Disappointed

I am sitting here thinking and I feel slightly disappointed in myself. There are situations going on currently that I have handled with a sense of entitlement and bratty attitude that doesn't really need to be there. I'm better than this, and because of this I'm disappointed in myself, and feel others are probably disappointed in me as well.

My mother is very ill, and I'm not sure that I've been the son so far that I should be. It's hard for me to deal with her illness, especially since I lost another parent not too long ago. I find myself getting annoyed when we speak for no reason, even though in my mind I tend to come up with reasons: she's self-pitying, ill in the head because of it, or just craving attention. But even if these things are true, it's still not right for me to react the way I do. If I was sick, and my spouse was gone, and all my children were gone, I guess I would feel a sense of loneliness myself. In fact, I admit I probably couldn't handle it in the way she has so far. I can do better, and I'm going to try to do better. I can't promise I won't blow up like I do, because I have anger issues, but I realize that there are things I need to work on. Even if I am right, my mother doesn't need to hear me tell her that. I just need to bite my lip and endure.

I find myself wallowing in my own self pity, due to financials and many other reasons, but I am a pessimistic person, and tend to look at the glass half empty. This is something I need to work on as well, even though I don't think that will ever change much. My outlook on life took a major change in the spring of 2006, and I don't think I'll ever truly recover from that. But I can try. I need to be a better friend, and one who is less focused on himself than on the others who help make life a little better.

Now, on a positive note: since January I have lost 34 lbs. I am on my way to my goal. In that respect, I'm proud of myself, and look forward the huge party that I'm going to throw when I reach that goal.

I want to start blogging everyday. I miss that, and usually choose not to because of the business of work, so I'm going to try to make a better effort.

Let me know how I'm doing.

Meryl Streep

I'm sorry for what I'm about to say.

Meryl Streep may be one of the most unattractive women I have ever seen. Every time I look at her, I want to vomit in my mouth a little bit. I'm not usually like this. I don't want to just rag on someone for circumstances truly beyond their control. But my goodness, can you name someone less attractive than her? Horrid, truly horrid. Every time I see a new advertisement for Julie and Julia I want to kill myself. She has never been attractive and she never will be. I hope this is her last movie so I don't have to see her disgusting pasty, pale skin again.

Cool Hand Bill

So, Bill Clinton goes into a nation full of foreign psychopaths. While in this country, he manages to persuade these psychopaths to let two of our journalists go. Man, I miss that family being in office...

Need more info? Check it out here.

G-Note: "Fiend" by Coal Champer

Vitamin G is...Scared of Old People on Facebook!

I'm sure you've noticed the upward trend of past generations logging their filthy claws into OUR Facebook. Yes, I know children, it frightens me too. In the past few months, I have added people as friends on my Facebook that I would never have even thought to do so before. The drunken photographs, the silly and demonizing videos, the link to my blog which conservative elders of mine will no doubt find disturbing, disgusting, and diabolical. All of these things are on my Facebook, and now I have to worry about the wrong people reading the wrong thing.

First, one of my co-workers added it. And while I'm not against the idea of having the Facebook bond with my co-workers, I know this particular one is a good, Christian person, and to tell you the truth, the idea of him having access to this blog via my Facebook made me want to put my head down every time I walked by him. I could feel his/her judgement like a giant block being placed on my shoulders by God herself.

Then, my grandmother. No, not my real grandmother. To tell you the truth, as I have mentioned on here countless times, I never really had grandparents. But this particular person has been in my life since I was a small child, and has basically adopted me as her third grandchild. The idea of her perusing through my photographs, seeing the devious deeds that I do when she's not around, well, it's enough to make my pale skin crawl. I want her to think I'm sweet, innocent, and polite...which I am...to her and most other elders. But for a lot of people to know the truth, well, it's just scary...

Then there's the fact that fellow employees from all over campus are on there...watching...waiting...for what, I do not know. But the idea...it just makes me feel so vulnerable...so exposed.

I don't talk about my religion to most. And when people get on there and see the truth, the kind of people who would be offended by such a thing and who I don't want to offend, well, it's offensive. But then again, I think about the truth. If these people can't handle who I am, then maybe they're just not worth knowing. And I'm sure the people I really love will have no problems with me being an agnostic that leans to atheism and a raging democrat.

