I'm not very good with crowds. I am very neurotic in that sense and though I wouldn't consider myself as claustrophobic, the idea of being in a crowd of people really gives me chills. I don't go to a lot of festivals or concerts because I just need to know that I'm free to get where I want to be in a reasonable amount of time without having to worry about the pace or sparseness of others.
I was on a plane once and we landed. We landed. And we were waiting for the plane in front of us to finish hauling their sheep off of the plane and to get out of the fucking way before we were able to finally taxi up to the fucking tube and be able to cart ourselves off. I remember sitting in the window seat and waiting 30 minutes before we actually moved. This was the first time I realized I wasn't good at handling this situation. I knew that I was different but then all of a sudden you find this emotional center of yourself that you didn't even know existed or at least it came out so rarely that you pretend it doesn't exist.
I'm just sitting there in coach with a couple sitting next to me, probably in their 50s and at a certain point I huddle over myself with my head between my knees and its 15 or 20 minutes in without moving and I've got my hands over my ears because not only are we not going anywhere, not only is my 6 foot 6 body dying to stretch out over a long flight and the fasten seatbelt light is still lit so I can't move around, not only do I have to go to the bathroom, but somewhere in this godforsaken sardine can is an incessant beeping noise that nobody else seems to hear or care about and it's driving me insane.
The thing that bothered me the most was that I was stuck there and unable to do anything about it. Not being in control of where I was or where I could go was absolutely frustrating and annoying beyond anything I've ever felt and I'm crouched in a fetal position hugging my knees and trying to pretend like none of this is happening and wondering if time really had stopped forever.
It's usually only in moments like this that you can remember that last time you felt so crazy and that indeed it wasn't the first time and probably won't be the last. That we all have breaking points but some of us simply have a higher threshold than others or just weird nerve centers that when you touch them they freak out. Some of the nerve centers are common, like a broken heart. Others are weird and abnormal and you'll see those on a mid-day talk show talking about how toilet paper scares them to death.
I found mine in being stuck in an airplane when we've already landed and unable to just stand up and go home, when I could literally see my destination and do nothing about it. That doesn't seem so weird when I put it like that.
Monday, July 25, 2011
A Cynical View of LA
I come from a suburb of Seattle and I can tell you that as a person who never really went into Seattle and stayed in comfy confines of the suburb, I never even had to think about parking. Whether you are going to a bar, or a friends house, or HOME, I never had to think about parking. It wasn't anywhere in my consciousness and why would it be? You go somewhere, you park there. That's it. Theres no consideration about parking and it was lovely but I took it for granted because now I live in LA and when you're going somewhere the first thing you have to think about is traffic and the 2nd thing you have to think about is parking.
What you're actually doing when you get to your destination is like the 8th or 9th thing that you consider when you live in LA. This is why people go nuts when they live in LA.
After I moved to LA I was having trouble sleeping and I would stay up for 2-3 hours wide awake and my heart beating and I didn't know why, my mind was just racing and I thought maybe this is it. Maybe this is what the days leading up to a heart attack are like? And so i kept on like that for a few months until I finally had to go see a doctor. Not for my racing heart mind you, but for something entirely different that had to be looked at immediately. If it was just chest pains, I would have probably just let it pass or died, and not gone to see the doctor, because I guess that's just how I view my life I suppose. I would rather have a racing heart beat, and chest pains, then actually have to call a doctors office, make an appointment, fucking go there... it's all too much. But when I had a painful hangnail on my thumb, I had to bite the bullet and go see the doctor.
So while I'm there, and I figure "fuck I might as well make the most of this" I told him about my inabilty to sleep. Now, the first thing I think about when I say this is "This fucking guy is going to think I just want a pot card." This is california man and I already can tell that everyone is going to the doctor complaining about stress, anxiety, insomnia, just to get a pot card and legally buy pot. And they're fucking it up for the rest of us, because i cant see any doctor taking me seriously when i say "man, i need help relaxing" when I'm a 28 year old white male. They just won't buy it.
Luckily, I was wrong and he did take me seriously, probably just by looking at me and seeing i probably would have chest pains, and he asked me "did you move ot LA in the last 6 months to a year?" and I'm like "Holy shit, how did you know that?" and he says, "well its very common for people who just move here, to freak out and have panic attacks because of how stressful the city is." and I'm like "Holy shit, are you serious?"
This is what LA does to people. Everyone talks about the traffic and the smog, but the thing that kills you is all the fucking people and expectations and hipsters and it's all just a mad fucking dash to be better than the person next to you, even if you're not trying to do that, you don't realize that you're trying to do that. Even if you came here to be a physicist and not an actor, you just take form of a Los Angelean without knowing it. All of a sudden you're judging yourself against the person next to you because self-awareness is thicker in the air than the smog.
The fact that most people who live in LA are transplants just adds to the fact that most of us are aware of a better life, yet we choose to continue living here. We know that we could find that happy medium in another city, not a place to rural and yet not a place like LA.
The doctor gave me some medication to relax and sure enough I slept like a baby and then when the medication ran out I didn't refill it, I just started sleeping better. But then as time goes on and I want to do more with my time in LA, the stress has returned. Except now instead of my heart racing, I feel like there isn't anything going on in my chest. Like I've just become a zombie and this is what it's like to be the walking dead, just going through the motions while doctors put a stethoscope up to my chest and look at my strangely like in a movie like "I can't find the heartbeat"
Yeah, that's because I have accepted the fact that I live here and the body realized that the heart was no longer necessary.
What you're actually doing when you get to your destination is like the 8th or 9th thing that you consider when you live in LA. This is why people go nuts when they live in LA.
After I moved to LA I was having trouble sleeping and I would stay up for 2-3 hours wide awake and my heart beating and I didn't know why, my mind was just racing and I thought maybe this is it. Maybe this is what the days leading up to a heart attack are like? And so i kept on like that for a few months until I finally had to go see a doctor. Not for my racing heart mind you, but for something entirely different that had to be looked at immediately. If it was just chest pains, I would have probably just let it pass or died, and not gone to see the doctor, because I guess that's just how I view my life I suppose. I would rather have a racing heart beat, and chest pains, then actually have to call a doctors office, make an appointment, fucking go there... it's all too much. But when I had a painful hangnail on my thumb, I had to bite the bullet and go see the doctor.
So while I'm there, and I figure "fuck I might as well make the most of this" I told him about my inabilty to sleep. Now, the first thing I think about when I say this is "This fucking guy is going to think I just want a pot card." This is california man and I already can tell that everyone is going to the doctor complaining about stress, anxiety, insomnia, just to get a pot card and legally buy pot. And they're fucking it up for the rest of us, because i cant see any doctor taking me seriously when i say "man, i need help relaxing" when I'm a 28 year old white male. They just won't buy it.
Luckily, I was wrong and he did take me seriously, probably just by looking at me and seeing i probably would have chest pains, and he asked me "did you move ot LA in the last 6 months to a year?" and I'm like "Holy shit, how did you know that?" and he says, "well its very common for people who just move here, to freak out and have panic attacks because of how stressful the city is." and I'm like "Holy shit, are you serious?"
This is what LA does to people. Everyone talks about the traffic and the smog, but the thing that kills you is all the fucking people and expectations and hipsters and it's all just a mad fucking dash to be better than the person next to you, even if you're not trying to do that, you don't realize that you're trying to do that. Even if you came here to be a physicist and not an actor, you just take form of a Los Angelean without knowing it. All of a sudden you're judging yourself against the person next to you because self-awareness is thicker in the air than the smog.
