'll tell you about my horrible heart break. Absolutely brutal for me and hilarious for you. But first, there are a couple of details I left out regarding the events leading up to the firing from my job.
About two months before I completely doomed myself at work, I became completely obsessed with Robocop. This had always been one of my favorite movies as a child, but for some reason while watching it when I was all messed up on percocets and cough syrup (I'm not really that much of a drug user - except for the chronic, son, but I was really depressed that night and decided to whip up some kind of horrible cocktail to numb the pain. Or was it to numb the feeling of numbness...to make myself feel something?), the film seemed EXTRA magical (and comical) to me. For almost three weeks at work, I became obnoxiously enamored with Robocop. I constantly invited people at the office (especially girls) to come back to my apartment and watch Robocop I or II with me (Robocop III was pure, PG-13 rated garbage. Stupid fucking Japanese robot ninja). I made a Robocop wallpaper for my work computer's desktop. I bought a bunch of old Robocop action figures off of ebay and decorated my cube with them. I think people started get really frustrated with me at work, as I started to talk like Robocop a lot (and think it was funny) and even behave like him at inappropriate times (one time when new clients were touring the office). I'd interrupt people when they were mingling in the kitchen in the morning: "COME QUIETLY OR THERE WILL BE TROUBLE" and then they'd look at me blankly, as I made robo-motions, all slow and with sound effects, and I'd list to them my prime directives: "SERVE THE PUBLIC TRUST, PROTECT THE INNOCENT, UPHOLD THE LAW." Once I saw my creative director in the bathroom, about to use the urinal, and I walked slowly and loudly up behind him, and then announced "YOUR MOVE, CREEP." In my best Robocop voice. He laughed nervously, but I'm pretty sure he couldn't pee with me standing there, so after staring at the back of his head and making whirring noises for like twenty more seconds, I left the bathroom so he could piss.
I started slacking on my responsibilities more than ever, and others had to work twice as hard to make up for the work I wasn't doing. More than once, I'd get fed up with a project (after finally settling down to work on it for about fifteen minutes) in the early afternoon, and I'd just get up, walk out the front door, and go home and play videogames for the rest of the day. When people would ask me where I went and how much work did I get done on those layouts, I'd just say I had a horrible stomachache but couldn't find any of my superiors to tell them I had to go home, or that I sent an email but I don't know why they didn't get it, or that I had a family emergency. One time I almost slipped up and told one of the project managers, "Look, those Nazis hiding in my Xbox aren't going to kill themselves, now are they?" But I just apologized and said I'd stay late to make up for the work I didn't get done. But more often than not, one of my coworkers had already done that to cover my ass.
People started avoiding me, not even making small-talk in the kitchen in the morning. I'd go in there to get some coffee and have to listen to them talk about last night's episode of "Lost" or talk about some new restaurant or "Will and Grace" or FOOTBALL or SPORTS CARS or computer technology, new ipods, who's engaged, who's pregnant, who's buying a house, who left which company, who's the new VP of some fucking stupid ad agency we work with, talk talk talk talk talk about NOTHING. I'd get so sick to my stomach. The only way to remedy the situation was to pull out some more Robocop talk, loudly interrupting them: "SOMEWHERE THERE IS A CRIME HAPPENING," and leave the kitchen slowly, leaving them quiet and confused. Oh, also one day when I had a cold I spit a mouthful of my saliva into the water cooler when I was changing the bottles.
Thursday, September 22, 2005
Like I said earlier, most of this year was spent in a weird emotional haze, and it took a huge toll on both my social life and my professional life (ultimately resulting in me losing my job of nearly four years). This haze continued well into my unemployed period, or as I like to refer to it, my "blue period." Overall, the blue period was pretty awesome. Finding myself with zero responsibilitites, I quickly delved into a world of schedule-less decadence. Staying up all night playing video games, sleeping in all day, playing more video games, smoking a bunch of pot that I bought off this awesome fat Puerto Rican dude that I always see at the little bodega I sometimes buy groceries at. I know I should have spent that time absorbed in self-reflection and trying to get my resume and portfolio together so I could get a new job. I mean, that's what all my family and friends told me to do. But I bought a bunch of playstation games and a couple bottles of really good tequila instead. Sometimes I wonder if it's even possible to "find myself," because I'm not even so sure that there's anything to find.
The blue period turned sour fairly quickly. I lost track of time, and day and night slipped into each other without me noticing. I slept as I pleased, and barely ever left the house. I ordered pizza probably every other day, and I managed to gain almost ten pounds in a month. I became utterly disgusting. Any physical progress I had made at the gym this year disappeared pretty quickly. I also began to hate myself a lot. I'd look at myself in the mirror while drunk on tequila and tell my reflection how hideous and useless he was. Then I'd start laughing, and roll a joint or something. The haze continued, as did my depression. I didn't answer my phone (ironic because I had just purchased the best phone my wireless provider offered: the new Motorola E815 with Jabra BT250 bluetooth wireless headset), or check my email, or anything. I think paying my rent, ordering pizza online, and occasionally going to Blockbuster Video if I couldn't wait for my Netflix movies to arrive were my only interactions with other people during that month. I found myself looking at a lot of internet pornography. I noticed that I had the "Speed Channel" playing on my television during a lot of the time too. At times I'd find myself masturbating to the Speed Channel and not even realizing what I was doing. It all became pornography to me. Speed Channel, the Food Network, G4tv, etc. I was more of a mindless, emotionless monster than ever. The only things I felt were hunger, my natural gross human sex drive, and the desire to race cars and shoot people on a video game console.
How did I snap out of it, you ask? I think it was a combination of things. First of all, I came to the realization that my savings account was dwindling rapidly and wouldn't be able to support me at my current disgusting pace for more than another two weeks. Secondly, I thought of a whole bunch of stuff that I really wanted to buy, and to do that, I would need a job. Thirdly, dfjlal;ksdhtal;hdkf;ha dl;khtealkhe hfdnadgj;yepauh3nadn adgashdfasddaken
The blue period turned sour fairly quickly. I lost track of time, and day and night slipped into each other without me noticing. I slept as I pleased, and barely ever left the house. I ordered pizza probably every other day, and I managed to gain almost ten pounds in a month. I became utterly disgusting. Any physical progress I had made at the gym this year disappeared pretty quickly. I also began to hate myself a lot. I'd look at myself in the mirror while drunk on tequila and tell my reflection how hideous and useless he was. Then I'd start laughing, and roll a joint or something. The haze continued, as did my depression. I didn't answer my phone (ironic because I had just purchased the best phone my wireless provider offered: the new Motorola E815 with Jabra BT250 bluetooth wireless headset), or check my email, or anything. I think paying my rent, ordering pizza online, and occasionally going to Blockbuster Video if I couldn't wait for my Netflix movies to arrive were my only interactions with other people during that month. I found myself looking at a lot of internet pornography. I noticed that I had the "Speed Channel" playing on my television during a lot of the time too. At times I'd find myself masturbating to the Speed Channel and not even realizing what I was doing. It all became pornography to me. Speed Channel, the Food Network, G4tv, etc. I was more of a mindless, emotionless monster than ever. The only things I felt were hunger, my natural gross human sex drive, and the desire to race cars and shoot people on a video game console.
