Personal Transportation.
This is a major topic that I like to discuss openly with anyone, via public forum, or those nights where I stumble to the bar. I feel, and this is my personal view that public transportation is honestly one of the greatest mistakes that America choose. By abandoning the concept of public and socialized transport, by having this notion that everyone should own their own car, honestly as a society I think we went backwards rather than forwards.
Many people tell me that having their own car is convenient, allows them to not rely on useless and often unreliable public transit. And I agree with that sentiment. It is nice not having to rely on something or someone in order to go out and take control of your own life. However, how inconvenient is waiting five minutes for an express to downtown, or catching the local at night, just cause you know they stop at the stop only one block from your apartment rather than ten.
Having spent some time in areas where public transit is actually convenient and reliable, it's hard to go to an area where everyone is expected to have their own car. Where not having your own car is an actual manner to which people find themselves unable to survive legitimately. Yet, in these trying times, what good does having a useless public transit system do anyone any good?
Personal transport is nothing more than a bourgeoisie notion of creating class distinctions. Luxury models, family sedans, junkers, walkers, bikers. We believe in the idea that all men are created equal, and this is the land of opportunity, yet, if one isn't able to afford a steel frame and rubber wheels, then all you get to do is watch the freedom and future go by while you wait for the two fifteen which is already twenty minutes late...
When we as a country decided to let the trains be stopped, when we let the buses go to shit, the subways be filled. We as a society moved backwards, since we needed the freedom of our own gas guzzling road hazard.
Saturday, June 26, 2010
Sunday, June 20, 2010
Reservations
Recently with events in my family as they are, I've decided to take some time away from the CITY and head home in order to help stabilize and facilitate the craziness that is my family. Not something I'm overly fond of doing, but something that I need to do.
I've always felt estranged from my family, no matter what I said, what I did, I never quite fit in with them. They always seemed to view me as some sort of odd ball amongst their rather diverse and shall we say, equally as psychotic as myself, but on such a different spectrum, when I see blue, all they see is red. As a result, I haven't been home in what I would like to say has been close to almost two years now. I'm nervous and excited all at the same time, as this, is kind of a chance for me to reconnect with people that I haven't had much of a connection with in. Sad to say i can't even recall the last time I did have a connection with them.
This sadly comes at a rather awkward time for me though, as I've felt that I was finally becoming a true New Yorker, I'm poor, I'm hungry, and when it comes down to it, I'll make rent and my weekly bar special before I give that loans another thought. So my business practice might not be what I call THE BEST. But honestly, from what I've heard from everyone, we're talking about the most blood sucking sadistic bastards ever. On all those stupid debt commercials, no one ever hears about how the poor college kid is working three jobs to just make rent and groceries. Or how the mother of four with no father had to send the last vestiges of her paycheck to make sure that her kids have a place to sleep, but is so scared to answer the phone she unplugs it.
I have so many reservations right now, about my credit, about my trip, about coming back to this city, FULLY realizing that I'll go right back to maybe one meal a week, or none at all. Where I stand in line at the Duane Reade, buying a chocolate bar just so that I have the energy to walk about looking for better paying jobs. This is the life I wanted, who knows, maybe things turn around, maybe they don't. In either case, this trip I think will do me some good. Sure I'll probably be writing how the oppressive heat, nagging parents, and constant bickering of trying to relate to a demographic I no longer identify with is all driving me up the wall.
But, lets be honest, since when I have ever not been bitching about something anyway.
I've always felt estranged from my family, no matter what I said, what I did, I never quite fit in with them. They always seemed to view me as some sort of odd ball amongst their rather diverse and shall we say, equally as psychotic as myself, but on such a different spectrum, when I see blue, all they see is red. As a result, I haven't been home in what I would like to say has been close to almost two years now. I'm nervous and excited all at the same time, as this, is kind of a chance for me to reconnect with people that I haven't had much of a connection with in. Sad to say i can't even recall the last time I did have a connection with them.
This sadly comes at a rather awkward time for me though, as I've felt that I was finally becoming a true New Yorker, I'm poor, I'm hungry, and when it comes down to it, I'll make rent and my weekly bar special before I give that loans another thought. So my business practice might not be what I call THE BEST. But honestly, from what I've heard from everyone, we're talking about the most blood sucking sadistic bastards ever. On all those stupid debt commercials, no one ever hears about how the poor college kid is working three jobs to just make rent and groceries. Or how the mother of four with no father had to send the last vestiges of her paycheck to make sure that her kids have a place to sleep, but is so scared to answer the phone she unplugs it.
I have so many reservations right now, about my credit, about my trip, about coming back to this city, FULLY realizing that I'll go right back to maybe one meal a week, or none at all. Where I stand in line at the Duane Reade, buying a chocolate bar just so that I have the energy to walk about looking for better paying jobs. This is the life I wanted, who knows, maybe things turn around, maybe they don't. In either case, this trip I think will do me some good. Sure I'll probably be writing how the oppressive heat, nagging parents, and constant bickering of trying to relate to a demographic I no longer identify with is all driving me up the wall.
But, lets be honest, since when I have ever not been bitching about something anyway.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Keeping Hope: When It's All You Have
Well, I'm just a couple of days away from reaching what will have been an official month in NYC. Things are hard, that is for sure. I'm down to my last vestiges of what I'd like to call funds, and am going to have to call in some favors from the family. I am none too pleased with having this conversation since they made it pretty clear that they did not appreciate nor validate this decision of mine. Sometimes, when I'm up late at night unable to sleep, I wonder if they are right. But, thankfully, those are passing thoughts that never linger for very long. I've learned over the years to just move past my preconceived notions. Things are hard, but I'd be lying if I said I wasn't happy here.