The fact that most people who live in LA are transplants just adds to the fact that most of us are aware of a better life, yet we choose to continue living here. We know that we could find that happy medium in another city, not a place to rural and yet not a place like LA.
The doctor gave me some medication to relax and sure enough I slept like a baby and then when the medication ran out I didn't refill it, I just started sleeping better. But then as time goes on and I want to do more with my time in LA, the stress has returned. Except now instead of my heart racing, I feel like there isn't anything going on in my chest. Like I've just become a zombie and this is what it's like to be the walking dead, just going through the motions while doctors put a stethoscope up to my chest and look at my strangely like in a movie like "I can't find the heartbeat"
Yeah, that's because I have accepted the fact that I live here and the body realized that the heart was no longer necessary.
Thursday, July 21, 2011
Really Cheesy: Fortune Cookie Messages
In accordance in what I just said about pursuing my dream and playing poker and doing comedy. Here are the 6 fortune cookie messages I've accumulated recently that I've kept at my desk for no good reason at all. I've ordered them in the way I think appropriate:
Gee, aren't you laughing at this horribly cheesy and stupid post? Fuck it.
- You shall attain great wisdom with each passing year.
- Gentle hints will help you decide the best answer.
- Wise men learn more from fools, than fools from the wise.
- You will discover an unexpected treasure.
- Hold tight to your dreams.
- You will touch the hearts of many.
Gee, aren't you laughing at this horribly cheesy and stupid post? Fuck it.
I have to do it.
At some point in your life, you realize what it is you want to do.
At some point in your life, you make a plan on how you will accomplish that.
At some point in your life, you make the first step towards doing it.
What I want to do is write. I want to write comedy and be a comedian. I want to make people laugh.
This isn't something you apply for and hopefully you get the job and then they're paying you while you work towards your goal. This is something you have to sacrifice and plan for.
I am a good poker player. I have to become a great poker player. If I am a great poker player, I can have that be my full-time job. While I make my own hours, I can write comedy and do stand-up and take classes at the UCB. Poker, if you are good at it, is a unique opportunity to set your own hours. I am good. I need to become great.
Step 1 - Improve your poker game so that you can make a minimum of $50,000 a year playing.
Step 2 - Build a bankroll large enough to play poker full-time.
Step 3 - Write, Write, Write.
Step 4 - Sign up for the UCB.
This is what I want my life to be. This is what I'm starting now.
At some point in your life, you make a plan on how you will accomplish that.
At some point in your life, you make the first step towards doing it.
What I want to do is write. I want to write comedy and be a comedian. I want to make people laugh.
This isn't something you apply for and hopefully you get the job and then they're paying you while you work towards your goal. This is something you have to sacrifice and plan for.
I am a good poker player. I have to become a great poker player. If I am a great poker player, I can have that be my full-time job. While I make my own hours, I can write comedy and do stand-up and take classes at the UCB. Poker, if you are good at it, is a unique opportunity to set your own hours. I am good. I need to become great.
Step 1 - Improve your poker game so that you can make a minimum of $50,000 a year playing.
Step 2 - Build a bankroll large enough to play poker full-time.
Step 3 - Write, Write, Write.
Step 4 - Sign up for the UCB.
This is what I want my life to be. This is what I'm starting now.
Wednesday, July 20, 2011
A Hoodie Attitude
Am I the only person who imagines himself a lot? That sounds really vain and self-centered. What I mean is that I picture myself in a place that I will be at or might be at, and I do that a lot.
If I am imagining myself in a situation that I might be in or want to be in, I have an image in my head of myself. My mind is constantly running and my imagination is non-stop. I don't know what causes that. I don't know if that's normal. For me, it just is.
Lately, I am consistently picturing myself wearing a black hoodie. I don't know why but every time a situation comes up where I have to think about myself in a place I will be in, whether it be a date or a night out with friends, I'm wearing a black hoodie.
Not too long ago I couldn't stop thinking about myself having a little mohawk. I wanted to shave the sides of my head so badly but luckily that never really came close to happening. I have a real-life job, and I couldn't just get away with that and I knew that eventually I would look back in retrospect and realize it's not something I wanted either. It was more like a driving force that I couldn't control, telling me to do it. Hopefully not in the way that a dog told David Berkowitz to shoot people. My only crime would have been a bad haircut.
That's changed now. I don't think about the mohawk anymore. It's just a black hoodie. But why? I can only guess that it's because right now I don't want to be noticed. I want to hide my face and blend into the crowd. This isn't always the case with me and frankly it's the exact opposite of a mohawk. A mohawk says "look at me!" and a black hoodie says "don't look at me, I'm going to rob you."
Except my intention in my imagination isn't to rob people, scare people, or even necessarily fade into the darkness. I just want to be in my own world and I don't need anyone to pay attention to me. If I'm in my hoodie, you're welcome to join me in conversation. I'm not saying that I'm anti-social or anti-anything. It's just how I feel right now.
I play poker and you can usually find me in a hoodie. I don't think the hoodie gives me special powers or makes me anything special, and I don't wear it for strategy like some people wear sunglasses. I just feel more comfortable when I'm playing in my own world. Sometimes when I'm in a hand I'll throw half of the hoodie over my face and slowly breath into it. Not for strategy, not to hide anything from my opponent, but more just like a security blanket. And maybe I'm a little superstitious but most of that part of my thinking has evaporated as well. It's just that when I'm playing poker I'm doing it for myself, not for anybody else, so I'll happily live on this island alone.
I don't think that's much different than my picturing myself in a bar in a black hoodie. This is my island and I'm not here for anybody else. I've got my hood up, a beer in my hand, and I'm having just a fine time. I'm not anti-social and I'm probably the most approachable person in the bar because I find people interesting and fascinating and I love to engage in the exchanging of words. But I'm just as fine observing the others patrons here in my black hoodie. It may not be how I come off, but I'm not worried about how I come off; obviously.
By the way, I don't even own a black hoodie.
If I am imagining myself in a situation that I might be in or want to be in, I have an image in my head of myself. My mind is constantly running and my imagination is non-stop. I don't know what causes that. I don't know if that's normal. For me, it just is.
Lately, I am consistently picturing myself wearing a black hoodie. I don't know why but every time a situation comes up where I have to think about myself in a place I will be in, whether it be a date or a night out with friends, I'm wearing a black hoodie.
Not too long ago I couldn't stop thinking about myself having a little mohawk. I wanted to shave the sides of my head so badly but luckily that never really came close to happening. I have a real-life job, and I couldn't just get away with that and I knew that eventually I would look back in retrospect and realize it's not something I wanted either. It was more like a driving force that I couldn't control, telling me to do it. Hopefully not in the way that a dog told David Berkowitz to shoot people. My only crime would have been a bad haircut.
That's changed now. I don't think about the mohawk anymore. It's just a black hoodie. But why? I can only guess that it's because right now I don't want to be noticed. I want to hide my face and blend into the crowd. This isn't always the case with me and frankly it's the exact opposite of a mohawk. A mohawk says "look at me!" and a black hoodie says "don't look at me, I'm going to rob you."
