It's like Adventures in Babysitting if they were crack whores.

 

I feel shitty.

I don’t update anymore. So much shit has happened that pisses me off. Life’s been rough lately. I wish I could win the lottery and take some time to not work.

Women, food, and alcohol.

These things are how I cope. Although, over-consumption of the last two has made the first one more difficult to obtain. I’ve been working through some issues lately that I figured I might as well share because, well, why the fuck not? I’m burning through several albums dragging my feet as I write this, but I need to say it out loud…ish.

I saw my father for the first time in 6 years two weeks ago. The reasons why I stopped seeing him in the first place is too long and personal to get into in this post. Maybe I’ll talk about it later. Maybe I’ll just save it for those close to me who want to know the story.

Anyway, he lives in Mississippi so I kind of kept telling myself the next time I would probably see him again is my grandmother’s funeral. I didn’t and still don’t like thinking about my grandmother dying, but the fact that I knew when I would see my dad next and could prepare for it was always a comforting thought. Unfortunately, my grandmother fell ill last month and my aunt called me to tell me she had taken a turn for the worst. I immediately scheduled a time to see her with my aunt for two weeks ago.

The day before I went up to visit, my aunt called me and told me that my dad had just called her and asked her when she was visiting. She told him she was taking me around 1 and going with her kids earlier but she would be happy to call him for a conference call. He got offended she wouldn’t assume he wouldn’t fly up without telling anyone and said he was going to come by her place at 1 and see me. I freaked out a little bit, but I had people that reminded me there were bigger things happening than my problems with him and I needed to see my grandmother, so I sucked it up.

The initial seeing him and visiting with my grandmother weren’t too bad. She wasn’t looking very good last time I saw her and if my aunt hadn’t told me her body was slowly shutting down I would have thought she was doing better. It was after the visit things got weird. I had a concert I was going to later that night so I was just going to stay there from 1 until 9. My dad decided to stay the whole time too and I tried to talk to him adult to adult. It didn’t work.

My dad’s the type of person who I hate meeting and talking to and the only reason I let him get away with a bunch of the shit he said was I didn’t want to argue with him and he’s blood related. If anyone else told me my major was useless and I will never get a job in my field I would have told them to shut up. If anyone else had told me my choice of colleges was terrible and a slap in the face to my family we would have had a major issue. If anyone else told me my mom is greedy, wastes money, and has never done a thing to help me I would have punched them in the mouth. I was forced to sit there and take it by my own issues, which made me revert to the powerless, mentally shackled 6 year old who believed him when he said my mom was trying to take me away from him and destroy our family. If only 6 year old me knew that by 15 I wouldn’t be seeing him anymore until my high school graduation and it was 100% MY choice.

He talked about other stuff that bounced between asinine and bullshit and got mad at people who interrupted him. He told me about how all NFL playoff and Superbowl games are fixed by the mafia. He talked about how his dogs could tell time and when my aunt chimed in “Oh, because they always know when it’s time to get fed?” He curtly replied “No! It’s because every day at 4 they bug Wendy to feed them and wait by the door until 6 to see me when I come home.” I just shook my head. I knew these kinds of people. I hate these kinds of people. I can’t respect my dad as a father and I can’t respect him as a person. He told me everything was good between us now so he would be calling me whenever he’s in town. He has no idea how wrong he is.

He ended by telling me he has a bunch of old VHS tapes of cartoons I used to watch and two HUGE boxes of my old toys he kept that he’s going to be slowly sending to me because he doesn’t want them anymore. He also apparently kept my old waterbed in case I came down to visit him and tried to pawn that off on me too.

He tried to call me to hang out before he left. I didn’t answer and had my aunt tell him I wouldn’t be seeing him. I can’t talk to him without reverting and breaking down into the thing it took me years to overcome. I became the man I am today not in spite of him, but TO spite him. Becoming a strong, caring, outspoken, liberal-minded thinker was the best way I could think to get back at the non-confrontational, self-important, ultra-competitive, ultra-conservative who told my aunt if she doesn’t like the Westboro Baptist Church she can just find a new place to live.

Seriously, who the fuck leaps to the defense of the Westboro Baptist Church?

Drinking whiskey and listening to The Mountain Goats is a dangerous combination.

Youth without youth

I keep hearing people say our generation is lazy and entitled. Like it’s our fault we feel lazy and entitled. When I was a kid I watched nothing but cartoons whose basic message was “Adults are stupid. Kids are smart.” I was constantly and consistently fed messages of youthful supremacy and elder inferiority. I come from a culture of youth worship.

I’ve seen even today the message has not changed. From falling asleep to Adult Swim and waking up to the normal programming rotation on Cartoon Network I see the same basic message, but changed slightly to have parents less included in the equation. Now it’s “Kids are geniuses who will run the world while adults fumble around and their parents will never really know them or how smart they are.”

I’m not even going to bring up the internet for this. Critics have said part of the entitlement generation is the ease in which a blog can be made and then made popular. Like finding a thousand people half a world over who share interests with us is a bad thing because rather than feel accepted, those of an earlier generation had to blend and change themselves rather than feel comfortable. Hell, it’s the whole reason I started writing this blog. Every story I tell that gets a like makes me happy. Someone somewhere relates. Someone somewhere looks at what I write and says “I like this.”

