STARTING TO WONDER IF I SHOULD BE TAKING MY OWN ADVICE...

     I am deliriously unhappy at my job or I'm deliriously unhappy about knowing that I still have around thirty-five years to go before I can collect Social Security or both...

     Over a year ago, I listened to Winwood grow ever more unhappy with her job and once I had heard enough conversations about it, began gently encouraging her to quit for her own mental health. Later on, I dropped the "gently" part.
     Eventually Winwood did quit though I can't say my encouragement had anything to do with it or if total burnout had finally occurred.

     Of course I look at her now, still unemployed and no prospects for future employment ahead...I see her falling deeper into despair and wonder if ultimately my advice was sound or if she'd practically, if not literally, be dead by now had she continued. It remains to be seen but the fact remains that she left her job without first securing a new one. I want to believe she will turn out all right but I do worry about her for the time being.

     As for me, I feel like I should quit my job. Again, I don't really know for what reason. I just feel like I've had enough but I don't know what I've had enough of. It's not like the job is physically demanding or even mentally demanding. It just is. I'm a cashier for the majority of my time there. But the fact is, aside from my friend the Security Guard and the occasional old coin I find in my till, I have nothing to say about my job that suggests I should remain there.
      Years ago I would've recommended anyone work for my company. I thought it a fair place and felt treated well. I can't say with certainty what has changed, only my feelings on it, but now I would not recommend getting a job for that company. I just wish I could remember these things for when I fill out my employee satisfaction surveys each year. I always circle the lowest number for morale but I fail to recall good reasons for it in the space provided. It's not like that survey appears the same day each year. I usually just say that I am made to feel more like a number than a person and that I am viewed as an unwanted expense. That in of itself is pretty harsh but barely gets to the root of my dissatisfaction.

      I have felt pangs of hope before. The Security Guard keeps swearing to take me away from that place but every lead he's had so far over the years has not panned out.

      I've been afraid to just quit. Quitting is not in my nature (cf. any entry about Digby) and it's not like it's easy to be fired from my job since I won't steal (neither time nor money...and besides, doing so deliberately would be a form of quitting) and I don't feel like cursing out management (despite the ever-present temptation to do so with my current overnight manager who has lowered considerably my respect for the company seeing as how he still has a job). I wish I could fall victim to some metric that's mostly out of my control or to a layoff but I'm trapped.

      But I wonder if I should resist that fear? Even overcome it...and just do it already.

      I wonder how long it would take me to decompress? You know I wouldn't even consider looking for work right away. It's been so long since I've been free without guilt (I feel I should add that since the weeks I had between jobs living with my Dad were not meant to be enjoyed since I promised I would find work right away). I think my last guiltless free time was the Summer of 1996 while building up residency in New York to go to college there a year later. I remember unplugging my clock and taping over the VCR's time so that I would just do things as I pleased and more importantly, stop when I pleased rather than because The Simpsons was coming on. Eat when I was hungry and not because it was 6 o'clock. Get up because I was rested and not because the alarm went off or I "should" be up by a certain time. It was wonderful.
      And like Winwood, if I did do this, I would be doing so without a job already lined up which could prove dangerous. I would be poised to immediately eat into my savings and I've stated in a previous entry, I have plenty to live for a while without working.
      But then I wonder if I would ever look for work again. From my perspective right now, I would say no definitively. It's not even a question but I do wonder. How long would it take me to get over this mental fatigue from my current job and get to a point where I'd want to work again?

      Based on my savings, I could go at most six or seven years. Three years before I'd have to cash out IRA accounts. So basically three years, but realistically two because I imagine if I did this I would have no choice but to learn to drive at some point.
      Learning to drive might further the delay in a search for work because I imagine a wanderlust would set in. I'd want to visit people I've been unable to see and perhaps make up for the many times I've had to be that guy who made somebody pick me up to go somewhere.

      I don't know. It's an entertaining fantasy but the fact is, it feels like it has already happened...like I've already reached acceptance in my brain. I feel myself weakening mentally. I find it takes longer and longer to talk myself out of quitting each day...even on my days off. My shift has been over for over four hours now and I'm still thinking about it. The cacophony of "leave" is catching up to the shouts of "stay". They feel almost, if not already, equal now...perhaps the leaves are already louder.

      But what would I do?

