Rage & Isolationism, Pt 400

Between interruptions here at work, blogger not working properly, and my overall bad attitude, it seems that writing today is going to be impossible. So, nevermind.

Rage & Isolationism, Part 2

The amount of bullshit I am forced to overhear in one day is astounding. I believe it would blow your mind. If I had to put it into numbers, I would say that 95% of all the words I hear in one day are total BS. Some of the people I work with are starting to notice that I simply tune out. Even the folks I like have had to ask me if I was just tuning them out. And they rep

Rage and Isolationism

The Office

I had just started to watch an episode of the Office on hulu when some of my coworkers came into the room. Its quarter til five, and everyone was BSing as they got ready to leave. I quickly put the show on pause (didnt want to get "in trouble"). The folks in the room were joking and messing with each other. After filling the weekly amount of necessary ridicule, they shuffled out the door (still bitching). I hit play on The Office. Turned out I had paused it at precisely the end of the theme song (the little piano bit)...it was Perfect.

and with that I will begin my three-day weekend. :)

GO PENS!!

Happy Weekend.

I don't want to hear people talking anymore.

Today's Top Searches

Ok. I have to take a break from the serious thinking I've been doing today.
I just happened to take a look at Today's Top Searches on Yahoo's Frontpage. The one that really caught my attention was #6: Charles Manson Ranch.


AAAAAAAAAAAAAhahhahahhahahahahahahahahaaahahahahhahahahahhahahahahhahahahahahhahhaha

(I know it's referring to his home or something. I just couldnt help imagining a serial killer condiment...)

Pigeons

I am currently between notebooks in real life. I keep forgetting to pick up another one (from the drawer I've hid them in at work). In the meantime, I've been scribbling on any thing I can find when something noteworthy arrives in my head. This morning I had to use the back of my Hallmark 2008 datebook...I'm not sure when I picked one of those up, but I found it stuffed in the center console of my car. It was smashed between an old pack of Camel Lights and some mixtapes from the early 2000s. Anyway, these are the words I managed to scribble on my calendar at the stoplight of Grant and Blvd of the Allies:
"blog-people ?
unrequited love might be the only kind that's good for us
Pittsburgh Marathon 2009
pigeons"

Ok.
"blog-people ?"
I began wondering who reads this thing. My motivation for starting this online version was not necessarily a vain one. I mean, I didn't do it JUST so other people would read it. Maybe it was a selfish reason: I wanted to be able to use my computer at work to write. It feels more official than a beat-up Columbo. Of course, though, I enjoyed getting feedback from the courageous souls who stopped in here. Once I learned who WAS reading this blog, I considered who WASNT reading it.
If this had been a novel, would the same readers read. And the same non-readers, ignore? It seems like some people's motivations reflect a part of themselves that they would care to show the people they love (or would love, if possible).
If I have a blog (or any writing/creative outlet) to subconsciously (overtly) show certain persons that I am intelligent (not lazy...brilliant...i.e. worthy), but I know they arent reading it........anyway, Am I the disappointment or are they?
I think I like assuming that nobody reads this thing. It prevents me from censoring. Right now I can write whatever I want because I feel safe(-ish) that it's tucked neatly in some corner of the blogosphere.


Ugh...I gotta go do some work. I will finish (or start) this thought again later.

Generation Y?

People are always referring to us as Generation Y, I think. Is that right? We are constantly called the "I-want-it-now" generation. I am not confirming or disputing this reputation. (Although I will say 'What did you expect'?)
Wouldn't it be cool if we could be Generation Veruca? Dude, that would rule.

Something about scales

I am trying so hard to stop getting caught up in negative thoughts. Right now, I really feel like bitching. But instead of doing that, I am going to make two lists. One of things I like, the other will be things i dont like.

I dont like sports metaphors.

I do like plastic picnic silverware sets. The ones that come wrapped in plastic with a napkin & little salt and pepper packets.

I do like Cool Ranch Doritos.

I don't like popcorn. Or any corn.

I like my new umbrella. It's white and it has citrus fruits on it.

