Emo in the Casino

As if the smoke that’s slowly infiltrating my body and laying tar across the lining of my lungs wasn’t bad enough, everyone else seems to be doing just fine.  I walked into work the other day and found out that two people on my team had been promoted to better positions.  Then, one of my coworkers took out his wallet in front of me, opened it up, and pulled out a ten dollar bill, waving it in front of my face and smiling so wide I could see every one of his yellow teeth.  He bragged that he had received that money as a tip from one of the customers.  He and I never get tipped, although when we were first hired we were told we would be.  Then the gaming director changed his tune and told us our positions had the possibility of being tipped.  Well, sure, if you want to say it that way, every position in any job has the possibility of being tipped.  You could tip your accountant or the cashier at Blockbuster but most people don’t. 

“God is good,” he told me with his buttery mouth. 

That was not something I wanted to hear, as me and the G-man aren’t on good terms right now.

Not only that, but a lady won fifteen thousand dollars during the night and literally two minutes later, her husband won ten thousand dollars.  Needless to say, they were pretty happy.

At the end of the shift, I asked one of my coworkers who got promoted if she liked her new position better.

“I love it better,” she replied.

Well, good for you.

Paper cuts, ya know?  Paper cuts.

It just sucks to be surrounded by happy people when I feel like I am slowly suffocating both physically, emotionally and spiritually.  It's like being stuck inside a glass box that's slowly filling up with water and everyone on the outside is yucking it up and going about their merry way while I shriek and pound on the glass and no one notices or no one cares to.  Everyone is just so oblivious.

Plus, the ten-dollar tipped guy with the sulfur smile is so patronizing to me.  I suppose he sees himself as above me because he makes more money and because my job is basically bitch work.  He’s always so quick to say, “Oh, Brannon you’re doing such a good job around here.”  I can push up chairs in a straight line.  Thanks so much for telling me I do it well.  Jerk.   And he tells our supervisor, “Brannon’s the head customer service guy here.  He knows what the hell he’s doing.”  I know that sounds pretty nice but it’s his cadence, his inflection, his sliminess that corrupts the compliments.  What really ticks me off is the fact that I think he thinks I’m pretty stupid and we all know that I hate to be made to feel stupid and I hate for other people to think I’m stupid.  Just because I have such a low-end position doesn’t mean I’m unintelligent.  Crap, maybe I am unintelligent but he shouldn’t deem me as dumb just because of what I do.  Just because I have to scrape soot from ashtrays doesn’t mean I’m not worthy of your respect, you douche lord.

In other news, I started applying for jobs once again.  It's such a frustrating process because the only jobs that are ever offered are those of the manual labor, chicken deboning or medical variety.  Oh, three of my favorite things!  And all the office jobs require you to have all these years of experience, which I don't have.  I simply can't catch a break.  I keep applying, regardless.  I also applied for different jobs that were advertised within the company, including a bar back/bartender.  I wasn't too sure what a bar back was but I thought I'd give it a shot, reasoning that it couldn't be much worse than what I was already doing.  How silly of me to think such things.  It could always be worse.  Shouldn't I know that by now?  I got called into the bar manager's office and he went on to tell me that he was restructuring the bar (things change just about every ten minutes at this company) and that he wasn't in need of a bar back but that he would bring me on as a bartender's apprentice.  I'd start out stocking soda and then serve coffee and eventually work my way up to alcohol.  I'm completely anti-alcohol so I wasn't thrilled with this job description but I was so desperate to get out of my current situation that I blurted out, "Sounds great to me, thanks!"  It's sad that I have to contiually compromise my principles like that but I have to do what's necessary at this point.  I've sacrificed a lot to work here.  I drive an hour and a half to and from work.  I work in a smoke-filled environment (I'm also anti-smoking) and I'm generally uncomfortable all the time but this job was seriously the only decent opportunity to get out of my crap town so I had to take it.  I just told myself all these sacrifices would be worth it one day.  I'm having second thoughts.

A few days pass by and the bar manager told me he had placed me on his schedule.  I breathed a sigh of relief knowing I had escaped customer service slavedom.  I start on New Year's Eve.  While I'm excited that I won't have to scrape soot or clean up after disgusting people, I'm still not excited about what I'm doing.  I am looking forward to just working with the servers and not with the general public.  It's not a typical bar like you'd imagine.  Really, it's just a hole in the wall where the beverage servers go to pick up the drinks for the customers who are sitting.  Sometimes a random customer will come in and order something but those occasions are usually few and far between and I'm glad for that.  I'd much rather work with my peers instead of the filthy public.  Plus, I was told it would be a pay increase.  And I'll actually be getting tips this time.  So, that's a plus.

Basically, I'm just hoping this position doesn't suck as much as customer service because I really just want to work my way over to being a point of sale clerk, which is basically handing customer's their winnings in cash.  It's easy and it pays pretty well.  And it's not that I'm lazy but this job is only to support my continued ventures into animation.  I can't even think straight when I get off work now, much less be creative and work on animation.  The work is literally too physically exhausting.  But, if I was a point of sale clerk, I would sit in a chair and work a cash register for eight hours.  Sounds pretty sweet to me!  It's not that I'm lazy, I'm just trying to concentrate on my hopefully eventual career.  That position wouldn't be as tiresome and I really feel like I'd be able to get off work and pick up a pencil and start drawing right after.

Plus, I'm not trying to change over jobs so soon.  If I were to do that and get a new job, that would mean three jobs in three months and that does not look good on my resume.  Also, since I am among the first employees, I have seniority over everyone else.  That could really help out if a point of sale position ever opens up and I apply for it.  Ya know, as much as I want to jump ship, I really am trying to be practical.  I don't want to do anything too drastic or irrational just because I'm miserable.  I don't want to get myself out of a sticky situation right now only to cause more problems down the road.

I'm going to be a freaking bartender?  Can you believe that crap?

Strangle me with the Christmas Cord

"that's me in the corner
that's me in the spotlight
losing my religion..."
-R.E.M.

Needless to say, Christmas sucked.  I spent it with hundreds of toothless rednecks who got drunk and blew their cigarette smoke in my face.  No, I actually wasn't with family, although that description isn't much of a stretch from the usual Jackson get-togethers.  I was working.  And it was crazy busy.  On Christmas Eve, the place was virtually dead but everyone came out to celebrate our savior's birth by drinking and gambling.  Ah, it warms my stagnant heart.

I'm not really a big fan of my extended family so I wasn't too terribly upset about missing Christmas with them this year.  I was a bit more upset about missing Christmas Eve, which is when my immediate family get together.  It's the one I enjoy the most.  And I missed it because I had to work.  But, like I said, it wouldn't be that big of a deal for me...if I liked my job.  I still hate it and things haven't gotten any better.  Throw away empty beer bottles.  Scrape ashtrays.  Wipe away fingerprints.  Scrub away the stickiness from spilled drinks on the machines.  Push up the chairs that people do not bother to put back in place.  Cry on the inside.  Rinse and repeat for eight hours.

I have never been this depressed on Christmas.  And just maybe I've never been this empty in general.  This is the day I was supposed to celebrate the birth of our lord and savior and yet He was the farthest thing from my mind, a common occurrence lately.  I'm depressed and then this whole God situation makes me even more depressed.  I don't know where to turn.

And to top it off, I found out the next day that my aunt died on Christmas.  Good timing, eh?  Celebrating the birth of one and mourning the loss of another.  As if the day wasn't emotionally exhaustive enough.  Don't feel bad, though.  Like most of my family, I wasn't that close to her, at least not in the later years.  She was a chain smoking drunk who caused a lot of problems for my grandmother, which caused Mom a lot of grief as well.  But, really, how many dead family members does this make now?  2009 has been a year full of celebrity and relative deaths.  It's pretty tiresome.

To me, it seems the older people get, the more disastrous major holidays like Christmas become.  I think one part of it is the fact that all that magic dissipates with age.  The myth of Santa is broken and then you get too old for toys and eventually your parents make your car payment for you or chip in with your rent money and that's your gift.  While necessary, it's not as fun as a Wii.  Then, the drama sets in.  With age comes insight and you start seeing your family for who they are and they are definitely imperfect.  Conflicts arise and family bonds are strained.  Then, one by one they start dying and those bonds are cut and everything starts to feel sore.  You have to work on Christmas or you find yourself alone and drinking.  You don't want your photo taken by the tree because you're too fat or your acne has flared up again.  You freak out about buying things for other people because you want to both please and impress.  It becomes less about God and more about gifts.  It's more stressful than satisfying.  The mask of magic is cracked by reality and it's all just so disenchanting.

It doesn't even feel like Christmas happened.  I've been so caught up in a swirl of working and sleeping that I've lost all track of time, space and reality.  And maybe it's for the best.  It's not like I would have enjoyed myself.  I have nothing in common with my family.  I certainly have nothing in common with the patrons at the bingo pavilion.  At least with the holidays out of the way, things can return to the normal numbness.  If I can just make it past New Year's, I can leave behind the year that was the death of my faith, family and me.

Phase 2 Bonus: When Christmas Came Crashing Down

I wrote another article for Phase 2 Studio about a particularly odd Christmas memory of mine.  Click here to read all aboot it.

Enjoy and Happy Holidays!

Oh my Gash!

I’ve come to the realization that I’m tired of feeling guilty for feeling the way I feel.

