@Everyones_A_Critic:
I wish I made this up. But why would anyone do that, it's the internet, lie big.
Go back through my blogs, I think it's called, "Let me be serious" that was the blog when I first met her if you need proof.
RedPanda77's forum posts
If I had the choice of going to Africa for a week or jail for a month the first thing I would say is, “which jail?” I know that it can’t be all bad out there but really, Africa? I think I’ll pass, most of the people I meet would be more impressed by jail time anyways. Farcry2 anyone?
I remember playing Farcry2 back when it came out in 2008, I never got into it. It seemed boring after playing my beloved MGS4 and on the brink of Valkyria Chronicles it wasn’t what I was looking for. Now for some reason, maybe I missed all the commotion when the game launched back then, but what I want to know is: How did this game get released? Not that its buggy or anything like that, it’s just that we see a ton of real world headlines delay, reroute or even cancel games. Remember Six Days in Fallujah, Motorstorm Apocalypse, some other games (fuck you, they never came out right? Why should I remember their stupid names?). So how did this get under the radar? As I sneak up on a medicine supply in a war ravaged village, what the hell am I doing? Oh assassinate another African leader, ok, spread propaganda through the radio to incite riots, I guess. If a video game tells me to do it, I gotta, there might be an achievement.
On top of the fact that this game exists, which it shouldn’t, Sony gave it to me for free. (???) I…? I don’t think they knew what was in that game, right? They couldn’t have, could they? Every member of PSN got it, right next to the classic Simpsons arcade game. Play as Homer or rape Africa this week on PSN. To be honest I don’t really care about Farcry2, I would like to say that I lay awake at night stressing over the plights of Africa, but I don’t. I often forget that Africa exists. Great, now I’m going to have to donate some money to an African charity to make up for that sentence. Damn you Catholic guilt!
I have hit a rough patch in my home life. I am on the eve of going to school, starting a new job and taking out a sizable loan, but that’s not rough, it’s scary, it’s stressful but its life. All of it is tangible and can be broken down and managed. How do you trust someone who has lied to you? Everywhere I look in my apartment I see testaments of love on the walls, monitors, refrigerator, I can’t escape it and I can’t deny it. I love her. I wouldn’t be going to school, changing my job or my life for the better if it wasn’t for her. But lies and deceit are looming, excuses sound false to me.
Typical me to retreat; I look to simple comforts to distract me from life’s hard decisions. Which never do for long and in fact create more problems than they ever fix. Now we both have trust issues. Is it too far gone? She was my best friend and now I feel like there is a stranger in my house. Did I create this or am I feeling guilty for turning my back on a person who obviously needs help, maybe both, maybe neither. All I know for sure is that I love her, but I need to make a choice soon because I can’t start all these new responsibilities with my head so cloudy.
By the way, Super Street Fighter 4 is the best game ever made. I need to figure out why my Abel is having a hard time Focus canceling into crouching FP online. Frustrating to say the least.
Danny got his finger caught in the bander yesterday, he didn't need my help, which was good cause I really needed to just soak that 15seconds in. Seeing him hunched over the bander, pink brow furrowed as he was trying to to tug his sweaty little digit out of the banding. "Yeah go ahead and tug again you tubby son of bitch, no ones going to help you." I wanted to take it in on a level that would allow me to sketch it from memory because I knew it was going to be my highlight of the week, not because I'm a sadist, but because it was the most exciting thing to happen all week, hands down.
If I knew something like this would constitute as a highlight I really would taken advantage of the excitement last November when they put new linoleum in the cafeteria. Which in turn prompted everyone to swap there best linoleum stories for a decent five minutes. I sneered back then, only a few weeks into the job I really had my priorities in a state of disarray. But that ship has sailed so, "Ohh, little piggie caught his finger, squeal piggie, squeal."
It's only a matter of time until my lifestyle catches up with my profession. I was on lunch, drove to Subway (cause that's the best you can get in an industrial area), I walk in to find a line of red shirts that all matched mine. Panic swept over me as my turn was slowly approaching, "black forrest ham on white" next guy, "meatball sub, on white" next guy "Philly cheese steak, on Italian." My turn, "veggie patty on wheat" - record scratch - "I'm sorry what was that sir?" Clearing my throat while I glared, "Veggie patty on wheat." Loud and clear. I saw people further up in line peeking forward to get a glimpse of the great big pussy that wanted veggie anything.
The red shirt next to me slowly turned towards me, "YOU'RE A VE-GE-TA-RI-AN?"
I know anyone who reads this is a little confused as to why this is such a big deal, it is now 2012 right? Well I work in the 1970s or Auburn, WA to the layman. You drive a truck, you order steak and football is life. We have one girl in the warehouse, she's a 10 don't argue, she's the only one we got so she's a fucking 10, "Just look at her, she's a girl right? So the fuck is you're problem?" Bit by bit little facts about me trickle out, he doesn't like sports (that's weird), he's a vegetarian (whatta fag), he reads comics? (what is he twelve?) plays videogames? (gaaaay).
