One observation deserves another (Observation is the poor man's participation)

***A broker here is partners with her son-in-law. He is an asshole. I would be so pissed if I spent decades raising a child only for her to go marry some asshole who I now have to pass the rolls to at Thanksgiving, let alone work with.

***I'm tired of people asking me if something I wrote was about them. The answer is yes. Whether or not it actually was written about them because if you can find some kind of connection with what was said then it was about you. Stop asking.

***Everyone plays a part. Sometimes I wish I was the casting director then maybe I wouldn't blame everything and everyone I hate on miscasting.

***I'm going on vacation. Someone asked jokingly: "who approved that?" My answer: "God." Or at least he/she/it is the only one who can keep me from it.

***I can't imagine eating the same lunch everyday. I remember when I used to work at Starbucks I wondered how people could drink the same drink everyday. How boring. Then I realized these are the people to date because you know they don't have issues with commitment.

***The sound of the binding machine is slowly driving me insane. It sounds like a person screaming who is buried alive six feet under.

***Why is it that when everyone else goes on vacation I never am informed. Yet when I go on vacation it's like freakin national news story. Everyone coming up to me asking me where I am going. I'm considering going to Solvang so when people ask me I can say that I am going to "a small Danish village."

***Why are some people so creepy? Do they know they are creepy? Maybe I am creepy and don't know it. That's a creepy thought.

I don't know if I have a brain tumor or if I'm not getting enough sleep

Lately, my brain has been doing funny things. Now, my brain always does funny things in that everything it does is insane, but recently it's be effecting my elementary skills. The weirdest thing happened the other day I answered the phone at work and during the course of the conversation I was trying to say the word assistant, but I got stuck on the first part of the word. Simply uttering "assis" multiple times, like a CD stuck unable to move from the one spot thus skipping. I was stuttering uncontrollably in that moment, I couldn't stop, in fact my mouth actually began hurting because it was like my muscles were locked in one position. This freaked me out a little because I have never stuttered in my entire life, never. I thought this was an isolated instance, and in terms of the stuttering it was but the brain would soon find other ways to malfunction.

Yesterday my brain lost all sense of time in space in regards to my memories. I was talking to my coworker about my nieces and nephews, when I mentioned that my brother's wife was pregnant. It wasn't until about thirty seconds later that I realized my brother's wife wasn't pregnant because she gave birth a few months ago. I totally forgot the existence of my nephew. My brain honestly flashed back to last year when she was pregnant.

Then the day before yesterday I was totally shaking uncontrollably, not violently but like I had too much caffeine, only I didn't have that much caffeine, if I even had any. It was like all my nerves didn't know where to go so they just started to go every which way.

I am sure my problems are just stress. Even though I don't feel stressed. I have had a mild case of the flu recently. Or is it the flu. The hypochondriac that I am, I start to think that I have west Nile virus, or maybe it's the plague or ebola, every infectious disease starts with "flu like symptoms." I once had a doctor ask me why I was a hypochondriac, my response; "because I'm afraid of death." Like there is any other reason. So maybe my thoughts of having a brain tumor are all in my head. But, all these problems need to stop. Next week I am taking the week off of work to go home on vacation. Sadly, home is the only vacation I can afford. Hopefully when I get away from work and everything else, my mind will clear and once again function properly. Maybe then I will remember all my relatives. Maybe then I will remember what it is that I want and what it is that I can actually achieve. Maybe the brain punishes us with malfunction when we aren't using it to the best of our abilities. Just like when you neglect one part of your car if left unattended it will cause the whole car to brake down, thus forcing you to fix the initial problem.

I don't think sleep or a brain tumor is my problem. I think it is a different tumor altogether that needs to be removed. I'm just hoping that it isn't inoperable. Because with my shaking hands there is no way I will be able to hold a scalpel steady.

The custody battle

My world has been ripped apart. A silent battle has been taking place right here on the office floor. There are no real winner of this war. Only victims, fashion victims to be more precise. See the conflict that results in evil glares is over an article of clothing. A Gap skirt.