I’ve been thinking a lot about my negative attitude lately and wondering if it’s justified.  I’ve said before that I’ve never had anything too traumatic happen to me.  I’ve never had to deal with a car crash or cancer.  I’ve pretty much never wanted for much of anything and yet I’m depressed and defeated.  Sure, college didn’t work out how I had hoped but that happens to a lot of people.  Get over it.  Sure, I can’t be an animator straight from college but a lot of people have to work to get to their desired job.  Get over it.  Sure, I’m stuck in a job I hate but so are a lot of other people.  Get over it.  Sure, all the special people in my life have left me over time.  It’s called moving on.  Make new friends and get over it.  Sure, after all these years of yo-yo dieting, I’m fatter than I’ve been in years.  Get in the gym and just get over it already.  All these things are easy to tackle if they came as separate situations, few and far between but when you take all these problems, smash them together and then drop them on someone like me who already has a depressive personality, it equals disease and disaster.

I’ve been fortunate in many aspects of my life but I’ve also had the misfortune of missing out on a lot of things that others have not.  You can look at me and tell that I’ve been well taken care of.  I have clothing and plenty of food and I’ve never been without supplies for school or a place to sleep.  All in all, my family is healthy despite all of our bad habits and while we are all dysfunctional, no one is so bad that it creates an intolerable tension.  Yet, there is something so profound that is missing within me.  It’s God.  It’s relationships.  It’s connections with people.  I don’t have anyone significant in my life.  As much as I’ve gone on about being single and how there’s nothing wrong with it, it still sucks to be lonely.  And I think being single is just fine if you have other strong relationships in your life.  Someone once told me that humans are social creatures and not meant to be alone.  I agree with that wholeheartedly but I don’t think you have to be in a romantic relationship with someone to ease the loneliness.  I think you can find satisfaction in friends or family.  Yet, I’m so different from my family and can’t seem to find stability in friendships.  I wake up every day and can find no reason to stay conscious.  I have nothing to look forward to, no one that I want to see, no job that I can feel good about, no purpose in this afterlife.  No meaning. 

Some people might think it’s inappropriate for me to complain because of all the things that I have in my life and in some ways they might be right.  But, it’s just things.  I’ll never deny that I am more fortunate than a lot of people but it’s all on the outside.  I do have things but I have no genuine joy.  I’m empty where it counts.  I’m just a sad person and I have material things to get me through the day but I have no real relationships to carry me further than that.  And as far as who’s to blame, I don’t know.  I won’t say that it’s all everyone else’s fault because I realize that I have many problems of my own.  I’m jealous and impatient and easily irritated.  I’m a mess and not easy to get along with sometimes.  Yet, it just seems like someone should be able to handle me.  I wouldn’t say I’m that terrible of a person, although I’m slowly getting there.  So, for me, I think I have every right to complain because I might seem fine on the outside but I am actually torn apart internally.  I don’t have a best friend like most people do or a special relationship with my family like a lot of people do.  I’ve never had a true, genuine connection with anyone.  No romance.  Nothing physical.  Nothing emotional.  I am more alone that most people can even comprehend and the fact that school didn’t work out or the fact that I can’t get a decent job just makes everything worse.  So, while people might think I complain about petty things, I think people don’t understand how much stock I put into these “petty” things.  I wasn’t just hoping school would be a fun time.  I truly hoped it would change my life, that I would be surrounded by like-minded people and that I would forge lifelong friendships.  Yet, when I graduated I left college with nothing but a one hundred thousand dollar diploma.  I had hoped I could find a good job that would give me purpose, a reason for waking up and that didn’t happen, either.

While I’ve never had my hand chopped off, I’ve had many a paper cut.  You know how that pain is more of an irritation than a hurt?  It’s not something that stops your breath but it stays in your head.  Now, imagine multiple paper cuts, thousands of miniature slices that stem from your wrist to the tips of your fingers, that irritating pain multiplied a million times over.  The pain increases slowly, a hurt that builds upon itself, an agony that eventually surpasses soothing, an affliction that intensifies to the point of insanity.  The hand becomes swollen and useless and in time infection sets in until it amputation is the only option.  Whether things go down hard and fast or slow and methodically, either way something ends up missing. 

I don’t feel bad about complaining anymore because while I might be fortunate in some areas, I suffer in others.  My life is just a series of paper cuts, small gashes that never heal, only spread and sicken me.  It’s one event after another, stacked on top of each other and never dissipating, only growing and magnifying and weighing me down.  And really, complaining is just another form of expression after all, just like crying or laughing.  It’s just a way to vent and I don’t think it’s immature or selfish for me to have my own set of complaints.  Everyone has a legitimate struggle that they have the right to express.  I will not be made to feel bad about the bad stuff in my life.  You don’t know me and you don’t know what I’ve been through so don’t tell me I am not fit to fuss.

Frankly, all I have left is coffee and complaining.  I can’t help how I feel and I don’t choose to be gloomy, at least not consciously, and I know people are tired of this barrage of negativity that’s blooming forth but this is the situation I find myself in right now and the only thing I can do is what I’ve always done: write my way through it.  Does it suck?  Surely.  But what other choice do I have?  Food hasn’t been able to fix my fumbles.  Prayer hasn’t penetrated my problems.  Movies haven’t worked their magic and so now I just sit here and try to purge this poison from my head.  It doesn’t necessarily work but I suppose there’s worse ways to spend my time.  So, I complain.  At least I’m not out getting drunk almost every single night like some people.  At least I’m not going from one sexual partner to another like some people.  At least I’m not getting high and pushing my pain on others.  I’m just simply trying to bandage my cuts the best way I know how.

And I just can’t apologize for that.

Phase 2 Friday: Breaking up with Birthdays

Thanks to my crap work schedule, I didn't have time to write this yesterday and make it calendar appropriate but here is my latest Phase 2 article.  It's about my birthday, which was yesterday.  Well, it wasn't about my birthday specifically but about my general feelings regarding my birthday.

Click here and enjoy. 

Putting Holes in Happiness

Well, I know you’re not going to want to hear this and I definitely didn’t want to have to say this but I hate my new job!

There’s a lot going on with my mind and my feelings right now and I’m pretty much sick of it.  I’ve been reduced to nothing more than a whiner and I do realize how pathetic I seem.  I’m just as tired of complaining as everyone is reading/hearing about it.  All I know is that I can’t believe I’ve had another pile of crap dropped on me yet again.  And the difference is I was feeling really good about things this time.  I tried that whole sham positivity thing and it got me nowhere.  It’s times like these that only reinforce my negativity and dark outlook on life.  I keep trying to compromise, keep trying to settle, keep trying to make things work with what I have and what I’ve been given but even that never seems to work out. 

School didn’t turn out how I expected and I had to overcome so much disappointment but I eventually I tried to accept it and tried to make the best of it and just get through.  After graduation, I struggled to cope with how everything turned out, from my work, art, relationships and even myself, and how nothing went as I had hoped it would.  I put my dream of becoming an animator aside because I didn’t learn as much as I should have in school.  I instead decided to be more sensible and take a nice office job so that I could start earning enough money to move out of my parents’ home and become independent and self-sufficient.  After I had settled myself, I’d pick up on pursuing animation again.  Okay, fine.  Well, a ton of applications and dozens of interviews later, I had to take a crap job at a skank shop working with the public, something I did not want to do because I hate working with the public.  The more I work in customer service, the more I realize how crappy people are.  Plus, I just really like doing office work.  My experience at Paris Packaging was fun and interesting and while it didn’t involve my passion for writing or animating, it did involve an interest of mine in some capacity and hey, that’s better than doing something you loathe.  Yet, I had to stoop to the level of working with people, had to compromise, had to settle yet again.  And I hated it but that’s all I could get.  A few weeks later, I am offered this new job and am told how upscale the facility was going to be and how easy my job was going to be and how I was going to be tipped and all these appealing things.  I thought things were looking up, that maybe the goal of getting out of the house might come true. 

Cut to two weeks ago when I actually started working and it was nothing like they described.  And now I’d rather just stay home and take a lower paying job that will at least make me not want to drive into a tree instead of driving into work.

I feel like I’ll never be on my own, never make enough money to pay for anything except my debts and I’ll never be happy, satisfied or at peace.  And the reason why is because every goal I ever have is always slightly out of each, always never as wonderful as I hope, never as merciful as it seems.

The past two weeks have been such a blur.  I worked a fifty-hour week the first week, driving and working and sleeping and crying and that’s all I did.  I didn’t even have time to write anything down and that was a big struggle for me.  It was like my mind was shut off, just focusing on making it to the weekend so that I could rest.  What kind of life is this to wake up, cry on the way to work, work, cry on the way back home, go to sleep and do it again the next day?  I have to drive an hour and a half on the way to work and the way home so I’m putting in eleven hours a day for this crap job and by the time I come back home, I’m too exhausted to eat or write or do much of anything besides wash the stink of smoke out of my skin and collapse onto the bed.  And the job itself is not at all how it was described to me when I was first offered the position.  I am not in customer service, as I was told I would be.  I’m nothing more than a janitor, not that there’s anything wrong with that but that’s just not what I signed up for at all.  I spend my eight hours walking in circles wiping fingerprints of electronic bingo machines, picking up empty beer bottles and emptying ashtrays and this past week we received new instructions to scrape the soot from the ashtrays.  So, as if dumping out those dirty things wasn’t bad enough, I gotta get in there with a crusty rag and release all that soot and ash from the tray right into my face and carry around that soot soaked rag with me during the entirety of my shift.  It’s mind numbing and I feel like it’s going to slowly rot my brain with the monotony and repetition.  Plus, I’m not getting tipped, which I was told I would be.  Plus, I’ve had to buy my uniforms, shoes, walkie-talkies and even the cloth that I use to wipe down the machines and all of that’s being taken out of my check, which I think is such crap.  Oh, and I wasn’t trained on how to use the machines so when people ask me I just shrug like an idiot ‘cause no one told me.  There is no satisfaction, there is no sense of accomplishment, there is only inane cleaning and pushing up chairs and walking and walking and walking.  Plus, the company is being unreasonable at this point, making us come in early and leave late and changing rules every other day and generally driving me crazy and telling us not to complain.  I still don’t have my uniform pants because the company decided not to order them until the last minute and the place is still under construction.  It’s not even finished being built and on the first night, almost all of the machines went haywire, which made every guest that came in angry and of course they took it out on me because I was there first point of contact.  That was the day I had to work eleven hours (sans driving) and was only allowed a half an hour lunch break after working nine of them.  That’s just some of the crap I’ve had to endure so far.    

