Starchitect

What job can you get as a communication major without any relevant training? Architect. The answer’s architect.

Or at least, that’s what I’m telling everyone. While it’s true that my job has some architectural leanings, I’m not an architect. Hell, most of the people there probably aren’t architects. But we do quite a bit of fabrication, and by quite a bit, I mean the job is totally fabrication. I’ve been there a week, and I can say I like the environment. Pay’s better than I asked for, hours are favorable, and…well, there’s nothing politically correct about the office. I don’t know how long I’ll stay there, but I’d be comfortable there for a few years if need be. There’s something special about being in an environment where I may not be the most offensive person in the building. That said, I am going to need to learn Spanish. There’s no way in hell I’ll be able to survive otherwise.

And here’s the part of the entry that bugs me. I’m making money now for the first time in over a year, and generally have the freedom to do as I wish. Yet, being single still gets to me. Talked to a friend who said we had the same conversation six years ago. Despite the annoyance factor, I can appreciate that I’m remarkably consistent. Although being consistently single isn’t something I’m proud of…damn it, I mindfucked myself again. I do hate having this conversation. I’d much rather win and be done with it. But eh, life’s not that simple. Ironically, I think the job was the way of the universe saying “sorry for the shitty lovelife.” Sure, I can buy all the pants, shirts, and belts that I want. Wait…I mean regular belts, I have all the title belts I want…but that’s not the point. I hate getting drilled about waiting for the right thing to come along, being too aggressive, being too passive, it isn’t my time. Et cetera. Et al. I foresee a lengthy absence from friends outside of wrestling. Let me rephrase that; I foresee a lengthy absence from salsa. Fuck the seven years I spent dominating. Last night, I went dancing specifically to meet a particular girl, who didn’t show up. So, I got dressed up, put on my stripes, title belt, the whole nine, only to be alerted that she wouldn’t be there. I promptly left since I had a goal in mind, and that goal went unfulfilled. I get crap from people about where I stand with my friends and the scene in general. The thing is, I’ve always had the same core group of friends for years. The same two knuckleheads from high school who I occasionally would like to put a bullet in, but my limited to average interaction with them keeps me satisfied. Salsa’s a bonus. I don’t necessarily have any lingering compulsion to go dancing when being around people makes me uneasy. My departure last night was quick as it should have been because the goal should always comes first. Winning before all else. Some people don’t understand why I fixate on the most banal of minutiae. There certainly are easier ways to go about finding a significant other. I’ve read about them in history class…and I also read about harder ones. The things is, I’m prepared to go to any lengths to succeed. And if I fail, then I resign myself to that fate.

For those who believe, no explanation is necessary; for those who do not believe, no explanation will suffice.

Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track – Neon Trees “Everybody Talks”

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Realism

Heroes are only as good as their villains. That means if you are anywhere near me, you will automatically become the best hero around. You know, if you can actually beat me.

A couple of weeks ago, I pulled a great scam. I decided to use my trip to Arizona to make people realize how much they love me. Was it an attention ploy? Nah, I’m definitely secure enough in my own skin that public adulation means nothing to me. It makes me wonder: what gets me off? Guessing from the porous reaction of sympathy, grief, and abandonment, I guess that’s what gets me off. In my friends’ defense, the web I spun was quite believable. If I was to abandon my home for a fresh start, very few, if any would know. I’d even manage to pack up my stuff at home without my mother realizing I’m leaving. As for the spiritual journey of returning to Arizona, I think it moderately well. The first time I was there, life was about to take a turn for the worst. In fact, hours after touching down at the university, shit happened. Three years later, I’m hoping the bad juju has dissipated. I want to be happy again; if it took me driving six hours east to reverse my fortunes, then I’ll take that trip any day of the week. While convincing others that somehow, I ran off to Arizona State University on a whim. Hashtag you were all trolled.

Leveraging friendships to my advantage is another trait I have. Such as getting three letters of recommendation in 24 hours when the deadline is three days away. I’m sure I’m going to hell for the things I’ve done. I don’t think I particularly mind at this point. Skibbedebebop. Much later.

Current Track -The Shield “Special Op”