      One argument I already envision is people chastising me for doing so when, for years, they've never been happy that I've worked there for so long. These same people feel like I could be doing so much better with my mind than working there and I do foresee them being upset that I had left. Ugh...

      Still...would it be worth it? Should I at least take the rest of the year off or would I become desirous of routine long before that? I never liked having to go back to school each year but then I also didn't like the onset of Summer vacation. Perhaps it was the same thing...I had become routinized to the school year and didn't want to see it end and then later I had become routinized to the carefreeness of Summer vacation and didn't want to see that end.
      How long would it take me to miss the ebb and flow of my workweek?

      It would be a bad idea but I think I should do it. I promised Twin I would work for her this coming Monday and Tuesday, my usual nights off so I definitely have to keep it together long enough for that. My coworker is on vacation for another two weeks but then I have reached the point where I don't give a shit about hurting the store.

      I'll have to see how I feel Tuesday.

      Maybe this is none of those instances I should talk it over with my Best Friend first and especially Winwood since this whole scenario is reminiscent of her own...


The Cars: Door to Door, 1st song - "Leave or Stay"

REFLECTIONS...

     Yesterday I learned that Digby has a boyfriend. I also learned that I am in no way happy for her. I never realized that I had actually hated her...

     It's strange getting a glimpse of your soul. Any other of my crushes over the years, if I found out they had a boyfriend or when they announced their engagements, whatever, I was actually pleased. Yes, I wished it could've been me in a more perfect world but nevertheless I was glad to have learned they had found some happiness in life. It is what I had always wanted for them. Again, ideally they would've found that happiness with me, but in this imperfect world I'm still glad they found someone. I really am.

     But not Digby...

     Why the difference, I wonder? She's not the only girl to have hurt me before nor is she the first. Do I really hold such a terrible grudge because she was the last girl I could've introduced to my father before he passed? Was it because she was never straight with me? Was I really so in love that having my heart broken over such a long stretch of time would so thoroughly blacken my soul? I don't know...

     Such invidiousness...

     It's like having a mirror capable of reflecting my soul held up to me. I saw the darkness in my heart for the first time in quite a while. I'm ashamed... I thought I cared about her. That was painful to confront. Strangely, it may prove liberating. I've been pining for this girl since July 2007...a long time indeed...and even after not having seen her with any sense of regularity for almost three years. She's stuck with me. No one has replaced her. I'm not sure I've ever wanted a girl more. I've come to calling her The Omega as though she would be the last of her kind...that my heart could not bear to take up the burden of another infatuation.
     Number Twelve briefly shone after her, but unlike Digby, she was honest with me and her potential for influence over me faded rapidly. I let her go before she became a full-blown crush. I was able to let her go and let her go easily. I've seen her with her boyfriend and how happy she is with him and I, in turn, am happy for her that she has such a man who has stood by her all these years and through the traumas she's had to endure. When the First One finally finds a man, I'm sure I'll feel a little pang of jealousy but I will ultimately be glad she has found someone she has deemed worthy of her. It is, after all, what I have wanted for her since high school.

     Still, this dark jealousy might prove liberating. To see me hate her happiness and feel it so openly only shows me that I could not really have cared for her. To want to destroy this budding love between them in some perverse effort to isolate her that she may find love with only me is insanity. I can't claim feelings of love for her if I wish this upon her in any capacity.

     Knowing this; having confronted this aspect of my soul, maybe I can finally let her go...

CONFIDENCE IS BORN OF CHARITY...

     One of the commonest forms of advice anyone (but especially males) will receive for dating will be the stressing of the necessity of expressing confidence. And personally, I get that. I see how that works because like anyone else, I'm impressed by confidence when it is witnessed in others be it for dating, in the arts, standing up for oneself, etc. Confidence is certainly wonderful to be around and influenced by. It is indeed.

      However, where does confidence come from? As I've often stated in the dating game, how am I supposed to be confident around women when women (up until June 24th, 2012 anyway) have always refused to go out with me? I would say confidence comes from victory and without victory, there can be no confidence. And while a date is more an endgame thing, smaller victories exist too leading up to that. Victories like girls you're actually attracted to smiling when you talk to them or those same girls giving you their phone numbers. Victories like girls actually competing for your attention. That, in particular, is a wonderful experience that I personally have only witnessed happening to other men...men who would also be getting the attention of the girls I have liked over the years. O jealousy!