I just can’t believe my life has been reduced to cleaning up after dirty old people and having them blow smoke in my face so much that I can barely breathe sometimes.  And I seriously hate working with the public, another reason I wanted an office job.  And speaking of the public, I have never seen so many toothless people and women with mustaches in my entire life.  People will piddle away money on electronic bingo but they can’t save a few bucks for a toothbrush or for some depilatory?  And frankly, some of the other employees don’t look much better and yet this place is an “upscale” facility.  Please.  And my job isn’t “upscale” at all.  There is no pride in what I do.  I’m college educated, smart, articulate and I’m picking up cigarette butts off the ash laden floor for eight hours a day.  I understand that you gotta do what you gotta do and life doesn’t always work out how you’ve planned and sometimes you just gotta suck it up but this is just yet another example of how I’ve had to reduce the scope of my dreams in favor of a little bit of practicality.  Couldn’t be an animator so let’s at least do some office work.  Can’t do that so let’s go back to JCPenney, where I at least know the job and can feel comfortable there.  I couldn’t believe I lowered myself to going back there because when I quit all those years ago, I vowed I’d never return.  Now, I realize it wasn’t as bad as I remember or at least it wasn’t as bad as my job is now.  Yet, I can’t even go back there ‘cause they aren’t hiring so I have to take crappy job after crappy job and drive and hour and half just to get there because there is literally no other opportunities close by.  I am trapped by location and circumstance.

It’s sad but I’ve already started applying to other places and I’ve even applied for different positions within the company because I can’t do this much longer.  I’ll literally go insane or drive my car off a bridge.  And the positions within the company probably aren’t much better.  It’s just sad that I’ve spent so many years in school and yet I still have to wish and hope and grovel for one lousy position after another because I can’t do any better.  I have no other skills or experience besides customer service and the animation thing hasn’t gotten me anywhere and it won’t get me anywhere around here and it frustrates me.  I thought about going back to school but I can’t because I can’t afford it.  I’m stuck.

You know, the job sucks and all but that isn’t even all of it.  It’s just a small contribution to my cracked emotions.  It’s the job, yes, but it’s also that deep disappointment that’s setting in once again.  And this particularly hurts because I had felt so good about it, thought this job would be the first step in the process of moving out and becoming independent.  I was actually on the verge of feeling good about something, of actually being...happy?  But I see that it won’t happen.  That chance at happiness was shot down real quick, bullet-ridden and ruined.  I see that I’m still miserable, still lost, still behind in life and it hurts because I try to make things better.  I tried to go to school and follow my dreams because I’ve always been told to follow my dreams.  Well, I did and I fell on my butt.  I wasn’t satisfied with staying at home so I tried to venture out, within reason, to find something better, something that would allow me to move out and start my own life and that fell through as well.  No one can say I haven’t tried to better things but I keep being pushed down at every turn and it’s exhausting.  I’m so tired and there are times when I feel like giving up.  I feel like a failure as it is and yet I keep trying but sometimes I don’t want to try anymore.  It feels hopeless so I might as well not exert any more energy than is necessary.  I know the true failure isn’t in not succeeding but in giving up but it’s really hard to keep going when everything goes wrong all the time. 

As I mentioned, I’m too exhausted to write and can’t find the time to do it anyway because if I’m not sleeping or working, I’m driving.  And that sucks because I really wanted to work on my book and my blog and I started this new gig at Phase 2 Studio and I just simply won’t be able to do it all.  In fact, this entry you’re reading now was written during one of my days off and right now I’m probably either working, sleeping, driving or sobbing.  I just don’t understand why I can’t have a job that isn’t all consuming and horrible.  I’m not asking for the moon, just something that I can do to help me get to where I want to be.

I don’t even have a reprieve.  I can’t get lost in writing or reading or watching movies because I’m too tired and I can’t even catch a break in my sleep.  I’ve been dreaming about my job just about every night that I can remember.  That doesn’t bring a restful sleep.  I have two days off but it really just feels like one and a half because on my first day off, I basically sleep for most of the day.  I don’t set an alarm clock because I feel I need all the recuperative sleep I can get and if that means wasting away half the day, then so be it.

I’m just pretty sure nothing is going to be okay ever again.  As I’ve said, I have no other skills besides customer service and it’s funny because I hate people.  And yet I’m trapped with them.  I’ll never break through to something better because I have no skills, training or experience in anything else and no one will hire a guy with no skills, training or experience.  I had applied for a position within the company that I had never done before but as I pleaded my case to the lady in human resources, telling her I was easily trainable and willing to learn, she told me other people with experience had applied for the job and they would be the ones to get it.  There will always be someone more suited for the job and why shouldn’t they get it?  I’ll never be an animator, writer, or a real person.

I am just a shell at this point.

Murder is Delicious

I went to the mall the other day to pick up a pair of shoes for work.  When I walked up to the front entrance, two Salvation Army volunteers were standing in front of the doors, ringing that freaking bell like they were using a shake weight.  In my annoyance, I slipped a dollar out of my wallet and slid it in the red kettle.  The lady stopped ringing that bell long enough to hand me a coupon from Chick-fl-A.  Free chicken sandwich with the purchase of a medium Coca-Cola.  Yikes.  Lost on me.  I accepted it anyway because it was free and I didn’t feel like explaining to her that I was a vegetarian.  It was a small slap in the face, another reminder of how frustrating being a vegetarian can be sometimes, how I miss out on fun and free foods, how my willpower is slowly crumbling under the weight of dead, delectable flesh.

October marked the two-year anniversary of becoming meat free.  I can’t say it’s been a good two years.  I became a vegetarian because I am a huge animal lover and advocate so it just felt wrong to me to eat them.  It seemed pretty hypocritical to cuddle up to cats while chewing on chickens.  All animals should be respected equally, even slimy, disgusting snakes.  Plus, I’m abhorred by the absolutely terrible conditions the poor creatures are forced to endure before their demise.  They are tortured and starved and pumped full of chemicals and hormones that probably have terrible side effects on them before they are inefficiently killed.  I can’t even begin to describe how horrible it all is.  If you check out footage of slaughterhouses, you’ll see for yourself the indescribable pain, mutilation, torture, the agonizing life and death of these helpless animals.  So, two years ago I decided not to be a part of that madness.  Of course, I had no misconceptions that slaughterhouses would shut down and people would stop killing cows and impaling pigs but I knew that I wasn’t going to be a part of it.  And that made me feel good. 

At first.

Although I identify myself as a Christian, I've never been too terribly devout.  Also, I’m not into politics and basically, for the entirety of my life, I’ve never had a strong opinion about anything or stood up for any cause.  This was my chance to affiliate myself with something I deemed important.  I had something tangible to believe in.  I felt good, like I had a purpose.  Plus, I dropped about fifteen pounds within a few weeks of cutting meat out of my diet.  A bonus.  And the longer I went without meat, the easier it got.  For the first year.

Things all changed when I graduated from college and moved back home. 

Let me just say that I’m an incredibly picky eater.  I don’t like anything.  And even when I ate meat, I usually only ate chicken.  I had chicken almost daily.  So, when I didn’t have chicken anymore, I settled for chicken substitutes.  And the really funny thing is I became a vegetarian but I hate vegetables.  I loathe leafy greens and will not touch a salad.  So you may ask what exactly it is that I ate?  Nothing good.  Mostly breads, pastas, junk food.  Carbohydrates and crap.  But, I tried to limit all of that.  I mostly ate baked chips and meat substitutes and low calorie candies.  That was when I was in school and I had more options and I was more occupied.

Now, unfortunately, there aren’t nearly as many meat substitute options available in my small town.  Sure, I have the choice between a garden burger or…oh, wait, that’s it!  So, to make up for the lack of meat and meat alternatives, I supplemented my diet with a lot more junk food, more than I had in school.  That coupled with the fact that I was not in school and jobless with a lot of time on my hands led to me ballooning up in a matter of months.  I started to think meat might be more satisfying.  If I could just get a hold of a nicely grilled chicken breast, I wouldn’t be in such need of a chocolate cake.  Yet, I felt bad.  Any time I thought about returning to roasted flesh, I thought about the reasons why I became a vegetarian in the first place.  I didn’t want to lose that conviction that I clung to so firmly.   

