The Company I Keep

In exactly one week, I’ll be on a plane flying eastward towards Tennessee, where I’ll pray that my layover ends quickly enough for me to be transported to Florida. More accurately, Moxley Ambrose, a Boston-cum-Cape Town apartheid supporting terrorist will be going to Miami alongside Donnie Donovan and Manchester Evans. He’ll be something of a renaissance man, if not completely batshit crazy. His backstory is quite amazing, having been raised in South Africa before being exiled to America, attending two of the finest law schools before getting thrown out for sociopath tendencies, now spending time at the University of Chicago Law School. It’s really a shame since he enjoyed Boalt Hall and Harvard Law, but his brand of conservatism couldn’t be tolerated. This will be his last vacation before gearing up for the 2012 election, where his support of Rick Santorum might have to cede victory to Mitt Romney.

But, before Miami, there’s a bit of shopping and general housekeeping. The last few weeks (two years, honestly) have taken a toll on me. The whole tussle with Blondie a couple of weeks ago made me reconsider my priorities. I’ve never been any good at dating, despite my best intentions. Either I rub girls the wrong way (figuratively and literally), or my shallowness takes over. I only ask for two things out of a girl I’m interested in: conversation and original working girl parts. I can admit to saying that most girls qualify under the latter, but the first has been a tough obstacle. I tend to attract the crazies which makes conversation bearable, but at the end of the day, interesting doesn’t equal completion. As commentators in sports declare, do not mistake activity for progress. I’ve been on quite a few meetings in the last few months, and the vibes just haven’t been right. Except for one who still loves her ex, and we haven’t spoken since that development. What’s more troubling is that there have been feelings involved, but they weren’t mutual on my end. Hence, I’ve spent time analyzing Leonard and Dr. Stephanie Barrett’s relationship from The Big Bang Theory. Leonard learned that although he was lonely, someone being in love with you doesn’t mean you have to love someone back. Coming to that conclusion was something I didn’t enjoy, since I don’t like thinking about or acknowledging I have a heart. I’m much more comfortable in my own skin as a soulless robot. It’s just my preference, since having a heart leaves you vulnerable to attack.

Such as when I went to the mall for pink knee socks. Yes, it’ll match my Dolph Ziggler shirt. Back before things went badly two years ago, I took Pippa to the mall because I wanted to get her a penguin from Build-A-Bear. They didn’t have any penguins, so that idea was nixed. We still walked around arm-in-arm, and stopped in front of Brookstone. I kid you not, I stood in front of the store and relived the scene from two years ago. She told me the other girl I had a crush on liked one of my friends, which ended a moral dilemma for me since I was trying to choose between the two. When she told me the news, I called my friend, told her to pursue another girl, and well, the rest is history. I thought it was funny seeing my chubby self scurry from the store, place the obscenity-laden call, then decide to go to Victoria’s Secret. If I recall, I bought her three undergarments: lime green, pink and yellow, and black. Yep, I do recall. I’ve wondered why I didn’t frequent Del Amo much in the last two years: it brought back memories. I was depressed for the rest of my trip. Every sight triggered a memory, like I could hear the conversations and speak with ghosts. My memory works too well.

I relived the last time I was dating someone, and I haven’t truly dated anyone since. I guess I am still torn up over things, and what I’m doing now isn’t exactly productive, but it works. A friend’s wedding is Sunday, and I’ll be attending alone, as expected. So many of my friends are committed, talking marriage, having kids, et cetera. I’m practically stagnant, and it sucks. Coincidentally, today is the four year anniversary of when I got canned from Starbucks, and I’ve since yet to have a workplace where chaos was the norm, and management wasn’t the problem. These thoughts reside behind a pair of glasses with rhinestone crosses on the frames. No more heart, just being cool. And mildly offensive. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Flo Rida “Good Feeling”

Gunning

Greed is the root of all evil. Or so said the opening of Mortal Kombat 3, if I’m correct. The more things change, the more things stay the same. That’s not from Mortal Kombat, but that’s apt for what I’m thinking at the moment. I’m not one for people prying into my thoughts, because it’s hard as sin for anyone to do it correctly. Yes, that includes myself. Luckily for me, the people around me give me fodder for my thoughts.

