Year 2: Week 10

It has come to my attention that I don't handle stress very well. You could say that I am easily overwhelmed. Why am I so easily overwhelmed, you ask? Well...<Straightens tie. Arranges note cards. Turns on powerpoint. Clears throat.>...I'm glad you fucking asked.

     Failure. Failure is why I get so overwhelmed so easily. Or at least, the fear of failure. Here's how it works: First, I get a new job, or a new task at my current job. Then, my natural distaste for change kicks in simultaneously as my fear of doing things for the first time. For some people, this fear that kicks in is a challenge; an opportunity to shine. For me, it's a signal to retreat into an unproductive ball of nothingness. After all, I can't fail if I don't try right? RIGHT?!

     Wrong. So fucking wrong. I can't explain why my brain is convinced that not taking action isn't failure. I KNOW for a fact that it is. So why the shutdown when faced with something new and scary? I don't know. Perhaps I'm a coward. I'm almost sure that's it. Some people will try to convince me otherwise. I should try to believe them. But it's so hard when all you want is to get a good grasp on what it is you do for a living. When all you want to do is not feeling like the weak link on the team. When all you want to do is feel like you belong. When you're so underwhelmingly overwhelmed.

Year 2: Week 8

The River's Edge....

     I've missed the sound of the water. You'd be surprised at how easy it is to forget that you're surrounded by it at all times. I see the city and think of it only as brick and mortar, forgetting that the essence of what makes this place flows just beneath our feet. Here at the edge, it's so obvious. So beautiful and peaceful. I need more of this.

     Every inch of this place is drenched in history. So many stories of some many people. She reminds me of this. She lets me know that the world is so much more than just what I see out my window. So many people have walked where we currently stand. Makes me feel small and giant all at the same time. I love her history lessons. 

     Ships pass by in the blink of an eye. Some so close that I feel like I could reach out and run my fingers along the hull. I wonder where they're going. Where they came from. Who's the man behind the wheel. Has he found what he's looking for yet. She brings me back to shore. Keeps me anchored. Looking at her reminds me that I've got everything I'll ever need, right here at the river's edge.

Year 2: Week 6

My job seems to be having trouble getting their shit together, so until they do I'm going to use my time talking about something near and dear to me.......the Friendzone.

     I'm actually quite surprised that I haven't touched on this topic before, me having so much experience with it. Or maybe I have and I just can't remember? Doesn't matter. I'm still going to talk about it now.

     First off, we need to define which friendzone I'm talking about, because there are (at least) 2. There's the one that supposed "nice guys" love to bitch about. That's the one where if a girl doesn't fuck a guy after he does something like buy her a drink, or like one of her Instagram selfies, she's a huge bitch who treats "nice guys" like shit. That IS NOT the one that I'm referring to.

     The one that I am speaking of is the real one. The one where person A likes person B. Person B also likes person A, but not in the same way that person A likes them. Person B then goes onto pretend that person B's feelings don't really exist, leaving person A to admire from afar and hope that one day their friendship will transform into something more. Did I explain that correctly? I think I did because I threw up in my mouth a little bit while writing it. 

     What should come as a surprise to NO ONE, I have spent ample time in the friendzone over the years. It always starts the same: I meet a girl. I get to know girl. I tell myself to not, under any circumstances, develop a crush on her. I don't listen to myself. I crush so hard that it becomes obvious. After about 72 years I gather up the courage to say something. I'm rejected, usually with some bullshit line like "you wouldn't want to date me anyway." She then goes on to express how she really needs us to be friends, but will understand if I decide that I can't do that (effectively laying the burden of guilt on me if I choose to end the friendship). I stay friends (naturally) and admire from afar until some magical day comes along and lifts the spell.  It's an exhausting process that many follow through like fucking clockwork. I'm tired and frustrated just thinking about it.

     Now I know what you're going to say, "Greg, if you didn't want to be in the friendzone, why did you choose to keep being her friend?" Two reasons: 1. Shut up! 2. I, like many others, am simply not wired that way. Anytime we are given the opportunity to stay close with the person we have feelings for, even if only as a friend, we will take it, because in our confused and pathetic minds, there's still hope. As stupid as it sounds, we will cling to the hope that someday our friendship will transform into something more once that person sees how great we are. We think like this every single time, even though this scenario only ever works out in romantic comedies. That crush is like an addiction, and it's damn near impossible to quit on our own. Which is why I believe it is the responsibility of the crushee to eradicate the friendzone. NOTE: I am NOT saying that anyone owes anyone sex, or a relationship based off of your dynamic as friends. But if your "friend" is crazy about you, and you just don't feel the same way, do the humane thing and end the friendship. Don't tell them you just want to stay friends, and definitely don't leave the choice in their hands. Do the right thing and set them free. Sure it may be hard on both of you at first, but I guarantee that both of you will be much happier for it in the long run. You won't be burdened with the guilt of knowing that your friend is constantly wanting more from you, and your friend will be free to get you out of their system and move on to find someone that can love and appreciate them in the way that they deserve. Boom, happy endings for all.

