Friday, December 19, 2014

2014 Gave Me Ebola: A Run-Down of my Shitty Year

Since everyone starts to feel nostalgic and run out of writing fodder at the end of the year due to burnout or severe intoxication, the lists and "Best of/Worst of (year here)" are pumped out with alarming alacrity. For those two of you who actually follow my intermittent typejaculations, I started this blog at the worst of my depressive and suicidal state and had to let out what I was feeling before I half-assed a suicide attempt that would ultimately go nowhere but people agree the intent is pretty awful alone. C'est la vie. 

Now, 2014 was not entirely a vortex of awful, I finally finished an Associates' Degree and am on my way to a four-year college and the clarity with which I now see my life and inform my decisions as to how to govern it has been invaluable. However, I take a masochistic delight in revisiting my foibles and mistakes from the past twelve months. 

January: At approximately the middle of the month, I rear-ended a car on Bloomfield Avenue and had the privilege of watching the front of my car hit a trailer hitch turn into a hunk of useless accordion-shaped metal in the span of a millisecond. During my most delusional and vulnerable, I managed to ask a body shop how much my car would cost to be repaired and I was ready to do a snow angel on the train tracks when told it was four figures. Things learned from this event: Do not drive in flip-flops and people ask if you want to pray out loud on suicide hotlines. 

February/March: Worked consistently in an understaffed and overworked autistic class that left me feeling like a failure and burned out. Started this blog. Oh, got hospitalized for a week after I had an awful withdrawal symptom from going back on anti-depressants. Got the flu, took too many liquid shits to count, joined a counseling program. Things I learned: People who work in the psych ward of hospitals are very patient, and there is a purpose as to why privacy must be respected in those scenarios. 

May: Received persona non grata status from someone's house for reasons I shall not go into lest it be read by the wrong people. I apologize for nothing that led to it, though. Things I learned: People who cannot discern humor are a waste of my time. 

To be fair, the first half of the year was a lot of shitty while the second half was pretty unremarkable. I had a nice case of mental Ebola and fear before eventually allowing my guard to come down somewhat. Yes, this post is personal, but if you want to use it as cudgel against my character, so be it. I just do not give a shit what the vast majority of people I encounter care about me. 

Merry Christmas and go fuck yourselves with good cheer. 

Friday, November 28, 2014

Black, White, and Jewish Friday

To begin, I am a dirty hypocrite with my last post. Whenever spam is sent to me, it gets deleted immediately because I have my neuroses about keeping my e-mail clean. Not to mention, unless I am prowling the "casual encounters" section of Craigslist, it is a bunch of poorly written phishing efforts under the guise of purchasing free healthcare. They read like a drunk sorority girl texting and a Nigerian with scant knowledge of English had a verbal abortion, and truly are so ill-composed I begin to wonder if people who fall for it simply know they're being swindled and just don't give a shit.

Now, onto Black Friday. My opening observation is that I wish the verdict of the Michael Brown case occurred today so the tabloid newspapers would be racking their brains to avoid the obvious pun.  Actually, the New York Post would say something like "Colored Friday" in its headlines, and it would still sell handsomely! (Gotta get the TV show times somehow.)

Second observation, if you camp out for Black Friday deals, you are a dick. I can understand being on line if you're a loner who severed ties with their family because "they just don't get it, man", but what blockhead needs to play Occupy Best Buy so they can run over employees who are already feeling homicidal and get $10 off a glowing vibrator? What experience is to be had camping out? I can somewhat justify doing that for a concert or a sporting event because the payoff is a experience you rarely encounter, but what do you get from pitching a tent for electronics? The ability to replicate getting UN aid in Africa before the government burns that shit into cinders? It is the modern Soviet bread line with half the willpower and twice the discontent. I want to go into the encampment and tell people I have ebola.

Finally, I worked a Black Friday in 2008 at Kohl's and I wanted to sodomize myself with a Kohl's Charge card until I mercifully bled out. It consisted of promoting the Hell out of these Garmin GPS devices (of which we had maybe 10) and watching them get gobbled up ravenously by soccer moms and people who cannot sit still for five minutes and actually conceive a thoughtful gift idea with being prompted by a circular. The deals lasted until about two o'clock, and during those eight hours, the store was congested to such an extent that half of Union County hated your guts if you unleashed a post-Thanksgiving eggy fart anywhere in the store. Not to mention we had to have special parking in the back of the store lest we were forced to park at the very end of the shopping center. I hated working retail, but it truly was a worthwhile experience as I realized I did not want to have to listen to the caliber of the general retail shopper yammering at me for the rest of my life.