How did I snap out of it, you ask? I think it was a combination of things. First of all, I came to the realization that my savings account was dwindling rapidly and wouldn't be able to support me at my current disgusting pace for more than another two weeks. Secondly, I thought of a whole bunch of stuff that I really wanted to buy, and to do that, I would need a job. Thirdly, dfjlal;ksdhtal;hdkf;ha dl;khtealkhe hfdnadgj;yepauh3nadn adgashdfasddaken
Tuesday, September 20, 2005
I assume you want something meaty by now. Huh? Do you?
There are some things I need to go over. These things being:
a) why I was fired
b) what happened after said firing
c) what i'm doing now
d) and finally what happened to that amazing girl I was dating briefly (the one that almost made me feel alive again)
I'm going to try to get this started now.
Towards the end of my time at "Company X," I became very uninterested with my job, and wasn't putting any effort into whatever it was I should've been doing. I spent my last month there slacking off as much as possible. People were always waiting for me to finish things...I had trouble meeting deadlines...I couldn't pay attention in meetings. All I did all day was browse myspace, buy things on ebay, and play games. Oh, and slowly walk around the office for like the first forty five minutes each morning, shooting the shit with a bunch of people I can't stand, before I even pretended to do any work at my desk. There were a few things that I got caught doing that I really think pushed things over the edge. For instance, printing out tons of gross, ridiculous pictures out on the company color laserjet printer. I'm talking at least five pages a day. Just of stupid stuff. Once I printed out like fifteen copies of a picture of the guy from the show "Airwolf" and left it on all these peoples' keyboards. I can't even remember why I did this. Looking back, I can barely remember anything about the nearly four years I spent at this company. I have almost nothing to show for it. But I think what really sealed my fate at the company was the day where we had a bunch of important clients visiting one afternoon(one of which was African American) and I was at my desk (which is pretty close to the lobby, where they were all waiting), playing with my little "Homies" toys that I had lined up on my computer monitor. I was making a lot of noise and crashing them into each other and saying stuff like "I'ma fuck you up like in a car crash, son! ::BANG! BANG!:: Ow! You shot me nigga! - Oh shit! Check Yo self! Check Yo self! - Leeroy! Break out ya box cutta! Slice off his nosey, G! - Yeeeah! What! What!! BLAUW!! BLAUW!!!! What's up NOW? - Oh mah Godddd! He cut he nose off!"
I think I had reverted to some kind of horrible child-like state for a moment, yelling these things out in a completely inappropriate location (the irony is, I was still supposed to be putting the finishing touches on the presentation for these clients, but I had spent all day chatting with people online, walking to Dunkin Donuts to get coffee (twice), and playing with my Homies toys), especially in front of important clients. Well. I snapped out of it when a project manager came over to me and whispered (really loudly and angrily) "STOP it B! What the FUCK is wrong with you? We have CLIENTS here!" And I just stared at her, straight-faced, dropped the toys in my hand loudly on my desk, and said slowly "It takes a company of hundreds to hold me back! AWWW SHIT!" And I got up and took a third trip to Dunkin Donuts that afternoon. When I got back, I obviously was in big big trouble, and was told by my boss that I was to leave immediately and not come back. I had nothing to say in my defense. My man told me that he "knew I was troubled and was struggling with a lot of personal issues this summer," but that there was no way he could keep me employed with my escalating weirdo behavior. There was no denying this, and I'm pretty sure I've been subconciously sabotaging myself at my job (and just about every other aspect of my life as well) for the better part of the year. Anyway, they gave me a decent package (completely suprising and awesome) and sent me on my way. Not too many people wrote me to say goodbye. I think most people were scared of me by the time I left. Or just found me to be completely revolting as a human being. There's always that.
Anyway, that's how I got fired. I'll be back soon.
There are some things I need to go over. These things being:
a) why I was fired
b) what happened after said firing
c) what i'm doing now
d) and finally what happened to that amazing girl I was dating briefly (the one that almost made me feel alive again)
I'm going to try to get this started now.
Towards the end of my time at "Company X," I became very uninterested with my job, and wasn't putting any effort into whatever it was I should've been doing. I spent my last month there slacking off as much as possible. People were always waiting for me to finish things...I had trouble meeting deadlines...I couldn't pay attention in meetings. All I did all day was browse myspace, buy things on ebay, and play games. Oh, and slowly walk around the office for like the first forty five minutes each morning, shooting the shit with a bunch of people I can't stand, before I even pretended to do any work at my desk. There were a few things that I got caught doing that I really think pushed things over the edge. For instance, printing out tons of gross, ridiculous pictures out on the company color laserjet printer. I'm talking at least five pages a day. Just of stupid stuff. Once I printed out like fifteen copies of a picture of the guy from the show "Airwolf" and left it on all these peoples' keyboards. I can't even remember why I did this. Looking back, I can barely remember anything about the nearly four years I spent at this company. I have almost nothing to show for it. But I think what really sealed my fate at the company was the day where we had a bunch of important clients visiting one afternoon(one of which was African American) and I was at my desk (which is pretty close to the lobby, where they were all waiting), playing with my little "Homies" toys that I had lined up on my computer monitor. I was making a lot of noise and crashing them into each other and saying stuff like "I'ma fuck you up like in a car crash, son! ::BANG! BANG!:: Ow! You shot me nigga! - Oh shit! Check Yo self! Check Yo self! - Leeroy! Break out ya box cutta! Slice off his nosey, G! - Yeeeah! What! What!! BLAUW!! BLAUW!!!! What's up NOW? - Oh mah Godddd! He cut he nose off!"
