Presto Change-O

Men can often come off as emotional black-holes. This has been the case in our culture for a long time now. Everyone knows that the guys always just want the quick hook up and that the girls always get attached, right? This notion is such bullshit that I have decided to blow the lid off of our whole cover. Here it is: Every man out there is a giant pussy. I don't care who you are or what you have been through; if you have balls, you are a pussy. The thing is, it takes a very specific set of circumstances to bring this fact to light. Guys, just to keep things in perspective; if you picture her fucking someone else and it bothers you, she's already making a baby out of you.

For most people, there is nothing wrong with that feeling. This is how a real relationship usually starts. It doesn't start on the first date or the first time a couple has sex. It doesn't start the first time you get jealous or have a stupid fight. Just because a couple has come to terms with the fact that they are not allowed to fuck other people, it doesn't mean that there is trust on either end. A real relationship starts when being vulnerable feels good. Most relationships don't reach that point due to the fact that most couples spend the majority of their time bullshitting each other and thinking of ways to cope if the other should do something fucked up. Most relationships are like a tandem magic show. Each magician flourishes and deceives the other into believing the legitimacy of each illusion. Most couples break up at a point well before the smoke and mirrors have been cleared and packed away. Others break up after someone glimpses the wire attached to the levitating assistant. Still others stay together after the show to become bored with their off-stage counterparts. Through all of this, real trust is seldom forged.

I have personally reached a point in my life at which vulnerability never fully feels good, and that fact has played a part in turning me into the callous asshole you have been coming to know over the past months. I am not the only one, though. This has happened to countless people and there are new recruits every day. These people have not been purged of emotion or vulnerability; they just keep it so guarded that most will never see it in its full manifestation. It seems that men are quicker to reach this point and become able to compartmentalize the things they want from people. This does not make us less emotionally vulnerable or complex than women; it only makes us harder to reach. Women, just know this: Once you strike a nerve, we can become blubbering pansies as quickly as you can become jealous of a hot waitress with awesome tits.

As an example to prove my angle on this whole thing I want you to envision this scenario: We have a couple (for the sake of this exercise we'll assume it's a guy/girl couple). The guy has a pretty bad cold. We men have a reputation for being total babies when we're sick, but that's not completely true. I'm about to blow up another of our trade secrets. A single sick dude will plow through the day as if he doesn't even know that he feels any different. He will go to work, then come home and play video games and eat some shitty food and then jerk off and go to sleep and then do it all again the next day. The guy with the girlfriend approaches the scenario very differently. A sick dude with a girlfriend becomes a soccer player in the last seconds of a game who gets tripped in the box and needs to draw a card for any chance of tying. With no formal training in drama or theater, a man with a cold can make his girlfriend believe that she could lose him forever to the next embellished sneezing fit. I know this because I am a man and I am no less guilty of this than anyone else. But don't get mad at us for this. While it seems like it's just a ploy for attention, what it really is is a ploy for attention and affection. The cold is the perfect excuse for a guy to stop being macho and let you stroke his head until he falls asleep on your chest like the squishy little baby he really is. Women never need to employ this tactic due to the fact that they are consistently open about their need for affection.

The fact is that some of us, male and female, have done a great job of burying these desires under layers of doubt, distrust, and overall apathy. Some of us have buried this stuff so deep that it would take an oil drill and a pumpjack to extract it. Having things tucked so snugly away can be at the same time empowering and depressing. It's nice to be able to snap your fingers and almost magically stop giving a shit about something, but sometimes such emotional solitude brings dark thoughts. It doesn't take away from one's empathy the way you might think, but it does occasionally stymie one's natural inclination for self-preservation. For this reason, I think it's of paramount importance to try to understand how your own mind works; otherwise you invariably develop self destructive behaviors and habits. I'll stop that train of thought just because I don't want this post to turn into a "How to be an Asshole" clinic.

This whole post stemmed from a conversation I had yesterday. I realized during that conversation that despite the wealth of experience and knowledge we have of how people really work, we still fall back on the old stand-up comedy versions of how men and women work. I'm not a psychologist or a human behavioral expert by any means; I'm just going on my appraisal of what I have seen in people thus far. I think that the reason we accept these simplified synopses of our emotional standings is that it is just easier than actually trying to figure ourselves and each other out.

Up and At 'Em

I've been considering my last post and I think I have an idea as to the reason why so many people seem to feel the need to get hitched and knocked up so early on in their lives. The fairy-tale perception of these things starts to wear thin with age. The idea of a wedding in the minds of a 13-year-old girl and a 33-year-old woman are very different. For starters, the one in the mind of the 33-year-old probably doesn't involve Disney characters or even a chariot; and the one in the mind of the 13-year-old most likely doesn't entertain the notion of a possible divorce years into the marriage. As people get older, their expectations from everything in life start to lose grandeur. Potential rock stars become waiters who play bar gigs; potential movie stars become telemarketers who criticize actors; potential professional athletes become retail managers who wake up each day cursing a strained meniscus from junior year; potential doctors and lawyers become big fans of House and Law and Order...

The race to find romance at some point becomes a race against apathy as well. Sometimes if you stop and pay attention you can feel yourself becoming more indifferent with the passage of time. It seems like sometimes the urgency many people feel exists because they want to find love before they stop caring to find it or stop believing in it altogether; so they date. Many spend years doing it. I'm not sure what is worse for one's "love morale"; a string of bad dating experiences or a lack of dating at all. I suppose that all depends on how bad those experiences are. As someone who doesn't "date" in the traditional sense of the word, I can't really cite personal examples of bad dating experiences. I guess I'd have even more to write about if I threw myself into the world of dating but my masochistic tendencies only go so far; and publicly making fun of a string of anonymous girls week after week would eventually get old... Right?

I don't think I'm going to do that, although I always thought it might be fun to hit one of those speed-dating gatherings just to get a chance to look desperation square in the face over and over again for five minutes at a time, but what does someone like me talk about on a speed date? I feel like each conversation would be an intervention in which I inadvertently cock-block the guy behind me by making the girl feel like he is chomping at the bit to jump into my seat and waste her time, just like I'm doing. The difference would be that I wouldn't be lying to her and he most likely would be. I feel like the only honest opening line you could use on a speed date would be; "Hello, I haven't fucked in a while and you probably haven't either. We're both running out of options; do I look like someone you could fuck?" Either that or; "I have kids and my ex is in jail. Is that okay?"

I digress. Back to the point...

On top of jading us to the wonders of romance, time also makes many of us want children. The fact that most things become less exciting as we grow older probably fuels this perceived need. For most parents, milestones in the life of an offspring become the biggest and most cherished moments in their lives. This new-found enthusiasm can serve as a boost to the psyche. Excitement is probably the most effective nullifier of depression that I have found; and what is more exciting for a parent than to see a child's first steps, hear the child's first words, or any part of the plethora of milestones in human development? I sometimes wonder if there is a certain amount of selfishness in raising a good kid... There has to be; and as I sit here pondering that topic I'm realizing that I should probably just dedicate a whole post to it at some point.

