The Time Capsule

Periodically, I like to read my old posts. Partly because I love to read my writing, but partly because my posts are snapshots on time, and sometimes I like to visit them. I’ve written a whole lot of stupid shit, things that will probably embarrass me in the future, but I will never erase them. I’m embarrassed by all the drunken rants about how miserable I am, but not only is it true, it’s necessary.

Sometimes, I feel like writing is an art, and as an artist, I shouldn’t care about what anyone thinks of my art. That’s usually the case, but sometimes I get super anxious sharing intimate details about who I am, and it fucks up my creative space. If you’re an employer, or one of my friends who stumble upon this, I’m respectfully asking you to fuck off. This isn’t meant for you, I don’t write for you, so keep it moving.

I’ve got a shit memory. Maybe it’s from the executive processing issues brought on by ADHD, maybe it’s because I don’t get enough Omega-3, or maybe it’s because of all the (alleged) drug and alcohol use. In any case, my brain’s all fucked up and I’m not good at remembering things, so I write them down to create tangible memories. I’m not really a social person, so this is super out of my comfort zone, but every time I talk about personal issues, I feel a little better talking about them, so if reading about my personal life bothers you; go back to Barstool.com, and go fuck yourself.

Fuck the Coronavirus

I know, I know, you’re sick of hearing this shit too. The Coronavirus is a pandemic, and it’s killing hundreds of people every day. It couldn’tve picked a worse time to occur. I just transitioned into a new job that I really liked, the only job I’ve had in over a decade that I liked going into every day, but when this fucking disease started scaring old white people with nothing better to do than watch the news all day, my place of work started going nuts with their safety protocols, to the point where I spend Tuesday in the ER with severe chemical burns. The sanitizer we switched to decided to eat away at my skin and make my arm look like someone spread guacamole on it. To make matters even worse, when I went to work to drop off my doctor’s note saying that I would be out for a week, I discovered that I would be out of work for far longer than that. Great. Now, I haven’t really had a day off in a few months due to school and work, so this should be a blessing, but I’d rather go to work and do something that I enjoy.

Look, the Coronavirus thing is going to get bad. I’m not a doctor, but all my friends who are look like they’ve been up for days, and all of them have the thousand-yard-stare that veterans usually have, so I’m guessing it’s pretty rough out there. Too many stupid people are still doing stupid people things, I saw a “Lick a Toilet-seat Challenge” on Instagram the other day, so I’m guessing that things will only get worse as long as we’re all acting like everything’s normal. I know that everyone’s going to go crazy as we isolate ourselves and watch TV and do drugs and avoid people, but I’m actually excited: I needed a reason to avoid people, and now I have a great one.  Stay safe out there, don’t go out, stop watching the news before you give yourself an anxiety attack.

What The Fuck Am I Doing?

I’m not a functional person right now. I’m trying to fix that though. I just wish I could skip all the annoying middle parts and go straight to being awesome.

I always question the things I do, how do you ever know if you’re doing what’s best for you? I wish it was easier to figure out.

My ego loves the idea of muscling through adversity, but let’s be real here, there are millions of people who would kill for the life I’ve taken for granted. Life’s hard, but I’m not sure I’m ready to deal with it by myself.

My parents are getting older, and the idea that they won’t be there every step of the way is terrifying. They’re the best people I know, and they mean the world to me. I hope we make some improvements in medicine so that my dad can live long enough to go to space, and that my mom can meet my kids, if I ever have any. I want them to enjoy the rest of their lives, they’ve done enough to be allowed to relax a bit.

I think this website will be one of those things I look back on in 10 years and groan about, like the “newspaper” I made in middle school, or the Applebees campaign I came up with last week. It’s helpful for me to write all this shit down though, so I can see it and realize how dumb most of my random thoughts are. Maybe all that embarrassing crap is important to who I am as a person now. Or maybe it’s just bullshit I should drink away. I’ve also been having these weird dreams where I die in super mundane ways, like slipping on soap in the shower, or getting hit by an asteroid. I’ve always liked the idea of having a vault of unreleased material discovered after you die, so maybe that’s why I keep having gnarly dreams about dying.

