the man who killed me

You know how you always hear about the people who are haunted by those they've murdered?

It doesn't work that way.  It's actually the opposite.

When you wrap the rope around someone's neck, you aren't only tying off their air but tying yourself to them.  Think of a celebrity who has been killed and you'll know their killer.  Think of the store clerk shot by the robber.  Think of the children cut up by their classmate.  The slain become slaves, tethered to their torturers, yanked by the neck and forced to follow the ones in control of the rope.  Your killer will stay with you like a footprint in your soul.

When I died, a piece of him went straight to hell with me.  A voice trapped in my ear, a memory locked in my mind, a touch tucked under my skin, forever bubbling up and seeping through every pore and part of me.  Killing me over and over.  Breaking and mending and shattering and tending.  My eternal punishment.  An inescapable escalation of pain and humility, scarred along my body, navigating the wounds to find an impossible solution.  The bruising, the petechiae, the shattered glass of innocence lodged into my chest and arms.

He did so much harm and still does.  Time has tackled the worst of it but he still manages to come through clearly on certain days.  The rope is slacked, never severed, and I can still feel its pull.  He still manages to sting.  Yet he is untouchable.  I was rendered a ghost of bone but he is the indelible demon, intangible and translucent.  God-like, deaf and unwavering in decision and deed.  Stealing my life while robust in his own.  Ending me over and over, my sinew, soul and spirit crumbling forever under the weight of his hand, his tongue, his indifference.

Sometimes my hell is presented as a two-way mirror.  I sit and watch, locked down and languid, my eyes pried open as he grooms himself for hurting, corrupting the clean, bashing his brethren, seducing saints, all the while enjoying the spoils of the world.  He combs the teeth from his hair, washes the blood from his skin.  He fingers the strings of his guitar, floating up a melody of melancholy, a soundtrack to my suffering.  I see him wag his tongue and smile his small-toothed smile.  Through the glass, I can see what he's done to me, to others.  I can see him.

But he only sees himself.

book notes #2

I wrote 5,538 words yesterday.  It's about twice as much as I've ever written in a day.  I'm pretty proud of myself.  Of course, it did take all day.  I wrote a little bit, watched television, ate, surfed the web, wrote some more, and then repeated the process until falling asleep. 

Because I have been off this weekend, I suppose I haven't been so stressed out and that has allowed me to have a clear mind to write.  That's another reason I hate my job.  It's so mind numbing and all consuming that even when my shift is over, all that residual anger and frustration and fatigue comes home with me and all I want to do is go to sleep, but I don't go to sleep because the faster I go to sleep, the faster I'll be back at work.  I need a bigger buffer zone than that.  But since I'm too tired to write, I just sit around and do nothing productive.  I hate that I'm that way but I can't think of a better solution so I just kind of coast for now.

It seems that I can write until I hit some sort of wall with the story.  I'm kind of trying to let the story tell itself without putting too many restrictions on the direction, therefore the story is going its own way and that often leads to bumps in the road.  Depending on how much energy I have or if I'm thinking clearly, I can overcome those obstacles rather easily or I'll step away from the writing and not come back until a week or two later.  I think the combination of work and hitting one of those rough patches made me hesitant to get back into the swing of things.  In fact, that's why this whole process has taken so long.  I managed to write a little over 50,000 words just in the month of November last year and since then it's taken me 4 months to write a little over 28,000 words.  That's not very good.  I think if only I could have continued at that pace, I'd be done writing and well into editing by now.  I suppose I shouldn't beat myself up about it too much.  It is my first book and I am battling outside factors.  Just the fact that I'm working on this thing almost consistently is a good sign.  I think I'm pretty close to finishing the story and it's taken less than a year.  Way better than the memoir that I've been putting off for years now.

As I said, the story seems to be shaping itself and I like that.  I feel uncomfortable trying to change too much.  It's almost as if maybe my subconscious needs to tell the story a certain way so I'm kind of letting it take the reigns.  I feel like if I get too involved, it might muck it all up and it won't be as good as it would be had I just let it all happen.  Plus, so far I'm pleased with the way things have happened.  I'll be writing and suddenly I'll think, "Hey, this is the point where this needs to happen."  And then it does and it opens up wonderful new avenues for the characters to travel and it all feels very organic and natural and I like it like that..  It's actually kind of fun to see how the story unfolds as I write it instead of having this rigid outline that I have to strictly follow.

I was hoping to be super close to finishing by this weekend.  I was going to write every day this week and try to come close to the conclusion by tonight.  Well, I didn't even start until yesterday so I'm way behind but I think I wrote just about as much in that one day as I would have over the week so it's kind of worked out.  I just hope that today is as productive as yesterday was.