Then a bombshell, "Hey where do you live?"
"I live in Seattle."
"Oh yeah, what part?"
"Capitol Hill."
"Isn't that where all the fags live?"
"Kind of."
This was too big of a revelation to ignore, old detective dipshits' on the case. The reason why I think my only female coworker ranks well below a 10 isn't because I'm gay, it's because I'm used to seeing beautiful women walk in front of my home every time I look (there goes one right now). But that's a hard argument to make to someone with a red-state mentality*.
I'm used to having my tastes viewed as obscure, it's what I expect - I went to high school with 2500+ people and I made three friends. The best/worst thing to do is slowly feed these assumptions. You have to be slight, because you want them to feel uncomfortable but not enough that the target will discuss it to great length. Like you can say, "yeah I have someone I live with." But don't say, "I live with my life partner." Too obvious, you never go full retard. Plant the seeds to a tree of entertainment:
"Tony have you been working out? You look really cut."
"You're beard looks really good today. Seriously."
One day I told Danny, "Hey Danny, you should buy Jamil some flowers." "Uh yeah, whatever man."
* Don't take offense
That's pretty weak, I guess.
I have a good job that I hate. The hate isn't merited, I just don't like the work.
I work next to Danny, Danny loves black people and football, which we can all agree is great. Way-to-fucking-go Danny! But that's the only talk I hear, Danny yapping peoples names and numbers, this guys scored points in this inning. (Points!!) He was devastated that I don't like football, "what do you do? I'd die without football." He really doesn't like working with me, I can tell because he jumps at the chance to talk to anyone that isn't me when they pass through our area. The football thing doesn't raise an eyebrow that much I'm used to it, most people love to watch millionaires play catch. But anybody reading this is thinking, "Is this guy a fucking racist? He just threw that out there like it was nothing." No, I'm not even slightly Hitlerish, I just get annoyed by the pandering of a chubby 24-year-old who perks up everytime Tony, Terrance or Jamil walks by. He loves them and they loathe him. "H-h-h-hey Terrance, you getting on Madden tonight or are going to hoop wit-ur-boyz?" Or, "Jamil! Jamil! Whats your favorite Kanye West song?" It doesn't sound to bad on paper, but imagine Paul Ruben saying that next to you for 40 a week.
He did extend an olive branch once, "So what you like rock or something? Do you like Maroon 5?" I know that the cunty answer would be to snub him, because that is a little blasphemous, I mean Maroon 5, really? I smiled and said not really, then I asked him if it was Montel Jordan or Montel Williams that was the singer. That launched him into a quite a diatribe about how he loves one of them and has all of his albums (I honestly can't remember which one is which and I kind of want to keep it that way).
My job is a blue collar dream, they pay high, full benneys, 401k, raises twice a year, untaxed bonuses, the hell is my problem? Polyester pants for one. I really went with it, I jumped in with both feet and made an honest effort. It wasn't easy, no talking for one. I'm a chatty guy, I like to talk and laugh, can't do it there, no un-football related talk, that's okay with me, lets me focus on my work. But the work doesn't require much focus: pack a box, repeat.
I have a name tag, 33, plastic name tag. Means to an end I tell myself. But earlier this week we had our morning meeting where we discuss football and stretch when my boss got to this bullet point on his memo, "As of today we no longer have chewing gum privileges in the warehouse." That seems stupid right? Who in their right mind would even think on this past one second. Well I was decimated, something in me switched off, I went to college and I just lost my gum privilege? Let me get this straight, my boss in the red collared shirt and blue polyester pant's took away my "privilege" to chew gum while I worked. We don't even have a radio playing and now I can't manage a stick of gum? I wanted to walk out right there, just toss the plastic name tag in the middle of the group and walk out.
Worst part, is that Danny kicks my ass at the job. I couldn't keep pace with that portly fuck if my life depended on it. I watch him work and keep thinking that the bag of McDonalds is going to kick in and he'll slow down, but nope. All day Danny out performs me, every second of every day. I try for like five minutes and my mind begins to wonder, it’s all I have left. I spent most of Tuesday day dreaming that my boss, ex-LAPD, was a big Disney fan. He’d come home late, pour three fingers of scotch in his darkened living room, sit down in his leather recliner and watch The Jungle Book. It make me smile just thinking about it, he’s in a meeting and suddenly the theme for Ducktails plays and he says, “Sorry I got to take this.” And then walks out with his cell to his ear.
I had to pass tests to wear that name tag, a psych eval., a physical, drug screen, had to write a fucking essay about the company.
It’s actually a big relief to find out that I suck at packing boxes, what if I was really good at it? What if the first day I packed a box something inside me awakened? All I wanted to talk about was boxes and how to pack them. I'd just shimmy it into every conversation I could, "Yeah I saw that movie, it reminded me a lot of the S-4001 corrugate I use back at work, 'What's that you say? You're not familiar, well let me tell you.'" Little pictures of boxes on the front of my trapper-keeper, that would be the greater evil, I think.