Or would they...Mom?

As We Get Older

I often think about where I am in my life and measure it against where I thought I would be when I was younger. The truth saddens me slightly, not because I'm ashamed of myself or where I am (in truth, I'm proud of where I am), but because of how...normal and boring it all has become. As youngsters, we have dreams and ideas of where to go, what to do, and how the world should be and I feel that in age we lose these beautiful, uncontainable thoughts. Life has become dull, riddled with work and the inevitability of going home. Work and home. Work and home. Over and over again. And when I mention this to my friends, co-workers, and other compatriots, the only kind of response I get is..."What did you expect?" And I can't answer that question. I'm not sure what I expected. I guess I really didn't expect anything, which makes the true realization worse.

You see, I was given everything, and now that I reflect on this, I am very grateful. But it is because of this I feel life has taken a turn towards the mundane. I was taught and educated by my parents to do well in school, to make a life from an opportunity that they had missed so long ago. And I did do well. I eventually earned a scholarship that let me go to a university and graduate with a degree, the first in my family to do so. And, after only five months (which I have complained about, I know) I got a good job. Ten months later, I got a better job. These are not things to be embaressed. In fact, these are things to laud and be excited about. So why do I still feel so...empty?

I have wonderful friends, am currently working on my health, live in a beautiful place, and am getting control of my finanical situation which has always been a hindrance since graduating college.

Maybe it's because there's no more to look forward to. After grade school there was middle school. After middle school there was the excitement of high school. After high school there was the new and unknown adventures of college. And after college...well, that's just it. Nobody prepares you for that. We are told when we are younger to be prepared for the real world. I'm sure you notice how adults always say, "Enjoy it while you're young," and laugh and look at each other, acting as if we're ignorant to the fact...which it turns out, we are, or at least I was. I hated the idea that these older people even knew anything about me, where I was, and how I should enjoy my youth. And it turns out they were right. I think we can all agree that if we knew things then that we know now, aspects of our lives could have been different, and for the better.

We are not taught what to do in the real world. We find out on our own, and in this hard lesson we learn that it's not all it's cracked up to be. There are bills, money woes, the agonizing defeat of a difficult work day, the realization of the mortality of our parents, and the lack of imagniation we drew up on a whim so long ago. It's the little things too. The lack of my ability has for drinking, compared to five years ago. The downward spiral of energy I have today, as compared to years ago when I was ready to do anything, legal or not.

And I'm just 23.

What happens at 25? 30? 40? I can't even imagine. Do these thoughts get worse? Do we become trapped in this boring mortality? Is it still just work and home, work, and home?

Or am I just having a quarterlife crisis? Maybe it's not as boring as it seems. Maybe I have just plataued at the moment.

All I can say is that I hope something new and interesting happens. The days of going out to the bars, drinking, going home, watching movies, reading, and just hanging out are starting to lose their appeal. I want something new and stimulating.

Birthers. Are. Fail.

I can't believe there are still people out there who deny that President Barack Obama was born within the United States. Who are these people? Oh, that's right, republicans. I think Bill Maher said it best when he stated he'll show all these conservatives Obama's birth certificate when Sarah Palin shows us her high school diploma.

So, in the interest of fairness and to show how completely stupid and pointless this entire argument is, the link for President Obama's real life birth certificate can be found here.

And would you believe this? I didn't at first, but then again we can't put nothing past these ignorant conservatives. The birthers have actually forged a birth certificate of President Obama's stating that he was born in Kenya. You can find that story on Salon here.

The NFL Better Not...

From CBS:

Michael Vick was reinstated by NFL commissioner Roger Goodell on Monday and could play in regular season games as early as October. Vick can immediately participate in preseason practices, workouts and meetings and can play in the final two preseason games - if he can find a team that will sign him. A number of teams have already said they would not.

I myself am not a fan of animals, but I'm also not a fan of this:


No one better sign him.

Justice...Like Lightning

After all of the com planing. After all of the name calling. After all of the ad-hominems and hatred and whining and worry of all the old white leaders in Washington, Sonia Sotomayor's nomination as a Supreme Court Justice has finally been approved.