Year 2: Week 4

High school love.......Yup, we're going waaaaaaaay back this week.

     Do you guys remember high school love? What it felt like? How it made everything seem a little brighter (and then horrible)? Because I do. I can remember everything about high school love. Just thinking about the sheer simplicity of the whole thing makes me long for those good old days...for about 7.2 seconds. I don't know, maybe it's just me, but I kind of wish that all love had the same feeling as high school love. But then again, I've been drinking.

     I can remember my first love like it was yesterday (and most of my friends probably can too since I've talked about it at length over the last 8 years). We both were swept up in it so fast that we were saying I Love You before we had celebrated our 1 month anniversary. Days just seemed brighter when we were around each other. Songs sounded sweeter. It was like life had become a raw nerve; every feeling and experience was intensified tenfold. But as we all know, that is a double edged sword. When the breakup finally does come, it sends a shockwave through your entire life. No matter how young and naive we may have been when it happened, that heartbreak still leaves it's mark. The best way I can describe it is to think about your life in reference to September 11th, 2001. When we think of that they, we see the split in lives. We see that moment as how life was before it, and how life has been forever changed afterward. Yes, high school love is like a terrorist attack. 

     I could speak to any single one of my friends and they would tell me about how they cringe when they think back to that time. The shit that we put ourselves through in the name of what we believed to be our true love. The things that we said or did, feeling that they were just as poetic and romantic as all of those movies we watched while curled up on the couch in our parents basement. The pain we felt. The pain we caused. All of the regret. Most of them/us can look back and picture exactly how our lives would've unfolded had we stuck with our high school loves. And when we do, most of us don't like what we see. I take that to mean something. I think it means that going through all of that, being fools in love, believing that the world was ending because a relationship built off of hand holding and seeing movies ended, "reinventing" ourselves once we finally stopped crying into our pillows, we became better people (in the long run. Plenty of us were still little shits years after). All of that innocent, uncomplicated love, and devastating heartbreak molded us into the people we are today. And isn't that a great thing? Does anyone here really wish that they were the same person they were in high school? If the me of today had ever met the me of my high school years, I'd have kicked my ass, told myself to love some weight, and stop being such a little bitch. But since I don't have a TARDIS that show down will never actually happen. So the way I see it, we should all take a second to think back on this simpler times and be nothing but thankful. 

But like I said, I've been drinking....

After Thought: Under Pressure

There always seems to come this time where I'm convinced that I cannot possibly handle all of the shit that has currently been piled on top of me. Every time I've been convinced that this was it. That failure at this point would set off a cataclysmic chain of events that would lead life altering events of which there is no return. Every time I wonder how is it I ended up her, and how I could ever possibly hope to overcome. Every time I'm sure that it's over. And every time I've been wrong.

So far...

I know I should focus more on the positive, as I said I would in my last post, but that's extremely difficult to do when the pressure of life is literally making it hard to breathe. I'm trying to keep myself calm, hence me writing this instead of working on the mountain of work in front of me. I just had to take a minute and lay out my thoughts. I need to figure out how to proceed. None of my teammates seem to be stressing as much as me. Maybe they're more experienced. Maybe they're just better at internalizing it than I am. Either way, I feel like smashing my laptop, walking into the center of the room and screaming. After which I was drive away and just keep driving until my car refused to go anymore. And then what?

I don't feel like I have anything to complain about. I know that I don't. I'm living in one of the best cities in the country and working as an integral part of a team producing a television show. This is what I've suffered for. What I've ached for. What I stayed awake at night longing for. And now I'm here, and I don't know if I can handle it. Is this how everyone feels? Or am I just weak? Am I just ungrateful? Do I just not get it?

I don't know. Just a thought.

Year 2: Week 3

Positive vibes....Positive vibes......Can someone please pass me some vibes???

