Karma Chameleon II

It’s not that I wish misfortune on anyone.  It just makes me feel better when it happens.

I tend to focus on the negative when it comes to myself.  That’s nothing new.  What you might not know is that I also tend to focus on the positive things in everyone else’s lives.  I always see how much better other people have it in relation to my own circumstances.  If only I could be rich or thin like them.  It doesn’t matter that their parents were abusive or that they might have a drug problem.  Nah, I don’t think about that as much.  And it’s weird because I should focus on the positives in my life but I guess I just take the positives for granted, as if they will always be there.  I’m not naive, I know they won’t be but I see them as my safety, my security blanket at all times and to imagine those positive aspects missing would be like imagining I had no forehead.  It’s just there and will always be.  Except, it won’t.  But I don’t think like that.

And when I see something not so good happen to someone who usually succeeds at everything, I admit that I do feel a small rush.  And it’s not so much that I feel good that someone else is hurting, just that life is balancing things out.  It’s nothing personal.  It’s simply universal.

I feel that human beings have this innate sense of right and wrong, of balance, of justice.  I could be wrong but I think, deep down, we all kind of have this moral compass.  Whether we allow ourselves to be guided by the compass remains up to us.  But it's there, willing to lead us.  It’s not that we expect our lives to work out wonderfully, and if we do, we are corrected pronto.  But, we do feel like there should be some sense of right and wrong, good and bad.  Things get a little messed up when things don’t go that way.  Naturally, if things are going great for us, we won’t speak up and wonder why.  We take it and love it.  To speak out against such blessings would be like that annoying kid in middle school who would pipe up and remind the teacher that they forgot to take up the homework from the night before that no one did.  I always hated that kid.  When things are consistently bad, however, we’ll definitely chime in and wonder what’s up. 

And I think we all have this sense of justice because justice is balance.  If someone does something wrong, they are punished.  They did something bad and now something bad happens to them to balance things out.  And that balance doesn’t even have to apply to someone who does something good or bad.  This balance could be applied to someone who was born rich or someone who never gains weight.  Someone who’s really smart might be ugly and someone who’s very successful might have a receding hairline.  And we all need that kind of balance because it helps us to move on.  Balance keeps us moving.  If there was no balance in life, bad to even out the good, good to cancel out the bad, there would be no reason to live.  If we knew that life was just always going to be good to certain individuals and always bad for others, then what kind of hope do the unfortunate have?  If you were to know that your life would never get any better, if you were destined to be depressed, would you bother getting out of bed every day knowing that no matter how hard you tried, you’d never make it?  I know I’d probably just off myself right then.  And I think that’s why we all feel like there should be balance in the world because if we didn’t have that feeling ingrained in us, half the population would be omitted due to suicide.

I know this guy.  He has a life I would like.  He makes good money and lives in a bigger city with more opportunity and culture and he has had many people who have loved him.  But, he was born into a bad family life.  His father left his mother when he was a child.  His mother then went through a phase of bringing home bad men and basically ignored her children so she could recapture her youth.  His sister became addicted to drugs.  But, he’s fine now.  Things were bad for him when he was young but now that he's an adult, he’s doing okay for himself.  And I guess that might be his balance.  Maybe he looks at me and wishes he had the good home life I did.  But, I'm also fat.  There’s my balance. 

I think this is why people believe in God and karma.  God will grant us access to heaven if we are good people and karma will come back to haunt those who are naughty.  And the beauty of these concepts is that we may never witness this justice, this balance, while we are on this earth.  It might take crossing over to finally get the good that we “deserve.”  This kind of faith also keeps people going, even under the most dire circumstances.  If someone ever gets to the point where he or she realizes that life will never get better, that person can look to the afterlife for happiness.  Simultaneously, it's frustrating when people aren't punished for their bad deeds, at least not in this life.  People who kill others and get away with it might go to hell but the friends and families of the victim will never know this.  And people who have wronged you might do their damage and then leave your life and move on and become successful.  Or maybe they'll become destitute.  You'll never know, you'll never have your sense of balance because it might not come any time soon.  And I suppose that's where faith kicks in.  You have to have faith that your God will punish the wicked and reward the good.  And the more I think about it, the more I think some people use God and karma to soothe themselves, to make themselves feel better about certain situations.  I almost feel like God and karma are more like concepts that people cling to to give themselves hope that something better will come along someday.  Because, if not, what's the alternative?

I think this sense of balance is why many people are so obsessed with celebrity scandal.  As previously mentioned, it's not so much that anyone personally wishes anything bad to happen to someone famous.  It's just the fact that when someone is more rich and recognized and powerful than they will ever be and they finally flop in some kind of way, that's the balance taking effect.  People feel better because they see that money and power can't get rid of every problem.  It grounds celebrities and makes common people feel better.   

It's also kind of funny how limited the faith in the concept of balance can be.  At least for me.  As of right now, I have pretty much given up any kind of hope for a good life.  I know that's very groan-inducing but I can't help how I feel, ya know.  It's been a slow transition but now it's finally sinking in that I'll probably never be anything more than struggling white trash.  I've worked so hard all of my life to do the right things i hopes that all of my goodwill would be rewarded but it hasn't and I don't think it ever will be.  The funny thing is I could win the lottery tomorrow or fall in love a year from now.  But, I can't see past my own misery.  I don't have that faith anymore.  I don't have that hope that God will intervene or karma will kick in.  It's kind of sad to give up on life at an age when life should just start beginning but I have just been beaten down enough, buried underneath so much emotional catastrophe that I can't see the light anymore.