Except my intention in my imagination isn't to rob people, scare people, or even necessarily fade into the darkness. I just want to be in my own world and I don't need anyone to pay attention to me. If I'm in my hoodie, you're welcome to join me in conversation. I'm not saying that I'm anti-social or anti-anything. It's just how I feel right now.
I play poker and you can usually find me in a hoodie. I don't think the hoodie gives me special powers or makes me anything special, and I don't wear it for strategy like some people wear sunglasses. I just feel more comfortable when I'm playing in my own world. Sometimes when I'm in a hand I'll throw half of the hoodie over my face and slowly breath into it. Not for strategy, not to hide anything from my opponent, but more just like a security blanket. And maybe I'm a little superstitious but most of that part of my thinking has evaporated as well. It's just that when I'm playing poker I'm doing it for myself, not for anybody else, so I'll happily live on this island alone.
I don't think that's much different than my picturing myself in a bar in a black hoodie. This is my island and I'm not here for anybody else. I've got my hood up, a beer in my hand, and I'm having just a fine time. I'm not anti-social and I'm probably the most approachable person in the bar because I find people interesting and fascinating and I love to engage in the exchanging of words. But I'm just as fine observing the others patrons here in my black hoodie. It may not be how I come off, but I'm not worried about how I come off; obviously.
By the way, I don't even own a black hoodie.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Two Thousand Relationships a Year
I sent several messages to someone online, nothing serious. Just making observations about some things they had posted online and after 4 or 5 messages I said something along the lines of "Most of my relationships go in the opposite direction of this one" as a joke.
The response was "This is not a relationship" and my response was "I was using the term loosely. You have a relationship with a person you're waiting at the same stop light as, on some level."
I guess I had never really dived into that concept before. I had thought about it a little bit maybe, but then I really started to think about it. We do develop mini-relationships all of the time. Most relationships will last under five minutes, but truthfully we aren't always aware of how to identify those.
I get what the person I was messaging meant, and her intent of the message was right; this was not a "relationship" in the classical sense. This wasn't someone I was dating or even trying to date or had even met. This was just a person I had interacted with. We exchanged words. It was no more of a relationship than what you might expect from your waiter at Applebee's.
We start these kinds of relationships all of the time. In the movie (or book if you prefer) Fight Club, the Narrator describes "Single-serving friends." That during his travels, especially airplane rides, it was just a pre-determined amount of time you would be forced into a relationship with the person sitting next to you and then it was over. Of course, this is not always the case.
In Fight Club, it became much more than a single-serving friend. But the gist of the idea is correct, and sometimes a single-serving friend can last even shorter than an airplane ride. How often do you even really speak to the person sitting next to you? Do you ever speak to a stranger on the bus? To the person behind you in line at the grocery store?
Probably not. But once there is a mutual awareness of each others existence you've developed a tiny relationship. You don't have a relationship with Barack Obama. You know of his existence, but he doesn't know of yours, therefore you aren't interacting, exchanging, helping, or deterring one another. However, what if the person next to you on the bus has a heart attack? What would you do?
Whether you help them or ignore them, you're making a decision about this person whether it affects either one of you or not. You are thrown into these mini-relationships constantly and they rarely will affect you, but sometimes they will change you.
Let's say that on average you interact with 5 new people a day. To me, this is a conservative estimate. Very conservative. You might say "I haven't interacted with 5 people this entire week" but is that really your average week? Are you just an eccentric recluse? If you go to the store, go to a restaurant, go to a Starbucks, go to work, go to school, call your credit card company and speak to a customer service representative, leave the house, how many people are you really interacting with? Maybe you spend an entire weekend at home but there will still be days where you might interact with 30 people.
But for arguments sake lets say you average 5 a day. That's 1,825 new interactions a year. I like round numbers and I think I was being conservative, so let's call it 2,000. Two thousand tiny to major relationships and interactions every year.
Let's say that 99% of those mean very little. A nod to a stranger walking down the street. A door you open for an elderly couple. An angry driver that you cut off in traffic. They happened, they past, they'll never come back to you. 99%. That extra 1% leaves you with a full 20 people that won't be single-serving friends. 20 people.
You can never be sure who those 20 people will be. The stranger walking down the street that becomes a friend. The elderly couple that gives you a job. The angry driver that smashes into your rear bumper. The handshake that becomes a spouse. 2000 opportunities to make 20 important relationships every year.
So every time you do interact with another person, how will you treat them?
Every time I make a call into a company for customer service, I try to treat the rep with as much respect as possible. Even if I am angry and call in to complain about a mistake they made, or a misunderstanding, or an interruption in service, I know not only that it is not the CSR's fault, but that they will interact with 100's of people a day. Most of those people probably do treat them like shit. I don't need to add to that. I try to be the best customer that they'll talk to every day, and we mutually benefit. I get fees waived all the time, and I hopefully bring a smile to their face.
If everybody tries to do something for everybody else, then everybody wins. When you take the chance and believe you don't need anyone else to get where you need to be, you're gambling that you're perfect. How many perfect people have you met? If you're 30 years old, and interacted with 60,000 people in your life, I guarantee 0% of those people were perfect. You don't need to be a math major to know the answer to that.
The response was "This is not a relationship" and my response was "I was using the term loosely. You have a relationship with a person you're waiting at the same stop light as, on some level."
I guess I had never really dived into that concept before. I had thought about it a little bit maybe, but then I really started to think about it. We do develop mini-relationships all of the time. Most relationships will last under five minutes, but truthfully we aren't always aware of how to identify those.
I get what the person I was messaging meant, and her intent of the message was right; this was not a "relationship" in the classical sense. This wasn't someone I was dating or even trying to date or had even met. This was just a person I had interacted with. We exchanged words. It was no more of a relationship than what you might expect from your waiter at Applebee's.
We start these kinds of relationships all of the time. In the movie (or book if you prefer) Fight Club, the Narrator describes "Single-serving friends." That during his travels, especially airplane rides, it was just a pre-determined amount of time you would be forced into a relationship with the person sitting next to you and then it was over. Of course, this is not always the case.
In Fight Club, it became much more than a single-serving friend. But the gist of the idea is correct, and sometimes a single-serving friend can last even shorter than an airplane ride. How often do you even really speak to the person sitting next to you? Do you ever speak to a stranger on the bus? To the person behind you in line at the grocery store?
Probably not. But once there is a mutual awareness of each others existence you've developed a tiny relationship. You don't have a relationship with Barack Obama. You know of his existence, but he doesn't know of yours, therefore you aren't interacting, exchanging, helping, or deterring one another. However, what if the person next to you on the bus has a heart attack? What would you do?
Whether you help them or ignore them, you're making a decision about this person whether it affects either one of you or not. You are thrown into these mini-relationships constantly and they rarely will affect you, but sometimes they will change you.
Let's say that on average you interact with 5 new people a day. To me, this is a conservative estimate. Very conservative. You might say "I haven't interacted with 5 people this entire week" but is that really your average week? Are you just an eccentric recluse? If you go to the store, go to a restaurant, go to a Starbucks, go to work, go to school, call your credit card company and speak to a customer service representative, leave the house, how many people are you really interacting with? Maybe you spend an entire weekend at home but there will still be days where you might interact with 30 people.
But for arguments sake lets say you average 5 a day. That's 1,825 new interactions a year. I like round numbers and I think I was being conservative, so let's call it 2,000. Two thousand tiny to major relationships and interactions every year.