At this point in my life I am fairly certain that I don't want children, although I would love a nephew or niece. I'd be a fucking awesome uncle, and I have no problem proclaiming that to the world. The only thing that has stopped me from getting the old "snip snip" is the nagging possibility that I might eventually reach that point at which the only thing that will fulfill me is to see a little half-me climbing the ladder of human growth the way I once did (which actually implies that the little shit would spend his life underachieving and pissing away his talents), so maybe not exactly the way I have done it so far. That couples with the fact that I'm not sure the doc would take too kindly to snipping someone under the age of thirty. I feel like a vasectomy would be an emotional age accelerator. Knowing that my loads had no potential for procreation would be somehow detrimental to my self esteem, I think. I'm also not sure that the perception of a guy in his mid-twenties with a vasectomy would be a good one. So for now I guess my junk stays intact. That's right ladies, I can knock you up. ;)

I guess that a lot of this all comes down to fact that we are all trying to find something to live for. Most people are looking for fulfillment in other people, others have given up on that and turned to more reliable things - generally mood-altering in nature - while still others have given up even on that and checked-out early. Then there are the diamonds in the rough; the happily married with children. To those people I say "congratulations" and I hope that things never change in your world. To the rest of us: you woke up today. Stop bitching.

"I'M SO FUCKING EXCITED!!!"

This may be a symptom of some type of antisocial disorder, but I still find it strange that people become so overjoyed to hear that someone has gotten engaged or married. I guess it probably comes from the fact that I have come to feel that taking a relationship to "higher" levels is similar to shoveling mounds of dirt out of your own grave as you stand in it wondering how it keeps getting deeper. A couple of times recently, I have found out that people I know have gotten engaged and the excitement in the air was palpable. The girls were giddy and the guys were chummy... and my stomach was churning, which is probably another warning sign that I might be a bitter asshole. I would never say these things directly to the newly betrothed in their moments of respective glee, of course; but regardless of the level of elation around me I can only feign enthusiasm in these situations. In fact, I am sometimes genuinely confused as to whether to offer congratulations or condolences; especially in situations in which I know both the bride and the groom and the impending news of a breakup was just as likely as news of an engagement.

I think that my personal fear of marriage is a lot deeper and more profound than it should be. I once had a nightmare - a nightmare, not a dream - in which Kristen Bell was chasing me through a building with a fiery resolve to take my hand in marriage. In this nightmare she turned up around every corner in horror movie fashion as I scrambled for an escape. For the duration of the dream I ran from her the way you might run from a chainsaw-wielding grizzly bear on a flaming motorcycle with mounted machine guns; and her only weapons were a pretty smile and a twinkle in her eye that said she wanted to spend the rest of her life with me. I remember that at the end of the dream I thought I had lost her, but as I rounded a corner at the end of a hallway I found her standing and waiting for me alongside a justice of the peace. As she looked into my eyes and started reciting her vows the horror became strong enough to physically wrench me out of my slumber. I realize how ludicrous and how egotistically inflated this nightmare was, but that didn't stop me from waking up short of breath in the cliche cold sweat that comes with all night-terrors. That morning I realized I might have a bit of a problem as far as societal norms are concerned.

I think that one of the most amusing reasons that people break up is that one member of the relationship doesn't seem to care to get married to the other. It's ironic in its simplicity: love me more or I can't love you anymore. It seems to me that this type of ultimatum has more to do with personal insecurity than it does with love. This type of thing seems to come up often in relationships that are already strained in some way. Ultimatums in relationships are generally used to replace lost trust. The fact is that if you have to coerce someone into doing something, that person didn't want to do it in the first place. This goes triple for marriage, sex, chastity, strict bondage, and making someone read your blog.

Life is short (I guess), so I can understand why some people feel a certain urgency in matters of love and family-rearing. I've explained before that I don't believe life is too short so I won't repeat my reasons here, but many people live by the hourglass and make decisions based on how much time they think they have left. I think this can be both good and bad. It helps prod people into developing productive behaviors but it also helps to corral them into situations in which they feel content but not entirely fulfilled for fear of losing solid fixtures in their lives. Almost every day I hear someone say something along the lines of; "well I'm already (insert age here), I gotta (insert plan of action to attain complacency here.)" The inserted age is usually somewhere in the late twenties to early thirties, which should be the prime of your life, not the time to stop moving.

I think that if your prime came in your high-school years, you have seriously deprived yourself as an adult. In your late twenties through your early thirties, you can be as physically and mentally capable as the healthiest senior-year brat while possessing an additional decade of knowledge and life experience. Also, your physical complexion and communicative skills are (hopefully) vastly improved. This is the time to really have the best times of your life. No, you are no longer "young and stupid" in the generally accepted sense, but you are still young and you still have some stupid ideas to get out of your system. The problem here is that most people in this age bracket don't share the same lust for life. Most of them are beginning to crave nights home on the couch with a glass of red wine and an episode of Project Runway. Routine takes precedence over experience, life stagnates, and the years start to rush by at blinding speed.

I guess it just boggles my mind that people expend so much effort to get to a point at which they can stop expending effort. Those of you that have been reading this blog from the beginning might recall this phenomenon as The Great Quest for the Mediocre. There are very few people who simply allow life to happen without wondering about the direction or consequence of every step and every word. There is something to be said for considering the consequences of certain actions but the way I see it, most of us aren't going to matter much once we're gone anyway, so why agonize over every inconsequential piece of minutiae that occurs each day? People sometimes ask me what it is that I have to look forward to in my own life with this attitude. If you have no plans for a family or anything, then what do you even have to look forward to?

I don't know, I guess. I suppose I'll figure that out when I find it. I have found that it's easier to look forward to the little things. I look forward to writing another page of material, a good workout, finishing a new song, having a good sexual experience, having a drink, a good laugh, the notion that Jurassic Park IV might not suck; whatever the next moment of happiness is, I look forward to it. I suppose that seems shortsighted, but it works for me. Looking too far into the future is usually cause for unrest.

On that note, I think I just decided to have a drink. See you next time...

So You Just Die, and That's It?

I talk a lot about ego. I think that many of the beliefs that still endure in our society initially stemmed from a misunderstanding of the workings of nature and have survived due to the fact that our egos won't let us believe that we don't matter as much as we like to think we do. As human beings, we tend to assume that we are more important than everything else around us. This has been true for many thousands of years and doesn't look like it is going to change any time soon. This is partly arrogance and partly a survival method. Any species in nature places its own existence on a pedestal above everything else.This ensures that that species is able to survive and repopulate.

We, as human beings, seem to think that we are on some sort of elevated plane of existence. We look to higher powers to help us through trivial ordeals. We invent afterlives and guardian angels in order to help us cope with the fact that we won't be on this planet forever. We talk about death as if it is just a doorway to the next plane where await untold riches and untainted happiness. The thought of non-existence is far too heavy for the average ego to handle, so we need to know that there is something afterward. While we can do nothing to comprehend infinity we also accept for ourselves nothing less than eternity. It's almost pompous in its irony.

