| Reading Too Much Into It |
[Feb. 23rd, 2012|09:06 pm] |
What Else I'm Reading:
- "On Writing" by Stephen King
I'm not big into King, probably because I'm not much of a horror buff. This is way different, though. This is autobiographical and educational. It's really eye-opening! He talks about getting his teaching license because he wanted something to fall back on if writing didn't work out, and I realize "oh man... that's me." Not to say that I don't have a passion for education - I do! I love it! - but that was definitely me. Still is. I feel like this semester I've learned more about writing than I ever knew and I think, maybe, I've always just been a self-taught writer. I don't know that anyone taught me anything. I'm only halfway through, but this is good stuff!
- "Shine" by Lauren Myracle
I'm not very far into this yet. I plan to read it more on my plane rides (more on that in a bit). Myracle's visiting one of my classes in March, so I figured it would behoove me to read something of her's. I'm liking what I'm reading so far, but I don't think I really have a clear picture of the plot.
Here I could talk about comics, but eh, I'm reading too much, I think.
Spring Break in California is a-happening! March 3rd I fly out to San Francisco to hang with Cody and Nikki. I'm really, really excited! They're both two of my favorite people on the planet and it's been far, far too long since we all got together. Stuff's gotten in the way of us meeting up again, but this time it's set in stone. We also get to see a bunch of people we haven't seen in awhile (or met at all!), take a road trip down to LA, and do whatever the hell else we want to do. Should be a great week!
I do dread it a bit, for certain reasons I won't fully go into. I'm pretty good at keeping things to myself. Tell me a secret, for instance, and no one will ever hear it. If it's my thoughts and opinions, though, sometimes I just let it all out. I hope I can hold my tongue, though! That would be... for the best? I guess?
I'm thinking I'm not going to work again until May. If I played my cards right I could not work until August and make it fine, but it'd probably be best to make more of a safety net - plus it'll give me something to do during the Summer. This is, of course, as long as I don't have any major car troubles or anything. It'll be tough to make the trip I've scheduled for May (though I already owe money for it so it's impossible to back out now) or go see my mom and siblings this summer, which all sucks. However, I think it's keeping me personally sane, so I'm okay with it.
Apparently my school offers a study abroad program specifically for the student teaching portion of my major. I'm thinking of doing it. I'll know someone (the really hilarious girl I mentioned a few posts ago), it's exciting and new, and I think it's probably a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. As of right now I'd say it's a 95% yes. I applied for my passport. Barring anything terribly life-altering happening, I'm going to do this.
I've been running a decent amount lately. I've been going down to Hurt Road park pretty late at night and just running for 30 minutes. I can do a little under two miles, though that probably has less to do with my speed and more with my stride. I've also been doing squats in the shower in the mornings - just a little something extra to do, exercising whenever I can motivate myself to - and parking pretty far away from class on purpose to make myself walk more. I think I need new shoes, though. Soon! Maybe before the trip?
I think I can rap pretty well when I put my mind to it. It would be a terrible career choice for me, silly really, but it's not a bad talent to have.
I've been having trouble sleeping lately for a multitude of reasons. Normal me-stuff. Anxiety about school, the trip, money, girls, life. I don't know why, really. I'm happy but... I guess I always want more. I can always be happier.
I came home tonight and picking up Shine to thumb through it again. I like to think that one day I'll come home and there won't just be a book by my bedside, but a book on the other side that belongs to someone else.
I think what I want out of a relationship is weird. It's probably just "nice guy syndrome," as so many bros would put it. I'm not interested in most girls simply for sex. Don't get me wrong! Sex is awesome! Super-awesome! I think I'm just interested in... love? Is that lame? I just like the idea of having a connection with another single person that's so strong that neither of you want a connection with anyone else. Even though Joe and Erin's relationship seems awkward sometimes, I find myself jealous. I want that. Why don't I have that?
I'm getting really tired and this has gone from book-post to me pining over a girl whining about girls again, so maybe I'll finally get to sleep early tonight... on the day where I can sleep in. Of course. |
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| The Hungry Games |
[Feb. 23rd, 2012|08:33 pm] |
Spoilers lie herein, of course.
Okay, so I recently read the entire book series that apparently has been all the rage for a few years but I skipped over it for whatever reason. I just finished the third book in the series last week and I guess I wanted to share my thoughts on the books.
First off, it's really good. Believe the hype! It's a lot of fun, the characters are interesting, the world is intriguing, and there's something for everyone. Do you like romance? Boom. Violence? Boom. Dystopian futures and rebellions against Big Brother-esque governments? Gotcha covered. While I think the second book was weaker than either the first or third, all three are fantastic. The third is probably one of the darkest YA books I've ever read.
I wish the author was more consistent, however. While perhaps this adds to the "realism" of the book, there seems to be a case of what I like to call "Chekov's Vanishing Gun." By this I mean what seems like important plot elements are introduced and then seemingly forgotten about entirely. Here's a few:
- Peeta loses one of his legs at the end of the first book and it's replaced by a prosthetic. This is mentioned maybe one or two more times, but he seems to have no trouble running and climbing and being awesome.
- Characters are introduced with little to no resolution given to them. While obviously this seems to add to the "realism" of the story, it doesn't necessarily work on a literary level. District 12's head Peacekeeper gets replaced by Romulus Thread, a genuinely evil dude who punishes Gale and seems to work directly for the books' antagonist, President Snow. However, once Katniss leaves District 12 in book two he is neither seen nor mentioned again. He just vanishes! It's assumed he died in the uprising or the bombings, but he was an obvious villain and it was never paid off.
- Other characters also vanish or seem to exist off-page. Enobaria survives the entire series yet barely appears. Jackson, a soldier who works with Katniss in assaulting the capital, dies off-page when she seemed to have more up her sleeve. Chaff is an old friend of Haymitch and Haymitch repeatedly implies that Katniss should stick with Chaff. Instead, Chaff is killed off-page and hardly appears at all.