Whether this is good or bad cannot be seen right now. We have to see how she votes and where she lies with certain issues. I for one am not really sure about Ms. Sotomayor strictly based on her previous calls in certain cases. But what I am sure about is that these old racist conservatives now have no reason to attack this woman strictly because she's a Latina, a woman, and not as old as the stone age. At this moment, all I can really say is congratulations Your Honor!

Now don't disappoint...

Hillbilly Daze (Or the First and Only Time I Went to Jail), Part 2

The officer says to me, "You're the one who should have been driving." I thought he was an idiot at the moment, as I felt as drunk as any time I have ever been drunk before. Not so drunk that I wanted to vomit and pass out, but not weak drunk where I stand up and my body shifts to the left and right. Nope, just perfect drunk.

He makes M get out of the cop car. Then he places me in M's position. I'm now with my fellow compatriots J and S. M gets his own personal cop car. I would guess this was so due to his previous run-ins with the law. He did, of course, have a past shrouded in mystery and deliquency.

We arrived to the jail. They treated us like animals. The water they gave us was room temperature when it should have been chilled. The blankets they gave us were made of courdoroy. And oh, if you only knew how I loathed cordoroy, and still do to this very day. After all of the foreplay, they put S, J, and I into a cell where no one else was. Well, I should use the term cell loosely, as in fact it was what most consider the "drunk tank" (even though we were clearly sober...irony?). By law we were required to stay in this tank for eight hours. This rule was supposed to include M as well, who was put in his own special tank. However, thanks to his upper connections within the eastern Kentucky elite, he was able to make it out of jail within four hours, leaving the rest of us to suffer in pain and silence. What makes this situation more annoying is that it was his fault we were there in the first place, what with his irrational driving and such. Anyhoo, I digress...

We were cold. Lonely. Isolated. The room began getting colder and we all refused to use our blankets because we were sure they had been infested with some unclean bum who had been brought in off the streets of Pikeville. Eventually, however, we succumbed to the coldness and decided to use them after all. The very thought of it today disgusted us. It was finally time for our phone call. First J, then S, whose girlfriend naturally didn't answer the phone as she is completely oblivious to the fact that she even has one half the time. This is the girl that could have been our potential savior, and of course, no answer. Then it was my turn. As I approached the phone, I asked a jailer/law enforcer how this process worked: how much time did I have, was this the only call I could make, etc. He responded very rudely to me, treating me like trash. And you can tell what kind of person this was. This was a young redneck fool who knew nothing of the world. His ignorance obviously shined in high school, and because of this he was bullied, beaten, teased, made fun of, which are all things that should have happened to a person of such lower class. Now, because of all this, he decided the only way to get back at the ones who mistreated him would be to become a police officer and harass those young, rich, good-looking boys who get drunk during Hillbilly Daze and eventually get jailed. So, to all of the corrupt snooty cops out there who do not do well in their position and who only exist for retribution on those who deserved to do to you what they did, well to you I say fuck you, and I will have my own retribution.

I could barely remember any phone numbers. With today's dependence on cell phones, it almost seems pointless to try. But I knew two: my mother's, and a girl I had recently become acquainted with. Naturally, I called her. She then told my niece, who told my sister-in-law, who then called to check up on me. I couldn't answer of course. I was in jail. Back into the cell I went.

The seconds felt like minutes. The minutes felt like hours. And the hours felt like days. I literally do not understand how prisoners deal with the issue of time. In this cell I lost all concept and reality of the term. Time seemed to stand still. Meanwhile, more drunkards were placed in the cell. I had to protect J and S by proclaiming that they were my bitches to the rest of the imprisoned, and that they should not touch. One man was obviously high on crystal meth.

Boredom. Despair. Fear. And finally, a shining light. The door opens. It's time for us to go. We call H (thank goodness there was enough battery life in my phone). And then we go. This is the story of a time I spent in the wonderland of eastern Kentucky, in the hills of the Appalachian festival. This is the story of a time I was looking forward to celebrate my heritage through food and spirits. And this it the story of how three gentlmen, who had no previous contact with any kind of law enforcement, were abused, tortured, and harassed by corrupt officials.

I warn you this: Hillbilly Daze is not the fun loving alcohol swilling party you think it is. Despite what you might think, there are rules, even when they're shouldn't be. We should be able to drink until we die at a place called Hillbilly Days. Our Kentuckian forefathers would be ashamed.