Both Iris and myself own the same said skirt. Now, Iris has very little idea that this fight is going on. She does know that we own the same skirt. However, she doesn't know that I track it. You see Iris has five rotating outfits for the week. Each week I wait to see what day she is going to wear it. Now knowing that I want to wear the skirt at least once every two weeks, so on the second week if I haven't seen it within first two days of the week I start hedging my odds. I try to think back to the days she typically wears the skirt, trying to graph it in my head. While her cycle of outfits are random in that they show up on any given day, I am sure that there is still some statical pattern to her randomness.

This might seem a bit over zealous, but you have no idea how cute and comfortable this skirt is. If it was merely one or the other I wouldn't really care. But you have no idea how hard it is to find a skirt that meets that criteria and is work appropriate. So the battle continues. For course if I was really troubled by this then I would create a schedule, but honestly playing the odds is much more fun.

Tragically Misunderstood

But aren't we all. Those philosophers that say that true communication is impossible might be on to something, but who really knows if that is what they meant. Language is so subjective and that combined with tone is utterly indecipherable. Most of the times I don't even know what I am trying to say. How can we expect the world to understand our meaning if we don't know it. Sure, we might understand our intent but our execution might not even remotely reflect our intentions.

I've always been fascinated by language. How it is a tool, the most powerful tool. It's a collective tool. Yet no one is exactly sure how to use it. I must admit that language haunts me. I want to write but I don't know any of the rules. I have this incredible tool at my finger tips but I don't know what buttons to press. How can I ever expect to be a writer if I don't know how to properly use the language? If I don't show the proper respect to language, language won't show me respect. If only I took the time to comprehend it all. Learned correct grammar and spelling. I'm so distorted if I think that I can be successful without knowing the basics.

Words and meanings are how we project ourselves to the world. I can't blame the universe for misunderstanding me if I don't say the correct thing. I often wonder why it is that I can be one way and come across another. I am nothing like what I appear. Why can't I learn to show who I really am. It's not that I am scared (although, there is some truth in that) but it's that I don't know how to portray myself any other way.

I can't understand how people open up to each other. Or maybe I am just as misguided in thinking that no one else feels the same way. Is everybody closed off, hiding who they really are? We are doomed to misinterpret everything and everybody. Can we ever really know anybody? Do we just mold our interpretation of others on what we want them to be. Atticus Finch's famous line: "You never really understand a person until you consider things from his point of view-until you climb into his skin and walk around in it." The only problem with that rational it that even though you are in someone else's skin, it is still you in their skin. Your view point and experience thrust upon their life.

But more powerful than speech is silence. I think I say the most important things when I don't say anything at all. It is the words that are never spoken, the understanding that is never confirmed, the thought that is never revealed which transcends all other communications. It's interesting that the things that are never said are the things that are the easiest to translate. Forget mathematics, silence is the universal language. Maybe it's not that silence is never misinterpreted but rather that there is never any confirmation one way or the other.

Everything that I just said might be impossible to understand. But the bottom line is: why can't I show my true colors to the world at large? I have a hard enough time opening up to the nameless, faceless, nonexistent people reading this blog. Maybe none of us are ever suppose to understand anyone. Life is to strive for understanding without ever achieving it. I glad we've come to this new understanding. Why don't we take a moment of silence to truly get to know each other.

Insert moment of silence.

Wait for it.

Wait for it.

There, now we know everything there is to know about one another. And boy, you are not the person I thought you were. From know on, I think I would prefer the misunderstanding of language because I really didn't need to know all of that about you. I need to go shower and vomit now. In the mean time realize that none of us are who we appear to be. Understanding that there is no understanding is the closest we might ever come to the actual truth. And truth be told, I'm actually fine with that. So, until our next misunderstanding...Have a great weekend (who knows if that is what I really mean). But I hope I gave new insight into the phrase: "What do you mean by that?"