On a positive note, my feet no longer ache or complain from all the walking that I do. I'm thinking of heading into the city tomorrow and just kind of losing myself like when I first came here. Haven't done that in a while, and I just kind of feel the need to just get on the Metro and head to who knows where. It's one of those great places that you can kind of just move about and totally immerse yourself in something new or different. Thinking about Bryant Park perhaps.
Sad to say that I was unable to actually complete anything for this writing competition that someone told me about sadly. It seemed right up my alley, and the sad sad fact was, that I was just unable to actually produce anything that I was personally happy with. I started about six different stories, but nothing felt appropriate for the moment. As strange as that sounds to some. When I write, I get these kind of prescient glances of what the story will be, but sometimes sadly, my mind can't actually reach what my imagination has envisioned. I get frustrated, and I kind of let it sit on the back burner and percolate for god knows how long before I just inevitably forget about it, and much like the coffee I would make as a child, it'd burn.
This is not to say that I don't feel inspired here, but when it comes to contests, I do sadly get very competitive, and will refuse to submit anything that doesn't reach my standards. Which can be overtly high when they don't need to be. Well that's life.
I worry how things are going to turn out. But, really, what's the point of that? I'm not the first to make this venture, I'm not the last. But I can say, just cause I know, don't ask me to say how. I'm meant to be here.
On a positive note, my feet no longer ache or complain from all the walking that I do. I'm thinking of heading into the city tomorrow and just kind of losing myself like when I first came here. Haven't done that in a while, and I just kind of feel the need to just get on the Metro and head to who knows where. It's one of those great places that you can kind of just move about and totally immerse yourself in something new or different. Thinking about Bryant Park perhaps.
Sad to say that I was unable to actually complete anything for this writing competition that someone told me about sadly. It seemed right up my alley, and the sad sad fact was, that I was just unable to actually produce anything that I was personally happy with. I started about six different stories, but nothing felt appropriate for the moment. As strange as that sounds to some. When I write, I get these kind of prescient glances of what the story will be, but sometimes sadly, my mind can't actually reach what my imagination has envisioned. I get frustrated, and I kind of let it sit on the back burner and percolate for god knows how long before I just inevitably forget about it, and much like the coffee I would make as a child, it'd burn.
This is not to say that I don't feel inspired here, but when it comes to contests, I do sadly get very competitive, and will refuse to submit anything that doesn't reach my standards. Which can be overtly high when they don't need to be. Well that's life.
I worry how things are going to turn out. But, really, what's the point of that? I'm not the first to make this venture, I'm not the last. But I can say, just cause I know, don't ask me to say how. I'm meant to be here.
Saturday, June 12, 2010
Same Shit, Different Place
3 weeks now, been in the city for 3 weeks, and what can I say other than, it feels a hell of a lot longer than that. Time seems to have an odd way of working in this city. Some days feel like they are only hours long, others feel that they actually take more than one day to finish. I'm getting to the point that if I didn't have my cell phone I wouldn't know what day of the week it actually is. Thankfully though, I'm somewhat aware of my surroundings enough to know that as of right now, things are, stable is the word we're going to use.
In a way they feel very akin to how things were in Rochester, I'm still concerned about money, but I always am. I'm getting unnecessary calls from the loans, saying I need to make payments, but I already did, I'm covered for a good amount of time actually. And from details that my parents give me, my grandfather was recently hospitalized. The latter of that list is really the only thing that's been on my mind lately to be honest.
My grandfather is a great man, who I dearly respect and love. He is one of the few people who believed that I should actually pursue a career in writing. Stating that it must be in the blood, since he himself was a writer in his teen years. Actually this is a great story. My grandfather worked for the local fishwrap of Juarez when he was just 18 years old, my mother has his old typewriter that he used. On one assignment he wrote about the Mexican Cartels and as a result, was supposed to be executed. His mother immediately sought asylum for him and my grandmother in America, provided he would share the data that he had uncovered. As a result, both my grandparents were offered American citizenship, and a short while after that, my mother was born. Writing is in my blood.
Yet, with his recent hospitalization, the pressing fact that I'm so poor at the moment that I can't go and see him, I did a rather morbid thing the other night. I wrote him a good bye letter. Something that in my family is considered a huge mistake. I know he's going to be fine, cause after dealing with that family for over fifty years, there is no way that he's going to be taken down so easily. However, the idea of not being able to say good bye to his face, has weighed heavy on my mind for the past few days. I thought about just packing up and going to see him. But, somehow I know he would be disappointed to know that I stopped my life just for him. This post goes out to my grandfather. A great and beloved man who I know will be better in no time.
I've thankfully avoided disaster once again, but selling a few of my old video games for cash, i went from having ten dollars to my name to having sixty. Just goes to show you that good things can happen afterall.
In a way they feel very akin to how things were in Rochester, I'm still concerned about money, but I always am. I'm getting unnecessary calls from the loans, saying I need to make payments, but I already did, I'm covered for a good amount of time actually. And from details that my parents give me, my grandfather was recently hospitalized. The latter of that list is really the only thing that's been on my mind lately to be honest.
My grandfather is a great man, who I dearly respect and love. He is one of the few people who believed that I should actually pursue a career in writing. Stating that it must be in the blood, since he himself was a writer in his teen years. Actually this is a great story. My grandfather worked for the local fishwrap of Juarez when he was just 18 years old, my mother has his old typewriter that he used. On one assignment he wrote about the Mexican Cartels and as a result, was supposed to be executed. His mother immediately sought asylum for him and my grandmother in America, provided he would share the data that he had uncovered. As a result, both my grandparents were offered American citizenship, and a short while after that, my mother was born. Writing is in my blood.