I don't like geezers who just sit around and watch tv. I am referring to old men, not young slacker dudes as referred to by the Streets. Also, I hate it when people are full of shit.

I like parallel parking. I am very good at it.

I dislike hot dog water. While I love a good weiner once in a while (that's what she said), I don't like the creepy liquid that drips out of the bottom of the package. (haha.)

I like TV on DVDs. Specifically, Flight of the Conchords, 30 Rock, and Columbo.

I do not like Tootsie Rolls.

I do like cleaning my car.

I do like tea. I am on a real tea 'kick'. Especially mint tea. I should get a kettle.

I do like this new computer. It pretty much rules.

I don't like


im bored.

Of all the gin joints in all the towns in all the world...

It's not that I don't like to do my work. It's that I like to do it at my own pace. I like to do a task, then have periods of nothing, then do another one , and so on... I know it's procrastinating...I prefer the word 'relaxed'. Today: do some insurance paperwork, read a few chapters of Chuck Klosterman's IV...prepare invoices, update my myspace page. eat a banana, balance petty cash.
Not to mention that it's Friday. 320pm. Im looking forward to a big bottle of wine and some fierce UNO competition tonight.

On a more serious note, I think I found something I kind of might believe in. I've had ideas about this subject since I was 11 or 12. An early age to consider something as complex as FATE. I wondered, without any kind of academic provocation, if things happen because they MUST...or is it like every decision opens up a new path...if you do this...this will follow. I'm not asking this question NOW. Those are things I thought about in 6th grade.
Twelve years later and that is still all I can think about. Today, at least. There have been other times in my life when people have insisted to me that "it's fate". we're "supposed" to be together...you were "meant" to blah blah blah. I never bought it.
There has only been one time in my life that FATE seemed apparent. I know this now because I ignored it. And it caught back up with me. Sort of.
There is something about 'right/wrong place at the right/wrong time'. (I dont know why but I always think of mobsters shooting each other when I hear that phrase.) Anyway, when you really think about it...THAT'S exactly right. You being...where you are...is a result of you being everywhere else you've ever been. You HAD to be there. In that spot. at THAT moment.
I guess the point Im trying to get to is that from my own personal standpoint, I think that maybe there is some kind of destiny or predestined event that one is supposed to experience...but you orchestrate the details. I dont really think i believe in (or like) the term "meant to be". But I'm just wondering how many times you have to be slapped in the face before you realize something is right in front of you. Or in California, as it were.

I am having a terrible time getting this out right now. People are talking to me about work stuff, and fucking sports shit, and TGIF and I just can't concentrate. I dont even know if this makes any sense at all. I guess the point is that my mind was blown today. And it was pretty awesome.

Destroying the Walls

When i was younger-12,13,14,15- and my parents yelled at me, I would go to my room and rip all of my pictures and posters off my walls. They would scream at me and lecture me and send me to my room. And I would tear everything down.
The psychology behind that behavior seems obvious to me. I remember that I wasn't allowed to talk back or yell or get upset. Or cry. I always hated that most of all-when they yelled at me to stop crying. It's mindless and thoughtless really. (Dad, you were only making it worse.)
It's interesting that I still do that. Destroying the walls. My favorite pieces of art. Delicate items I had painstakingly spent hours collecting and arranging. Memorabilia. Photos of friends. Cool shit from magazines. (Mostly Gavin Rossdale-ha. what a dork. shut up I was 12.) These things were important to me-a creative outlet. Ruined.
I just got in a little bit of trouble at work. Really nothing. Nobody even said anything to me, I just felt like an idiot. Immediately, my heart burned. When I was finally alone at my desk, I instinctively began cleaning out my desk. Erasing myself. Then, before I even realized why I was doing it, I cleaned out my email's Inbox AND my "Friends" folder. When I am done writing this, I will probably empty out my "favorites" folder and all my bookmarks. I might copy them by hand first. (to be honest, I think i am getting a new computer in a few days.)
Wow. This explains A LOT.
You can't expect to "be" with anybody...to have long, meaningful relationships when your MO is self-sacrifice.
"Sit on the couch. Say OK and nothing else. Don't explain-it doesnt matter."
And it doesn't.