- Finnick, one of my favorite characters, is killed rather suddenly. Again, this is more than likely to increase the "realism" aspect, but makes little sense. Finnick was certainly more physically capable than, say, Peeta, Cressida, or Pollux (who had been awake for multiple days at that point), so his inability to escape seems odd. He is also hardly mentioned or mourned afterward despite being a main character.
- Katniss is given a super robot bow of sorts. It can talk for some reason and is a robot. It's ability to talk and be a robot bow is never mentioned again afterward. WHAT.
I feel like there's more to go into, but it's just nitpicking.
I wish I knew someone I could convince to go see the movie version of this with me. I'm pretty excited to see it! I hate going to the movies alone. Still - excited!!! |
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| Be Mine |
[Feb. 14th, 2012|09:04 pm] |
This is a classic Valentine's Day phrase that I never really got. "Be My Valentine" makes sense. I get it. You want me to be your Valentine. However, just the two-word version here makes it sound all... creepy treehouse, I guess. "Be Mine" is the last words you hear before you file the restraining order. "Be Mine" is the the Valentine given by those dudes on Jerry Springer who refused to let their wives leave the house. "Be Mine" is what fucking Dracula says to you before he rips your throat out.
I don't really get "be mine," but eh. Valentine's Day is still cool. That said, as I find myself single on one again I'm feeling thoughtful.
So this girl at school uses this pretty funny self-deprecating joke. She'll do something embarrassing or silly and then blurt out "this is why I'm single." It's funny! It's a good line to draw attention away from dribbling carrots out of your mouth and if you know me you know I love some good ol' self-deprecation.
Then I think about it a bit, as I am apt to do. I don't really get why she's single. She's really smart, incredibly funny, and super-pretty. There's really no reason she should be single. Any guy would be lucky to have her. Then I think about all the other people I know who are single. Most of them are well-adjusted, capable people. There's no reason anyone should be single aside from lack of "luck," whatever that means.
So then that brings me to me. Why am I single? Well, it's not necessarily for lack of trying. Let me describe to you the last three dates I went on, in no particular order:
- Blind date. She was afraid of blind dating alone so it was made a double-blind date. Everyone was kinda awkward and it was left to me to facilitate conversation. I liked my date, but we didn't date again.
- Blind date. Turns out she was a huge racist. I've told this story a million times but if you haven't heard it, please ask me to tell it. I love telling this story. Either way, we obviously didn't click.
- Not a blind date. Also not sure if it was a date. Has anyone else had one of these or is it just me? It may not have been a date at all. It may have just been an outing with a friend. It felt like a date, though. Very confusing in retrospect.
So that's my recent dating history. Kinda 0 for 3 (.5 for 3 at best), so I'm not exactly having a good run. This is not to say I'm a bad dater, whatever that means. I have it on good authority I am a good date. I wasn't always, but I totally am now. However, I can't rely on a total external locus of control here. There must still be something with me that I can do, so then what is it?
The easy point is that I'm simply not much of a looker. This is pretty obvious and I'm trying to change that. However, it's not like people who look like I do yet have my innate personal charm don't get girls. They do! I've seen it! So while this category may eliminate a good percentage of the datable field, it doesn't eliminate everyone.
A harder point to come to terms with is that I'm simply not as brave as I used to be. Flash back three or four years ago and if I was interested in you you knew it. Why hide it? I had nothing to lose and everything to gain. Of course, one day this changed. I let someone know I was interested, they said no, but we were friends. Close friends. And I wouldn't let it go. I don't like to think this but I'm pretty sure this made me come close to outright ruining our relationship.
So suddenly instead of being bold I'm more cautious. If I like a girl and we're friends already then I'm super-wary of saying anything. Not that I'm necessarily a tough nut to crack. I'm pretty sure it's easy for a girl to tell when I'm into her. The problem is I won't ever say anything because I don't want to make things awkward or ruin the friendship or whatever bullshit excuse I come up with. I overthink it a lot. "What do I do if she says 'no?'" I'm not a quitter but, I mean, you're supposed to quit there, right? I don't want to be a telemarketer or something and fight for her to buy what I'm selling if she's simply not interested. It's cool if you're not interested - I mean, you're missing out on all the AMAZING specials I'm running right now, but still...
Perhaps it's less caution and more cowardice. I'm not sure.
Today I had planned to ask this girl out. I've known her for awhile and I was going to call her up after school say "hey, we should eat a dinner" or something. I'm not sure. I obviously have little to no game unless it's on an Xbox. Of course, I flaked out. Why wouldn't I? I can do anything I put my mind to except take that one step. People who know me know that I'm outspoken and extroverted but all of those personality traits are in addition to me being just a really shy dork.
So then what to do? Get over myself, I guess. Adopt a devil may care attitude, go balls to the wall and just ask away. Why worry about affecting my friendship with this girl? Because I do and I'm a writer and want to be a teacher so I'm obviously neurotic.
I am more than okay with admitting to my character flaws. I am a shy coward when it comes to expressing myself sometimes. That is why I'm single. One day, though, I'll get over that and then I'd place a bet on me not being single anymore.
That day wasn't today, though. |
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| Unfriend |
[Feb. 10th, 2012|01:26 pm] |
"I think I'm just tired of the whole thing," Mark said, "like it's some kind of contest as to who can post the most inane pictures of cats or two-sentence 'updates' that tell me literally nothing."
Paul walked around Mark's chair and scanned the screen, as if he were absorbing some last, cursory glance of Facebook before it vanished from the internet forever. The arrow hung dreadfully over the link that read "deactivate profile."
"This is why I never even signed up in the first place," Paul said, stretching his arms and folding them behind his head, "too much drama and stupidity. Like, who can have the most friends or whatever. I read some news story where some guy killed some other guy because he defriended him. So stupid. Like some kind of internet dick measuring contest. If I wanted to do that, I'd go to a real-life dick measuring contest."
