Oh my God!!! I walked into work today and was welcomed by a horde of children climbing all over the place, screaming their heads off. And no, I don't work at a restaurant with a giant mouse mascot walking around serving pizza.
Apparently parents in Mexico go by the whole, "I'll just ignore my screaming child and he/she will realize that making wild, piercing noises, that can make a brain explode, won't get my attention" philosophy. Seriously, I was unaware that the human vocal cords could make such horrific sounds. I've never been more in favor of beating children.
You know when you leave a rock concert and your ears won't stop ringing? They say that the particular tone you hear, that constant hum, you won't ever hear again. I thought this was complete rubbish before today. There is no other way to explain the parent's complete ability to ignore their devil children for so long. Their brain simply must not register that sound anymore.
It is fairly well know; children and I don't go together well. Once they have their own personalities I'm good, but before then I can't do much more than stare at them as they wait for me to perform a trick or something. These kids today though were something completely different. The movie Children of Men seems like a good idea now. They had the whole store scrambling for ear plugs. For more than thirty minutes they cleared the building of any hearing customers.
Before I write anything let me say something; I've been up watching a movie and drinking a rather cheap bottle of wine by myself. I have a rule of never deleting posts from my blog. Hopefully this one turns out alright and I don't have to go back and do some editing tomorrow.
I've had a few people ask why I even bother writing on my blog. It's not like a whole ton of people read it or its on anything deeply meaningful. Some people say they write for themselves; if that was the case the blog would have a password on it and nobody would be able to get to the site. I think like most people who write a blog, I'm trying to put something that lasts and is somewhat meaningful or has some kind of impact on others. Along with writing I paint. A small group of people in the world have this eager to create something beyond themselves and that extends past their own circles. I guess I fall into that group.
This site is a small part of me. I've had many friends and family members, who know me personally, state that my writing sounds like me, like something I would say. In literary terms, I have a strong voice in my writing. Even the technical writing I do in sociology has a piece of me in it, and readers have picked up on it. This journal of small, short commentary is probably the best way of getting to know me in a quick time frame. By writing on the web I'm able to leave something of myself for others to come into contact with.
I know nothing that I write here has a deep philosophical meaneing behind it. I'm not disillusioned into thinking that countless people read my blog. But I do know people read it. And I do know that strangers read what I have to say. Some days its angry rants about the screaming children in my store, other days I have something of value to add. From the emails I've received though I know that the keystrokes I've created have had some kind of impact beyond my personal life. That makes me happy in a way. A total stranger has read what I have written and knows how I've felt in the last few years of me keeping a blog.
I've had a few people ask why I even bother writing on my blog. It's not like a whole ton of people read it or its on anything deeply meaningful. Some people say they write for themselves; if that was the case the blog would have a password on it and nobody would be able to get to the site. I think like most people who write a blog, I'm trying to put something that lasts and is somewhat meaningful or has some kind of impact on others. Along with writing I paint. A small group of people in the world have this eager to create something beyond themselves and that extends past their own circles. I guess I fall into that group.
This site is a small part of me. I've had many friends and family members, who know me personally, state that my writing sounds like me, like something I would say. In literary terms, I have a strong voice in my writing. Even the technical writing I do in sociology has a piece of me in it, and readers have picked up on it. This journal of small, short commentary is probably the best way of getting to know me in a quick time frame. By writing on the web I'm able to leave something of myself for others to come into contact with.
I know nothing that I write here has a deep philosophical meaneing behind it. I'm not disillusioned into thinking that countless people read my blog. But I do know people read it. And I do know that strangers read what I have to say. Some days its angry rants about the screaming children in my store, other days I have something of value to add. From the emails I've received though I know that the keystrokes I've created have had some kind of impact beyond my personal life. That makes me happy in a way. A total stranger has read what I have written and knows how I've felt in the last few years of me keeping a blog.
Going through my contact list on IM and come across one of my friend's statuses. He's apparently going to a pool party...wait what's this? He posted a link to a YouTube video. I'm thinking, "maybe someone made a video post to invite their friends," could be kind of cool. So I happily click away expecting something fairly creative. Nope.
He's made a slide show of photos of his new boyfriend. The reason he gets up in the morning or something like that. The video is set to some slow cheerful music about love or something along those lines. How long have they been dating? Umm two..no three...days.
I get love. I'm not nearly as cynical as I used to be. But less than a week? And a sideshow set to music? Does this scream middle school to anybody else? I also will give you the fact that you want to share your new found happiness with all your friends and acquaintances and random people on the web. It's actually kind of cute in a preteen summer love fling kind of way. (Random thought: how many such videos you think are on the Internet, or simply on YouTube alone?) But a 28 year old man...come on!