Go to school, kids. Unless you like working retail and bitching about your life until you die.

Wednesday, October 1, 2014

E-mail spam is quite entertaining.

I actually get a fair amount of it by virtue of responding to a fake ad on Craigslist and some of them are doozies. I will post my favorite ones every two weeks or so.

Thursday, August 28, 2014

How to Unshackle Your Mind, Sometimes

I realize that very few people are actually reading this blog if the pageviews are any indication of traffic. My promotion through mass text message has stopped and was only done out of exceedingly desperate measures so as to express my horrible situation in February/March without explicitly saying, "I feel like a failure and life seems so overwhelming I would rather not see tomorrow." Nonetheless, I do not give a damn how many people read my thoughts; I post when inspired, bored, or whether there is a topic upon which I want to expostulate.

There are various mental pecadillos that have guided my life since childhood. As I have grown older, many of them simply dissipated with time, but I have acquired other tendencies reminiscent of obsessive-compulsive disorder and an inability to embrace the freedom that is afforded to adults. 

My most egregious involves a ritual with my laptop. I constantly delete history even though I am the only person who touches the thing in a given day because of some sort of cosmic shame that washes over me whenever I seek something pornographic or as benign as a Google search for a person in the news that interests me. There is a delusion that somehow I have sanitized my technology and I am operating with a pure, clean slate. 

What is there to hide? Why do I do this? I operate like a scared teenager who will be chastised for looking at smut on the family computer even though that is not even remotely the case. Then again, I still operate like a scared teenager a majority of the time instead of embracing all the change I can enact within myself as an adult.  

Friday, August 22, 2014

(Honors) College Was a Waste of My Time

Yes, once upon a time I had a $15,000/year scholarship to Seton Hall University and enrolled in their Honors Program primarily for egotistical masturbation reasons. There was a separate application to be filled out (and it was not all that strenuous) and the scholarship wasn't contingent on my enrollment in said program. To go off track, I was also called two separate times by the business department (I came in as a... Sport Management major) to enroll in said their variation of honors as well, but their program entailed going to meetings ad nauseam and filling out another application. I politely declined both times. 

Now, I fully concede that I was fucked out mentally for the better half of my tenure at Seton Hall. I went on and off antidepressants on a whim, and rarely left my room during the second semester except to eat and show up to spite one of the honors professors looking and smelling like shit. My GPA consisted of 5 F's and 1 D (I passed without showing up to the final somehow) and my scholarship went poof that summer as did my tenure in South Orange. Also, I changed my major from Sport Management to Political Science during the second semester, which gave me two courses of study that I deemed unbearable horseshit. 

Going back to when I was re-applying to colleges during my gap year, I cringe at how much of a smug, unrealistic cunt I was. I applied to schools I knew I had no chance in Hell of obtaining admission (UChicago, Johns Hopkins, to name two) and I only went to Seton Hall because they gave me money. Seriously, I didn't even visit the campus until May 2009, and it never crossed my mind that I would hate it there socially. Who cares if I wanted to kill myself come April of my freshman year, I got a scholarship and a spot in the HONORS COLLEGE!  

It is funny, I am now hopefully transferring to NJIT to commute, and I looked at their Honors College for transfers for a second. Then I woke up and remembered how little I gave a damn about such classes five years ago. Now, I know what I want to do. If I can crunch numbers at work, be left in peace, and make some money for the rest of my life I will be a happy dude. 

There still is some lingering bitterness from my last days at 4-year college (namely being told depression "was just another problem and we all have our problems" by a certain honors professor) but it has died down since I left in August 2010. From working and talking with people, there's so much pageantry bullshit that goes into attending and studying at college that have no correlation with the real world at all. Your (and my) Barron's book is bullshit. Your honors college is bullshit. 

My ego has died a slow death but has been revived with less fat and gristle.  

Tuesday, July 29, 2014

The Politics of My Brain

(Yes, I realize I have been away from posting on this blog for quite some time, depression bouts have a way of making what seems joyous and stimulating into something banal and dreadful. I really cannot say how much I thank any of you who read my early posts, which were a broadcast of my breakdown and subsequent rare moments of clarity and confidence. Then again, I did play marketer for the blog when I was at my worst, even still, a sincere appreciation to all those who heeded the advice and took a chance on reading an unedited blog with no proofreading done at all.)