     One thing I've always heard is that if you put positive energy out into the universe, positive energy will be returned to you. To be honest, I've never believed it. Mostly for the fact that, speaking from personal experience, bad shit is always going to happen and the universe doesn't give a shit about your attitude. That's just a fact of life.
     But, in the spirit of growing up and keeping an open mind, I figured what harm could come from TRYING to be more positive in my life? After all, 26 years of being a realist (read: cynic pretending to be a realist) has led me to being fat and alone, so how much worse could it be? <Insert nervous laugh>

     I mean, how exactly do you change your mindset? It's not like flipping a switch, no matter how easy people try to make it seem. I know it's going to take a conscious effort each day, but that's just it. Conscious. I have to knowingly change the way I've thought for so long everyday, and I'm just not really sure how to do that. And even if I do succeed, who's to say that this will actually work? If I don't get positive energy back, do I get to say I told you so? Who do I even say it to? Do I even know what I'm talking about right now? What is life?

Year 2: Week 2

DISCLAIMER: This time around will be a lot more....dull? I'm not longer working the field so there will no doubt be fewer pictures and fewer adventure stories. But I promise to give you just as much crazy as I always have. I'm sorry, and you're welcome.

     You know, at this point, I'm not sure if it's a crippling fear of failure, or crippling fear of success that is...crippling me. Let me explain.

     Before I ever even left L.A. I was plagued with the thought that I had gotten in over my head. It's true that I don't have a contingency plan in place if all of this falls through. And even though this show is scheduled to run for the next year and a half, I'm ALREADY thinking about what next. What happens if this doesn't last? What happens if I get fired? Why am I so terrified at work everyday?

Ok ok, I know. There's a lot to unpack here. First of all, I know I have no control over the future so there's not much point in "worrying" about it. I just have to take it each day at a time. I KNOW THIS. But that doesn't make it any easier on my severely demented mind. Unfortunately, I'm just not built that way.

     As for the daily terror I internally deal with at work most days. I think it stems from a fear of failure. I hate having to do new things because I view them as opportunities for me to fail. It always seems like everyone else takes on new challenges in stride, while I just squirm in my chair and try not to look as uncomfortable as I feel. I hate it. Why has it never been easy for me? Being so afraid of failure makes me feel like a failure. It's a horribly ironic circle.

Wow this entry went south quick, huh? Sorry about that. Actually, no I'm not. I WRITE WHAT I WANT! <Rachel Shante Shante voice>

Year 2: Week 1

Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaand I'm back!!!

Well I never really left. Well I did, but not really. Ok wait. I'm already confused. Let's start this again...

     I made it to New Orleans! Believe me, there were many times where it did not seem like this was ever going to happen. I'm still not completely convinced that it did. I'm afraid I'm going to wake up on my futon in my tiny studio back in Van Nuys any second now. I better enjoy this while it last. If this is a dream, that means I can do what I want. Quick, send me Scarlett Johansson!

....Dammit. It didn't work.......I mean....Yay! It didn't work!

Quick recap. For those who don't already know, and I can't imagine that there's anyone who doesn't at this point, back in July I accepted an Associate Producer position at Bellum Entertainment for their brand new show, It Takes A Killer. The catch was that accepting the position required me to relocate to New Orleans. So here I am! 

     The move was a bitch. Made my move to LA seem like shooting fish in a barrel with a rocket launcher. 4 weeks of moving prep, 1 week of packing, 41 hour drive from LA to STL, 3 more days of packing, 12 drive from STL to NOLA, and countless trips to Walmart just to finally be able to say I'm a NOLA resident. 

And I'm fucking tired.

In case anyone was wondering, I stopped posting a couple months ago because I no longer had anything to say. There was nothing left in my head. All I could do was go through the motions everyday and hope that things would start looking up soon. Then one day during a power outage, an email came through on my phone from the website Staff Me Up. This site is notorious for sending junk mail on a weekly basis, so I almost deleted it. For whatever reason, I opened the email, and saw that a job I had applied for months earlier still hadn't been filled. I was asked if I was still interested, even though it would mean having to relocate. Needless to say, I was still interested, and after several more emails, phone calls, and a writing audition, I found myself accepting the biggest job of my life. 

     I'm still not sure any of this is real, and I'm terrified of the idea that this might all fall through. But I guess, until it does, I will just have to enjoy it while it lasts, and wait for Scarlett Johansson to arrive.

Year One

What a difference a year makes......

     You know, for the last few weeks I've been thinking about this post. Thinking about how I was going to sum up this year. How I would remanence over just how life changing this year has been. And now that I'm actually sitting here and typing.....I've got nothing.  All this time I wanted for this to be this big epic thing about how far I've come. But now all I can think about is where I'm going. 