Mark didn't respond to what seemed to be a creepy invitation from his friend. Sweat beaded on his forehead and slowly dripped down his brow. He didn't want any part of this. He didn't want to see pictures of babies or people changing their profile pictures to cartoon characters in some sort of misguided attempt to fight human trafficking or something. He no longer wanted to be tortured by the list of attractive girls who had turned him down (or, he assumed, would if he ever asked).
Mark Gosling was in his early 20s, so despite Facebook's insistence, he didn't "like" anything at all.
The fatal click seemed to reverberate throughout the converted attic bedroom. Facebook, for its part, seemed innocent in all this. It offered links for reactivation, but otherwise seemed to bid Mark no ill will. It was just social networking. There were other ways to be social and other ways to network.
"Well, I've got to be at a contest by four," Paul said, breaking the silence, "You wanna come?"
"I'm good," Mark replied, balling his fists, "I think I'd... just like to be alone for awhile. For the first time in awhile." Paul shrugged and left, gently patting his friend on the back. The air seemed to settle then. The room was still. On some molecular level time had stopped and Mark was finally alone. He had no profile. No likes or dislikes. No interests. He was a blank slate.
The doorbell rang out like shot from a cannon. Startled, Mark rolled back his computer chair and made his way downstairs. The doorbell rang again but this time the ring seemed to hang in the air. Mark ignored the hairs standing up on the back of his neck and opened the door.
"Hey... hey, Mark," said the tall, lanky figure in glasses who had been begging to be let in. He was wearing a brown leather bomber jacket and had a scraggly and unseemly goatee. His 1987 Oldsmobile station wagon was parked on the curb outside, partly in the grass. "I'm Kurt. We had Mrs. Potts together for Social Studies? Senior year?"
Kurt... what was his last name? It started with a "B," Mark thought. Maybe a "C." He didn't know Kurt very well - they'd only had the one class together.
"I know this is probably weird man, heh," Kurt continued, sticking his hands in his jacket pockets, "but, uh, I noticed you deleted your Facebook. I had, like, just uploaded a picture of me and my girlfriend, Cindy. I wanted to know if you liked it or not."
Mark didn't even remember friending Kurt on Facebook. At the very least Kurt didn't update that often. Why, then, was Kurt here now? Mark struggled to find the words to respond. "Kurt, I'm not really sure-"
"I mean, I have the picture right here," Kurt continued, "I printed it out. This is actually just the page from Facebook - I printed it from my browser. You can see the picture. Do you like it, Kurt?" The last sentence sounded aggressive, almost accusatory. Did he like it? Mark didn't even care. He didn't know Cindy and he only tangentially knew Kurt. Kurt held the printout tightly in his right hand, almost crumpling the paper in his shaking extremity. Mark nodded, never moving his eyes from Kurt's frozen, glassy stare. The door shut with an audible slam and Mark retreated to his room, away from the high-school classmate with the gross facial hair.
When Mark returned to his room, he found a his computer chair no longer empty. The girl in it was kind of pretty but she was trying too hard. Her frumpy goth clothes sagged in the chair behind her. Her arms were hairier than Mark's.
"Lisa?" Mark asked, "Lisa Franklin? Um, how the hell did you get in here?!"
"You deleted your profile," Lisa responded, not removing her eyes from Mark's computer screen, "I was going to check your interests to see if we had anything in common but now I just... I just have to check here. Why does your internet history only go back a week, Mark?"
Mark was unsure of how to react. Lisa was a co-worker from three jobs ago and he had seen her maybe one time since he quit. Lisa had asked him out but Mark had shut her down - he'd been too into Cathy Smith, the girl at the front counter with the red hair. Not like Cathy had ever returned his advances anyway.
"Mark, you have a lot of folders that are password protected. I need to know what's in there, Mark. I can't seem to figure out the password, Mark. What's the password, Mark?" Each time she said his name she seemed to spit it out. Saliva and hatred dribbled down his monitor.
"I... I have to go..." Mark stammered, walking backwards out of his room as Lisa merely returned to her invasion of privacy. Mark dashed down the stairs, searching for his cell phone. He needed to call someone. Police, his parents, someone. Of course, Judy Mooney, who he'd met at some college party a year ago, was looking through it already.
"I like this picture," she said, smiling widely and staring blankly into the phone, "and this one. I like this one, too... but not this one..." Judy continued on and on. Mark tried to wrestle the phone from her but she had an iron grip and seemed to ignore his attempts anyway. Growling in defeat, Mark ran to the kitchen. The land line was still there. Mom and dad had refused to get rid of it even though everyone had a cell.
In the kitchen, Terry Gunn, Michael Batey, Orlando Nguyen, Jessica Sampson, and Kat Jenkins turned simultaneously to stare at Mark as he entered the room. They had surrounded the phone. These five didn't even know one another so why were they here?
"We wanted to share some stuff with you, Mark," Orlando answered Mark's inner-narration, "I need a pig for my farm."
"I just finished reading 'Great Expectations,'" Kat chimed in, "Do you want to hear my review?"
Terry, Michael, and Jessica all began calling out their own needs, wants, and accomplishments. Michael wanted to play a game based on a game based on a book. Terry wanted Mark to sign a petition to get rid of that first game. Jessica had answered a question about Mark. She assured him it was a very good question.
Mark turned to leave the kitchen, but the door was blocked by Cathy Smith. Her red hair was shorter now, but it was still her. Mark stopped himself short and fell back, falling onto his hands. He looked up into Cathy's blank expression as she merely reached out her finger. Her index finger moved slowly toward Mark's chest. He was frozen - in fear? Perhaps in anticipation. Cathy's finger was a missile of pseudo-friendship pointed directly at his heart.
Mark screamed.
Cathy poked.
When Mark awoke, the house had been ransacked. Still laying on the cold tile floor of his kitchen, he saw that everything was gone. Everything. His body was still quaking when the back door opened and Paul walked in, a grin on his wide face.
"What the hell happened here, buddy?" Paul asked.
"I... I don't really know, honestly," Mark replied, gripping the marble counter top and pulling himself to his feet, "People I knew were here, man. They were... just people I'd friended on Facebook. I think... I had, like, 300 friends on Facebook. Were they all here? I don't even know how they found me! I don't get it at all."