Does anyone’s life plan actually work out the same way they thought it would? Does it even make sense to plan things out, given the unpredictable nature of life? Fuck, man, I wish Google answered questions like that, instead of pointing me towards the closest Starbucks.

I Don’t Want To Be A Townie

There is this guy I always see at my local dive, literally every time I’ve been to this place, no matter the time, this man is there. I don’t want to be that guy when I get older. He can’t be a good role model, good role models don’t drink beer by the pitcher at 11 o’clock on a Tuesday.

Sometimes I get lost thinking about the lives of other people, what they do with their days, what makes them happy, which moments they look forward to, and I think about how I would fare under those same conditions. I don’t want to be in this place long enough to grow old here. I don’t want to slowly see the places I grew up change and turn into something totally unrecognizable, and I definitely don’t want to bitch about it while I day-drink at at a bar located in a residential neighborhood.

I want the place I grew up to be a nostalgic memory that I look back fondly upon, not somewhere I would give anything to escape. I hope all the hard work I’ve put in pays off, that I’m not stuck tending bar at Finnegan’s when I’m 40.

I’ve been listening to Aventdale Bowling Club a lot recently, “Old Dogs” and “Home” are hitting a little differently lately. If you haven’t heard of Aventdale Bowling Club, go check it out, you won’t regret it. “Old Dogs” is a song about all the people who didn’t leave their hometown after graduation, and how their lives have turned out, over an incredible jazz instrumental. “Old Dogs” makes me think about that old man at the bar: he was a high school kid once, he had his whole life ahead of him, and he ended up stuck where he started. That just makes me sad. “Home” is a more mature, reflective song. “Home” is that first trip home after making something of yourself, which I really want to do someday, I just have to make something of myself first.

The Ol’ College Try

I’m starting college again on Monday, and I’m fucking terrified.

I haven’t had a great track record with college; I colossally flamed out my first time, and I excelled the second time, years later. I’m batting around a .500, which isn’t great when it comes to spending thousands of dollars on education. I’m only taking two classes, but I’m still worried about them.

The first class is called Winning the Argument, and it’s an English class, so I shouldn’t have any trouble because writing is one of the things I’m not completely awful at. I’m sure that I’ll do fine in that class, but my Managerial Accounting class is going to be a nightmare. I did fine in the last accounting class I took, but that’s because I got angry that I wasn’t doing well, and stayed up late trying to figure it out because failing hurt my ego. I can’t rely on that to save me this time.

I’m 50 credits away from a Bachelor’s degree, so I’ll be in college for awhile. Remember that old Ryan Reynolds movie Van Wilder? If you haven’t, it’s about a 27-year old rich kid who is having too much fun in college to want to graduate.  I’m probably going to be 28 by the time I graduate, and that worries me. If I were an employer, I wouldn’t hire the guy who took 10 years to get a 4 year degree. Hopefully, advertising is filled with fuck-ups who took forever to finish college too, or I’m going to have to find a new profession.

I don’t want to be that weird old guy in class, that guy who butts into the lecture to jerk-off his ego and feel like he’s contributing something helpful, even though everyone else just wants him to shut up and not talk again. There’s always one in every class, so I’m hoping some other poor, awkward soul falls on that grenade for me.

Maybe it won’t be terrible. Maybe I’ll meet some new people and enjoy my college experience. Maybe I’ll find some club that interests me, or find a way to shmooze my way into an internship this summer. That’s the thing though, you never really know what’s going to happen, and that bugs the shit out of me. I don’t like being unprepared for what’s coming to me, I like knowing what’s going to happen beforehand, so I can set up a game plan and figure it out. I’ve had more college experience than most people I know, I should know what I’m in for, but I don’t.

Previously, I went to community college, and, for the most part, it was a breeze. I worked at about 60% capacity, and I got great grades. I don’t know if I can do the same at a real college. I’m worried that getting straight A’s at a community college gave me too much confidence in my abilities, and that I’m going to blow it this semester. I feel like a much poorer Billy Madison: I feel like people took it easy on me, and that I’m not really as smart as I think I am, and that everyone else sees it but me.  I’m not as much of a fuck-up as I was the last time I went to real college, so maybe I’ll be okay.