I would never tell anyone in person not to believe in something that helps him or her through the day, so I won't do it here either. My issue comes when someone asks, point blank, whether someone believes in God, Heaven, or any other power from on high and will not take a simple "no" for an answer. The motivation for asking such a question is usually one of two things; the first is that someone wants to know whether or not to attempt to raise children with you and the other is to set you up for a life-changing enlightenment. Your answer is never the end of a conversation, but the first step in a gauntlet of questions.

The first question is usually about how things began. I like to humor the inquisitor by rattling off the perfunctory, "Big Bang." This is not because I want to have a discussion about the origins of the cosmos, but because it inevitably leads back to the same arrogant question every time. "Oh yeah? Well where did the big bang come from?" Guess what. I don't know. Nobody really does, and that's okay because nobody was fucking there when it happened. We don't know exactly what color a tyrannosaurus might have been either, but you are just fine with letting your kid go on coloring the fucker green in his coloring book.

Some people will also bring up the multitude of stories of people who, on the brink of death, have seen visions of angels and dead relatives. They argue that many of these people see a very similar vision. This must mean that these stories are proof of an afterlife. These people were in the throes of death and saw things that matched closely to one another, how do you explain that? This one is a little trickier than a simple "I don't know." It has been shown that the brain can remain active after the heart stops beating and that in this time our REM functions (the activities in our brain that cause dreams) can activate and even spill over into the waking moments as a person is brought back from perceived death, creating the feeling of being in the real world and the dream at the same time until full wakefulness occurs. There are articles and even books written on this phenomenon and many are quite interesting so I won't go into any kind of detail here. (Really I just don't want to have to site sources of specific quotes.) The fact that many of these people see similar visions is simple. If everyone that reads this closes their eyes and imagines "approaching the light," chances are that we all see things that are fairly comparable.

The need to have an explaination for everything is one of the most rewarding yet taxing qualities of our species. It has caused us to dig deeply into the micro as well as the macro and discover amazing things throughout history, but it has also left room for us to fill in the blanks where we like. Giants that cause volcanic eruptions to punish impure villages and chariots that carry the sun across the sky each day are among some of our ancestors' "explanations" for the natural events around us. Why certain "explanations" have survived while others have fallen into the realm of mythology is lost on me, but someone out there surely has an explanation. It seems that most of our remaining supernatural beliefs are applied to death. Just the word "supernatural" conjures thoughts of ghosts and demons, though its definition is much more broad.

The underlying reason, in my immaterial opinion, is that even with all that we have conquered and all that we have achieved as a species we still have not found a universally accepted way to cope with our own mortality. I think that this comes back full circle to the fact that our egos won't let us believe that we will not somehow carry on to another life or another existence after this one. Our egos and our fears will not let us simply end.

Stationary Cyclists

Much of life tends to happen in cycles. There are small cycles of behavior and consequence such as having your coffee and subsequently passing a soft and healthy stool, or having a good orgasm and subsequently falling into a restful and beatific slumber. These cycles have a quick turnover and tend to happen every day or at least more than once a week. Then, there are the larger cyclical events. These are the things like relationships, stints at various places of employment, and lifestyle changes.

The first time in your life that one of these large cycles comes to an end, it can seem like the end of life itself. The first hit many of us take is the death of a grandparent or other relative. This is the first time most people are faced with mortality and the fact that nothing that is here one day is guaranteed to be there the next. The first time this realization hits you, your life changes. You become more observant and appreciative of the things around you. After a while though, the smaller cycles in your daily life work to mend the damage caused by the snapping of the larger one. Then, eventually you are in the midst of the next large cycle.

Let's assume that this next cycle is a relationship. This one is interesting because within the large cycle of a relationship, there are a number of smaller cycles that seem universal to all relationships. You can almost classify the stages of an average relationship in the same way you can classify the five stages of grieving.
         
          1.) Eagerness- In this stage, there is an intense curiosity and a need to get closer to the object of one's cupidity. Any action taken by target individual is cause for celebration and further study and/or inquiry. This is the time where nervousness is at its height due to the deliberate aloofness often projected by both involved parties. Phone numbers are generally exchanged in this stage.
          2.) Excitement- This stage is the most dangerous and deceptive and should be traversed with great awareness and objectivity. In this stage, almost every thought and action throughout the day somehow comes back to the cause of one's new-found tender itch. It is easy and almost automatic to overlook things that one does not like about the target in this stage. The target must remain perfect in the eyes of the subject for fear that the previous three to six weeks have been wasted and that the initial eagerness was unfounded. Often the subject will also assume that the undesirable qualities of the target will wane with the passage of time.
          3.) Comfort- This is where most of us start to fall into the real trap. At this point, the two subjects have learned each other's faults to a point and are not afraid to fight from time to time. At this stage the word "love" has been used but only at times when it was accompanied by a real feeling of love. Sometimes, in fervent moments, "love" can even be accompanied by curse words, as in "I fucking love you" whispered with heated breath into the ear of a partner. The word still means the world to either subject when uttered. Given all of these things, the excitement has mostly worn off and the pair has gotten to know each other quite well, eliminating any mystique or curiosity. Sexual experimentation is implemented in order to keep things interesting. The subjects in this stage will do each other's laundry and brush their teeth in the bathroom while the other uses the toilet only feet away.
          4.) Lassitude- The couple fights more often and regularly finds reasons to do things without each other. By this point, the couple usually lives together and has discussed or even proposed marriage. Nitpicking increases greatly from the comfort stage as the reality of each other's invariable presence sets in. Moving in together didn't really make things any better, but getting married surely will. If that doesn't work, the couple can always fall back on having a baby in order to patch things up. Great effort is still expended to keep things civil or even pleasant in the household, though most conversations cover only topics that affect financial standing and directional tendency of the relationship. A breakup is not discussed for fear that a breakup would mean that the previous six months to two or more years have been a waste of time, energy, and money. Sex is reserved for times of pure necessity. The word "love" is still used frequently, but its use is no longer accompanied by the same feeling. It is generally used at the conclusion of phone conversations and before departing each other's company for the day in order to keep any suspicion of loss of interest at bay. Forgetting to cap a conversation with, "love you," will likely result in an immediate, concerned callback.
          5.) Apathy- At this point, the relationship is well past its expiration date but the parties will not openly say it to each other. The fear of having wasted time in the relationship begins to take a backseat to the fear of wasting more time. The word "love" is spouted as compulsory habit and is barely heard when said. At this point, each of the members of the relationship may be experiencing Stage 1 or even stage 2 with someone outside of the relationship. Once the breakup occurs, the stages of grieving kick in at a rudimentary level as at least one subject from the couple analyzes the entire relationship in search of what went wrong and when it happened. Many times, Stage 1 with someone new will sneak up on the subject in this vulnerable state and dull the pain or even eliminate it altogether as Stage 2 approaches at a blistering pace. The previous relationship is chalked up as a learning experience as the new, superior one grows. So ends and begins the most common "large cycle" in most of our lives, The Relationship.