I think I had reverted to some kind of horrible child-like state for a moment, yelling these things out in a completely inappropriate location (the irony is, I was still supposed to be putting the finishing touches on the presentation for these clients, but I had spent all day chatting with people online, walking to Dunkin Donuts to get coffee (twice), and playing with my Homies toys), especially in front of important clients. Well. I snapped out of it when a project manager came over to me and whispered (really loudly and angrily) "STOP it B! What the FUCK is wrong with you? We have CLIENTS here!" And I just stared at her, straight-faced, dropped the toys in my hand loudly on my desk, and said slowly "It takes a company of hundreds to hold me back! AWWW SHIT!" And I got up and took a third trip to Dunkin Donuts that afternoon. When I got back, I obviously was in big big trouble, and was told by my boss that I was to leave immediately and not come back. I had nothing to say in my defense. My man told me that he "knew I was troubled and was struggling with a lot of personal issues this summer," but that there was no way he could keep me employed with my escalating weirdo behavior. There was no denying this, and I'm pretty sure I've been subconciously sabotaging myself at my job (and just about every other aspect of my life as well) for the better part of the year. Anyway, they gave me a decent package (completely suprising and awesome) and sent me on my way. Not too many people wrote me to say goodbye. I think most people were scared of me by the time I left. Or just found me to be completely revolting as a human being. There's always that.
Anyway, that's how I got fired. I'll be back soon.
Monday, August 15, 2005
A few admissions:
1) I never got a pet cat. There is no "shakie wilcox" and I'm not quite sure why I made all that up. I do wish I had something to love though, be it kitty or person.
2) I am still a complete monster, without remorse or purpose.
3) I am unemployed and have never felt freer. I spent all day today playing playstation in my underpants and eating Lucky Charms. On Friday I spent the day at the beach with a cooler full of pre-made margaritas in empty Poland Spring water bottles. I know that this wonderful feeling is a high that cannot sustain itself for long, but somehow the anxiety of being jobless hasn't kicked in yet. I'll worry about all that later. Right now my plans involve ordering pizza and renting a bunch of Tom Cruise movies. I love that guy.
4) Tomorrow is my 25th birthday and I feel more childlike than ever.
I'll tell you how it all went down another time. Oh, also I'll finally tell you how I blew my chance at true love and destined myself to be emotionally desolate for the rest of my life.
1) I never got a pet cat. There is no "shakie wilcox" and I'm not quite sure why I made all that up. I do wish I had something to love though, be it kitty or person.
2) I am still a complete monster, without remorse or purpose.
3) I am unemployed and have never felt freer. I spent all day today playing playstation in my underpants and eating Lucky Charms. On Friday I spent the day at the beach with a cooler full of pre-made margaritas in empty Poland Spring water bottles. I know that this wonderful feeling is a high that cannot sustain itself for long, but somehow the anxiety of being jobless hasn't kicked in yet. I'll worry about all that later. Right now my plans involve ordering pizza and renting a bunch of Tom Cruise movies. I love that guy.
4) Tomorrow is my 25th birthday and I feel more childlike than ever.
I'll tell you how it all went down another time. Oh, also I'll finally tell you how I blew my chance at true love and destined myself to be emotionally desolate for the rest of my life.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
Tuesday, June 07, 2005
Last week, I went to go see the new Star Wars movie with a couple of buddies. I wouldn't agree to seeing it in anything less than full digital projection. Seeing this movie was one of the only things I've looked forward to in the past few months. It was ultimately fulfilling, but predictably disappointing at the same time. Nothing's ever as good as I hope it's going to be.
When the movie was about the start, and we were greeted by the THX intro with the insane crescendo of weird fake-orchestral noise, something moved inside of me. Emotionally. I felt something rise up, and my eyes started to water. And I didn't understand it. I haven't felt anything in the past month. And all it took was the stupid intro sequence for a movie theater's sound system to finally make me feel something? I obsessed over this for the first half hour of the movie, wondering if I was somehow moved by this epic noise itself, or by the fact that it was completely synthetic and created by human beings. Like some surreal aural monument to humanity's genius. In any case, I tried to stop obsessing about it and focus on the shitty dialogue and acting in star wars, but I just couldn't shake the feeling I had inside me. I wanted to cry. I looked around and watched all these gross beasts surrounding me, stuffing their faces with raisinets, icees, and nacho chips covered in plastic-like cheese. This vision quickly sobered me up, and I got back into the movie, trying to escape and regain that feeling I had as a child when I'd watch my favorite movies or play with my favorite action figures. By the end of the night I was back to my regular numb self, and slept a good night's sleep, my dreams filled with wookies and hero-destroying romances.
Next time, I'll tell you a better story. I promise.
When the movie was about the start, and we were greeted by the THX intro with the insane crescendo of weird fake-orchestral noise, something moved inside of me. Emotionally. I felt something rise up, and my eyes started to water. And I didn't understand it. I haven't felt anything in the past month. And all it took was the stupid intro sequence for a movie theater's sound system to finally make me feel something? I obsessed over this for the first half hour of the movie, wondering if I was somehow moved by this epic noise itself, or by the fact that it was completely synthetic and created by human beings. Like some surreal aural monument to humanity's genius. In any case, I tried to stop obsessing about it and focus on the shitty dialogue and acting in star wars, but I just couldn't shake the feeling I had inside me. I wanted to cry. I looked around and watched all these gross beasts surrounding me, stuffing their faces with raisinets, icees, and nacho chips covered in plastic-like cheese. This vision quickly sobered me up, and I got back into the movie, trying to escape and regain that feeling I had as a child when I'd watch my favorite movies or play with my favorite action figures. By the end of the night I was back to my regular numb self, and slept a good night's sleep, my dreams filled with wookies and hero-destroying romances.
Next time, I'll tell you a better story. I promise.
Friday, May 06, 2005
serotonin bleeding internal band-aid fix never understood sparkling dead inside fixed bag of new blood new feelings fixed head better smile new person better man more bandages dirty water dark black feelings romance talk vitamins exercise health diet carrot protein cannot undo fix regret tears funny vomit escape booze never again fix unreal good dreams not letting go better lover fulfill personality scraped knee more accidents rebirth coccoon blooming new leaves new smell rotting roots dead pet new soil insects not escapable whole new man razor slowly idiot again abort escape regret decision needing comfort possessions no people work job responsibility empty produce nothing exist consume buy retreat hide isolate
Tuesday, April 12, 2005
I know I said that everything was better, and that everything was funny again (oh, it is), but I still feel unfulfilled in so many aspects of my life. Particularly the working aspect. I mean, I have a good job, and I'm comfortable. But I just...feel nothing while I'm at work. No motivation, no sense that I'm really going anywhere or producing anything of value. I don't work very hard, and I'm still rewarded well and overly-appreciated. I don't get it. Sometimes I try to do a bad job on purpose, and my manager is like "great work, B! go with it!" and I'm thinking to myself, "ZUH? I spent way more time chatting with my friends on instant messenger than working on this pile of shit, and they still like it?" I guess I'll never understand our industry. And our clients are miserable bastards. Indecisive automatons that drive luxury SUVs, porsches, and eat lots of red meat. The male ones anyway, I think. The female ones, I despise even more. It's so hard to make them understand anything. They're almost as stupid as the sorority girls who's houses I used to vandalize all the time in college. I just...I can't explain why I feel this way. I almost think I'm supposed to, if television and movies have taught me anything. So if this is how it's gotta be, then I'ma do this up right.