      But it got me thinking. What gets the confidence ball rolling? Some people possess it in spades whereas others, like me, desperately scrape the bottom of my psychology's leaky bucket looking for anything I can use because confidence has long since ceased to be available to me in useful amounts. I feel like the lead Prawn in District 9 patiently trying to distill fuel from scraps of their machinery to power their idle mothership. Here I'm combing through scraps of life experiences hoping to distill enough confidence to take a chance on someone and that the effort won't be wasted because I know it will be a long time before I've distilled enough to try again and in the meantime, I'll've only gotten older.

      But still, where does it start? What is the basis of confidence? And then it hit me...childhood. But more specifically our parents. Our first experiences of confidence were acts of charity by our parents. Do you remember making drawings or picking flowers or singing songs for your mom and/or dad? Maybe you got good grades on your report card... Or at least do you remember watching other kids do the same when you were older? What is the parents' reaction to their child's decidedly crude drawing, hackneyed jokes, presentation of common wildflowers, or off-key singing? It was "beautiful", wasn't it? Much praise was given, was it not? And it was an act of charity on the part of the parents because there is no way in hell I can accept that any parent, no matter how enthralled they are with their own genetic progeny, actually believes that the drawing was beautiful or that the joke was funny or that the flowers were well presented/selected or that the singing was great. We've seen art done by masters; heard songs composed  by The Beatles; seen the brightest, most colorful bouquets; witnessed unparalleled intelligence from scientists and philosophers; and we've all listened to some damn fine comedians over the years too.

      These parents are bullshitting their children, but for a good reason. Harsh criticism early on will destroy their desire to create and stand out. The charitable confidence given to them in the beginning encourages them to continue because yes, having an audience matters.
      I've tried to tell myself over the years that the approval of others isn't necessary and to a certain extent that is true because I worked on my language for a good eight years without anyone cheering me on to do so. But to a further extent, it is also a lie. I would argue that the energy/inspiration necessary to create this language derived from my crush on The First One, from learning how other languages worked, and perhaps additionally from whatever well of prior confidence in my abilities I had had from earlier periods in my life when crude gestures/attempts could still garner praise. But then, that language has lain largely dormant for over ten years now. Imagine how much closer to completion it would be today if I had someone (or several someones) supporting me in my quest either through praise, encouragement, or even simple curiosity on their part?

       Eventually these kids will go to school and have friends who will not give them praise just because. Suddenly they will find themselves challenged to earn their praise. Here, those children who have had much charitable confidence put in their psychological buckets will find themselves able to weather these storms. They will get better at drawing; better at writing; better at singing; better at joke telling; better at their particular sport; better at school; etc. and earn praise that way. They will turn their charitable confidence into plain old confidence and with that confidence, they will get the girls they like because they will be projecting the air girls find attractive.
       As for everyone else, barring acts of charity anew, we are lost. As for dating, Winwood was the one who charitably donated confidence to me that girls might actually want to date me. I fear over a year later that it has worn off. I'm tired and finding myself not wishing to try anymore. I feel myself missing my time to work on my own shit again. I feel myself wanting to pull back. I wonder if I should? But then I realize I'm fast staring down the barrel of middle age and if I truly do not wish to die alone, I cannot stop...

      Confidence may be born of charity, but it is sustained by skill and damn it, I need skills...

Today is NEWSCASTERS PRETEND TO CARE ABOUT VICTIMS AND THEIR FAMILIES Day...

     We have taken our pound of flesh for the September 11th, 2001 terrorist attacks. It is enough. Time to move on as a nation and get on with rebuilding all those things we have been neglecting as a result of our prolonged response to those terrorist attacks. We are well past the time to be moving money set aside for revenge and destruction and using it instead to rebuild our roads, our schools, our water pipes, our electrical grid, etc. etc. etc. etc.