I think that recognizing the fact that these cycles exist is paramount to moving forward when one of them ends. It also helps to prevent falling immediately into identical situations back-to-back. Also, if you are currently deep into stage 1 or 2, you will probably think that stages 3-5 are bullshit even if they have happened to you before. Well, there are anomalies in the universe and your relationship may be one of them. I never said that some couples don't work out in the long run; this is merely my own pseudoscientific analysis of the average relationship.

This post wasn't initially going to be solely about relationships but to cover more than this in one post would probably feel more like homework than entertainment to read, so until next time; stay predictable, San Diego.

Let's Get On With It...

Well, here I am, back in the blogosphere (not going to spell check that. I still hate the word "blog" and continue to pretentiously refer to my posts as "articles.") My computer shit the bed late last year and thanks to a gracious and caring ex, here sits in front of me a functional laptop. Thank you MLN. I'm going to start by saying thank you to anyone who in the past couple of months has either approached me or messaged me with anything along the lines of, "yo, what's up with the fuckin' blog, kid?" I really do appreciate it and I'm glad that some people, however few, actually missed my weekly drivel.

As you probably gathered from the previous paragraph, my hiatus included a breakup. I won't bore you with details, so fucking relax. I only mention it because now my thoughts will truly be coming from this side of the fence again; not that any of my opinions have changed, it's just that now I can laugh at the suckers who still claw through heaps of douchebags in search a soul mate from the same field of play rather than from the box seats. Hello you single assholes, where do I get my two-month chip? Is there such a thing? Being rewarded just feels so special. <3

Thanks to my new status, I have been re-exposed to things I haven't really dealt with in a couple of years. For instance, I have been reminded on a good number of occasions how much of a turn-off a sloppily drunk girl can be. It boggles my mind how many guys are on the lookout for the most clearly fucked-sideways chick at the bar. I personally cannot keep it up for a chick that needs help figuring out which end she is supposed to pee out of, but maybe I'm just picky. I think that for most guys it comes from the lack of desire to put in any conversational effort with a prospective co-boot knocker. I once saw a friend (who will remain nameless) approach a group of six women. He proceeded to strike up what I assumed was supposed to be a conversation with his top prospect. From that distance I couldn't hear what was said, but her face told me that he had probably asked her if she would like to slurp dog shit from an ice cream cone. This was then repeated with the other five women in the group in fairly rapid succession. In short, he was rejected by six different women without moving his feet. At that level of frustration, I can only imagine how enticing it must be to approach a girl that might be sloshed enough to consider the shit-cone.

I've also been reintroduced to the post-club walking-back-to-the-car girls. I forgot about this phenomenon for a while. It's quite a sad visual most of the time. They are usually mere shells of the strong, sturdy and sexy women they had been on the way to the club. They still travel in tight groups but at this point in the evening, each of them has given up on her shoes. They always seem to be moving as quickly as they possibly can while employing a haphazard team-carry technique on the one that drank too much to care about blisters. The reason for this haste is presumably to escape the incessant barrage of questions like; yo, what's good? and you trying to chill? from surrounding males. Those currently seem to be the go-to, last-ditch do you wanna fuck or not? lines that I hear as distance is created between lamb and wolf after the bar closes.

It should be fun to watch these types of events unfold around me while I count more emerging reasons not to give a shit for the struggles of the vigilantly single. See you Sunday...

"Did You Hear About ___ and ___?!"

Every day it becomes more and more apparent to me that most people are more excited about finding out what happens in the lives of other people than they are about making things happen in their own lives. Or maybe the word isn't "excited," maybe the word I'm looking for is "capable." People are certainly more capable of being nosy than they are of being productive. I think gossip makes me loathe people more than violence does. Not because it makes me angry that people talk about trivialities in other people's lives, but because it further solidifies my lack of faith in the intellect of the general population. I occasionally come to a point where I can look around and start to actually like a good portion of the population around me. Sometimes this feeling can even last more than a day or two. Reality eventually creeps back to the forefront, though.

I say that gossip kills my faith in people. It's not that there is any reason to believe that people won't jabber about any "secret" they get their hands on; that is to be expected. What kills me is that so many people LIVE to find out as many dirty little things as they can about as many people as they can. It makes me realize how simple most minds really are. It almost makes me want to stop using punctuation in this blog. Maybe I can broaden my audience if I dumb things down a bit. Maybe I'll even just start posting vague and frustrated status updates instead. Don't worry, they'd be about someone you know. That's what's interesting, right?

It's my belief that every person needs to have a thing in his or her life that trumps everything and everyone else. That thing could be art, music, athletics, blowing fucking nose-bubbles in the mirror; anything. The minute you can stop and realize that you are more interested in gossip than you are in your thing, it's time to re-evaluate your perception of what is important to you. You are wasting a lot of time while other people do things.

Jesus, this whole post is starting to sound like one big angsty status update. I'm gonna slow down before I start to derail.

Please, all of you, make sure that you have something in your life that is important to you. I'm not talking about boyfriends and girlfriends either; those should take second place at best. The only thing that could possibly trump your thing would be your child. I'm talking about something that is just for you. Get good at something and you will care a lot less about what other people are doing, I promise. It seems like most people with real talent, hobbies, or children seem not to give much of a shit for gossip, although there are obviously exceptions to every rule. I think that you can often tell whether or not an individual has interests of any substance by observing how interested he or she is in other people.

Get a life if you don't have one, folks (and I mean that in the most constructive and nicest way possible); if not for your own sake, then for the sake of our collective intelligence.

A Penetrating Issue

Today I want to talk about a couple of our favorite things as human beings; sex and violence. One is good, the other is bad, yet the taboos associated with the two seem to be skewed. We are programmed from childhood to be ashamed of our sexuality, whether straight or gay. We learn to feel embarrassed if we are caught watching sexually explicit material, yet we gather on the couch to watch portrayals of gratuitous violence. People have street fights, but I have personally never seen a street fuck. A penis penetrating a vagina gets a "XXX" rating while an axe penetrating a human cranium gets and "R" rating. It all just seems a little backwards.

The first time I realized this fact, I was making a transaction at my old job at a video game store. There was a child of about 10 with his mother. She was buying him a copy of Manhunt. Yes, this was a few years back. It was company policy that we informed the parent of a game's content if the game had a "mature" rating (for those of you not savvy to the video game culture, "rated mature" is the video game equivalent of "rated R.") I proceeded  to explain to her that, in this particular game, you play the role of a convict that is released from prison in order to take part in a gritty snuff film in which you are audibly encouraged by the director to murder your victims in the most gruesome manner possible using things like plastic bags, shards of glass, baseball bats and whatever else you can find around the environment. The game was almost barred from release due to the graphic and sadistic nature of its content. Her response was priceless. After a slight hesitation and a quick glance at her angelic and impressionable offspring she ask me the more important question; "Okay, but there's no, like, nudity or anything, right?"