(I looked up "about it all condescending twat" and this was the first picture)

Let me begin my post by displaying my politics: I was a registered Republican in 2008 when I held my nose and voted for John McCain simply because I had no idea what a libertarian was at the time. I have not voted since 2010, and do not intend on doing so in the future as I find many Democrat and Republican politicians have a sense of entitlement I find downright noxious and a lack of critical thinking for fear that they will run afoul of party lines.

When you tell people you are Republican or Democrat, if their politics differ from yours, their minds take them to a caricature of the opposite party. Republicans are homo-hating, gun-toting maniacs who seek to expunge any semblance of intellectualism from society and Democrats are authoritarian boot-lickers who seek to seize freedom in an interminable quest to become Utopia. Many people default to whatever media sources they trust tell them without a hint of nuance or original thought, which makes for exceptionally boring conversation when waxing political because one senses that people are parroting what seems polished and shiny rhetoric when it is in fact boring, couched horseshit.

The gripes I maintain come from a people growing more passive-aggressive and worried whether they will be liked as opposed to maintaining a modicum of integrity. Where are all the honest brokers? Even though I think he's chronically unfunny and his humor comes from knee-jerk puns that cater to lowest common denominator faux-intellectuals, I can respect Bill Maher because he truly cannot stand people such as myself and he says as such. If you think I am a cunty libertarian, then by all means, say it! It allows me to discern which people I need to avoid, and I will at the very least respect you for not holding back if not become friendly because I will be so happy to meet someone who doesn't attempt to be disingenuous.

Believe you me, I hold views that would render me vermin in both right- and left-wing camps. Free speech absolutist, skeptical of police force, leery of unions but a vigorous defender of modern teachers... etc. If you try to place me in a hole, good on you! I'd love to see where I reside.

I used to have a bad habit of letting the letters D and R cloud my morality ("You know that Republican did spray botulism on that abortion clinic, but I'll give her the benefit of the doubt. Yeah, murder is bad, but he did say some mean things about Muslims!") instead of just parsing through all of the crap and utilizing the standard of right or wrong.  I must concede, I still fall prey to Whiny Bitch Syndrome because society conditions you to become one, but being an individual soul where people want to pigeon-hole you to reduce simplicity is refreshing. If you disagree with people... disagree. This applies to the Pope, a politician, or even someone you love immensely. Don't be afraid to be disliked and don't back down and give wimpy caveats to what you said. If you call someone a motherfucking asshole, don't have the temerity to give a linguistic or semantic lesson or the context of your brain at the time, own it and apologize only if you deem it necessary. (Excessive apologies can be a post by itself today.)

In essence, stop taking yourselves so seriously and stop masturbating to people who preach to the choir. Let people think, you labeling shitbirds.  


Friday, May 2, 2014

Look at This Thing I Did: Millennial Social Masturbation

Yes, I realize that most of my posts are of a serious nature and I am doing quite well now for all those who are inclined to know, but I have so many ideas swimming in my head that I need to write the occasional whimsical post before this blog takes on the tone of a funeral dirge. 

My rant today is predicated on far too many people thinking I actually give a damn about what they do, and telling me as such through the most passive-aggressive of ways: the myriad social media networks which have given people far more self-esteem than they deserve. The posts aren't made with the intent of keeping an online scrapbook of sorts, it is a way of bragging about how you got reservations to the restaurant that makes a pate in the shape of a penis, or how you can travel throughout the world and telling everyone that you are on the cutting edge of living life. 

When you were shown slides at a relative's house once upon a time, it took every bit of courage to not become homicidal as you pretended to care about Person's X sojourn to Morocco. Now, every rube with a Facebook account is actually seeking photos to "like" so they can prove they care in some hollow and banal way. Congrats on having a child, but I don't need to see the placenta documented as if it will change the world and bring about lasting memories. (Some group of asswipes will like that photo anyway.) 

I say this as a complete hypocrite as I recently joined Facebook after a two year hiatus and now am trying to fight myself to not check on everyone's life. Thankfully. as someone never one to drop likes as an unconscious method of communicating (even you, person who came out of the closet via status) I can drop this insidious habit as swiftly as I can pick it up. 

I don't care what 99.9% of the world does, and we should stop assuming people do.