     September 11th has become this national day of mourning and it offends me. Unless you personally knew someone who died that day as a result of the attacks, today is not about you. You experienced a nexus in history...congratulations...but it's not about you. Your life was not affected, so live it instead.
     But that doesn't matter because ghoulish engines have been built and continue to churn out these prepackaged 9/11-themed sorrowful human interest stories for the public to consume. The news programs play somber versions of their regular themes too, just like the Brady Bunch. And the newscasters themselves wear their sad faces when reading from the teleprompter. The girls who were hired to be big-titted, attractive stage props are made to dress like they're going to a funeral. And of course the endless jingoistic photo montages of American flags, the still-standing Twin Towers made to look majestic, sad-looking people, bald eagles, heavenly blue skies, and don't forget the firemen hoisting the flag shot and the "cross of steel" too because for some reason, miracle! Each news organization quietly competes to get the most talked about montage because why not, it's not like Nielson ratings, Cume, shares, AQH, and TSL take the day off when it's a bad-memory day for the United States. Money, money, money!
     By now, the references to the attack itself are oblique at best. Maybe one picture of the actual attacks and even then, it's a safe one before getting back to the people aspect of it, rather than the political part and the military response. They don't want to stoke any latent anger in the American public anymore and I'm fine with that overall, but not the way the newsmedia goes about it. And then of course, the next day, it's all back to normal: playful banter between hosts and wacky stories and cleavage galore from the hot weather girl...just like yesterday never happened.

PICTURED: not September 11th

MAKING ANOTHER SHAKY "X" ON MY CALENDAR...

     Say what you want about me, but one thing you can't say is that I lack willpower. I have passed eleven days (out of ninety) of my, let's face it, desperate attempt at restoring my penile sensitivity without drugs by abstaining from masturbation. The fact that I am still very much aware of what day I am on in this little project of mine should be a fairly clear indicator of just how difficult this is to do. I have never gone this long without masturbation since discovering it was a thing back when I was almost twelve.

     The temptations are many. I still find myself visiting porn sites to see what's new on them and watching the previews...but never once have I broken down. Strangely, I can just watch. It's an oddly perverse thing to do. I guess you could say I subscribe to the philosophy that one cannot claim to be free of temptation when not actually faced with temptation. I suppose if I were an alcoholic, I would actually be spending time in bars drinking only soda despite the fact that that must almost certainly violate every recommendation.

     I guess I want this despite how annoying it is to continue. I feel the song of temptation ever-present in my mind. The lyrics are changing but the melody is the same. Now it's telling me that I should "reward myself" for having stuck to this regimen for "so long". Ugh, this is so annoying...

MY LIFE IS NOW A SEINFELD EPISODE...

     My life at times really feels like an endless chorus of, "Well, we have some good news and some bad news."

OCCASIONALLY I REGRET THE THINGS I SAY...

      I fully admit that I am an asshole and not just "at times." I am a straight-up asshole and as such I can and do say and think things which, upon happenstance and occasionally outright education, can be later found to be indefensible. I figure in the spirit of this capacity to change and presumably "grow" as a human being, I would let you in on two things I have come to reconsider lately.

      Gawker a few weeks ago published another story in its continuing takes on the Trayvon Martin killing. In this article, it was mentioned that somehow respected newsperson Geraldo Rivera was quoted as saying (and I am quoting, likely out of context but wha'e'er), "I think the hoodie is as much responsible for Trayvon Martin's death as George Zimmerman was." If you're fairly enlightened already, I suspect you have found that comment to be revolting. The thing is, I didn't and for a while (and I mean long before this particular story came out) I was of the general opinion that people shouldn't go around acting suspiciously and that would go double for minorities as they are already looked upon suspiciously so don't add fuel to the fire by adding a layer of conspicuousness to it all. Yes, hoodies look intimidating. I would argue because it partially obscures one's face depriving you of an important aspect of body language to ascertain and because the large pockets in front in which both hands are sometimes in can make it look like you're concealing a weapon. Yes, I have on occasion felt nervous when hoodied (my memory's cloudy but let's face it...black and/or latino) gentlemen had approached me in passing. Basically, don't wear clothing that makes you look like a thug. Sounded reasonable. Then in the comment section of that same article, I read this by geraldlott65 and promptly felt like an ass:

"As a Black man in America, I have always had to be aware of how I am perceived. I have a 14 year old son who doesn't know what its like to be called a nigger by someone means it. The fact is - racism exists. What should young black men do, dress in khakis and boat shoes with polo shirts and sweater tied around their necks. Let's be honest, once most young black men start wearing the "prep" look, we'll have stories of racists killing them because they look threatening in their pink Izod shirts. I bet we even hear that some gangs have Polo and some wear the alligator!