I could feel myself slipping away again in the early winter. Deep depression and a total lack of interest in any of the work I was doing took a hold of me. It started around the time we were handed out pieces of paper with our secret santa gift recipients written on them. The receptionist held out a coffee can with a bunch of pieces of paper in it, and I immediately groaned loudly when I saw who I had picked. "Gawwwwwd" I said, "I mean. No. Fuck. Okay thanks!" Then she scurried away to deliver the next horrible suprise unto an unexpecting employee. Secret santa. I didn't want to deal with this at all. I walked over to the desk of the woman who's name I had picked. "I got you for secret santa. What do you want?" This was the beginning of it all.
Lately I've been fantasizing a lot during work...almost losing myself in my fantasies. Sometimes when I interact with people I forget that these were just fantasies, and I have to correct my behavior. Or were they fantasies? My psychiatrist had me on a number of anti-depressants during the winter. It's all kind of murky, looking back on it. I may or may not have yanked off the hood ornament from a Mercedes S500 that was in the parking garage, and worn the ornament around my neck for the rest of the day. I may or may not told one of the account manager girls that if they didn't get me the documentation I needed for our afternoon status meeting I was going to "get miss piggy on them," and then stamp my feet and scream "KERRRMYYYYY" in a high-pitched shriek. I may or may not have snapped at one of the project managers who was asking me about deliverables. "What? Get your fat ass out of my cubbie-cube! Can't you see I'm trying to play tetris here?" I haven't been fired yet, and I haven't had a 'talking to' in a while either. So maybe none of those things ever happened. I'm just going to keep rolling, and reap the benefits of a world that doesn't pay attention.
I could feel myself slipping away again in the early winter. Deep depression and a total lack of interest in any of the work I was doing took a hold of me. It started around the time we were handed out pieces of paper with our secret santa gift recipients written on them. The receptionist held out a coffee can with a bunch of pieces of paper in it, and I immediately groaned loudly when I saw who I had picked. "Gawwwwwd" I said, "I mean. No. Fuck. Okay thanks!" Then she scurried away to deliver the next horrible suprise unto an unexpecting employee. Secret santa. I didn't want to deal with this at all. I walked over to the desk of the woman who's name I had picked. "I got you for secret santa. What do you want?" This was the beginning of it all.
Lately I've been fantasizing a lot during work...almost losing myself in my fantasies. Sometimes when I interact with people I forget that these were just fantasies, and I have to correct my behavior. Or were they fantasies? My psychiatrist had me on a number of anti-depressants during the winter. It's all kind of murky, looking back on it. I may or may not have yanked off the hood ornament from a Mercedes S500 that was in the parking garage, and worn the ornament around my neck for the rest of the day. I may or may not told one of the account manager girls that if they didn't get me the documentation I needed for our afternoon status meeting I was going to "get miss piggy on them," and then stamp my feet and scream "KERRRMYYYYY" in a high-pitched shriek. I may or may not have snapped at one of the project managers who was asking me about deliverables. "What? Get your fat ass out of my cubbie-cube! Can't you see I'm trying to play tetris here?" I haven't been fired yet, and I haven't had a 'talking to' in a while either. So maybe none of those things ever happened. I'm just going to keep rolling, and reap the benefits of a world that doesn't pay attention.
Thursday, February 17, 2005
PART TWO:
i can't really explain it to you that well.
and i remembered earlier in the day when i was stuck in traffic on the highway and i looked around and felt trapped, surrounded by massive vehicles...yellow ribbons, american flags, bumper stickers reducing my country's ideals into a marketable slogan...the flag i saluted as a child...becoming a brand icon (which made me think of rubbing bbq sauce from my face all over napkins printed with american flags at last year's company picnic and laughing loudly about it). and i thought to myself "wait, i still live in the best country in the world, right?" but if that's true, and i do, why is everyone around me so completely fucked up? so completely sad and empty? i feel nothing these days. all my friends from college...they email me and tell me what they're doing and what they're buying and who they're listening to and what they're seeing...but occasionally i get a window into what really goes on inside them, and it's fucking scary. they don't know what they want. they hate their jobs. they're lonely. they grow bored of the stuff they buy. the novelty wears off so quickly to them. we - ugh..i can't even write this without distracting myself with a bunch of stupid internet bullshit every two seconds... i wish i still had an attention span - we are obsessed with these commodities...and we have to adorn ourselves with them. cover up the ugly skeletons inside. and those...the ones that have all the things they need and don't go hungry but are still sad and don't want to get out of bed in the morning...i am still one of these people.
i woke up and i hated what i saw in myself. i know i've been gone a long time. to everyone. i promise i'll tell you everything. i know i've said it before. but i'm a different person now, i swear. i think. people can change. my heart got broken, i got sick, i tried to get myself fired, then i returned to the gym and started exercising again - tried to do something positive for myself. i feel so much better, and everything's funny again. EVERYTHING is. i'll tell you so much more...
i can't really explain it to you that well.
and i remembered earlier in the day when i was stuck in traffic on the highway and i looked around and felt trapped, surrounded by massive vehicles...yellow ribbons, american flags, bumper stickers reducing my country's ideals into a marketable slogan...the flag i saluted as a child...becoming a brand icon (which made me think of rubbing bbq sauce from my face all over napkins printed with american flags at last year's company picnic and laughing loudly about it). and i thought to myself "wait, i still live in the best country in the world, right?" but if that's true, and i do, why is everyone around me so completely fucked up? so completely sad and empty? i feel nothing these days. all my friends from college...they email me and tell me what they're doing and what they're buying and who they're listening to and what they're seeing...but occasionally i get a window into what really goes on inside them, and it's fucking scary. they don't know what they want. they hate their jobs. they're lonely. they grow bored of the stuff they buy. the novelty wears off so quickly to them. we - ugh..i can't even write this without distracting myself with a bunch of stupid internet bullshit every two seconds... i wish i still had an attention span - we are obsessed with these commodities...and we have to adorn ourselves with them. cover up the ugly skeletons inside. and those...the ones that have all the things they need and don't go hungry but are still sad and don't want to get out of bed in the morning...i am still one of these people.
i woke up and i hated what i saw in myself. i know i've been gone a long time. to everyone. i promise i'll tell you everything. i know i've said it before. but i'm a different person now, i swear. i think. people can change. my heart got broken, i got sick, i tried to get myself fired, then i returned to the gym and started exercising again - tried to do something positive for myself. i feel so much better, and everything's funny again. EVERYTHING is. i'll tell you so much more...