Yet, with his recent hospitalization, the pressing fact that I'm so poor at the moment that I can't go and see him, I did a rather morbid thing the other night. I wrote him a good bye letter. Something that in my family is considered a huge mistake. I know he's going to be fine, cause after dealing with that family for over fifty years, there is no way that he's going to be taken down so easily. However, the idea of not being able to say good bye to his face, has weighed heavy on my mind for the past few days. I thought about just packing up and going to see him. But, somehow I know he would be disappointed to know that I stopped my life just for him. This post goes out to my grandfather. A great and beloved man who I know will be better in no time.
I've thankfully avoided disaster once again, but selling a few of my old video games for cash, i went from having ten dollars to my name to having sixty. Just goes to show you that good things can happen afterall.
Tuesday, June 8, 2010
The Truth of Scripture
So, recently since my moving to the City, many people, new and old have been asking me about my tattoos. Long, and I think beautiful script depicting two rather at times odd, but very poignant quotes about how I wish to live my life. As odd as it may seem. In my earlier years I had a rather bad account of cutting myself on the thighs, so that no one would ever see. I still have the scars to this day. So why on my arms? During my more troubling years I started to have desires of cutting my forearms. And one rather auspicious day, I cut myself from my elbow to my wrist on my right arm. Claiming that i must have scratched myself during my sleep.
Sad but true. Then, the person who mattered the most to me at the time, took me aside, and slapped me across the face. He told me that if I needed to do crazy things, then I needed to think long and hard about my consequences, who else is affected when I do something like this, who else suffers, when I make awful decisions that make those around me cry and feel like they don't mean anything at all.
So, after I sadly had to leave that person behind, I moved back to Rochester, and on my birthday, I got the first of my two tattoos.
"A man's errors are his portals of discovery." James Joyce.
Well, with the first one forever inscribed into my skin, I looked longingly at the other arm, wondering if I didn't have the same insurance on me, would I make a mistake? Would I slip up again. Not wanting to be uneven, and for fear of not being strong enough. I went four days later and got my second one.
"A man can be destroyed but not defeated." Ernest Hemingway.
So that's the story of why I'm ink'ed on my forearms. While it's true that I always wanted these, sometimes it's a hard reminder looking at them in the morning realizing why I had gotten them in the first place. Regardless of that though, these quotes, these trails of ink that so eloquently describe me, are my treasures, ones that will follow me to the end of time.
Sad but true. Then, the person who mattered the most to me at the time, took me aside, and slapped me across the face. He told me that if I needed to do crazy things, then I needed to think long and hard about my consequences, who else is affected when I do something like this, who else suffers, when I make awful decisions that make those around me cry and feel like they don't mean anything at all.
So, after I sadly had to leave that person behind, I moved back to Rochester, and on my birthday, I got the first of my two tattoos.
"A man's errors are his portals of discovery." James Joyce.
Well, with the first one forever inscribed into my skin, I looked longingly at the other arm, wondering if I didn't have the same insurance on me, would I make a mistake? Would I slip up again. Not wanting to be uneven, and for fear of not being strong enough. I went four days later and got my second one.
"A man can be destroyed but not defeated." Ernest Hemingway.
So that's the story of why I'm ink'ed on my forearms. While it's true that I always wanted these, sometimes it's a hard reminder looking at them in the morning realizing why I had gotten them in the first place. Regardless of that though, these quotes, these trails of ink that so eloquently describe me, are my treasures, ones that will follow me to the end of time.
Thursday, June 3, 2010
Networking, it's what you need to do
I've never been the most OUTgoing of individuals sadly. I have my moments when I can open up and be much more agreeable towards people. But I'd be the last person to say that I'm an extroverted individual. Sadly, that's gonna get you nowhere in the CITY. One has to learn to drop these preconceived notions of fear and uncertainty and move on with life. As such I've met some rather interesting and fun people by being more agreeable and warming to them on first impression.
As such I met a rather interesting group of loud and crass actors that I won't lie, I REALLY get along with. Normally me and actors have had a, lets call it strained life, since normally we are all a bit too out there for each other. But to be honest, this group and me do quite well together. We laugh, we joke, we get injured, we drink, there isn't about a comment from any of us that couldn't be considered a sin in some demographic, yet that's kind of what makes life fun isn't it :D.
I'm still looking for a full time employment. One of my new friends feels that I should bartend. Something that many of you know, I REALLY REALLY love to do. However, like anything, bartending is rather difficult in times of hardships, since many people will flock to it, thinking it's an easy way to make a buck. I won't lie that the money is good, but seriously, it does take a certain individual to bartend. The most important fact being, that you are not there to be a buddy buddy with all your friends when they come into the bar. Yes, if they come out to support you, that's fantastic. HOWEVER, your point is to serve people drinks. If you couldn't tell, I went into a small local bar, and was quite displeased when this rabble of blond bimbos in heels came in screaming like a punch of idiots. Me and the other patrons grew quite, i say QUITE livid at this. So, while she was busy serving her friends only and forgetting the rest of us, I simply walked behind the bar and served myself and the three others in the small run down dive.
To say that this girl was angry would be an understatement. She came at me as if I had just walked in on her naked. I simply looked at her and smiled, as I finished pouring the drinks, and told her, that if she wanted to hang with her friends, to go ahead, but right now I wanted service, so I treated this like the self serve checkout at Wal-Mart, where she had obviously bought that blouse. Needless to say I was asked to leave, and the other patrons and I went to a better bar that I have been frequenting and enjoyed some cheap drinks, courtesy of the bartender who said,and I quote "that bitch got problems, I'm surprised you guys ain't sober."
All in all, times have been good.