George Zimmerman killed Trayvon Martin because he could. He was looking for an opportunity to play "Sheriff" and found a victim. Trayvon was a black stranger that wandered into Zimmerman's turf. He is as bad as gang-banging hoodrats that prey on the inner-city. Zimmerman stalked this young man, called it in to the police to get an excuse, instigated an altercation and stood on Florida's law to execute this young man."

      Geraldlott65 made perfect sense: it's not the clothing that these youth are wearing, it's the racist/bigoted attitudes behind them. If you just plain don't like black people, you'll find an excuse to cling to. I've since incorporated this commenter's logic into my brain and will have it at my ready disposal should anyone in my vicinity attempt to make the argument that clothing has anything to do with these types of crimes. I won't accept it anymore.

       The next thing I learned was that I can and do arrogantly dismiss things. Now while I would like to sit here and pretend that that behavior has been eradicated from my mind wholesale, it has in fact not been...just a singular aspect of it. I found myself reading several blog posts this morning from predominantly feminist points of view - this may be the topic of future entry here - and in one of the links I followed, I came across something called "Trigger Warnings" which, briefly stated, is a warning "...designed to prevent people who have an extremely strong and damaging emotional response (for example, post-traumatic flashbacks or urges to harm themselves) to certain subjects from encountering them unaware. Having these responses is called 'being triggered'." My initial asinine response was pretty much, "What kind of whiny pussy-ass shit is this?!" Very brutal and dismissive...perhaps even condescending, I'll grant that. My inner voice isn't exactly known for its subtlety.


      Thankfully, the wiki entry provided a link to (TRIGGER WARNING: This link contains information about sexual assault and/or violence which may be triggering to survivors) an essay written on a site called Dreamwidth by a blogger calling herself Impertinence. Although it was not her job to educate assholes like me about triggering, she chose to do so anyway and in so doing, explained it to me in a way that was perfectly sensible and made me feel ashamed for my private dismissal earlier (no one heard me think it is what I'm saying). It counts as another thing I've learned and something which I hope I will be mindful of should I ever actually enter into dark discussions in this blog o' mine.

      I'll leave it at that...

INIMANDVS IX

While I have had some good days, I have not been happy for almost thirteen years.

LINE OF THE DAY, part XIX

From ACockCalledChanticleer in the comments section of this article on Gawker:

(quoting from the article - bold added by commenter) He dropped out of school. He doesn't have any qualifications and it seemed like he wanted to stop me from getting a degree."

She first met Webber when they were at primary school.

"Throughout the whole relationship, he was a bit controlling and possessive really. If I didn't go to see him the moment I had some free time, he would start complaining

You have an internal compass. Use common sense. I didn't and it damn near cost me a childhood dream.

Ladies, if a man's educational/professional achievements are less than yours, simply make note of it and pay attention to how he responds to your ambition.

If he is ANYTHING but your biggest cheerleader when you want to pursue a higher goal dump his insecure fucking ass stat!

It doesn't start out with stalking. It will creep on you slowly. Don't make excuses for him. Good men want what's best for you, not what's convenient for them.

Later, the commenter added in response to other comments:

Women should never sacrifice significant earning potential for another's needs*. Any guy that wants to slow you down, wants to control you to the point of dependency. The easiest way to do this is by minimizing your success of feeding yourself and providing your own shelter. Any guy that wants to increase your dependence on him is setting the stage for other methods of mistreatment.

[*I realize that there are many SAHMs ["stay at home mom" is my best guess]. Please don't take this as a putdown. This is about subtle, long-lasting coercion not a conscious decision. We all make what we think are the best choices. Either way, there are risks.] 

      I admit when reading this article, I was originally feeling another round of "what the fuck is so wrong with me that women will not date me?" coming on because here is another case of a woman dating an abusive man and here I am without a police record, with a steady (though not prestigious) job, no debt, blah blah blah. And then I read this comment and it got me thinking...am I that guy?

      My professional achievements can only be generously described as "minimal" and my ambitions amount to living a quiet, fairly predictable life of leisure. One of the questions on OKcupid asked me if it was possible for someone to have too much ambition to which I answered "YES". One of the big things that attracts me to Bronx, for instance, is that she lives a simple life which she is content with. But am I that guy depicted in the comment? Am I an anchor meant to bring stability to the life of another or am I simply trying to weigh one down to keep them from getting away? If I seek only those who are not ambitious themselves, does that absolve me? If I am neutral toward another's ambitions, but not encouraging...is that the same as active discouragement? I don't feel so good right now...