I went to a health food store one day to inquire about a supplement that was supposed to be a good source of protein.  I was met by a hippie/bohemian lady and I asked her if the pills would be good for me since I was a vegetarian.  She said they were and then she told me she was a vegetarian for thirteen years.  My ears perked up, interested in hearing about her experiences as a non-meat eater.  I was caught off guard and a little disappointed when she said, “And I said to myself one day, ‘I’m not doing a damn thing for these animals!’”  She went back to eating meat after that.  I guess that simple revelation was all she needed to convert to carnivorism again.  She also said that a lot of meat substitutes can mess up your system and throw it off balance.  All about how they are overly processed and can disrupt your hormones.  She really made me think.  I thought If anyone would be a vegetarian or vegan, it would be that lady.  And the fact that she wasn’t almost made me feel like it was okay to eat meat again.  Plus, I ate meat substitutes almost every single day so there was no telling what kind of processed hormonal garbage that was running through me.

But if I went back to eating meat, meat is full of hormones as well.  I can either consume a bunch of soy that’s going to throw my body out of whack and give me man breasts or I can eat a bunch of meat filled with hormones that'll make me grow a second pair of testicles or something.  I’m screwed either way I go.  What about organic, hormone free meats, you ask?  That’s a great idea, in theory, but once again, there isn’t that kind of option in this small town.  There aren’t even any good meat substitutes or hormone-free meats in any surrounding towns!  I’m back to where I started.

So I think about staying a vegetarian but I hate vegetables.  And I still drink milk and eat eggs and wear leather and that is just as bad as eating meat ‘cause the animals are still tortured and killed for diary and eggs and leather.  So, really, what am I accomplishing?  Not much of anything.  But I have to wonder if I’m just going through a phase of doubt or if I really want to go back to eating meat.  Frankly, I don’t feel better about myself and I don’t feel like I have a clean conscious like I thought I would.  I just feel like I haven’t made any great strides with my diet or my morals.  In fact, I’m almost embarrassed when people ask me why I don’t eat meat.  I’m worried they’ll automatically think I’m one of those PETA people but it’s not like that at all.  I don’t care if other people eat meat.  And I know me not eating meat probably won’t make any difference in the world but it was just a personal decision I made to try to make myself feel better about a situation that I thought was horrid. 

I just don’t know.  I know once I have that first taste of meat, I would have undone two entire years of any kind of progress toward a goal that I thought I was making.  Would I even enjoy it anymore knowing what I know?  Even when I was eating meat, I was picky about the kind of meat I would eat.  I don’t like the skin on chicken and the fat on beef always made me queasy.  What if I order a steak and once it’s plated and put in front of me, I just see a diseased piece of dead flesh?  Or what if I taste ambrosia?  I’m sitting here freaking out about going back to eating meat after only two years.  I couldn’t imagine making that decision after thirteen years like that lady.  I think after that long, I’d just see it through.  It just feels like way too much time to dedicate to something to just give it up so easily.

I hate to say this but as much as I love animals and as much as I tried to do good, there comes a time when I guess you have to put yourself first and if your health is being compromised, maybe you should throw in the towel.  I don’t want to have man boobs and I do want to be able to have more options when it comes to food.  I suppose the only option is to try to go organic and buy hormone-free meats but that would have to be after I’ve moved away to a place that offered such.  And that’s definitely not here.  I feel very limited and very screwed.  I want to do the right thing, to be healthy and happy and feel good about standing up for a cause but at this point all I feel is tired and busty.  I don’t want to eat a bunch of hormones and chemicals, no matter whether I’m eating meat or meat substitutes.  I want to do what’s best for my body but I still keep thinking about those poor animals and I want to try to make some kind of stand against their terrible treatment but I just feel defeated.  I’m not making any difference and I’m not making any progress but I also can’t see myself going back after so long going without.

I said I’d make a decision by Thanksgiving.  If I was going to stay meat-free, I’d purchase a tofurkey and call it a day but I I was gonna go back to meat, I’d go back to being a carnivore in style, with some delicious turkey and ham.  Yet, I was still apprehensive and when Thanksgiving arrived, I didn’t eat any meat.  That doesn’t mean I decided to stay a vegetarian.  It just meant I still hadn’t made a decision.  I was never worried about eating when over at my grandmother’s house because there was usually some sort of bread I could munch on but this year there was nothing.  No cornbread.  No macaroni and cheese.  Nothing to put on my plate to give the illusion that I was eating.  I ended up having some banana pudding.  My sister, Shannon, looked at my plate in disgust and asked me why I wasn’t eating anything else.  I told her I couldn’t have any of the turkey.

“You can have turkey!” she declared with a tilt of disapproval in her voice.

Meat eaters just don’t understand.

I didn’t argue with her but that’s the kind of attitude I get all the time when I refuse Mom’s cooked meats or when I tell people I’m a vegetarian.  I don’t understand why people have such a block against not consuming meat.  It’s like I’m explaining Calculus in a different language to these people and it’s frustrating and I’m just tired of having to justify my decision.  Yeah, I hate to say it but people are another one of the reasons I’m thinking about jumping onto the ol’ bacon bandwagon.  Yet, I can’t get over the fact that I worked on being a vegetarian for two years and if I go back now it’ll feel like two years wasted, although I suppose it wouldn’t be a waste.  It would have been a good effort.  Perhaps I can be proud of myself for at least sticking it out this long.  I don’t want to be selfish but I don’t want my health to be compromised, either.  As important as I think those cows and chickens are, I have to admit I care more about myself than I care about them.  And that goes with my whole newly embittered attitude.  As careless as I’m becoming with myself and with people, I suppose animals are the next in line to face my apathetic wrath.  I also think about the few vegetarian acquaintances I’ve made and to go back to eating meat would make me feel like I was betraying them.  I’m worried they might not like me anymore, might call me a traitor.  Of course, if they only befriended me or only liked me just because I didn’t suck on sausage, then what kind of acquaintances were they in the first place?  But I have so few contacts nowadays that I try to hold on to the ones I have, no matter how crappy they might be. 

I’m at a loss.  Meat is murder but…I have to admit, murder is delicious.

Cantus Mortis

looking over the discourse of earth
living and dying and back to birth
cycles of dissonance and depression
these filtered feelings and mental regression
the bodies line up along the white wall
falling in line with those about to fall

so we’ll chant
“death! death! death!”
‘cause there is nothing
left! left! left!
we’ll march toward
our final day
God has never been
so far away

pills have raped our bodies of feeling
sex has kept our hearts from healing
what’s the use of this substance abuse
but to numb the soul and tighten the noose
filling the void with prescriptions and pain
yet there is no hope, no life, nothing to gain

so we’ll chant
“death! death! death!”
‘cause there is nothing
left! left! left!
we’ll march toward
our final day
God has never 
been so far away

is this what life means
to walk holes in floors and make filth clean?
the swirls of smoke leave my skin sagged
the only comfort in the form of a body bag
zip it up and shut out the light that isn’t there
faith is dead and so is peace
and i simply do not care

there is no god
no blood no flesh no love
there is no kind of redemption
only dead space up above

so we’ll chant
“death! death! death!”
‘cause there is nothing
left! left! left!
please, God, tell me
you’ve not gone away
that you’ve never left me
You were only misplaced

Post-mortem Misery

“the fire came and went
took everything away
the bruises never heal
i tried to take a breath
to say what wasn’t said
but there is nothing left of me, no
there is nothing left
i wanna believe in someone
i wanna believe in something
i wanna believe that i can love again…”
-Innerpartysystem

I don’t think I can possible adequately articulate how dead I am.  I think a part of that is because I cannot clearly define the moment when my heart stopped beating, when I turned from this naïve, innocent child into the insignificant undead.  There’s not one defining moment where I can stop the tape and say, “Yes!  This is what happened and where it happened and how it happened.  This is where I died and I am justifiably angry about it.  Can’t you see that I have every right to be angry, to be hurt and bruised?”  Maybe it would have been easier if I had been shot or stabbed, if someone else was to blame for my bloodied body but I think that is a part of the problem.  Either I killed myself or simply gave up, allowed my heart to stop beating, to succumb to this weary world.  Is it possible that I could have jumped from that sixth story balcony instead of simply writing about it?  Could I have overdosed on those anti-depressants the girl two doors down from me sneaked into my room one night after I had sobbed in her car?  It’s a hard option to think about, that I could have done this to myself, that I could be responsible for my own walking death, my own version of hell.  No, it’s easier to blame everyone else, to defend my actions because it’s humiliating to be wrong, to make the wrong choice.  I always hated looking stupid.  And I don’t like to think of myself as being weak but apparently I am.  If I could jump ship so easily over something that so many other people would just brush off, what does that say about my character? 

Maybe I’m just a fragile individual.  Is there anything wrong with that?  Is it a character flaw or is it just a natural and differentiating characteristic?  Is it a weakness or is it something that I have allowed to weaken me?  I suppose I’ve never had a reason to be tough and when I had the chance to develop a thicker skin, I allowed that chance to kill me instead.  Hm, what an epiphany.  This certainly doesn’t help my self-esteem. 

It’s as if I’m walking on electric wires sometimes and every once in a while, one of them will dance around like a charmed snake and strike me and the jolt will make my heart beat for just a second.  And in that flash of pain and light, I see God and good people and it kills me one more time when it all disappears again.  I have these days, these moments when I feel like I’m almost alive again or at least feel the yearning to want to be alive.  I think if I can just beat myself in the chest hard enough, if I can grab hold of one of those wires and keep it close to my heart, it will resume its rhythmic throbbing again, that I’ll somehow find my breath and my lungs will expand and my flesh will close up and I will be alive again, that I will be the boy I once knew, that I will not be disgusted with myself anymore.