For me, I don't believe in karma.  I don't believe that good people will always be rewarded and I don't believe that bad people will always be punished.  I see it as one big random spin of the wheel.  I've seen bad people succeed and good people suffer.  Good things happen to random people, whether they are good or bad.  Bad things happen to random people, whether they are good or bad.  This is a very dangerous idea to be toying with because it basically grants me permission to be a prick.  I mean, I'm not going to be but I could if I wanted.  If goodness doesn't matter then why should I spare anyone's feelings?  Why should I go out of my way to care when no one cares for me?  Obviously, because it's the right thing to do.  I don't want to be one of those people who are just nasty to be nasty, who goes out of his way to be mean just because life didn't treat him kindly.  No, my inner a-hole would only be brought out when prompted.  It's a side of myself that I've always kept well hidden because it wasn't appropriate to act that way, especially in fear of being galactically steamrolled because of my bad behavior.  Then again, I probably would be anyway.  With my poor circumstances, everyone else in the world could be terrible and get away with it but as soon as I flipped off someone or so much as uttered a swear word I would just be making things worse for myself.  Bad enough things happen to me when I try to be good so I don't want to risk taking on any more tribulations.

Maybe the most maddening part is that there is no balance.  Life is chaos.  Justice is imperfect.  Karma doesn't always catch the right guy.  And God works in His own mysterious ways.  So, what is left for us to do but pick up and continue.  But how?  I know that sitting around and waiting for balance is about as likely as waiting around for someone to fall in love with you.  Maybe you have to find your own balance.  The next step is to find out how to do that.  And I haven't quite made it that far yet.

Settlement

Every time I come back from an extended period away, my mother has this obnoxious idea to redo my room.  She rearranges my dresser, puts things in the wrong place or packs up stuff in storage that shouldn't have been put away.  Last night, I spent an hour looking for my Xbox controller so I could watch my Netflix.  You know, when you come home, you expect to find comfort in the familiarity, to reacquaint yourself with that long-held fellowship with the furniture but not for me.  It's like I'm not coming home at all.  That comfort that should be there is absent. 

I cried off and on for the three hour trip back home.

I have a pretty embarrassing habit of talking to myself all day every day.  And when I take long car rides by myself, I talk to myself the entire time.  Either that or I sing with so much passion that the lump in my throat starts hurting.  Long car rides are when I do some good thinking and figuring out of things.  Not this time.  With everything swirling in my head, I just stayed silent.  What's the point of speaking when nothing goes right?  Why continue to plan out loud when all plans do are shatter? 

So, I just wept through three major cities.

I mean, it's not easy to find a job in a week.  I would have stayed longer but, you know, my sister is a prick-a-dillo.  I'm just going to "hope" that one of the jobs call some time this week, at which time I will travel back to my sister's place of residence for an interview.  From there, I might or might not stick around to find out if I got the job.  I suppose I'll just have to take it as it comes.

I've realized that this house is not my own anymore.  I don't like it here.  I hate to say that because I have no reason to be unhappy with my living situation but my folks really make me want to commit parenticide.  As soon as I got home, Mom started in on the nagging.  I know they say that moms do that but she has perfected the art of pestering.  And with the stress and frustration and disappointment of my sister and no luck with the job and realizing I was starting back at square one, I was already fragile and I didn't need her going on about how dirty my room was or how much money I spent in the city.  I think it's a combination of me staying here too long and Mom's ever increasing badgering that makes me want to explode at the sight of her.  I think most young adults can handle their parents as they grow up because they move out and only have to deal with them in small doses.  As for me, it's a daily struggle not to enjoy a bottle of Tylenol PM.

And Shannon's house is obviously no place for me.  So, where do I belong?  Where is home?

I'm afraid home is nowhere.

It's so weird transitioning from one way of being to another.  Being at my sister's place for only a week caused me to become accustomed to that way of living.  Coming back home was jarring.  It'll take a while to get back into a routine of regularly writing and reading again.  I'm already behind on my goal of reading two books a month.  I'm too distracted to get into anything other than my own life.  But isn't that the beauty of reading, to escape your life for a few pages?

And speaking of books, I haven't even hammered through a fraction of my college memoir and I already have several more planned.  I want to compile essays I've written from 2004 up until now and put those in a book, as well as write a book about my weight struggles and if I can ever find any resolution to my death, writing a book about my post-college cadaver status might be interesting.  I'd also like to write a book of poetry and an anthology of zombie stories.  At this rate, all of these books will be finished by 2050.  I'm just putting that out there so you can start saving up.  I think that's a fair enough notice.  Skip the Starbucks and purchase a piece of Brannon.  He keeps you regular, after all. 

He's way better for you than caffeine.

Hot Hot Hate

that boy is talented but troubled
his voice is as strong as it is muffled
the temperature never falls below a tantrum
a childhood innocence held for ransom
he scribbles on paper sheets
to kill the pain and release the heat
but the rage boils over anyway
day after day after day
the heart will twist and turn
this life will always burn
a world turned to trash
an existence reduced to ash

From Afar

I'm going to have to restrain myself.

