Whatever happened to this site?

That's really all I wanted to say. I'm used to giving up on things, I'm a born quitter. But I have to admit it really makes me laugh that as a generation of lazy fucks we've even given up on this little site. Although to be fair a site based on whining about how much life sucks was probably going to get old after a while anyway. Not for me, mind you. I'm also a born complainer, so reading complaints is actually entertaining for me.

But then again I also wonder to myself whether people just don't want to recognize how shitty things are in their lives. I mean, if I had a crappy job and a crappy place to live (of which I have 50% at the moment) and I really didn't like my life, I doubt I'd want to visit a site like this and read all about the same feelings I had. Just because it's easier to pretend things are ok if no one else says anything. (Not that I think everyone who ever visited this site has a crappy life. I'm really not trying to insult anyone here, which is a first for me.)

But I'm sure that's just me overthinking. Afterall, I don't really have anything better to do.

By the way, don't become a mailman. It sucks.

Adult Literacy

So I'm 24 years old, and I just started reading books. Probably not a great sign. Better late than never, I guess.

I think that might be a generational thing. Although maybe not, I do know people my age who read. It's tough-I'll watch awful crap on TV anyday before I open a book. That just feels like homework, or something.

I'm backed up on books right now. I got one I'm in the middle of, one after that, and a couple more I want to get. I like non-fiction, actually-history, politics, biographies.

You know who I'd love to read a biography on? Hitler. Specifically, I've always wanted to know if anybody ever wrote anything on what his plans for the Japanese were if Germany won the war.

Has anybody ever wrote anything on that? That fascinates me.

Because you just know, Hilter wasn't going to just let it slide. He wasn't going to be like, "Hey, Japan. I know you don't fit into my master Aryan race, the one where no one has any pigment, but... ah what the hell, help yourself to some Beck's and new VW. Just you take your half of the world and we'll take ours, whatevs..."

Like you just know somewhere in Hitler's office there was day planner lying around somewhere that read--

NOTE TO SELF-RE: Japan.

"If the Allies don't take the atomic bombs they've secretly been testing and bomb the Japanese...BOMB THE JAPANESE!

P.S. Don't forget Eva's pint of Cherry Garcia."--

I take it back. That's actually the biography I want to read. Could you imagine being Eva Braun, the person who banged Hitler? A Hitler-fucker, if you will...

And, I don't if there is an afterlife or not, but you gotta imagine banging the most evil person who ever lived has to be bad enough to go to Hell.

Imagine she gets to the Heaven and St. Peter, or St. Paul, or whoever the fuck runs the gate is like, "Well, let's see here. You were affiliated with the Nazi party, which is pretty bad. Then again they'll be able to say that about the Pope in sixty years or so, so I guess we can't hold that against people anymore. On the other hand, you did bang Hitler. And, on the list of the worse five things in history, banging Hitler ranks somewhere around number 3 between feeding someone their own parents and having anything to do with the perpetuation of The Simple Life...with, of course, the number 1-ACTUALLY BEING ADOLF HITLER! Anyway, long story short, you don't need that sweater where you're going."

I had a point when I started. Oh, yeah...reading is fundamental.

"That Stuff Will Rot Your Brain..."

So it's been said of our generation we watch entirely too much television and too many movies. To which I've always replied, "No such thing." But, I'm starting to think our parents were right because I think popular culture has finally broken my brain.

The last few nights I've been having the weirdest dreams. Usually, I don't even remember my dreams because they're so boring and mundane. In fact, they're so commonplace on rare occassions I've had trouble distinguishing between them and real life. So periodically I'll say things to myself like, "Did I ACTUALLY go to Subway yesterday?" But, all of sudden Hollywood has finally broken through into my subconscience.

Two nights ago I dreamt I was hanging out in Trenton, NJ with Samuel L. Jackson. Although, he wasn't really Samuel L. Jackson but more like a non-descript Samuel L. Jackson character like the guy he played in Die Hard 3 or Snakes on a Plane. And, then last night I dream I'm on vacation with my parents waiting for a train, and I look over and my mother is talking to two girls-it's the Hilton sisters! And, I wake up and I'm like, "What the hell is wrong with my dreams lately?"