Which brings me to my next point of entitlement. When I was younger, no one told me I was a shitty artist. No one wanted to discourage me from art and the school had a program that seemed to say “Hey, even if you’re a shitty artist, keep it up.” I am and always have been a shitty artist. I can’t draw worth a damn, but while cleaning the garage with my mom I found a box of terrible pictures I drew all with comments encouraging me to keep it up. An F on a writing assignment just meant “You’ll do better next time” and not “Holy shit, just stop attempting creative writing.” We were all encouraged to do more of things we were terrible at because we’d be good at them some day.

Then I got to college where they tried to give us the harsh dose of reality. They told us not to expect a job right out of college. They told us not to expect a salary more than $24K a year. They told us our college degrees are worthless. We laughed them off. After all. We’re us. The youth of today and leaders of tomorrow. We’ve been told since infancy we were ready to lead this country.

Now when I apply for a job the response is along the lines of “Do you really expect to get this job? You entitled prick.”

I wrote this a little drunk. If I feel a need to edit it sober I will.

Soul mates

I’ve always hated the concept of soul mates. Seriously. It shakes me to the core. One person for everyone? Just one? There’s so many variables. What if I meet her at the wrong time in my life? What if I’m an obnoxious bore and we hate each other right off the bat?

I love myself for who I am and what I do, but if I ever met someone exactly like me I would HATE that person with a passion.

What if she went through the same shit I went through as a child, but instead of powering through the dark times she did what I never could and killed herself? In fact, what about the kids who committed suicide in high school? Who was their soul mate?

It kills me every time I see another post on Facebook where they use the term soul mate. It’s just such a shitty thought that everyone has one specific person for them. Even if they’re in a relationship and one of them dies, is the other supposed to shrug and say “Well, guess I’ll never find love again.” and just give up?

Or are we supposed to settle? To think we’ll never find the perfect person for us and just say good enough to the person we’re with and stop looking. After all, they’re a good person. They don’t beat us or abuse us in any way. They’re really nice and our parents like them. It’s time to settle, pop out a kid, and be happy with what you have. Sure, there’s probably someone out there with more of your interests than them, but who cares. You’re not with that person. You’re with someone else who’s pretty good. Besides, it’s not like you can still check around to see if other people are better than the pretty good one. That would break their heart. We don’t want that.

Big night out

Recently, a bunch of friends from college and I have been going to see Seattle’s Rat City Rollergirls and following it up with karaoke at Ozzie’s. This last time I brought a few Kent friends up with me and we all had a blast. Unfortunately, Ozzie’s was packed so we all couldn’t sit together but I made my own fun without a large group of people.

I had a few charisma potions (Irish Death beer and Bushmills) bumping my modifier to +8 and then started walking around introducing myself to people. I started with a bachelorette party taking pictures and just slid in to the side and introduced myself. Now there’s some woman with a bunch of pictures of me and all her best friends. Anyway, I bought them a round of shots and while at the bar shook hands with a couple guys awkwardly standing around and then introduced them to the bachelorette party. They started to pair up with the girls and they all walked off. Later on, the guys found me again and kind of awkwardly said they struck out and asked me to go hang out with them and the girls again, which I just kind of swapped who was talking to who and they started hitting it off again.

After that I went back to the bar and started chatting up a cute woman there who asked me to go back to her table and talk with her more. Once we got to the table, though, she kept trying to pass me along to her friend who was not interested in me. After a while she sighed and told me that she liked me and thought I was cute, but she promised her male friend who was sitting at the table and glaring at me that she would have sex with him that night. She said she did really like me and wanted to hang out so she asked me for my number. She still hasn’t called me.

After, I was recounting that story to someone and I realized that’s actually the second time that’s happened to me. The first time this happened was at my favorite bar across from where I’m living now. I was really hitting it off with this girl and we had a bit in common and she was really flirting hard with me, but no matter what, this guy was always close behind her staring at me. As the bar closed up for the night we went outside and she told me that she actually met the guy on Craigslist and wanted to meet him in a public place before they started their NSA anonymous banging. Unfortunately, we struck up a conversation and she decided to talk with me instead of just leaving with this guy, but now the bar was closed, she said she would feel bad if she didn’t bang him. Apparently he drove up to Kent from Olympia and it’s the least she could do. She told me she’d come back to the bar again in the hopes of meeting me. I never saw her again.

Hitting on friends drunk

If there’s one thing I need to stop when drinking, it’s hitting on my friends while drunk. I don’t know who I’m going to start hitting on when drunk as I only get drunk with my friends these days, but I’ll figure it out. Seriously, it never ends well.

Twice! Count it, twice! When I was in college I would be drinking, brown out (like blacking out but for a minute or two), and then snap back to reality realizing I just kissed the girl standing across from me. Not a passionate, consensual kiss, but rather I just leaned foreword and kissed her and it took her by surprise and now she’s just staring at me wondering where the hell that came from and why I did it. This was usually followed by awkward staring at the ground and then a quick dismissal from the conversation while I continued drinking elsewhere sheepishly glancing in their direction refusing to make eye contact out of embarrassment.