But those moments are just like those flashes of electricity, few and far between and lasting only in seconds.  Something always comes along to remind me of my madness.  People and their obnoxious behaviors always send me spiraling back into my misery.  I can say for sure that if no one particular person did me in, a whole lot of individuals at least helped me get to the point of saturation.  Well, I say that but it goes back to blaming other people for my problems.  Yes, people suck but that’s just the way it is.  It’s not like anyone in particular had it out for me.  If one person determined my demise, my anger could be justified but in reality, I just ran into real people, people who were flawed and frustrated like I am.  I suppose I can’t blame other people for being imperfect and I can’t blame them for how they project their imperfections.  I was merely a casualty, caught in the crossfire of cussing and crushed dreams.   

It almost seems too easy to have those flashes of life that sometimes circulate through me.  As down as I feel I am, as far deep in the hole as I feel, how is it possible that I can get glimpses of the light?  Is it possible that I’m not as destroyed as I have led myself to believe or am I simply kidding myself by thinking I’ll ever find humanity again?  It seemed like I found myself a corpse overnight and only a few short months later I’m ready to be resuscitated again.  How does that happen?  Shouldn’t death seem a little bit more permanent or does death itself have an expiration date?  Maybe I’m just mistaken, just feeling residual spasms of life?  I guess it just seems hopeless sometimes, to have fallen so far down and to suddenly feel like life is a distant yet distinct actuality.  It really only leads to more confusion.  What am I?  How can I find my way back to where I was when I don’t know where I am now? Am I in some kind of bi-polar purgatory?  Is hell on the horizon or is this hell, this constant back and forth of frustration and frenzy?  If hell is the slow and steadfast dissimilation of the brain, then I am there, roasting in my own regrets.  Or maybe I’m just mistaken.  Am I really dead at all or did I just put myself into some kind of self-induced coma to cope with my ever-decreasing grasp on reality?

I'm just asleep.  Or crazy.  Or dead.  Or all of the above.

It's as if I'm fighting myself, struggling with whether or not I should give in to this..condition I find myself in or if I should rail against it, to try to break free of these bonds, to fight for breath.  But, if I do, who's to say I won't end up right back here in this stain of existence?  Will whatever killed me the first time around come back for seconds?  I think before I can attempt to come alive again, I have to find out what I've become or what has been revealed of me.  Was that innocence all an act?  Maybe I have not been transformed, just uncovered.  That is a massively scary thought to digest.  I hope to God it's not true, that I wasn't damned from the start.  If I was changed, there's always the possibility of some sort of reversal but if I was always this way, if this is just who I am, there's no turning back.  But when I look at my future and all I see is inky black, I want to turn around, want to sprint from the spotty darkness that draws me in.

I'm at a loss.      

Grasping for Shore

"and in my best behavior
i am really just like him
look beneath the floor boards
for the secrets i have hid..."
 -Surfjan Stevens

I am absolutely terrified of change.  I’m worried that the change will always be worse than the current so I never want things to change.  I’m the type of person who digs a rut and then revels in it.  I guess I can find some semblance of comfort from  forming a routine, even if that routine is not ideal.  I am excellent at making things far worse while trying to fix them so I mostly don’t bother to try to make things better.  Yet, life changes.  It’s liquid and constantly rushing.  And here I am, caught in the wandering waves, fighting against the current but I’m just not strong enough.  I always have to give in and adapt because I have no other choice.  I’m hopeless against external changes and I’m starting to realize I can’t even help the changes that are rushing forth from within.

I remember change was a big deal in high school and became an even bigger deal after graduation.  Everyone was always talking about how other people were changing, how they went from good Christian kids to hard partying sex and drug addicts.  And I always vowed that I wouldn’t change like that.  I’d hold onto my morals, I’d be the same quiet yet loveable Bran that everyone knew in high school.  I would not succumb to the world.  I failed.  I think my first mistake was not wanting to change at all.  I guess I never realized back then that I should want to change for the better, to improve myself with each passing moment.  And while on the outside, I might seem basically unchanged since graduation, I am a whole new person entirely on the inside.  I’ve lost my morals, my trust, my faith.  I’ve realized that I am no better than a monster. 

I’m still dealing with change, still struggling with whether or not I should remain who I am or try to fix myself.  Am I even fixable?  As I said before, I usually end up screwing things up even worse when I try to make things right.  Before my heart hemorrhaged, I was on a mission to be the best I could be.  I was all about self-improvement, about love, about finding out who I am and working with myself to be the best I could be.  It’s funny because for a while there, maybe a week or two, I really felt like I was on the cusp of actually…accepting  myself.  I started to realize that I will never be strikingly handsome or exponentially talented or even that awesome of a person but I was beginning to accept that.  That was one thing in my ever-evolving life that would not change and I found peace with that.  Believe me, it wasn’t a sad moment.  As soon as I realize I couldn’t reach some unattainable goal, it gave me new focus, the motivation to just work with what I was given, not to be better than I am but to be the best I could be within my scope of ability.  And just as I was beginning to grasp onto that realization, it all fell away, crumbled underneath me like a fickle foundation.

As much as I tried not to, I did change after graduation and not for the better.  I’ve become someone unrecognizable to myself.  I’ve become bitter and bored with everything.  There is no joy, no happiness that I can find.  I cannot find it in art or music, even in movies or eating.  It is literally as if I have no heart at all, nothing to swell with happiness or break with despair.  There is no overwhelming joy or crippling pain, just nothing.  There is only an emptiness, an element of blank that carries me through consciousness.  It’s as if there is something that should be there, something that every person has, an essential piece of equipment that defines a human.  That, I am missing, as if it simply necrotized and fell away in those waves of change, lost in the salt water that I cannot even conjure up from the corners of my eyes.  I am not stimulated in either direction enough to elicit a response, whether it be tears or laughter.  I am simply dormant.

I still think about that nasty note I got, the one where the lady said I was bitter, judgmental and preachy.  I know it seems silly to dwell on one stranger’s uneducated judgment of me but I think the part that bothers me is that she is probably more right than I would want to believe.  I was offended.  I'm not like that at all!  Oh, wait, I think maybe I am.  It is yet another example of a change that I do not want to accept.  A simple stranger swoops in and tells me what my former friends cannot see, what I’ve either remained cleverly hidden or what they do not want to accept, that I have become something horrible.  It is something that has been brewing for the longest of time, another change that I have fought, a transition that I have tried to reject.  Yet, it’s too strong within me and I feel that it’s coming out in small ways, manifesting itself in my perceptions and behaviors, in the way I think and act and see the world.  It is a virus, a slow boiling poison that’s working its way within me and I can’t stop it.  I see it in my writing, looking back over past pieces, I can feel the ugliness in my words, a slight mean streak that I write off as sarcasm or black humor.  It’s there and it’s coming out in my words and in my actions.  I don’t know what the cure is because I’ve tested everything I could, from writing to religion and nothing has eased that emptiness.

I’m conflicted.  Sometimes I want to give up, to just let the waves wash over me and drown, to let the water soak my skin to the point of sloughing it all away, to simply disintegrate into the liquid.  And there’s another part of me that want to keep fighting, to swim as hard as I can in the direction of the shore, to crawl onto something solid, to rejoice in the stagnant sand and find some semblance of stillness.  Yet, I fear even that won’t last long enough.  Eventually the water will find me and wash me away again and again. 

I kind of think I’m destroying myself.

Black Friday? More Like Whack Friday!

No Phase 2 Friday article today.  Besides the special radio show, everyone had the week off.  Although I'm the new kid sitting at the lunch table, everyone at the site has been working hard on it for months now so they all took a well deserved break and I just happen to benefit from it!  I could write all day every day if I was allowed but it's all good.

With that being said, I debated long and hard on whether I should do a special "Thanksgiving" post.  I finally decided against it for several reasons.  First of all, I felt kind of icky about doing something that everyone else was doing.  It almost cheapens it, knowing that I'm just kind of following everyone else's lead and throwing in my thanks that will just get lost in the millions of other thanks that will be coming out at the same moment.  Now, let me say that I have nothing wrong with other people doing it.  Your thanks are made no less significant than anyone else's.  I'm not trying to act superior and say that I don't want to belong to "that crowd" or anything like that.  Just remember that I'm a basket case and my reasoning behind anything that I do or do not do is always gonna be jacked up.  It's hard to explain.

Secondly, I think I've adequately described my gratitude and expressed my good fortune over the past several posts of mine.  I'd just be going over already marked territory.  I hate to be cliche but shouldn't we give thanks every day?  But, hey, it's cool that people at least take one day out to be reminded of how good they have it, or at least to acknowledge that they have it better than a lot of other people.  I feel, for me, I'm reminded quite often of how fortunate and blessed I am.  Especially with my bad attitude.  I can't seem to be too bitter for too long because I always end up feeling guilty.  How can I be upset about having a crappy job when some people have no job at all?  How can I gripe about running out of food when some people have no food to run out of?  Yeah, I've covered this before.  And I will cover it again.  Just not today.