Seriously, I was just kidding

I have a little bit of a problem. I can't seem to control myself. Everytime my mouth opens something happens that I can't control. I don't mean for it to but it's inevitable. I'm an instigator. It's what I do. The reason this is not my fault is because people always take what I say literally. I mention something in joshing and all of the sudden I find the people around me pursuing my idea. I really am Dr. Frankenstein recreated in the body of the monster.

People, I am joking, stop taking what I say at face value. Both of us will just end up embarrassed by whatever antics I've conjured up in my tiny brain. Yes, it might seem like fun, at first, but trust me when I tell you that it never ends well.

Honestly, I never knew my comedy had so much power. I'm like the Merlin of the humor world. On a side note: when writing my blog I often do feel like Merlin since it's like living your life backwards. You read the end before you read the beginning. But I will talk more about that thought in a different blog.

Why does everyone think my jokes would be so much funnier if they were lived out. The problem is that I surround myself with too many people who have a lot of cojones. Damn, I joke about these things because I know that I will never do them. I think the people around me look at it to be more like a dare than a hypothetical.

Although, this is where the Scorpio part comes in, I kind of get a little pleasure in the fact that I have that kind of power of persuasion over other people. I know that is slightly evil to think, but I can't help it. It's my one drug of choice. So maybe when I am blaming others it is really my own doing. I need to stop using the people around me like pawns in a chess game. No more sacrificing the pawns to protect the queen. I should start doing these things myself.

What is it that they say that 50% of every joke is the truth? I need to grow a pair and stop having others do my dirty work for me. I don't always want to be the mastermind. I feel bad that I am the General who sends my troops into battle simply because I like watching people get shot. I'm tired of having blood on my hands. Out damn spot, out I say. But really, where is the fun in that?

I'm really not pure evil despite the above passage illusion to that. Hey, every yin has a little yang and every yang has a little yin. I can't control my evil doings (or in this case, my evil sayings). Do not burn me at the stake for my wrongs, I can't control the fact that I am left handed. Sinister does mean: from the left. My horrible thoughts come from my right mind. In need out of my right mind.

Please don't hate me because my suggestions drive you to acts of insanity. It really isn't my fault. I just drew the map, you're the one that followed it. Maybe next time you will learn how to stop and ask for directions when nothing around you looks familiar. Just think of me as a test. But in case you fail, don't worry I have plenty of extra straight jackets in the back of my trunk.

Piss off

Today some asshole on the phone asked me if I knew what email was. I wanted to ask him if he knew what an asshole was. People are such bastards!!! I know I've become some what mechanic at answering the phone but despite my pre-recorded sounding greeting, there is an actual human being on the other end of this line. Just once I would like for someone to treat me like one. When you cut me, do I not bleed? When I hang up on you, do I not talk about what a piss ant you are?

The problem is when you are the low man on the totem pole then you are easy aim to piss on because if you try to piss on the top most likely you will end up with piss on your face. But the piss isn't confined to my leg, it also saturates the area around my desk. But that is more of a repercussion of dogs marking their territory. But everyone needs to ease up because I can't afford all this Resolve on my salary.

Really people should be kissing my ass for blessing them with my presence and my brilliance. I shouldn't have to put up with people's crap. They should have to put up with my conceit. Why do people always got to be putting me on the defensive? I'm small, I'm much better at point.

Why is it that the more wrong someone is the louder someone yells? Wrongness should be inversely proportional to volume of speech. I just want to be like: "Dude, I'm sorry your life is such a miserable piece of dung that you have to make me feel smaller thus bringing the only tidbit of joy known to your existence that you can possibly muster up; therefore, making no difference to you that it is at someone else's expense."

Someone just put me on hold to answer their call waiting. Umm. I don't think so buddy. This is a switchboard for over 125 employees, we got to keep the line moving. I can stop to make small pleasantries and giggle for a nano second, but this is a loading and unloading zone only, don't make me tow your ass. I hate the fact that once someone is an ass to you, you inadvertently begin to be an ass to them. It is this horrible cycle. Started by one.

