People come and people go.
My life is full of transgressions, caused by lofty rules of which I can never fully abide. These rules have made me the man I am today. I fear, daily, I may become a narcissist through omission.
One could argue it is more than self-governed rules that I choose not to celebrate my birthday, keeping the date off calendars and changing the subject when asked. The truth is I would rather celebrate people. Using my birthdate as a cultural juncture, one in which people are apt and often classically conditioned to celebrate, every year I schedule a series of events. These events are used as a celebration in people. It is my belief that joining people together, even under the guise of a birthday, is one of the most important things for our society.
My lifestyle is always burdened with the possibility of relocation. In my last 10 years, I have taken residence in five different cities. I understand new relationships, retaining old friends, missing family, burning bridges, and avoiding love. Goodbyes are still so very, very hard. Throughout all of this, and more to come, I always want to celebrate people. I want to thank all of the people who celebrated these last four days with me, even those who were unable to, or non-responsive to my invites. I appreciate it all. Every year it reaffirms my belief that life relationships can be modeled from social events.
People will be there, even if they are not necessarily your first choice. People will want to be there, but life keeps them away. People will forget you, whether happily or accidental. You will meet new people. People will leave too early and stay too late.
People will come and people will go.
The last four times I’ve gone to a bar by myself I have had the full attention of a single older man. Let me just put out there that I sincerely doubt it’s because I represent any sort of dating/sexual prospect for these gentleman. Now that we got that out of they way, I want to say thank you to Guillaume, Pat, Chris, and Gil. You’re all great, albeit lonely, dudes. Thanks for the advice, info on Montreal, and bacon. All interactions have been supremely positive, until we’ve parted ways. My head starts reeling, what am I doing wrong? Am I going to be lonely when I’m 45, 55, 65? How do I prevent this? Ugh…from here on out I’ll try to focus on the waitresses.
No I won’t.
Here’s the thing, I don’t believe on picking up girls at bars. Other than my belief that an establishment that serves mind altering substances is not an ideal place to meet new people, I could give a shit less that you got all dolled up to come to a place called the Pumphouse. I don’t care about you or you’re cardigan and I’m sure as hell not buying you a vodka Red Bull.
Fact: I’ve never bought a female, who I didn’t know previously, a drink at a bar.
I’m pretty proud of that. You don’t deserve it, ladies. Although that Cardigan does look decent on you.
Getting back to the four old men. They all wondered why I didn’t have a “lady.” I took their comments as a compliment, but none of them resembled the love child of a NFL Tight End and Founding Member of a Northern California Biker Gang like I do. I simply had to explain to them that people in general, let alone women at bars, are put off with my mere presence. It’s funny how they completely got what I was saying. It’s sad but true.
Oh and another thing, I don’t hit on waitresses or bartenders. They are working, it’s just not right, slick. Yeah I’m calling YOU slick now. Also, don’t whistle at the bartender. At least in my presence.
I’ve been working diligently the last couple of years to get rid of excuses in my life. A feat easier said than done. Interestingly enough, I’ve found that by eliminating excuses (lies) that it makes a person more (in my case often brutally) honest. Which can have a much much worse effect than giving an excuse. Perhaps honesty isn’t always the best policy.
Boss: Jack, Why were you late?
Jack: I got obliterated at my little sisters sweet sixteen and when I woke up I couldn’t find my pants.
The excuses that I truly hate are not ones that involve a story, no matter how big or small, but ones which places an individuals mere existence on this planet as the testimony to their failure. You know what I’m talking about: You’re only human. Just typing the phrase makes me want to lash out in anger. It is useless, What else could you possibly be? Is there a scenario where advanced beings also forget to replace the coffee filter? I obviously expect less from beings further down the food chain, so a scenario like this would seem more fitting:
Boss: Jane, why didn’t you replace the toner or relay those phone messages to Tim?
Jane: It was out? I didn’t even notice. I completely forgot about the messages!
Boss: Jane, you’re acting like a real Swamp Monkey today. Why can’t you be more dolphin like Tim. At least then we could get some work done around here.