If I start typing too much and too fast, this will end up way too long and because I'm hanging out in McDonald's using their WiFi like a loser, I'll try to be as brief as possible.  I feel like people are staring at me.  Since my sister doesn't have wireless so I've been going around to the local McDonald's to check my Facebook and such.  I haven't been going in because I wasn't sure if they had outlets you could use because my computer's battery doesn't last longer than fifteen minutes, even after a full charge.  So, like a dork, I've been sitting in my car using their wifi until my fifteen minutes were up.  Today, I was brave and went and and saw that they had outlets so now, here I am, enjoying my Internet for longer than fifteen minutes.  I just wonder how long is appropriate.  I bought some fries and a sweet tea so it's not like I just crashed the joint and am using their stuff without buying something first.  Well, it's AT&T who's providing the service anyway so I don't see why they should even care.  Gosh, those fries were good.

Basically, my sister is a Cuntasaurous Rex and never wanted me to come.  She's been acting like I'm this rodent that's invaded her house.  She told Mom that I shouldn't come thirty minutes after I left to visit her.  She explained to Mom that it was a bad time yet couldn't provide a legitimate excuse as to why it was a bad time.  She's just hateful, that's all it is.  We've never been that close because of our age gap but I've never done anything to her to make her treat me this way.  In fact, up until about a year or so ago, I looked up to her big time.  She was my big sister and I always admired how "cool" I thought she was.  She's the reason why I got into art.  Then, I started realizing that she was kind of a cold, negative person based on the way she complained about everything. But, I do too so I didn't think much of it.  And then this incident happened and now I'm pretty much done with her.  I know, I know.  That's terrible, Brannon.  Eh, I don't care.  I'm a terrible person so it works out.  Really, it won't be a big loss because we've never been that close and she's never tried to get to know me as a friend or at least given me any respect as an adult.  She's always seen me as a pest and I'm tired of trying to impress her and make her like me.  And now I just don't like her.

The job hunt isn't going great.  I had one interview out of fifteen-twenty applications.  Obviously, it'll take a while before anyone calls back.  Usually about a week or so.  Yet, each day that goes by and no one calls is another day closer to defeat.  I really hope I get that job.  It pays decently and depending on what shift I get, I might even be able to do some reading or writing while at work to pass the time!  I hear about people with those kinds of jobs all the time and I get really jealous.  So, to be able to have one of those kinds of jobs would be pretty awesome.  Out of all the jobs I've applied for, dream jobs, plausible jobs and downright terrible jobs, this one is a plausible one and one I actually wouldn't mind working so I'm hoping this will work out for me and not turn into yet another disaster.

All I do all day is go from place to place, inquiring as to whether they are hiring, taking applications, filling out applications, handing in applications, applying online and generally freaking out.  And what if I do get a job?  I can't just get an apartment immediately.  But I don't know if Shannon will be able to stand me staying there any longer until I can find a place.  I suppose I'll just sleep in my car or rent a hotel?  I'm obviously exaggerating but probably not by much.  The only reason Shannon would let me stay is so Mom will get off her back but little does she know she's already on Mom's bad side.

I was talking to an acquaintance yesterday and he's in a similar situation that I'm in.  He moved here a month or so back and didn't have a job or a place to stay.  A friend of his gladly let him stay at his apartment until he could get a job and a place.  He's got a job and now he's looking for an apartment and his friend doesn't mind at all.  Yet, my sister, my own blood, doesn't want me at her place.  Pretty messed up.  The acquaintance said he'd let me stay with him if he had a place.  As we were talking, he said he'd even give me his kidney and I was fairly certain he was somewhat serious.  And my sister doesn't even want me anywhere near her kidneys.  I have my own room on the other side of hers and my own bathroom.  I've been eating out every day so as not to use her food or dirty her dishes.  I've been trying all that I can to not be in the way, including the aforementioned being out all day applying for jobs and hijacking McWiFi.

I HAVE THE BEST FAMILY IN THE WORLD.

So, that's pretty much what's been going on.  I'm hoping to hear something from that job by tomorrow and if that doesn't work out, I'm hoping to hear something from one of the other several jobs I applied for.  I'd hate to know that not only does my sister not want me around but no other job does either.  It's kind of sad.

My swet tea is kicking in.  I'd better unload and then get out of here before the Hispanic employees throw me out of here in their native dialect.

Hasta mañana, beyatch.

Untitled (Because it Doesn't Matter)

I am constantly searching for something.

That is a lie.

I am constantly waiting for something.

I cannot be content with my talents.  For me, I am not good unless I am good at something I am not.  I am not good looking but I want to be.  I am not a musician but I want to be.  I am not a writer but I want to be.  I am not an artist but I want to be.

I am not alive but I want to be.

What little I can do I do not cultivate and nurture.  I ignore it in hopes of pursuing ideas beyond my scope of ability.  I set out to conquer and I usual fail, leaving me depressed, deflated and diluted.  I am made up of all of these different parts and I do not want them.  I disapprove, reject and ignore.  I cleave into myself my own crisis.

I am very much a follower.  Weak.  I always have been.

Tomorrow, I'm leaving to stay with my sister for a week or two.  I can't say I'm thrilled as she's not a...uh, people person.  But it's the only way I can stay in a larger city rent-free while looking for work.  And yesterday, I got a text from my former roommate offering me the chance at summer work in Kansas.  It seems like a leap but at least it's a choice.  A choice I wasn't having all these months ago. 

timing timing timing.

Things are always happening at the most inconvenient times.

And today Mom found a couple of local jobs.  Jobs that weren't offered all these months ago before I had a plan.