Let's say that 99% of those mean very little. A nod to a stranger walking down the street. A door you open for an elderly couple. An angry driver that you cut off in traffic. They happened, they past, they'll never come back to you. 99%. That extra 1% leaves you with a full 20 people that won't be single-serving friends. 20 people.
You can never be sure who those 20 people will be. The stranger walking down the street that becomes a friend. The elderly couple that gives you a job. The angry driver that smashes into your rear bumper. The handshake that becomes a spouse. 2000 opportunities to make 20 important relationships every year.
So every time you do interact with another person, how will you treat them?
Every time I make a call into a company for customer service, I try to treat the rep with as much respect as possible. Even if I am angry and call in to complain about a mistake they made, or a misunderstanding, or an interruption in service, I know not only that it is not the CSR's fault, but that they will interact with 100's of people a day. Most of those people probably do treat them like shit. I don't need to add to that. I try to be the best customer that they'll talk to every day, and we mutually benefit. I get fees waived all the time, and I hopefully bring a smile to their face.
If everybody tries to do something for everybody else, then everybody wins. When you take the chance and believe you don't need anyone else to get where you need to be, you're gambling that you're perfect. How many perfect people have you met? If you're 30 years old, and interacted with 60,000 people in your life, I guarantee 0% of those people were perfect. You don't need to be a math major to know the answer to that.
Monday, July 18, 2011
Failure #316: Stacie
Stacie moved here from the South and didn't know anybody. She had transferred to my office in the same company, basically for similar reasons as to why I moved to LA. Just needing to mix things up and try something different.
Growing up in one place was fine, but living there for my entire life was not going to be okay. A pivotal part of life, I believe, is living in different part of the world. If I am going to live another 50 years, and I don't really believe that I will, then I am more than 33% done and now I've lived significant parts of my life in 3 different environments. Before too long, I'll have to move on from here too.
So we had that in common.
I knew what it was like for me moving to a new place and not knowing many people, so I was more than happy to take her under my wing and show where what I had found about LA. What I liked, who I liked at the company, and who I didn't like. And we got along great because we had similar senses of humor, life experiences, and opinions. She seemed like a cool chick.
I gave her some movies to watch because she had none, I told her some places to check out, I gave her advice. And I felt pretty good about that. I wasn't doing it to get anything out of it. Stacie is attractive in a way, but she's a couple years older than me, she paints her face on everyday, and she's spent too many hours in the tanning booth.
Basically, I wasn't doing this so I could bang Stacie. I did it out of the kindness of my heart.
It was only a week or two before I invited her out for a drink. We went out, had fun, got wasted, and hit it off. She was starting to grow on me. I definitely wanted to spend more time with this chick.
We hung out a couple of more times and explored the city together. Even bought tickets to a Girl Talk concert that was a month in advance. But it's not like she was the only one I invited to the concert. I invited all of my friends, she was just the only one who said "Yes" and she was very excited to see Girl Talk, as was I.
Maybe a week later, maybe less, I was out with friends and got really drunk. I mean, really really drunk. We started drinking early in the afternoon and by early nightfall I was starting to cross over to the other side. The side that any drinker knows about, but few remember what happens when they get there.
I remember the first phone call to Stacie. She was bowling with some co-workers and I told her I was excited for the show. She agreed. I think I may have thrown her a few compliments like "you're great" but I don't think it was anything over the top. It was harmless, I know that for sure.
I can say with 100% certainty that I had nothing more than perhaps a schoolboy crush on her. Truthfully, even though she's only a couple years older than me, with her years of tanning, her gobs of make-up, and her badly treated hair, it was more like a "Mrs. Robinson" thing.
That sounds terrible and makes me sound like I'm taking shots at her because I'm bitter (I'm sure you see where this story is going) but it's the truth. I just want to make it clear I wasn't overwhelmed with emotions for Stacie. I will say that when she didn't put on a lot of make-up, she actually is quite attractive. I'm not sure what drives some women to overdo it, especially when they've got naturally good looks. Maybe that was a sign I should have looked out for.
The rest of the night was blurry. My friends and I got separated and we were staying at a hotel because we were in a city that was a good hour or so from where we live. I remember bar hopping, then getting lost, then taking a taxi but having no idea where to tell him to go, stopping at a liquor store so I could go to an ATM to pay the taxi, then finding the hotel, and going to bed with the TV on and I remember making one more phone call to Stacie.
It was ridiculous. I admit. And I felt ashamed the next day.
I think I called her to try and say I was sorry and explain but no answer. She just texted me back hours and hours later saying it was cool and not to worry.
At work I sent her an IM just to say "My bad, I really feel bad." again and she insisted not to worry about it. That I just called 3 or 4 times but I didn't say anything bad.
I realized how creepy I potentially came off though and didn't call or text her much after that. Just to show, "Look, I was drunk, I'm not stalking you, let's move on."
And that is the 100% honest truth.
The next weekend I just texted her "You still want to go to the concert?" and her response was "Why?"
Not exactly the response I wanted. It could have meant "Why wouldn't I?" but she left it vague. Like this was an out or something she would be willing to grab. She later said "yes, of course. I'm just going to try and get some more people to go." and I said "the more the merrier."
Now it was become more clear that I did creep her the fuck out. Oh well, just tell me now if you don't want to go to the concert. I'm fine with that. It will give me time to find someone else to go. I bought the tickets (for which she had not paid me yet) and wanted to use them.
Another week passed and she said she had the money for the tickets and would drop it off. I kind of wanted to see her just to get a read on her. But she never showed up. Days passed, then another two weeks and it's almost concert time. I told her not to worry about it, she could pay me at the concert.
The day before the concert she leaves the money with the receptionist at work. Uhh... okay. She says she's trying to get her friend "Theo" to go. Fine, whatever. I really don't care I just dont want to go to a concert by myself. And I want to show that I'm not a creep or a prick.
So now it's concert day. I'm excited. I tell her I can pick her up but she says to just meet me there. She doesn't want to ride with me. She doesn't say this, but it's obvious. She had no problem riding places with me before the incident but she doesn't want to be alone with me after it.
3 PM and its 5 hours to show time.
"I don't think I'll be able to make it. You can give my ticket to somebody else."
Sounds like she wasn't able to get Theo to be her bodyguard.
My first response was short because I was just pissed off. "Okay"
Then a few minutes pass and I let my anger subside slightly and let it turn to an apology. Something to the effect of "This is what happened. I am really sorry. I hope we can still be friends." but a little longer than that and with more explanation and trying to show I'm not a creep. I'm actually a really nice guy.
It only took four weeks and several apologies for her to finally confess that indeed I creeped her out and that I left several messages that were "Passionate and overwhelming." and she wasn't comfortable to be around me.
Passionate and overwhelming.
I know what she meant by this and I understand why that sounds alarming to her. I'm not going to lie though, my first reaction was to laugh. I mean, how amazing is it that I got so drunk that I left "passionate and overwhelming" voice messages to someone that I wasn't passionate about? I consider the possibility that the blacked out version of myself reached into the deep recesses of my mind for something that I didn't know was there, but in all likelihood I was just being a loving drunk. A passionate and overwhelming drunk.
After it had set in a little bit more I decided to let passionate and overwhelming become a badge of honor for myself. First of all, how much different are the two words? If one is to be passionate, than one may overwhelm others with that. Second of all, what's wrong with passion? What kind of a girl wouldn't want a guy with a little passion!