As such I met a rather interesting group of loud and crass actors that I won't lie, I REALLY get along with. Normally me and actors have had a, lets call it strained life, since normally we are all a bit too out there for each other. But to be honest, this group and me do quite well together. We laugh, we joke, we get injured, we drink, there isn't about a comment from any of us that couldn't be considered a sin in some demographic, yet that's kind of what makes life fun isn't it :D.
I'm still looking for a full time employment. One of my new friends feels that I should bartend. Something that many of you know, I REALLY REALLY love to do. However, like anything, bartending is rather difficult in times of hardships, since many people will flock to it, thinking it's an easy way to make a buck. I won't lie that the money is good, but seriously, it does take a certain individual to bartend. The most important fact being, that you are not there to be a buddy buddy with all your friends when they come into the bar. Yes, if they come out to support you, that's fantastic. HOWEVER, your point is to serve people drinks. If you couldn't tell, I went into a small local bar, and was quite displeased when this rabble of blond bimbos in heels came in screaming like a punch of idiots. Me and the other patrons grew quite, i say QUITE livid at this. So, while she was busy serving her friends only and forgetting the rest of us, I simply walked behind the bar and served myself and the three others in the small run down dive.
To say that this girl was angry would be an understatement. She came at me as if I had just walked in on her naked. I simply looked at her and smiled, as I finished pouring the drinks, and told her, that if she wanted to hang with her friends, to go ahead, but right now I wanted service, so I treated this like the self serve checkout at Wal-Mart, where she had obviously bought that blouse. Needless to say I was asked to leave, and the other patrons and I went to a better bar that I have been frequenting and enjoyed some cheap drinks, courtesy of the bartender who said,and I quote "that bitch got problems, I'm surprised you guys ain't sober."
All in all, times have been good.
Tuesday, June 1, 2010
No Profit at the, well anywhere really
So here I am, poor, living on random excuses for furniture, and wondering where my money will soon be coming from. I have one more paycheck from my previous job that will add, what I like to call a pittance to my already miserable bank account. Not that I'm worried or anything mind you. Honestly, I'm not, which is kind of odd, the last time I was in Rochester and this was happening, i couldn't sleep, my eyes were bloodshot, and I was so nervous as to what I would do.
But whatever, this is definitely an adventure worth having. Every day I grab the train to somewhere new and just see what I can find. I've found the area in Brooklyn that I want to live. It's fun, laid back, close to a good subway stop, and has a couple of great bars that honestly serve good drinks, and aren't filled to the brim with jackasses. If you've been to the strew of Chelsea bars, you'd understand what I'm talking about. Yet, regardless of all that, I don't honestly care.
Today is going to be dedicated to job hunting for something stable, some crappy office job I'm sure, but whatever. This is about surviving, not being completely happy. Happiness will come when I'm living in a quaint little brownstone. I know this is a rather small post today, but I mean, nothing has really changed over the past few days, but I did feel I needed to update something. Hoping to keep you all updated with better news next time. And with that, I'm out.
But whatever, this is definitely an adventure worth having. Every day I grab the train to somewhere new and just see what I can find. I've found the area in Brooklyn that I want to live. It's fun, laid back, close to a good subway stop, and has a couple of great bars that honestly serve good drinks, and aren't filled to the brim with jackasses. If you've been to the strew of Chelsea bars, you'd understand what I'm talking about. Yet, regardless of all that, I don't honestly care.
Today is going to be dedicated to job hunting for something stable, some crappy office job I'm sure, but whatever. This is about surviving, not being completely happy. Happiness will come when I'm living in a quaint little brownstone. I know this is a rather small post today, but I mean, nothing has really changed over the past few days, but I did feel I needed to update something. Hoping to keep you all updated with better news next time. And with that, I'm out.
Sunday, May 23, 2010
Transitions
Day 1: How to describe the trip out of Rochester.......HELL. I was totally late and unprepared, and slightly if ever so slightly hung over. Which made the trip that much harder I suppose. I desperately tried to keep myself together, but I've found that, try as I might, things usually just end up either A, working them out themselves, or B, just getting INFINATELY WORSE. So after what felt like almost 11 hours in the car, it turned into 40 once we hit the highways here in the city :-). But after selling the air, listening to the sounds, I realized. I'm home.
Day 2: So one of the contingencies to coming to NYC was that I was unfortunately expected to participate in this rather ridiculous scavenger hunt for a new social networking site called. FABULIS. We had to run around Manhattan for 6 hours. Needs to say, I killed a pair of shoes that day. Everything ended with us having spent only 24$ and a champagne toast. Yes, we def partook in that. That night we went out to a club and danced the night away. I went to the couch that I was bumming at the time, and PASSED OUT.
Day 3: So day 3, and I was still in the same outfit I had been wearing since the night before my last in Rochester. Filled with some rather good and bad memories, I opted to go shopping and buy a whole new outfit to counter the fact that I knew I smelled and felt beyond grody. After all that, I decided it was time head home, and after a long long LONG day of shopping and frolicking around town, we went home and slept. LOL.
Day 4: AH MONDAY! HATE HATE HATE. BUT WAIT. I had an interview, at the Chelsea YMCA, did I get it? Yeah, I'm pretty sure, considering they did a background and drug test. I'd like to point out right now, that the YMCA doesn't pay for stuff that they aren't going to use either, so essentially if you pass the drug test, it's an automatic WELCOME ABOARD. So after that, and having sat in the drug testing site for 2 HOURS of hell, I oggled and was oggled back by a rather nice young man named Alec who said we should do lunch, but neither of us exchanged numbers, so I don't know. After that I went out for a martini and some time to just relax. Where a nice French man by the name of Franc decided that he liked my writing enough that he was going to buy me SEVERAL drinks. It was rather nice actually.