I’m not even going to talk about the times I attempted to kiss someone and failed. That’s too many to count.

Recently I’ve been drunkenly hitting on a female friend of mine and I’m worried I crossed the line last time. I don’t know if I did. I was talking to her, blacked out, and then came back into consciousness in the middle of a sentence that made no sense while hugging her. I don’t know why, but something felt different about that time. Unlike all the other times where I can pass it off as drunk flirting I felt guilty when I regained consciousness. Then I passed out on the lawn.

She told me she reads this, so if you do read this, I’m sorry. I’ve made it my goal not drunkenly hit on you anymore. I promise…unless you’re into it.

Always end on a joke.

I walked two miles in the rain in a suit, my feet torn up by my father’s shoes. Receipts and cards tumble out of my pocket to the floor of the station. I still don’t have a wallet. Up a flight of stairs to Herald Square. The umbrellas of New York take up too much air. So we just walk real slow at double-arms length in unison.

My mom dragged me to the doctor today, I had a cough for a month and it won’t go away ‘cause I’ve been sleeping on floors for three hours a day and I have no insurance, so she has to pay. I can’t talk to my friends because I’m embarrassed that I keep sliding back down. I keep getting depressed.

- We got our ideals but no way to achieve them.
- We got our degree but got no means to use it.
- We’re swimming in debt with no way to surmount it.
- We got thirty bucks and we spend it on whiskey.
- We got credit cards, so we got a new TV.
- We got mobile phones but no minutes so text me.

Get out of my way because I’m 25 and I still act like I’m ten! I’m 25! I don’t learn from my mistakes I make them again and again and again and again and again…

- We swallow our pride over piles of problems.
- We whine and complain but we don’t try to solve ‘em.
- We’re reaching for answers like nobody’s got ‘em.

Get out of my way because I’m 25 and I still act like I’m ten goddamn years old!

I could give you lessons: How to ruin your friendships

Sometimes I think I’m a shitty friend. I must be. I keep losing friendships. I keep doing shitty things to those I care most about and instead of apologizing just say to myself “They deserved it.”

I’ve been friends with Derek for years. He’s a great friend, just not too bright and thinks illogically sometimes, mainly when he’s high. He deleted me off Facebook a while ago because he was high and had one of his “brilliant ideas” and posted that he’s either brilliant or crazy. I, being a good friend, responded with “No, Derek, you’re a complete idiot” or something equally mean. I just get sick of the stoners I know having “brilliant ideas” that are all the stupidest fucking things I’ve ever heard and that’s how I justify that comment. I really don’t have a leg to stand on, I know.

I’ve stopped supporting my friend’s band. I don’t think I’ve commented on this yet, so if I have, forgive me. A year ago when I was in the first band I was posting about with the bad breakup, only one of their members (Derek) actually came to our shows regularly. Everyone else came out once. This is after I had been going to their shows regularly and even worked merch for them several times. Now, I give them some leeway for work and stuff (their bassist mastered our CD for free. Huge show of support there) but I would have appreciated seeing them at more than one of our shows. We even had a show on a night where they usually practice I knew they could make it to, but when I called my friend/their singer he said they would rather have practice. I asked him why they needed to practice since they didn’t have any shows for 6 months and he shrugged me off until a few weeks later when he told me he thought we were the worst band he had ever heard and would only see us again out of obligation. Since then, I’ve made it a thing to not see them live anymore. I feel decently justified in that.

I just yelled at a friend of mine a few hours ago. He’s roommates with one of the members of aforementioned band and has been trying to get me to go to their show in Bellingham this weekend. I explained the situation to him a while ago, which he said he totally understood, and then called me a bit ago asking what I was doing this weekend. I told him not much and he said “Come to the Bellingham show.” I told him no and he said “Come on, Bellingham’s awesome!” (which is a statement I don’t completely agree with. Damn Bellingham hippies) Now, I have had an extremely frustrating week and just got off the phone with Comcast complaining about my shitty internet connection when he called me so I was still riled up and I yelled “FUCK BELLINGHAM!”

"Oh, come on man. It’s gonna be-"

"No, FUCK BELLINGHAM! FUCK YOU!"

Then he started saying something else but I just hung up on him. Rude? Yes. Overreaction? Maybe. Justified? I still think so.

Scott Pilgrim’s Finest Hour

Oh yeah, Some good did happen recently. I went on a weekend adventure.

I went to Camano Island with my friends Rikki and Lynsi. None of us had been there before so we just went up there to see what we could see. We hung out on the beach and Rikki and I discussed our younger selves mutual fondness for the Scary Stories to Tell in the Dark book series before having an amazing lunch and retiring to Rikki’s apartment to get drunk and watch Stella, Hedwig and the Angry Inch, and the 90s movie Fear. It was honestly the best weekend I’ve had in a long, long time and I don’t think words could even come close to explaining the pure joy I felt spending the weekend with those wonderful, beautiful people.

Only to come back to one of the worst weeks I’ve ever had.