"Well my night was a lot better," Paul said, moving closer, "I won the contest."
"...congrats?" Mark choked out, confused as to why Paul would even bring this up now.
"But to even get in, I had to accept their invitation. To their event..."
Paul stepped forward and drove his knife into Mark's gut. Mark coughed up blood and crumpled over Paul's hand. "...on Facebook," Paul finished.
Mark fell to ground clutching his wound and saw Paul's dark form standing tall over him, gripping the bloody knife. The pain was sharp and intense. He couldn't move. His vision was fading. Everything was cold.
"Wh-why?" Mark choked out, "Paul, I... I thought we... thought we were friends?"
"You weren't there to accept my friend request," Paul countered, pulling the knife high and readying it for another stab.
"So how could we be?" |
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| So Then I Spit Out The Lettuce |
[Jan. 20th, 2012|03:40 am] |
I took an inadvertent and impromptu nap this afternoon. During this nap I had a really, really weird dream. Normally my dreams have a narrative of some sort to them, but this one was just all over the place (though I guess it was maybe a very loose narrative as there are parts that reference earlier parts). It's also weird in that I don't normally have dreams about people I'm not really good friends with. Lots of acquaintances in this one.
So first I was at a grocery store. It was an unfamiliar store. It was me, two classmates (Angela and Colby), and Josh Tomar. We were former superheroes who had all been forced to retire so we went to buy groceries. I longed for my former life. Then Angela vanished.
Next I was in the lunchroom at KSU. I was sitting at a table with two other classmates (Michele and Hannah) and eating lunch. It wasn't very good. Then they got up and left and I ate lunch alone.
I was in my car driving around my mom and a friend of hers who I did not recognize. I'd told mom I was looking for a job and she said she knew someone. As we drove my mom insulted me somehow. I don't remember what she said. I told her I no longer wanted to ride with her and turned around just a few streets from where we were going.
Then I woke up in my bed at home. My sister was sleeping on the floor. I asked her what she was doing there and she replied that she had no idea. I walked into the hallway and Joe and Erin called me into their room. They asked if I wanted to play board games. I didn't really want to and they replied that neither did they, so it was cool.
The house was full of everyone from earlier in the dream. There were extra rooms and people sleeping everywhere, even in the bathtub. Other friends were there, but they were mostly extras for some reason. I remember Adam, Nikki, Cody, Amby, and Jesse all sleeping in the living room. Then Angela walked out of Brianna's bedroom. I asked her where she'd gone to back at the grocery store. She said her boyfriend had picked her up because she bought her groceries.
Then I was back in the store with the same people from the original store trip. One of them decided it was okay to try the food. They opened a plastic container full of weird bread. They ate it and it was gross. They spit it out. I figured, "hey, when in Rome!" and tried some of a salad that I had. It was gross.
So then I spit out the lettuce.
Then I woke up for real. I think. |
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| The Science Of Being Happy And Leaving Your Job |
[Jan. 7th, 2012|10:46 pm] |
Oh dear, I haven't made a blog post since September. That's... terrible! I'm sure you're so upset. I mean, the past two years I did an ENTIRE MONTH of posts in November. That's 60 posts so, I mean, most of those are probably pretty good if you like that kinda stuff.
That said, something rather important just happened after the first of the year so I'll just quickly gloss over what's happened since then: had some really awesome classes, met some pretty incredible people, had a lot of fun though sometimes I found myself very sad, and mostly just kept on being me.
So now on that major happening: Last Friday at work we received a call from a Trojan Labor in South Carolina. They wanted us to fill an order for one of their customers who was doing work in Atlanta and I happily obliged. They were supposed to send us that customer's application. The customer dragged their feet just a bit and as of last Wednesday, we had yet to received the app despite my constant attempts to get them to send it.
On Thursday morning I received a call from my boss, Carolina, that was angry and highly-accusatory. She proceeded to chew me out, just seconds after I'd woken up, and yell at me for this application not having been sent to us. I let her go on for awhile, as refused to let me actually get a word in edgewise, and eventually I hung up the phone.
I didn't want to let this lie until I went in to work, so I got dressed and, after thirty minutes of searching for my keys, drove up to speak face-to-face with Carolina. I informed her that I did not appreciate her phone call and that it was, quote, "unnecessary, unprofessional, and outright rude." I didn't appreciate being spoken to like I was a child who had just broken a vase and didn't appreciate the reasoning for the call. She didn't ask me to help her or give her information or even let me answer her when she asked "WHY DON'T WE HAVE THIS APPLICATION?," she merely called to yell at me. I then told her that "if this is to continue and I am not to receive an apology, then I don't think I can continue working here."
Her response was "quit if you want."
As I didn't receive an apology I certainly wanted to quit! So I went to my desk, printed out an email that had been sent to me that morning with the application in question, and gave it to Carolina. I told her that if she had asked me over the phone for my email password and checked it or waited until I got in we wouldn't be having this conversation. Then I shook her hand, thanked her for opportunity to work there, and quit.
Hoo-boy, I quit my job.
I shook Edgar the morning guy's hand and apologized if my abrupt resignation left him in a bad situation. I knew he was planning to take some time off in two weeks. I then called Tom, the owner of the company (and incidentally Carolina's son) to formally resign with him, but got his voicemail. So when I got home, I sent this email:
Tom,
I wanted to send you an email since I wasn't able to contact you by phone. Due to a conflict of interest between Carolina and myself, I have tendered my resignation effective immediately. I wanted to thank you for the years you've allowed me to work there and I can say that I did indeed enjoy working for you for most of them. While an unprofessional attitude may have contributed to my resignation, you have been nothing but professional to me. If my resignation places yourself or Trojan in a negative position then I truly apologize. I also apologize for not giving proper notice, however I must admit that I would not have been able to work there for two more weeks. I further apologize for anything I've left there that may be unfamiliar to others. I understand that many of the clients normally wish to speak to me when dealing with their issues and I hope my absence does not negatively effect your business relationships with them. I also understand that I was partly in charge of the aging and have left that unattended to, so I hope that Melanie and my successor can do better with that than I did. If any assistance is needed in any of these areas, I would be glad to be of service at any time.