Day 5: Well Day 5, 5 whole days of living in the city. And what do I have to show for it? Couch fibers locked into my neck permanently, several blisters and bruises, an empty wallet, and of course a bloody heal from my shoes cutting into it REALLY REALLY BADLY. According to my phone I've already walked like 36 miles in total, and you know what? I LOVE IT. This is the life for me. My 89 on a month pass for the metro, BEST investment ever. Totally beats having a car. Life here is not going to be easy, but that's part of the challenge that I love. This is my time, to shine, burn, cry, love, what have you. All I know is, that when everything is said and done, this is my time to be me.
Day 2: So one of the contingencies to coming to NYC was that I was unfortunately expected to participate in this rather ridiculous scavenger hunt for a new social networking site called. FABULIS. We had to run around Manhattan for 6 hours. Needs to say, I killed a pair of shoes that day. Everything ended with us having spent only 24$ and a champagne toast. Yes, we def partook in that. That night we went out to a club and danced the night away. I went to the couch that I was bumming at the time, and PASSED OUT.
Day 3: So day 3, and I was still in the same outfit I had been wearing since the night before my last in Rochester. Filled with some rather good and bad memories, I opted to go shopping and buy a whole new outfit to counter the fact that I knew I smelled and felt beyond grody. After all that, I decided it was time head home, and after a long long LONG day of shopping and frolicking around town, we went home and slept. LOL.
Day 4: AH MONDAY! HATE HATE HATE. BUT WAIT. I had an interview, at the Chelsea YMCA, did I get it? Yeah, I'm pretty sure, considering they did a background and drug test. I'd like to point out right now, that the YMCA doesn't pay for stuff that they aren't going to use either, so essentially if you pass the drug test, it's an automatic WELCOME ABOARD. So after that, and having sat in the drug testing site for 2 HOURS of hell, I oggled and was oggled back by a rather nice young man named Alec who said we should do lunch, but neither of us exchanged numbers, so I don't know. After that I went out for a martini and some time to just relax. Where a nice French man by the name of Franc decided that he liked my writing enough that he was going to buy me SEVERAL drinks. It was rather nice actually.
Day 5: Well Day 5, 5 whole days of living in the city. And what do I have to show for it? Couch fibers locked into my neck permanently, several blisters and bruises, an empty wallet, and of course a bloody heal from my shoes cutting into it REALLY REALLY BADLY. According to my phone I've already walked like 36 miles in total, and you know what? I LOVE IT. This is the life for me. My 89 on a month pass for the metro, BEST investment ever. Totally beats having a car. Life here is not going to be easy, but that's part of the challenge that I love. This is my time, to shine, burn, cry, love, what have you. All I know is, that when everything is said and done, this is my time to be me.
Thursday, May 20, 2010
Understudy to My Own Life
Tonight is my last night in my current location. And while I should be so excited about my new venture. Tonight all I can seem to do is look back and wonder. Who the hell am I doing this for? On the walk home tonight, I began to wonder who, the fuck is actually in control of my life? Since recently I've been wondering if I'm actually doing this for myself.
A good friend of mine makes me believe it is, but am i really? Granted all night I'm pushing for someone to go for him that has no chance cause he has no interest, but that's not important, cause when I look back, all I can think of is, what the hell am I doing??? Sure I want to do this, but really am I doing it cause I want to?
Then it dawns on me. What the fuck? Does it matter? Sure, I've been through hell and back. I've been through a life of what most would call pain and suffering mixed with a vodka tonic and espresso, but who the hell gives a flying fuck. Right now I've known for a long while that I can't just sit back and let the world be on it's own, I actually have to take the chance and take the plunge.
Tonight what I saw in myself was someone concerned that a friend had a chance at something special. Granted he didn't think so, but who the fuck cares, he had something even if only for a moment. Then it dawned on me. I'm kind of just a passing thought. Yes I'm witty and clever, but when it comes right down to things, the one thing that I've noticed over the years is that people seem to easily pass over, and forget me. I'm not what one would call memorable, because I'm not sure I actually want to be. As a result, my life seems to play out with me, as more of a backup dancer, rather than an actual participant. So why then am I still leaving, even though, honestly this really isn't my idea?
Cause, fuck whoever thinks I can't succeed, or that I can't progress. Regardless of what I seem to see or do, I'm going to be a great writer, a great person. Yes, I might be crass, yes I might be a jerk, and yes, I might say things, that make people feel inferior. But honestly, do I give a fuck? NO! I'm me, because I grew up with such a mental image that people need to shut the fuck up and deal. Yeah, I'm a jackass, you don't like it? Then fuck off and move on.
A good friend of mine makes me believe it is, but am i really? Granted all night I'm pushing for someone to go for him that has no chance cause he has no interest, but that's not important, cause when I look back, all I can think of is, what the hell am I doing??? Sure I want to do this, but really am I doing it cause I want to?
Then it dawns on me. What the fuck? Does it matter? Sure, I've been through hell and back. I've been through a life of what most would call pain and suffering mixed with a vodka tonic and espresso, but who the hell gives a flying fuck. Right now I've known for a long while that I can't just sit back and let the world be on it's own, I actually have to take the chance and take the plunge.
Tonight what I saw in myself was someone concerned that a friend had a chance at something special. Granted he didn't think so, but who the fuck cares, he had something even if only for a moment. Then it dawned on me. I'm kind of just a passing thought. Yes I'm witty and clever, but when it comes right down to things, the one thing that I've noticed over the years is that people seem to easily pass over, and forget me. I'm not what one would call memorable, because I'm not sure I actually want to be. As a result, my life seems to play out with me, as more of a backup dancer, rather than an actual participant. So why then am I still leaving, even though, honestly this really isn't my idea?