Okay, probably one who had only hung out with a guy a few times and apparently left very passionate voicemails, but I still take it as a point of pride. That's me: Passionate and Overwhelming and if you don't like it, nobody is asking you to buy it.
I was still very upset and the reason I was upset was not because Stacie was creeped out and decided not to go. The reason I was upset was because she lied to me for 3-4 weeks, treated me like a piece of scum, and decided only not to go when her bodyguard couldn't make it. Have some fucking balls and say right away "I don't feel comfortable" especially when I give you several opportunities to do so.
I apologize and feel stupid about coming off in the manner that I did, but I would have never done to anybody what she did to me. Especially since Stacie is an alcoholic and has probably done the exact same thing I did. If you want proof that I really am a nice guy and wouldn't do something like to my worst enemy (why am I going to a concert with my worst enemy?) how about this:
A few weeks after that there was a company related bus trip to a weekend event that would have over 100 people going. Seeing as she didn't know many people still, I did NOT expect Stacie to be there. My friend and I were sitting in the bus, just about to get going when sure as shit Stacie sits in the aisle ACROSS FROM US. Like, literally, 3 feet away from us is this chick who I have not spoken to since that day and really had no interest in ever speaking to again.
(Oh, my response to her text about passionate and overwhelming was basically like, "I really had no idea. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to creep you out. That's not how I feel about you. I honestly thought you were just becoming a cool friend. I'll delete your phone number if that makes you feel better." End of conversation.)
So there she sat, and I knew that she was uncomfortable and didn't know very many people. I didn't feel comfortable either and we had an hour and a half on this bus. So, did I move? Did I make her more uncomfortable so she would move?
Nope. I said Hello and offered her a beer. I made a peace offering. I still thought Stacie wasn't a very nice or forgiving person, but I am a forgiving person. And I cared more about whether or not she was uncomfortable than if I was uncomfortable. And I did owe her that. I owed her comfortability, because I did cross a line over the phone, even if I was drunk and whether I was joking around or not, I owed it to her. So this put us both at peace, and I could wash my hands of the whole situation.
The rest of the day went pretty well. Stacie, my friend, myself, and another co-worker hung out and had fun times. That day was perfect just as it was and I thought maybe I could at least look less creepy in the eyes of this person.
After that day, she tried to fuck my friend who was basically dating her only other friend at the company and it re-affirmed that she is a piece of shit. And not somebody I would want to be friends with. If she wanted to have friends in the city, she could have tried being a little more understanding about what I had done, but she chose not to do that. I have no idea how many friends she has right now. Maybe she has a ton, maybe she has more than me, maybe she has none. Sure, life isn't measured in how many friends you have, but in the quality of that friend.
I would like to think I'm a quality friend and that I have quality friends. She isn't, in my mind, much of a quality friend and will have a hard time making friends like that. It's too bad, because she is a fun person. Just needs to be more open and understanding and honest. And probably not try to fuck over every friend you make.
Growing up in one place was fine, but living there for my entire life was not going to be okay. A pivotal part of life, I believe, is living in different part of the world. If I am going to live another 50 years, and I don't really believe that I will, then I am more than 33% done and now I've lived significant parts of my life in 3 different environments. Before too long, I'll have to move on from here too.
So we had that in common.
I knew what it was like for me moving to a new place and not knowing many people, so I was more than happy to take her under my wing and show where what I had found about LA. What I liked, who I liked at the company, and who I didn't like. And we got along great because we had similar senses of humor, life experiences, and opinions. She seemed like a cool chick.
I gave her some movies to watch because she had none, I told her some places to check out, I gave her advice. And I felt pretty good about that. I wasn't doing it to get anything out of it. Stacie is attractive in a way, but she's a couple years older than me, she paints her face on everyday, and she's spent too many hours in the tanning booth.
Basically, I wasn't doing this so I could bang Stacie. I did it out of the kindness of my heart.
It was only a week or two before I invited her out for a drink. We went out, had fun, got wasted, and hit it off. She was starting to grow on me. I definitely wanted to spend more time with this chick.
We hung out a couple of more times and explored the city together. Even bought tickets to a Girl Talk concert that was a month in advance. But it's not like she was the only one I invited to the concert. I invited all of my friends, she was just the only one who said "Yes" and she was very excited to see Girl Talk, as was I.
Maybe a week later, maybe less, I was out with friends and got really drunk. I mean, really really drunk. We started drinking early in the afternoon and by early nightfall I was starting to cross over to the other side. The side that any drinker knows about, but few remember what happens when they get there.
I remember the first phone call to Stacie. She was bowling with some co-workers and I told her I was excited for the show. She agreed. I think I may have thrown her a few compliments like "you're great" but I don't think it was anything over the top. It was harmless, I know that for sure.
I can say with 100% certainty that I had nothing more than perhaps a schoolboy crush on her. Truthfully, even though she's only a couple years older than me, with her years of tanning, her gobs of make-up, and her badly treated hair, it was more like a "Mrs. Robinson" thing.
That sounds terrible and makes me sound like I'm taking shots at her because I'm bitter (I'm sure you see where this story is going) but it's the truth. I just want to make it clear I wasn't overwhelmed with emotions for Stacie. I will say that when she didn't put on a lot of make-up, she actually is quite attractive. I'm not sure what drives some women to overdo it, especially when they've got naturally good looks. Maybe that was a sign I should have looked out for.
The rest of the night was blurry. My friends and I got separated and we were staying at a hotel because we were in a city that was a good hour or so from where we live. I remember bar hopping, then getting lost, then taking a taxi but having no idea where to tell him to go, stopping at a liquor store so I could go to an ATM to pay the taxi, then finding the hotel, and going to bed with the TV on and I remember making one more phone call to Stacie.
It was ridiculous. I admit. And I felt ashamed the next day.
I think I called her to try and say I was sorry and explain but no answer. She just texted me back hours and hours later saying it was cool and not to worry.
At work I sent her an IM just to say "My bad, I really feel bad." again and she insisted not to worry about it. That I just called 3 or 4 times but I didn't say anything bad.
I realized how creepy I potentially came off though and didn't call or text her much after that. Just to show, "Look, I was drunk, I'm not stalking you, let's move on."
And that is the 100% honest truth.
The next weekend I just texted her "You still want to go to the concert?" and her response was "Why?"
Not exactly the response I wanted. It could have meant "Why wouldn't I?" but she left it vague. Like this was an out or something she would be willing to grab. She later said "yes, of course. I'm just going to try and get some more people to go." and I said "the more the merrier."
Now it was become more clear that I did creep her the fuck out. Oh well, just tell me now if you don't want to go to the concert. I'm fine with that. It will give me time to find someone else to go. I bought the tickets (for which she had not paid me yet) and wanted to use them.
Another week passed and she said she had the money for the tickets and would drop it off. I kind of wanted to see her just to get a read on her. But she never showed up. Days passed, then another two weeks and it's almost concert time. I told her not to worry about it, she could pay me at the concert.
The day before the concert she leaves the money with the receptionist at work. Uhh... okay. She says she's trying to get her friend "Theo" to go. Fine, whatever. I really don't care I just dont want to go to a concert by myself. And I want to show that I'm not a creep or a prick.
So now it's concert day. I'm excited. I tell her I can pick her up but she says to just meet me there. She doesn't want to ride with me. She doesn't say this, but it's obvious. She had no problem riding places with me before the incident but she doesn't want to be alone with me after it.