I'm getting ahead of myself, let's start from the beginning....

     On the morning of July 4th, 2014, my dad and I loaded up my car with everything I own, and set out on the most significant road trip I'd ever take. We landed the next night, I started working 2 days later, and had my own apartment by the end of the week. It was a lot all at once, and to this day I have absolutely no idea how I did it. That first job took me until February the following year, and by the end of it all I could think about was changing careers. For the next couple of months I worked a few different jobs here and there, had some big interviews, and constantly contemplated moving back home. Thank God I didn't.

     I've learned so so much about myself over this past year. A ridiculous amount, to be honest. It has led me to question everything I ever thought I knew. And if it seems like I've left a lot out of this post, well, I have. Very recently I realized that my life is ahead of me, and what's behind me is there for a reason. And with that being said, I have an announcement to make:

I have just accepted my first writing job. I'll be serving as an Associate Producer on a documentary crime series (think Forensic Files). And this September, I will officially be moving New Orleans.

My oh my, what a difference a year makes.

Week 50/51

Monday June 15th, 2015:

• Must clean, Rachel's coming tomorrow.....Eh, I've got all day.
• Oh hey, Hannah's back in town....oh, she's on her way over. WHERE"S THE VACCUM?!
• Phew, that was close. Ok this should be fun. Wait, are we watching Game of Thrones. Oh God. Oh no. Not again....
• <uncontrollable sobbing>
• I'll set my alarm for 7am. That should give me plenty of time to beat traffic, right?

Tuesday June 16th, 2015:

• It was absolutely NOT enough time to beat traffic.
• I think that dead cat on the side of the highway is moving faster than me right now.
• SHE'S HERE! God I hope my liver is ready for this.
• GO WARRIORS!!!

Wednesday June 17th, 2015:

• Glad it's not a scorcher for our beach day.
• HOLY DICK AND BALLS THIS WATER IS COLD!!!!!
• I think maybe I'll just lay here for awhile.
• What do you mean you want me to work tomorrow?!
• You're going to pay me how much???....I can start right now if you need me to.
• Maybe just one more quick swim now that the sun is out.
• I IMMEDIATELY REGRET MY DECISION!
• She's putting shrimp in a cream sauce on top of a steak. I think this is the "Catch a Husband" recipe.
• Susan and Courtney have an interesting conversation after a few glasses (read: bottles) of wine.

Thursday June 18th, 2015:

• LET'S MAKE A DEAL!!!
• This is LITERALLY a test of stamina and sheer will power.
• Wayne Brady smells of manliness and rich mahogany.
• I seriously think I lost about 10 pounds and came very close to heat stroke during that taping.
• Now for some location scouting. Which for this company means find and lock down 3 different locations in one day with no money. Absolutely no reason to panic.

Friday June 19th, 2015:

• PANIC!
• I can now say that I know how it feels to be told to fuck off by multiple business owners.
• Huh...apparently all we had to do this whole time was give these people money. Who knew?
• Time to celebrate. 
• Hannah's even coming out with us. Oh yeah, tonight we're going HARD!
• Sure is crowded in this bar. I just need a couple drinks to get it started.
• Boy this music is loud. People are dancing so fast. The seats in the VIP section sure do look comfortable.
• Maybe we should just sit down for bit. I can't wait to get home and finish watching Orange is the New Black.
• Oh my God we're old. So old. So very fucking old.

Saturday June 20th, 2015:

• Can we just take a moment and think about last night.
• On second thought, I don't want to talk about it. 
• Rachel is cooking again. I wonder if I can live with her and her future husband so that I can eat like this everyday.
• Seriously, I'll bunk in the attic/basement. I mean do you see this shit?! Look at the picture! LOOK AT IT!!!
• Time to take Rachel's Star Wars virginity. I solemnly swear that she will know that HAN SHOT FIRST.

Sunday June 21st, 2015:

• Rachel's last day. Sad day. I'll never eat this good again.

The next week.

     I'm an AP again. I forgot how nice it is to be on the producer side of the line. Good money. No taking lunch orders for ungrateful cast and crew. No cleaning up behind everyone else. Just story. I need more of this. If I want to survive that is.

I Can't Sleep

I think I want to write a book.

That's probably just because I've been reading a lot lately. A trend that I hope keeps up, but probably won't.

Still though. I wonder what my book would be about?