Cause, fuck whoever thinks I can't succeed, or that I can't progress. Regardless of what I seem to see or do, I'm going to be a great writer, a great person. Yes, I might be crass, yes I might be a jerk, and yes, I might say things, that make people feel inferior. But honestly, do I give a fuck? NO! I'm me, because I grew up with such a mental image that people need to shut the fuck up and deal. Yeah, I'm a jackass, you don't like it? Then fuck off and move on.
Tuesday, May 4, 2010
Two roads diverged
I've never considered life to be this predestined fabrication that we have no control over. Yet, with the way things seem to be leading me towards possibly the greatest adventure of my life. I wonder, what does Fate have in store for me? These recent days have been ones with the following endeavors, staying up late at night looking at job websites, and apartment hunting. I've got just a little over two weeks to solidify a journey. And I'm not even sure I can. Doing so would probably entail that I finally go someplace, where ideally I'll finally feel at home. And that thought alone is something so desirable, that I almost forget how close the sword of Damocles swings over my head.
A good friend of mine posted on a social networking site that I would be leaving with him on his own adventure. As a result the first thing I thought about doing was wringing his neck, till I realized how right it feels to say that I'm leaving. I'm leaving, and I really want to.
My current song of choice is Put Your Recrods On by Corinne Bailey Rae. The lyrics and subtle jazz really bring about that sense of change. Especially the last two lines "you're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow." Talk about striking a chord in my sense of self. My main reservations for wanting to leave are simple. Here, I have a job, I have an apartment. I have stability in my rather unstable life. For the first time, I've actually felt like I'm Home. This city has it's quirks, and it's not somewhere where I want to be forever, but right now, it's served the purpose of allowing me to develop further as a person and a writer. Yet, recently, everything I write is stagnant. I've become too comfortable here, that I'm unable to push past this.
Until further notice, if anyone asks, I'm leaving. That's the end of that.
A good friend of mine posted on a social networking site that I would be leaving with him on his own adventure. As a result the first thing I thought about doing was wringing his neck, till I realized how right it feels to say that I'm leaving. I'm leaving, and I really want to.
My current song of choice is Put Your Recrods On by Corinne Bailey Rae. The lyrics and subtle jazz really bring about that sense of change. Especially the last two lines "you're gonna find yourself somewhere, somehow." Talk about striking a chord in my sense of self. My main reservations for wanting to leave are simple. Here, I have a job, I have an apartment. I have stability in my rather unstable life. For the first time, I've actually felt like I'm Home. This city has it's quirks, and it's not somewhere where I want to be forever, but right now, it's served the purpose of allowing me to develop further as a person and a writer. Yet, recently, everything I write is stagnant. I've become too comfortable here, that I'm unable to push past this.
Until further notice, if anyone asks, I'm leaving. That's the end of that.
Thursday, April 29, 2010
Emotional Junction: Learning to Take a Transfer
Last night, one of my better friends, best friend to be honest, commented on how my posts had been a bit "melancholy." So I've decided to focus on something other than blue thoughts, and move right onto the next one. Fear. ONE WEEK AND I"M ANOTHER YEAR OLDER. AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH. Eh! whatever. Another year is another year.
This year I've actually planned on hosting a dinner party to celebrate my birthday, I figure actually giving a rats ass about it, might make me more jovial and upbeat about the way things are. If not, then I'll just be further into the hole, and probably watch myself grow quickly inebriated and fall down :D. I've invited a small gathering of people who for one, I think will actually show up, and two, who I'd like to see. One of them being my ex, but honestly I couldn't type the conflicting emotional baggage that is. But me trying to be the better person, and remain friends, has forced me to invite him/ I wanted to see him. The night has two options, a nice quiet evening where things are fine, or a yelling frenzy, in which case it might feel more like home.
I'm at a crossroads right now, not just in emotion, but also in housing. That same friend who said I was being a whiny doleful git has also offered me a free ride down to the CITY. And damned if I'm actually not trying to see if I could do it. New York, it's kind of the place for me. It's big, I can get lost so easily, but it's filled with possibility and adventure. I haven't made any legitimate plans at the moment, but I am seriously contemplating this action. It's hard to imagine somedays, if only cause, this could probably be the most daring escapade that I've even thought of undertaking.
Even while I sit here, the main reason it's so hard to not want to do it. Shit like that, just fleeing with no money, no hope, but just the damn dream that you can. That's what novels are made of. That's what real writers dream of everyday. So what does that make me?
This year I've actually planned on hosting a dinner party to celebrate my birthday, I figure actually giving a rats ass about it, might make me more jovial and upbeat about the way things are. If not, then I'll just be further into the hole, and probably watch myself grow quickly inebriated and fall down :D. I've invited a small gathering of people who for one, I think will actually show up, and two, who I'd like to see. One of them being my ex, but honestly I couldn't type the conflicting emotional baggage that is. But me trying to be the better person, and remain friends, has forced me to invite him/ I wanted to see him. The night has two options, a nice quiet evening where things are fine, or a yelling frenzy, in which case it might feel more like home.
I'm at a crossroads right now, not just in emotion, but also in housing. That same friend who said I was being a whiny doleful git has also offered me a free ride down to the CITY. And damned if I'm actually not trying to see if I could do it. New York, it's kind of the place for me. It's big, I can get lost so easily, but it's filled with possibility and adventure. I haven't made any legitimate plans at the moment, but I am seriously contemplating this action. It's hard to imagine somedays, if only cause, this could probably be the most daring escapade that I've even thought of undertaking.