To fully explain the situation: I received a phone call this morning from Carolina regarding a new client, Ace Avant, which I received from Laurie at a Trojan in South Carolina. I've been trying to get Ace Avant's application/bill rate for a few days. This morning, apparently, the workers who worked for Ace Avant wished to be paid but as of last night I did not have the application, despite multiple attempts to get it. Carolina's phone call was accusatory in nature and highly antagonistic. I was not asked for help, I was not asked for assistance - this was a phone call made specifically to yell at me off the clock. I then hung up the phone and immediately drove to Trojan to discuss this with Carolina. I explained that I believed the phone call was unprofessional and rude and that if I was not to receive an apology or if actions like that were to continue it would be best if I did not continue my employment there. No apology was given (instead I was met with more accusations). I then went to my email, printed out the information that was readily available for Ace Avant, as they had sent it to me this morning, and gave it to Carolina. I then shook her hand, apologized to Edgar for whatever effect my resignation might have on him, turned in my key, and left.
While I understand that Carolina is your mother, I fully believe in separating professional and personal feelings. Carolina is a lovely woman and I enjoyed working for her, but she can be hard to deal with sometimes and in this instance was blatantly and unapologetically rude and offensive. This was professionally and personally insulting. I would have been glad to help if the initial call had been a request for help, but it was instead what I can only consider a tirade. You've got great business sense, Tom, and I can only imagine you can understand my feelings here.
I hope this email finds you well and if you'd like to discuss this issue further via phone I'm always available. Additionally, if you ever know of any openings that may suit me or if there is an opening in the Kennesaw office, I'd love to help you out! I'd like to think my resignation would not prohibit working with you in the future. Thank you for allowing me to work with you and help shape things within Trojan. Thanks for the years of service you provided and the years of service I was allowed to provide to you.
Take Care,
Matt Cruea
And with that... I quit my job. Sure, I did it in the middle of a pretty bad economy with no back-up job. I also did it during a time when I'm about to begin a really tough semester. I also did it when I'm two months from a week-long vacation that many jobs may not want to hire me because of. Still, I'm not broken up about it. Those who know me well know I haven't been happy working there for a long time. Carolina was too much to deal with a year and a half ago so it's a wonder I stayed this long. The job was also pretty guilt-inducing, and a conversation I had with a high-school friend during a chance meeting at the grocery store helped me a lot in considering that.
So for the first time I'm leaving a job and I'm really not the least bit upset about it. I've got to be a bit thriftier for a month or so, until my loans come in, and it'd be best to get another job as soon as I can, but otherwise I'm pretty happy about it. I feel really content. It was cool to get words of encouragement about my decision from friends and family (a lot of "good for you"s). I was afraid my mom would be disappointed, but she actually sounded really happy about it. I think I've made a good decision for my mental well-being and hopefully it doesn't have too much of an effect on my monetary well-being. I think, especially during the Fall, I've kept to myself how unhappy I've been about various things and with this job over with I think it will definitely be a huge change for the better.
Now for a little while I can just focus directly on school, which starts Monday. I'm pretty excited about it! The attending class/learning part... not the waking up and driving part. Still, I'm optimistic! About school and... everything, really! 2012 should be good!
"When people go to work, they shouldn't have to leave their hearts at home." ~ Betty Bender |
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| The End Of A Blogging Era (Well, Like, Not TODAY Exactly) |
[Sep. 16th, 2011|10:48 pm] |
I guess I've been thinking on this for awhile and I knew it was going to need to happen soon enough, but I think I'll start here, where there's much more substantial text and knowledge about me than probably anywhere else on the internet.
On February 12th, 2012 I will reach the tenth anniversary of the day I first started using this journal/blog/whatever. While I certainly do not write in it as much as I did when I first began, I feel my writing has become more substantial and... well, better, to say the least! That said, on that tenth anniversary I will be doing something I told myself I would never do.
I will be making this journal "friends only."
I like to pride myself on my transparency and how open I am with my thoughts, feelings, and life. I don't like to hide things from people, and it's not too often I have to do so. However, as I near the end of my college career, I find myself on the cusp of a new career as a public educator. If you've read the news any time in the past five years or so, you know that the rise of the internet has been used to give justification to the firing or otherwise of teachers around the nation.
While my Facebook is locked up pretty tight and I don't think you'll find too many pictures of me drunk, since I don't drink, I think it would be smarter to err on the side of caution. I will begin by making this journal friends only, which will mean that as of February 12th, a little under five months from today, you will need to actually have a LiveJournal account to view my entries here. I will no longer be able to import my entries to Facebook, so if you want to keep up with my "interesting" and "well-written" posts (all quotes from New York Times reviewers who have reviewed my blog), you will need to have an account of your own.
Slowly after this initial locking of my most open outlet, I plan to begin erasing my internet presence. Obviously to actually erase all trace of my open past is impossible, but I'll make do with what I can. The most important piece of this puzzle will be, sadly, changing my name on essentially every non-lockable service I use. This means every forum, probably Xbox Live, Steam, etc will all require a name change. It will be slightly disappointing not being able to utilize my real name anymore, but I'll have to make do as my future is a bit more important and I'd rather not lose a job because some Principal found out I called some kid an idiot on the internet in 2005.
I'm unsure if I will lock my Twitter or just change the name from "mattcruea" to something else, but I suppose there's still time to consider that. I will more than likely keep using my name on the podcasts I do (check out yninteractive.com, people!), at least for the forseeable future (especially since it's audio and isn't changeable at all!).
So I guess that's that. Not really an "announcement" or anything (because, really, who cares?), but more just something for posterity. Being able to use my real name on the internet was freeing for me: I felt it showed I could be myself and not have anything to hide like people who may post under various pseudonyms. It was just kinda cool and different. Alas, however, while I don't care if Google has my "privacy data" (yes, you know I like to search for myself, WHAT ARE YOU GOING TO DO WITH THAT?), I do care if people in power over me have my private data.