My only real problem now, and this is a minor one, is I have no idea what to name the book.  And that's really weird because I am usually really good at coming up with titles for the stuff I write.  In fact, I'll come up with a title in my head and then base what I write around the title.  I guess I'm a title first kind of guy.  I'm not saying I'm great at titles but I think I am.  I remember my nonfiction writing professor in college didn't like any of my essays' titles.  He said they were too cutesy.  I would agree with him but I like cutesy so it works for me. 

It is bothering me, though.  I'd like to think that maybe something will happen in the story that I can pluck a title from.  I love it when I read a book with a sort of obscure title that you're not sure how it relates to the book but then toward the middle or end of the book the title comes up in a character's dialogue with another or it comes from a memory or an observation and suddenly it all comes together and makes sense. I love that.  I hope I can recreate that. 

This is so lame.  The tentative title is Decay.  I will not be sticking with that if I can help it.  I feel like it's hard to name a zombie book without stepping on the toes of every other zombie book title out there.  Anything to do with rotting or deterioration has pretty much already been taken.  And let's not get started on how many ...of the Dead titles there are.  Plus, there's no zip to my title.  There's nothing to hook the reader into reading it or buying it.  Decay?  Where's the creativity?  It's kind of frustrating because I'm normally so good at coming up with titles but this one is really escaping me.

There's also a part of me that wants to discuss the book but at the same time that would spoil some of the surprises that pop up throughout the story.  I'd also like someone to read a rough draft just to give me pointers but I don't want to ruin anything for anyone.  In a perfect world, the story would be perfect and ready for everyone to read and enjoy without having to point out my (probably numerous) missteps.  But, I really do think I need some outside help.  This is my first book and my first foray into the world of large-scale fiction so I'm probably making a nice mess of things without even realizing it.  Sure, I've written short stories but there's a world of difference between short stories and novels.  I think I'll try to push the story as far as I can until I feel like it's decent enough to show and hopefully whoever reads it will still be entertained, even if they are proofing it for me. 

mile-an-hour mind

You know how driving long distances can make you exhausted?  You're not physically doing much, just working your hands and a leg, but you are so aware of your surroundings, concentrating on road signs and landmarks, that by the end of your trip you can feel mentally mowed down.  I know when I drove the eight hours to and from college, it took me nearly three days to recover.

Well, this is how my mind feels all the time, with or without a speedometer.

I'm always focusing on something, always wrangling my thoughts, fighting the urge to be pulled in one thousand different locations, unfolding my brain like a map to cover so much ground, making notes and scribbling directions so fast and furious that I write holes into the paper as I burn rubber with my regrets, constantly creasing until the paper crumbles.

My job isn't physically demanding but the stress is emotionally overwhelming.  My living conditions are not detrimental to my body but my spirituality is stressing my heart.  I never do anything yet I'm always tired.  I know my parents think I'm lazy, and maybe they are right because I will admit there's a slice of sloth in me, but mostly I'm just exhausted.  That's why I think I'm not artistic anymore.  It seems the older I get, the more disturbed I become.  And the more disturbed I become, the less creative I am.  I'm too preoccupied to push myself as an artist and a writer, preoccupied with everything ranging from garbage that doesn't matter to larger than life issues I cannot control, things that should not take so much of me away from myself, things that I should have let go a long time ago but can't for whatever reason.

My mind is racing at one hundred miles an hour but my life feels stuck in first gear.  And I have to wonder, when will my mind stop wandering?  When will I find a rest stop for my cerebrum?  I need a place where I can relax and release the tension, a space where I can be still and take in the scenery.  When will it end?  Where will it end?  Will I reach my destination?  Will my head eventually just run out of gas as I run myself into the ground or will I crash and burn and finally shift into shambles?

(sk)intact

Those Proactiv commercials really piss me off. 

I've had problems with my skin ever since I was around twelve.  I know this isn't anything new or shocking as most people go through a pockmarked pubescence to some degree or another, but the bad skin wasn't just a side effect of physical maturation.  It lingered.  It was trapped in my clogged pores, presenting itself in clusters of pimples, blackheads and under the skin bumps.

Because of my pimplesplosions, I had to take a crash course in skincare.  I have tried almost every single product you can find at the drugstore and none of them have provided very good results.  Some even made my skin worse (thank you Neutrogena Acne Wash).  On top of the pimples, my skin was dry, irritated and flaky around my mouth while my forehead remained an oil slick.  I naively went in trusting that these products would clear up my skin as they claimed they would.  When it got worse, I realized something was amiss.  So, I tried to go the more natural route.  I tried those home remedies as well, including salt scrubs and egg white facials.  I've put more lemon on my face than you can shake a tart 'n tangy stick at.  While tasty, the results were less than satisfying.  I went online and researched acne and how you should take care of oily skin.  Some said alcohol would dry it up.  Some said alcohol would make it worse.  Some say you should moisturize oily skin.  Some say you should not.  I even researched ingredients and realized a lot of ingredients in drugstore products are cheap and they suck.