I mean if your Secretary, excuse me Administrative Assistant gets caught taking an extra long lunch, forgets to pick up your dry cleaning, or doesn’t buzz you for that meeting (Am I channeling Don Draper?) you should be allowed to call her/him something from a different chordata (or same, makes no difference to me). But no, in this our society we get to throw out the end all be all of non sequiturs and all is forgiven.
We should make “You’re so Dolphin Right Now” happen. Or…or “Hail to the Dolph-Zen Master”
Tim after dominating some spreadsheets
Color me tickled pink when I saw the wordpress notification telling me I had one subscriber. Who could this completely heroic/tragic person be? Turns out it was me, thus I literally subscribe to my own bullshit. #winning. Is that still trending? No? #losing.
I’m a huge proponent of humility and personal integrity, and because of which I don’t believe a person truly has the right to give themselves an abstract identifier (e.g. smart, handsome, funny, loyal, etc…), which can make job interviews especially challenging/awkward. I was once asked by an interview to describe myself in three words I chose 1) Tall, 2) Contemporaneous , and 3) Utilitarian. Call me crazy, and only you can, but that’s how I feel.
Crazy (Seal Cover) By Yeasayer
I am not friends with women. That’s a bit succinct but you’ll catch on. I define friendship as a person you share a history with, one you’ve known and interacted with for a signifiant period of time. Friends are not a people whom you interact with one-dimensionally. Your favorite bartender is not your friend. Your Hairstylist is not your friend. Facebook and Twitter don’t make us friends, though we communicate in a amiable manner. Get it? Friendship is a word that has unfortunately adopted an all encompassing definition for the people in your life sans family. My softball teammates are not my friends, they are friendly people who I play with softball on mondays. Co-Workers are people I work with, not necessarily friends. Now any two people can grow into friends, but it takes more than a shared hobby or common workplace.
I have only one friend in my life right now who is female, single, and isn’t homosexual or restricted by strict religious rules/codes (what-have-you). Lets call her Melody. Hi Melody! So as soon as Melody or I starts dating someone else, communication halts, numbers are deleted, etc… Its is purely out of respect for her decision or the woman whom I’m lucky enough to date. This isn’t some kind of When Harry Met Sally mantra, but a real-life, true tested hypothesis. Now I do have female friends who are taken, but they are either Married, dating or related to (sister of) one of my good friends, homosexual, or guided by their religion. Those are boundaries that I do not dare to cross. I trust in the sanctity of marriage however i’m leery of those who don’t, so more often than not I bid them good luck and goodbye. This has nothing to do with the women I’ve dated and our relationship after we break it off (not existent). That’s another story entirely.
The Friend Zone, like the Twilight Zone but much much worse.
Growing up I wasn’t very in tune or aware of the fairer sex. As an almost permanent fixture of the “Friend Zone” I’m not pointing the finger at my upbringing or my 11 years of parochial school, but I’m pretty sure this is where my attitude towards female friendships stems. I developed this doctrine (if you will) learning long ago that the quality of my life would be vastly improved if I avoided friendships with women. To reiterate not co-workers, bartenders, hair stylists, etc… but true friendships. If nothing else, my unorthodox methods does three things: 1) Allows me to be perfectly forthright to any new women in my life 2) Gives more direction to those women who have a hard time deciding what they want 3) it doesn’t delay the inevitable. Trust me I’ve had my share of late night drunk text messages inquiring “why do you hate me?” or “why are you such an asshole?” Truth is I don’t and I’m not. I take those alcohol infused comments in stride, you see its more often than not that they choose not to date me then vice versa. People, especially women in their early twenties, want to have their cake and eat it too. Its alway nice to deny that from time to time. Keeps ’em honest (and possibly angry).
-And yes, there is a flow chart.
Its becoming so that I have to get pumped up just to apply for a job. Must put on some classic rock (Dio) and do a little pre-typing stretch, a personal pep talk and then I’m ready.
Maricopa Community Colleges (Arizona) is looking for a Student Services Technician….quite an odd title. I’m not quite sure why they are using this title, but I do know they use the word “Technical” twice in the posting. (Student Services Technician Opening)
Is this just a mashup of two other jobs? What other random jobs can we pullout of thin air? I like Information Technology Janitor.
Can someone shed some light?
Post a comment or catch me on twitter @rjbrenn