What we learned today:
1. Sideshows of your signif other should stop when you hit puberty.
2. Wait a few weeks before declaring your undying love for someone.
3. A video invitation would be a cool idea.
4. I'm not above ridiculing my friend's immature declaration of love on-line.
He's made a slide show of photos of his new boyfriend. The reason he gets up in the morning or something like that. The video is set to some slow cheerful music about love or something along those lines. How long have they been dating? Umm two..no three...days.
I get love. I'm not nearly as cynical as I used to be. But less than a week? And a sideshow set to music? Does this scream middle school to anybody else? I also will give you the fact that you want to share your new found happiness with all your friends and acquaintances and random people on the web. It's actually kind of cute in a preteen summer love fling kind of way. (Random thought: how many such videos you think are on the Internet, or simply on YouTube alone?) But a 28 year old man...come on!
What we learned today:
1. Sideshows of your signif other should stop when you hit puberty.
2. Wait a few weeks before declaring your undying love for someone.
3. A video invitation would be a cool idea.
4. I'm not above ridiculing my friend's immature declaration of love on-line.
6/13/10
Just got done watching an interesting documentary about what it means to be masculine, specifically what it means to be gay and masculine. In the straight world guys are given their "man card". They can be scrawny, timid, and everything not manly, but they get a free pass because they're straight. Gay guys just have to work a little harder at proving their worth as a man. Even in the community, "fem guys" are looked down at more often times than not. No jock or gym rat is going to be called a fag, no matter who they sleep with.
I have a working theory as to why many, not all but many, of the breeders that are uncomfortable with gays are the way they are. To them we question what it means to be a man. They see the men who fulfill the fem stereotypes and don't act the way a man should act. These guys bring in to question what a man truly is and how he should act; therefore they are seen as dangerous to the established male role. To sleep with another man is to be less of a man and more of a woman. To the straight world, gay men are giving up their power as a man and taking up the role of a woman. They are less of a man and in turn worth less than their straight counterparts.
On of my best friends used to joke with me that I was "such a girl". He would hurt my feelings, I would be sensitive and he would reply "stop being such a girl." He did this around one of our mutual friends, a woman, one day. She didn't really take notice until I pointed something out to her. He was intending to insult me by calling me a girl. To him, being a girl was a put down. It was demeaning and something less than being a man. She quickly took offense, as she should of to begin with.
Sissy, pussy, fairy, queen. All insults thrown at gays with feminine undertones to them. Why do they qualify as insults? Because they are targeted at men who are seen as acting like women or below the standards set to be masculine. Lesbians don't seem to suffer the same issue. In fact many butch women are celebrated in their communities.
Just random pondering...
I have a working theory as to why many, not all but many, of the breeders that are uncomfortable with gays are the way they are. To them we question what it means to be a man. They see the men who fulfill the fem stereotypes and don't act the way a man should act. These guys bring in to question what a man truly is and how he should act; therefore they are seen as dangerous to the established male role. To sleep with another man is to be less of a man and more of a woman. To the straight world, gay men are giving up their power as a man and taking up the role of a woman. They are less of a man and in turn worth less than their straight counterparts.
On of my best friends used to joke with me that I was "such a girl". He would hurt my feelings, I would be sensitive and he would reply "stop being such a girl." He did this around one of our mutual friends, a woman, one day. She didn't really take notice until I pointed something out to her. He was intending to insult me by calling me a girl. To him, being a girl was a put down. It was demeaning and something less than being a man. She quickly took offense, as she should of to begin with.
Sissy, pussy, fairy, queen. All insults thrown at gays with feminine undertones to them. Why do they qualify as insults? Because they are targeted at men who are seen as acting like women or below the standards set to be masculine. Lesbians don't seem to suffer the same issue. In fact many butch women are celebrated in their communities.
Just random pondering...
6/9/10
I went on a first date/blind date/thingy a few weeks ago. (Life has been that busy; I'm just now writing about it) I knew the kid, sort of, but never had deep conversation with him. So after weeks and weeks of him trying to get a date together I agreed to meet up at Starbucks.