I would like to think of this trip as another opportunity to start fresh.  That is, of course, if I can find a job and a place to live.  It would be nice as I've screwed up everything again.  College was supposed to be a clean slate but I only managed to muddle everything.  So, I'll try again.  I'll soldier on.

If staying with my sister doesn't work, I'm just going to go around and stay with all my Open Diary favorites and other internet acquaintances.  So, get ready and prepare a couch for me 'cause I'll be coming around to your neighborhood soon.  But, no, really, I think that's a cool concept.  What if someone took a year off to just travel and visit all of their internet friends.  I'm going to pitch that as a reality show.

I've been coasting for a long time, floating in indecisiveness and hurt.  I'm tired and I'm on my last shattered leg.

Moon (2009) Review

The Last Place You'd Ever Expect to Find Yourself

Astronaut Sam Bell is in the last days of his three year contract to live and work on the moon, cultivating resources to send back to Earth.  After being on his own for such a long period, and with no one to talk to but a computer, Sam starts to feel the effects of isolation.  Things get really interesting when Sam has a near fatal accident, awakens in the infirmary and then realizes he's not as alone on the ship as he thought he was.  And when Sam discovers the identity of the new passenger, everything Sam ever believed in is shattered.

I had heard a lot of good things about this movie but I also tried to avoid hearing too much about it.  I'm a firm believer in knowing as little as possible about a movie before going into it, especially trailers that can be too revealing.  Of course, that tactic backfires sometimes when you realize that if you had just watched the trailer, you'd know you were walking into a giant turd of a film.  But, I trusted that this wouldn't be a turd and I was correct!  This is another review in which I don't want to say too much because I don't want to give anything away.  So, I'll just say that this movie, just like Soldier's Girl, had me thinking mucho after the credits rolled.

One of the biggest things that I got from the film is how we can walk around and believe certain things are true when in reality, they might be completely fabricated.  It really makes you think about reality or what reality means to you vs. what it means to me.  Who knows what's real?  I guess it's all about the perception.  Schizophrenics can hear voices that aren't there and see monsters that don't exist and we can write them off as being crazy but what if they have tapped into a different dimension of reality that "normal" people aren't privy to?  Monsters aren't real but trees are and who's to say that's true?  Just because an overwhelming majority of people believe this to be the case doesn't necessarily mean it is if we are all programmed by some larger source to believe it.

Another concept is that of one's will to survive despite devastating odds.  How far are you willing to go to save yourself once your destiny is revealed and you realize you have no destiny?  What is that burning desire to live that's within us, even when we know we have no future, despite logic and reason?  There's just so much that I think can be pulled from the film, many layers of meaning and I love that.

Finally, props go to Sam Rockwell, who plays Sam Bell.  You see many sides of him throughout the film and he manages to separate himself into different identities while still being the same person, if that makes any sense.  And because he is virtually the only character in the film, the fact that he held my focus the whole time is a good sign of his acting ability.  I sympathized with him and rooted for him the entire time.  Good actor, good character.

See this film and after you do, please come back and let me know what you thought!

4 out of 5.

Soldier's Girl (2003) Review

She Was The Only Man He Ever Loved

This film tells the true story of a young soldier that falls in love with a transgendered woman and the deadly consequences of their relationship.

Barry Winchell is the new kid in the military and is assigned a room with a seasoned soldier, Justin Fisher.  Fisher convinces Winchell to attend a nightclub where drag queens and transgendered women perform.  Barry is drawn to one of the performers, Calpernia Addams, and soon begins pursuing her.  She's hesitant to allow the relationship to progress because Barry is a "normal straight boy" and she doesn't want to be hurt when he realizes what he's gotten himself into.  As the story continues, Fisher becomes more and more unstable as his relationship with Barry deteriorates.  Simultaneously, Barry and Calpernia become lovers.  Soon, a  young man named Calvin Glover joins Barry and Fisher's troop and it's apparent this guy is off his rocker just as much as Fisher is.  Fisher takes this troubled youth under his wing and instigates an ongoing unease between the young man and Barry.  Eventually, the tension escalates and ends in tragedy.

This film kept me thinking long after the credits rolled and I love that in a film.  While listening to the commentary by the filmmakers, they said they intended to create an incredibly complex love story.  They succeeded beautifully.  In fact, the story was so complex that I don't even know where to start analyzing this movie.  Actually, I don't think I will analyze it.  I just want to bring this film to people's attention and then let it speak for itself.

All I will say is that I hope the film opens up people's minds to the concept of gender and sexuality.  While watching the film, I didn't see a gay couple.  I didn't see a man fall in love with another man or a man fall in love with a woman who used to be a man.  I saw two people fall in love with each other.  The gender soon became irrelevant as I grew to know these two human beings as individuals and as a couple.

Let me also mention the amazing actors.  Troy Garity was great as Barry Winchell.  I think he handled Barry's intricate sexuality beautifully with a mix of sincerity and grace.  And Lee Pace was absolutely astounding as Calpernia Addams.  First of all, I saw him a few weeks prior in the thriller Possession (starring the always delicious Sarah Michelle Gellar, which was the only reason why I saw that clunker in the first place) and in the film, he played a pretty bad dude.  Muscular, macho and mean.  And to then see him as a woman was a complete transformation and a testament to his skill as an actor.  He sounded like a women.  He moved like a woman.  And it wasn't an over exaggerated caricature of a woman, either.  It was natural.  And as the film progressed, I forgot he was a man at all.  Once again, it just went back to being about two people.

