…not what I planned at all…

I feel I should get this, or this, for my wall. 

A few weeks ago, I stumbled on a job opportunity that looked like it would be good for me to go after.  I met the requirements, it looked like fun work so I threw caution to the wind and sent a resume.  A week after that I got called in for an interview and took today off from the placeholder job to cast my lot.  This was in no way a make or break kind of employment opportunity.  If I didn’t get it, no big.  If I did…sweet chance for adventure.  This lack of urgency was great since it was a no pressure situation, and I show up at the appointed time calm and cool.  Totally at ease, relaxed and confident.  They call my name, I saunter up to the door to the room and gracefully close the door behind me.

I greeted them with a polite, “g-g-goodm-morning..?” and then things began to go terribly wrong.

For some reason, every positive aspect of me stayed on the other side of the door.

I don’t stutter, but I passed it off as a momentary verbal-brain disconnect.  I think they asked how I was(I’m not 100% on that because I was thinking about the stuttering) and I replied, “I’m fine how are you?”  Unfortunately(and I wish this were an exaggeration), my vocal cords decided to remember the time when puberty was upon me and my voice resembled a screeching cat scraping its claws on the blackboard.  That was when time began to slow down and I could literally feel myself beginning to sweat(everywhere and all at once).  I froze, I stumbled/fumbled, I was without (witty or otherwise)repartee, and when I could find the words…well with the voice of a mid-pubescent…screature(trademark) stuck in my wind pipe, the situation was horrific.  I felt the air cringe.  The only saving throw I made was that I neither vomited, or soiled myself.  At the end I apologized for their time and took my hasty leave, which required three attempts at the door(great in physical comedy, not in real life).

It’s not that I won’t get the job(of that I am certain) that bothers me, like I stated before it was one of those great if I get it, life continues if I don’t kind of situations.  What does vex me is the fact that I locked up/froze/Hindenberged.  I don’t recall that level of terror in a long, long time.  I’m talking elementary school ago, in front of the church congregation, child humiliation/terror.  I couldn’t make eye contact with anyone on the hour and a half long(made longer) train ride home, and when by chance I did, luck had it that it was to connect with an angry fellow who was already speaking angrily to me(he’d apparently been in a custody battle and was awarded two days a month with his kids and he may have hinted, repeatedly, that he felt race played an issue) and when I looked over at him, he went off.  Thankfully, we were near his stop and my inability to offer anything more than a deer in headlights stare and slight head shaking convinced him that I was from out of town.  “You’re not even American,” he mumbled as he got off the train.

But I veer from the point…avoidance of the issue.

I got home, had a late lunch, hid under a blanket(metaphorically) for awhile and have spent the past however many hours trying to figure out what switch I tripped today/if my ego is trying to teach me a lesson/why I sabotaged myself…whatever.

All I know is that everything that happened was…

What’s In This For Me?

I stumbled on this interesting “What if…” scenario.  The full post and responses are here, but the premise is this:

Say you were offered the chance to be introduced to the great love of your life, your absolute perfect soul mate. The two of you will be perfect together– compatible personalities, the same taste in movies and books, sex so good you’ll temporarily lose the power of speech– but you’ll only be together for five years. At the end of five years, your partner will die, absolutely and inevitably– you’ll be told the time, place, and manner of their death, and nothing you do can stop it.

This person is perfect for you, but there is absolutely no way you will ever meet by chance. The only chance you have of meeting is to be introduced by the person who will also tell you the time, place, and manner of your soul mate’s death. Or, you can go on with your life as it is now, and just make the best you can of what you have.

Do you take the offer?

