Winnie the Pooh and Zombie Pigs

I haven’t posted in awhile.  I apologize to the one reader who checks this blog–me.  I have something to get off my chest and it is very serious.  So serious in fact that I will write about it’s seriousness before I can begin to explain just how serious the seriousness of this situation is.  It is so serious that as I type this Winnie the fucking Pooh is terrified.  Yes, I said Winnie the Pooh (reference image at the bottom of the post when done reading this article).

Kristen and Liz, as well as a few of my coworkers have determined that the Zombie Apocalypse is soon to be upon us.  We really have no weaponry to combat them, other than bacon (which I will not give to them) and  beer–also something they will not get from me. 

To this conclusion a plan has been drawn up for when a full outbreak occurs.  It is a combination of 28 Weeks Later, and Shaun of the Dead–he has a cool name doesn’t he.  Basically an island will be our base a.k.a. Zombie Island.  The name will throw the Zombies off thinking that it is already inhabited by their kind (i.e.  Greenland/Iceland).  We (Me and a few others) will lead a nation of humanities last remaining few.  We will then head to the main land for provisions and general target practice.

Of course we will be rescuing a few other survivors while on the mainland, these people will work the farms and help in the general economic growth of the Island.  Basically, to eat, have shelter, have beer, and all the bacon in the world, you will have to work and produce a useful and sustainable commodity that is beneficial to the community without being overly materialistic.

Either way this was a long post with really no general insight into why I haven’t posted in a long time other than I have been busy, doing nothing, finding jobs that won’t hire me and generally being disappointed in what I feel is the meaning of life thus far–work, work, work.

Either you’re slingin’ crack-rock, or you’ve got a wicked jump-shot.

I watch this movie Boiler Room every now and then.  Basically it is about a guy who is not entirely comfortable in his own life and wants to make it big.  Wants to make milliones.  His parents constantly harass him about his current job choice–and underground casino.  He leaves the illegal gambling casino world to make it the “white boy way of slingin’ crack-rock.  He became a stock broker.”  He did it all to please his father who was coming down on him for not being as successful as him.

I feel like sometimes my life is like that.  I try to please my parents.  Particularly my father.  He wants to see that degree he partially paid for to use.  I have been trying, contacting people I know, hunting down dead leads for jobs that pay only a few dollars more than what I make now.  I was waiting around for 6 months before I was notified that I wasn’t going to be able to get my security clearance for the government.  That was hard for me to take, and I think my father took it as if he was the one losing a job opportunity.

I recently encountered a job I found online working for a book distributor and I would be a software engineer.  I would be making a lot more than I am currently, and putting that wonderful piece of paper hanging on my bedroom wall to use.  The downside if it is a downside would be working with Blondee.  It is her company I would be working at.  Blondee said I may even be the cubicle right next to hers.  She said they are understaffed and now would be a good time.  That doesn’t sound like a downside does it?

Well, if anyone knows her and knows me, they know my relationship with her is complicated.  They know that it can be confusing and arguably one that I hope will not cause issue if I were to work there.  We would be the disfunctional Jim and Pam from The Office.  I don’t know if I could take a serious issue occuring between us and then have to see her the next day.  Most people I have been romantically involved with I have never talked to again.  Most of those people I don’t want to see for a plethora of reasons.  Honestly, I don’t see her enough during the week, and we don’t discuss certain aspects of our lives to each other, maybe out of respect for the other person.  I think if I saw her everyday I would love it and the more I see what I may not want to see, I would hate it.  There is also the fact that we both know it will never work out anyways and I just hold a false sense of hope.  What if we talked more about it?  That won’t happen.  We don’t discuss our feelings.

Either way, I think a new job would be amazing and one where I could make more money and be a little bit more creative would be refreshing.  I think I can get past all the emotional drama/baggage and be happy at a new place of work.  Besides Blondee is someone I enjoy spending time with.  The money would also help me finance everything I have going on currently.

This post just turned into a long rant without any focus.  Oh well.  I don’t feel like fixing it.

maybe there I can tell her all those things they don’t have words for here…

Tonight after work I met with a Financial Representative.  He called me after obtaining my number from a few of my friends.  We met at Starbucks and basically discussed my life as it relates to money.  I gave him the break down on what I spend my money on.

70% bills.

30% Alcohol and Cigarettes.