My favorite scene is when Barry and Calpernia are in a row boat in a pond.  Barry asks Calpernia to sing to him and she does as he rows the boat.  That moment was sweet, touching.  And it just goes to show that we all want that.  No matter who we are or who we love, we all want someone there with us to share those kind of peaceful, tender moments.  We all want to love and be loved.  And what's so wrong with that?  

See this film.  It was powerful, emotional and enlightening.

4 out of 5.

My Childhood Smells Like Slim-Fast

You want to know a guaranteed way to gain a lot of weight really quickly?  Binge eat and then justify it by saying you will do much better the next day.  But, the next day comes and you don’t do better.  Rinse and repeat for an entire week.  Then, try to zip up those pants.  If they still fit, continue to binge and promise and binge and promise until you can’t get the denim past your gigantic thighs.

This is how I sabotage myself every time.

Every since I was a child, my weight has fluctuated according to what my schedule was like.  When I was in school, I was fat but I never gained any weight.  Sometimes, I’d even manage to lose a bit.  But, as soon as summer came around, I did nothing but sit at home.  I didn’t go to the beach or play outside like the other kids.  I sat inside and ate and stayed sedentary all summer.  Thus, massive weight gain.  The thing about it was I never realized how much weight I had gained until it was time to return to school.  Because I never went anywhere, I just wore my pajamas all day.  Elastic is fantastic, ya know.  But as soon as I had to put on those jeans or slip on a shirt, I was devastated to learn I couldn’t button my jeans and my chest poked from my shirts like a young girl’s burgeoning breasts.  And then school would start and I’d stop gaining weight because I’d be busy doing something.  If I was in school, I wasn’t eating and I was moving around somewhat.  So, the weight would stay constant.  The same cycle would happen the next summer.  I’d gain the weight, start school, have to buy new jeans, and then my weight would plateau again.  So, over the years my weight steadily increased each year and because it was so slow and steady, I never really played that much attention to it until I found myself reaching for a pair of size forty Levis.  I was ashamed and realized I couldn’t allow myself to get those jeans.  I was not going to be a forty and I was definitely not going to go past a forty.

For about a year, I wore my thirty-eight jeans unbuttoned.  I wasn’t worried about them sliding down because the girth of my thighs held them up securely and I wasn't too worried about any weird looking bulges from the free-flying zip flaps because my belly overhang hid them well.  I was ashamed and knew I had reached a scary new place.  During the summer before my senior year of high school, I made a commitment to lose weight.  And I did.  I dropped about twenty pounds and went from a size should-have-been-forty to a comfortable thirty-six.  And I kept it up because I began working regularly after school and then throughout the summer.  I definitely think keeping busy with work helped me maintain my weight loss and even lose more. 

I was the thinnest I had been in years, wearing a thirty-four that was actually started to feel loose on me and then I went to college and it all changed.  I gained the freshman fifteen plus another ten or so and then when summer would come by, I’d fall into that same cycle of second helpings and sloth.  I basically undid around two years of dieting and exercising and working hard to look good and feel okay about myself.  College was stressful and caused me to turn to food to cope.  Even with all my distractions, I still wanted to eat all the time.  My second and third year of college was much better.  Things began to settle down, I mellowed out and I was able to concentrate on losing weight again.  And I did, for the fiftieth time.  And then I graduated.  Came back home and couldn’t find a job so I fell into that overeating and no movement situation and put all the weight right back on again.

I say that I was oblivious to my weight gain when I was younger.  This is half-true.  I knew I was gaining weight but I think I just put it out of my mind until I finished my lemon squares.  I’d always say I’d do better the next day, allow myself to binge because I knew I would start on my diet later and make up for the massive amounts of food.  Later never came and all the while all those binge sessions accumulated until I had amassed quite a bit of weight.  And even when I would try to diet and exercise, it never lasted more than a month. Not only did I not lose the weight but I had lied to myself, over and over and over again.  And when you lie to yourself, it's just like when someone else lies to you.  You learn not to trust that person after a while.  And I learned not to trust myself. 

Recently, I popped in a new exercise DVD that my mother had purchased for herself (and never used).  I popped it in and started doing the moves and I was instantly transported back to about ten years prior.  I could remember being in that very same spot doing a different exercise program.  I was lighter back then, still fat but not as much as I am now.  As the sweat poured into my eyes, I could hear Mom coming back from the grocery store, hear the crinkling of the brown paper bags, hear the clanking and sloshing of liquid from the cases of Slim-Fast.  I remembered waking up early for school and having nothing but a Slim-Fast bar for breakfast.  I’d sit in bed, last night’s sleep still holding on for dear life in my eyeballs, watching old school Battlestar Galactica on television because it was six in the morning and nothing else was on but news programs and infomercials.  I remember that sickly sweet chocolate smell, the thick, chewy consistency of the bars, the way the shakes coated my mouth and throat in a chalky aftertaste.  I remember the diet pills: Xenadrine, Hydroxycut, green tea pills, carb blockers, appetite suppressants, etc.  I remember the way they smelled so awful and how some of them turned my urine a bright green.  If it was on the shelf, I probably tried it.  All with little to no success.