Wednesday, February 16, 2005
PART ONE:
i finally awoke, as i looked at myself in the mirror, crying pathetically. i stared into my own eyes, tears running into my mouth. i could taste salt and vomit. i could taste remnants of an overpriced meal at a subpar restaurant, packed with well-dressed hideous people. as i looked at myself in the mirror i realized i wasn't as ugly as i'd always believed. and i wasn't as vacuous as i had feared. i saw something in my own eyes. i'm a real person. there is something there after all. and i don't think it's ugly, like i'd been told so many times before. i never told you all about my old relationship. with the girl who i took for granted. the girl who tried her best to see something good in me, even though there was only shit inside. when she talked about politics and world affairs, i'd just nod and think about sports cars and HDTVs. i always thought love was just something in movies and in books...a romanticized idea created by french poets a few centuries ago. or something. when i looked into my own eyes and actually saw love for myself, i understood her love for me. maybe that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. i've never thought about it that much. i just thought love and relationships were something that you had to do...something that was socially acceptable and all my friends were doing. so i did it. i went through the motions but rarely did i feel ANYTHING, through no fault of her's. i just accepted the fact that i was a cold monster and feeling nothing is how we live now. all we can feel is cheap, superficial pleasure. orgasm, good food, alcohol, cigarette, drugs, sitcom laughter. not genuine, deep contentment. i don't think i'll ever feel it again (i know i felt it as a child). but at least i had a moment of clarity...i could see inside myself for once. there is something there.
and i understood why i'll be alone forever.
i finally awoke, as i looked at myself in the mirror, crying pathetically. i stared into my own eyes, tears running into my mouth. i could taste salt and vomit. i could taste remnants of an overpriced meal at a subpar restaurant, packed with well-dressed hideous people. as i looked at myself in the mirror i realized i wasn't as ugly as i'd always believed. and i wasn't as vacuous as i had feared. i saw something in my own eyes. i'm a real person. there is something there after all. and i don't think it's ugly, like i'd been told so many times before. i never told you all about my old relationship. with the girl who i took for granted. the girl who tried her best to see something good in me, even though there was only shit inside. when she talked about politics and world affairs, i'd just nod and think about sports cars and HDTVs. i always thought love was just something in movies and in books...a romanticized idea created by french poets a few centuries ago. or something. when i looked into my own eyes and actually saw love for myself, i understood her love for me. maybe that doesn't make a whole lot of sense. i've never thought about it that much. i just thought love and relationships were something that you had to do...something that was socially acceptable and all my friends were doing. so i did it. i went through the motions but rarely did i feel ANYTHING, through no fault of her's. i just accepted the fact that i was a cold monster and feeling nothing is how we live now. all we can feel is cheap, superficial pleasure. orgasm, good food, alcohol, cigarette, drugs, sitcom laughter. not genuine, deep contentment. i don't think i'll ever feel it again (i know i felt it as a child). but at least i had a moment of clarity...i could see inside myself for once. there is something there.
and i understood why i'll be alone forever.
Thursday, January 13, 2005
I've fallen into the deepest depression I can remember in the past ten years. I tried to do something positive and go back to the gym to pull myself out of this horrible slump. I've been there every night this week. I hate how the guys that work there pretend to be my friend. I told a guy I work with about the gym I go to, and he seemed interested, so I brought him the other night, after work. The kid that signed me up and showed me the place when I first joined was there, and he says to the guy I brought in: "Yo man...you want a membership? I'll hook you up. Yeah, I hooked up your man B over here!" and I just stared at him, and said as deadpan as I could, "Yeah man...you totally 'hooked me up'...by giving me the exact same rate and privileges any other fat fuck who walks through that door gets. Thanks bro!" He just tried to smile back at me, slightly confused and definately trying to hide his irritation. The good thing is, he hasn't said a word to me the past two nights I've gone. Lately my ultimate fantasy has been to just die instantly on the treadmill (my heart always palpitates and I feel like I'm about to die about 20% of the day), and make everyone at the health club deal with my death and be forever haunted by it.
Thursday, December 02, 2004
You support the troops, but you drive like a complete asshole.
Okay. I've been away for a while. I think I may have found God. I don't know. Also, work/sickness/depression/a feeling of complete loss and hopelessness have consumed me lately. A lot's happened. I promise to write about it all in the coming months. I just can't think straight right now. People ask me what's wrong at work (They should damn well know; they keep piling on more ridiculous amounts of work for me to do. I'm getting paranoid. I think this is all some kind of conspiracy to get me to snap so they can fire me.), and all I can respond with is "Shit's mad heated, son." And that seems to sum it up. I'll be back.
Okay. I've been away for a while. I think I may have found God. I don't know. Also, work/sickness/depression/a feeling of complete loss and hopelessness have consumed me lately. A lot's happened. I promise to write about it all in the coming months. I just can't think straight right now. People ask me what's wrong at work (They should damn well know; they keep piling on more ridiculous amounts of work for me to do. I'm getting paranoid. I think this is all some kind of conspiracy to get me to snap so they can fire me.), and all I can respond with is "Shit's mad heated, son." And that seems to sum it up. I'll be back.
Wednesday, November 03, 2004
I emerged from my flu-encrusted hibernation this morning to discover that George W. Bush will remain our president for the next four years. Way to go America. I knew you wouldn't let me down.
I started talking to some of my friends on Instant Messenger to see what their feelings were. Many of them are outraged. They blamed people like me for not voting. I don't care about all that. I just want to maintain my selfish, wonderful lifestyle.
I started talking to some of my friends on Instant Messenger to see what their feelings were. Many of them are outraged. They blamed people like me for not voting. I don't care about all that. I just want to maintain my selfish, wonderful lifestyle.
Friday, October 15, 2004
I went out for drinks last night with some coworkers. Typically, I drank way too much. We were in this really intense debate about consumer electronics, and Blu-Ray technology versus HD-DVD, and I started feeling really panicky, and just starting ranting, barely taking time to breathe in between sentences...I don't know what came over me, but I just starting rambling uncontrollably...It went a little something like this:
"Ughhh...Listen to all this...this doesn't improve our lives at all, does it? Or does it? Where does it all go when we're done with it? How much is left? Do we need any more? I want...another megapixel, another gigahertz, more anytime minutes... I look at all of you and some of you are actually doing things and going places and fixing things and helping people...where am I? I am the worst kind of human being, the absolute most useless thing to our race. I have nothing to offer. A few jokes maybe...a couple of new ideas...no, mostly just rehashed and not as good as the originals. God, I really have nothing to offer society...nothing. My existence is a joke. Simply here to collect disposable income and spend it on things that destroy me. I woke up and looked around my bed this morning...a trashcan full of used kleenex and chocolate bar wrappers, a kitchen full of empty fast-food containers and soda cans, men's magazines all over the floor of my bathroom...went to my living room and it was just full of shit, complete shit. Horrible movies on DVD, men's/consumer magazines, a fishtank I was too lazy to set up, a half-assembled stereo system, video game consoles strewn about the floor... All relics of my godless, hedonistic lifestyle. I'm disgusting. I could disappear tomorrow and it wouldn't affect anything. Someone else could do what I do, and probably be better at it. And maybe actually invest their money and use it to benefit mankind, instead of just spending it on themselves. I'm so worthless.......uh.............PSYCHE!!!"