Now I have to find a new gig, I have a few more standards to add to my search criteria. I think I will probably hit up a trade school, something I can intern at while I learn.
Oh, she knows alright. Thank you both for the comments.
Fidgeting with my wine glass to avoid eye contact with my parents; I've milked this distraction way too long. Setting the empty glass back down on the patio table creates a sharp scrape that breaks the awkward silence enough for me to mutter out, "I just think that there's just someone better out there for me." It's one week before I was supposed to be married and my parents are reeling with the announcement that I have no intent of going through with it. "You sound like your father." My mother replies, looking up for the first time in what seems like forever to see my concerned mother alongside her devoted and loving second husband, Greg. I reply, "Well, wasn't dad right?" He was and so was I.
I knew I was doing the right thing, I didn't need validation or forgiveness, I just wanted to be happy. It was scary, leaving to be by myself that is, I crumpled up five plus years and threw it away to be written off like everyone of my other failed relationships. But it was liberating at the same time, in ways you'd expect and some that most of us take for granted; I'd forgotten myself years ago, to paraphrase Pink Floyd: I traded a walk on part in the war for a lead role in a cage.
Seems a bit heavy handed right? Did you not read the title? Are you the type of person who watched "Snakes on a Plane" and then complained that it was stupid? Duh, it's fucking called, "Snakes on a Plane" what did you expect? To walk out of the theater a changed man? Well stop reading then.
As I was saying, it was hard. Hitting the reset button at 31 with nothing to show for it was something I expected to do when I was 21, but none of my friends settled for "close enough," there was no reason for me to either. I rode it out; the loneliness, the rebound, the horrible first dates, my sites narrowed with every outing. I knew that I wanted something more then attraction, more then conversation, I wanted to be happy without compromising, and I did it, I met Hana.
It's the end of my first quarter back in college, finals are coming, I'm being graded for the first time in over 6 years and where am I? Leaning against the side of my car in the middle of a 30 minute long goodbye, repeating soft words milliseconds between kisses, adnauseum. I drove up there to spend the few hours I had left before Tuesday began, sacrificing sleep, homework and every sense of rational. We decided that some time between the constant affection would be good for us, not that we needed some time apart, but because we ran out of time; we reached the point of breaking and we had to do some damage control before we both wound up unemployed with piles of laundry, lists of chores, disgruntled friends and pets. We couldn't bear it though, one day apart, that's the limit and it seems to be closing smaller and smaller. I couldn't be happier.
The first time I met my best friend, Paul, we got into a fight on the school bus (I won btw), one week after we became inseparable, like brothers. I knew when I first became his friend that I would know him for the rest of my life, here I am 20 years later, played best man at his wedding, he's still the first one I call. I never flinched on the first date, I knew Hana for only hours, reaching out for her hand was second nature, the idea that I was making a move on her didn't even occur to me, it was like nothing I'd ever felt before. Complete, brilliant, engagement that had escaped me as far back as I can remember was in front of me and once it was introduced it was like it had always been there but just out of my grasp.
A bit much? Depends.
I could indulge every known cliche' about these feelings, but it would ultimately fail me, they're trite and this is anything but. We spend every second we can spare looking, touching, listening, sharing- See? Words
are failing me, I cannot describe what this is like, I only know that it's not going to stop and I never want it to. I have to wrap this up, oh, I could go on, believe me, but I still have about 19 minutes before I have to get to bed and I think I can shimmy in a good conversation with her in that space. I told you at the title - this is serious As my previous blogs would suggest: I'm cynical. I love to keep my rampant optimism in check with cold hard logic, but logic is failing today. I have nothing to challenge this with, I've fought hard to hold off these feelings, but I can't. I can not find anything wrong, and I know what to look for thank you.
I somehow ducked all the cynical types that usually populate message boards!?! Thanks, you guys, for taking the time to read and comment.
@melcene:
Yeah, I hear you about your coworker. People I have worked with have come back to me with the same comments. Unfortunately, when I try to go the other route and be nice it gets taken as if I was pandering. My friend and I just had this discussion last night, he said that I: A) Over-think everything & B) Complain too much (honestly as a person who only has three friends I think he just gets the brunt of my problems, we've been like brothers for 20 years). Your right about needing a significant other to edit ones social faux pas. I've noticed that cynical assholes who dislike everyone seem to latch onto cheery social butterflies who like everyone (even them). You should get your kid a twitter account.
@Axxol:
Nice to meet you.
@spudtastic:
Thank you. I've been dodging writing out the story of my Ex, I use GIantBomb for blogging because no one on my FB account would follow a link onto a video game site, so it acts as a pseudo confession booth as well. But yeah I'm still too scared to open up that that one, I will, but not for a minute.
@VinceNotVance:
I know I need a filter and a buffer. I need someone to interject, "he's joking, he didn't mean it like that."
It's hard. Thanks again you guys.
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