Even while I sit here, the main reason it's so hard to not want to do it. Shit like that, just fleeing with no money, no hope, but just the damn dream that you can. That's what novels are made of. That's what real writers dream of everyday. So what does that make me?
Friday, April 23, 2010
Reflections of no sound
Tonight, I went out. SHOCKER, I know.
I find that going out alleviates the pain of working for a shoe shine boys salary with the stress levels of a neurosurgeon. Tonight, however, I made use of ear plugs. What does this have to do with anything you might be wondering? Everything to be honest. Tonight I saw the nightlife of my current location, and all I saw was this twisting, turning, screaming body of vapid thought and conscious. At the end of the night, all I could feel were my eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
The problem with being me, as I've been trying desperately to dissect and analyze where things might have gone wrong. Hypothesis being breaching the birth canal. All I can say is that I don't fit into this city. I'm kind of an awkward fixture that just happens to amuse and alleviate the pressure of certain other individuals while I remain here, but I don't feel like I belong here. I don't actually relate to anyone. True I have my friends, whom I value and cherish, cause at the moment, aside from being able to drown my thought processes with vodka and gin, they are truly the only saving grace to which I attribute my sanity to. My current situation is that of desperation.
I don't think I can survive here much longer. As much as I need to stay, I wonder if I can actually do so. Truth be told, there is a lot of hurt and pain here. And while many might think that I have this strong and willful personality, at the end of the day, I cry myself to sleep more than I care to mention, and I definitely know for a fact that I'm a problem that cannot solve itself. Had I an insurance plan, I can assure you, I'd be heavily medicated, taking my prozac with a vodka martini just to be on the safe side.
I find that going out alleviates the pain of working for a shoe shine boys salary with the stress levels of a neurosurgeon. Tonight, however, I made use of ear plugs. What does this have to do with anything you might be wondering? Everything to be honest. Tonight I saw the nightlife of my current location, and all I saw was this twisting, turning, screaming body of vapid thought and conscious. At the end of the night, all I could feel were my eyelids growing heavier and heavier.
The problem with being me, as I've been trying desperately to dissect and analyze where things might have gone wrong. Hypothesis being breaching the birth canal. All I can say is that I don't fit into this city. I'm kind of an awkward fixture that just happens to amuse and alleviate the pressure of certain other individuals while I remain here, but I don't feel like I belong here. I don't actually relate to anyone. True I have my friends, whom I value and cherish, cause at the moment, aside from being able to drown my thought processes with vodka and gin, they are truly the only saving grace to which I attribute my sanity to. My current situation is that of desperation.
I don't think I can survive here much longer. As much as I need to stay, I wonder if I can actually do so. Truth be told, there is a lot of hurt and pain here. And while many might think that I have this strong and willful personality, at the end of the day, I cry myself to sleep more than I care to mention, and I definitely know for a fact that I'm a problem that cannot solve itself. Had I an insurance plan, I can assure you, I'd be heavily medicated, taking my prozac with a vodka martini just to be on the safe side.
Thursday, April 22, 2010
Representing Taxation
My issues with taxes are few and far between. I agree that as a privilege to live in a country one must pay reparations towards that nation. Granted, I wish that I had a greater say in what my money was spent on. At the end of every stupid tax form, should be a box that allows you to allocate the percentage usage of the taxes that you've been paying. Some might say that, this is done, through the use of litigation and political action by government officials. Well pardon my language, but what a load of bollocks.
I have no complaints about being taxed, but the brackets and procedures honestly mean nothing to me, since I can't get married, I don't want children, and I'm not rich. That however doesn't mean I don't want to take money away from schools and community development. I just want to be single in a nice neighborhood. Not single in the neighborhood with the crack-whore in one house, and the village drunk in the other. I've already got the drunk part covered. Deductions, tax breaks. Seriously, you can tell me how you have children and blah blah blah blah, and what not. It's a choice. That child should get the tax break, and it should be on a debit card with extreme restrictions on use. That means despite having the money you have to pay for rent, utilities, diapers, formula, and what not, and forgo that new knock off Gucci purse that goes with whatever Lane Bryant mistake you wanted to pair with it.
Political power delegating distribution of funds is also not usually something someone with no money wants to see. For the main fact that, as a poor individual, I can guarantee that I will never see that money come back to me in any form. Sure you could argue that in due time things will turn around and what not. But honestly, why would you believe that? The rich take political seats in order to keep themselves in power, while the rest of us have to linger. I almost want to join a tea party so that I can say how I am not being represented. Where is the gay friendly single white male gunning for government with barely enough money to cover his rent, food and alcohol budgets. Obviously I have but one choice.
So who's gonna support me for office? If not, who's gonna at least have a drink with me.
Just some after thoughts on all that tax time.
I have no complaints about being taxed, but the brackets and procedures honestly mean nothing to me, since I can't get married, I don't want children, and I'm not rich. That however doesn't mean I don't want to take money away from schools and community development. I just want to be single in a nice neighborhood. Not single in the neighborhood with the crack-whore in one house, and the village drunk in the other. I've already got the drunk part covered. Deductions, tax breaks. Seriously, you can tell me how you have children and blah blah blah blah, and what not. It's a choice. That child should get the tax break, and it should be on a debit card with extreme restrictions on use. That means despite having the money you have to pay for rent, utilities, diapers, formula, and what not, and forgo that new knock off Gucci purse that goes with whatever Lane Bryant mistake you wanted to pair with it.
Political power delegating distribution of funds is also not usually something someone with no money wants to see. For the main fact that, as a poor individual, I can guarantee that I will never see that money come back to me in any form. Sure you could argue that in due time things will turn around and what not. But honestly, why would you believe that? The rich take political seats in order to keep themselves in power, while the rest of us have to linger. I almost want to join a tea party so that I can say how I am not being represented. Where is the gay friendly single white male gunning for government with barely enough money to cover his rent, food and alcohol budgets. Obviously I have but one choice.