And yes, I've even tried Proactiv.  Thrice.  I honestly can't remember the first time I used it.  I just know I returned it.  I don't think it made my acne worse but I don't think it really helped, either.  It was just kind of...there.  I also tried Murad and that stuff didn't work, either.  Even if it did, I remember one of the products in the line smelling horrid and I thought I wouldn't be able to use it even if it did clear up my skin.  I finally had to resort to Accutane to get my acne under control.  Those were the best months of my life, skin-wise.  Not only did my acne completely clear up, it got rid of my blackheads and banished all facial shine.  My skin was finally perfect.

Then, the Accutane messed up my liver and I had to stop taking it before I finished up my round of treatment.  Screw my liver, my skin was glowing.  But, I suppose doctors have to care about that kind of stuff so they took me off it.  Several months later, my skin still looked good.  But, the oil eventually returned and then the blackheads and then the pimples.  I always wonder if I would have finished my treatment if I could have permanently rid myself of the blemishes.  There are days I would kill to get a hold of those controversially effective pills, liver be darned.

Of course, the acne wasn't as severe as it was pre-Accutane.  Just a pimple here or there or even a small cluster of zits.  Nothing too terribly serious but it was enough to bother me.  At one time, my skin had been so horrible and then it cleared up so beautifully and I just hated to see it go back to it's former grossness.  Because of that, I developed a slight obsession with getting my complexion creamy again.  Those brainwashing Proactiv commercials were really playing on my insecurities and I caved and ordered it a second time.  I thought, "Hey, maybe it didn't help because my skin was so severe but now that it's mostly under control, this stuff will take care of the occasional bump."

It didn't.  I returned it again.  So, I started anew and went back to the drugstore.  And back to researching.

It's all hugely annoying, really.  You try to do find products with good ingredients only to run into claims from one company that says a certain ingredient is amazing for the skin while another says it is horrible, such as mineral oil, petroleum, menthol and parabens.  Of course, one company could just be saying someone else's products are horrible just so you'll buy their stuff.  For the longest time, I tried to avoid products that contained ingredients that were thought to be harmful in some way.  Let me tell you, almost every product contained one or more of those harmful ingredients.  That left my selection extremely limited.  Eventually, I got over most of those claims after I decided that certain ingredients probably weren't as bad as once claimed.  I guess you just have to really do your research and find out what you feel comfortable putting on your face.

So, when the drugstore stuff wasn't cutting it, I ventured into high-end skincare, spending exorbitant amounts of money on what ended up being the same crappy ingredients in prettier packaging.  I spent way too much time and money figuring out that high-end products either are just as bland as the stuff you can pick up at the supermarket or my skin really does suck and nothing, no matter how expensive or well formulated, will work for me.  I had to wonder, where did that leave me?  Here I am spending a student loan payment on grooming products when I could splash my face with some soap and water and come out with the same results.  It was stressful, which is funny because stress is correlated to breakouts.  I'm worrying about how to fix my skin and the worrying is just making matters worse.

It seemed no matter what I used, added, omitted or changed, nothing ever made too much of a difference.  Over the years, it seemed like my skin started to clear on its own.  Those small clusters of pimples turned into one or two.  But those one or two were still extremely annoying.  By no means do I have terrible skin, at least not in the eyes of others.  The annoying part is when one zit clears up, another takes it's place somewhere else on my face.  So, while I'm not a pizza face, I am usually sporting some kind of pimple or another at all times.  I'm sure a lot of people can deal with that.  I can't.  So, I continue to search for that one magical ingredient/product/combination of products that will give me that healthy glow I used to possess post-liver damaging medication.

And because of my rabid search for clear skin, I once again caved and bought Proactiv...for a third time.  It's crazy because I know the stuff isn't the miracle it's made itself out to be.  I used it twice with bland results and yet, those commercials are so captivating and positive and it really does make you believe that stuff will make your skin supermodel clear.  It's sad how they take advantage of people's low self-esteem and desperation.  I suppose every time I succumb to those annoyingly persistent commercials, I think to myself, "Well, it sounds good on paper.  Decent ingredients and it's actually cheaper than what I'm using now, so let's give it another shot."  And I did.  And I still don't like it.  I don't hate it.  Let me say that it's not terrible.  But, the first time I used it my skin felt like it was on fire.  That is pretty bad considering I'm all about putting acid on my face (salicylic and glycolic being my favorites), so my skin should be pretty resistant to powerful ingredients.  Not this stuff.  First of all, the scrub in the cleanser is way too rough.  It's supposed to be beads but it feels more like tree bark and chipped up razors.  I can't imagine anyone with bad acne getting any benefit from such a harsh scrub.  If anything, it would probably aggravate any blemishes on the skin.  The toner and lotion aren't that bad, though.  It is drying, however.  Like, really drying.  You have to slowly work your way into that three-step routine.