A Message I Wrote to HSBC Credit Card Services, An Epic Failure of a Company

What I have just been through was a disaster. I typed in my password incorrectly twice. I have been using this damn thing for years. After I did that, it refused to let me have access to my account. I could reset it if I had my card number, but I shredded my card years ago. So now I can't reset it online. I called the customer help number, who then transferred me to someone else, who then transferred me to someone else, who then transferred me to someone else, who then transferred me to a non-English speaking gentlemen who finally told me that nothing could be done. It took four people to tell me that? Then, having graciously waited for close to an hour and a half, he told me they WOULD NOT reset my account even though I could provide my social security number, birth date, address, and could even give them the last four digits of the card. So now they are sending me a new card so I can set up my account online. But you, the overpaid neanderthal who gets paid to read these emails and then delete them without ever providing any sort of real customer care, will no doubt do the same to this very message. So to you I say, your system is a failure. I should have never gotten involved with HSBC, which is way too hard to do considering they have contracts with almost every retailer imaginable, and I implore you to get out of this impossible system.

Oh, and if the non-English speaking gentlemen I spoke to messed up and I don't receive my card within 10 to 15 business days, I will have no access to my account online, which means I will not be paying. I will not hold myself responsible for late fees, etc. because I am sending this message and have explained my case. Now, I work in a similar business, and know you're going to tack them on anyway, but I just want you to know that I know.

And be warned. If I don't receive this new card that I don't even want in the mail within the scheduled amount of time the non-English speaking agent told me, I will be highly infuriated. I will call, and one of your lowly operators will bare the brunt of my verbal aggression because of your incompetence.

Hope to be hearing from you! :)

Disney Magic Proposal

Someone sent this to me and it really brightened up my day. I can't tell if this is all fake or not though. Thoughts?

Hillbilly Daze (Or the First and Only Time I Went to Jail), Part 1

The trip had been planned for weeks. Five young college men, including myself, were going to make the excursion to my homeland, God's country, eastern Kentucky, Pike County to be exact. We were going to celebrate being Kentuckians...well, I'm being too coy. We were going to celebrate being bred from the state of moonshine, bluegrass, hot brown, fine women, bourbon, and tobacco. We were leaving Lexington, a place considered more civilized, and heading toward our roots. Well, mine, M's, and H's anyway. S and J blood came from elsewhere (the Centralists - both from the Louisville area). But we were leaving our fine city lives for a day or two to rediscover what it was like to be a hillbilly. In Pike County, naturally, at Hillbilly Daze, a festival celebrating the loudest and most jovial of us. I had never been before, but was no stranger to these types of festivals, having been from West Liberty, the motherland to the annual Sorghum Festival, a similar event, but with less alcohol content.

We got into M's Lexus, a very modest vehicle, big enough to fit the five of us, and began the two and a half hour trip back East. It didn't seem like it took that long. With all the stories, jokes, and laughing everyone had in the car we were there in no time. The first thing we did was stop at H's and say hello to his parents. It was the right thing to do, but they were certainly oblivious to the fact of the devious deeds we were about to accomplish in Pike County. Without counting into affect what everyone else had planned, I had but one goal: to demolish myself with enough food and alcohol that it would put Dwight Yoakum to shame. I was going to eat gyros and hot brown. I was going to consume enough beer and liquor that the stench would have been revolting, and I couldn't wait. I was, after all, celebrating my heritage as a hillbilly.

After the pleasantries at H's house we departed to go downtown to start the circus. When we arrived, the smells were overbearing. The smell of all the wonderful items being deep fried and covered with powdered sugar could make a small child cry. Hell, I almost did myself. The scents of meats and cheese permeated throughout the streets. Meanwhile, the people. Laughter, pure joviality, singing, dancing. Beautiful. We walked. We went down one street and up the other. The first drink: a large colorful tube of liquor and some sort of fruit-ice beverage. If you've ever seen Vegas Vacation , it looked like the beverage Cousin Eddie holds behind Clark at the blackjack table, the one he lights on fire. The liquor was very noticeable, and I am one to not enjoy the taste of fine liquors all that well, and I know that what they put in this certainly wasn't any fine liquor.

We pressed on.

