a roundabout story

here you find another "cowbirds in love" comic, though i don't find this one extremely funny. the reason i post it is the story that goes with it from the author. click on the picture to go to the page and read his story the frame.

when i read that story i had a bit of a flashback, and found i was laughing at myself. when TheMom had her first heart attack, us kids were kinda stuck fending for ourselves a bit. granted i was either a sophomore or junior in high school, there were some things we just didn't do... like grocery shopping. i can still picture it vividly, going to the kroger's with TheYoungerSister and TheGirlfriend(AtTheTime). we grabbed the buggy and split up going around the store getting what was on our little piece of the list. my job was to get lunchmeat for the house. i never paid attention to when TheMom bought lunchmeat, but i figured i was smart enough, i could figure it out. i took a number and waited in line, and soon it was my time to order. i told the lady i would like some bologna. she asked "which kind" to which i just pointed to one, and then "how much?"... **crickets** for some reason, i didn't think about how much, and i couldn't recall how much TheMom got at one time, so after a panicked few seconds, i said "5 pounds, please". the lady looked at my a bit strangely, and asked if i was sure. i told her "yes, it's for the week," and she went to it. i was kinda not really paying attention as she cut it, until TheGirlfriend(AtTheTime) rounded the corner, eyes wide, seeing the massive tower of bologna that the lady was stacking up on the counter. it was maybe 12" tall (though, if you can't tell, i wasn't the greatest at scale back then). TheGirlfriend(AtTheTime) ran down the aisle, chuckling the whole way trying to get the lady's attention to tell her that was enough meat. i may have imagined it, but i think TheGirlfriend(AtTheTime) and the lunchmeat lady's eyes met, and together they silently thought... "DUMB BOYS!"

do you really care?

it is commonplace for people to ask "how are you?" when seeing someone for the first time in the day. i don't quite like that. i mean, seriously, do you really care? at one time, many, many moons ago, it was probably used as it was supposed to, but now it's turned into a generic greeting that makes me feel uncomfortable. i prefer "what's up" or "what's going on?". with the former, you can deflect the inanity of the question with a smart-ass reply like "the price of oil", "NOT the market", or the old standby, "the sky". with the latter, you have far more topics to speak about: work, family, money, etc.

i speak of this because here in egypt, EVERYONE asks "how are you" (in arabic, of course), and they ask it EVERYTIME they see you. all of you who read this blog know that i'm not doing well. these people don't really care how i'm doing, it's just a common courtesy to ask, but it wears me down having to lie. i might not be thinking about the shitty things that are going on in my life, i might be truly distracted, but when they ask... it all comes flooding back, and i have to then lie. "i'm doing great", "meyya, meyya" (means 100%).

i'm kind of the happy-go-lucky guy at work. i don't raise my voice, i don't complain much, i curse on occasion if i knock my head on a scaffolding pole or something, but in general, everyone knows me to be in a good mood. with this whole shitty situation, i've had to start wearing masks. some days i might be in a piss poor mood, but someone will eventually come up to me, asking me how i am, and i have to throw on the smile, tell them everything's fine, what do they need. it's exhausting. when no one's looking, when no one's around, i can let the mask fade away, but that isn't very often at work. it's strictly an external facade, i still feel like shite inside. some days i'm at it so long, that i can't take it off even when i go home. i can't embrace my issues because i've been faking all day that everything is OK. they really don't want to hear about my shite. they wouldn't understand, and even if they did, they'd probably think less of me. i couldn't tell them the truth anyways; my throat closes when i even remotely think of having to explain what's going on in my heart and in my head. i want someone to talk to, someone strong enough to know that my flaws only compound this situation, and i'm pretty sure they are hard-wired flaws. there's no changing them no matter how much i want to.

TheElectrical advised that i see a therapist (as well as cutting down on drinking, pity smoking, and i should lose weight, but i digress). i suppose it might not be a BAD idea, but again, there are several genetic predispositions i have against that course of action.

1. i think i'm smarter than them - i minored in psychology in school, i took enough classes to have a decent idea what the fukk is wrong with me. granted, i didn't take the "how do you fix it" classes, but i have a general idea of what they would suggest, i suggest it to myself, my friends suggest it to me, but i'm just closed. it's not like i can't see the door, rather, my hand is on the knob, and i just can't turn it. i had a bad experience with a high school psychologist during a break up then. i'd pierced the bridge of my nose with a safety pin, left it in, and went to school. i was kicked out of just about every class, and the psychologist was called in. she said she knew i was an actor (yes, i joined thespians for my girlfriend at the time), that i might be able to put on a good show, but she felt i was like an orange... hard skin on the outside but juicy just underneath that skin. i'm not making this up. right then and there, i labeled her a joke as a professional, figured she was bottom of her class, and wrote her off. i wasn't impressed. i'm sure there HAS to be better therapists out there, but my first impression left a bad taste in my mouth


2. i broke me, so i can fix me - well, technically, I didn't break me, but i put myself into a position that allowed me to let down my guard to be broken. i've been witness to every little psycho synapse firing in my head, i've felt every heart pang for the most unrelated, benign reasons, it's all documented here in my head in my own proprietary format. there's no way i could explain it coherently to someone outside my head. they don't have the right codecs (i'm such a geek). i need time to analyze the data, but i've not had time to arrange it into an easy, user-friendly format. looking at the raw data, right now, it seems it isn't the product that is flawed (again this is preliminary), it's the process. i think i'm pretty damn good at relationships on the whole. everyone has their shortcomings and such, but in general, i think i have a pretty good handle on how things should go. the process is fukked in that, i just spend that time on the wrong people. i'm blinded by attention, by beauty, by learning about new things from new people, by the excitement of this amazing new person who wants to spend time with me. in doing so i might be missing telltale signs that we may not be compatible. i miss the hints, i miss the suggestions.


