I've had a lot of stuff in my head lately and I wanted to write about them. Typically, I haven't had a lot of time or ability to sit down and do that. When I do, I just don't feel like writing. So I'm forcing myself to accomplish something. Of course I should be forcing myself to write the article I've been mulling around in my head for a week and a half, but I digress.
Blog 1. Letter to Me.
There's a Brad Paisley song, Letter to Me. It's not one of his best, but it's good.
It's about a dude who wishes he could write a letter to himself as a kid. I was thinking about that recently; what I would say to 18 year old me. And it wouldn't be much. {Skip college, but read more. Scrap the poetry and start writing. Get a full time job and work hard. Save money and start a business out of town; maybe a comic shop.} That first part is pretty key. I don't think there is any greater waste of my time and money than college. I learned nothing, gained no usable job skills and have greater debt as a result. Literally the only good thing to come out of college was my time at Disney. So it's a legitimate regret. I'm sure I could come up with other things to tell myself, but those are the bullet points.
Blog 2. Crazy Girls
You ever find yourself attracted to someone you don't like? Why is that? What the fuck is wrong with humans that we desire things we know are wrong? Cats don't stare longingly at dogs. Or fuck their best friend to get close to them.
See, there was this girl yesterday... We've met twice, and she was entirely unpleasant and unbelievably rude the first time. So when she was around yesterday, I was doing my best to ignore her. However, she wasn't being a cunt just then, so after a while it felt more like I was just being a dick. I tried to soften up and I wasn't entirely successful. Once I get to genuinely disliking someone, it takes A LOT for me to shift streams.
And so I still don't like her. But the whole time I kept thinking about pretty she was. And I kept looking and looking. I don't have a crush or anything, but there is desire there.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want a girlfriend right now. I couldn't afford one if I did. And beyond that, I'm concerned that this girl may be genuinely insane. But it's rare that I'm attracted to a woman on more than just a passing, sexual level. I see plenty of women on the street that I would like to have sex with, but that's usually about it. Maybe there's more wrong with me emotionally than even I suspect. UGH.
Blog 3. Sell Crazy Somewhere Else, Bitch
I'd like to preface this with a disclaimer. I was raised Catholic, but am not Catholic. I have no position on whether Jesus is the son of God. Religion, I decided long ago, is not for me. That said, one of my pet peeves is the current wave of Anti-Religious nonsense that seems to permeate culture these days. "Religious people are all crazy, brain washed idiots!" What the fuck ever. I'm not interested in your hypocrisy or extremism to the Left or the Right. Being an anti-religious zealot doesn't make you any better than being a religious zealot, and we've all got our own bullshit that we shovel on the pile.
Rant over.
So I've been fighting with the post office again. An important envelope was mailed to me that required my signature upon receipt, and since it was sent to my home, I haven't gotten it. I was able to sneak away from work briefly to make the long trek to my neighborhood post office both Thursday and Friday. Despite leaving a note that says {Please pick up your envelope at the post office.} the dumb bitch keeps trying to deliver it. It's frustrating.
My second attempt on Friday was significantly more frustrating. I went around 12, so I figured the Post Office would be packed and given my luck of late, I assumed something bad was going to happen. I parked a couple of buildings down bc the parking lot there is always full. I ran into the building praying no one would call a tow truck. To my shock there was only one woman in line. HALLELUJAH! Unfortunately it quickly became evident the woman wasn't making a transaction; she was merely holding up BOTH of the women behind the counter so she could get some shit off of her chest. Now I'm aggravated. I'm in a rush, bitch. Kindly get the fuck out so I can get my shit. That's enough to piss me off all by itself, but then I started listening to her.
Apparently this woman had some sort of prophetic dream in which one of the women behind the counter told her something (I have no idea what) and it happened. "OH MAH GAHD, you don't understand... when she said that, it was just like in my dream...." Now, we've all had weird deja vu experiences, and I know how that can freak you out. But I'm in a rush and I need to get my shit, and YOU- bitch- are holding me up. Well then she starts talking about how she doesn't think God is talking to her ---which I was glad, because if she DID think God was talking to her, I assumed that conversation would have taken a lot longer and possibly involved recommendations for deodorant. No, she explained God doesn't talk to the Gentiles anymore. Okaaaaaaay. And this has what to do with what? Madam, you are now testing my unwillingness to hurt women. Then she tells us that her husband died 2 months ago. So now I simultaneously feel like a dick and am realizing that she won't be leaving anytime soon and as a result, neither will I. "I know that my husband is in Heaven with the LAWD right now because he was a TRUE BELIEVER!" And she pointed to the ceiling when she mentioned Heaven, as if God was one floor up at the Post Office. Which is fucking frightening. If St Peter is a Government employee, we are collectively fucked.
I was still feeling a twinge of guilt as she migrated from the passing of her apparently Sainted husband to her general beliefs. Something about the difference between the Old Testament and the New Testament. "And if you read the Scripture, God doesn't talk to us like he used to." True. He mainly seems to talk to homeless people who dance with umbrellas in sunshine. Still I felt a little bad for her, but that was quickly passing. And then she said it.
"BUT THE JEEEEEEWWWSSS... NOW THE JEWS ARE DAMNED, BECAUSE THEY KILLED THE MESSIAH." (Yeah, she said it really fucking loud like that, I guess because she wanted to be sure we were paying attention. Or maybe she was trying to persecute someone outside.)
Okay... a couple of things. I realize some sects of Christianity do teach this despite the fact that it isn't entirely historically accurate, even by Christianity's own accounts. That said, I think only the most ardent and blind among the religious believe the Homos are Satan's butt-fucking minions and Jews are damned because of something a few people they never met did 2000 years ago. (In addition to the fact that Jesus died specifically to atone for the sins of mankind, including voting for his death. That's kind of the point of the fucking story.)
Secondly, I am well aware of the rampant Anti-Sematism that is growing in the world despite the Holocaust having happened less than 100 years ago. But still, what the fuck?
And lastly... I'm okay with racism and prejudice. It's human nature. As long as you don't attempt to injure someone when I can do something about it, I'll just ignore you. You have a right to your opinion as much as I have mine. That's the bitch of personal freedoms. But I truly don't get people who blurt shit like that out in front of total strangers. Granted, it's a fairly safe bet that the two black women weren't Jewish. They could have been though, and what about me? I could be Jewish. Or I could be married to someone Jewish. How the fuck does she know? Do I have FUCK DRADELS tattooed on my back? And beyond all that, WHAT THE FUCK DO THE SOULS OF JEWISH PEOPLE HAVE TO DO WITH YOUR DREAM?
...sigh. Thankfully, the woman left after that. But no, my letter still wasn't there.
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