I nearly shit myself.

How the fuck did we arrive at the conclusion that mutilation and murder are more acceptable than a naked human body?! A human body in literally its most natural and uninhibited state is unacceptable in our culture. I'm trying to remain articulate here, but what the fucking fuck? Are you kidding me? If you are more offended by an exposed nipple than you are by someone being cleaved in half with a chainsaw, don't worry, I guess that's totally normal.

Now before you start to think that I'm saying that there should be less violence in our entertainment, I'm not. I am just as entertained watching Leatherface chase down and hack up some teenager as the next guy. I am equally entertained watching a UFC fight or an action flick to which you can play drinking games that coincide with the body count. Violence and sex are both in our nature as human beings, but for some reason we have decided to suppress the more natural and peaceful of the two.

Let's go back to penetration.

If you are reading this and you have a penis, you have probably used it to penetrate another human body by this point in your life. If you are reading this and you have a knife, the same is probably not true. So why then are we more comfortable to sit together and watch heads roll than we are to sit and watch uglies bump? The obvious answer is that a Saturday afternoon circle-jerk is not very appealing to most of us. I think that it may also have something to do with the removal from reality that comes with violent entertainment. Sex hits close to home for almost everyone, while horrifically violent scenarios don't. Also, most of us are not sexually aroused by horrific violence, and sexual arousal has a tendency to breed nervousness. To be repulsed or afraid is less personal than to be aroused.

I still find it funny, though, that if you flip on CSI or NCIS or any of those cornball cop dramas, they will open the show with the image of some mutilated hooker followed by a detailed description of how she ate shit; but when a vibrant and healthy woman removes her top later in the show, they'll come up with any angle or visual obstacle they can to protect you from the sight of those ghastly and offensive bare breasts. It's comforting to know that I can be sure there will be no filth to ruin my enjoyment of mutilated hookers. Thank you, TNT.

The dichotomy of what we find acceptable in entertainment and what we find acceptable in real life is interesting. For instance, you would probably prefer walking into a room to find your friend fucking his roommate over walking into that room to find him murdering his roommate; but that guy would much prefer your walking in on him while he watches a slasher flick over your walking in on him while he watches a skin flick. (I know the term "skin-flick" is corny, it just seemed to work well right there. Whatever. Fuck you.)

I guess that it helps in some ways that things are the way they are. For some people, porn can become an addiction, and many people that fall victim to this problem become desensitized to real sex. Maybe if we were shown too much sex in our entertainment, we would all become desensitized to it. Though I doubt that would happen. On the other side of the coin, no horror movie in this world can desensitize you to real-life violence. I had seen quite a few violent movies before the first time I ever got into a fist fight, and even something as simple as punching someone in the face feels slightly evil the first time you do it. To actually look at another person in front of you and inflict damage on that person's body takes something out of a good person, regardless of his or her taste in entertainment. I'm talking of course about hostile encounters in the real world, not combat sports in which there is a mutual face-punching understanding between combatants.

I'm not trying to start a protest here, I'm simply pointing out another ridiculous aspect of our society and the way we think about things. I realize that sex is usually a very private thing in real life, which is fine; but the fact that nudity is taboo is absolutely asinine when paired with the fact that a huge percentage of our entertainment is reliant on violent imagery. Add it to the list of ass-backwards things we all ignore every day, I guess. Goooo boobies!

You TOTALLY Deserve Better

We are witnessing the death of social experience. It spans every generation and it permeates even the youngest and most innocent among us. My heart breaks each time I see another kid sitting across the table from his parents and siblings at a restaurant, and rather than discussing life and all of the things that are out there in the world, their noses are all stuck in their Androids and iPhones; and what are they doing? They are checking up on everybody else, most of whom are in turn checking up on them. We are people doing nothing but watching other people do nothing; all the while wondering why everyone is so boring.

Every time I'm part of a social gathering of any kind, I can invariably find members of the group sitting and scrolling through their Facebook newsfeeds. How stale and stunted the personalities in the room must be if the daily motions of mere acquaintances can pull you out of an actual experience. People like to talk about living in the moment, but I'm starting to doubt that many people can even recognize a moment as it occurs. The need to find what else is going on in the lives of others perpetually destroys your appreciation for what is going on in front of you. The extent to which we have allowed our lives to be digitized is disturbing. There is a whole world full of interesting people and events around us and we can't see beyond our touch-screens. We are like babies in a photo session who have finally lost interest in visually exploring the room and are focused only on the dancing puppet beside the camera.

Human interaction has been diluted to the point where anything not accompanied by a comment box is almost alien. People seem to prefer poorly punctuated and misspelled text to a human voice. The ability to converse in real-time is suffering. Our conversations, which used to be limited only by the extent of our knowledge or by our depth of opinion, are now limited by character-count and data usage. We also no longer need reasons for blowing people off. "I didn't get ur txt" works wonders. We almost don't need to be real people anymore. Our social network profiles and text-based relationships have become like our great wizards; all-knowing, powerful and overall bad-ass. The problem is that the people behind the curtains are also fooled by their own smoke and mirrors.

How much of an identity can you really have if your most consuming curiosity is the minutiae of the lives of others? Whenever we check our newsfeeds, I'm pretty sure we all do the same thing: we log in, we hope to see something interesting, we begin scrolling, we continue scrolling, we realize that we are wasting time, we scroll some more, we wonder how we ended up "friends" with many of the people we see, we feel better about our own intellect, we refresh the page and hope that somebody has posted something interesting in the time it took to learn that nobody has posted anything interesting, we sigh and scroll...

As a side note, I love how a hot girl can post any type of dog-shit drivel she wants and immediately have 36 "likes" and 28 comments. Guys, keep on "liking" those pseudo-artsy self pics of girls lying on their beds and throwing up peace signs. She will fuck you eventually. You're doing great. She totally knows you exist. Oh, and when she posts an angsty status about men, don't forget to respond with a comment about how she deserves better and that some guys just don't understand or appreciate when they've found the perfect girl. If you are not a hot chick, stop posting things. Nobody gives a shit. That goes for me and for this blog as well, but as a man I will never know any better, so here it is.

In the age of smartphones and social-networking it seems we have finally found the ultimate way to bullshit each other and ourselves while also finding a perfect way to ignore each other. You can mentally check-out of any situation while at the same time digitally "checking-in" to the same situation. You can be in two places at once without necessitating full intellectual or emotional attendance in either place. It's the ultimate armor for your ego. Only through this relatively new medium of communication has such a cold concept given us such a warm and fuzzy feeling.





 

Maintenance and Missionary

There is a common sentiment that life is too short. I don't know where it started or why so many people seem to agree, but as I age and meet more people I am finding that life may be just long enough. Even by the age that we consider mid-life, most people seem to have had enough. There are very few people I know that have reached the crest of the hill and still look ahead with excitement. At a certain point, people stop looking at the road ahead and begin to gaze longingly into the rear-view. I would be more inclined to agree with a statement like, "youth is too short."