I mean, granted, it's not the first time I've dreamt about Paris Hilton. But, usually, it's just the one dream over and over again. She goes on a talk show to promote a movie she's going to be in or that album she made, and I just walk out of the audience and proceed to bop her on the nose with a rolled up newspaper. And, I say, "Paris! No! Look at me. NO," you know, maintaining eye contact the whole time so she knows that I'm the alpha male...

The Successes and Failures of Preventing the Early Grave

A month ago I posted a blog about how I was trying to get in shape. Now usually, a month later after that type of resolution I'd already have given up entirely. And, mostly because being healthy is really hard, but being unhealthy feels really good. But, I'm trying, which has yielding successes and failures.

I went surfing today for the first time in over a year. Unfortunately, despite mustering up the effort there were no waves whatsoever. I actually got more of a workout buying the movie, Blue Crush, than I did today surfing. Still I felt like it was a moral victory.

I had written in my last post on this subject that I had given beer and cigarettes. The bad news, the beer didn't take. I've cut down, definitely. But, it just didn't work out with total barley/hops abstinence, and I'll tell you why-beer is the drink of the people, the common man. And, I'm nothing if not a man of the people. I think I went about 10 days without a beer which tops my record in the last five years by about ten days... Athough in my defense, I had like ten beers the whole month and there was a time, and I'm not proud of this, that if I had drank 10 beers, that meant it was about 7 P.M. on any given day. Moral Victory.

I am however, much more proud to say that I have not had a single cigarette in a month and have no desire to. ...I did smoke a lot of cigars though, like A LOT. But, not because I enjoy them, but because I'm trying to be more like my idol Groucho Marx...who I think was one of the three Stooges...Moral Victory.

I think I had a point when I started-something about Rome not being built in a day. Well, what have you.

The Decision

So I started posting on this site with a dilemna I had. I didn't know whether or not I should take a promotion at a job that meant absolutely nothing to me. I thought about it, then some more, then some more after that, and ultimately I turned it down as of this past Sunday. Why? Because at the end of the day I just couldn't sell out over another 1.75 an hour and a future at a company that means nothing to me.

It's one thing to have a crappy job. It's another to have a crappy career. That just feels so permanent, and I couldn't have that. Maybe it's me-I'm sure I have commitment issues across the board. But, the thought of being at the same stupid meaningless job a year from now, two, five...it just kills me. I have dreams and goals, and I'm going to try like hell to reach them, and if I fail then I fail, but with 8 days before my 24th birthday I'm just too young to start settling for less.

The Anti-Vote™

I’ve decided there needs to be a new system for voting. Because Hilary and Obama suck, and Edwards, who used to be my number one, is pissing me off with this “America isn’t ready for gay marriage” bullshit, (Even though I guess in honesty everyone except Dennis Kucinich is pretty much saying the same bullshit; and how can anyone possibly vote for that guy? He looks like a pedophile. Seriously, I mean you can joke around about what a pedophile “looks like”, but God, have you seen this guy?) I don’t really want to vote for anyone. I mean, what does that even mean? America isn’t ready for gay marriage? When will it be ready? How will we prepare to get ready? But anyway that’s not the point.

I want to vote so I can exercise my freedom of choice, but these douchebags suck. So here’s what I propose: voting against a candidate instead of directly voting for one. Basically it’s the same principal as voting for Nader or Ross Perot, except you’re not directly flushing your vote down a toilet, so you don’t feel as bad.

Here’s how the brand new (and copyrighted) Anti-Vote™ works: you can either vote directly for a single candidate, like in the old days, or you can use your Anti-Vote™ against a single candidate. You either get one traditional vote or one Anti-Vote™. You can’t vote against multiple people or parties. When all the voting is done, all the traditional votes are added up. But then comes the new part. All the Anti-Votes™ are added up, and that number is subtracted from a candidate’s total number of votes. So, for example, had the Anti-Vote™ been in practice in 2004, everyone who realized John Kerry was a stupid douche (which I hope was pretty much anyone who voted for him) could have simply used their Anti-Vote™ against Bush. Now, ultimately Kerry would’ve won, because even though few people would’ve directly voted for him, so many people would’ve Anti-Voted™ against Bush that Kerry would’ve wound up on top. But, then at least for the next four years we all could have said, “Hey, don’t blame me. I didn’t vote for Kerry. I Anti-Voted™ against Bush.” And I think then we would have felt a lot better about ourselves when Kerry consistently fucked up, which he no doubt would have.

