I Stood Alone

I’m no stranger to shenanigans. I wake up every morning and try to figure out how I’m going to be fucked over on a daily basis, and for good reason: shit happens. I am guaranteed quicksand in lieu of dominating my scholastic life. So, it came as no surprise that I had been victimized by identity theft/credit fraud.

Well, it did, but who am I kidding? It was bound to happen eventually. My finances have been incredibly fucked as of late, due to unforeseen circumstances. Oddly, none of them were my fault. Both credit cards are used solely for food and fuel, so anything random is not mine. When I saw three charges for $40, I couldn’t help looking confused, because none of them had “Shell Oil” attached. I called one card, and they promptly started investigating. This was fortunate, because the charges put my card over the limit, leaving me in a massive crunch. The second card was lost (and not just in my car for once), so I was treated to a call at 3:20am asking if I knew what was happening. At that hour, the only thing I knew was that I wasn’t sleeping for a few, so I did my best to follow instructions. In short, I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place, but I trust everything will be settled in a couple of days. Yet, despite what was happening, those were secondary on my list of concerns…

Car registration is due, and I have the money. Well, I have the money if I pay what I should be paying and not an additional $82 fee for a ticket I paid last year. I had to go through hell and high water to get it cleared, but it’s settled after a week of raising hell. I do not mind paying my debt to society, but I mind paying it and not receiving credit. With that said, if a person presents overwhelming proof that it was paid (a bank statement and check copy for argument’s sake), it should be cleared. A clerical error on the part of the processing center should not cost me more money than necessary. Anyhow, I convinced them to fix it after bitching and threatening to take half of the campus in a lawsuit.

In lighter news, I’m rocking both of my classes with reckless abandon. I’ll be departing this summer session with at least a 3.75, and I’m filing for one more hell semester in the fall. Victory shall be mine, and that will eventually include financial stability. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Eminem feat. Dr. Dre “Old Time’s Sake”

Screeching Brakes

I haven’t taken a true vacation in approximately three years. Off and on, I’ve said that I’ll take a couple days off and drive somewhere to get away from the world. However, the closest I came to this was going to CSU San Marcos with Jordan to check out what grad schools had to offer. I’ll admit, it was refreshing to spend a day with fresh air, no work, and my best friend offering snippets of cynicism. I do intend to celebrate my undergraduate-graduate transition by spending one week south of the border, because I enjoyed my time thoroughly. Particularly, Guadalajara sounds nice, due to this special I watched on HBO earlier today. If correct, that city has the kinkiest, friskiest women in the world. I’m down for both of those attributes and coming back Stateside with a friend who will probably never leave. And by friend, I do mean progressive disease of the sexual variety.

School and work are in the same categories of progressing well and depressing well. School has been a walk in the park, as neither class has given me problems. I thought POSC 300 would be a bummer, but I guess the condensed version does not allow for students to stress out. Case in point: there was a midterm that I encountered under unfavorable circumstances: late and unprepared. However, I aced it, and I like my chances on a literature review I half-assed. COMM 337 with Dr. McCroskey isn’t too shabby either, seeing that she loves me, and I love easy classes. Did I really need a course on persuasive speaking? Yes, due to my concentration option. However, I’m not learning anything that I didn’t glean from studying Hitler’s speeches. There was a humor conference that provided little humor…I think it deserves a paragraph.

The conference was scheduled early, so I had to wake up early. Small aside, I’ve had early rooster calls this week, and I do not approve of them. One was for picking a new dorm room for the fall, because I could not get the same room as last year. However, my alternate (and first) choice was available, so I’m happy and alone in August. As mentioned earlier, the conference was early…and painful. There was little comedy, except for a conservative Brit saying JFK had a case of permanent clap. My immature side reared its head and…well, I’m still chuckling to myself. I was shuttered into the “Race and Humor” panel, and it was predictable. I’ll sum of my view as succinctly as possible: get past the racist overtones, or they will kill you. I get that racism is hurtful, but there is little need to dwell on it. I took the time to ask out a classmate who subsequently rebuffed my advances. I followed her to the stand-up comedy hour later that night, and was largely unimpressed. Jokes are supposed to be funny. I tried to enter, but the organizer told me I missed the deadline. It’s a damn shame, because I would have crushed the competition.

Work depresses me and I’ll soon have another job. That way, I can do another 22 units at school!

Shockingly enough, I think I’ve gone conservative. Not politically at least, but I’m questioning how my mother raises my niece. She’s not raising her wrong, per se, but I disagree with a couple of things that I probably should ignore, since it’s not my child. Maybe I’m too concerned with how globalization is going to affect the future, and I push the kid as hard as I push myself. Noble, but her, not my fight.

Mom and I are on the outs again, and I feel myself coming closer and closer to calling her an idiot, a fucking moron, or something like that. I try not to come across as an intellectual, but shit, it happens. I can’t change the way I was taught, and people will never forgive you for what you know or what you’ve learned. My sister got drunk and took a few jabs at me on my mother’s birthday, and I’m…tired of people with inferiority complexes. I don’t care if I’m smarter than most, because by my grounds, I do not have anything until I get the Emperor’s Robe. When PhD is thrown behind my name, then I’m smarter than everyone else. Until then, I’m not going to say I’m humble (not true), but it’s an afterthought. This scowl I wear has nothing to do with other people, because my success is the only thing I care about, and for good reason: it’s the only thing I can influence.