And lastly, I think I was at my least appreciative yesterday than I usually am on any other given day.  Thanksgiving has become a shadow of itself over the past several years and it just seems to keep getting worse.  I have to wonder if this is because I am older and my perceptions have changed or if maybe the people themselves have changed.  I guess it's a mixture of both.  Thanksgiving used to be this huge gathering at my grandmother's house.  She'd prepare a gigantic feast and by noon, almost our entire Jackson clan would be there to sit at the table, enjoy the food and each other's company.  It used to be a big deal.  But, as the years went by, people branched out and made their own families or had to work on Thanksgiving and the numbers dwindled.  People lost respect for the noon start time and started coming in around one or two or three in the afternoon, after all the food had already been covered in foil.  No one stayed for too long, just enough time to throw back some turkey and chug some beers before leaving to go pass out.  This year was the worst.  My grandmother has four sons and so you think about those four sons and their wives and their children.  That's a respectable number of people.  Well, only one of my grandmother's sons and family showed up this year and that was my dad and us.  My cousin Kristie and her children were also there.  Some random family member would stagger in here or there but we were mostly it.

It seems like our family is unraveling.  I honestly don't know most of the people that pass through my grandmother's house.  And they probably don't know much about me, either.  Everyone is popping kids out like crazy and I never see these kids so they grow up and they always look three years older although only one year has passed.  And you know how kids can be shy around strangers.  Well, that's how they act around me and my sister 'cause we are essentially strangers to them.  It's weird to have your own family cower away from you.  And it seems every year, there's more people but less teeth.  And I don't mean more people that show up.  That number always goes down.  I mean the number of new people that pass through is so much so that I can't keep track.  People bring their boyfriends or girlfriends or baby mamas or babies or mamas and then you never see them again.  Everyone is a stranger to me as well and that makes me cower.

If it weren't for my grandmother, I wouldn't even want to show up myself.  Everyone is disconnected and frankly, I don't even want to see these people in the first place.  We have nothing in common.  They are all straight up rednecks who like to spit and cuss and not brush their hair or teeth.  I can't get down with that.

Thanks for bringing down Thanksgiving for everyone, Brandork.

You're welcome.

So, of course, it's Black Friday and that means mass hysteria.  I can hear gunshots from my window as I'm typing this.  I always like to share this lovely little video on this day, to both amuse and educate the public.

Now, I think this is hilarious.  When I discovered this video about a year or two ago, I watched it repeatedly and had a good, hardy chuckle and the wig lady's expense.  I recently learned that the lady with the runaway hair was probably pregnant, which makes it slightly less hilarious but still pretty darn funny.  That might seem cruel but really, she should have known better.  When you go shopping on Black Friday, you gotta expect you're gonna bleed at some point during the day.  Also, I don't feel that bad.  She must not have been too hurt 'cause she was able to snatch that wig up right quick and situate it back on her big ol' head.  Suck it up, lady!  Better put that weave in your purse and keep going before those flat screen televisions disappear!  Plus, you don't know what was going on before that footage starting rolling.  Titch probably shanked two or three people in the parking lot just to get a good spot.

But, really, that video is just more evidence of how dumb and materialistic Americans are.  How obsessed are we over getting a good deal that we have to push and shove people to the ground just to get that Xbox?  Are we really willing to assault someone in front of us just to get to the Miley Cyrus dolls?  Come on, people!  Get it together.  It's not worth putting another human's safety at risk.  Well, Transformers are but that's besides the point!  Basically, we suck and this video confirms it.

And if that didn't tickle your funny bone, this should!  Paula Deen being hit in the face with a giant frozen ham.  Finally, the hogs have their revenge.

Don't worry, kids.  Paula's taken large pieces of meat to the face before.  She's used to it.

A Different World

Just like with my other job, I don't want to say much about this one.  If you read my article on the Phase 2 website, you'll recall my reluctance to release certain amounts of information because you just never know who's reading, listening or watching.  I hate to sound like one of those paranoid people but, you know, so far I'd really like to keep this job.  I'd rather not be fired over something as stupid as compromising my confidentiality agreement by giving away too much info.  Of course, this job is going to become a large part of my life.  I'm going to be spending most of my days/nights working so I'm bound to want to talk about it here or there but I'll try to be as general as possible.

With that being said, let me talk about how it's going so far.

I only worked Thursday and Friday and had this weekend off so it was kind of nice to ease into this new situation.  It was pretty intense because it's a new business with hundreds of employees and everyone was hired at the same time so we had this large orientation session complete with presentations and mass signings of paperwork.  I have to admit, it was also slightly boring but, you know, going over stuff like the sexual harassment policy and medical insurance isn't exactly titillating. 

It was kind of overwhelming to see everyone that I'd possibly be working with.  A vast range of races and ages and personality types.  I did notice that quite a few of the people seemed older, which I thought would be comforting at first but the more I thought about it, the more I wondered if I'd have anything in common with these people.  Then again, I just remembered that I always got along with the older people during my previous jobs so I tried not to worry about it too much.

During the presentation, I felt pretty good about where I was.  It really seemed like I was a part of something pretty big.  This new business is projected to bring in a lot of money to the city and even the state and it should help out so many people.  Not only will this business provide thousands of jobs by the time everything is completed but it should help out our schools and all that good stuff.  So, hopefully this place will be good for everyone overall.  Also, it's considered to be a very upscale and classy joint, which is pretty awesome.  It's nice to be a part of a job you can take pride in, something that you can feel good about joining.

The funny thing is, after two days, I'm still not entirely sure what my job entails.  I should find out tomorrow when I go in for job specific training.  I was told on the phone when I was offered the job that it should be pretty easy.  Of course, since it's a new business, things are always changing so maybe my job duties have changed but I do hope it's easy.  I know a lot of people are looking for challenging work, something that will stimulate their brain.  Well, for me, my brain is constantly stimulated enough.  I have so many other things going on, so many ideas that are constantly coming in and floating around in my head and at this point in my life, I don't need a job that's going to interfere with my thought process.  I say that because, while I'm very grateful for this job, this is not the last job I want to have.  This is not my goal.  This job is purely to provide the monetary means to help me continue my animation studies.  And the animation ideas and the ideas for written stories are what I want to keep lodged in my brain, not work.  When I worked at JCPenney, it was an easy job.  It was pretty mindless and I preferred it that way.  I can remember folding shirts and being struck with an idea for a poem or a line for a story.  I'd break off a strip of receipt paper, write down my ideas and then continue with my work.  I liked it because it allowed me to focus on more important things, my art and my writing, rather than concentrating solely on slacks.

That doesn't sound douchey, does it?  I'm still going to take the job seriously and do my best.  I'm not going to mess around at work.  I guess I'm just saying that it would be nice to be able to do my job while still concentrating on my main goal, which is to continue writing and eventually start animating again.  I have so many ideas that I want to keep fresh in my mind, so many new ideas that keep coming in and I don't want to lose that.

It's an hour and a half drive to and from work.  While it's not too bad at this point, I am sure that will change after I've been on my feet for eight hours at a time and I'm exhausted and I still have an hour and a half drive ahead of me.  But, I already made a decision that I would do what it took to get the job and keep the job because I really believe this job will help me move out of my parents' house and into an apartment and will allow me to get all the necessary tools I'll need to get back into the swing of animation.  Maybe that tiresome drive won't last too long.  Hopefully I'll have enough saved up soon so that I can get myself moved out.

Because the job is pretty far away, it's like dipping myself into a different world.  The drive is like a portal that I enter that sends me to a completely different realm.  This feeling is reinforced by the fact that I'm a stranger in this sea of unfamiliar faces.  I don't know anyone and no one knows me.  It's almost like I'm back in Savannah.  It's all awkward and uneasy.  It's certainly going to take time to get myself settled into this new routine.  Of course, this always happens to me.  Change always makes me apprehensive.  That doesn't mean that I won't adjust.  I always do.  It just takes time.

It's kind of weird.  I'm still trying to hold onto that "cautiously optimistic attitude" that I've been trying to adopt over the past several weeks.  I don't want to get too excited because I've learned, the hard way, that too much excitement ultimately leads to disappointment.  At the same time, I get pretty tired of being bitter and negative about everything.  I'm in the process of resorting to positive thinking but I'm doing it carefully, slowly.  I do hope that this job will be great but no job is perfect and I have to accept that there will be things that I won't like about it.  That doesn't mean I have to hate the place.  I just have to take what the job gives me and make the best of it.  That's really all I can do.

I'm scared, nervous, excited and anxious.

This could very well be a chance to come back to life.

End of the Line (2007) Review

 The End is Coming...

Karen rides a subway home only to find herself trapped onboard with a group of loonies killing off everyone in the name of God.  It seems the Apocalypse has sprung up and these religious radicals are killing people in order to save their souls before the demons come to take out the wicked.  Isn’t that nice of them?

I’m trying to change things up and watch films without knowing very much about them.  I can’t tell you how much trailers can ruin a film.  It’s an unfortunate fact these days but most movies are crap and they hire these expert trailer makers to take the best parts of a mediocre film, add some snazzy editing and make it look amazing.  This leads to disappointment when you finally see the film.  You get yourself so psyched up over the trailer that the movie can never match your uber-hyped expectations.  Not only that, but since the trailer shows the best parts, you’re essentially stepping into the movie theater and paying for the fluff exposition in between the money shots found in the trailer.  And what about movie trailers from the seventies and eighties!  I can remember watching horror movie trailers before watching the movie just to see what they’d be like and I ended up having the entire movie given to me in those two minutes.  They literally showed main characters being killed and they even sometimes showed the killer or monster being blown up or blasted to bits.  Seriously?  After having a few movies spoiled for me that way, I vowed never to watch a horror movie trailer from the past three decades.  Of course, trailer makers are much better about not spoiling major things like offing major characters or revealing the killer but they still show way too much.  Lastly, and most annoying, sometimes films completely market themselves the wrong way.  The most recent example I can think of was Jennifer’s Body.  The movie marketed it to seem like Megan Fox’s character was the main character but according to my friend (because I never saw it), she’s actually a side character and her mousy friend is the leading lass.  They also made it seem like a smart  horror comedy but my friend said it was mostly a Mean Girls type of movie with a slight horror edge.  I swear there was more but my memory escapes me once again so you can check out some more examples over here.  But, I digress.  The point is, I try to go into a film knowing as little as possible because I’ll have no expectations, won’t have anything ruined for me and I won’t be disappointed if the film turns out differently than expected.