Because my hatred for jerks like Rudy Giuliani and John McCain outweighs any slight admiration I might still have for Edwards or any other Democrat, I would use my Anti-Vote™ against Rudy or McCain if either wins the Republican nomination. But I think the beauty of the Anti-Vote™ is that really it just adds more choice to our democratic election process. Now you would have to choose whether you wanted to vote for someone, or against someone else. You might actually have to think more about your vote. (I should add that the Anti-Vote™ would only be available in final elections, not primaries. Otherwise candidates might actually become more bland and generic so as to avoid pissing off potential voters who could vote against them.) Plus, with the new voting system, it would hopefully be harder for losers to contest election results in court because people wouldn’t simply be voting for one jerk or the other, but could also vote against certain jerks, making it more clear who should win or lose.

Christina Aguilera:The Unlikely Rock

So with all the celebrities our age having gone wild in the media lately: Britney, Paris, Lindsay, Nicole Richie, I think everyone who thought 5 years that Christina Aguilera lost her mind when she came out with the "Dirrty" video owes her a big apology...

'Cause clearly, she turned out to be the stable one. Like she's married now (to a guy who doesn't leech off her fame), she's been dressing all classy lately , she's doing jazzy little pop tunes... she's our generation's Aretha Franklin, quite frankly.

And, that's the thing right there, because, again, 5 years ago everybody was like "oww, she's gone too far!" Which, just shows how little we knew back then about what "too far" really was. Nowadays the biggest young female stars are going to jail, Britney, who was her biggest kind of competition has kind of gone over the edge, and Christina, like a real adult, has kind of grown-up and matured, and pulled herself together even moreso as opposed to following apart like her contemporaries. Which is, especially amazing when you consider the fact that she was actually the talented one. Like when Britney, Christina, and Jessica Simpson all came out at once-it was very clear with Aguilera, "Okay, this girl actually has the pipes. She can really sing." And, normally, it's the most talented people who usually fall hardest. Because while Janis Joplin, Jimmy Hendrix, and Jim Morrison all left this world way too early-clearly, in this topsy-turvy world, The Backstreet Boys will live forever...

So I applaud you, Miss Aguilera, for proving to our nation's youth that an entertainer who is actually good at her job can also stay off drugs and out of prison. Kudos.

Trying to Get In Shape

So a week ago I decided that I miss being in shape. See-long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away I actually did not have the body of Keith Richards. Oh, I used to swim laps, lift weights, I used to surf every day. You wouldn't know it to look at me now, but I was actually a human being once.

But, then I had a hernia that needed surgery, and I stopped working out, and I never really started again. On top of which I I started smoking, started drinking more, started referring to bacon and cheese as condiments...it's not pretty.

Now for a long time I was content to just give up on ever being healthy again entirely, and as much as I hate to be a flip-flopper, I decided I might need to settle in for the long haul. See-I never actually thought I would live this long. I always figured I'd go out young and leave a beautiful corpse like James Dean. However, from my experience, much like The Grimace, it seems as if no conventional means can kill me. As such, if I'm going to live a long life it's probably better to do so without emphysema, cirrhosis, quadruple bypasses, etc.

So this past week I gave up two staples of my very being-beer and cigarettes, or as I called them, "my comfort foods." And, I don't miss them...yet. Because the first couple days of giving up stuff is always relatively easy. Oh, they say it's the hardest time, but they are wrong. Let me tell you what the hardest time is-having to sit through anyone you find boring, annoying, or just plain stupid without a drink or a smoke. I don't claim to know anything about this world let alone if there is any sort of afterlife, but let me tell you that if there is a Hell then I'm pretty sure I'm going to be sitting in hot room between Paris Hilton and Al Gore with an empty pack of Pall Malls and a bone-dry bottle of Johnny Walker Black, begging for the devil to just stab me in the eyes with a pitch fork repeatedly instead.

The Internet-An Underrated Appendage

So I didn't have the internet for four days, and it kind of felt like being an amputee. Oh, I could live without a phone. Truth be told, when people call me on the phone I'm almost a little bit upset sometimes. It's like, "Why are you calling here? Just send me an e-mail. I don't need to hear actual voices. I'm good; I believe it's you."