3 PM and its 5 hours to show time.
"I don't think I'll be able to make it. You can give my ticket to somebody else."
Sounds like she wasn't able to get Theo to be her bodyguard.
My first response was short because I was just pissed off. "Okay"
Then a few minutes pass and I let my anger subside slightly and let it turn to an apology. Something to the effect of "This is what happened. I am really sorry. I hope we can still be friends." but a little longer than that and with more explanation and trying to show I'm not a creep. I'm actually a really nice guy.
It only took four weeks and several apologies for her to finally confess that indeed I creeped her out and that I left several messages that were "Passionate and overwhelming." and she wasn't comfortable to be around me.
Passionate and overwhelming.
I know what she meant by this and I understand why that sounds alarming to her. I'm not going to lie though, my first reaction was to laugh. I mean, how amazing is it that I got so drunk that I left "passionate and overwhelming" voice messages to someone that I wasn't passionate about? I consider the possibility that the blacked out version of myself reached into the deep recesses of my mind for something that I didn't know was there, but in all likelihood I was just being a loving drunk. A passionate and overwhelming drunk.
After it had set in a little bit more I decided to let passionate and overwhelming become a badge of honor for myself. First of all, how much different are the two words? If one is to be passionate, than one may overwhelm others with that. Second of all, what's wrong with passion? What kind of a girl wouldn't want a guy with a little passion!
Okay, probably one who had only hung out with a guy a few times and apparently left very passionate voicemails, but I still take it as a point of pride. That's me: Passionate and Overwhelming and if you don't like it, nobody is asking you to buy it.
I was still very upset and the reason I was upset was not because Stacie was creeped out and decided not to go. The reason I was upset was because she lied to me for 3-4 weeks, treated me like a piece of scum, and decided only not to go when her bodyguard couldn't make it. Have some fucking balls and say right away "I don't feel comfortable" especially when I give you several opportunities to do so.
I apologize and feel stupid about coming off in the manner that I did, but I would have never done to anybody what she did to me. Especially since Stacie is an alcoholic and has probably done the exact same thing I did. If you want proof that I really am a nice guy and wouldn't do something like to my worst enemy (why am I going to a concert with my worst enemy?) how about this:
A few weeks after that there was a company related bus trip to a weekend event that would have over 100 people going. Seeing as she didn't know many people still, I did NOT expect Stacie to be there. My friend and I were sitting in the bus, just about to get going when sure as shit Stacie sits in the aisle ACROSS FROM US. Like, literally, 3 feet away from us is this chick who I have not spoken to since that day and really had no interest in ever speaking to again.
(Oh, my response to her text about passionate and overwhelming was basically like, "I really had no idea. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to creep you out. That's not how I feel about you. I honestly thought you were just becoming a cool friend. I'll delete your phone number if that makes you feel better." End of conversation.)
So there she sat, and I knew that she was uncomfortable and didn't know very many people. I didn't feel comfortable either and we had an hour and a half on this bus. So, did I move? Did I make her more uncomfortable so she would move?
Nope. I said Hello and offered her a beer. I made a peace offering. I still thought Stacie wasn't a very nice or forgiving person, but I am a forgiving person. And I cared more about whether or not she was uncomfortable than if I was uncomfortable. And I did owe her that. I owed her comfortability, because I did cross a line over the phone, even if I was drunk and whether I was joking around or not, I owed it to her. So this put us both at peace, and I could wash my hands of the whole situation.
The rest of the day went pretty well. Stacie, my friend, myself, and another co-worker hung out and had fun times. That day was perfect just as it was and I thought maybe I could at least look less creepy in the eyes of this person.
After that day, she tried to fuck my friend who was basically dating her only other friend at the company and it re-affirmed that she is a piece of shit. And not somebody I would want to be friends with. If she wanted to have friends in the city, she could have tried being a little more understanding about what I had done, but she chose not to do that. I have no idea how many friends she has right now. Maybe she has a ton, maybe she has more than me, maybe she has none. Sure, life isn't measured in how many friends you have, but in the quality of that friend.
I would like to think I'm a quality friend and that I have quality friends. She isn't, in my mind, much of a quality friend and will have a hard time making friends like that. It's too bad, because she is a fun person. Just needs to be more open and understanding and honest. And probably not try to fuck over every friend you make.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Oops
Seeing how fast I could drink a pint of jager was a bad idea.
Waking up to see the messages I sent to people, even going as far as deleting an online profile this morning because I couldn't face the shame.
All part of life. All something that will make a funny story. But damn, feeling silly right now.
Waking up to see the messages I sent to people, even going as far as deleting an online profile this morning because I couldn't face the shame.
All part of life. All something that will make a funny story. But damn, feeling silly right now.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Carmaggedon Outta Here
Tonight at 7 the busiest section of freeway in the US will be shutdown for the entire weekend and then some. What was once a situation that filled me with fear, has now become a moment of anticipation and excitement.
Nobody really knows what's going to happen this weekend or how people will react. Many people are being told to say at home, watch Netflix, drink inside with friends, and to not make any real plans. Los Angeles is the city with beaches, Hollywood, a vibrant (and dirty) downtown, foodies, and much more. If there's anything that a "true" LA person will tell you, it's that you shouldn't stay home on the weekends.
So many transplants, so many people who have lived here less than 5 years, exploration is the heart of LA. It's what causes the traffic to build up so quickly, frequently, and detrimentally. When real summer hits, and it finally has, Saturdays are filled with hundreds of thousands of people flocking westward to hit the beaches. Few other places in the continental United States off mile after mile of oceanside property, each one with something different to offer than the last.
From Santa Monica, to Hermosa, to Newport, there's so many places to go, to admire, to relax. It's the end results of what was already a stressful journey of the 10 and 405. Instead, the beachgoers will be beach-livers, and the travellers will have to find something to do in their 'burbs. Tom Hanks and Corey Feldman made the best of it, so can we?
This weekend they are showing Evil Dead 2 in Hollywood on the grass. Damn it, why now? This is exactly the kind of thing that would get me motivated to go to Hollywood, but no thanks. Instead, I'll enjoy the fruits of the 6-block radius surrounding my apartment. Margaritas on the porch will do me just fine.
I guess what I'm really curious about is how many people share that sentiment. Will LA, for one weekend, become Mardi Gras West? How many will flock to the streets, knowing that it could be a beautiful weekend, one not best spent inside?
I am sure it won't quite be like that, but could we get something close to that? I certainly hope so. Lord knows that this city, for all its activities, is void of charm. There's nothing charming about this city.
Don't get me wrong. I love that I can go see a UCB show for FREE. I love that I can be at the beach in 20 minutes or less. I love that I'm not living where I used to live, where they are having "the worst summer ever." But charming, this city is not.
Superficial and fake would probably better describe it. You can find genuine people, and I have, and I am grateful for that. But they are outnumbered. LA has millions of transplants, and usually the type of transplant they get is someone who is probably not widely missed by the town that they transplanted from.
"I want to be an actor and/or actress!"
"I want to be a hipster, even though I'm not a hipster, I swear, I'm not a hipster. You gonna drink that PBR?"
However for one weekend we are all in the same boat. We are all just rats trapped in a cage. For the first time it seems this city is pulling together, as if Battle: LA is actually happening, except that instead of aliens, we have construction workers tearing the roads apart. And hopefully, unlike Battle: LA, this doesn't completely suck.
