Conservative Problems

Yesterday, I went through a bunch of hate mail I’ve received over the years. I can say the fights have been one-sided. Sure, I dislike some of the people I argue with, but I become more hated by the sheer virtue of my personality being what it is. Namely, my goal is to irritate you until you’ve reached irrationality. In the process, I’ve subliminally made you question your own worth while not overtly communicating my thoughts on your uselessness. Unless it is one of the few times where you’ve angered me to the point of hissing a terse insult. Ooh, glad I don’t have a lisp, or that last sentence would be a doozy. The notes I’ve read have been a mix of both, but the most frightening discovery is how little I care about the people I’ve met/defeated/eviscerated and the like. That has to be the most effective way to break someone’s spirit: by letting them know (passively) that they cease to exist. Sometimes, they don’t have to negatively antagonize me to write someone off. Sometimes, you just have to shoot the shaggy dog with hollow point bullets, even if you’re morally opposed to guns.

I didn’t mention my salsa birthday, but overall, I can say that I deserved far less. I don’t know what I did to earn a community’s respect, but I have a feeling that my years of loyal service played a major part. Anyhow, some expected people didn’t show up (boo?) and some unexpected people did (yay?), which created a different dynamic. One person from the latter category was the cause for a bit of ouch was Victoria. She of “Anthony nearly became Catholic” fame. I won’t say we ended on bad terms in the traditional sense, but I decided she died when Fat Anthony died. When alerted to her presence, I promptly told the messenger “good, keep her away from me.” She was there with her boyfriend on my home wood. She’s far from a regular there, as I’ve in turn avoided the club that she frequents. I can’t figure out why she was there, but I can be a bit of a narcissist and say that she was there to celebrate my birthday. Again, very nice girl, but I’m not a fan of the past. If we didn’t have history, who knows, she might have found me to be a pervert like the rest of the world. Quick tangent: my first time at a 21+ club, I hit on her after multiple tequila shots, and that’s how history began. Ooh, epic. But back to present day, I made it clear I didn’t want to see her, and I can say that any contact was deliberately avoided. However, I was chastised for my “immature” behavior, only because the messenger wanted to see me “happy.” Because he put in the “same effort” into pursuing her that I did.

One, you never tell someone how to feel about another person if there’s bad karma. It’d be different if I had an opinion about a stranger, but this was someone who I was very close to, so I have an accurate character profile. She’s not a bad person; I still want her out of my presence. Two, “immature” behavior would be telling her and her boyfriend to kiss my ass. Which isn’t something I’d do, but I would have most likely had my way with her on the dance floor and called her boyfriend a bitch if he couldn’t keep up with my moves. Which…is a given. I’m awesome. Third, my way makes me “happy” because it is my way. See #1 above. Four, you didn’t put in the same effort, pal; if it wasn’t for me gambling on a freshman, you would have never gotten close to her. And no, you never took her out, while she was on my arm for a couple months. Don’t compare yourself to me, because we have very different paths. Your claim to fame from that party was “I reminded him to flush the toilet beforehand”; my claim to fame from that party was…”I was the party.” You gave me a clean toilet; I gave you a makeout buddy. Fair trade, isn’t it?

Leads to another story: vacation planning. I’m going to my first salsa festival in Palm Springs, and my presumed roommate made plans. Now, I went to WrestleMania in Miami this year, and I ran into problems with booking the trip that should not have happened. I get antsy when it comes to trips in the same way I got antsy during group projects: I can pull my own slack, but I don’t necessarily trust others to hold their end of the bargain. Reason being? People suck, particularly with deadlines. So, I told him that I was going to book the room, and next thing you know, I hear a litany of personal/financial problems. I don’t care about those trivial matters. If you make a commitment, I expect you to keep it; if you can’t, no hard feelings, but you will not be sharing the same itinerary. Being friends doesn’t mean failing at common sense; business is business. Money isn’t the most important thing in the world, but my encounters with people who owe me money and haven’t paid back makes me very skeptical about future interactions. But alas, as I’ve said, if I pay for room without immediate reimbursement, then someone has a single room! A bit pricier, but I will not be bothered. And that’s all that matters…right? Right! On another note, whatever happened to punching back if someone’s terrorizing you? If I felt a person was undermining me, I’m sure I’d call them out on it. Especially if I felt that person was treating me like his/her bitch. My response to the charge was “you can’t be my bitch; my bitches usually *do* stuff”. Yes, I’ve mastered the art of the backhanded insult. But you can’t really fault me for instigating, since I am always entertained by the results. But eh, there’s no ground for you to stand on if a) you can’t come up with a plausible defense/excuse and b) if you show up to a venue and you don’t participate in the socially acceptable actions at said venue. I may be wrong, but I doubt it.

In case you’re wondering where does karma come back and bite me in the ass, the girl who I was interested in was seen kissing her ex-boyfriend. Twice. By me. Oh yeah, I love girls with flaws. Skibbebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Thousand Foot Krutch “War of Change”


No Days Off

I don’t take many days off. Unless you’re counting the time since I last went to work…then I’ve taken quite a few days off. And it feels good. However, that perspective is coming to an end. After all, as of a few days ago, I’m 24 years of age. I need to focus on the real world. You know, a job, furthering my education, a place of my own, consistent ass. You know, the things that most well-adjusted adults seek.

I’m not sure where buying flamboyant pants come into play, but you should definitely see my pants. They scream “SEEING IS BELIEVING!”

It’s part of my new outlook: The War on Awesome. No, I’m not fighting against Awesome; I’m the last person fighting for Awesome. The reason I came to this conclusion is that I’m the only person I know that pushes the envelope on a regular basis. I’ve been told that if I didn’t develop the appropriate tendencies, I’d be crucified by others. Sure enough, while dancing with a girl, my hands can travel as if I was on vacation. Another guy pulled the same stunt, I called him on it, and the girl shot him a disturbing look. For my public birthday, I wore the shiniest pair of pants (aptly called “disco pants”) ever seen on the dance floor, civilian or performer. And yet, I wore them without hesitation. I’m showing the world that there are no days off (offseason) on the journey to greatness. Or whatever Wrestling’s Greatest Tag Team’s shirt said.

The reason for this is an extension of not being satisfied with the effort around me. People not paying their debts. People making excuses. People not honoring commitments. In short, people operating in bad faith. And the people I’m talking about are my friends, the people I choose to be around. There comes a time when baby steps become nothing more than a talking point. Being tired isn’t an excuse to not succeed. Being fatigued isn’t an excuse to sit out. We make time for things we want to do, and the things we don’t, there are excuses. I’d be perfectly happy with people admitting their faults instead of being…thespians. Not saying I’m perfect, but I’m closer to Awesome than others care to admit. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – John Laurinaitis “Fanfare to the Rule”