Then I high-fived one of my coworkers (I don't remember which one), the conversation picked up right where it left off before I started babbling, and we spent like 200 dollars on more beer and food.
"Ughhh...Listen to all this...this doesn't improve our lives at all, does it? Or does it? Where does it all go when we're done with it? How much is left? Do we need any more? I want...another megapixel, another gigahertz, more anytime minutes... I look at all of you and some of you are actually doing things and going places and fixing things and helping people...where am I? I am the worst kind of human being, the absolute most useless thing to our race. I have nothing to offer. A few jokes maybe...a couple of new ideas...no, mostly just rehashed and not as good as the originals. God, I really have nothing to offer society...nothing. My existence is a joke. Simply here to collect disposable income and spend it on things that destroy me. I woke up and looked around my bed this morning...a trashcan full of used kleenex and chocolate bar wrappers, a kitchen full of empty fast-food containers and soda cans, men's magazines all over the floor of my bathroom...went to my living room and it was just full of shit, complete shit. Horrible movies on DVD, men's/consumer magazines, a fishtank I was too lazy to set up, a half-assembled stereo system, video game consoles strewn about the floor... All relics of my godless, hedonistic lifestyle. I'm disgusting. I could disappear tomorrow and it wouldn't affect anything. Someone else could do what I do, and probably be better at it. And maybe actually invest their money and use it to benefit mankind, instead of just spending it on themselves. I'm so worthless.......uh.............PSYCHE!!!"
Then I high-fived one of my coworkers (I don't remember which one), the conversation picked up right where it left off before I started babbling, and we spent like 200 dollars on more beer and food.
Monday, September 27, 2004
Hmm. Where do I begin? A lot's happened in the past few weeks. Professionally, romantically, emotionally. It always happens all together like that. I still haven't been back to the gym. Haven't had time. Been really busy with work, and buying DVDs...and a date. A really special one, I think. With the girl from the party. I emailed her last week (I'm not sure why I waited so long), and she took some time to get back to me. I was getting nervous. Maybe I took too long to write her? Maybe she was toying with me? Maybe she thought I was stupid and ugly and didn't want to ever see me again? Maybe she didn't give me her real email address and she was never interested in me to begin with? Maybe she was as shitty as I originally thought she was when we first interacted? All of these thoughts upset me and I began to hate her again. Suddenly, she emailed me four days later, and by the time I finished reading her message, I was captivated again. She wanted to meet. She included her phone number in the email. For some reason, my stomach began to hurt at the sight of her digits. I got really nervous, and decided that deleting the email and never talking to her again might be a good idea, but then I realized that I had to seize this opportunity while I had the chance. I queued up "Like a Prayer" by Madonna (one of my favorite guilty pleasures) on my stereo and turned up the volume. Inspired by the music, I started doing pushups. 25, 50, as many as I could do. After 4 sets of 25, I stood up, a trembling mess, sweaty and red faced, and ran into my bathroom, peeling my shirt off. I flexed my swollen muscles in the mirror, cooing to my self, "Yeah....yeah. You like that?" After I felt sexy and confident enough, I turned the music off, took a few deep breaths, and called the number she gave me. It went straight to her voicemail message. He message was short, cute, and to the point. "Hi. Not here, leave a message. Bye." I liked that. The phone beeped at me. "Uh...hey. HEY. This is...the guy you met at Marty's party a few weeks ago. The guy that you emailed. Today. Hey. So uh, I was thinking we could maybe hang out? This weekend? Soon? I'd like to take you to this gourmet Chinese place downtown...if..that's alright." I continued to babble for maybe ten seconds more, before finally giving her my phone number to call me back. Then I drank beer and played xbox for the rest of the night, hating myself for sounding so idiotic on her voicemail.
Well, she ended up calling me back, late that night, after I had almost gone crazy convincing myself that I'm worthless and that she'd never call back. She told me she'd love to let me take her out to dinner, and we made plans for Friday night. I spent the rest of the week in a nervous/excited daze. But I couldn't help thinking this was some cruel joke and that she wasn't going to be at the restaurant. I have to start taking these chances, I told myself. I need a mate...a lover...a sidekick. Or at the very least, someone who'll make me feel good about myself. So the night finally came, and when I showed up at the restaurant, there she was, looking stunning. The date went wonderfully. We talked about all kinds of things (she was actually interesting), and I was able to get her to crack up a few times. Making her laugh made me feel so amazing. For instance, when we were ordering our meals, I insisted that I make some recommendations to her. "No no, I insist. Put the menu down. I've been here a bunch of times. I'll read you some of the specialties," I told her. She seemed hesitant, until she saw what I was up to. I lowered my voice and began to speak in a Chinese accent, pretending to read from the menu. "Ah, tonight's ah special, we have ah braised ree-tah-ded duck een a special peeglet sauce." She looked at me with her mouth agape, then looked around to make sure no one could hear us, and started giggling quietly. I smiled at her. "Ah, Szechuan baaayby cheecken! Most suffering baby chicken! Extreme pain and unpleasantness brings out special dericate frava in baby chicken!' A waiter walked by with food for another table, so I cleared my throat and started speaking normally. "Ahem, I think we should get some of the homemade dumplings. They're really good here." When the waiter was far enough away, I resumed my game. "Ah yessss. You get ah thees! Dericate pigret, in special pigret sauce! Little pig taken away from his mother at very young age, very heartbroken! Die most excruciating death, taste so dericious!" At this point my date was actually clapping her hands with delight, slightly bouncing up and down as she laughed. I was melting inside. I then handed her a menu and we both ordered some delicious meals. We also got funny drinks. She ordered a zombie (which got her pretty buzzed) and I did my best to order a suffering bastard with a straight face (except with the waiter repeated my order - ah, suffering bahstahd) it was all I could do to not burst out laughing. She was kicking me in the shins while I ordered to keep me in line. There was rarely a break in the conversation during the meal, except to put food in our mouths. We went our seperate ways after dinner, and I felt the happiest I've felt since I keyed some asshole's Range Rover that double-parked in the parking garage at work last month. But even happier. I have a feeling that things are going to be okay for me...