Let's make the best of it, forget our differences, and for one weekend rather than being natives and transplants were all just commiserating rats.
Nobody really knows what's going to happen this weekend or how people will react. Many people are being told to say at home, watch Netflix, drink inside with friends, and to not make any real plans. Los Angeles is the city with beaches, Hollywood, a vibrant (and dirty) downtown, foodies, and much more. If there's anything that a "true" LA person will tell you, it's that you shouldn't stay home on the weekends.
So many transplants, so many people who have lived here less than 5 years, exploration is the heart of LA. It's what causes the traffic to build up so quickly, frequently, and detrimentally. When real summer hits, and it finally has, Saturdays are filled with hundreds of thousands of people flocking westward to hit the beaches. Few other places in the continental United States off mile after mile of oceanside property, each one with something different to offer than the last.
From Santa Monica, to Hermosa, to Newport, there's so many places to go, to admire, to relax. It's the end results of what was already a stressful journey of the 10 and 405. Instead, the beachgoers will be beach-livers, and the travellers will have to find something to do in their 'burbs. Tom Hanks and Corey Feldman made the best of it, so can we?
This weekend they are showing Evil Dead 2 in Hollywood on the grass. Damn it, why now? This is exactly the kind of thing that would get me motivated to go to Hollywood, but no thanks. Instead, I'll enjoy the fruits of the 6-block radius surrounding my apartment. Margaritas on the porch will do me just fine.
I guess what I'm really curious about is how many people share that sentiment. Will LA, for one weekend, become Mardi Gras West? How many will flock to the streets, knowing that it could be a beautiful weekend, one not best spent inside?
I am sure it won't quite be like that, but could we get something close to that? I certainly hope so. Lord knows that this city, for all its activities, is void of charm. There's nothing charming about this city.
Don't get me wrong. I love that I can go see a UCB show for FREE. I love that I can be at the beach in 20 minutes or less. I love that I'm not living where I used to live, where they are having "the worst summer ever." But charming, this city is not.
Superficial and fake would probably better describe it. You can find genuine people, and I have, and I am grateful for that. But they are outnumbered. LA has millions of transplants, and usually the type of transplant they get is someone who is probably not widely missed by the town that they transplanted from.
"I want to be an actor and/or actress!"
"I want to be a hipster, even though I'm not a hipster, I swear, I'm not a hipster. You gonna drink that PBR?"
However for one weekend we are all in the same boat. We are all just rats trapped in a cage. For the first time it seems this city is pulling together, as if Battle: LA is actually happening, except that instead of aliens, we have construction workers tearing the roads apart. And hopefully, unlike Battle: LA, this doesn't completely suck.
Let's make the best of it, forget our differences, and for one weekend rather than being natives and transplants were all just commiserating rats.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
Are "Deserve" and "Fair" Mutually Exclusive?
I am having a conversation with somebody who is being mostly a contrarian lately. Basically, anything I say, she is giving me the contrarian opinion. Its funny how relationships work out. In the beginning, its all "Yeah, yeah, I totally agree!" and then when the relationship takes a turn, its completely opposite "No, I think you are wrong. I don't believe that!"
That is the current phase of this quickly eroding relationship.
I told her that I used to believe that things you deserved were only given to you, but now I believe that sometimes you have to take what you deserved, and I'm going to start taking what I deserve.
"I don't believe in deserving or fairness."
While I agree that I don't believe in "fairness," a concept reserved for children, why can't I believe in "deserving"?
I am a nice person, a good person, and when certain things come around, I believe that they are deserving of my time and vice versa. If you get tickets to the super bowl and I don't get tickets to the super bowl, it's not because "That's not fair!" You probably have your tickets to the super bowl because you spent $3000. You may have very well deserved that.
Not necessarily, but I certainly don't deserve the tickets. Most scenarios in which I would buy tickets to the super bowl would be undeserving because I don't make enough money to buy tickets. I could save for a year. I could save a group of school children from a burning bus and the school could decide to send me to the super bowl. But mostly, if I went to the super bowl, it would be because I won a radio contest or a friend decided to take me. Those aren't deserving reasons, but they are reasons.
But how about in terms of relationships? Do I deserve certain people? I believe if you are rotten, you should get what you deserve, even if it doesn't usually work out that way. That's not about me saying "It's not fair that they are together!" it about me saying "Well, you probably deserve somebody better, but you make the choices you make."
I'm simply going to make better choices. Those people that don't deserve my time won't get my time. I suppose that if somebody gave me their time that I did not deserve, I would not turn them away by saying that they were making a bad decision, but I would appreciate the fact that I was spending time with somebody so great.
That's the way it should be, even if it is not "fair."
That is the current phase of this quickly eroding relationship.
I told her that I used to believe that things you deserved were only given to you, but now I believe that sometimes you have to take what you deserved, and I'm going to start taking what I deserve.
"I don't believe in deserving or fairness."
While I agree that I don't believe in "fairness," a concept reserved for children, why can't I believe in "deserving"?
I am a nice person, a good person, and when certain things come around, I believe that they are deserving of my time and vice versa. If you get tickets to the super bowl and I don't get tickets to the super bowl, it's not because "That's not fair!" You probably have your tickets to the super bowl because you spent $3000. You may have very well deserved that.
Not necessarily, but I certainly don't deserve the tickets. Most scenarios in which I would buy tickets to the super bowl would be undeserving because I don't make enough money to buy tickets. I could save for a year. I could save a group of school children from a burning bus and the school could decide to send me to the super bowl. But mostly, if I went to the super bowl, it would be because I won a radio contest or a friend decided to take me. Those aren't deserving reasons, but they are reasons.
But how about in terms of relationships? Do I deserve certain people? I believe if you are rotten, you should get what you deserve, even if it doesn't usually work out that way. That's not about me saying "It's not fair that they are together!" it about me saying "Well, you probably deserve somebody better, but you make the choices you make."
I'm simply going to make better choices. Those people that don't deserve my time won't get my time. I suppose that if somebody gave me their time that I did not deserve, I would not turn them away by saying that they were making a bad decision, but I would appreciate the fact that I was spending time with somebody so great.
That's the way it should be, even if it is not "fair."
Wednesday, July 13, 2011
Why am I doing this?
It occured to me recently that writing is something that I love to do. Okay, that realization wasn't all that recent, but perhaps it was a combination of being something that I loved to do and being something that I was good at was the epyphany.
I started writing for a sports blog not too long ago and quickly found some success. I could put words together on my thoughts and the end product didn't turn out too bad. Even though I have been writing random sports blogs for over six years, this was the first time I was given the opportunity to do it to an already formed and attentive audience... and they like it.
I thought that was pretty cool. It gave me a sense of confidence that I hadn't quite had before. When I was in college I took a screenwriting class and we had to share our scripts with the rest of the class. I didn't know exactly what I was doing, but it was the first time I was challenged to not only be creative, but to share it with a group of strangers. All I knew was that I had watched thousands of movies and that maybe I could do that too. I had written a short screenplay before titled "Cutting Class" (I didn't know at the time that this was already the name of an 80s horror movie starring Brad Pitt) but it's not like I shared it with anybody so I didn't know if it was good or not. I just thought it was a funny little script.