Now, to think of a new screenname for, well, everything! Probably something universal. Maybe an obscure reference?
I've been thinking of "Benjamin Nushmutt," but you probably have no idea who that is! |
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| SW: The Seven Keys To Doomsday |
[Sep. 9th, 2011|04:41 pm] |
In the distance she could see the tower forming beyond the mists. Behind her the screams still echoed as what had once been Cleveland was overtaken by an army of the flesh-eating beasts. She steeled herself, renewing her resolve, and pressed on through the harsh winds to the base of the tower.
She knocked as loudly as she could for minutes before finally the door cracked open. The tiny blond van dyke peered through the door and she immediately knew it was Hilda's caretaker, Huntsman.
"You're alone, Ms. White?" he asked, scanning the area behind her, "where's Prinze?"
"He didn't make it," she replied, "he... he died saving me."
"Then come in, come in! Let's make sure it wasn't for nothing."
White looked around the inside of Hilda Grimme's extravagant tower. The stone walls were adorned with classic works of art and mirrors every few steps. In fact, the ceilings were mirrored, as was the floor. Everywhere she turned, White's face stared right back at her. She struggled to follow Huntsman through the maze of corridors.
Finally, behind a large, wooden door they found Hilda herself, feasting voraciously on a small plate of what looked like liver and, perhaps, lungs. Hilda held up two dainty fingers and Huntsman silently left the room. The slurping and gnashing of Hilda's fierce eating rose to an epic crescendo and finally fell silent.
"Do you know why I asked you to come all this way, Ms. White?" Hilda asked. Her voice was old and broken, like she'd been through more than her fair share of this world's hardships.
"I do not, Mrs. Grimme," White responded.
"For two years our world has been under siege, and for two years you, and Mr. Prinze, and even my dear boy Mr. Huntsman have been at the forefront of what some would call a 'resistance.' Is that correct, Ms. White?"
"I would agree."
Hilda stood up, her rumpled, cloaked body emerging as a six-foot specimen of loveliness. She was fair and beautiful and her voice quickly changed with her form: it was commanding and bold, as if hope had finally come into her life.
"You, Ms. White, and you alone are the only human being on this Godforsaken Earth to have ever slain one of the beasts," Hilda boomed, walking with precision towards White, "and yet, who are you? A frail yet elegant... naive girl with no claim to power or position. I have studied you, Ms. White."
White backed against the door. Had this been a trap? Had Huntsman brought them to Hilda to merely have the old woman rant and rave and possibly attack her? Hilda Grimme had been a business magnate before the world caught on fire - she owned a candy company. Now White found herself alone in a dark room with a mad billionaire.
"At age three you were adopted from the Caselotti Orphanage in Humbert, Connecticut. You were taken in by Walt and Lucille White, and they renamed you Adriana. Do you know the name the orphanage had for you? Your original name?"
Adriana looked at Hilda with scorn. She didn't like to think about the days in the orphanage: she hardly remembered them as it was, more than likely on purpose. Still, she stood her ground and shook her head in response.
"They found you in a blizzard, Ms. White," Hilda smiled, "they called you Snow. But even then, that wasn't your original name. Do you want to know the real truth, Adriana? Or Snow? Do you want to know what makes you special enough to kill the beasts that ravage the Earth?
"The seven deadly sins of man, personified in seven dwarfish beasts. They have laid waste to countless cities. Two billion people had died at their feet. Behold."
Hilda opened a large book that had been laying next to her empty plate on her elaborate wooden table. The dusty old tome seemed ancient but well taken-care of. White slowly crept toward the book and gasped at the pictures.
"The seven beasts," Hilda said, focused on the papyrus pages, "Sneez, the bringer of wind and plague. Sleip, the dream devourer, killer of men. Dope', oppressor of the educated, harvester of knowledge. Happe, bringer of vicious irony, harrower of children. Ba'shfl, eldritch moth god, annihilator of clothing. Grrmpi, immortal anger totem, source of all war. Dok, the failing of health, death to all life on Earth.
"You have slain Sneez and Sleip, but the others live on. Why, then, are you able to destroy these ills of man? Why are you and you alone able to harm these foul beasts?"
Hilda turned the page and Adriana fell to her knees. The page was drawn clearly and distinctly, showing a young girl in front of an old wooden chest. Seven plump, clawed hands forced their way out of the chest while she watched in horror. The girl was her.
"You are Adriana White," Hilda said calmly, "you are also Snow. These beasts were released from a casket of ill omen millenia ago and only now are wreaking their havoc upon this world. They are all the negative traits that encompass man, and you... Adriana... Snow... your name, also, is Pandora. This is you."
White shook violently, perhaps in reaction to the image, or perhaps because she realized deep down all of this was true. Was she a reincarnation of Pandora or a descendant? Did it matter? Was the world's terrible fate truly her fault? Was she the world's bane?
The room was silent for a long time after Hilda's revelation. To Adriana... or Snow, or Pandora, or whoever she now was, the room seemed to freeze in time. Not a breath was taken, not a dust mote moved, and not a molecule shifted. Time stopped as if to give a moment for everything to change because, for her, it most certainly had.
"Do you know where I found this book?" Hilda finally said, almost whispering, "in a cottage on the isle of Crete. It had to have been twenty years ago, but the whole place had been abandoned save for this book and a small wooden crate. Exactly like the one in this picture, Ms. White.
"Within the crate I found something extraordinary and I've kept it hidden from everyone. From dear Bors Huntsman to my late husband, the item left inside of Pandora's Box was a mystery to all but myself. Ms. White, I believe it should belong to you."
Hilda opened a safe in her wall and pulled a small orb wrapped in layers of cloth. As it unwrapped, she could see its bright red light emitting. It made her feel warm and safe. Hilda removed the cloth: it was an apple.