After two weeks, I realized I wasn't feeling the stuff.  If I can be honest, I really just wanted to try it again just to remember how it smelled and felt on my skin.  I suppose I was having product nostalgia.  One of the big things I have about products is how they smell and how they feel on my skin.  Another reason I don't care for drugstore products is because they smell so strongly.  They might not always smell bad but when you use a facial cleanser that you have on your face for approximately thirty seconds and then you end up smelling it on yourself at the end of the day, that's a problem.  That's why I prefer fragrance-free products, which are extremely rare at the drugstore.

Through years of trial and error, I found a group of products that I feel mostly good about.  They range from high-end to super cheap.  I've tried to put away the notion that expensive means better or that I have to use one single brand of products.  I found out the hard way that no one line of products are perfect.  No matter brand you use, there's usually a clunker or two to be found.  I've realized that I will probably always have problem skin and the best thing I can do is just take care of it using products that I really believe in, stuff that I feel won't exacerbate acne and might actually reverse past pimple damage.

But, I'm now facing a new problem: wrinkles.  Despite my age and the fact that I have oily skin (they say oilier folks wrinkle slower and less than dry people) and the fact that I'm never out in the sun, I'm starting to notice crow's feet and laugh lines.  Just my luck.  Once I control one skin problem, another pops up.  I suppose I'm destined to look haggard.  But, that doesn't mean I won't fight it tooth skin and nails.

I'm going to start saving up for Botox now.

a separation of flesh

I guess three years was a good run...

I keep saying I'm going to go back to eating meat.  But, I just can't bring myself to do it.  I have a concern that my body might have a reaction to flesh for the first time.  You know, it has been three years since I enjoyed my last piece of animal carcass and I am concerned that by re-introducing my stomach to meat, it will be like, "WTF?" and eject that stuff with a heavy dose of diarrhea real quick.  I don't know if that would actually happen and if it's worthy of such a worry but nevertheless, I'm apprehensive.  Therefore, I always say I'll wait until the weekend when I'm off from work so I can eat and take a sudden massive dump if need be without having to worry about crapping on the carpet in front of customers.

"This weekend, I'm going to do it," I say.  Yet, I never do.

I guess it's just because I haven't made peace with eating meat again.  For so long, I was steadfast in my vegetarianism, but it was easier when I was living in Savannah.  I wasn't eating so much crap and had healthier meat alternatives.  Now, things have changed.  It's much harder here.  I'm so fat and unhealthy and miserable.  Yet, I don't want to change.  Well, I do want to change but I don't want to have to eat meat to do it.  I also don't want to have to eat vegetables.  Basically, I want to have my vegan cake and eat it, too.  You know, without it making me fat.  Not gonna happen.

So, I'm going to have to make some compromises.  Try to choke down some spinach along with my salmon.  It will be tough on both fronts but I'll have to push myself out of this pudginess.  I just feel really bad about the whole situation.  I suppose you really realize how much you do (or don't) believe in something when faced with obstacles that hinder your own well-being.  Really, my vegetarianism doesn't have to be as hard as I make it.  Eat more vegetables.  Eat nuts and peanut butter for protein.  Tofu can taste like anything.  But, for me, I hate almost all vegetables and nuts and peanut butter get old after a while and so do Tofurkey sandwiches.  I'm also not crazy about tofu.  Basically, I'm bored with my diet and I'm getting tired of it.  There's hardly any vegetarian friendly choices at restaurants (unless, once again, you like salads and vegetables) and no choices at all at fast food establishments.  The black box closes in again.

If I really felt strong in my convictions I would force myself to eat leafy greens and tomatoes and carrots but the thought makes me sick.  I have tried these foods and I can't deal with them.  I know taste is an immature response to not eating healthy foods but that's my reasoning and that's just how it is.  Instead, I'll be selfish and make it easier on myself an grab a chicken sandwich from a fast food joint and shrimp at a restaurant.  It's just that, I have so many issues with food as it is.  I have an unhealthy relationship with food.  I use food as a comfort, therefore if I'm not eating food that I enjoy, there is no comfort.  And where there is no comfort, there is more agony for me to take on, something that I am not sure I could handle at this point in my life.  It's more complex than that but hopefully you get the gist of it.  It's not as simple as green food is gross.  It's about what kinds of foods are going to help me from going off the deep end.  The other alternative is to just get fat and be gross and lethargic for the rest of my life, all in the name of not supporting the slaughter of animals for human consumption.  Or, I could just eat them and be done with it.  As much as I want to be an animal advocate, when it comes to me and my weight versus animals and their suffering, I'll choose me every time.

And I guess that's the sad part about it.  How can people take me and my animal advocacy seriously when I eat the animals I want to stand up for and give a voice to?  I'll just be another hypocrite.  But, aren't we all to some degree?  It's kind of amazing and frustrating how humans operate sometimes.  Our actions are often contradictory and I think that's a part of the reason why we are so complex- or screwed up- however you want to look at it.  We think one thing, say another and end up doing something else entirely.