Well, my sister reprised what my sister said, and again, it pissed me off. Of course, my mother is not a raging failure like my sister, so I could not play that card. However, I did have a couple of points I wanted to address, and she ignored them. Despite popular belief, I do have feelings. Particularly, a nod of approval would have been nice when I took my niece on a road trip; as well, I took a course in conflict resolution to have a better relationship with her. See, I’m not oblivious to my faults, and thus, ethos for my feelings. When they are marginalized, I am not happy. She marginalized my feelings again, therefore marginalizing me as a person. She then proceeded to lecture me on how I said “okay, I’ll get to it.” I answered affirmatively, positively, and she took offense. I feel a lot of these parents walking around are so fucking scared of being rendered obsolete by their children that it’s troubling. I had no problem refilling the water cooler, and I did just that. However, she didn’t like how I said it. I don’t like being ignored when I’m saying hello. I don’t like being painted as uncaring when I’m really distracted. I don’t like being told for years that I’m going to abandon my sole provider when I’m famous because my wife thinks my mother nags too much. Granted, shit like this is an excuse to have a retirement home option, and if anyone asks, it’s because she voted Yes on 8. I feel (and KNOW) my sister has done much worse, so I’m not seeing the logic here. I tutored out of respect, and got thrown under the bus. I didn’t laugh at myself, and got thrown out the house. I make a comparison, and it drives her wild. The logic she uses is flawed…like an idiot, a fucking moron, or something like that.

Continuing, I’ve said it before: do not throw your religion at me. Quite frankly, I don’t want to hear about it. If you have faith, good for you, talk to your other friends who have faith, but by all means, do not discuss it with me. I’ve heard Jesus was going to get me for years because I did small stuff that tweaked my mother. As far as I’m concerned, it’s plenty easier to live life without thinking there’s an angry deity on your tail. I treat the subject with utmost prejudice, because there is no right answer, but there are plenty of wrong ones. Particularly to my mother, I’m happy it makes you happy, but if I don’t lecture you on why I like hair bleach, keep your crucifix in your purse.

The really confusing shit is when she still asks me to do stuff, like nothing happened. I harbor grudges, which are probably unhealthy, but they cause me no lost sleep, only moments. But to put a smile on my face, I’ll help myself a bit by attending Anime Expo, going back to dance, and in two months, starting over in D building. This time around, I’ll debate whether I want my room to be blessed, because I like to err towards luck, which happens to be for losers. And I should probably get my brakes fixed. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Coldplay “Viva la Vida” (Thin White Duke Mix)

Whiskey Before Class

Did the good boy go bad, a la Rihanna? No, I did not. I’m a big fan of awkward situations, and there are few situations that rival taking a Dr. McCroskey course while loaded with whiskey. I overcame my previous drunk deficiency of talking about American foreign policy, so I feel moderately gifted; however, I now center on the novelty of being inebriated at the time. I don’t intend on making a habit out of what I did, but it provided entertainment since I was installed as the captain of a lackluster group. Out of all the possibilities for groups, I was stuck with the least attractive girls in the course. I smell bullshit, but I’ll retire, due to the fact I will be getting a pleasing grade.

Work is work, but I’d like to find a better job that…well, same old song and dance. But more or less, I want a better direction for the fall. I’m teetering on joining the salsa team, taking 22 units, and er, whatever other option comes up. I liken my situation to Randy Johnson when he won the World Series as a Diamondback. The guy who called the game, probably Joe Buck, said something along the lines of “Randy Johnson on the mound, staring at the batter and his future, wondering how many more times he’ll have this opportunity…” That was poignant, because the guy was old and pitched his ass off to get to the title round. He just won his 300th game this week, and has only one ring. There are people who have done far less than he has, yet have multiple rings. It’s a cruel irony, and that’s where I see myself now.

Part of my introspection hangs on the rediscovery of my past. Through the wonders of the Internet, I see people who I have long forgotten, but somewhat reconnected with because of curiosity. Some have moved on, became more successful; other have drifted away, succumbing to their vices or parenthood. They all have a direction, a life…something that I seek. I can’t necessarily complain about my situation, because I’ve still kept myself in remarkable standing through years of discipline, and all I need is one letter next spring to validate my suffering. Yet I see their pictures, and wonder, how the hell did I end up on a mound trying to beat the Yankees in Game 7 of the World Series?

I don’t even like baseball enough to have that fantasy. If it mentioned that I’ve had a one week hiatus from dancing due to lingering depression, that’d be normal. It’d also be accurate…but baseball metaphors befuddle me. What have I become? Surely, I’m not being greedy; maybe pining for Air Force Amy is a bit much, but I’d take just about any girl as a capable substitute. Next stop, Victorville…and possibly returning to the dance floor to polish the old moveset. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Sick Puppies “You’re Going Down”