Hmmm…let me think…how many ways are there to say…yes.  This is one sweet slice of life experience to be offered.  Why would one refuse?  Join me in my mind(a scary place) as I expound on why I would, like, so totally do it(some reasons may be inserted or exaggerated for jokey-joke/I cannot ever be completely serious reasons):

• Meeting new people: This is a person that, unless you take the deal, you will never meet and, quite possibly their circle of friends and family some of which may also become your friends.
• Wuv, twu wuv…: Something pined/struggled/worked for in each of our lifetimes.  You get five years of it.  Quite possibly the best aspect of the deal.  Five years of being able to not only receive love, but to be able to love freely for five years.  Not only an amazing experience, it is an amazing learning experience.  There is no way that you can convince me that five years of being able to accept and be accepted, not having to worry about rejection, being free and open with your love does/would not make you a better human.  This is five years of true freedom that society/upbringing does not allow anyone to ever have.  How is that ever a bad thing?
• Time Limit: “All good things…”  Some look on this as a downer, but the philosophy of this part of the deal is key.  The desired result is the “you never know/live life like its…” which I’ve actually ranted against, yet this scenario supports my desire/hope to learn to be more present and aware of the now.  Another great learning experience to make a better person.
• Death(part one): Meet them or not, this person will die on X date of X reason.  The two of you are a perfect match according to the scenario, so why would you deny anyone their last years of perfect bliss?  To spare yourself the pain of loss?  Remember, there is nothing in the rules stating that you can’t go “Romeo & Juliet” and follow your beloved if you cannot go on.  What a great choice/experience: are you strong enough to go on/follow them into the great whatever?
• Death(part two): This concerns the, “dying from a horrible (whatever),” issue raised.  You couldn’t be there?  Somewhat understandable, if you didn’t learn the lessons of the above points.  But I look at it as a question of could you send them to the great (whatever).  Are you willing to stop/ease/end the pain and torment that your love is in.  Yes.  Yes.
• It’s a great story, “The franchise rights alone…”: Guessing that you choose to live on, what better to inspire/enlighten people than an amazing tale such as this.
• It’s a great story, part douche: Guessing that there was no learning curve, this is the greatest sympathy eff story/movie idea ever and if you’re of the mind, cash in.

So…Your thoughts/answers/reactions are…?

Self Abuse

I’ve noticed that for the last month or so I have been torturing myself by watching movies that I didn’t like.  It’s not like I search them out but if it’s on, I’ll watch it.  And I’ll sit there the whole time asking both how this got made and why for the love of everything good in the world am I watching this?  I could be doing something, anything else so why am I burning bad film into my brain?  Am I so starved for entertainment that I’ll watch anything?  I could be reading, learning something new, creating something…

Sorry, “Music and Lyrics” came on.  Where was I?

Starting That Diet Today?

Mr. Lady and The Joshman had some exciting recipes Saturday.  They both sounded pretty good.

I don’t cook so much(most of my recipes are for more than one and it’s a hassle…), not that I can’t, I just don’t as much as I probably should.  And I do have an Ace of a dessert arsenal(cookies, pastries and one heck of a cheesecake), but that’s not where this is going…

The Mental Floss website had this interest look back at some of the more…um…interesting culinary choices from the cold war era.  Get your stomach ready for these taste sensations.

It’s in the Cards

Gift Cards…

I pride myself on the fact that I give good gift.  To be honest, I couldn’t tell you if it was a learned skill or not.  My brother and some of my friends seem to have the talent, but there are others who(as wonderful as the gesture is) just seem to opt for the card.  I’m not offended by them.  I don’t have the, “you don’t know me,” meltdown or anything like that.  It’s just that they’re so evil.  Which is why I ask that I do not get them and sure enough, I do…in excess.

Do not misunderstand, I appreciate and use them and that is where the evil lies.  Allow me to explain:

1. The (good)site specific card:  Here is a daemon that torments me.  Once I have one of these, logic ceases to exist.  Now I have X amount of cash for my favourite/crack addiction locales.  Hence I will go there and spend three times as much as the amount I’ve been gifted with(which I know I shouldn’t).
2. The AMEX/Visa/MasterCard card:  Evil Incardnate(so much so that it deserves the bad pun).  Too many rules and technological problems(Satan’s attorney came up with these I’m certain).  Don’t use it here.  If you do not use it by X we will charge you Y until the balance is zero.  YOU must check the balance on your own.  Some places may not be able to process…True story:  I tried to use one and it was rejected.  I paid another way, went home and checked the card balance only to find the EXACT amount gone.  I won’t go into what ring of the inferno you have to enter to try and dispute that one(no I didn’t get the money back, and yes I thought about becoming Tlyer Durden that day).
3. The (bad)site specific card:  Okay…I guess you don’t know me(personally I’ve not had this experience but I have heard tales).
4. The forced company Secret Santa (bad)site specific card:  The forced company SS deserves its own post, but for now, let’s just say that somewhere in my clean apartment, there lurks an old gift card to See’s Candies.  A wonderful place which I(whose last remaining sweet tooth belongs to the crack laced Girl Scout Thin Mint Cookie) visit every neverday.
5. Cash/Checks=Better:  Just as impersonal?  Possibly.  Yet far superior to gift cards.  Why?  As a colleague of mine so brilliantly put it, “You can’t pay bills with a gift card.”  Especially that credit card bill that racked up with the holiday season.