During the meeting he asked me what my goals were, professionally and personally.  Professionally I want a better job, this was the easiest of the two answers.  I explained to him how much I make, I explained how much I should be making.  I also explained that today I was denied the government contractor job that I had excepted back in October.  This is because of issues with my security clearance screening.  These reason were not divulged to me.

Personally was the hardest question.  I don’t know what I want personally that he could help me with.  Monetarily I just want to be comfortable and not live paycheck to paycheck.  But personally I do not care about money, or clothes, or fancy things that everyone seems to find “all the rage” at the moment.  I almost just want to be.  I find it hard to “just be” because my current job which I loathe so much sucks the soul out of me.  A certain personal relationships sucks the soul out of me.

I am pretty much realizing that life is full of  “what ifs.”  What if I tried harder in college.  What if I picked a different major.  What if I worked out.  What if I didn’t drink or smoke so much.  What if I was still with one of my exes.  What if Prude Girl didn’t goto another country for a year.  What if I never met Blondee.  What if, what if, what if, what if, what if.

Granted I can not sit around and dwell on all the what ifs.  I can dwell on the idea that I have a 50,000+ dollar diploma hanging on my bedroom wall and not an office.  I can dwell on how shitty my job is, and I can dwell on how shitty my personal relationships have gone over the past two years.  I guess I’ll just have to keep thumbing my way until I get where I am going.

Write a book…

I want to write a book.  I don’t know what I want it to be about.  I don’t have many ideas and I don’t know how to put so many words into something that makes sense.  I also wonder if I could focus my ideas into something that will span for a few hundred pages.

Who is that kid in the picture?

I was looking through some pictures I have stored on my hard drive.  Most go back to my freshman year in college but one particular picture goes back to when I was really young.  I am about the height of my Australian Shepard and I am wearing a teal striped shirt.  I am not old enough to care about laces so I have Velcro shoes and a belt that probably is not of any use but to please my father’s idea that “all men should wear belts and tuck their shirts in.”  That idea went out the window a long time ago.  I am at my grandparents old house in Maryland when the picture was taken.

I don’t remember much about those younger years.  I look at that picture and I wonder who that kid is, and where he went?  That kid is unshaped by life experiences.  He hasn’t experienced any “real” pain, he hasn’t decided that girls will ruin his life,  he isn’t working at a job that is slowly sucking the life out of him.  He just is.  He is that facial expression on his face.  Happy in that moment.

If my current life was captured in still images, I wonder what the facial expressions would be.  Would it be sadness, grief, happiness, intoxication.  I think most would be drunk, most photos of me taken now are those of me drunk.  The only difference is more facial hair, and a different colored striped shirt.  The kid in the picture didn’t drink, he was years away from his first drink.  Girls didn’t ruin him yet, he wasn’t emotionally distant.  He was open and ready to feel experiences.

We can’t go back to who we were in those pictures.  I think sometimes we try.  Sometimes life throws so many curve balls and unless you are jacked up like A-roid then you will have trouble keeping most of them in play.

I hear these statements from the older generation constantly:

“Life is not fair.”  “Sometimes you have to do things you don’t want to do.”  “That degree will help you find a job.”  “Being an Eagle Scout will help you later in life.”

How man of these statements do we agree with.  Most of them, none of them, some of them.  I can say that I disagree with all of them.  My collegiate career prepared me for little.  My Eagle Scout award didn’t help me with anything.  Doing things I don’t want to do only piss me off more.  Life is not fair, that irratates me the most.  People who say that are not willing to try and change anything.  That little boy in the picture would fight for change.  The drunk man in the picture would fight for change still, but how long until he just gives up and settles for the mundane life that every other person settles for.  We will have to see.

I will not say it, I will not say it

Its almost the worst day in Feburary.  Dare I say its name?  Someone will say it eventually.  I won’t say it.  NO.  You can’t make me.  I promise I won’t say it.  Maybe just the first syllabal.  No, I can’t.

This holiday is one of those hallmark holidays that most people are required to participate in.  It is also the last in a long list of holidays that occupy the depressing winter season.  Those little boxes of candy in the shape of a heart that people never eat and if they do they avoid the ones that look and taste like shit.  The flowers galore that flood doorsteps and offices and the smell of putride love in the air.

I should take a step back.  I understand I may be taking to much of my frustration out on this holiday.  After all its not Valent—i can’t say its name, i won’t say it–it is my fault right.  Maybe I don’t try hard enough to find someone for such occassions.  Maybe I am to preoccupied with my current chaotic relationship, that isn’t even a relationship so much as a friendship that has deep roots that refuse to be dug up and moved to a new location.  I like to think our relationship is one of those where we are so entangled right now and that would hurt to much if we were to cut things off completly.  At least that is how I would feel about the situation.