I remember learning that you should write what you know. But what do I know?

I know how to struggle with writing. Maybe I could write about a writer who's struggling to write.

But what's the end goal? Why would that be interesting?

Maybe he witnesses a murder, and now he's swept up in solving the case? Sounds a bit Gillian Flynn-esque.  Plus, I don't know anything about solving murders. All the cops on TV usually do it in 44 minutes or less. I betting there's more to it than that.

So then what would I write about? How much I miss home?

I miss having seasons. Not this season. St. Louis can keep that humid shit. But the smell of fall, discolored leaves strewn about, the feel of winter on the horizon; there's nothing like that.

I think about home a lot lately. I think it's human nature to crave the familiar when faced with so much uncertainty.

Maybe I could write about home? There once was a writer in St. Louis. He wrote and wrote until he couldn't write anymore. Then, one day he looked around and realized he was still in St. Louis, and he killed himself. Not exactly a feel good ending.

Who am I kidding, I could never write a book. Books are big. Too big. I can't write a book. I can't seem to write anything anymore. I sit at this computer and I try and try to make words come out. But I've been dry for over a year now. I tell people I'm still writing, but it's a lie. I just can't seem to do it. I have an idea. I try to work it out, but eventually I find more reason to abandon it than to try to work it out. And yet I still claim to want to be a television writer. That's funny.

I can't even get a real television job, just more and more of this reality bullshit that has oversaturated the airways.

Everyone else seems to be working towards there dreams. I don't even know how to work towards mine. All of my work is taking me in the wrong direction. And it's damn near impossible to change the direction. It's not like a car that can turn and reverse on command. It's more like I'm floating through space, with no power to do anything to stop my current course. I just have keep floating and hope that something or someone comes along and bumps me in the way I need to go. But I'm low on oxygen.

Week 49

Once again.....I got nothing.......

     I ordered this food at 6:30 and scheduled the pick up for 8, so why is it 8:32 and I'm still standing at this fucking counter? What's the point of ordering it an hour and a half early if it's still going to take me 30 minutes at the restaurant? Why am I paying for this food? It's not special. It's not unique. I can buy this in any city in America. So why put up with this? Why pay the inflated price for this? Why pay the inflated price of anything here? Why am I paying an arm and a leg for a little pink room in the valley? Why am I paying 9% sales tax on all my groceries and essentials? Why do I sit in hours of traffic everyday? Why am I even trying with these girls? Why am I still working as a freelancer? Why do I feel that being drunk, alone in my apartment is better than being sober, alone in my apartment? Why am I living here?

     Leave it to our generation to create a way to streamline the shallow judgement of our peers. I hate Tinder. By downloading this app we're giving permission to any stranger with access to WiFi to pass judgment on our humanity on the basis of a profile picture. So why do we do it? Because we all want to be loved. We all want to believe that we'll be that one that someone will see and want desperately to sleep with us. This isn't really any different from our regular day to day, now there's just a specific arena for it. I still have the app. I don't know why. Well, yes I do. But I'm not happy about it. 

     The worst part about trying to go on a diet? The cravings. The random desires for things that you're not allowed to have. It sucks. Right now it's wine and chocolate. Usually it's love and stability. And on the occasion it's happiness and fulfillment. I think I've mostly given up on most of these things. Now if I can just get the food under control. Probably not, but who knows.

"Black people have no business being black and expecting anything other than persecution and harassment from citizens and police alike." - America 

Week 48

Part 2.

     Beaches. The beach. Within minutes I could be at the beach. Well you know, depending on the traffic, but you get what I mean. On any given day I can head out from my apartment and be inches away from the ocean within minutes. Perhaps that's why people so willingly pay ridiculously high rent to live here? Or maybe it's because you could leave the beach, drive for 2 hours, and be in the snow filled mountains? Or, perhaps, maybe it's because this is where the stars live, and everyone wants to be a star.

     I think the main reason that people come here in the first place is that this is where "dreams come true." At least that's been the belief for as long as anyone can remember. Young actors and actresses flock to the Hollywood hills in hopes of being discovered in whatever restaurant they're currently serving in, and moving into the 90210 area code. The same can be said for those who dream of working behind the camera as well. After all, why else would I be here? I came here to follow a dream, and leaving means giving up. And I don't want to give up. Not again.

     Truth is, I came here 11 months ago because I was unhappy and unable to do what I wanted to do in St. Louis. For years I was told that this is where I had to be, just to have a shot. So after many ups and downs, I finally made it out here. And I think it would be a shame, if I didn't stick it out as long as possible to make things work. That's why I want to stay.