The point of that overly long rant was just to say that I didn’t know much more than the synopsis when I went into the film and I do believed it helped me enjoy it much more.  This film is low budget but it doesn’t really look like it is.  The acting is pretty decent and so is the action.  And I’ll even admit, the first ten or so minutes was pretty suspenseful with the numerous and random “boo” scares that made me and my cat jump (he was watching with me).  Unfortunately, that suspense was dropped as soon as the meat of the film was bitten into.  That tension was replaced with fast paced action as soon as the religious nutcases revealed themselves.  That’s not to say that the action wasn’t pretty good because it was.  Given its low budget, the special effects were used sparingly and that helped the film.  When people were killed, it wasn’t some elaborate evisceration or exploding bodies from a punch to the chest.  The effects were practical, grounded and realistic. 

Characterization was pretty non-existent.  Characters were introduced at random times during the film and I was never sure if they were just set up to be killed off right away or if they were going to be with me throughout the rest of the film.  When I think about it, I suppose it works because these characters start off as strangers, placed in different spots on the subway when all the death goes down.  They are eventually brought together when they escape the subway and try to find an escape route through the murky tunnels.  We have Karen, a nurse of some kind who’s patient has just committed suicide because she believes she’s haunted by the upcoming demons from the Apocalypse.  We have Mike, a random dude who Karen meets on the subway.  We have a young and horny couple, a random buff dude who becomes the reluctant leader of the group, a punk rock Asian chick who barely escapes being raped by one of the religious nuts only to encounter him later again in the movie, two subway workers, and of course, the stars of the film, the crazy killers!  The group, consisting of men and women, young and old, is led by a creepy old lady who begins the slaughter herself by stabbing Mike in the back with a cross-shaped knife.  She receives a notification on her pager, as do the other religious cultists, telling her to “do her duty,” by killing off as many people as possible to save their souls from damnation.  Thus begins the bloodshed and the group of paper-thin characters escaping their subway seats to find safety elsewhere.

Mike survives the attack, although he’s hurt pretty badly.  Throughout the film, other characters either fall victim to the cultists or are revealed to be cult members themselves.  This does help jack up the tension a tiny bit, although it would have been better if the cult members were kept a secret longer.  Most of them are revealed within the first few minutes and they are reluctant members and not double crossing and deceptive about their association.  Although the characters are pretty one dimensional, you pretty much know, based on their stereotypical role, who is going to die and who isn’t, right?  Wrong.  I was actually surprised to see some characters bite it because their type usually makes it through.  Because I didn’t know much about nor care for any of the characters, the fact that I wasn’t worried about their fate was replaced with the fun of guessing who would live and who would die. 

As the film progresses, we learn, via a television broadcast from the reverend leader of the cult, that he was the one who paged everyone to start killing people and reveals that it’s happening everywhere, not just in the area of the subway.  This helps add some spookiness and reinforces that apocalyptic feel.  It’s a little unsettling to see how far reaching religious fanaticism can be.  Another disturbing part was putting the characters in uncomfortable and unthinkable situations, such as encountering two little boys who are members of the cult.  Of course, no one wants to kill a kid but what do you do when that kid is coming at you with a knife in his hand and blood on his brain?  There was also a scene where a man tried to pass as a cult member to escape being killed only to be told to kill his very pregnant wife in order to prove his love to God and his wife.  I don’t want to say what happens because I don’t want to ruin it but those scenes definitely pushed boundaries and I respected the way they were handled because, to me, I felt it came from a place of realism.  The way things unfolded did not feel cheap or exploitive, only shocking in a deep and realistic way.  Bravo to the director for having the balls to go there and for pulling it off with some taste.

Two thing about the end I want to mention.  First of all, the crazy old religious leader lady mentions that she and her group were trying to save as many people as possible before the dead rose up to kill off everyone else.  This got my mind to spinning about the possibilities of what I’d be seeing in a few minutes.  And while the end did showcase what happened to all the people that were killed by the cultists, I didn’t feel the film went far enough with that set up.  Of course, that could have been because of budgetary reasons but I was wanting to see something much more epic than what I got, not to say that what they did do was bad, just not what I expected.  Of course, since they didn’t go in the direction I was expecting, it definitely gave me some ideas for a story of my own so I’m a little glad it didn’t go down that way!  Finally, the last frame of the film completely turned everything upside down and I loved it.  A lot of people were upset about the vague, and in some people’s opinions, lazy ending.  I like the fact that the ending let you decide what did or did not happen.  Just by that last frame, it added a whole new depth to the film and I appreciated that.

While the movie itself wasn’t scary, except for the first few minutes, the idea behind the movie is terrifying.  While I identify with Christianity, religion scares the crap out of me sometimes.  Or maybe it’s not religion itself but religious fanatics that scare me.  Sometimes people use religion to mask their sheer insanity.  Do something crazy and then blame it on God.  Who can argue with orders from God?  When God tells you to do something, you do it.  I really like the fact that he film tapped into that whole religious craziness that some people get caught up in.  I also like the fact that the film explored both options of maybe this really was the end of the world brought on by God or maybe it was just a bunch of crazy people using God as an excuse to kill.  The film never gave a definitive answer, thanks to that genius ending, and I appreciated the fact that not one agenda wasn’t pushed.  Some may claim that was wussing out but I don’t think so.  Who has the right to say that these people were just crazy and who’s to say that they weren’t?  All in all, the film was pretty good and brings up some really good topics to ponder.  Also, the director, Maurice Devereaux, directed another cool flick that I saw several months ago called Slashers.  I’m definitely going to be looking out for more of this guy’s films and you should, too!

3.5 out of 5.

Phase 2 Friday: Cautious Crapper

To try to help Phase 2 get a little more traffic and expose them to more people, I'm gonna post a link to my article.  This week I wrote about my thoughts on blogging!  Check it out here!  Thanks so much!

Job Jitters

I start my job on Thursday and I'm really excited and of course, nervous.  First of all, I'm eager to find out what the heck I'll be doing!  Since it's such a new business, everyone is running around trying to get everything ready for the opening day in December and maybe all the details haven't been worked out yet.  I was told the job would be easy, just greeting people and cleaning up after them.  I was also told I'd be getting tips by one guy.  Of course, he kind of acted like he didn't know what was going on so I'm not sure if I will but I hope I do!  Wouldn't it be great if I could use my tips for gas or grocery money without having to dip into my paycheck?  Not only would that help me get my own apartment but it would help me gain access to all my animation resources so I could start working on art again soon.  Every time I watch Family Guy, I'm inspired to animate again.  As frustrating as it was, I really do miss it and I really feel like I can do some great things if given enough time to practice.

I think about the orientation and the uniforms I'll be given.  I think about my coworkers.  What are they going to be like?  Are they going to be young or old?  In some ways, I think it would be cool if they were older people because I've always gotten along with people older than me.  Then again, if there was a cute young girl that worked with me, well, I wouldn't hate that!

The first day is only going to be four hours but the day after is going to be a full eight hour day and they'll even serve lunch on that day.  This makes me a bit nervous because everyone is going to be having their lunch there and what if it's like this cafeteria setting and everyone starts grouping together?  What am I going to do?  I certainly don't want to sit by myself like a loser but I don't know how to squeeze into a clique.  I feel it would be awkward if I just went up to a bunch of strangers and was like, "Heeey, can I sit with you guys?"  Seems kind of lame.

It's pretty sad that I'm almost twenty-four and I have little to no social skills.

Maybe I'll be lucky and the person that I sit next to/the person that sits next to me/the person that I'm seated with will be cool enough to strike up a conversation and that'll be the person I can sit with.

It doesn't help that I'm a fatty.  Every time I gain a lot of weight, my already limited confidence takes a dramatic fall to the floor.  If I don't look good, I don't feel good and I end up drawing myself inward.  I become quiet and come off as being really shy and/or boring.  If only I would have taken this summer to really get into shape.  Maybe I'd have more confidence so that on Thursday I could make friends with everyone and not be that emo guy sitting by himself in the corner.

Of course, I'm just being silly.  Hopefully everything will be fantastic!  This is the first time in a long time that I've felt positive and hopeful about something so I'm going to try not to let myself ruin it with all of my fears and inadequacies.

I'm getting everything prepared tomorrow and then leaving bright and early at 5:00am to get there on time!  Whooo, it's going to be a long drive to and from the place but it will be so worth it.  I just know it will!

Bad Romance: The Follow-Up

I got enough of a response from my last entry that I feel I should write my own response. 

I have a second online blog I keep that gets more replies than this one and I got quite a few responses to my last entry.  A lot of people thought I was being cynical in both my "Bad Romance" entries.  A lot of people thought I was love bashing and I was even called "bitter, preachy and judgmental" by one noter.