In the screenwriting class we were given assignments and then some of those scripts were shared with the class, whichever ones the teacher chose to share for good or bad reasons. I think in total there were 4 screenplays written throughout the course. This was the first time my writing would actually be seen by other people, but I wasn't exactly nervous. When I sat down and wrote those pages, they looked good to me. But of course I knew what I liked, and I just wrote what I liked. That doesn't mean anyone else will like them.
It turned out that the teacher liked what I had written and so do most of the rest of the class. As a kid, I never felt like the "star" of anything. I wasn't the good-looking jock, the super smart geek, or the popular class clown. Indeed, I was a class clown, but my peers didn't always appreciate my antics. I was more like the "class dick." I wasn't a bully by any means, but when the opportunity arose to say something that I was funny, I said it. And loud. Usually it would draw a few laughs from my group of friends, but mostly it landed me in the vice principals office.
But I didn't care. I didn't treat high school like a serious time in my life, and I would still agree with that statement. It's not a place you book learn as much as it is a place you life learn, and I learned a lot about life and who I was in high school. Perhaps I would do things differently, but that doesn't mean I regret them. By wanting to change who you are in the past, it allows you to form who you are in the future. I believe that I am a nice, considerate person now because I don't like looking back and seeing the person who I was back then. Not to say I was a total dickhead, but I interrupted the people who were seriously learning how to learn. I was still, in all reality, a pretty shy person. I used my loudness, my comedy, to cover up the fact that I was too self-conscious about the person I was on the inside.
Today I try to only use my comedy to make others laugh, and instead of doing it at their expense I will do it at my own expense. Making people laugh is what makes me happy and is probably my strongsuit in the relationships I form. All my years have so far led up to a person that feeds off of that entertainment value while learning how to make it non-detrimental to others. I often will sacrifice my humility to brighten another persons day. There are videos on the internet to prove it.
So now I sit here, rambling again, and trying to remember my original point. Oh, writing. Yes, I found out through all of that, that I was a pretty good writer. For the first time I was the "star" of something. And I am not full of myself by any means, there are more things I suck at than I am good at. But in my writing class, I knew I was great at something.
That led me to combine my love of sports with my love of writing and start to blog. Additionally, I have and still have a dream to write a screenplay that gets made into a movie. I can get into the trials and difficulties of that later, but writing is what I would love to do for a full-time job. To achieve the "dream" of loving what you do everyday.
One thing I had never really done though is just write my thoughts. I never had a journal and I rarely let my deep thoughts out of my head. How many of us do? I don't know many people that openly express the shit that they think everyday. Maybe because they find it irrelevant, maybe they're too scared to share, maybe and definitely there are a lot of reasons why not. But I felt that there were so many thoughts in my head, maybe some thoughts that I think others would agree with, that I needed to get out of my head. I needed to write them down and see how they looked on screen. (Feels weird to not say "on paper" but welcome to the new era where school kids aren't being taught handwriting anymore.)
I don't care if anyone ever reads this blog and I don't want anyone to really know who I am. I just need to say some things. I need to make some points. I need to get it out there just to satisfy myself. I am interested to see if anyone else out there agrees with what I'm saying, but if nobody ever does or ever reads this, that's just as fine. This isn't a blog about dogs that look like William Shatner, so I won't be surprised if nobody ever does. And I'm fine with that. I'm going to go look for dogs that look like Shatner now. Goodbye.
I started writing for a sports blog not too long ago and quickly found some success. I could put words together on my thoughts and the end product didn't turn out too bad. Even though I have been writing random sports blogs for over six years, this was the first time I was given the opportunity to do it to an already formed and attentive audience... and they like it.
I thought that was pretty cool. It gave me a sense of confidence that I hadn't quite had before. When I was in college I took a screenwriting class and we had to share our scripts with the rest of the class. I didn't know exactly what I was doing, but it was the first time I was challenged to not only be creative, but to share it with a group of strangers. All I knew was that I had watched thousands of movies and that maybe I could do that too. I had written a short screenplay before titled "Cutting Class" (I didn't know at the time that this was already the name of an 80s horror movie starring Brad Pitt) but it's not like I shared it with anybody so I didn't know if it was good or not. I just thought it was a funny little script.
In the screenwriting class we were given assignments and then some of those scripts were shared with the class, whichever ones the teacher chose to share for good or bad reasons. I think in total there were 4 screenplays written throughout the course. This was the first time my writing would actually be seen by other people, but I wasn't exactly nervous. When I sat down and wrote those pages, they looked good to me. But of course I knew what I liked, and I just wrote what I liked. That doesn't mean anyone else will like them.
It turned out that the teacher liked what I had written and so do most of the rest of the class. As a kid, I never felt like the "star" of anything. I wasn't the good-looking jock, the super smart geek, or the popular class clown. Indeed, I was a class clown, but my peers didn't always appreciate my antics. I was more like the "class dick." I wasn't a bully by any means, but when the opportunity arose to say something that I was funny, I said it. And loud. Usually it would draw a few laughs from my group of friends, but mostly it landed me in the vice principals office.
But I didn't care. I didn't treat high school like a serious time in my life, and I would still agree with that statement. It's not a place you book learn as much as it is a place you life learn, and I learned a lot about life and who I was in high school. Perhaps I would do things differently, but that doesn't mean I regret them. By wanting to change who you are in the past, it allows you to form who you are in the future. I believe that I am a nice, considerate person now because I don't like looking back and seeing the person who I was back then. Not to say I was a total dickhead, but I interrupted the people who were seriously learning how to learn. I was still, in all reality, a pretty shy person. I used my loudness, my comedy, to cover up the fact that I was too self-conscious about the person I was on the inside.
Today I try to only use my comedy to make others laugh, and instead of doing it at their expense I will do it at my own expense. Making people laugh is what makes me happy and is probably my strongsuit in the relationships I form. All my years have so far led up to a person that feeds off of that entertainment value while learning how to make it non-detrimental to others. I often will sacrifice my humility to brighten another persons day. There are videos on the internet to prove it.
So now I sit here, rambling again, and trying to remember my original point. Oh, writing. Yes, I found out through all of that, that I was a pretty good writer. For the first time I was the "star" of something. And I am not full of myself by any means, there are more things I suck at than I am good at. But in my writing class, I knew I was great at something.
That led me to combine my love of sports with my love of writing and start to blog. Additionally, I have and still have a dream to write a screenplay that gets made into a movie. I can get into the trials and difficulties of that later, but writing is what I would love to do for a full-time job. To achieve the "dream" of loving what you do everyday.
One thing I had never really done though is just write my thoughts. I never had a journal and I rarely let my deep thoughts out of my head. How many of us do? I don't know many people that openly express the shit that they think everyday. Maybe because they find it irrelevant, maybe they're too scared to share, maybe and definitely there are a lot of reasons why not. But I felt that there were so many thoughts in my head, maybe some thoughts that I think others would agree with, that I needed to get out of my head. I needed to write them down and see how they looked on screen. (Feels weird to not say "on paper" but welcome to the new era where school kids aren't being taught handwriting anymore.)
I don't care if anyone ever reads this blog and I don't want anyone to really know who I am. I just need to say some things. I need to make some points. I need to get it out there just to satisfy myself. I am interested to see if anyone else out there agrees with what I'm saying, but if nobody ever does or ever reads this, that's just as fine. This isn't a blog about dogs that look like William Shatner, so I won't be surprised if nobody ever does. And I'm fine with that. I'm going to go look for dogs that look like Shatner now. Goodbye.
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