Punctuated Progress

I decided to sit in front of the fan for a few minutes and take a breather, as I'm currently in the process of moving. My new place is seriously going to be a palace compared to where I've been living, and the best part of all is that I won't have roommates anymore. For some odd reason, over the past few years I find that people tend to build non-verbalized expectations around me and then try to punish me when I don't anticipate and fulfill them. In this last case, I began to find that I was in trouble for things I not only wasn't doing, but also the things that I did do. Unfortunately, when I made the effort to discuss the situation and hopefully resolve it, I was met instead with an ultimatum. No, that's not right, it was more of a decree passed down by royalty. In doing so, I was left with an unanswered attack on my character and no discourse that would allow all of us to possibly see the other's perspective, or at the very least, save a friendship.

Ok, in a quick aside, I have to give an overview of this absurd attack on my character. For being asked to do a favor, which I did, I was informed that I was "extremely selfish" with a condescending look. The favor: to cook dinner, which I came through on so far as to buy all the food and prepare it all myself. Why I'm selfish: I didn't ask when they wanted it cooked for them. Yup, that appears to be it, but of course, I wasn't honored with the dignity of any further explanation. When I brought it up again later and denied the accusation, I was scoffed at, which should apparently have convinced me of my guilt. So I said, "Ok, explain to me how that is selfish. Convince me," to which I was answered simply, "It's debatable," and then he walked away. Yes, it was a crushing defeat, as the superior intellect apparently doesn't have to justify flagrant accusations when they know they're right.

For intelligent people that consider themselves "enlightened", I find the behavior unbelievable, and if I weren't so disgusted with them and the situation, I would be a bit ashamed for them. As with many people that I have absolutely no respect for, things basically degraded to the point where I stopped talking to them and we were happy to ignore each other. I'm assuming the oppressive atmosphere that resulted is why they have left for the weekend, allowing me to take my time getting my things together and have probably the most relaxed move I can remember. I will now take this last opportunity to offer them a heartfelt thanks for the disappearing act, because I can't foresee any conversation or light banter in the future. If I were to verbalize anything, it would probably sound more like "Fuck you."

I have to copy/paste what I wrote a while ago in the "About Me" section of my facebook page. It seems to be ringing truer all the time.

When you first met me, I might've seemed aloof and one of the biggest assholes you've ever met. After a while, I might suddenly transform into the nicest guy you've ever met. After a couple years, I'll probably find a way to reattain my original status.

Heh.

--
Disclaimer: After becoming a student of creative writing, one of my roommates gave me permission to use anything from the house as subject matter for my writing. Well, there you go, and thanks again. I'll be sure to remember that.

You mean they sell refried beans and cheese already mixed?!?

Listen closely, this is important. When it is so cold that you're standing there hugging yourself over the top of your huge coat for warmth yet still don't notice that your shorts have fallen off because your legs are so numb, it's probably a good idea to wear pants.

I just learned this in my dream last night. I wish I could remember the rest of it, because I'm assuming it would have been entertaining. I'm just surprised and happy that I can recall any of it, because my dreams don't like to be remembered. Truly, this is a day for celebrating life. And the pursuit of, uhm, dreams.

Rednecks loves 'em them whip antennea.

I was actually listening to the radio as I was driving earlier today. This is something I don't normally do, considering I'm not usually in my car long enough to hear more than one song per trip, so I don't even bother listening to the crap that some demographic study has decided would be the most popular and draw the most ad revenue in that particular listening area. As it so happens, I had a couple miles to go, so I turned up the volume and caught a commercial break. The first commercial played was using an emotionally charged narrative of a father describing in a passionate voice how he had "put his son in a salvaged vehicle" that had caused another accident. It was almost disturbing how mad he sounded, as if he would beat down the person he bought the car from if he ever saw him again.

Now, a couple commercials later, there's an ad for an auto repair place, and their angle was that some guy had an accident and they fixed it so that it looked like nothing had ever happened to the car. The background singers from the jingle said something at the end about "What accident?" to which he answers, "Right," in a sly, nudge nudge, wink wink voice.

I hate marketing.

Mr. Impressive. Check him out. No, seriously, check him out.

I couldn't take the hype any longer and finally braved it to the local movie picture show house to see if I couldn't sneak me a seat to watch the summer's blockbuster.