The next drink: the beer section. This is where it began. One beer, two beers, three beers, four. On and on and on. People we knew came up to us, said hello, and moved on. For a while, a few of us remained here to consume as much alcohol as possible while the rest of us explored.

We pressed on.

Another drink here, another drink there, and before you know it everything was out of control. The Kentucky heat and humidity began to get to us, and those who are in Kentucky know, it's unstoppable. This, mixed with the amount of drunken buffoonery I had become, forced the idea in my head that it was time to find some air conditioned room somewhere for me to sleep this off and start again. M, J, S, and I were all in agreement. We had heard of a party happening somewhere up the hill, a perfect place for us to cool our heads, rest our bones, and re energize for the night that followed. H, whose girlfriend had accompanied us, was naturally forced by her to stay, and so we split. Now it was just M, J, S, and me. But H being gone would soon come in handy later.

I asked him. "M, are you okay to drive?"

"Definitely." Of course he would say that. He was never not okay to drive. He would prove this two times earlier in ways that I'm sure I'm not supposed to divulge, so I won't. Anyway, my desire for air conditioning outweighed my desire to survive a crash, but M was noticeably better off then any of us anyway. We were just going up the hill, not that far. And J and S were both on board. So why not?

We got into the Lexus. The cold air pushed itself on me. I have to tell you that I've been in a lot of vehicles, but a Lexus turns the hot air to ice in a matter of seconds. But I digress. M starts the engine. We drive. Everything seems fine. And then...the incident.

Traffic is bad, but the left turn to the hill is in sight. And this idea pops into M's head: "Why don't I just pass all this traffic using the opposite lane, and make the turn?" Yes M, why don't you. Without telling any of us what happened, he pulls out of the line of traffic, and is now driving in the opposite lane. I would say unbeknownst to any of us, and cop was waiting at the bottom of the hill. Be it was unbeknownst. J, S, and I had seen him from the distance, even before M started this ridiculous plan. Apparently, M did not. He makes the left turn. Up the hill he goes. And, well, you can probably guess what happens next.

The lights flash. The Lexus stops. M starts to freak out. He exclaims how he's going to go to jail, how he's going to lose his license. I turn around. J and S are having miniature freak outs of their own. S, who is known to stress during situations that deviate from the norm, is noticeably...well, stressed. J remained quiet, like he does anyway. The cop approaches M's door. "What were you doing, sir?" M mumbled something back, but nothing that really made any sense. He takes the license, the registration, and what we dreaded most came next. "Could you please step out of the car, sir?" He did. The dreaded TEST was being executed. Left in front of right, FAILED. Breathalyzer, FAILED. Into the back of the cop car he goes. Next...S. Breathalyzer, FAILED. He's gone too. Just me and J. At that point it felt like a game of elimination, like 1 vs. 100 or something. J is up next. FAILED. Into the car with the other two. Now it's my turn. Breath. He doesn't tell me the result. I looked in the car where the other three are being held captive. I began to chuckle slightly, as the situation was kind of humorous. S certainly didn't think so. But I wasn't laughing at them. I was laughing at myself. Earlier, I had expressed my angst towards H for leaving us with the woman. And now all I could think was...

"He's going to be so glad he didn't come with us..."

------------------------------------------END Part 1--------------------------------

These Are Books I Want...

But don't seem to have time to buy and read. Boo...

-Breaking Rank: A Top Cop's Expose of the Dark Side of American Policing by Norm Stamper

-Becoming Batman: The Possibility of a Superhero by E. Paul Zehr

-Shop Class as Soulcraft: An Inquiry Into the Value of Work by Matthew B. Crawford

-The Pleasures and Sorrows of Work by Alain De Botton

-Batman and Philosophy: The Dark Knight of the Soul by Mark D. White

-This is Your Country on Drugs: The Secret History of Getting High in America by Ryan Grim

-Both Ways is the Only Way I Want It by Maile Meloy

-Creeker: A Woman's Journey by Linda Scott DeRosier

One day I'm going to have them all checked off my list. One day...

Dishonesty

It makes me angry when people aren't completely honest with me. I'm a person who likes to deal with problems head on, whether they are personal or through work. I consider myself really great at assessing situations, making the right calls and judgments, and knowing what to do if I have all the information. So when I don't get all the information, or am being lied to, I can't help.