Well, she ended up calling me back, late that night, after I had almost gone crazy convincing myself that I'm worthless and that she'd never call back. She told me she'd love to let me take her out to dinner, and we made plans for Friday night. I spent the rest of the week in a nervous/excited daze. But I couldn't help thinking this was some cruel joke and that she wasn't going to be at the restaurant. I have to start taking these chances, I told myself. I need a mate...a lover...a sidekick. Or at the very least, someone who'll make me feel good about myself. So the night finally came, and when I showed up at the restaurant, there she was, looking stunning. The date went wonderfully. We talked about all kinds of things (she was actually interesting), and I was able to get her to crack up a few times. Making her laugh made me feel so amazing. For instance, when we were ordering our meals, I insisted that I make some recommendations to her. "No no, I insist. Put the menu down. I've been here a bunch of times. I'll read you some of the specialties," I told her. She seemed hesitant, until she saw what I was up to. I lowered my voice and began to speak in a Chinese accent, pretending to read from the menu. "Ah, tonight's ah special, we have ah braised ree-tah-ded duck een a special peeglet sauce." She looked at me with her mouth agape, then looked around to make sure no one could hear us, and started giggling quietly. I smiled at her. "Ah, Szechuan baaayby cheecken! Most suffering baby chicken! Extreme pain and unpleasantness brings out special dericate frava in baby chicken!' A waiter walked by with food for another table, so I cleared my throat and started speaking normally. "Ahem, I think we should get some of the homemade dumplings. They're really good here." When the waiter was far enough away, I resumed my game. "Ah yessss. You get ah thees! Dericate pigret, in special pigret sauce! Little pig taken away from his mother at very young age, very heartbroken! Die most excruciating death, taste so dericious!" At this point my date was actually clapping her hands with delight, slightly bouncing up and down as she laughed. I was melting inside. I then handed her a menu and we both ordered some delicious meals. We also got funny drinks. She ordered a zombie (which got her pretty buzzed) and I did my best to order a suffering bastard with a straight face (except with the waiter repeated my order - ah, suffering bahstahd) it was all I could do to not burst out laughing. She was kicking me in the shins while I ordered to keep me in line. There was rarely a break in the conversation during the meal, except to put food in our mouths. We went our seperate ways after dinner, and I felt the happiest I've felt since I keyed some asshole's Range Rover that double-parked in the parking garage at work last month. But even happier. I have a feeling that things are going to be okay for me...
Monday, September 20, 2004
had a nightmare last night:
...brief glimpses of a world where celebrities (mostly athletes) get corporate tattoos on their bodies as the final step in ultimate corporate sponsorship. andre agassi took that last pathetic step and had a large nike swoosh tattooed on his bicep. celebrities are also sponsored in name as well. for instance Vin Diesel is no longer Vin Diesel, but 'Pepsi presents Vin Diesel.' coming soon to the AOL Time Warner Nestle Multiplex near you: Apple Computers Motion Pictures presents Star Wars 9, Starring Pepsi presents Vin Diesel, brought to you by Burger King, in association with ExxonMobil's entertainment subsidiary.
that's all I can remember. so much more has happened. been so busy lately. stressed out and eating a lot of junk food. it was really cold last night. i had some thai food and i think they put a lot of MSG in it, and that gives me weird dreams. not always about andre agassi.
...brief glimpses of a world where celebrities (mostly athletes) get corporate tattoos on their bodies as the final step in ultimate corporate sponsorship. andre agassi took that last pathetic step and had a large nike swoosh tattooed on his bicep. celebrities are also sponsored in name as well. for instance Vin Diesel is no longer Vin Diesel, but 'Pepsi presents Vin Diesel.' coming soon to the AOL Time Warner Nestle Multiplex near you: Apple Computers Motion Pictures presents Star Wars 9, Starring Pepsi presents Vin Diesel, brought to you by Burger King, in association with ExxonMobil's entertainment subsidiary.
that's all I can remember. so much more has happened. been so busy lately. stressed out and eating a lot of junk food. it was really cold last night. i had some thai food and i think they put a lot of MSG in it, and that gives me weird dreams. not always about andre agassi.
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
Dear robo-diary,
I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. The last couple of weeks have been super hectic at work, as projects have been rolling in and I've been trying to redeem myself, socially and professionally. Plus I took a little trip down to DC this weekend to visit an old friend. It gave my patriotism a sorely-needed boost. A metro bus driver gave me several compliments on my diesel digital wristwatch, which made my day. I pride myself in how cool my accessories are. Hats, watches, sunglasses, shoes, messenger bags, etc. We also went to Virginia for a day to see some sites. It was enlightening, as I'd never been there. An interesting observation: I saw a beat up old pickup truck on the highway with two bumper stickers on it. One said "VOTE FREEDOM FIRST" and had an American flag and eagle on it, and the sticker next to it had a big confederate flag on it. I think in this upcoming election, i'm going to vote freedom last, if possible.