We spend our early years waiting for the day that we can call ourselves adults, and when the day finally comes that we can, we begin to forget what it was to be young. Simple pleasures become guilty pleasures, intimate encounters become stale routine, and the quest for fulfillment becomes the struggle for maintenance. None of this has to happen, but it does more often than not. There is a stigma attached to striving for goals that are unlikely to be attained once you have reached a certain age. There comes a time at which you are expected to give up the ghost and plant your roots.

Routine is the greatest enemy of endeavor. (Yes, I just made that one up and I hope it's catchy. Put it in a fortune cookie.) I have found that my life stagnates horribly any time that I fall into a day-to-day routine. A repeating pattern of behaviors disguises the passage of time. When each day is nearly identical to the last, all days that pass might as well have only been one single day. Go to work, come home, have dinner, watch Everybody Loves Raymond, have missionary sex with your spouse and fall asleep on your left side. While this may be an ideal day for somebody, and while there is nothing wrong with missionary sex, it's the repetition of this sequence five times a week that makes life seem too short.

Having such a routine actually works as a crutch for many people. It is an effective distraction from the things that you are NOT doing. It is easy to fool yourself into thinking that your life is complete if you can lull yourself into contentment through a hypnotic sequence of actions that are committed to your emotional muscle-memory. Just know that ten years of this will pass just as quickly as a day.

You can't really make your life any longer than it's going to be. What you can do, though, is to fill it more effectively. One day, instead of watching Everybody Loves Raymond, watch something funny. Whisk your spouse off to the nearest public bathroom and do her from behind over the sink. Go cliff diving. Go trick-or-treating on Christmas morning. Do something to throw a monkey wrench into the gears of the machine you have created. Some of the best experiences and fondest memories in your life have probably occurred immediately following the thought, I can't believe I'm doing this.

As we progress through adulthood, those moments become less frequent to the point that we forget that we can still live them. Life becomes about maintaining the things we have already attained and not about chasing personal fulfillment. We often forget that we can do things just because they are pleasurable and not just because they are part of the daily agenda. Slow the clock down by allowing yourself to experience things that are out of the ordinary and life will not seem so short. If you keep on depriving yourself, it's already over.



 

Don't Tell Mom the Babysitter's Lucifer

This is the story of how I got arrested for being an associate of the Devil.

I was walking home from the gym through Providence on a perfect Saturday afternoon. I would have been hard pressed to think of anything to complain about. The birds were singing and so were the homeless. I somehow had the day off from work, I had had a good workout, and I was going home to enjoy the rest of my free Saturday. I was about 200 yards from my apartment building when I heard him speak. It was a voice that was somewhere between Buffalo Bill and Marlon Brando.

"Hey buddy," the voice said from about thirty feet behind me. I had no reason to believe that "Buddy" was me, but for some reason I assumed that I was indeed the buddy that this guy was looking for. I stopped and turned to face my new friend. I expected someone a little out of the ordinary, and prepared myself to tell him that I was just walking home from the gym so I didn't have any money on me. Even with my expectation of an odd man, what I saw approaching me still caught me off guard.

He was about 6'2" and large framed with a bit of a beer gut, about 50 years old, white, with a beard and a large tear drop tattoo on one cheek. This was all fine. What threw me off was the fact that all he was wearing were a pair of filthy white boxer shorts and running shoes with no socks. I held firm on my plan to tell him that I had no money until he spoke again, this time making solid eye contact with me as if he had finally found his lost soul brother.

"Did you see it?" He asked. I was about to ask him to clarify when he continued. "Did you see the angel?"

Oh fuck.

Any part of my brain telling me that maybe this guy wasn't batshit crazy fell silent, but by that point he was only feet away from me. I began walking and he took his place beside me.  He continued. "Yeaaaa you saw it. They didn't see nothin' though." At this point he must have realized that it was rude not to have introduced himself, so he did.


"Hello, my name is Lucifer," he said as he kept pace beside me. "You saw it right? That fucking bastard, I gave him the beating of his life."

At this point I had no fucking idea what he was talking about. I know I hadn't seen this guy beat anyone up, and I sure as fuck hadn't seen an angel. I assumed that he was living out some fantasy and that the best thing to do would be to keep him from getting excited or offended. I played along by nodding my agreement while watching for any sudden movements.

Now kids, as a quick aside: if a big, scary, dirty, nearly naked white man with facial tattoos finds you on the street, asks you if you saw a supernatural being of any kind, and then introduces himself as a deity, it is best not to continue the conversation. Nothing good will come of it.

He went on. "That bastard, he called me a fucking diddler," he huffed, clearly upset by the presumption.

Not to be a dick here, but to that other bastard's defense, the first thing I thought when I laid eyes on Lucifer was that he looked a lot like a fucking diddler. What do I know anyway? I did my best to make it clear that my belief is that people can't just walk around calling other people diddlers. Lucifer agreed.

"I'm no fucking diddler," he continued. "My father, Satan, HE was a diddler."

I have always been under the impression that Lucifer and Satan were different names for the same guy, but I was corrected by the man in the flesh so again, what do I know? He went on to tell me that he had sent his father, Satan, to hell before becoming the babysitter for Adam and Eve. It had only been a matter of time before he had deemed it necessary that they be sent to hell as well. I was learning a lot as we approached a 3-way intersection with a set of lights near Finnegan's bar. That was when the cruisers showed up.

There were five of them; four marked and one undercover. They came in from every possible direction, surrounding us completely; the Devil and his minion, both modestly dressed. We were immediately tossed against the nearest cruiser and patted down. They took my cell phone and house key. I kept my mouth shut, not because I was afraid to speak but because I was actually glad that I wasn't going to have to figure out a way to ditch Lucifer and I knew that I would be cleared as soon as somebody asked me a question.

I was then cuffed and thrown into the back of another cruiser. If you have never been cuffed and thrown into a cruiser, I will say this: it's a bit like being cuffed and thrown into a cruiser. Try it if you really want to know. For a second, part of me thought that it would be hilarious to shout at the other officers, "DON'T ARREST MY FRIEND!" but I thought better of it knowing that I would probably have been the only one laughing. Also, based on the scene, it wouldn't have been crazy to think that maybe this guy had just killed someone.

We were then driven in separate cars to the scene of the crime. This is where I found out that Lucifer actually had given some guy the beating of his life. There were three more cruisers and an ambulance at the scene, Kennedy Square. Through my window I saw Fucking Bastard surrounded by people. His face was not in good shape. Lucifer hadn't been lying about the beating. I was then released from custody and received and apology from the arresting officers. They offered me a ride home which I refused.

On the way back home I couldn't help but think; if he wasn't lying about the beating, maybe he wasn't lying about any of it... That's actually not true, it just sounds kind of cool.