Week 47

Part 1.

     Pictures. Pictures of a friend. A friend celebrating her birthday. Celebrating her birthday with more of your friends. Some times that's all it takes. One second you're sitting in your San Fernando Valley apartment, and the next you're longing your old neighborhood in North County St. Louis. Mind you, this isn't the first time I've wanted to go home since coming here, but it was the first time I was able to visualize it. Does that make sense?

     I don't really want to go back. I mean I do, but I don't. I know I could never really be happy back home. I never was before. But if I did go back, I'd have all of my family. I could have a job. Not one that I like, but how would that be any different from now? I'd have MUCH cheaper rent. And MUCH cheaper food and gas. And I'd have girls that would actually take a second to consider me before out right rejecting. But most of all, I'd have my friends. People who actually call and text me to hang out. People who actually give a shit. Going back my not be all that bad.

     I know most of this has just manifested from my fear of being alone. I mean, it's scary out here. So far I haven't done anything to make me not feel like a failure. So a big part of me wants to go home. I want to be surrounded by people who love me. I want to be somewhere where the world makes sense. I want to be somewhere where it feels like I know what I'm doing. That's why I want to go back.

Week 46

Been trying like hell to come up with a theme for this week's blog and, so far, I've got nothing. So here goes nothing...

     Friends. Friends are good. No. Friends are GREAT. Even the bad friends are great. They allow for us to truly appreciate the good friends. I saw a good friend this week, and although it had been 4-5 years since I've seen her, our friendship never skipped a beat. We ate, and drank, and talked, and laughed. And best of all, we remembered. We remembered all of the things that made us friends and celebrated them as best we could. I found myself feeling sad that our lives have taken us to opposite ends of the country, but so incredibly happy to see how far she's come. She tells me I have a good heart, and I secretly hope she's right. I missed her before I even dropped her off.

     I think one of the scariest things imaginable is the thought that we only have the ability to make something of ourselves. I have no idea how to.....do anything. No, that's not it. Not what I meant. What I mean to say is, my dreams follow a specific path, but there's no direct way to get onto that path. Everyone seems to have their ideas for what I should do, but none of it has seemed right. None of it has felt right. I think maybe I need to give up on my current dreams. Or alter them. Though altering them is pretty much giving up on them. I just don't know what to do. What I should do. Where do I go from here? What happens next? 

     Been thinking. About a lot. Things like life, and love, and moving to Chicago. Loneliness gives one lots of time to think. Too much time. All I ever seem to think is about how I need to do better. Write more. Be skinnier. Make more money. My mind is cruel, and I wish I knew how to fix it. I guess that's just one more way I need to be better.

Week 45

 As per usual, life has seen fit to be a lifey and it's left quite a few things on my mind. Seems that these days this is the only place I can attempt to clear it. So I'll give it shot.

     There's been something on my mind ever since the wedding a few weeks ago. While sitting there, watching one of my best friends glide down the aisle towards the love of her life, I realized something; I couldn't imagine doing this with anyone. Not to say that I can't see myself getting married, because I very much so see myself doing that. Let's face it, I'd make an awesome husband (tell your lady friends). But what I couldn't picture was pledging my life to anyone currently in my life. You see, over the last year I believed that I had fallen in love. Twice, as a matter of fact. But I don't think I ever really thought about what it meant to be in love with anyone. I think I do that quite a lot. I'm always so eager to find someone who likes me back that on the rare occasions when I do, I tend to do whatever I have to do in order to feel in love with them. But actually watching two people who have decided to spend the rest of their lives together made me realize that I'm not ready to do with anyone I already know. At least, not as I currently know them.

     It's been getting harder and harder not to feel like I'm wasting my life. I mean, just what exactly am I doing here? What am I moving towards? Walked into an interview the other day. The EP really wanted me for the position so I figured the interview was just a formality. I talk to the Line Producer. She's blunt, which is a nice change from what you normally get from people out here. All seems to be going well. That is until she tells me that over a months worth of shooting would be done in St. Louis, but that I wouldn't get to go along. DA FUCK?! The Associate Producer, who is from St. Louis, wouldn't get to come along because the multimillion dollar company that shoots the show doesn't want to pay for a damn plane ticket?! Though I didn't tell her,  the rest of the interview became irrelevant. So I sat and listened, waiting for the proper time to take my leave. But that's when it happened. She started to describe the job responsibilities. Some of which I already expected, but others that, to be frank, scared the shit out of me. Suddenly I was uninterested in the job because I was too afraid of all of the responsibility it was going to come with. And that was the worst feeling of all. And to top things off, the Line Producer read me like a book. She knew right away that I didn't want to be here. That I had no interest in reality television. She told I need to be focusing on doing every single thing within my power to get out. Thing is though, I have no idea what I have within my power to do.

