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June 12, 2013
How I Handle Rejection
So yesterday I decided to drop by Wal-Mart to get a pair of blue jeans. Now I know I just lost a lot of you there, but the rest stick with me. Yes, I occassionaly buy blue-jeans, button-up shirts, and other clothing items at Wal-Mart. Usually in a bind, but sometimes not, so go fuck yourself if you think it's low-class.
At any rate, I actually got in, found a decent pair of twelve dollar pants, and headed to the self-checkout, like I always have since the option had been presented for me to do so. Right as I'm getting my change out of the machine, I hear my name in a drawn out, dramatic manner. What in the fuck. I was almost home free.
A pretty young blonde walks up, and, although I don't know her, I'm certain she knows me, and I'm getting a gut feeling it's a Facebook Phenomena occuring before my very eyes... That akward moment when someone who internet stalks you via Facebook meets you in real life and treats you as if you know them, when you don't, but may have registered their face and name in your subconsious several times while reading Facebook newsfeeds over the years. You know... that akward moment. And it was that awkward moment that spawned another, as I quickly realized she had just been promoted to a leadership position inside the chain-bank that all Wal-Mart stores seem to have now, and was hitting me up to open a checking account.
Let me tell you that I've not only been in her shoes, I've mastered and moved on from that job. I despise that job. I feel for her, but that doesn't mean I was going to get suckered in. I patted her on the head and told her I had a meeting to go to, declined her rebuttal of, "I can get you out in five!" and headed towards the door.
Later on that evening, I found myself wondering who the fuck this girl was, as she was kind of cute. Deciding to see if my gut-instinct was right, and see if she's on Facebook, I logged on and guessed the first name I could thought I remembered... And there she was. So I sent her a message apologizing for not being able to open the account and then proceded to ask if she'd like to go on a date. A few hours later, she messaged back.
"No, but thank you for asking!"
That pissed me off. It shouldn't have, but it did. So I wrote her back.
"No problem... Now I'm gonna come open an account with $75,000 tomorow to make you feel stupid for turning me down."
I then, assuming she would tell me to go fuck myself because I just hit really close to home for the money-driven girl, was then messaged back almost immediately. I did not know what to make of the reply...
"Wow... Well...Come see me!"
First I laughed about it, and then I thought about it, and then I decided to write one more jab to make me feel better about the rejection.
"LOL. I'm just kidding. I keep my money in real banks."
I'm such a lying asshole sometimes. I know...I'm working on it.
I hate the fact that the general concensus on social ettiqute currently states that you don't discuss politics or religion. Those are the only two things in life that really get me excited right now, and I feel like they are inherently intertwined anyways.
I was brought up in the Church, a Christian, who really didn't appreciate, due to my own naievity, the whole point of what I was being subscribed to year in and year out; multiple times a week. God bless them, my mother and grandparents in particular, for doing that.
Recently I stopped at a local gas station to put a little gas in the ole tank. As I went inside, on the opposite side of the pump I was at, sharing the pump with me, technically, was a young(ish) guy with a 2 gallon gascan. I didn't really pay him any mind, as I simply noted it and moved on to pay for my gas, until I came back outside the store and saw him in that familiar akward position trying to put gas into the gascan, which, naturally, was on the ground in front of the pump.
A lightbulb went off in my head. Why don't they have a little fold down shelf a couple feet off the ground on the side of the pump so one could simply set on top and fuel up a gascan up without having to bend or kneel at all?
I offered the guy a ride, just in case he ran out of gas somewhere. He declined, pointing to the house across the street with the high grass; garage door open and yard equipment readied for use.
​ I've said it before and I'll say it again, we are all influenced in the strangest of ways, and that is a fundemental truth for everyone.
June 7th, 2013
As we grind through our daily routines, every once in a while we stop, or at the very least mindlessly continue whatever it is that we are doing, quite ineffectively might I add, and start to ponder on the wonder and beauty and mystery that is life. Short and brief, though, for anything longer leaves open for the world the opportunity to render you as a bum, a loser, or worse, crazy.
The American Dream; apparently it means something completely different to us all, and that is becoming more and more apparent in today's super-accelerated society. Some lust for the money, boats, and expensive houses. Some go towards the opposite end of the spectrum and wish only for large, beautiful families to grow old and share experiences with. That pretty much lumps in the lot of us, however, there is a third group that exists today within the homeland today.
I speak of a group that finds themselves in a collective state of total shock, yearning only for time to be left alone to think, reassess, and recover. Demographics be damned! This group boasts a wide variety of gender, age, and ethnic diversity. It reaches from the Pacific to the Atlantic. It reaches into even the farthest corners of this country, and it does not discriminate between rural and urban lifestyles. This third group not only exists, but they are scattered everywhere, and they are in complete and utter disarray.
Maybe the original American Dream was tainted a bit... Did we really need the nice house, nice lush green grass, nice white picket fence, the fully AKC registered Maltese Poodle? No, but it was very nice, very nice indeed, for about 30 years. Little did we know that these simple, harmless, well-deserved pleasures of a good life would turn us all into monsters with insatiable appetites for the things of this world that truly don't matter. Bombarded with messages telling you everything you own is obsolete, and so are you if you don't upgrade soon, in some way we are all now feeding the beast, and keeping up with the Johnson's.
But hey, that is the beauty of the American Dream after all; We all get to choose what our dream will be... Or do we?