I wonder about the world's first asshole. What was the initial incident that set it all off? Because asshole is a dominate gene that is always inherited or acquired. Was the first incident a result of a woman PMSing or a man who was sexually frustrated (possibly because said woman was PMSing). Did someone accidentally throw a fellow caveman's favorite pet rock into the river and unable to swim to rescue said precious item the caveman invented some cuss words in retaliation? Or is it a post industrial phenomenon, some factory worker became jealous because of the break down of production into the assembly line since he wasn't assigned to making widgets, and widgets were his favorite part of the entire building process, so he threw a wadget at the head of the widget maker. I don't know, but curse the asshole who started the trend.

Now I must suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune. I swear, the wealthier people are the more worried they are about their money. You have to deal with clients that call everyday because they have nothing better to do than check on their ever growing pile of money. I just want to be like: "Don't worry buddy, you still have more money than me and if God was one of us than you would have more money than God too. So why don't you go and enjoy the marvels that the world has to offer and leave little old me alone to blog all day, really it will serve both of us better that way."

Whenever, wherever, whoever the asshole was created I just wish that they would become extinct already. Then maybe I wouldn't be so bitter all of the time, instead I would just be bitter some of the time. Trust me, the world would be a better place if that happened because my bitterness is like the Richter scale, every point of magnitude is ten times greater in amplitude. My earthquakes occur on the asshole fault. Today there has been a lot of seismic activity. I hope this blog wasn't too big of an aftershock for you all. I don't want to be the asshole who sets off a whole series of quakes. But I don't think it is too bad. I'd give my rant a 2.4.

Teeter Totter on its way up

Life is a fine balance. Life is a teeter totter it has the ability to be in balance but rarely finds it. But the purpose of a teeter totter is not to be in balance, if it was then it wouldn't be a fun playground activity, it would just be a seat. While life can find a fine balance that too isn't any fun. Really life is like what President Wilson said about peace: "I want peace and I'm willing to fight for it." We all want balance, but we shoot to the highs and plung to the lows to try to find that balance. We make our lives unbalanced in order to achieve balance.

My life is always out of wack even though nothing is really a matter with it. Sometimes we create unrest. The status quo is never good enough. But upheaval tears you apart, you have to tear things down before you can build them back up again. Luckily, I'm beginning to think that I might be on a bit of an upswing. But that is just a thought.

When did I become the class smart ass?

Why is it that we change and we don't even know it? Sure we know when we change over night because some incident occurred that rocked the foundation of our believes and we are immediately changed by it. This is not the change I am referring to. I'm talking about the incremental changes that proceed without or knowledge and sometimes without our consent.

I've recently come to the understanding that I am now the sarcastic smart ass kid in the class. I use to be so soft spoken, I don't know what happened. I've also developed a habit of putting my foot in my mouth, I use to have a keen nack for knowing what was and wasn't appropriate to say. Maybe I've learn to let my guard down or maybe I've let my Id overpower my ego and super ego. Whatever.

Not all metamorphosis are voluntary, in fact most are not. Usually when we try to change our body rejects it, changes only can happen through a natural progress. That is what Marx says about Marxism or political scholars say about why imposed democracies are doomed to fail because they were not achieve through revolution. I don't remember the last time I revolted against myself, sure there have been some uprisings but no successful revolt. So how did I become a loud mouth punk?

I suppose I am a result of the Glorious Revolution, the only revolution that involved no blood spill. But if that were the case I would still remember the willingness to fight. Alas, there very little fight left in me, so that can't be the case. How can I change without my permission or acknowledgement? It seems like if I'm going to go through hassle of change then it should be for something good.

Who knows, maybe the smart ass is a change for the better. I suppose I was boring. I guess it is better to be annoying than boring, at least you're memorable in some sense then. To change your mind is easy, to change your habits is hard. I change my mind about which habits to change.