One of the nice things about living in the country is the privilege of seeing cows grazing in pastures on my way to and from work.  We even have some that live outside our backyard.  They are really beautiful, peaceful creatures when you watch them just hanging out and eating and lying in the sun.  It always makes me sad to see them and think that one of those calves out there running with their friends or family might one day end up being my dinner.  From playing in a pasture to pâté on my plate.  I shudder at the thought.

Animals are born into agony only to die brutally just so humans can wear their skins for decoration or eat their flesh, all without a second thought to what they once were.  It all seems like such a waste of life to be put down and squashed so easily, so callously.  We take their lives for granted.  No appreciation, just gratification.  It feels like a lot of people don't take the time out to think about where their food comes from or how it came to be that way.  We see the sterilized breaded chicken bits in a bag or even the ground beef, pink and wrapped up and ready to eat with no semblance of what it once looked like and it makes it easier to swallow those hamburgers and to eat those chicken fingers.  As I've stated before, it's not that I'm even entirely opposed to killing animals for food.  I just don't like the way they go about it, causing unnecessary suffering.  I guess I just wish more people took the time out to appreciate the life that was taken so they could be comfortable.

Sometimes I feel silly even writing about these kinds of things.  Some people probably don't give eating meat a second thought and I literally go days and days thinking about it, worrying about it, debating what I should do.  I probably won't write about this much more, either.  I mean, I'm no longer a vegetarian and I've already posted about my journey several times so there's really nothing more to say and no reason to re-hash anything, unless it's to say, "Had a tuna fish sandwich today.  Hate myself.  Thanks for reading."

I'm not going to completely give up vegetarianism.  I'll try to keep my meat consumption limited.  I'm going to try to avoid beef and pork.  I don't guess there's really any reasoning for picking one animal over another except chicken and fish is a bit healthier.  Remember, I decided to start eating meat again for health reasons (but mostly because of my weight).  I want to always keep that in mind.  I didn't just flippantly decided to devour flesh again. 

As I said, things have changed.  Although I'm going back to eating meat, I feel guilty about it.  I probably always will.  After being a vegetarian for so long, it feels natural to have an aversion to meat and skip over eateries that I know don't have anything I can have and passing by various meats in the grocery store and not thinking too hard about it or missing it all that much.  Now, I can have those things.  I am no longer limited in that aspect.  It's almost liberating, although not so much for the animals.

Friday, I ordered a pizza from Mellow Mushroom, the most amazing pizza place I've ever had the pleasure of going to.  I ordered a favorite of mine from my pre-vegetarian days: the Funky Q chicken, consisting of barbecue sauce, cheddar cheese, grilled chicken and Applewood-smoked bacon.  Up until the very second I got on the phone with the lady I ordered it from, I was hesitant.  As I stated earlier, I kept saying I'd do it but I could never bring myself to venture into that territory.  As she asked me what I wanted, I blurted it out and that was that.  There was no going back or changing my order.  I was going to eat meat again after three years.

I brought it home, opened it up and took out a few slices and started eating.  I psyched myself up by just saying I was going to do it.  I wasn't going to think about it or feel guilty or hate myself.  Of course, that would come later, as it always does when I overindulge with pizza or anything other "naughty" food.  The meat part would just be a bonus bout of self-hatred for me to endure.  And I did it.  I ate a few slices and didn't think about it and I was no longer a vegetarian.

It was delicious.

I think that I'll always carry some guilt with me about this.  I'll always feel a bit conflicted.  But, I'm kind of used to it.  I feel conflicted about so many aspects of my life and guilt is something that usually comes along with that because I feel like I never make the right choices.  I'm always messing up something, feeling inadequate and useless.  So, we'll just add one more thing to the pile and hope I don't crack under the weight of it all. 

Finished off the pizza today.  Hate myself.  Thanks for reading.

black box

"How could I write about life when I'd never had a love affair or a baby or even seen anybody die?  A girl I knew had just won a prize for a short story about her adventures among the pygmies in Africa.  How could I compete with that sort of thing?"
-Sylvia Plath, The Bell Jar

I've realized that my life has always been limited in one way or another.  My parents limited my world by never taking me anywhere.  I limited myself socially by never going anywhere.  I sat at home and ate and got fat, which ruined my confidence.  The lack of confidence caused me to run away from people and their judgments.  I don't drink.  I don't smoke.  I don't party.  I don't eat meat.  I don't eat vegetables.  I don't swear (much).  I don't have sex (with others).  I'm from a small town, thus nowhere to go and nothing to do.  I don't have a girlfriend.  I don't have a best friend.  I only have acquaintances and they have already moved on to other locations.  I work a stifling job and am forced to interact with stifling people.  I don't socialize or metabolize.  I simply fill a slot on this earth.