     Anyone close to me will tell you that I often don't see the value in myself, and that this is why no girl can see the value in me. So in an attempt to enlighten, here's a list of why you should date me:

• You will always be the pretty one in the relationship.
• People may mistake me for your body guard, and thus assume you're someone famous. 
• If you're not black, your parents will feel better about themselves after initially worrying about their daughter dating a black guy, but then realizing I'm, in fact, awesome.
• If you are black, you'll feel better knowing that there has been one less black man "stolen" by a white woman.
• I own all of the Star Wars movies, so our Saturday nights are set!
• If we have kids someday, rest that our daughter will know how to handle firearms long before any of those little boys come around.
• H.U.G.S.
• Seriously, my hugs are amazing.
• I mean have you ever hugged me?!
• I'm jealous I can't hug myself!
• I watch ALL THE TELEVISION, so your love affair with Netflix is just fine with me.
• I'll never judge you for ordering fries instead of a salad. In fact I'll probably just ask you for a few fries.

   

Week 43/44

It's nice to believe in love again....

     I haven't done a weekly recap in awhile, so here you go. Last week I did nothing. A lot of nothing. Mainly because I didn't want to leave the apartment and risk spending any money, but there was also a serious lack of motivation to interact with the outside world. Perhaps I was in a mood. But, whatever the case, eventually I would have to venture outside, because I had to catch a plane and head back to the land of Imo's pizza and perfect Chinese food. And why pray tell would I be venturing back to land that I desired to leave for so long? Love.

     More specifically, a wedding. A wedding that was 7 years in the making. I can still remember meeting Lauren and Josh for the first time. And over the years I've had some of the best times of my life in their company. So when I received my invitation to the wedding, I was legitimately excited. And I was prepared to feel all the feels (which I did). But what I wasn't prepared for, was how these two declaring their love for each before God, family, and friends would force me to look at myself and reevaluate my thoughts and beliefs on love.

     I've never not believed in love. In fact, I believe in it more than most things. But lately I haven't felt that love (the romantic kind) would ever really fit into my life. There just seemed to be too many things misaligned for love to be able to fit in. Things that make it seem like it would be improbable to that I would ever fins someone. So I had put love aside. Did my best not to think about it and try to focus on other things. But then this wedding came, and it reminded me of something that I seemed to have forgotten. I want this. This day. This moment. This feeling of finding someone that you can't imagine having to live without. I want that. Seeing those two, amongst all of our old friends, with string quartet playing Beatles, Muse, and Jimi Hendrix songs, made me remember what I love about love. And I want that. I need it. Because I believe in it.

Week 42

Soooo, there was a new Star Wars teaser trailer released this week. Not sure if you guys had heard.....

     

     Immediately I was zapped back to my childhood. In the summer of 1995, I was a 6 year old who's only concerns in the world were swimming pools and Power Rangers. And then one day, everything changed. My father called me into the back, sat me down and said, "Today, I'm going to show you the Star Wars." And my life was changed in every way.

     On day one we watched A New Hope. I can still remember seeing Luke Skywalker ignite his father's lightsaber for the first time. I couldn't think of anything else during the entire movie, and I nearly jumped for joy when Obi-Wan Kenobi and Darth Vader squared off on the Death Star. This was the greatest thing I'd ever seen. I didn't want it to end, which is why it felt like Christmas when my father told me there were 2 more films.

     I don't remember anything about the next day other than sitting in my fathers room, impatiently staring up at the screen as the THX logo faded in and out. Then it began. For the next 2 hours I sat wide-eyed in anticipation for the promised climax between Luke and Vader. And then it happened. It REALLY HAPPENED! Vader uttered those now infamous words causing my heart to drop and my soul howled out in tandem with Luke. How could this be? I MUST HAVE MORE!

     I'm not sure how I survived the wait to the next day. But somehow I did, and finally, it was time for my first journey through that far, far away galaxy to come to an end. And what an end it was. Han was back. The Empire was defeated. And best of all, GREEN LIGHTSABERS! Yes, it was a fitting end for a truly magical journey. The next day my father took me to Service Merchandise (does anyone else remember that store???) where I was pleased to find that they had shelves upon shelves of Star Wars products. And I loaded up. By the time we left, I had enough ships and figures to start my own Galactic Empire. And I had my very own lightsaber.