Yes, I stole that picture, and considering it was from some random guy's blog, I'm assuming he stole it as well. I guess that makes my guilt compounded, or something like that. Anyway, just see this movie, it's worth it. I have to admit, I was never that big a fan of Heath Ledger, and all those public displays of mourning were almost enough to make me dry heave. I know, I know, I sound extremely callous, but think about this; of all the people that wail and moan when the latest darling of the spotlight passes on, how many knew him, and I mean really knew him? Not all that many, would be my guess. Imagine if all those people would be anywhere near as affected by the death of, say, a soldier overseas, or maybe even one of those nameless faces they see semi-regularly during their daily routines. Oh, that's right; those guys are nobodies.

Yeesh, I've apparently got some venom pent up that needed to get out. Sorry, Heath. To quote your last character, "Nothing personal." Hell, I even have to agree with one of my friends who said that he kicked Jack Nicholson's Joker all the way to next week and back. And he did.

So back to the flick, and the rest of this paragraph deals with subject matter from the film, not specific details. If you haven't seen it and would rather not know anything, then skip to the next paragraph now. There was some interesting content that I was watching for after talking to another friend from school who writes movie reviews. He mentioned something about how people of the Republican and/or sick in the head persuasion who think that torture and invasion of privacy are justifiable means to an end are rumbling on the Intertubes about how this movie exemplifies their viewpoint, which it does - sorta. Funny how a movie made in an age when these are extreme hot button topics is actually only using current examples of themes the Batman comics - sorry, graphic novels - have been using for quite some time. Batman has always been one of those characters with questionable morals. Keep in mind, his primary motivation was to kill someone for revenge. It must've been that damn Adam West and his hippified version of Batman from the 60's that turned everyone's memories all saccharine and made them forget that Batman could probably be more accurately defined as an anti-hero, something that isn't necessarily such a good thing to be, whether it's in reference to a person or a country. That, and Adam West makes for a kick ass mayor of Quahog.

I also had to fight the urge multiple times to run out to the snack bar and buy the largest beverage I could in order to throw it as hard as possible at someone's head. As an open letter to the general populace, please refrain from texting, or for that matter, from simply opening your damn cellphones and creating a small spotlight during the movie. I tend to like to sit towards the back, and as much as I try to stay away from people, it never fails that some dirthead is so important that communication with the outside world cannot be put on hold for the two hours of the film that they voluntarily paid to see. How, oh how did humanity suffer through a movie before all these miraculous advances in communications technology? Some days, I think I'd just giggle my ass off to see something that would take it all away, if only for a day or two. All the poor, poor people. I guess it's easy for me to say, sitting here in front of my computer, but at least I'm confident that I'd take the opportunity to tear into this stack of books I've been wanting to read that almost seems to grow faster than I can get through them.

That's it for now. I have no idea why I'm in such a sour mood today, but maybe I'll wake up tomorrow and not feel like snapping at everything. Wish me luck.

He had a cop mustache.

I'm sure strange things happen on a daily basis to plenty of people, but it just seems sometimes like the simplest things just put a spin on my day and won't get out of my mind. This just happened today. I ran into someone that I haven't talked to in at least 2-3 years. I have to admit, I've seen this person since then, but sometimes I can call upon my ninja talents and blend into the crowd with a puff of smoke, disappearing from view. Unfortunately there was no crowd today, so I was caught in the open and forced to access my conversation files and scan them for categories of chit chat that were polite yet gave the impression that I was pressed for time. Don't get me wrong, he's a nice guy at heart, but also one of those people that can trap you forever once he gets going, much like some of my blog entries. I assume that just about anyone can relate to this type of situation, so take a moment to imagine a person in your life that fits this bill while I construct the setting.

I was in one my favorite haunts, the local coffee shop, listening to music and staring at my laptop as I tried to pry the current story idea from the murky haze in my brain and hoping that caffeine would be the catalyst I needed to make it happen. When I gave up and started packing everything into my man purse to retreat home, I heard someone say, "Erik?" from somewhere close behind me. I was caught. I won't go into the details of the entire conversation, because it was basically just small talk and catching up, but there was one thing at the beginning that just keeps rattling around in my memory, and I had to write it down. One of the first things he said to me as I was shutting down my laptop was, "I didn't know you could type."

For people that know me, this is obviously an absurd observation, as I practically live at my computer desk with (usually) no less than two, sometimes three computers running random processes simultaneously. That, and I'm currently an English grad student in creative writing. But to have someone, especially this day in age, be surprised that someone can type and feel they need to comment on it just spiked my strange-o-meter into the red zone.

I'm currently self-medicating with a cold beer and some metal music, and I think I'll pull through. Please, no donations or gifts.