And, I think that's a generational thing. I think every generation kind of adopts the newest technology as "their technology." When the phone was first invented people didn't even have them. And, then the cell phone came out, and I can remember less than ten years ago looking at people who had cell phones and drank bottled water, and saying, "Yuppie bastards..." Now it's ten years later, my primary phone is a cell phone, and while I'm not disgusted if someone hands me tap water, I pay for it in bottles like the rest of my peers.

But, we were basically the first generation to have e-mail. Readily accessible, anyway. We were the AOL generation. I do everything pretty much via e-mail right down to getting my schedule from my job. If I can't access my e-mail then I can't go to work. Not to mention my job involves me going somewhere different every day, without Map Quest I might as well take out a compass...

I think it was Thoreau who said, "A man is rich by the amount things he can live without?" You just don't realize how dependent you are on these things until they aren't there anymore.

What's in a name?

This is the third time I've changed the name that appears on this blog. Why? It mirrors my struggle to figure out who I am, what I'm all about, what I want to be. Do I need to do it right now? No, but I feel lost without it. There's something unsettling about not knowing who you are, not knowing where you're going. Shouldn't life be about the journey? It is, at least until you realize that so many others have already arrived. I wonder if arrival is scarier than the journey...

I started this post wanting to talk about how I have so few friends where I live. I keep wanting to move, keep wanting to escape from what isn't working and what doesn't make me happy. But for what? To where? It's the questions, the details that paralyze me. Paralysis. That's it. I feel paralyzed. But I'm in my 20s. I can go anywhere, do anything, become anyone. So why do I feel so trapped?

Always Go With What You Know-Even If That's Nothing

So an old friend of mine just brought to my attention that my last blog wasn't all that creative. And, you know what? She was right. I tried to take a broad topic that we could all relate to religion (or, faith, or spirituality-whatever you wanna call your beliefs, or lack thereof) and used that to dovetail into a bunch old, recycled musings from the ghost of blogs' past because I happened to think there was traces of wisdom in them at the time.

But, that's not what this experiment is. It's not the old- it's the right now. So what do I know right now? Truthfully, nothing. You wanna know what it's like to be in your twenties, trying to grow up, trying to make things happen? In my experience you spend a lot of time being lost. Why? Because you don't know shit. And, you probably won't until your at least 30 and more realistically 40 and 60 and 80. That's why I don't understand why people can get married before they're 30. It's not because I don't believe in love. I just don't believe I know what it is yet.

That's what this decade is-we're still figuring it all out. And, if you disagree; if you think you know what you're doing. Boy, I envy you. Because I don't have a clue what I'm doing. I can't even get a cover letter in the mail for lastest book without getting it sent back to me for insufficient postage. Does that sound like somebody who has a lock on his life?

I know where I'm going tomorrow, and that's about it. And, honestly, anything else is pushing it. With my luck I'll finally know everything I'll ever need to know the day I die...but I'll have the flu that day and won't be able to use it. You know what though...that information is still gonna make me smile just like I'm smiling right now.

Maybe some of you can relate?

And, like another old friend of mine used to say-

Peace Out, Cub Scouts!

My Sins

So I was raised a Catholic. During which, I struggled with the faith until I finally left it behind. As you get older you wonder why your parents would put you through that. I suppose it's due to some underlying desire to instill values that they don't know how to. Still I can't help but feel that while doctrines of faith are overrated, occasionally a value can be found in a tenet or so. Confession, for one. I don't think I've been to confession for nearly half my life at this point. Truthfully, I don't even believe in God. I've just seen too much to disprove it.

Nevertheless, they say confession is good for the soul. As such, these are my sins from the last 12 years:

I have abused drugs and alcohol to numb myself to the pain within me and to insulate myself from the world around me.

I've taken pleasure in the pain of others.

On occasion I've caused the pain of others in the hopes that it would somehow make me feel better about myself.

I have responded to those whom I felt have slighted me in kind rather than turning the other cheek.

I've taken people and things for granted simply because I could.

I've been selfish, inconsiderate, belligerent, and at worse, cold and emotionless.

And, I swear to Whatever that I honestly never did any of these things with malice aforethought. I never had the desire to be a "bad" person. I don't think most people do. Mostly, I just couldn't help myself. I tried to do the right things, but for a long time they were just too hard. Then when my sins brought me to my knees I realized that this wasn't much of a life. Since then I've done my best to change. Perhaps, I have. Perhaps, I haven’t. Only time will tell. Most importantly I say all of this both aloud and written not to ask for forgiveness, but in the hopes of preventing it in the future. Because if we don't grow, evolve, then what's the point?