Why bring this up now?  The season’s past.  True, but aside from the afore mentioned technical problems I’ve had this month, it’s never too late to help out the future of giving.  Besides, I decided to use this final week of the year to complain before my brain melts and the holidays are just so bloated and lazy.  It’s fresh on the cerebrum.

The Lost Time(Lost in Time)

In my lifetime, I was never without the phenomenon known as “Black Friday.”  For me the “Christmas Season” began the day after Thanksgiving, and I’ve accepted that (ugh)tradition.  There was however, a simpler time, when there existed a beautiful window between Halloween and Thanksgiving when there was peace.  It was a glorious two to three week period of time when there was time to enjoy the fall.  A point in the year where one could look around and enjoy life before the roller coaster of the year was taken over by the jolly fat man and began its final downward spiral of crazy.

That time no longer exists.  In truth it’s been gone for awhile, and to be honest, ever since the first of the month I’ve already been crammed to the bursting point by the retailers.

I’m not in the mood to rant against the season, or how nobody knows the true meaning , or the greedson(new word combination of greedy and reason) behind the season, or whatever.  I am just simply in the mood to mourn the loss of a magical time when the pressures of family, friends, economy, society and all the other “important” things took a couple of weeks off before demanding attention.

I miss those lazy days.

Speaking of doom…

Imagine:

You are the leader of the world, and your top advisers have informed you that in thirty days…the world will be destroyed.  Total destruction by some celestial body on a direct collision course with Earth.  Nothing that we possess can stop it ant there is no way that humanity will survive: Doomsday.

Do you keep the information secret, and let the masses go on with the mundane existence they know and the get blinked out in blissful ignorance?  Or, do you give to the people the truth, and let them truly live(knowing the possibility exists that there will be moderate to severe chaos in the bargain), and if you DO tell them, how many days of “freedom” will you allow?  And then once you’ve made that choice…what do you do?

It is a beautifully grim scenario, laced with possibilities of mankind’s best and worst actions.  I’m still pondering…what I might do.

Last night I fell in love.

Let me explain:

As I do from time to time, I agreed to assist a local college directing course.  It was an impromptu “casting” session.  A true cold read as I had no knowledge of the play from which they were drawing their scenes yet, to be honest, I do not think the young directors were immersed in the material as well.  And that’s fine with me, they’re young and learning.

The first read and scene is fine for what it is.  A volunteer cold read is what it is, and the chemestry was lukewarm due to the awkward nature of the reading.  The second scene…well that’s where it got interesting(for me anyway).

I was partnered with Z. and that was a good thing as I learned more about the scene that we were to read.  Both characters want to be with the other, and both have their issues, which is a situation I am all too familiar with.

In truth, Z. hit most of my attraction switches(not that my other partner did not, Z. just hit more), and that was a big help for the chemistry for the scene(for me, I cannot speak for Z.).  The  chocloate brown hair, the eyes to get lost in and forget why you’re here…could eat a sandwich or two, but not Skeletor by any means.  Did I mention the eyes?  Yet in reality, Z. was normal.  Which is also a good thing. 

The character however was…a bit psycho(I believe the clinical term is “Bat-shit Insane”), which for me(in reality)completes the trifecta and therefore(as far as the scene is concerned) makes the read a walk in the park.  Yeah, it was an easy “Method” read for me as I allowed myself to fall for and sabotage any hope I had with Z’s character(“art” mirrors life?  You decide.).