Either way my weekend will not so much be a celebration of the holiday as it will be an anti-celebration.  Blondee and I will get drunk on a few bottles of wine and watch indie movies.  Probably my most favorite two things to do in the world.  Hopefully it won’t be too depressing but we will see.  After all its just Valentine’s Day (shit, I said it), its only one day and it will pass.

I’ve got the perfect girl for you…

[I apologize to you if I don't seem real eager to jump into a forced awkward intimate situation that people like to call dating. I don't like the feeling. You're sitting there, you're wondering do I have food on my face, am I eating, am I talking too much, are they talking enough, am I interested I'm not really interested, should I play like I'm interested but I'm not that interested but I think she might be interested but do I want to be interested but now she's not interested? So all of the sudden I'm getting, I'm starting to get interested... And when am I supposed to kiss her? Do I have to wait for the door cause then it's awkward, it's like well goodnight. Do you do like that ass-out hug? Where you like, you hug each other like this and your ass sticks out cause you're trying not to get too close or do you just go right in and kiss them on the lips or don't kiss them at all? It's very difficult trying to read the situation. And all the while you're just really wondering are we gonna get hopped up enough to make some bad decisions? Perhaps play a little game called "just the tip". Just for a second, just to see how it feels. Or, ouch, ouch you're on my hair. --Wedding Crashers]

I am still in a weird state of mind.  I went on a date recently.  It was more of a double date and with a girl whom I had never met prior to our handshake at the beginning–a loose grip, ugh this is going downhill already. 

She had the body type of a barbie.  She was gorgeous, blonde hair, perfect breasts and wearing knee high boots that you could follow perfectly up her thighs to the outline of her whole hourglass shaped body.  I can see myself wanting her.  I could see us hitting it off and dating and moving on to the perfect relationship, and then it hit my like a pile of bricks.  I came out of my coma.  I remembered this girls is nineteen.  She goes to MICA, she doesn’t have any real world experiances and legally she is not allowed to drink.  All these things need to be taken into account when finding a mate.  I tried to ignore these facts but the bricks just keep piling up, higher and higher.  I would have to tear down the Bastille if I want to get to her.

We started off as most awkard dates go.  With the small talk.  What do you do?  Where did/do you goto school?  HOW OLD ARE YOU AGAIN?  I guess the only good thing is that it was a double date so when conversation lacked I would talk to my coworker, known only as “black lip.”  He was dating Barbie’s roommate who was not attractive in any sense of the word.

I tried to conversate with the nineteen year old, but she was either distant or just to dumb to understand how converation worked.  Apparently I hear that she has been looking to date someone and even posted an ad on craigslist (I thought that was only for hookups and fat people).  ANYWAYS, after a few beers we all head to Red Robin where further conversating begins and by this point I have opted to date my Jack and Coke and not the hot blonde barbie I am on a date with.

Going out for a smoke after dinner while the girls “powder their noses,” Black Lip asks me why I am not trying to score with Barbie since she is hot.  I begin to tell him, she is 19, she hasn’t graduated from college, she has no serious life experiances, and her parents didn’t bless her with a brains to go with that body.  He berates me and still does at work, stating I could have scored with her anyways, just told her what I she wanted to hear and got laid.

It sucks having to defend why you don’t want to bang some hot girl that just comes along.  I guess I don’t want to fall back into the sewing of wild oats person I was at a certain time.  I want something more but I also don’t like dating.  It is uncomfortable, I would rather go to a pub with some live music and have a pint and talk a little.  I could even settle for a cup of coffee and some small talk.  There is nothing serious to be expected other than two people chatting.  A real date has so much set in it.  You miss so much wondering what the other person thinks and whether or not you think what they think about them.

I suppose I am currently comfortable in the chaoctic relationships I have developed over the past few months with Blondee.  Even though we both know nothing will ever amount to anything we proceed to have sleepovers and enjoy each others company when we can, when we need a break from the “real world.”  I guess my false idea of our relationship and my bleak hope for something more to develop sometimes is holding me back from doing more with others like Barbie.  If only I could find a way to not become so emotionally eveloped in one person.  Life is a marathon, not a sprint…I seem to like sprinting these days.