quotes...
What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?
i probably shouldnt do this.... but....
The real story:
Who am i?
You really want to know who i am? i'm the most honest person you'll ever meet. i can peel away everything about you just by listening to you and watching you for 15 minutes. i dont need your personal history to know that youre an addict or a victim or a fighter. i can do it by just looking in your eyes. and i hate myself for this ability. it has brought me nothing but pain, disappointment, and a life that has me sitting here while all of my friends are out fucking like rabbits or enjoying a stiff drink with mixed company. i dwell and stew in these feelings that make me have nothing but guilt for the fact that there is somebody for everyone, and in three months time... i'll have been single for a year. lonely single, not single where you can make due and get over it. not single where you work out your issues and write your life story or paint that portrait youve always wanted to. single where everything reminds you of every mistake youve ever made with a every girl who gave a second look at you. and thats really the thing, isnt it. no girl really takes two looks at me. they see me for what they think i am and then see the really strapping, confidant, hot guy next to me, and pick him. so what if he'll rape them, cheat on them, destroy them. they'll feel pretty and attractive. the fact is, that for someone who is not obese or acne ridden, or manic depressive, i'm pretty unattractive. and that makes me invisible. and that invisibility kills me. that haunting feeling of not really being there, of living between the grey and not being noticed. it breeds a sick desperation, one that eats away until you just want to lock yourself in a room and watch romantic comedies until you feel like theres hope. that When Harry Met Sally can happen. that, my friends, is hell. look at me whine.
shit.
ignore all of this. rantings of the funk.
met a "strange" girl.... nearly got killled by a russian... ONLY ME!
So there i am in the shop today. working as i work and whistling and what not... and my manager calls me outside... he's having his 5th cigarette of the day (it is only 12pm, mind you) and he is asking me how the punisher thing i'm planning is going. as we're talking i see this girl across the street walking towards my store and i go "damn i hope she walks in here." and lo and behold... she was cute, kinda charming, little geeky (i'll refrain from pointing out how much of a geek, but it was endearing more than offputting), and just kinda... i dunno. so we got to talking and i asked her her name. she responds, "heather strange." now, this is the point where i'm thinking, "aw shit shes a total geek and this is like her gamer handle or something. and then she smiles and says, "seriously" and shows me her id. now, any other man would have talked a little longer, either invited her out, or at least gotten her number.... but i... i am a chicken shit. and did neither. hopefully she'll come back to the store... fuck. so then i get off work and go out with my friend nick up in vancouver. i pick him up and we're all out and about trying to find a movie theater. some russian punks in a tricked out civic start pacing me and getting on my ass and then its like i'm being chased and i'm fearing for my life. at one point the motherfucker tried to force me into the median blockade. eventually i get ahead of him and accelerate and try to get away, then we hit the stop light. he's behind me, he's out of his car, he's trying to break my window, he's inside my car, and he's beating the shit out of me. my jaw hurts, my car has dents and theres a shoe print on my window. i had to actually fill out a police report. i think they impounded his car, but have yet to actually catch him. fuck life. happy resurrection day. wheres my fuckin' candy...
I mean no offense to the ladies...
I dont mean to offend any of the sensibilities of the women on this site. i really have no intention of trying to make myself out to be a judgemental prick (if you know me, then you are more then welcome to refer to me as such), but something bothers me about the ladies around here.
so, i've noticed two types of girls who go on these sites. 1) the spunky, wanting to meet new people, faked being 18 to get onboard show lovin' types or 2) the intellectuals/emo ladies (often multi-talented and full of wit and/or charm) burned many times by men they've thought were what would make them feel better about themselves.
its funny, but the first kind is often polite enough to reply or even give a conversation a chance. unfortunately, i hate feeling like a world-worn smarty-pants or a pedophile, so i tend to stay away from those conversations.
i just find it frustrating is all. this even plays true in the "real world." you meet a girl. you start talking to her and its obvious you are not someone she's going to give the time of day to. but, oh oh oh, that guy over there? the one that screams "cheating, insensitive date-rapist?" he's to die for.
Rune and i discussed this at length at the bar last night. beer was the instigator, but he refused to let up about the fact that its good that my standards are as high as they are, but bad that i look at every girl as some type of job interviewee and not just a girl with potential. being quick to judge, in his opinion, is what is keeping me alone. and having a specific type of girl already qualified in my head is what has lead me to such constant disappointment, because it should be obvious by now that i am in no way someone that they will conciously find attractive at first notice. if i want what i have always directed as my type, i'll have to play mindgames, because i dont walk, dress, or act the part of their ideal mate.
The Law, also had some thoughts on this. he pointed out that my trying to have a relationship with every girl i make it two steps with is just a little too much at our age (he's two years older than me) and that that obsession with the future keeps me from actually getting to know them in "right here, right now" kind of way. he's still in shock that i can't seem to find ANY girl and havent been able to for going on 9 months now. i just tell him that single is as single does and when it happens i'll be a lot more ready for it than when i was only single for 2 months.
Will just likes to point out that i'm a lot smarter about my tastes now that i've been burned so many times by the ladies or by my own actions coming back to haunt me.
frankly, i know i'd do better this time because after having one of those moments of clarity when you realize how youve fucked up so many times over the last year or so, you kind of have a handle on what you could do better next time and what you used to pride yourself on.
random thoughts. whoever actually reads this shit can take it as they want.
fired and then promoted... word...
So there i am, just waking up one morning, and i'm like, "shit, i hate my job {at best buy}" I mean, i really hate it. no one that works there enjoys themself, the perks are impossible to take advantage of, and i've been told, in so many words, that due to my attitude i'll never get promoted past part time csr. nevermind that i have perfect sales numbers, i promote like a bastard, and i'm a master tasker, plus i'm the inventory king and can fucking find 600 missing pieces of a 1000 piece pull in only 45 minutes, nah. i dont smile enough. fuck'm.
i go in to pick Rune up a dvd, go talk to my manager, tell him i'm thinking about giving two weeks, and then i go home and get ready for work in two hours. lo and behold, when i get there, i'm told i'm no longer in the system, am off the schedule for next week, and am effectively fired, but they want to know if i'm still going to work that afternoon and if i'll come in on friday. suffice to say, we italians have tempers second only to the irish, so i told my supervisor "go fuck yourself" with the perfect shit-eating grin, received pats on the back from my peers (i am effectively the hero of two of them) and went straight for the comic book store. while picking up a book to cure my melancholy, i gave the ops manager of the store a call and told him my situation. in a flash, i was promoted to full time and granted 72 hours in the next three weeks on top of my ten hours a week. full benefites and free movie comps followed. as the spring gets into gear, i'm working my dream job (when i was 14, but i've always been a slow start) and i'll never have to pay for movies again.
My name is Hollywood Mike. I no longer suck dick for coke, i sling funny books. school starts in the fall, and i'll be going for my degree. fear my ego.