Top 5 Stupid FAQs About My Crappy Job

So I work for an inventory company. Basically, this company is hired by different retail companies to come into their retail stores and count everything in the store. This is how companies get inventory reports, which help them learn things such as how much money they lose each year from shoplifting and lots of other boring economic crap. Anyway, each day I go to a different store and count stuff. Me and lots of other people. It’s not a hard concept to understand, and yet many people don’t understand it. The following is a list of stupid questions people constantly ask me:

1. “Really, you work in grocery stores, too? What do you count there?”
I count the tiles on the fucking floor. What the hell do you think I count there? It’s a store, it has shit, I count the shit. What’s complicated about that?

2. “Do you work here?” or “Do you know where (insert product) is?” or “How much does this cost?”
This question often comes from old people in stores while I’m actually counting. Here’s why that question pisses me off: everyone who works for my company wears a uniform. Generic black pants and shoes, and the red (or grey for supervisors) shirt the company gives us. The company name is embroidered on the sleeves of this red shirt. So there’s nothing better than being in a Lowes, where all the employees wear blue vests, and having some dumbass ask me a question about where shit is. I guess I forgot that red and blue look the same to morons, and a collared shirt looks just like a fucking vest.

3. “So what else do you do, besides counting?” or “Is that really all you do? Just count?”
I don’t how to make it any simpler. I count all day, then I go home. I work for an inventory company. The name says it all.
Oh wait, I forgot. I count all day, then I go downtown to headquarters where I fight inventory vampires. You know, the kind that like to miscount everything and try to get away with it. Dirty vampires.

4. “Oh, you’re in a different store everyday?”
Nope, I go to one CVS every single day and count. This particular CVS needs to know exactly what is in their store and how much of it every single day. They might actually sell shit, and so obviously everything needs to be recounted daily to reflect these sales.

5. “You must be really good at math, huh?”
Oh I guess I forgot to mention, I went to MIT and have a degree in advanced mathematics. Yeah, and that’s why I work for nine dollars an hour doing remedial counting.
It’s not like they send us in there with a pencil and paper and expect us to use our brains; we point and click on the laser and it sends the information into the mini-computer we use. A trained chimp could do the job.

Slow Down, Science!

In case you haven't noticed, in the last few years a whole lot of stuff's been going on in the scientific community. NASA’s got all kinds of cool stuff planned in outer space; new energy sources are being discussed and discovered as we speak; and lots of other crazy stuff too, I'm sure. But my main concern here is the medical field. Life expectancies are way up, and we have new drugs and treatments for all kinds of diseases and conditions. And that's great. Or is it? Don't get me wrong, treating the sick is a great thing. No one should have to suffer from medical ailments.

But I'm beginning to think science is to blame for my laziness and lack of a real job. You see, I graduated college in '05, and applied to lots of jobs during that summer. In October I briefly went down to Florida for a job, but then returned home with lots of goals and dreams. I then proceeded to lounge around and do absolutely nothing for a year and a half. I didn't work at all. I barely even applied to jobs. And why? Because of stupid science and all its dumbass "breakthroughs." Here's what I'm getting at: one hundred years ago, I couldn't possibly have afforded to sit on my ass for a year and a half at age 23. I would've been dead by age 40. It would've been time to start my life and my family by age 16 or so. But in today's world, I'm gonna live to be over 100, so what's the point in rushing out and getting started now?

I'm only gonna get bored sooner if I start busting my ass now. And granted, I may not have medical insurance, but it's not like I have to worry about getting sick. We can treat practically anything. Because I know I'm gonna live a long time, and I'm probably gonna be healthy, I don't really care about getting on with my life. It'd be nice to move out and live on my own, but not if it means working hard. Science is really screwin me here.

And it's only gonna get worse as I get older. By the time I'm forty there'll probably be all kinds of crazy stem cell medications and stuff. I could probably chop off my arm and just have it grown back. And what's gonna be the point of working hard if I don't have to worry about permanently losing an arm? Science is slowly taking away all the former pressures of life. Stay out of society's norms, science! We're supposed to fear all kinds of stuff and therefore get crappy jobs and lives.