So we do the scene and, cold as the read was, I let myself fall.  Granted, for me I’ve been here too many times and done the exact stupid thing, but this time I just let go.  I allowed myself to long for  Z’s touch, companionship/whatever that I felt as if I would perish without it, and then I obliterated any chance I had for it.

It was beautifully wrenching(for me at least), and honestly, I care not what anyone else thought because:

For a moment that will stretch into forever, I allowed this character a life with love.  Not one that was perfect, but one with ups and downs and moments of mediocrity.  All of which were prevented by the character. 

It felt great and horrific at the same time.  In one minute and thirty seconds, I’d loved, lived and lost the best(and unknown).

Vague it up more?

I know what tomorrow is.  I’ve no desire to linger on the subject.  The government however, will.  In fact, they already have and will continue to for some time.

 I try not to get political here, but when the government makes a statement like, “We are safer, but we are not safe,” the pressure to call them out on their steaming pile of a sentence is too much.

So please, define “safer” for me.  By what standards is this measurement taking place?

“we are not safe.”  No kidding, we never have nor will we ever be safe.  Why not just tell people to double check under your bed at night.

Tell us cold hard FACTS.  Give us concrete DATA to review.  Please stop needlessly misinforming and continually attempting to keep us fearful for our lives because of your incompetence.

Hot, Hot, It’s Hot.

This is crazy.  It should not be this warm where I am.  Is this that there global warming I’ve done heard about?

I don’t mind sweating after 9 P.M., I’d just like to be doing something to justify the perspiration(sitting and blogging does not count as physical activity).

It’s just to darn hot.

Owch!

There’s a video game in Japan that is a bit too interactive for my taste.  It’s an arm wrestling simulator that increases skill and strength as you progress through the game.  Well, that sounds nice until you learn that the final level(s) are responsible for a few broken arms.  Ahhh!  I’m competitive and all but ehmnnn…the thought of fighting a machine, for fun, that’s programed to that strength/intensity…

I’m squeemish about broken bones as it is.  Nope.  I bow out to the robot on this one.

On The Road

A fun experiment:

When driving, just for a while turn off the radio/CD/whatever, roll down the window, and listen.  It’s better if you’re on surface streets for this, the freeway has a bit too much wind rush, but listen.

Can you hear it?  The frustration, the anger, the hate and the rage?  Listen.  Hear the revving of the engine, grinding gears, screeching tires, hard braking, impatient creeping at the light.  Gotta go, get out of the way, every stinking light, what going on, Arraggh!  Our cars are screaming, our more important than you personalities extended through the machine.

 Just listen.  You’ll be sad a bit, and fearful to share the streets with those angry human-auto hybrids.  But maybe, just maybe, you’ll cease to be one of them…at least for a while.

Today, I became a man.

An old man, robbed of the youthful bounce in my step.  It happened in this way:

I wakled to the mailbox to get the mail.  I opened the mailbox to retrieve the mail.  My back went out.

I am currently moving very slowly, in an extreemly limited range, and a level of  discomfort that enters the realm of pain a bit too often for my taste. 

How?  Why?  I’m too this and definetly not too that.  I’m still very much this and in no way close to that. 

 When I am better, I’ll be setting up camp in a famous Egyptian river.

And yes, the blow to my pride hurts just as bad.

…it’s a terrible feeling.

There are times you want time travel to be real.  A moment you want back because, no matter what the reason, you screwed up and catastrophy followed.  Even more frustraing is, when these glitches mess with the smoothness of things, that the hiccup that tossed the wrench in the gears was due to a well intentioned but incompletely thought out word or deed. 

One of these moments is more than enough.  I know I’ve had my share(possibly less or more than), and every time the f.up gremlin bites me I wish not only to go back and fix/change/not do it, but to never ever screw up ever again.  It’s an absurd wish.  I know neither can be fulfilled(can’t ever go back, garuanteed to err again), but when you hurt and/or disappoint someone…

Live, damn you! LIIiiivvvve!!!

The patient is flat lining, the wounds are severe yet the doctor is confident that he possesses the skill to save(or at least patch up and help to limp along).

“Hand me the all day music concert defibrillator, STAT!”

Sometimes, having your heart in the right place just isn’t enough.