It's the world that grabs me by its mechanical hand and puts me in the shower, puts me in my job, puts me in the seat of my chair, puts me in front of people and forces me to open my mouth and speak.  I don't go willingly.  My will is in my bed.  It's in a good book.  It's in sleep and food and the small part of my brain unaffected by cynicism and disease.  It wriggles its way into the tucked away part that can still fathom hope and what happiness might feel like one day.

I am limited.  My life situation limited me.  My parents/friends/enemies limited me.  I limited myself.   I'm trapped in my own black box and everyone has had a hand in constructing it.  And it's devastating as a writer and as a person to feel so enclosed.

I've joked that I should fall in love and break someone's heart or have my heart broken just to have a story to write.  I say that I should get drunk just to see what it feels like or do something naughty to feel the thrill of breaking rules, engage in behavior that forces the blood to rush faster, the heart to beat faster, the surge of excitement and adrenaline.  I should travel and meet and kiss people and give and take and be a real person.  Or at least emulate a real person.  I'd like to think the benefits would be two-fold:  I'd have personal experience and material for stories.

The great obstacle is actually obtaining that experience.  I've developed a Stockholm Syndrome of sorts from being locked inside this black box.  It's suffocating and soothing all at the same time because I don't know any different.  I know that I don't like it but I also know that I have a fear of what else is out there.  I'm terrified of the outside world.  I'm terrified of the experience because I might not like what I find outside my uncomfortably comfortable box.  I'm terrified that I might not be good enough for the world, that I might not be good enough for the people of the world.  I peer through the cracks of the black box but the world outside is too bright and daunting so I shrink back into the blackness.

I've heard some say "write what you know" and while I am ambivalent toward that sentiment (I've heard pros and cons of writing from knowledge versus having fun and making it up as you go) I can't even follow that advice because I don't know much of anything.  I know about food.  I know about...hm...sleeping.  I know about being lazy and watching television.  And unless I can turn the topic of sloth into a success in both life and the written word, I don't think I'll get very far.

Ah, it's that good old fear, driving me further into the corner of my black box, insisting I stay where I'm miserable yet familiar with the feeling of darkness and hopelessness.  How is it possible to overcome this fear?  How can you take a stand against something that feels as natural as the flesh that wraps around your bones?  How is it possible to shake off a force that has been your only source of constant presence (albeit unwanted) for nearly your entire life?  That is the great question.  I fear the insurmountable answer.

dismantle

I didn't even realize how long I was gone...

I have been numbing myself with sleep and food and television and books.  I have some huge problems in my life and I have simply ignored them in favor of garbage.  Food garbage, television garbage and sleep steeped in bizarre, unsettling dreams.

I hate my job more and more and people more and more and myself more and more.  I honestly don't know how much longer I can do this.

I am trying to tell you that I am horrible and I don't think I've fully convinced anyone.

But, you don't really know me.  You know what you read and you get my side of the story but there is so much rage and hatred inside of me that you would probably puke if you only knew half the truth.

So, from this point on I will dismantle the good guy image I have built up for myself for the majority of my life.  That's not me anymore.  I don't think it was ever me at all.  I am falling away from myself and discovering something darker.

Nothing makes sense anymore:  God and gluttony.  Food and family.  Sex and death.  Flesh and flowers.  Love.  I will take these topics and pick them apart until I am satisfied that I have sufficiently resolved my hesitation and confusion with them and I will hopefully find some semblance of peace with my conclusions.  Or I'll only find more madness.

Either way, I'll be working toward something, which is more than I can say for myself lately.

retail results

I've been freaking out for quite some time over whether or not I should take the promotion at work.  As if my current craziness wasn't exhausting enough, I had to deepen my indecisiveness by pitting the pros and cons up against each other as if my very soul rested upon the results.  I just wasn't sure.  Yes, there seemed like some good aspects to the new position, like more money, less work, more hours.  There were also a few bad things, like more responsibility, answering to the store manager and more hours.  Yeah, I know, more hours should just be a good thing but seeing as how I hate working there, the less hours I have, the better.  Plus, I need to free up as much time as I can so I can "work" on my writing and animating.  And, thinking of the future, having a supervisor position would look good on my resume.  Of course, the more money part was the best part.  Yet, I was still hesitant.

As far as I knew, there were only three applicants: me, another associate well suited for the position and another who is barely suitable for existence.  So, it was really just me and the other girl.  And honestly, I was pretty sure I was more capable than she was.  Not bragging, just keeping it one hundred.  So, it was really just me and her.  But, really, I thought it was just going to be me.  I had almost hoped he'd give the job to her just so I wouldn't have to make the agonizing decision of accepting or declining.  It would be out of my hands and I wouldn't have to worry about being wrong or right, about screwing up my life even more.  At the same time, I knew whatever was going to happen, I'd be pretty disappointed.  If I didn't get it, I'd be stuck with less pay and more work.  If I did, then I might hate it.