Nothing too terrible happened on the date. I do the whole first date thing rather well, if I do say so myself. I mean really, I'm all that and a bag of chips. So I'm sitting there listening to him go on and on. By the end of the thirty minute conversation I think I said five sentences. This is what I learned during his monologue at Starbucks:
1. He makes 13 dollars and hour.
2. He is content to make 13 dollars an hour as a career.
3. I know how much he has in the bank.
4. All his past exes and their jobs and how much each made.
5. He travels all over the country for free because of the people he knows.
6. Thirty minutes is waaaaayyyy too long with this guy.
Who on Earth gives this sort of information out to someone they hardly know. Maybe he was trying to impress me. I'm not that kind of guy, and a four figure income wouldn't impress me even if I were. Where's the ambition, the drive, the goals? Only two people in my life, other than me, know how much I make, both of them are my bosses.
Also, giving a complete catalog of your past, failed relationships is probably not first date material. That's more like fifth date or something. When testing someone out to see if they are date-able, cause that's what a first date really boils down to, you don't want to hear the repeated failures and countless boys you need to measure up to. Now I know some of you are thinking, "Hey now Mr. Synical, past relationships aren't really failures. You always learn something." I agree, but in this case the failure label kind of fits for each relationship. All were flight attendants. All ended horribly. None taught the boy how to go on a nice date or have conversation.
Overall it was a train wreck of a date. Nothing there to even form a friendship from. I did manage to get some good reading in before he showed up. I guess that's the silver lining. Props to Mom for suggesting Last Lecture. :-p
Nothing too terrible happened on the date. I do the whole first date thing rather well, if I do say so myself. I mean really, I'm all that and a bag of chips. So I'm sitting there listening to him go on and on. By the end of the thirty minute conversation I think I said five sentences. This is what I learned during his monologue at Starbucks:
1. He makes 13 dollars and hour.
2. He is content to make 13 dollars an hour as a career.
3. I know how much he has in the bank.
4. All his past exes and their jobs and how much each made.
5. He travels all over the country for free because of the people he knows.
6. Thirty minutes is waaaaayyyy too long with this guy.
Who on Earth gives this sort of information out to someone they hardly know. Maybe he was trying to impress me. I'm not that kind of guy, and a four figure income wouldn't impress me even if I were. Where's the ambition, the drive, the goals? Only two people in my life, other than me, know how much I make, both of them are my bosses.
Also, giving a complete catalog of your past, failed relationships is probably not first date material. That's more like fifth date or something. When testing someone out to see if they are date-able, cause that's what a first date really boils down to, you don't want to hear the repeated failures and countless boys you need to measure up to. Now I know some of you are thinking, "Hey now Mr. Synical, past relationships aren't really failures. You always learn something." I agree, but in this case the failure label kind of fits for each relationship. All were flight attendants. All ended horribly. None taught the boy how to go on a nice date or have conversation.
Overall it was a train wreck of a date. Nothing there to even form a friendship from. I did manage to get some good reading in before he showed up. I guess that's the silver lining. Props to Mom for suggesting Last Lecture. :-p
6/2/10
I realized something a little weird or jarring today. While I was dropping off my dry cleaning, the woman behind the counter asked my address. Without hesitation I told her I didn't know. "You don't know your address?" Yeah, I felt kind of foolish for a second.
For the last four years I've moved at least once a year, sometimes more than that. I never bothered to remember the address at which I kept all my crap. I never give it out because chances are it will change within 12 months. Plus, there's something even more unsettling than having to tell people I don't know where I live; strangers would get my mail. We got the last person's mail for about 3 months after my roommate and I moved here. Some of it was rather personal. I don't want some stranger knowing I did my dry cleaning up the street! That's just none of their business.
So yeah I don't know my own address. I have to look up what apartment number I'm in every time I pay rent. It doesn't bother me, cause the alternative would be having to learn a useless number that will change in a few months anyways.
For the last four years I've moved at least once a year, sometimes more than that. I never bothered to remember the address at which I kept all my crap. I never give it out because chances are it will change within 12 months. Plus, there's something even more unsettling than having to tell people I don't know where I live; strangers would get my mail. We got the last person's mail for about 3 months after my roommate and I moved here. Some of it was rather personal. I don't want some stranger knowing I did my dry cleaning up the street! That's just none of their business.
So yeah I don't know my own address. I have to look up what apartment number I'm in every time I pay rent. It doesn't bother me, cause the alternative would be having to learn a useless number that will change in a few months anyways.
5/3/10
When I was younger I was terribly afraid of the dark. I learned to
sleep on my back so I was flat and harder to see hidden under the
covers. I was afraid of the dark well past 10 because I could see the
monsters in the corner. I'm 22 now and still see them. I'm afraid to
stop seeing them.
sleep on my back so I was flat and harder to see hidden under the
covers. I was afraid of the dark well past 10 because I could see the
monsters in the corner. I'm 22 now and still see them. I'm afraid to
stop seeing them.
Sent from my iPhone
4/21/10
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