Life in Reverse

There are too many canned phrases being thrown around out there, and I hate almost all of them. Among some classics of our day are; Really??, Cool story bro, Awkwaaaard and That's why we can't have nice things. These are generally used in a piss-poor attempt at humor by those who have difficulty formulating legitimate jokes in a given situation, and are generally harmless. Given their harmlessness and the good intentions of the people who use them regularly, these phrases probably shouldn't piss me off the way they do, but facts are facts and I'm not one to lie to myself. In another category of canned phrases are the ones we use in situations in which you want to say some helpful words to someone who is dealing with a troublesome situation. These are things like; Well, what are you gonna do?, It is what it is, What doesn't kill you makes you stronger, and my all time fucking favorite, Everything happens for a reason. There are few phrases uttered in the English language that go up my ass further than, "everything happens for a reason."

The short and simple reason that I hate that particular saying is that it's a complete cop-out and almost everyone uses it. Usually, it's used as a last resort when a situation sucks to the point of no reconciliation and the best thing to do is to look it in the face and say, "well this sucks, but I didn't die, so I guess I have to get over it eventually." I'm not saying that grieving is not necessary in some cases because it most definitely is. What I am saying is that whatever happened sure as fuck didn't happen as a means to an end. When a kid dies in a car accident because of a drunk driver or a couple is killed when their bucket falls off the Ferris wheel, what divine reason can you offer to those who have lost them?

Here's a stupid example, but even something as simple as locking your keys in your car can be twisted and manipulated to the point where you could say that there was a reason for it; maybe because the AAA guy that shows up happens to be your high school crush and you finally get to tell him. Or maybe the only person you can get a hold of is your ex and she drives straight down to the parking lot (the one where your stupid ass locked itself outside) and tells you that she cries every night knowing that she can never have you back. I don't know. I can guarantee you though; you probably just had a lapse in brilliance and shut the car door before taking the keys out. Anything that happens after that is because you locked the keys in the car; you didn't lock them in there so that the chain of events that follows could take place.

Other than the fact that "everything happens for a reason" implies that life occurs in reverse, it also implies that we are FAR more important than we really are. Human beings and our super-sized egos need a reason or an explanation for everything. Also, each person on earth is the main character in his or her own story, so it can be damaging to realize that most of the events in your life are unrelated and inconsequential to the happenings outside of your home or office. The fact is that the world generally turns as if you as an individual are not even on it.

We each live in a microcosm in which everything is of the utmost importance. People who have trouble coping with the things inside these microcosms turn to coping mechanisms such as therapy, drugs, alcohol and in extreme cases suicide or violence. When these things occur, any person's little world can be rocked; but when you pan out enough so that you can see the big world, you can see that nothing has really changed. To think that things happen to you in order to forward the world's big plan for you borders on arrogance.

I might have gone off on a bit of a tangent there. Anyway, cut the shit with the canned phrases and say something new. Say something that you are actually thinking. The human population is starting to resemble an assembly line of pull-string dolls that are released from the factory with predetermined phrase-banks. We are fed rapid-fire bullshit almost every second of the day. The least we can do is to stop bullshitting each other, but that's some perfect-world talk right there.

The Effectual Blindness of the Eternal Huntsman

Sometimes it seems like children are actually smarter than most adults. They don't know as much, obviously, but they see more. Or maybe they don't see more, but they are not afraid to tell you what they see. As adults, a lot of us make believe that we can't see things in our lives that are glaringly obvious. Whether it's a developing relationship with someone outside of your marriage or relationship, a growing dependence on alcohol, or a subtle change in personality that would come with unpleasant or unsavory situations in your life, a child will immediately call you on it. They have bloodhound-like noses for changes in demeanor. If a child tells you something about yourself, it's probably true.

This pure, uninhibited ability to recognize things that should be alarming is something that we learn to suppress as we get older. The less we acknowledge disturbing realizations throughout each day, the calmer the waters remain on the surfaces of the delicate lakes that are our lives. What goes on beneath the surface is of no consequence as long as everything appears well to passing boaters. Those passing boaters are your coworkers, friends, your spouse or partner, your kids. As I said before, the kids seem to be the ones that will jump into the water and drag up things that you were happy to ignore. It's hard to say whether or not we should do the same thing as adults. Truth tends to breed chaos.

It might not be the best idea to express childlike honesty with everyone around you, but it is probably a good idea to be childishly honest with yourself most of the time. It's a shame that as we age and we develop complex emotions and desires, our brains simultaneously develop complex defense mechanisms to protect us from them. We never get the chance to truly face ourselves with complete vulnerability. The end result is that we can go years living lives that we never actually wanted and convince ourselves that we are doing great. The bills are paid, you have a great boyfriend, girlfriend or spouse, your car is running and you aren't hungry. It's all so good that to be unhappy with any of it would just be silly.

Sometimes living the dream just isn't the right thing. Everyone is so different that there is no conceivable way that we all want the same thing. We are led to believe over the early years of our lives that there are certain things that we are supposed to have by a certain point in our lives, so we convince ourselves that we need those things. I don't know many people who do not want spouses, homes of their own, and children, and it is fine and healthy to want all of that. I sometimes wonder, though, if some people would still chase those things if they had never been taught to want them.

I think that many times, in regards to many things, it takes having something to make you realize that you don't want it. In that way, I suppose we do remain like children. We always want the next thing; the next date, the next step, the next commitment the way we wanted the next toy or the next video game as children. It's only when we get our hands on these things that we ever stop and say, "okay, now what?" It all comes down to the chase. In order to feel alive, we need to be chasing something. Our ancient ancestors chased berries and buffalo, today we chase milestones and marriages. Whatever your trophy, life loses some of its zest once the hunt is over.

The Great Quest for the Mediocre

I am not a love guru by any stretch of the imagination. So do yourself a favor and take everything I say with a grain of salt, and also a shot of hard liquor if it suits your taste. With that disclaimer out of the way I will say this; STOP LOOKING FOR LOVE! Love is kind of like a lost TV remote, you are only going to find it when you are not really looking for it; most likely when you have too many things going on to even care to find it. The kids are late for the bus, there is oatmeal on the kitchen floor, the cat has a urinary tract infection and you are struggling to stuff yourself into a pair of jeans that you could have sworn fit last week; and then you stub your toe on the fucking thing as you hobble past the dishwasher. Who the hell puts the remote under the dishwasher? It's the same guy who puts your soul mate in your boyfriend's fantasy football league or in your wife's book club, or behind the counter at the coffee shop taking your order when you haven't shaved for three days or worked out for eight months. Yea that guy's an asshole, but he never takes a day off.