So who's gonna support me for office? If not, who's gonna at least have a drink with me.
Just some after thoughts on all that tax time.
Thursday, April 15, 2010
Should I stay or should I go now????
My current state of living could be equated to a coma patient. It's currently in debate as to whether or not I'm actually coherent of my surroundings, and at times I wonder of how much I actually want to be. This current post industrial nightmare of a town is honestly only bearable, due in part to, three months of some of the most glorious and beautiful weather, and a super market that is by far a better time than just wasting your time at the mall. Yes, the malls are just that horrid that I'd rather peruse the fresh vegetables rather than have to bear witness to another hour at a JC Penny's sales rack.
This all came about with the sudden realization that things in my life are slowly coming to a close. This old rather barren and seemingly distracted existence is slowly coming to a close, and personally I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet. Of course I welcome change, and the prospects that come with it. But, recently, I'm ashamed to say, I've found that my bravery and drive for the unknown has become extremely muddled. So far in fact that recently the most bold and daring thing I did was cut my hair shorter. Don't get me wrong on that however, the cut was amazing.
When we grow up, we're told that after college a world of exciting and fabulous times await. From what I've seen however, all that I've gotten is a rather steadily increasing amount of debt, low self image, and the desire to do nothing more than sleep at least two hours after I set my alarm for. That which I always thought would be has been, shall we say short lived.
Last night I had a dream that I was on a train to the city. I had sold all my possessions, had money, clothes, my computer and this idea that I wouldn't need anymore than that. Problem I find with this, was the sudden realization that when I woke up, I actually had pulled out my suitcase and started packing. With the amtrak site still pulled up on my computer. Subconsciously I know what I want. But realistically and fiscally I know I can't. I pine for the times as children, when we wanted something, we just did it.
This all came about with the sudden realization that things in my life are slowly coming to a close. This old rather barren and seemingly distracted existence is slowly coming to a close, and personally I'm not quite sure how I feel about it yet. Of course I welcome change, and the prospects that come with it. But, recently, I'm ashamed to say, I've found that my bravery and drive for the unknown has become extremely muddled. So far in fact that recently the most bold and daring thing I did was cut my hair shorter. Don't get me wrong on that however, the cut was amazing.
When we grow up, we're told that after college a world of exciting and fabulous times await. From what I've seen however, all that I've gotten is a rather steadily increasing amount of debt, low self image, and the desire to do nothing more than sleep at least two hours after I set my alarm for. That which I always thought would be has been, shall we say short lived.
Last night I had a dream that I was on a train to the city. I had sold all my possessions, had money, clothes, my computer and this idea that I wouldn't need anymore than that. Problem I find with this, was the sudden realization that when I woke up, I actually had pulled out my suitcase and started packing. With the amtrak site still pulled up on my computer. Subconsciously I know what I want. But realistically and fiscally I know I can't. I pine for the times as children, when we wanted something, we just did it.
Monday, April 12, 2010
Not so recent developments
Last week was rather hectic. For those of you who were aware, I was attempting to give up alcohol for 30 days. Only to fall rather quickly based on the fact that after a week and a half the stress of taxes, payments, and a code blue being called in at work, the only thing I can honestly say is that after all that bullshit I had to open one of the many bottles of wine on the shelf. I came to the realization that currently, my life is a bit too chaotic and crazy to not allow me the small luxury of being able to dull the pain down just a tiny bit. Call this problematic if you want, but honestly, right now, I deserve a vodka tonic when I get home.
A couple of weeks ago, I went out with my ex on a lunch date, we had a nice conversation, and it was rather mundane. I'm rather pleased to say, that while I miss what we had, I'm slowly beginning to miss him less and less. I hated saying that for the first couple of weeks, cause it made me feel like such a vagrant who only misses the connection rather than the person. But as many of my friends have said before, that's okay so long as you're able to deal. Relationships have a tendency to linger long past the person they were involved with. Rather than wanting them back, you just want that connection again.
I've started riding my bike again as well. Weather permitting, I'll usually be the one on the black Marin, zipping through traffic, flipping off kids in crossings zones, and telling that bastard in the Escalade that I'm actually allowed on the streets when I skip the red-light that he has to stop at. However, due to the geographic location, it's rather sad to admit that my bike travels will be somewhat infrequent and sparse, at least till the summer months officially hit. Till then, provided the weather is above 35 I'll be on my bike, once again probably late for work at THAT PLACE.
Just a few updates, nothing major or really new. Continue forward, towards the usual, debt, freedom and liver damage
A couple of weeks ago, I went out with my ex on a lunch date, we had a nice conversation, and it was rather mundane. I'm rather pleased to say, that while I miss what we had, I'm slowly beginning to miss him less and less. I hated saying that for the first couple of weeks, cause it made me feel like such a vagrant who only misses the connection rather than the person. But as many of my friends have said before, that's okay so long as you're able to deal. Relationships have a tendency to linger long past the person they were involved with. Rather than wanting them back, you just want that connection again.
I've started riding my bike again as well. Weather permitting, I'll usually be the one on the black Marin, zipping through traffic, flipping off kids in crossings zones, and telling that bastard in the Escalade that I'm actually allowed on the streets when I skip the red-light that he has to stop at. However, due to the geographic location, it's rather sad to admit that my bike travels will be somewhat infrequent and sparse, at least till the summer months officially hit. Till then, provided the weather is above 35 I'll be on my bike, once again probably late for work at THAT PLACE.
Just a few updates, nothing major or really new. Continue forward, towards the usual, debt, freedom and liver damage
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