So, I asked for a sign, some definitive answer to let me know if I should take the job or not.  Did I want this?  Could I handle this?  Would this turn into another barback catastrophe?  And I didn't want some puny sign, something that could be written off as a minor coincidence or something I could explain away easily.  It's almost like when you're looking for something, you'll find it.  You'll notice the smallest, stupidest thing and twist it to relate to your situation.  I didn't want that.  I didn't need any more hesitation.  I didn't need to be indecisive about a sign to help me with my indecisiveness!  I needed a clear yes or no, not a wishy-washy eh.

The next morning, I went to work like usual, only to come upon a bevy of police cars parked along the road of my work location.  They were blocking my usual route so I had to go the long way around to get to the parking lot.  As I passed, I noticed there was an accident of some sort.  A mangled white car was on the side of the road.  Many of my coworkers were out there looking.  At first, I thought they were just morbidly curious.  As I walked toward the building, one of the associates yelled to me that one of the ones in the crash was one of our coworkers.

Specifically, my competition.

My eyes bulged as I ran to the one yelling and asked if she was okay.  Thankfully, she was fine but shaken up.  Was this the sign I had asked for the previous night?  Was I responsible for her totaled car and frazzled faculties?  Was this my answer and if so, was it the loud and clear yes or was it possibly a resounding no?  I didn't know how to interpret these unfolding events.  Was this my competition being eliminated or was this telling me that she definitely needs this job now because her car is entirely destroyed?  As if my nerves weren't already spiked with electricity, it felt like they were being fried from the inside.

I explained this to a coworker later in the day and she assured me I shouldn't be concerned about it.  It made me feel only slightly better.  I talked myself through it for the rest of the day.  After giving it extremely careful thought, I came to a conclusion.  I knew what I wanted to do.

Right before my shift ended, the store manager called me into his office.  This was it.  He was going to tell me I got it.  I took a deep breath.  He told me after very careful consideration, he gave the job to someone else, someone I didn't even know had applied for it.  The reason?  Although she had only been there three months, she had more than ten years of retail experience overall, as opposed to my four years.  And that was that.  Although I worked my butt off there for the two years I was in college and worked twice as hard in the six months since returning, I suppose performance doesn't matter much when you can just say you've been in the game longer.  I've also been wiping my butt hole for the past twenty-something years while this lady has been wiping hers for the past fifty-something but does that really mean that she can wipe her butt better than I?  I was slightly blindsided by the surprise applicant and after I heard of my rejection, I tuned out the rest of his droning to process what he had just said.  I was calm.  I was okay.  And it was done.

And naturally, just like I had mentioned, after it all sank in, I was pretty disappointed, slightly angry.  And the more I think about the manager's reason for hiring this lady over me or the car crash girl, it irks me.  But, what can I do?  What's done is done and I'm stuck being their little peon.  He did mention that I was an asset to the company, as if it was some kind of consolation prize.  He inferred that I got "second place" for the job, so I guess he thought he'd slip that right on in there to make me feel better.

But that doesn't make me feel better at all.

Because I was going to accept.

animation notes #1

I'm pretty baffled.

I've been inconsistently sitting down and trying to figure out how to use these animation programs.  The software came with five disks and no instructions.  Awesome.  So, I've been purchasing books and watching tutorials and reading message boards in hopes of figuring out how to work all of this stuff but nothing has totally helped me.  I can understand bits and pieces here and there and I can almost put all the information together into something cohesive and understandable but not quite.  I feel like I'm almost there but all the information I've read just kind of glosses over the basics and never really applies the instructions to actual animation.  It's pretty frustrating.

As I've mentioned, everything I used in college has been upgraded at least twice in the year since I've graduated.  I don't want to say everything I learned was obsolete but it's definitely a lot slower of a process than what the new technology is capable of.  Unfortunately, I just don't know how to use the new technology!  Just to give you a small lesson in animation, it takes approximately (depending on your frame rate) twenty-four frames to make one second of animation.  That's twenty-four drawings.  Not only that but the drawings usually need to be cleaned up/inked and then filled in with color.  So, you're basically creating a picture in three phases.  So, that equates to seventy-two images for one second of animation.  Now, image doing a two or three minute short animation.  It might not seem long but when you take into account the drawing, clean up and simple color fill (not including shading and/or highlighting), it can take weeks or months just to make that seemingly simple two minutes.  Drawing every frame by hand is called frame by frame animation.  That's what I did for my senior film.

Well, there's a new thing in Adobe Flash called symbols that can increase productivity.  You basically draw a shape that you want to animate, turn it into a symbol, and then you can work with that one shape instead of having to redraw it fifteen hundred times.  Sounds great but I don't know how to do it.  I mean, I do, but it gets complicated when you try to organize your symbols into libraries and then you can do symbols inside of symbols and you can even do movie clips inside of symbols if I'm not mistaken.  It's like a hierarchy of symbols and I don't know how to construct it correctly.