Now before you go and say, "soul mate? You believe in soul mates?" No, I don't, but I do believe that some people are better for you than others. The problem is that most of us don't wait for that person to come around. We LOOK for relationships when we are single, and that's a terrible idea, you fool. You are just setting everyone up for delayed failure. What I mean by that is that when you are actively searching for that "special" someone, you are far too likely to overlook things that should tell you to pass to the next one. I'm talking about deal breakers. We all have them, but the more desperate you get, the more deal breakers you will let slip through the cracks until you settle on someone that would normally be a walking billboard for the phrase "no, thank you." Then about six months in, after the new-love smell wears off and when the bubbly fits of joy that come with laying eyes on each other start losing their bubble, you are then stuck getting to know each other. Oh, shit.

This is where most couples fail. If the person with whom you have ended up came to you at a time when all you wanted was someone to be with, then the chances that you are going to grow more fond of this person with the passage of time are very slim. It's not to say that there is anything wrong with wanting someone in your life. Everyone gets lonely, but don't compromise what you want in a person just so that you can have somebody in your life. There are so many people out there that there is no reason to constantly be searching for your next chance at love. And if you need to satisfy your primal urges and don't want to take home floozies or douchebags from the bar, then what's wrong with a good old-fashioned fuck buddy? Some people get uptight about that, but isn't it nice to have a friend that you know and trust whom you can also fuck from time to time? Just as long as things don't become "complicated." FB's need to be on the same page emotionally if nobody is going to get hurt.

Like I said at the beginning of this post, I'm no expert in the field of love and romance; but the whole experience is so different from case to case that I don't believe that the "experts" can be truly clairvoyant on the subject either. In my humble and unschooled opinion, the only thing that seems to matter outside of the obvious initial attraction is honesty.You need to be able to speak truth, and even more, you need to be ready to hear it. If you are going to give part of your life to someone else, you better make sure that you can honestly be yourself with that person. If you have to hide a portion of your personality from someone, you are not with the right someone.

I'm not exactly sure what makes me want to post this type of advice here. I guess I'm sick of seeing everyone around me live out the same pattern of systematic disappointment over and over again. Stop adapting your standards in order to make people fit. Your standards are there for a reason and there are plenty of people who fit them. Your chances of finding them; meh, you have a better chance of catching a winning lottery ticket out of the bolt of lightning that strikes and kills a shark just as it is about to drag you underwater.

Praise Be to Booze and Peace Be with You

A very drunk man approached me at a bar and asked me if I have faith. He was skinny and had the posture of a buoy on a breezy lake. Being fairly sloshed myself, I told him that yes, I have faith in a lot of things. I already knew that this man was going to try to change my outlook on Heaven and the Earth. I gave him a minute to digest my words as he blankly stared through me and allowed the gears to turn in his drowning brain. He clarified his question to me.

"Do you have faith in something up above?" he asked me. At this point I could tell that his intentions were pure and harmless so I actually felt a little guilty for my opening smartassery. I looked at him in the eyes and knew that I was about to disappoint him, but I continued regardless.

"To be completely honest with you," I said, "no, I don't." I felt something for this man that was somewhere between pity and kinship, and I can't really explain why. Maybe he just has a good soul or some horse shit like that, but I felt the need to be honest with him. I saw a flicker of sadness cross his face and continued. "I think that it is up to us as individuals to look out for each other and make sure that the world doesn't go to hell." I guess looking back, it's not the most profound thing I've ever said but I was drunkenly on my heels in the first place so I think I did okay, considering. The look that came across his face was as if someone had just revealed to him that he was the sacred bearer of the great secret meaning of life. I could have sworn that I saw a golden light wash across his countenance for just a second as he absorbed my acute wisdom.

He smiled, shook my hand and introduced himself as... fuck, I don't remember. He then proceeded back to his seat where he was confronted and escorted out of the bar by an employee. I don't know what he did to get kicked out of a dive bar before I enlightened him, but I hope that he has been saved. Praise the Lord Baby Jesus.

As "Real" as it Gets, For Now...

Okay, this is the first real post on this blog. I'm still considering which topics should grace the seminal pages of this project. I'm going to avoid politics for a while. I may never touch upon politics. I find that talking to anyone about politics is pointless overall. Either the other person already agrees with you or they never will. Either way, no ground can be made or lost. Arguing with someone in hopes of changing his or her political ideas is about as useful and just as pleasant as punching yourself continuously in the genitals in hopes of a spontaneous change in gender. It's all painful and always a waste of time. Try both if you don't believe me.

I am going to come off as a cynic most of the time, so I guess I'll diffuse any questions of depression or bipolar right now. What many people call cynicism, I usually just call common sense. I think that there is a great advantage in knowing that the world really doesn't give the smallest morsel of hamster shit what happens to you. In my mind, this thought is not depressing, but empowering. It helps one to take responsibility for one's own actions and situations rather than just going with the old standby, "everything happens for a reason." That saying has always gone up my ass a mile but we can discuss that on another day. For today, Day 1, I don't want to focus upon too specific a topic.

In the realm of love and relationships I have a deep well of opinions and many of them are going to make me look like an asshole, I'm sure. Just know that most of the time a small part of you is going to agree with me, motherfucker. Just don't tell your BF/GF and you will be fine. I have found that almost every romantic relationship is built on lies and ego. For today, for the sake of keeping these posts short and easy to digest, I won't go into too much detail on that topic either. Most of us, though, are liars. Usually not pathological liars or even regular scumbags, but we lie just enough to keep the peace and to protect the egos of the ones we love. It's quite cute, really, to observe the difference between where we like to think our moral lines are drawn and where we actually draw them.

So it looks like I'm about to go on to a second page and I'm going to try to avoid that; at least until you get to know me better and when I know that you want to read more in one sitting. Hopefully this has been an effective introduction over the past couple of days. I feel like this is going to be a fun project and the more people that get involved, the more I will post. I'll try to keep things interesting...

What You Will See Here

This page is geared toward anyone who has a realistic view of the world and hasn't been brainwashed by the hopeless-romantic bullshit and political fluff that bombards us every day. I wanted to create a page for everyone that knows that people are generally full of shit. Most of us lie to each other, lie to ourselves and our significant others, drink too much on occasion, smoke too much on others, and swear when grandma isn't in the room. Here I will post rants, stories, and other likely pointless ramblings for all to see and judge.

The contents of these pages will most likely contain strong opinions about things like relationships and love, alcohol, drugs, nightlife, sex, work, play and anything else that happens to be on my mind or on the minds of the readers. Feedback is welcome as I would like to know how my views are received, whether positive or negative. Either way works.

Before you ask; no, I am not some spiteful asshole who has recently had his heart broken and is now looking for a way to vent his emotions to a sea of strangers. Despite many of the opinions and experiences you may read about on this page, I am, as of now, happily in love with an awesome girl. While there is a part of me that is always skeptical, this one has proven to be delightfully... "unusual" is a good word, I suppose. Not that a stranger reading this page is really going to give half a shit about that, I digress.

This blogging thing is not a full-time job for me. In fact, this is my first one. That being said, I will say that I don't know how often I will be posting but if you are interested in reading it, you can follow this blog and at least get a chuckle out of my dismal appraisal of the things that we all hold in the highest regards.