"An apple, Ms. White," Hilda beamed, "apples have meant lots of things. To Adam and Eve, an apple was forbidden knowledge that gave them the world we have now. To the Hesperides, they were golden and granted immortality, eventually stolen by Heracles. To you, I believe this apple is exactly what you think you'd find at the bottom of this box. Ms. White, I believe this apple represents hope."
Hilda outstretched her hands and slowly handed the shining apple to Adriana. She took it and held it close to her breast, feeling it pulsate in tune with her rapid heartbeat.
"I believe the apple can help you in your quest to end this," Hilda smiled, "I believe that though this apple is hope, to the fell beasts this apple shall be poison. Do you know what you must now do, Ms. White?"
"Yes," White replied, "I have to kill the seven dwarfs and save the damned world."
"Then it's off to work you go, girl. Godspeed."
Adriana/Snow/Pandora White left the tower with alarming speed and Hilda Grimme merely watched her go. Huntsman entered the room behind Hilda and put his large hand on her shoulder.
"You believe in her?" Hunstman asked.
"I have to, don't I, Bors?" she replied, "it's only fair that these ravagers meet their maker. It's only fair that humanity has a chance to survive this monstrosity. It's only fair the the girl who caused all this put it back how it was. And Bors, you know as well as I do:
"Snow White is the fairest of them all." |
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| *Bursts Out Of Logo On Drum And Poses* |
[Sep. 8th, 2011|05:54 pm] |
Okay, so the last week or so has been... a bit odd, even for me. As someone pointed out to me: "I have the weirdest stuff happen to me." Like, it's ridiculous. So let me just go over some things.
First, there's my car. I failed my emissions test back in July due to a check engine light and had to get this (and my windshield wipers) fixed. I thought I was also going to have to get my passenger side seatbelt fixed, but someone did it for me so that was serendipitous. Anyway, I have to save up money/wait for student loans before I can afford to fix my car, and as such I'm driving without valid registration for about a month. The DAY before I take my car to the shop is when I finally get pulled over.
Thaaaat's MATT!
So taking the ticket in stride in the hopes that my efforts to take care of my registration will be noticed and get me out of this ticket, I take my car to the shop. I trust these mechanics as they normally charge me less than what I would get elsewhere and actually get the job done. I paid $466 and everything seemed fine!
Flash to this past weekend: Marc was in town for DragonCon, or as I like to refer to it "The Dragon Convention: For Dragons, By Dragons." I'd never really been and wanted to hang out with Marc so I decided to go on Saturday. This was a great plan until I realized that my mechanics had given me a great boon. Free of charge, they'd decided to turn off my turn signals! Sure, the hazard lights still worked, but not the turn signals! Now I was more of an unsafe driver than ever!
Thaaaat's MATT!
Okay, so then I decided to go home and, on Sunday, I throw caution to the wind and decide to hand signal my way downtown. I hang out with Marc all day, had lots of fun, and go home. The night proceeds apace and, since our internet was down, I headed to work to sap their internet so as to record my weekly podcast.
Oh yeah, my internet was down for a week and a half. I'LL GET TO THAT.
So I record, go home, and eventually Gubo, my larger, younger dog wants to go outside. I let him out and realize that Katie, my much older, smaller, and mostly blind and deaf dog is not in her usual spot, sleeping beside my bed. Troubled, I search through her throughout the house... then throughout the neighborhood. I search up and down my own street three times and even go down Long Drive, the adjacent street, a few times, all on foot as it is raining.
About to give up, hoping that Katie had merely fallen asleep in Joe and Erin's room, I hear a small but immediately recognizable whimper from behind me. I turn and see that my poor old dog has somehow fallen into the sewer.
Thaaaat's MATT! And his dog. But not nearly as funny.
I kinda freaked out for a bit. How she got down there I cannot say. I'm pretty sure she was inside when I left, but maybe she snuck out when I did? Perhaps someone else let Gubo and Katie out and forgot to make sure Katie was in? Either way, she was outside the door was locked which meant she couldn't push it open which means she recognized it as a wall, thought she was somewhere else, and went on her merry way, eventually following the curb into the sewer.
Now, keep in mind the sewer, which is on the corner of my cul de sac, would normally be far too small for something even as tiny as my dog to fit in. However, ten years ago or so a drunk driver HIT the sewer and broke off a respectable chunk of concrete. Multiple pleas to the city have resulted in this sewer never having been repaired and, as such, whoops there goes my dog.
Anyway, it's around 2 AM on Sunday, pitch black outside save for one old, dying streetlight, and raining steadily. All I can think of is that I'm super-scared for my dog and that I know she's old and can't have much longer to live, but this is a stupid, stupid way to go out. We don't have a working flashlight so I can only see her by the light of my phone. She seems unhurt and is merely wandering around in circles, every now and then disappearing into a tunnel.
I leave to get something to pry open the manhole cover so I can get down there and get her myself. We don't own a crowbar (and why not, I might ask? You never know when you might need to bludgeon someone with a crowbar), so I attempted to use anything at hand to try and pry it open: a four-way tire iron, a lugwrench - nothing worked. They'd fixed the manhole cover at one point. They'd fixed it so well it couldn't come off. I sat on my knees, defeated by city planning, as the rain and darkness enveloped me, screaming in frustration and helplessness.
I called my mother and she suggested I try calling the fire department. I did as she suggested and, surprisingly, they came! While the large firetruck probably woke up half the neighborhood since they thought it would be rad to shine their brights and never turn off their truck, they were prepared to help. Well, mostly. They were there to help but it seemed like they were kind of pissed off that they had to come do this.
Either way, after bandying about for fifteen minutes while Katie refused to come out from one of the tunnels, the firemen finally saw her and descended into the sewer to get her out. This fireman was pretty pissed off, mostly because he was deathly afraid of spiders and as such had the other firemen clean all the cobwebs out of the sewer first and then he put on layers of armor which I can only assume was specifically anti-spider armor.
When the fireman grabbed her she tried to scramble away, not recognizing the touch, but when he handed her to me she calmed down immediately. I thanked them as I ran her into the house, exclaiming "I didn't know you guys even did this!"