And as I stood in the living room, lifting my legs and panting, the déjà vu felt very sad to me.  All these years later and I’m in virtually the same position now as I was back then.  Nothing has really changed.  All the struggling and weighing myself and pills and shakes and bars and stupid diets and eating foods with no flavor and starving myself and exercising and crunches and all for what?  I’m still fat.  I’m still miserable and the saddest part is I never had to be.  If only I could have stuck with the dieting and exercising when I was younger.  All of that struggle could have been worth something if I would have just kept with it.  I keep thinking if only I wouldn’t have quit, maybe I’d be thinner and happier now.  I kind of want to slap myself across the face because I just don’t have to be this way but I’ve allowed myself to be and it’s pretty frustrating.  For most of the life that I can remember, I’ve struggled with my weight and with the health of my body and it sucks that this is my plight in life. 

And I don’t know if I have an addiction or an eating disorder or if I’m just plain crazy but I know that this will never go away.  Even if I do get to thin, it will be a struggle to stay that way.  It will always be a walk on a tight rope for me.  I’ll always have to have an intense concentration about everything that I put in my mouth and every step that I take because if I lose focus for a moment, I’ll go spiraling down into a batch of Betty Crocker.

Under

I breathed in deep until I started tingling.  Prickles bloomed outward from my chest into my hands and felt like a slow explosion.  I could feel a halo of sensation around my toes, wrapping around my fingers and moving outward.  My ankles, buttocks and head were present but disconnected.  Everything else was numb.  I closed my eyelids as tight as I could while simultaneously relaxing my eyeballs.  I wondered if I stared off into the darkness of my lids hard enough then maybe I’d be able to see God.  I only saw thick green bars of light spreading across my vision, followed by bursting spheres.

I tried to relax, perhaps meditate or write some mental poetry but all I could do was sing a song over and over in my head.  And I thought how unfortunate it would be to die so swiftly with a stupid song stuck in your head.  How unfair it would be if you were alive and well and were suddenly hit by a bus or shot in the back of the head and your last thoughts were of something insignificant.  Everyone should be allowed to prepare for death, if not to get their final affairs in order and say goodbye to loved ones, at least to think of something more constructive than a catchy jingle.

My teeth were a mess and not easily fixed.

I’m afraid they’ll never be corrected to my satisfaction.

In the dewy morning I had blood drawn to find out what I’m allergic to.  Nose surgery didn’t fix the lump and now the doctor wants to change tactics again.  After deciding it was a different kind of cyst than previously thought, he read an article stating these kinds of afflictions can be effectively treated using allergy medications, thus the blood work.  It’s another avenue of possible treatment but if this doesn’t work, nothing else will.  He said surgery could damage my vocal cords.  I want to be able to sing to the pretty girls.

My throat is a mess and not easily fixed.

I’m afraid it never will be.

I drove around aimlessly for a while.  I bought five new lip balms because buying stupid stuff like that brings me temporary comfort.  Some were too sticky and some were too greasy.  The search for the perfect lip balm is still on. 

Strolling through Barnes & Noble only depresses me.  I looked at the endless row of books and wondered if I’d ever be among them.  I realized there are so many books that I should have already read but I haven’t out of laziness.  My high school English teacher always talked about the correlation between reading classics and being well educated.  I’m not very educated.  Book after book on writing poetry and nonfiction and crafting a story and I wanted to devour them all but I can’t justify spending that kind of money when I don’t have a job and about fifty other books that I’ve bought and haven’t read yet.  There’s still so much I need to learn and this education could help me with my book.  I don’t know what to do.  I want it written now but I want it done right.  There’s a fine line between patience and completion and I often find myself swaying in the direction of impulse.  I just want it done but I’m sure I’d regret the fact that I didn’t spend more time on trying to make it the best it could be.  I just feel like I don’t have much time left.  Who knows how long I’ll be around and wouldn’t it be better to produce something rather than nothing at all?  I want to write poetry and play the guitar and write songs and start painting but there’s some kind of block and I don’t know how to dislodge this depression or whatever it is that’s holding me back.  I see so many talented people doing something with themselves and while I’ve always been confident in my potential, I’ve never been in the talented pool.  I always thought that one day I would be but then life and death got in the way.  And now I’m nothing.

I drove and drove and drove and drove and drove.

Malls always depress me because they are filled with pretty people.  And old people who walk the perimeter of the building.  But mostly pretty people.  And the stores have nice clothes that I can’t wear because I’m too fat.  I think I’d be a pretty great dresser if it wasn’t for my flat butt and big belly.  Another way in which I can’t express myself and I know it’s my fault.  So, I go out and grab a large order of fries saturated in full fat cheese as a way to cope. 

To me, it’s hard to know that this is about as good as I can get.  I don’t know why I’m so wrapped up in image because that’s not the way people should be but I’ve never felt good looking and I just want to be able to feel that I am.  I almost feel like I should give up, like it’s the right thing to do, because of this lump.  It doesn’t matter how I fix my teeth or how much weight I lose.  This goiter is here to stay and it almost feels appropriate.  Of course, I’d have this after all these years of trying not to be ugly.  Yet, the universe deems it to be a reality every single day when I wake up and look in the mirror at a fresh pimple and when my hair thins our more and more and when the lump becomes inflamed and painful.  And the worst part is people have their limbs blown off in war and are born without ears and they are happy despite their deformities.  So, not only am I ugly but I’m pretty much an a-hole.  I know I should be thankful I’m not more mess up than I am and when I think about it, I am thankful.  Lots of people have it a whole lot worse but it’s still hard, though, when you look around and everything is so fake and perfect and you have no self-esteem and no support system to encourage you no matter how you might look.  Maybe the earless people had that kind of support so it’s easier not to be bitter.  Or maybe I’m just angry at myself because I could be so much better than I am but I’ve let myself go in so many ways and I've never done anything about it. 