I'd just like to clarify that I was not bashing love.  The first "Bad Romance" was me saying that it is okay to be single.  People get absolutely freaked out at the idea of being without someone and it shouldn't be like that.  Yes, being in a relationship is wonderful.  It feels good to be with someone, to be close to another person, to be intimate.  It's comforting, safe.  I'll never deny that and I'll never say that no one wants that.  If you're with someone, no matter the reasoning, that's fine.  I'm not hatin' on you or encouraging you to break up.  But it's also fine to be by yourself.  That's all I was saying.

And in "Bad Romance II", I was just trying to examine love from a logical standpoint.  So many people get caught up in the foreplay and fluff that they forget that love takes work.  I don't know if love should be super easy or if love should be super hard but I do know that it does take some effort.  Once again, I'm not saying that people shoudln't be in love and shouldn't be in relationships.  Love is a beautiful thing.  It's the best thing there is and I hope that everyone can find love one day.  I'm just trying to get people to find a better, truer, purer kind of love.  Does that make sense?  I've just seen so many of my former friends go from one meaningless relationship to another without thinking about what they were doing and I just don't want others to go through that.

I wasn't intentionally being pessimistic, just realistic.

As I mentioned, I could very much be wrong about my ideas of love (as many of you have pointed out) and part of that could be my age and another part could be my inexperience.  I think we all have our own idea of true love and I think we all find it at different points in our lives.  And my ideas might not mesh with yours and that's okay.  I respect everyone's opinions on the matter but I just don't want people to think that I was being overtly negative.  And I don't want people to think that I'm poo-pooing their current relationships because I'm not.  I wish you the best of luck.

As far as the above noter's terse and mean-spirited labeling of me, I'd like to say that I don't think I was being preachy.  I have a certain writing style and maybe sometimes it's rough around the edges or rather sarcastic but I wouldn't necessarily classify it as preachy and if it is, I apologize.  It's never been my intention to shove my ideas down anyone else's throat.  Who am I to tell you what to believe?  I don't have that right and I hope I never made anyone feel that way.  But bitter?  I sure am bitter!  I won't deny it.  Long time readers will recall how full of love I used to be.  I was a romantic at one point, believe it or not.  Throughout the years, things changed drastically and maybe I'm still holding on to some of that hurt but that just gives my writing a personal touch.  I still think the things I said could be applied by anyone, bitter or not.  And judgmental?  Well, who isn't?  Moot point.

Of course, I'd love it if everyone agreed with me but that's obviously not always going to happen and this is such a case and that's okay.  It's always been my goal to at least get people thinking, to open people's minds so if you did or did not agree with the things I said in my last few entries, I hope I at least got you to thinking about why you agree or disagree with me.  If I can make you see things from a new perspective, if I can get you to think and maybe open up your head a little bit, then I've done what I set out to do.

Just to reiterate, really all I'm trying to say is that love is a beautiful thing as long as you use your head and heart simultaneously.  Also, if you aren't in a relationship, it's okay!  Take the time to improve upon yourself so that when you are in a relationship, it will be more fulfilling because you will know who you are and what you want.  Does that clear things up?  If anything, I was trying to be positive.

Or have I just become such a curmudgeon that I don't realize when I'm being bitter?

I have a little assignment for you, if you choose to accept it.  Respond to my "Bad Romance" entries with what you agreed or disagreed about what I wrote.  Or if you don't want to include me at all, just write about what love means to you.  How do you define love and what do you believe it takes to be in a healthy, successful relationship?  As much as I try to open others' eyes, I always try to keep an open mind myself.  I'd love to read what you have to say and maybe my perspectives might change.  If you do this, obviously let me know so that I can read it and we can have a discussion.

Let's talk about love.

Bad Romance II

I went out Friday night with an acquaintance of mine.  It was the usual coffee and conversation.  What I really liked about it was how refreshing the conversation was.  I barely speak to anyone anymore and conversations are few and far between for me these days and it felt good to talk to someone.  Even more than that, it felt good to have an intellectual conversation.  She was telling me about a friend of hers who ended a six year relationship two months ago.  Afterward, she met a guy, they dated for a month, and several days ago they got engaged.  It's like love in warp speed, no?  She thought it was ridiculous and I agreed with her.  She reasoned that this girl had been with her boyfriend of six years, ever since she was fifteen, and she didn't know how to be without someone so when this guy proposed to her, she thought it was comforting because that's pretty much all she's ever known of love.  I congratulated her on her insights because I was thinking the same thing.  Our discussion segued into me bringing up my "Bad Romance" entry that I wrote a few days ago.  She agreed with what I was saying and that was reassuring.  She even added, "Single is not a disease!"  Preach it, sister.

It felt good to know that a regular human can understand things the way I do.  Just like myself, she has never been in a relationship but she has to offer counseling to her friends who seem trapped in doomed romances.  While sipping our spiced apple chai teas and white chocolate mochas, I made an observation that, although we've never been involved with anyone romantically, we seem to know way more about relationships than those who have years of experience.  Funny how that happens.

We basically spent the entirety of our time together elaborating on the things I discussed in my blog.  It felt great to have a back and forth about the topic, to be given ideas to work off of and to provide the same for her.  It was nice to actually discuss with someone the things I write about instead of just sending it out into cyberspace and that being the end of it.  She's a smart girl and I admire her for having the intelligence to realize that her being single is not a punishment or a deformity.  We used to be in the same position, wishing God would send someone along for us to love but we've moved past that point and we are better for it.  We now spend our days trying to love ourselves instead of a ghost.  I think that's much more productive and is the easier path to peace.

Maybe because I've never been entangled in love, I can sit back and investigate it with an objective eye.  The fact that my heart has never blinded by my brain has allowed me to use my head when it comes to my heart.  I am logical, clinical.  And yes, maybe sometimes I'm a bit cold but at least it provides a better understanding.

Throughout my observations, I've realized:

Love is not perfect.  Love is not a fairytale and love will not solve sadness.  I used to be one of these hopeless romantics that fell in love with the way love was portrayed on television and in books.  You know, the whole "love cures all" thing, the whole "love changes everything," the whole "happily ever after" thing.  It's just not true and I hate to burst everyone's bubble but the sooner you realize that, the sooner you can get over those naive notions and start looking at love in a realistic way.  Love is complicated and messy and never cut and dry.  Now, I'm not saying that love isn't the best thing in the world because it is but love alone is never enough.

You cannot change people.  And girls, you cannot "fix" guys.  You can love someone with all of your heart but that will not alter their behavior or make them see the light.  They have to be open, receptive to that love for them to change and you cannot make anyone be open unless they want to be.  Yes, love is transformative and love can change people but only if they are willing and you cannot make anyone willing.  People are too stubborn and set in their ways for an outside influence to divert them from their norm.  Change starts from within themselves, not from you.

Love is a dance, a negotiation, a collaboration.  All parties involved have to work together toward that common goal of satisfaction.  Love hurts but I don't think it is supposed to.  Aren't there so many other things in the world that hurt?  Love is supposed to fix the hurt and yes it does if everyone does their part.  Love is the end of an equation that makes up the addition of partner one and partner two.  Love hurts because you love someone who doesn't love you back.  Love hurts because you aren't being treated with the respect you deserve.  Love hurts because you are being used or maybe you're the one doing the using and you aren't as fulfilled as you think you should be.  Love hurts because it's really  not love at all.  That's loneliness, that's desperation, that's impossible expectations that drew you to the relationship or is keeping you in the relationship.

And most of all, love is more than a feeling.  Love is comprised of passion, loyalty, trust, friendship, selflessness, and most importantly, choice.  Love isn't going to make him pick up his dirty clothes off of the floor or stop her from nitpicking over her appearance.  Love isn't going to make him share his feelings (until he's ready) and it isn't going to stop her from being clingy (until she decides to stop).  You have to accept that the other person is not perfect and you are not perfect and that two unperfect people are coming together.  You have to realize that this will cause friction and you have to choose to be with that person anyway, not to overlook their flaws but to be able to handle them and support them.  There's nothing wrong with encouraging people to improve and open the door for change but just don't expect that it will happen.

The idea of other people completing each other is all nice and good and romantic but I think it's kind of crap.  I think we all have the capability of being self-sufficient.  Love shouldn't be about completing, but complimenting.  To me, completion suggests perfection which only sets up an impossible expectation.  Partners are not like puzzle pieces.  You will never find anyone shaped perfectly to fit your vacancy.  But you will find people that you can be compatible with, which is where the whole choice thing comes in again.  I can't say if there is just one person in our lives that we are meant to be with because that goes back into the dreamy fairytale thing.  It's more likely that there are a wide variety of people that we could spend the rest of our lives with but we just have to make the right choice.

Obviously, I don't know much about love.  I've never been in love.  I've never been in a relationship so maybe I'm completely wrong but I do feel like I'm on to something.  I feel like I'm getting closer to finding out what love means to me.  I know I'll never stop learning but I keep making progress every day.  And maybe I've been able to do that because I am not so tangled up in someone else that I have the time, energy and resources to contemplate something of such magnitude.  I just wish other people would slow down and do the same thing.  When one relationship ends, instead of jumping into the arms of someone else, maybe people should take the time to reflect on the relationship, find out why it didn't work and what they can do the next time around to make things better.  But people are too afraid to be alone, too scared of the pain of heartbreak that they have to find someone else to cover up that hurt before it has time to absorb.  People don't want to think anymore.  It's simply too hard.  But for me, what I find harder to deal with is the idea of trapping myself in dead end relationships with girl after girl and never knowing what I wanted or needed, just keeping someone around to fill my holes.  Love sure isn't easy but is it really as difficult as people make it seem or are we simply confusing ourselves?