The Circles EP: 3 Stages of a Bender

I’ve written before about how much I love Mac Miller, but I don’t see enough love for the 3-song EP he released right before “Swimming” came out, and that’s a damn shame. DJBooth has an incredible article about it, but I’d like to share my own thoughts on the individual songs. I’ve had my issues with drinking and the like, and one night, after a couple of glasses of Irish whiskey, I came to the conclusion that this EP feels like a bender: one of those nights where you say “fuck it” and get lost in the sauce, and  additionally, dealing with the consequences of overindulging.

Programs

 

Off to see the wizard, lead the picture
Me and liquor, evil mixture, demons clitter
Clean the whiskers, seeking Mr. Fisherman
Back on my shit again, doin’ my own dance

This is the point in the night where you say to people “I’m fine, go away, let me have fun, I’m feeling myself.” Right before you throw up on yourself. This is the part of the night where you know you’ve gone too far, where your vision is blurry, your thoughts are scattered, you’re not thinking clearly, but you still think you’re on top of the world. This is the point where you know you’ve had enough, but that little voice in your head says “You’re fine, let’s see how far we can go.” I’ve been there too many times, and it’s never a good thing, but in that brief moment of time before you pass out, you feel happy, and that’s scary. ‘Programs” is also the only song on the EP that I could see being played at a party, it’s a trap-flavored banger that goes super hard, if you’re too fucked up to listen to the lyrics.

Buttons

 

There’s a world going crazy outside
But let’s pretend that it’s alright
We keep pretending that it’s alright

“I’m hungover and tired and I regret everything, so I’m going to ignore everyone and recover.” This is when reality comes knocking. You wake up in pain, both physically and mentally. You think about all the stupid shit you did last night, and you get worried, thinking to yourself “What the fuck did I do last night? How did I get home? Why is there a full Domino’s pizza and a stuffed tiger in my bed?” Whenever I overindulge, I just want to disappear and ignore everyone, because I’m embarrassed that I let things get out of hand. This is the kind of soft, gentle piano music that I usually put on when I’m hungover, it’s quiet, it’s peaceful, it won’t cause my head to explode in agony, and that’s just what the doctor ordered after a night of poisoning my liver.

Small Worlds

Yeah, nine times out of ten I get it wrong
That’s why I wrote this song, told myself to hold on
I can feel my fingers slippin’, in a motherfuckin’ instant I’ll be gone
Do you want it all if it’s all mediocre?

I’m glad that this is the song that made the album, it’s about the moment when you stop hating yourself and get back to business, which is an essential theme in “Swimming” There was a time in my life when I routinely drank myself stupid, like “Snooki from The Jersey Shore” stupid, and I always hated myself after, but as I’ve grown up, I’ve cut back a bit, but there are still times where I overdo it, but now I think to myself “I’ve got to pull myself together and get back to work. I’ve done some stupid shit, but I’ll learn from it and grow.” As my body recuperates, I start to look for more upbeat, cheerful music to inspire me to actually be productive, and those John Mayer guitar licks are exactly what I need to go from “slacker on the couch” to “productive member of society”

In Search of Isolation

I don’t like people. I used to, but years of customer service have ruined whatever interest I had in meeting new people, and that’s a problem.

Maybe it’s just me, but I think people are getting worse. Maybe I’m biased, but I’ve dealt with way too many assholes lately for it to be a coincidence. Either that, or I’m slowly dying inside.

Whenever the world gets to be too much for me, I like to sit in my room and listen to my records. I know that being by yourself all the time isn’t the best for your mental health, but it’s much better for me than going outside.

I don’t know if my love of isolation will come back to bite me, I’m sure that it’s definitely strained my relationship with my friends and family, and it’s not exactly great for my dating life, but it’s something I desperately need to keep functioning.

Why is that? Why do I feel out of place, floating from one place to another like an errant cloud? Is there something wrong with me, and I just can’t see it? I used to love meeting new people and experiencing new things, but now it’s just a pain in the ass, and I’d rather spin up Malibu and write articles about nothing.

This post is getting heavy, so here’s a baby giraffe.