Godiva chocolate truffles down the hatch. 

It’s the only thing I have to rely on because people aren’t very good at that these days.

You kind of treated my heart like an unwanted child.  You locked it up in a room with nothing but a bucket to crap in.  You just abandoned it.  You just…weren’t there.  And I’m still a mess because of that.

Wouldn’t it be funny if it turned out that I was allergic to my cat?  My mom would sooner throw me out than Moses.  It could work in my favor, though, because I’ve been trying to get out for a while now. 

The thing that is most frustrating is the fact that I’m not completely ignorant to my reasoning for how I feel.  If only I could be oblivious to my sadness.  But, because I’m not, I should be capable of doing something about it.  I don’t know why I can’t.  I can’t find a good enough motivation to fix my flaws because it seems like I'm trying to do the impossible.  And I'm tired of dealing with the impossible.

I am so awkward.  I left my two free nasal spray samples at the ENT and then didn't have my insurance card at the hospital.  I stumbled through the patient registration and couldn't hear the lady as she mumbled through the glass partition.  She probably thought I was stupid.  She is probably right.

I can't feel my lips.

Let's Hug it Out, Dawg

This is (most likely) the last time I'm going to defend my writing.

So, I received a comment on my last post and I have to admit that it got me a little fired up.  To me, this person clearly misunderstood the meaning of what I wrote and took it the wrong way, even going so far as to assume I was against non-religious people and in favor of God hating “fags.”  As much as I tried to be clear in my intentions, it just goes to show that, once again, some people don’t get what I’m saying.  Now, I said some people.  Did you catch that?  I’m not talking about everyone.  Just some. 

First of all, the only reason why I'm responding to this is because I don't want other people thinking that I think this way.  While I'm pretty sure this one person was just completely wrong in his assessment of my post, it’s possible that other people might feel the same way as this person did but don’t want to say anything.  I'm not so much responding to this stranger but to people that might read me regularly and might have misunderstood in the same way this person did.  Maybe you’ve gotten to know me and that post might have thrown you for a loop and now you’re not so sure about me.  Well, because I’d hate to lose readers, let me clarify for the readers who do not comment.

I am not anti-atheism.  As I clearly wrote in my last post, some of the coolest people I know are atheists.  I was hoping by mentioning this, I would convey that I’m not coming from a bad place and that I’m not one of these uppity Christians who can’t handle any other way of thinking besides what comes straight out of the Bible.  I’m not like that at all but I guess I didn’t get that across very well, at least for that one person.  I don’t care if you have a religion or do not have a religion.  As long as you’re a good person and can tell a wicked awesome fart joke, you’re good in my bloody book.  I have never bashed anyone’s beliefs because I don’t want anyone to bash mine.  I have no right to tell anyone how to live because I don’t want others to do that to me and plus, I’m not the ruler of anyone’s life and nor do I think I’m qualified to be one.  I’m just some overweight twenty-something who has very little significance in this world. 

There are two reasons why I’ve never tried to force my opinion on religion:

A) The only religion that I’ve ever really had a problem with was my own!  There’s a ton of corruption in Christianity and frankly, although I don’t know much about other religions, there’s probably corruption in just about every other religion as well.  And that corruption isn’t because of God or Allah or whoever, it’s because of people.  A lot of the Christians I grew up with engaged in underage drinking and premarital sex.  Yet, they had their gin-soaked butts in those pews every Sunday.  And that was about the extent of their Christianity.  While I always kept my mouth shut, I’ve kept my eyes wide open and I saw what they did there.  So, no one need point out the holes in Christianity or the fact that most Christians are hypocrites because I know this.  But, really, that’s kind of a safe accusation considering we are all hypocrites, no matter what our beliefs are.

B) I have my own personal struggles with faith and religion that I have discussed here before.  There are times when I question God’s motives and even His existence and there are times when I feel my “life” doesn’t mesh very well with Christianity.  There are times when I want to just give up on God.  I’ll admit it.  Most Christians might not be so forthcoming with their wavering faith but it’s probably more common than you’d think.  Considering my own wobbly dedication to Christ, I definitely have no business putting down other people’s alliances, or lack thereof.

Despite being a Christian, I’ve had people who are even more Christian than I am try to shove their beliefs down my throat and that’s a hard cross to swallow.  So, in some ways I can understand how some non-religious people feel when it comes to others who try to jackhammer their beliefs into them.  And that is why I try never to do that myself.

The last entry that I wrote was supposed to be sarcastic and abrasive and tongue-in-cheek.  It was not meant to be offensive.  And when you really break it down, the whole point of the post was me making fun of the different types of people who use the very worn out term zombie Jesus.  Think about it.  I talked about how I was more offended at someone’s lame attempt to be funny rather than someone disrespecting Jesus.  As a Christian, you’d expect me to get more riled up over someone slamming my savior but I was more ticked off over bad humor.  I mean, come on.  I hoped that by flipping the situation around I’d create some irony and, hopefully, some comedy.  I guess that fell flat on its face.  I was coming from a place of humor, not hostility.  I’m not some uptight Bible beater.  I can laugh at religion, too.