3. strangers vs. friends - this guy is a complete stranger. how am i going to open up to him, when i have a hard time opening up to my close friends? i was always the guy who listened to other peoples' problems, the shoulder to cry on. i didn't want to burden them with my problems because mine were so insignificant in comparison, so i tried my best to keep quiet. telling a stranger how crazy i am? come on. therapists are only human. they're trained to be non-judgemental, but we are animals. there will always be a judgment made, an impression formed, even if it's in the remotest hollow of the basal ganglia, i'll be judged. my friends know my good and bad already, they already know that and yet, they're still my friends. they accept my idiosyncracies, or at the very least, they aren't threatened by them. they aren't judging me, they already did that years ago, for free, they STILL stuck around, even if only to see what the fukk this guy is going to do next. these are people i love, i trust, and i still have a hard time letting them know exactly how messed up i am. a stranger who has to learn all my background plus current problems in several 60-minute sessions... i don't know if i'd trust their evaluation for lack of thoroughness.


4. i'm just too damn proud - there's not much more that can be added to that. i don't want to be fukked up, i don't want to admit that i can't deal with this on my own. i'm not into holistic medicine, i know my boundaries (i think). if i have cancer or a broken arm or a bullet wound... know i can't fix those, but my brain (unless i'm more fukked up that i though) is not injured. it may be chemically imbalanced or dehydrated, but it's not like something is there that shouldn't be. if there is no physical defect, i think i should be able to manage it myself. mind over matter (except in the case of the aforementioned bullets and such).

you know what i just realized? i'm a hypocrite. you didn't even ask me how i was doing, you mightn't even care, and yet i let you have it. i apologize. had i not ranted on about that in the first part of this post, this would be OK as it is my blog and you came here voluntarily. next time i'll give you warning.

i'm going to try to write more on ZUMEL(i put a short post up there today), really, and i'm going to really try to get some vacation pix and stories up for you soon. i give you my word, and that, my friend, is stronger than graphene. please someone corroborate that for me. hah. later kids.

we're not racist, we're just apathetic

i heard about something on on CNN.com that i just found ridiculous. you have to listen to it, i'd think, just to hear how some of the people sound. turner county high school, in ashburn, GA, had it's first "integrated" prom. yup, that's right, they waited until 2007 to let blacks and whites go to a dance together. *GASP* the horror. apparently, this is the first school-sponsored prom as well.

what i think it funny, is how some of the kids were rather apathetic about it, but they were talking about it being "tradition" to be segregated. that, to me, sounds like one of the dumbest excuses ever. well, we've been lynching blacks since the 50's, why stop now, it's tradition. granted, that is an extreme form of hyperbole, but this racism is bred into them disguised as "tradition".

then, with 2:42 left in the slideshow (just so you catch it), one girl stated brilliantly (and i paraphrase), the whites had their prom, the blacks had their prom, it was no big deal, it wasn't racial. i paraphrasically repeat, IT WASN'T RACIAL. wtf are these kids taught about racism. when blacks and whites aren't allowed to eat together, that's racism; drink at the same water-fountain, that's racism; go to the same school, that's racism...

...but when it's just a racially-segregated dance, that's just good ol' southern "tradition".

self-elected unofficial pseudo high school mascots

again while cleaning the basement, i found some pix from back in the high school days. a buddy (TheSBM) and i hung out during football games goofing off. our school had cheerleaders who cheer as most cheerleaders do, but don't necessarily lead as most cheerleaders don't. we should call them cheerers or something. either way, since we are the big reds, our high school also had an indian mascot. the mascot was, if i recall correctly, one of the best people who tried out for cheering but didn't make the cut. i might be wrong there though. the mascot wore a big brown indian outfit and a big racially-insensitive indian head with the veteran alcoholic's red-nose included. she didn't mascot much back then. she'd walk around flirting with boys and hanging out with the cheerleaders in between cheers.

TheSBM and i were at, i think, the homecoming game, sitting in the rain where the visiting teams band usually sits, but they weren't there for some reason. we were YELLING across the field to OUR home band to play certain songs. sometimes they did, sometimes they didn't. when they played, we'd dance like fools trying to choreograph and stay in sync on the fly. it was goofy. but later that week someone suggested we become the unofficial mascots... so we did. our parents made up some quick suits for us and we put on different warpaint every game and became the unofficial mascots. it was a good time, be it in the rain or good weather, actually interacting with the crowd and having a blast. we even completed the first (to our knowledge) "wave" in nelson field during the home win against our rival, martins ferry.

here are some pix i found of those days:

excited our team is going for an undefeated regular season

FINALLY allowed on the sidelines for the last game of the regular season against martins ferry (we won, 10-0 season)

TheSBM driving, me on the roof, it was FREEZING, but we were undefeated. there was a picture VERY similar to this taken by a newspaper photographer saying something like "another big reds fan shows HER pride. JEEZ!!!