Week 14

Boy, racists sure do hate being called racist. And that's exactly why I keep saying it.

     

     Now I had originally planned on talking about how I absolutely loath putting myself out there. And I know that I've already written about that before, but it felt necessary since it's been on my mind all week. But now, in the wake of some enlightening turn of events, I feel it's more relevant to actually explain why I loath putting myself out there. And it's very simple, really. I really really hate people.

     I honestly do. And I'm not sorry about it. People are the worst type of creatures. We excel at destruction. We will be responsible for the death of this planet and ALL of it's inhabitants. I'm honestly not sure why God hasn't already resent the floodwaters so that he can end this experiment known as humanity and start over with something a little more decent. It boggles my mind.

  

  Now, I can already hear some of you grumbling right now. You're saying to yourself, "He's just really bitter about something or someone who pissed him off." And you're damn right I'm bitter. Spend any extended amount of time with people and you'll find plenty of reason to be bitter. And yet, in order to succeed in my industry, and in life for that matter, I have to be open and willing to place myself out there (read: drop to my knees, lower my head, and expose the back of my neck) to be judged by those who don't know me and have their own agenda. And I'm the weird one for not wanting to do that? Seriously?!

  

  Look I know I have no choice in the matter, and that if I hope to make it anywhere, I'll have to at least pretend to be a people person.  And I'm not at all happy about it.

P.S. (DISCLAIMER: the following section is directed at the individuals involved in those recent turn of events I spoke about earlier. And though they have already drawn the line in the sand, I want to make it bigger. So to ANYONE who knows these individuals, and you stand with them, know that you are now and forever dead to me. Unfriend me, unfollow me, block me. Do whatever it is you have to do to make sure our lives no longer intersect. I should probably be remorseful at the thought of possibly losing some of you, but to be honest, any person who supports them is is not a person I want or need in my life.)

KB: I never liked you. I always thought you were a stuck up bitch, and after getting to know you further, I realized you were a small minded racist. I am not happy for your recent engagement. I will never be happy for you. The only happiness I get in reference to you, is that you will never be a part of my life again. 

MK: I would say I'm surprised, but I'm really not. Much like your friend, you were always one to peer down your nose at everyone else. You prided yourself on being "smarter" than everyone else around you. But that was fine, but you were genuinely a good friend to me. And I guess I was to you too. Why else would choose to tell me about your pregnancy when no one else, not even your two best friends, knew? And although you being impregnated by a teenager that you swore you were in love with after only 3 weeks proved that you were in fact NOT smarter than those around you, I never judged you. Never wagged a finger nor turned a nose. Instead I kept your secret and gave you as much support as I could. And so now, over a year later, as you stand by your friend who tells me that my skin color is wrong, how do I feel about the whole thing? Meh. 

SS: You know, I'm not even mad. Just disappointed. You would think that after all the time we spent together last year, that you would have the guts to actually come and talk to me about things such as this. That after 3-4 months of dancing around each other, 4 months together, and another year of being close, talking things out would be easier than just throwing our friendship away. But I guess not. I guess the truth is that you were always spineless. You never wanted to see the world for what it really is. And even though you used to always harp how much you hated KB's and MK's silent judgement of you, you chose to keep your head in the sand and stick with what you know. And for that, I am sorry. Sorry I ever spent any of my time with you. Sorry that I wasted so much time investing in our friendship.  I don't regret much from my past, but given the opportunity to go back, I'd have chosen to spend my time with someone better. Someone worth the hassle. Someone who wouldn't decide that my friendship isn't good enough because your friend doesn't like the color of my skin or that I call her the racist that she is. But I guess that's life. And I hope you have a good one. And I hope to never see you in mine again.

Week 13

Well, that was anti-climatic.

     You know what happened to me this week? Go ahead, take a guess. I'll wait.

<Sips tea>

     Anyone? Ok, fine I'll just come right out and say it. Nothing. Nothing at all happened to me this week. Each day I woke up, got dressed, went to work, worked, then came home. That's it. Ok, sure there were a few other things. I bought the Captain America: the Winter Soldier, I tried a new wine or 2, I rewatched the first season of Arrow on Netflix, I cooked, I cleaned, I contemplated love, and even jammed out to Bohemian Rhapsody once or twice. But is any of that really note worthy?