It just goes back to what I wrote in Babel.  I try to write and I try to explain as I write but no matter how much I try, it’s inevitable that some people won’t get it.  You catch that?  Some people won’t get.  I’m not saying no one understands me.  I believe that some people do.  I don’t know.  Maybe my writing was so dry and subtle that it went right over some people’s heads or maybe it was so bad that the meaning got lost in my corny one-liners.  If I’m guilty of anything, I would say it was bad writing and bad execution.  And the only reason why I’m writing this is because I now feel I have to defend my character.  I have always prided myself in being an open-minded individual, especially coming from such a closed-minded Christian town.  I have never judged anyone based on race, religion, sex or sexual preference because I have seen people who do judge others based on those qualities and I’ve seen people who have been discriminated against because of those qualities.  And I’d never want to hurt anyone for something they cannot help or change.  I do judge people, however, based on their like or dislike for horror movies.  I'm kidding.  That's me trying to be funny again.  And this will blow your mind:  I had a good guy friend in high school who came out as gay to me.  I was the first guy he came out to, and the second person overall, because he knew I wouldn’t reject him.  A few years later, he revealed that he was agnostic.  A Godless homosexual?  That's about as bad as you can get.  And yet we still keep in touch.

I will admit there might have been a slightly soft jab at people who like to piss all over religion by saying intentionally offensive things like zombie Jesus.  Once again, not everyone who uses the term zombie Jesus is trying to be offensive.  In my last post, I briefly went over the three types of people who do.  I will do it again:

A) Those who just think it’s funny.

B) Those who think they are being controversial.

C) Those who just want to be a-holes.

If you come from camps A and/ or B, I don’t have a problem with that.  If you are from camp C, then yeah, I have a problem with that.  And it’s very tricky because I believe in free speech but at the same time I think there are situations when you should just keep your mouth shut.  I think when it comes to tough topics that could offend someone, it should be a judgment call.  If you think people can handle it and you aren’t outright being malicious, then let it fly but when you are saying things to intentionally hurt someone, then that’s not cool.  It's all about having manners and just being polite. 

So yes, this is the last time I’m going to defend my writing and myself because not everyone is going to agree with my opinions and that’s totally fine.  If you understand where I am coming from and you agree with me, then that's great!  If you understand where I am coming from and you disagree with me, then that's okay as well because not everyone thinks the same way.  If you don't understand where I am coming from and disagree with me, then I shouldn't get upset about it because I can only be so clear in what I'm trying to convey.  There are some people you just can't reach.  I'm just going to try to focus on the ones I can.

So, just to be absolutely clear, I do not discriminate against anyone because of what they may or may not believe.  I dislike everyone equally.

Besides, I'd be much more likely to trust an atheist over one of those wacky Scientologists any day!

What, too soon?

Jesus is not a Zombie but You are a Prick

Now, I love Jesus and I love zombies.  But a zombie Jesus?  I think not.

This whole zombie Jesus thing really needs to stop.  Let me just say that I am accepting of all religions and even non-religions.  In fact, some of the coolest people I know are atheist or agnostic and some of the dumbest people I know are Christian.  While I'm tolerant of a wide variety of beliefs, I will not tolerate zombie misconceptions.  Jesus rose from the dead a very much alive human being.  A zombie, on the other hand, is a reanimated corpse.  Corpse as in still dead, for those of you who didn't go to medical school.  There's quite a difference.  I am offended not only on behalf of Jesus, but also George A. Romero.  Pop in a copy of Day of the Dead and get your facts straight.

Next up, this whole zombie Jesus thing is so tired.  Honestly, I hear it every year and it only gets more irritating with age.  I know some people only say it because they think it's funny and sure, maybe it was slightly comical for about a good five seconds.  Other people use that phrase to be "shocking" and "edgy."  Look at me, I'm making fun of Jesus!  I'm so controversial!  You're not controversial.  You're obnoxious.  And then there are the hardcore atheists who have to pee on every religious holiday by throwing in some offense phrase.  Disclaimer: I'm not talking about all atheists so ease up, Desperado.  Just as some Christians are way radical in their beliefs, some atheists are as well.  These are the one that really think they're sticking it to the Christians by being offensive.  Not so much.  You aren't insulting my religion so much as you're insulting my sense of humor.  Honestly, if you're gonna bash my beliefs, please do it in an entertaining and funny way.  Make me laugh and then feel ashamed for doing so.  Don't just sling out the same old used up phrase that's been around ever since Jesus and zombies hit the scene.  How about taking a fresh approach, eh?  Try taking the time you spend not believing in anything and work on your material.

I will admit that I am guilty of using the same tired expressions when it comes to the holidays.  I've been known to spout a "Happy Singles Awareness Day" instead of Valentine's Day and I have spewed the same jive about Christmas being too commercial but now that I have called myself out, I make a vow never to utter those overused and underwhelming phrases.  I would encourage you to do the same.

I make a call to retire the phrase "zombie Jesus" as it's not funny and the novelty wore off years ago.  It's just so cliché. 

And really, when you think about it, if it weren't for Jesus, there'd be no Christmas and you wouldn't get your presents.  Maybe Jesus isn't so bad after all.

In conclusion, if you believe in the true meaning of Easter, then that's cool.  Go about your business and celebrate uninterrupted.  If you don't believe in Jesus, then that's cool, too.  Leave the Christians alone, go about your business, eat a couple of eggs, take some Gas-X  and STFU.

Thank you.