So, I sit here and sort through my books and try to to go to the software website and look up stuff on YouTube but nothing really has what I'm looking after and I'm kind of stuck.  I suppose I could do frame by frame animation but it could take me forever to produce something.  But, I actually prefer frame by frame animation.  I like the idea of putting all of myself into animating.  I've always been a bigger fan of traditional 2D animation, where you put your pencil to paper and often times literally put your blood, sweat and tears into the thing.  I know I've often sweated over a deadline, got misty when frustrated and even gave myself a paper cut or two in the process.  You put your all into it.  I think it's a bit more personal than 3D animation where you point and click.  Now, let me say, I am not against 3D animation at all.  In fact, I think it has come a long way and is amazing it its own way.  I would even like to do 3D animation in the future.  But, as of right now, I prefer 2D.  But, since it would be more economical for me to do my 2D on a computer, I'm not getting the full feel of traditional animation by paper.  Still, doing this frame by frame is as close as I can get and I'm okay with that.  It will just take forever.

One of the cons of frame by frame animation is the tendency to lose the shape of the character after a while.  You get so caught up in trying to move the thing that it might start to grow or shrink as you get far into animating.  With symbols, however, you don't lose the shape because you're working with the one image over several frames.  But, there's a certain look to symbols that you might not be able to achieve with hand drawn animation. 

I guess I'll just have to compromise.  I don't have all the free time in the world to create a cartoon just however I want.  There are many things to consider.  I'd love to create an actual cartoon series that would run almost the same amount of length as a cartoon you'd see on television, which is about twenty-something minutes, sans commercials.  Imagine doing a twenty minute cartoon and doing around ten episodes of that cartoon.  That's about fourteen thousand images right there.  No small feat.  I might finish by the time I'm thirty.  Plus, I'd have no time to work on other projects for myself or others.  I definitely don't want to be doing that, though.  So, it seems symbols might speed up the process.  I just need to find out how to use them!  I might just have to do frame by frame for now until I can find out how to do the other because while I'm trying to learn one thing, I'm doing nothing.

I guess we'll see what I can come up with...eventually.

ruminating retail

There's a supervisor position opening at my work and I don't know if I should take it.  One of my coworkers told me about it and seems pretty adamant that I apply for it.  It sounds pretty good on paper except I would have to open and close the store, which means getting up earlier and staying at the store later.  I know that sounds really petty but I hate getting up early in the morning.  I can barely wake up and get to the store at my appointed time now.  Plus, if I'm the only supervisor there, I would be the one the associates would call if they have a question or a problem with a customer.  I'm not sure if I'm ready to handle that responsibility.  I have to call the current supervisors quite often myself.  Especially when I have an angry customer.  I just let the supervisor deal with it so I won't have to.  But, if I become supervisor, I'll have to.

Plus, I'll have keys and codes that I'll have to keep track of.  More responsibility.  I'm not sure if I can handle it.  I kind of already feel stressed out enough.  I'm basically in charge of my department now but because I'm an associate, there's a slight buffer zone of responsibility where I can ask for help and/or let someone else take care of a certain situation.  If I become a supervisor, it'll all be on me.

I also don't want to be so tied down to the place.  Being a peon associate, I kind of feel like I can come and go pretty easily.  I show up and do my job and leave.  There's no extra paperwork or scheduling to do.  I just fold some shirts and get the heck up out of there.  I just wonder how all the extra hours will affect my ability to work on my animations.  I also wonder how it will affect my ability to leave if I ever did get an internship.  I hoped they would let me off for as long as the internship lasted and then would let me back when it was over (if the internship didn't lead to any job opportunities).  Being an associate, I don't think it would be much of a problem.  But, being a supervisor, that probably wouldn't work out so well.

But then again, what if I don't get a better job or an internship any time soon or at all?  I would hate to miss this opportunity, as this will probably be the last opportunity for a long while.  There really is no option for advancement as everyone has been at this job for most of their lives.  Seriously.  These people have been locked into their positions since for over forty years.  For some, this has been there one and only job the whole time.  So, this is an extremely rare opportunity for advancement and for a pay raise, which I need desperately.  But, I've heard conflicting wage amounts.  Some say it won't be much more (which I don't see being worth pursuing) and others say it will be a lot more (which would be worth pursuing) so I don't know what to do.

I kind of like the idea of being a supervisor.  I like the idea of the associates being happy that I'm working with them instead of some other supervisors.  I know I dread working with some and enjoy working with others so I'd like to be that supervisor people enjoy working with.  It would make me feel good.  I just worry I might not be stern enough when it comes time to discipline someone who might not be doing what they are supposed to.  I am pretty non-confrontational.

Then again, having supervisory experience would look good on my resume when I apply for a different job.

There's good and there's bad to this position.  I just can't figure out which one weighs more.

I don't want to screw up and take the position and then hate it and either be stuck there or embarrassed by having to revert back to my old position.  I also don't want to miss this opportunity for advancement and regret it.

I have to hand in my application by Thursday.  Not much time to make a decision.