So maybe change isn't something you pursue it's just something that happens. It's not the internal forces that are hard at work but rather the external forces that we allow in that will influence our lives. Thus, I am a smart ass because I surround myself with people who facilitate that change or I'm trying to drive away people who won't appreciate it. I'm hoping that the smart ass stage is just that: a stage, I consider it to be my feudalism on my route to socialism. I wonder what the dialectic has to say about that.

Oh my GOD!!!!

Ron Livingston just came into the office. I have to go die now. This long day is now the best day of my life. Of course I have seen him before but this time was better because I didn't know he was coming. I offically love my job. Maybe if I am lucky he will need parking validation. I will take my time with that.

Craft Piracy

Marth Stewart stole my headboard!!!! The magazine that was given to me was Martha Stewart Living. She won't be living for long, how dare she steal my headboard. It is a good thing that mine is ten times cooler, at least when it is completely finished, i.e. nailed together. I am so mad. Now I know how Xerox felt.

The days were so long but the week was so short.

This day will never end. Why are all the moronic people calling today, don't they know that is what Monday is for. The phone goes quiet and then lights up like a lightbright forming a freaky clown face at me. Thousands of Jack-in-the-boxes pop out all at once. I can't pick up the calls fast enough, they just keep coming. They just keep annoying. I can't handle one more dialogue like the following:

Them: "Is so and so there?"
Me: "They've stepped away from their desk, would you like to leave a voicemail for them?"
Them: "Maybe you can help me."

The eyes begin to roll back into my head.

But really I want to respond, "No. I can't help because I don't actually understand what this company does or how it works, so really you would be much better off leaving the voicemail as I suggested and waiting with baited breath for the response otherwise I will just give you some answer that I pull for the nether regions of my ass which will not satisfy either of us and leave me with a hand that smells like...well you know."

But bitterness aside, this day won't end. I think the world might end before this day. I think the mountains might crumb before the end of this day. But sorry folks, I don't think this blog will end before this day. I'm so bored. Someone entertain me. When I'm rich I am totally going to hire a court jester to entertain me.

I'm so bored that I really don't have anything to write but I am bored so I will write nonetheless. This last week the world has come to a stop or maybe just me. I'm standing still watching everything and everyone rotate around me. And no, I don't think the world revolves around me, I think it revolves without me.

Some one stop this plane, I want to get off. I always seem to pull the wrong cord on my parachute. Wouldn't it be weird if the regular shoot worked but the emergency shoot didn't. I know you wouldn't need the emergency shoot if the regular one work but it is just funny by definition. Sometimes I feel as though my emergency shoot is defective this worries me even though I not jumping off any planes.

Oh, someone just brought me a magazine to read. I'm so gone from this sad blackhole soul sucking of a place. But see you guys tomorrow, or Monday. Have a great weekend. That's assuming this day actually does end. That has yet to be seen.

Hopelessly Confused

Just because something isn't wrong does that mean it is right. I feel like I live my whole life this way. We tend to rationalize things as being right simple because there is nothing wrong with them. Whether it is a relationship or a work situation the lack of cons doesn't add up to pros. But the risk of change brings fear that it could be worse. Is it better to stay put because you are content rather than risk the possibility of misery.

I am eating myself up inside with thoughts of the future and the present. I want to make sure that the present facilities a pleasant future, but at the same time I don't want a present that is consumed by thoughts of the unknown quantity. I guess that is the problem you must face when you have a "day job" which only provides monetary compensation. To ask yourself to rely on the faith of your dream to make it all seem worthwhile. But all faith wavers. Faith is hard, it questions you everyday. I worry about the one day when it pushes me to the brink. So I wonder where I want to be on that day.

The saying goes: "expect the worst, and hope for the best" (or something to that effect). Dreams require so many elements to come together in just the right formation and time. And in the right place, which place would that be. Maybe leaving one place will tamper with the set course or maybe it will spark it.

And then comes the issue of loyalty. I'm naturally an extremely loyal person. I feel like I'm betraying a person or a place by even looking to change situations. There is always a huge problem when one is loyal and also non-confrontational. I don't want to leave my situation but I don't know how to change it. If I fix the problems than I might realize that the car is still a piece of crap. Or worse yet maybe it needs a whole new engine.