I work a crappy retail job now, and I hate it a lot, so I'm probably gonna quit soon and return to my former ways of sleeping a lot and watching DVDs. I think 30 is the new 16, so I've got like 5 years until I really need to worry about getting going with my life. But by then, I'm sure science will find some way to screw me again. And if not, I've got a long list of other people and things to blame for my lack of motivation. Watch out Steve Jobs, you're next.

Life in the Future

Dippin Dots have been "the ice cream of the future" for most of my life. Most people eat regular ice cream. This is a failure of our parents' generation.

Their parents' generation polished off the Germans and Japanese and came home and built a spaceship and took it to the moon. Our parents won the Cold War by default and a few years later they made ice cream that looks like little styrofoam balls and they sold it at Six Flags. What the hell happened to the moon?

Of course there are other theories. Ok so maybe after the Cold War somebody built a time machine and went to the future and everyone was eating Dippin Dots. And the guy was like "I gotta have these" and the future people said "we have lots of extra, take some, sell it at Six Flags" and the guy came home and scrapped the time machine. Which would explain why we don't have time machines but we still have Dippin Dots. That's probably not it.

Our generation came up with YouTube and E-bay and got the word "twentyfour-seven" into the dictionary. And we demanded martian landers and flying cars and instead we got iPods and stealth bombers. So I can't go live on the moon but I can watch TV on my phone. And I have to drive on roads. Imagination is dead. Or we need to grow up quicker, and get more say.

So if you're say sixty or something and the best you thought of is Dippin Dots and bombing the shit out of other countries, then you should resign and let one of us takeover. And there should be 5 parties or more so there's less deadlock and I don't have to fear for my grandchildren. And then we could have consensus and we could override vetoes when eighty five percent of us agree and three assholes think otherwise.

And we can bring back the stealth bombers and turn them into flying cars, and fly over to Ben and Jerry's and eat regular ice cream and go "screw you, Dippin Dots. You were wrong. This is the future."

Just a thought.

Forged by the Devil

So I’ve decided the hardest part about being young and desperately trying to make something of yourself isn’t the hard work. Granted, constantly swinging for the fences and usually only hitting foul balls can be frustrating. Yet, there is something in this world far more evil. Naturally, I’m talking about the mere existence of My Super Sweet 16.

Now if you haven’t seen it because you’re too busy having a life allow me to explain. You see, My Super Sweet 16 is an evil program existing on MTV that shows us the real problem plaguing America, spoiled rich girls. And, I don’t like spoiled rich girls because, well quite frankly, I envy them too much.

What, it’s not bad enough I only make like 350 dollars a week between two jobs then come home to try and write books and films so I can make something out of myself one day? I have to be aware of the fact that there are girls in this country turning 16, pissed at their fathers because they can only get a SLK Mercedes and not a SL, too? As if my life wasn’t filled with enough metaphorical kicks in the balls, that’s the knowledge I needed to keep me up at night?

The cruelty of the show’s existence into the inner-workings of these families with way too much money, and apparently not a hint of discipline, is matched only by the sheer bitchiness of these girls who seemingly can never (and most likely, will never) be satisfied. My hatred of this show hit its peak one day when I saw a full-length movie on MTV. I didn’t even watch the movie; I didn’t have, too. I’m sure it’s exactly like the show.

Now if you want to make a good movie, let me direct it. I’ll start them out waiting to get their fancy car and have their lavish party, and then BAM!!! There on Fear Factor. And, they only get free by eating parts of the pig they won’t put in hot dogs. What can I say? I’m tough but fair.

Nearly TwentySomething FreakOut

I’m not even twenty, and every day feels like a mid-life crisis.

I think I peaked early. I can reminisce about the good ol’ days, back when I owned the shit outta the spelling bee and kicked ass and took names in algebra; when I was reading at an eleventh grade level in fifth grade and the teachers just didn’t “know what to do with me”. I was bright. I had potential. Hell, yeah, I’ll say it: I was a goddamn prodigy.

Then what? School got harder, and I didn’t get any smarter. I didn’t really need to; I graduated high school with a B average and pretty dang sweet SAT scores and got into every college I applied to. That’s the kicker. I got in everywhere I applied, so what am I doing here, unable to handle basic coursework at community college? Was I so good at bullshitting my way through high school that I fooled everyone, even myself, into thinking that I could handle higher education, when really I’m about as ready for college as Paris Hilton is for a dirty orange jumpsuit and a girlfriend named Bertha? Am I just afraid of failure? Am I just plain lazy?