Anyway, when we last left our hero, he had just started going to the gym (he hasn't been back yet) and was looking forward to a big party that upcoming weekend. So I went to this party, and had a really good time. I got really drunk and got to talk to a lot of kids I went to school in. A lot of them are in positions similar to mine, so we talked a lot about work, the industry, politics, everything. A lot of them didn't seem all that happy either. Like they weren't really satisfied with their lives. Which is weird, because a few of them had really nice cars. So I was getting increasingly blotto as the night went on, and I started pretty early, so people continued to show up to the party even after I'd hit a pretty good drunk-level. At one point, the doorbell rang, and no one did anything about it, so I took it upon myself to go open the door and greet our new guest. I could see through the screen door that it was a girl, so I composed myself as best I could and went down to the front door, slowly opening it with a big, sincere smile on my face. The girl standing there was really cute. Hip clothes, short hair, and a 6-pack of Bass in one hand, Amstel Light in the other. I liked what I saw. "Hi!" I said enthusiastically, as I held the door open for her. She looked at me for a moment, then rolled her eyes to one side of her head and said "Okayyyy..." and walked inside the house, not saying anything else. I stood there for a moment, still holding the door open, stunned. What the fuck? I couldn't believe how rude she was. I went back upstairs and quietly complained to a bunch of people about this girl's snotty entrance. "Who is that girl?" I asked a few of my female classmates (I can't believe how distant college seems to me now), while swilling more beer and shoving cheese and crackers into my mouth. "I think that's one of Becky's friends? I'm not sure," said one of the girls. "Weh, she don know who she fuhcking wiff" I said, my mouth full of crackers, spraying cracker bits and dust all over one of the girls, who walked away in disgust, brushing herself off. For the next hour, I positioned myself around this girl covertly, glaring at her and drinking imported lager after imported lager, pretending to listen to the people who tried to start conversations with me. "Well, yeah, I think that these new marketing initiatives will be really important in the next year, and uh, we'll see an interesting trend in the return of equities to the company if we keep up this aggressive growth, and um, embrace new media technologies that will enhance user experiences and increase brand loyalty through rebate incentives and...and..." I found myself saying, not even paying attention to the bullshit spewing from my lips. All I could think about was that girl, and how to outwit her. She looked so confident, smart, sassy... Drinking her Bass and tossing her head back with laughter, never making eye contact with me. It drove me crazy. I spent the rest of the night working up the drunken courage to approach her, trying to figure out something to say that would baffle her. At the same time though, I wanted to somehow impress her. I was oddly attracted to her. Twenty-four years old, and I still can't figure these things out. Anyway, things started to wind down as people started leaving, and only the drunkest remained. A good amount of people were still there though. I couldn't stomach anymore beer, and by that point I was really really drunk, and completely obsessed with confronting this mystery girl. So I finally stumbed over to her, everything around me moving slowly as I approached with hesitation. Even as drunk as I was, I was actually nervous. She stopped talking to her friends and just stood there, staring at me blankly as I slowly walked towards her, trying not to look as drunk as I actually was. I stood there for a moment, trying to compose myself, while her and her friends just looked at me. I think one of them was snickering at me. I hadn't really thought of what I was going to say to her exactly, so all that came out was: "Hey. So...uh...want to find out why they call me ostentatious B?" She stared at me...."Wh-what?" she asked, laughing a little bit. "Want to, uh...want to..haha...fuck. I don't know." I then held out my hand and offered her a proper introduction. Suprisingly she accepted it and seemed genuinely pleased to make my acquaintance. Her friends walked away from me and we stood there, slowly building up to a conversation, which was actually really interesting and lasted a good half hour before I abruptly told her that I had to go to bed and dream of electric sheep. Somehow I woke up with her email address written on a ripped piece of toilet paper in my pocket. I never found out why she was so rude to me upon her arrival. This girl baffles me so. I have yet to email her...I'm trying to figure out how to approach this. We'll see where this goes...
I'm sorry I haven't written in a while. The last couple of weeks have been super hectic at work, as projects have been rolling in and I've been trying to redeem myself, socially and professionally. Plus I took a little trip down to DC this weekend to visit an old friend. It gave my patriotism a sorely-needed boost. A metro bus driver gave me several compliments on my diesel digital wristwatch, which made my day. I pride myself in how cool my accessories are. Hats, watches, sunglasses, shoes, messenger bags, etc. We also went to Virginia for a day to see some sites. It was enlightening, as I'd never been there. An interesting observation: I saw a beat up old pickup truck on the highway with two bumper stickers on it. One said "VOTE FREEDOM FIRST" and had an American flag and eagle on it, and the sticker next to it had a big confederate flag on it. I think in this upcoming election, i'm going to vote freedom last, if possible.
Anyway, when we last left our hero, he had just started going to the gym (he hasn't been back yet) and was looking forward to a big party that upcoming weekend. So I went to this party, and had a really good time. I got really drunk and got to talk to a lot of kids I went to school in. A lot of them are in positions similar to mine, so we talked a lot about work, the industry, politics, everything. A lot of them didn't seem all that happy either. Like they weren't really satisfied with their lives. Which is weird, because a few of them had really nice cars. So I was getting increasingly blotto as the night went on, and I started pretty early, so people continued to show up to the party even after I'd hit a pretty good drunk-level. At one point, the doorbell rang, and no one did anything about it, so I took it upon myself to go open the door and greet our new guest. I could see through the screen door that it was a girl, so I composed myself as best I could and went down to the front door, slowly opening it with a big, sincere smile on my face. The girl standing there was really cute. Hip clothes, short hair, and a 6-pack of Bass in one hand, Amstel Light in the other. I liked what I saw. "Hi!" I said enthusiastically, as I held the door open for her. She looked at me for a moment, then rolled her eyes to one side of her head and said "Okayyyy..." and walked inside the house, not saying anything else. I stood there for a moment, still holding the door open, stunned. What the fuck? I couldn't believe how rude she was. I went back upstairs and quietly complained to a bunch of people about this girl's snotty entrance. "Who is that girl?" I asked a few of my female classmates (I can't believe how distant college seems to me now), while swilling more beer and shoving cheese and crackers into my mouth. "I think that's one of Becky's friends? I'm not sure," said one of the girls. "Weh, she don know who she fuhcking wiff" I said, my mouth full of crackers, spraying cracker bits and dust all over one of the girls, who walked away in disgust, brushing herself off. For the next hour, I positioned myself around this girl covertly, glaring at her and drinking imported lager after imported lager, pretending to listen to the people who tried to start conversations with me. "Well, yeah, I think that these new marketing initiatives will be really important in the next year, and uh, we'll see an interesting trend in the return of equities to the company if we keep up this aggressive growth, and um, embrace new media technologies that will enhance user experiences and increase brand loyalty through rebate incentives and...and..." I found myself saying, not even paying attention to the bullshit spewing from my lips. All I could think about was that girl, and how to outwit her. She looked so confident, smart, sassy... Drinking her Bass and tossing her head back with laughter, never making eye contact with me. It drove me crazy. I spent the rest of the night working up the drunken courage to approach her, trying to figure out something to say that would baffle her. At the same time though, I wanted to somehow impress her. I was oddly attracted to her. Twenty-four years old, and I still can't figure these things out. Anyway, things started to wind down as people started leaving, and only the drunkest remained. A good amount of people were still there though. I couldn't stomach anymore beer, and by that point I was really really drunk, and completely obsessed with confronting this mystery girl. So I finally stumbed over to her, everything around me moving slowly as I approached with hesitation. Even as drunk as I was, I was actually nervous. She stopped talking to her friends and just stood there, staring at me blankly as I slowly walked towards her, trying not to look as drunk as I actually was. I stood there for a moment, trying to compose myself, while her and her friends just looked at me. I think one of them was snickering at me. I hadn't really thought of what I was going to say to her exactly, so all that came out was: "Hey. So...uh...want to find out why they call me ostentatious B?" She stared at me...."Wh-what?" she asked, laughing a little bit. "Want to, uh...want to..haha...fuck. I don't know." I then held out my hand and offered her a proper introduction. Suprisingly she accepted it and seemed genuinely pleased to make my acquaintance. Her friends walked away from me and we stood there, slowly building up to a conversation, which was actually really interesting and lasted a good half hour before I abruptly told her that I had to go to bed and dream of electric sheep. Somehow I woke up with her email address written on a ripped piece of toilet paper in my pocket. I never found out why she was so rude to me upon her arrival. This girl baffles me so. I have yet to email her...I'm trying to figure out how to approach this. We'll see where this goes...
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