     It wasn't until years later that I realized just how much that summer meant to me. My dad and I kept up the tradition of watching each episode for the first time together. That is, until episode 3. Maybe that's why I didn't like episode 3. Although that probably has more to do with horrible acting and even worse writing, but the sentiment remains. Being introduced to the Star Wars saga changed something deep within me. I can't imagine who or, what I'd be had I never seen them. And I don't want to.

And now, just for fun, perhaps the greatest video to ever be uploaded to Youtube:

 

Week 41

Have you ever had something that you really needed to say, but had no idea how to go about doing it? Or had a conversation that went unfinished and just wanted to find some way to complete it? Just a thought...

     I'm fat. I'll give you a moment to recover from shock. 

Yes, I said it, I'm fat. According to my doctors, I've been overweight since 6th grade. According to my elementary school classmates, I've been fat since before Power Rangers was a thing.  It's not a secret, and anyone who knows me will know that I won't let too much time pass without bringing it up; I don't like the notion of ignoring my weight when I know that it's clearly a defining feature of who I am. But ever since moving here, to the vapid and shallow capitol of the world, my weight has become something else entirely.

     My weight has always been a challenge. Growing up big leads to you seeing the world quite differently from everyone else. I have to be aware of things that normal people never even dream of. And then there's my mind. My mind has been trained to be defensive. Constantly afraid of what people are thinking, or saying under their breath. Constantly believing that any laughter I hear nearby is about me. To be honest with you, it's exhausting. And it's only become worse since arriving here. Everyone and everything here is about body image. People aren't satisfied with themselves until they're skin and bones. Everyone loves to gossip about their new diets and cleanses. Damn near everyday during lunch I have to endure a conversation amongst perfectly in shape people about how fat they feel, or how they have to cut out carbs and gluten because it's making them hideous. All the while I just sit there wondering if any of them even realize that they're indirectly shaming me. Don't get me wrong, I'm not asking or expecting anyone to be ok with being fat; I know I'm not. But it just seems that no one here is capable of thinking about anyone outside of themselves. I guess to expect anything else would be naive.

     I don't know if love at first sight really exists. I doubt it. But I do know that lust at first sight exists. Every human being blessed with sight experiences it everyday. It's the foundation for our first impressions of others; we're a lot more open and friendly to those that are appealing to the eye. That being the case, I, and many others like me, have to work a lot harder to "earn" that openness and friendliness that the more conventionally attractive people are given from the start. This has always been the case with girls. I've never had a significant other that didn't start out as a friend first. I've always had to take the time to convince any girl that I was interested in that I was actually worth while. And even then most still couldn't get over the physical aspect. Whenever friends ask me about love life, I tell them that no girl out here could be interested in a guy that looks like me, and more often than not they can't bring themselves to disagree with me. Everyone knows. And it's the same way with my work. I typically work as a Production Assistant, which involves a decent amount of manual labor and a shit ton of hustle. Employers see me and naturally assuming I can't meet the physical requirements of the job. Granted no one has ever said this to my face, but it becomes pretty obvious when every one of my new employers is so "impressed" by how good I am at my job. No matter what, the first impression of me will always be that of a lazy, sloth, because lazy sloths tend to look like me, and as we all know, minorities are all representative of each other. And I'm tired. So tired that I've started to train myself not to want certain things. Not to be attracted to certain girls. Not to expect good things.

     And before you even come at me with some bullshit about "why don't you change things up and go on a diet if you don't like being overweight?", please know that I have, in fact, done that. Many times. Once I even hired a trainer and got in the best shape I had been in since before 3rd grade. But it never seems to stick. I thought that maybe coming out here might change something. Maybe I'd see all of the pretty people and be compelled to become one of them. I've tried a few times since relocating to get my weight in order, but thus far I've had no such luck.No matter what I do, my body always seems to hit a reset button and return me to the form which you see before you. Seems to me that, if you believe in destiny, that I am meant to look like this. For what reason, I couldn't tell you. All I know is that I hate the way I look, and the way I feel. I hate the way I see myself and how the rest of the world views me. And I hate that there doesn't seem to be anything I can do about it. And for that reason I eat. And I drink. And I make myself fatter, because I can't make myself skinnier. Funny how that works, isn't it? Funny.