"We didn't either," came the reply.
Either way, they helped me out of a bad situation so I'm grateful. The rest of my morning was spent washing Katie, giving her a slight haircut, washing out the bath tub, and then taking, like, three consecutive showers. All in all, a completely insane night.
I eventually had slightly less insane week: the internet got fixed this morning (though I plan to visit Charter tomorrow and complain in-person), as did my turn signals. I kinda completely murdered my class on classroom presentation with a presentation I did (that sentence ruled), and things are pretty okay. I wish the damned exterminator would call me back, but that's another entry, I guess.
Still, thaaaat's MATT. ARGH. |
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| On Marriage and Death |
[Aug. 26th, 2011|10:29 am] |
This is actually two separate entries rolled into one. I put the marriage bit first because if you combine it with my last few entries it makes me seem like a really, really morbid person. I promise you I'm a happy and high-functioning individual! Mostly!
On Marriage
I recently participated in a large class discussion about the idea of marriage and I found it very thought provoking. Essentially, we discussed a hypothetical world wherein marriage had neither religious nor socio-economic connotations attached to it, and whether or not that would render marriage, effectively, pointless.
So then what is "marriage?" It's lots of things to lots of people. It's a written contract symbolizing love, or maybe it's a spiritual contract? It's proof that God approves of your union. It's a way to finally quiet your mother. It's a useful tax break. It's an assurance that if you break up, your quality of life won't change (well, one party's life, anyway). It's an assurance that the children will be okay.
Of course, this wasn't always what marriage was. It used to be lots of other things. The financial joining of two wealthy families for the purposes of ensuring their wealth and domination over the poor was held strong. The loss of a woman's social, fiscal, and legal individuality. A symbol of male domination in the world of relationships.
While it's changed over time, marriage as we know it today evolved from a lot of really, really negative stuff. I will address this in a moment, but keep in mind that I in know way am dismissing marriage, just looking at it objectively. So then let's look at modern marriage and take away religious and socio-economic connotations. What do we have left?
Well, subtract the written contract because there's no point without the tax breaks. Obviously you subtract the tax breaks. It probably wouldn't be as big of a deal to your mother if it wasn't a big deal in the first place. Without religion involved, God has no say in your love and, though a spiritual contract does not necessarily denote religion, there's no need for the church-fueled pomp and circumstance of it all. Without the legal influence, you're also left without pre-nup agreements, child support post-divorce, and alimony.
You're left with what is essentially a ceremony declaring your love to one another. This is a very beautiful and also unrealistic idea. What use is a ceremony declaring your love when the relationship you have should be enough to do it for you? What use is a being in a "marriage" when being in a "relationship" will do? Why would you, for want of a better term, level up? In fact, when people who are married refer to their relationships, they don't say "I'm in a marriage." They say "relationship" or "partnership" or something of that nature.
As such, I posit that without the religious and socio-economic connotations, which can definitely be viewed as negative factors from a certain standpoint, you're left with what is essentially a promise to be monogamous. So then by that train of thought the ceremony and title of marriage becomes essentially meaningless, as such a promise can (and should) be done by anyone in any non-married relationship.
Now, again, don't take this as me dismissing marriage. I actually greatly fear that I'll never get married and would like to do so very much. I don't really like the idea of dating random people because if there's a huge chance you're not going to spend a really long time with them then what's the point. The whole idea means a lot to me, but I like it because of the promise for monogamy and the ideal that is marriage, not the religious and soci-economic connotations. How do I divorce (pardon that pun) the two and still find marriage to be an exciting and useful prospect?
Obviously the answer is that all of my positing above was done in a vacuum, in some hypothetical world where marriage NEVER had all the associated baggage. In the world we live in, even if it were to be freed of religious and socio-economic convention, marriage would still have meaning simply because it's an institution. It has meaning because we were raised to think marriage has meaning, and as such it really does mean a lot to a lot of people, myself included, outside of all the baggage.
To conclude, I think that the baggage that comes with marriage is mostly negative. The government and legal aspects are either unfair or byproducts of prior patriarchal legal systems. The religious aspects are often exclusionary and not as universal as something relating to love really should be. Marriage, however, is what it is and it's a great thing.
So invite me to your wedding, reader, because then maybe I'll com back and edit this once I know what the hell I'm talking about!
On Death
This past Saturday a friend of mine from middle school died. He had gotten drunk and decided to ride in the back of a pick-up truck driven by another drunk person. The truck flipped over and he was killed instantly. I hadn't seen much of this guy since middle school but Adam did and we had a very interesting conversation about mortality on Wednesday night. Here's a few random thoughts I can recall from that conversation:
- It is very, very trite and cliche', but it shouldn't matter how you die, but rather how you live. You don't get to choose how you go for the most part and, while I don't necessarily believe in fate or anything, it shouldn't matter to you. Just live to be the best person you can be. That's all any of us can do.
- Still, it does matter how you die. The way this guy died was really almost all his own fault and now his parents and loved ones have to live with that knowledge. You can't choose how you die but you CAN be responsible and ensure you're not in situations where there is such a great risk of death.
- Funerals are really not super-sad affairs. I mean, they are but really it's about paying respects and then swapping stories. "In remembrance" has way more meaning than any other funeral-related term because that's the best part: remembering the person who has passed. I opted out of going to the funeral since I really hadn't seen him much since middle school and didn't want to make a weird spectacle but rather just left a message for the guy's parents, offering my condolences.
- Adam talked about how he'd not talked to a lot of the guys he used to hang out with in that circle of friends and we talked about Thomas that situation and how, despite it all, if you know someone you will always know them. Thomas, for instance, has made me angry and hurt with his actions but he'll always be my friend as long as he doesn't murder my parents or something.
Our talk was a lot deeper and more philosophical than that, but I ended up waiting too long to write this and now my memory is fuzzy. Let's all have deep philosophical chats more often, everyone! Then, when you die, I can bring that up and everyone will smile. |
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