The answer to all of the above is yes. The scary part is, I don’t know what to do about it. And the down-right terrifying part is, I don’t think I really want to do anything about it.

Finding meaning

Part of the FreakOut for me is the realization that I lack faith. Faith in myself, faith in humanity, faith in the world. NewsWeek had an article a month or so ago about how our generation was raised in spirituality rather than within a traditional denomination. Sometimes I love this, sometimes I lament it. Why? Because with all the uncertainty, I just wish I could turn to some book, some prayer, some thing to restore my faith, give me hope, erase all of the pessimism. Where is it? Where can I look? Where do I go?

Finding meaning in nearly everything seems to be what's just happened to me. It's not what I wanted, not what I would have asked for but it seems like every book I read, fiction or nonfiction, has all these little nuggets of meaning for me. Quotes, ideas, subtle intimations at something more. Is this my faith? Are books the source of my spirituality?

Maybe I should become a librarian.

Stop me if you've heard this one before...

I was born poststructuralist, understanding that context is everything, meaning is relative, and value judgments are set in marshmallow.

This perspective has always been a trade-off. There's a lot of worrying and overthinking and an infinite regress of doubt, to the point that some days only an offseason swim in the ocean can snap me out of my head (making summertime and Middle America all the more worrisome); but always after a while the tenuously poised considerations wind down into an easy acceptance of everything and a general okayness with any possible outcome or conclusion. Relativism sets up the joke, and it always pulls through with a punchline.

About a year ago I graduated from college, and rather than go straight to grad school for my masters and phd (my long-term goal is to be a college professor), I decided I'd do well to take a year or two off and get some life experience. Being a privileged kid and not having had to work during high school and college, I developed a taste for socializing, sofa-lounging, and free time. I didn't really want a job, unless it was one I loved, or at least with an organization I loved. So I made a half-assed attempt to find an entry-level position in the nonprofit sector, and an even more half-assed (quarter-assed?) attempt to find an entry-level position in any office-work type organization. Completely unsuccessful in finding a "real job," I've been working two restaurant jobs and soaking my feet in the very spare meantime. After almost a year of this, I would KILL for a job. I would love a job! I'd be happy to have one!!! I would take any normal type job I could get -- administrative assistant, assistant to the executive assistant -- anything that would cover my superlow monthly expenses, plus like two hundred bucks left over each month. That would be lovely. That would be ideal. I would thank them and heart them for ever and ever. I would bake cookies and bring them in to the office. I would make them without nuts so that everyone could have them. I would go to the supermarket specifically for colored cellophane to wrap them in! I would love it, I would love it, I would love it.

Over this last year, life has beaten me down so persistently, that my standards are so low it's sad, and worrisome, and hysterical. It's a riot, it is. Because I still go through my day giddy, at the thought of a connection I forgot I had, at the thought of the jobs I could possibly have, imagining what my workspace will look like, and the smooth feel of the buttons on their multi-line phone system. My multi-line phone system. :) Yesss.

Taking a step back, I can see that something has probably been lost, or disregarded, and it speaks of ideals and of principles and of potential. It asks me how much of a difference I am making in the world I've aimed for years to improve and make sweet, philanthropic love to. And I come back to the conclusion I always circle round to: that if I'm ever to feel "good enough," I'm gonna have to lower my standards, and up the ante. And getting an office job would be a challenge. And enjoying it would be a godsend. So yes. To all this - to the routine, to the computer screen, to the button-down shirts and sexy pencil skirts I'll wear as I transfer a call and cherish the smooth ergonomic valley of the plastic buttons, I say Yes.

Water Up Your Patoot.

Okay, this is a little off-topic. But, in linking to the salon.com article in the entry below this, I found a weird-ass series of advertisements for something called the Washlet, which is apparently a cross between HAL-9000, a bidet, and a seat-warmer. I deem it relevant because there's a lot of smiling, fresh-faced 20somethings on the washlet website talking about efficient and pleasurable ways to clean their posteriors with this amazing machine.

I am duly freaked out and intrigued.

Click here to be astounded and amused.

Forgive this interlude; carry on.