My confusion is only made arithmetically worse by my emphasis of my decision being the end all be all of my life. Why do I weight my decisions in the next few weeks to be earth shatteringly important when really every single decision we make alters our path in life. I'm a fool for thinking and a fool for not thinking enough. I see the road in front of me I'm just not sure what exit to take. I hope that if I take the wrong one than at least it will be easy off/ easy on.

Money sucks, especially when you don't have any.

The other day I had to go "poor" grocery shopping. Filling my basket with milk, mac and cheese, and p & j makings. I thought that time in my life was over. I'm not in college any more, I have a job, why am I still reduced to "poor" grocery shopping? This realization pushed me further down the ever increasingly slippery slop of depression. It doesn't help matters that my roommates are out of town. My only daily bonding is with the tinny tiny dog left behind for me to tend to.

The two of us just sprawl across the sofa watching whatever the TiVo has recorded. Although, last night we watched our Netflix, Tupac Resurrection. I have to say that I actually quite enjoyed it. It was so cool that the voiceover was all Tupac. Sometimes it was eerie listening to him talk about his own death, maybe the conspiracy theorist are correct, maybe he is alive. I can't imagine giving an interview or making a recording with all my thoughts of my life and my death. Blogging is the closest I will come to that.

It's weird how he knew he was going to die. Granted, he was shot five times a few years before which might have been some kind of indication, but still it is creepy. The fact that he stock piled albums because he knew he didn't have much time, recording like 24 songs in two weeks alone. But if fearing death was all it takes to be productive creatively then I would have written the Iliad and the Odyssey by now. However, he didn't fear death he knew that it was coming.

Anyways, it was an interesting documentary. More interesting was the fact that it was all in his words more than the words themselves. Still, I was thoroughly intrigued. Might I suggest that you add it to your queue.

Why is Tuesday such a bitchday?

I hate Tuesday! It is the worst day of the week. That must be why they release movies and music on Tuesday because they know we need a good release on the day that I will no longer say. You can't blame it for being Monday and you can't celebrate it as the hump day, it is just the crap day. I abhor bitchday.

Who am I kidding, everyday is bitchday; at least in my universe. Why bitch today when you can continue to bitch tomorrow? That's what I always say.

I need to go home and watch some really appallingly bad movie. Bad art makes me feel elevated. Please, Starz, don't let me down. I know Glitter or From Justin to Kelly has to be on some movie station. Fingers crossed with heart longing.

Full of Sound and Fury

"To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow; a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more: it is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing."

I don't know why this quote from Macbeth choose me this morning. In fact, whatever has drawn me to this quote, scares me. The unstoppable force of my mind leads me in directions that I do not wish to follow. But I worry because I don't have any bread crumbs to drop. How am I suppose to find my way back? I feel as though I know the end of this path but I do not know the beginning. Where did it all start? What pushed the first domino? Why did I not space one of them far enough away to stop the effect?

I am trapped in my head. I don't know how to escape these thoughts. My thoughts have become so loud that everyone can hear them. Can you hear them now? They are so loud that I cannot hear them, I can only feel them vibrating through my core.

How can I escape a desert island when I don't know how I got there? I stare out at the waves. Each time one crashes to the shore I feel my life come crashing down with it. Once I have made the thunderous noise I slowly glide back into the ocean. The water slips away along with any feeling that I had. My emotions have become like the water: calm, peaceful, and numb; a sudden burst of emotion comes slamming down; then slowly drift back out to the numbness.

The line from Amazing Grace pulsates through my mind. "I once was lost but now I'm found." Oh, how I long for that to be so. I want so badly to be found. I don't know why I can't find myself. I'm hard to miss under these fluorescent lights. My problem is that I don't want it to signify nothing, I just haven't found a way for it to signify anything. But, alas, I will keep on trying. Because this idiot is determined to make a sound louder than my thoughts. I just have to find out what sound that is, but I'll know it when I hear it.