I’ve been clear on how I feel about the grad school experience; it was a pain in the ass, and probably ended horribly to teach me a lesson on how to survive. As for my classmates, I wasn’t a fan of a couple of them since I found out my academic history was hacked, and the other was dumb enough to try to tell me how to think. I’ll never forget her saying that me hating her is wrong. No, you making me want to hate you is wrong. No one hates anyone organically; they must be taught to hate. And I’m not going to glorify hate, but I’d be lying if I said the world would be better off with everyone loving each other unconditionally. That is not a possible outcome. Back to the point, one of my classmates defended his thesis and celebrated at a tavern. I didn’t tell people I was showing up, so I arrived unannounced, but heralded. I haven’t seen those folks in three months, and I had a blast mingling among my former contemporaries. I still don’t know whether it’s proper for me to denote them as “former” seeing as I’m still considered one of them, just not enrolled. We drank. We joked. We showed improper photos on our smartphones. Alright, the last one was me, but still, it was hilarious. What have I been doing all this time since I’ve been away? Getting ass, he said bluntly. Same asshole, same humor, just half the size. Grad school was a social experiment that rubbed me the wrong way. Still, my forced family was the best group I could’ve asked for, knowing my luck with the alternative. Speaking of old people getting in contact with me…

Skylar sent me a message, which led to a 40 minute conversation. Again, don’t hate the guy. He was a brother to me. I just did not appreciate his tendency of running. I interpreted his running as a sign of cowardice, and it’ll probably take some convincing to brainwash me otherwise. We all have hard times. Hell, I’ve had harder times than most of my friends combined. Scratch that, all of my friends. But I never dug a spider hole for myself; I faced it, and let everyone know that I’m not doing well. But the fences are mended, and he may or may not return to salsa. I’d be happy if he came around, yet I’m at peace with a different outcome. I think Bill Parcells said it best when he says “you are who you are.” I can’t expect people to change because I haven’t changed. It’s just that my way of doing business is better. Or so I tell everyone else.

As for my personal life, I could laugh. And then laugh some more. Screw it, I’ve got Miami coming up. I promise not to deal with anything remotely consequential until after I return. Which means there’s a chance I’d ignore it after I return, because the more I think about things, the more I laugh. I had high hopes three months ago when life began again. Three months later in the present, and I can tell there’s definitely been some change. Not as smooth as I wanted, or convenient as I needed. Yet word on the street is that I’ve calmed the hell down by turning my personality way the hell up. I know what I want. I know what I must do to get there. And I’ll take care of that after Miami because I’m feeling lazy. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Katy Perry “E.T.”

Protecting the Brand

Next month, I’ll be celebrating a painful anniversary. Long story short, met a girl, fell in love, somehow ended up in court on opposing sides, and my Second Amendment right was suspended for three years. But history and my appreciation of Kill Bill stops me from wanting guns, so it wasn’t the biggest blow in the history of my existence. The damage was more mental than physical; it only bugs me if I consider talking to another girl, or if a cop decides to pull me over for driving a spiffy car. Oh, and I know I’m breaking the fourth wall. Colt Cabana, how ya doing?

Even though I’d like to believe that my words are good enough to spread to the masses, I understand that I have a very limited audience. After all, I’m not famous enough to command the great following I so richly deserve. Yet, I still wonder what some people think after reading my musings. Oddly enough, I know that Pippa reads this…and somehow gained me a whole new audience! How so? By slandering me here via Reddit.

http://www.reddit.com/r/LetsNotMeet/comments/oonnf/my_salsaing_stalker/

Yep, I’m glad these blogs have a tracker, or else I might not be hipped to such developments. I have to say, I’m a bit hurt and a bit relieved. A couple of comments were demeaning, but the other few comments hedged towards the truth. One person defended me while saying the only sin I’m guilty of is being full of myself. Of course, that makes me giggle. Me, full of myself? I’m the humblest braggart I know. But, I started thinking about the crux of why I care. I’d be lying to say I don’t think about what transpired. In fact, before I head to Miami in a couple weeks, I’ll check my phone to see if someone wants to talk, like I did two years ago before Phoenix. In my heart, this is still a love story that deserves a proper ending.

But in my mind, I still want to know why this hasn’t ended. I know I hadn’t let go, despite my desire to do so. But I figured she’d be more interested in leaving the memories alone. Don’t change a thing. The way it is…it’s the way it has to be. If that’s how Fuel’s song went. Unfortunately, I don’t quite know what she posted, which I can’t interpret is a good thing or a bad thing. Is it better I don’t know? Who knows. But it is pathetic how things turned out, and how they’re still unfolding. Going public with her claims of me being a stalker would’ve been brilliant…if it was true and she had substantiating evidence. But no, not the case. I’m reminded of The Riddler’s epic line from Batman Forever: for if knowledge is power, THEN A GOD AM I. That sounded so much better when I pictured myself in green hissing it from a chair shaped like a question mark. The younger, overweight me would probably think better about public warfare. However, I’m older, thinner, and delightful. Naturally, the only thing on my mind is Sonic Generations. The main idea here is that even in the worst situations, we all have a responsibility to The Horseshoe. Protect the brand at all costs, and hope it’s enough in the face of an onslaught. If not? Herm Edwards said the reason we play is to win the game. Or get the girl. Find respect. Rewrite the past. Reclaim the future. Solidify the present.

I’ll end this entry simply asking: who’s stalking who?

Current Track – Jim Sturgess “Something”