Is anyone even still reading this? Pineapple banana razzmatazz! Still here? Oh, good.

     But now that I think about it, maybe all of this uneventfulness is a good thing. Because that would mean that I'm settling into life here. Everything is becoming ordinary.

     I don't know. I know very little, in fact. So who am I to say what any of this means. What is life?

Week 12

I was planning on starting this blog by posting a link to the Sam Smith song "Life Support", but then I realized that that song has more of a sexual undertone and I'm just not that into all of y'all like that. So instead, here's a picture of a segue.

See what I did there???

     SOOOOO this past week marked 2 months since I moved out here, and yet almost daily I have to remind myself that I actually LIVE in Los Angeles. I have to remember that I have my own address, and my own job, neither of which are within the city limits of St. Louis. And, though it may not always seem like it, I KNOW that that is a very good thing.
 
     I was going absolutely no where in Missouri. Well, that's not entirely true. I was slowly slipping into insanity, no doubt evidenced by my bright and cheery status updates over the last few years. You're welcome, by the way. But in all seriousness, nothing good would've come from me staying there for the rest of my life. That I know for sure. And that brings me to my main point. Life Support.

     I would never had made it here if it weren't for all of the people I had rooting for me in my corner. From family and friends, college professors, and even the kind words of strangers, every little bit of it made a HUGE difference.

     I don't think people realize the weight that they're words can carry. But take it from me, they can be some of the heaviest things on Earth.  I'll never forget how one day while working as a courtesy clerk at Dierbergs, a customer walking back to her car stopped right in front of me and told me that I had the nicest smile she had ever seen. That always stayed with me, not because of how nice the comment was, but because of how random it was. This woman didn't know me, had never seen me before, and didn't owe me anything. I was just a 16 or 17 year old kid making minimum wage gathering shopping carts in the parking lot of a grocery store. That compliment put a smile on my face for quite some time.

      The point of that little parable is to say that a few nice words can go a long way. Since I've moved out here, I've had variable outpouring of support from a various sources. A few have been so vocal that our relationships have grown significantly (and to those individuals, I love you very much).

     So to everyone who has ever supported me, and to everyone who has ever supported anyone who was attempting to change their lives for the better, from the bottom of my heart, I  thank you. You have no idea what it has meant to me.


P.S. I have done an absolutely horrible job of keeping up with pictures to add to this blog, and for that I'm sorry. But, you know, life happens and shit. So as a consolation here's a link to my newest Youtube video. And let it be known that shameless self-promotion is something that I have no problems with. Enjoy.
                                                    http://youtu.be/1MNk_zhV328

Week 11

This was originally going to be a poem, but then I realized that I actually don't have a desire to completely embarrass myself today, so here ya go.

   

 Other than working to the point of complete exhaustion, not very much happened this week. That is, except for Sunday. Sunday, everything happened.

I had never swam in the ocean before. The saltiness was almost too much to handle. But as time went by, and I got better and better at fighting the waves, I was overcome with the most unexpected feeling of complete and utter freedom. And not just freedom, but a sense of perfect balance and wholeness. As the waves toss me back and forth and the ground sinks further and further beneath my feet, I realized that this was the best I had felt in quite some time.

I never wanted to return to shore.

   

     Back on the shore were people. People who would look at me out the corner of their eye, or keep watch on me as I went about my business. People who either chose to, or were raised to believe that the color of my skin means trouble. But out there in the water, people didn't exists. There was no racism or prejudice amongst the waves.

     Back on the shore was money. Money seemingly everywhere except in my pocket. But that doesn't seem to keep anyone from asking for it. Doesn't keep anyone from demanding it each month. But out here green paper is useless and metal coins just sink.

     And back on shore I have a phone. And because I have a phone I'm able to receive messages from other people. Just last night I received a message about an earthquake in San Francisco. I had missed it by a day. And then more messages from friends who had had a few to drink.  And then this morning I received a message that he was brain dead.

 

Life is funny. Though we like to pretend, none of us have any idea how to handle it. We know even less about how to handle death. How much emotion should I show? How should I talk to his family? Should I cry? What if I can't? All of these questions await me back on shore. Is it really a wonder why I never want to come back in?