I'm also evil, and also into cats

So. Today was sort of uneventful in that 'ten thousand things happened but it didn't make a lick of difference' way. Everyone at work is sick, everything at work is different... probably because I haven't been there in like two weeks. That's the funny thing about work and life, too. No matter how long you're there or what kind of tenure you've aquired over time it can be ripped out from under you, kind of like a carpet you've grown a little too accustomed to sitting upon, and you're on your ass. I'm sure they invented tenure as some kind of way to have job security even though there's no honest security for anything in life. I feel like I'm being negative. I probably am, at least a little bit. Then again it's the truth so why bother trying to cover it up? I like honesty. I also like covering things up and false security. That's definitely in the top ten things everyone likes, though. What's better than having a secure feeling? Nothing, really.

Actually, strike that. Music's pretty cool that way. I haven't had a song hit me like a brick in quite some time though, and it's a shame. I think I have a lot of pent up aggression with the music business. I hate how 'things' like Fall Out Boy (Okay I admit it, 'Arms Race' is a little addictive but nothing more than that...) can have these ginourmous fanbases of screaming, hairgelled, and flying bat tattooed twelve year olds moshing during circle time and make a fucking killing.

And then I'm wondering... it's got to be about the image. Sure, you dig how it sounds because you care too little to really understand the music, or it could be even deeper than that -- it doesn't matter if you understand the music as long as you can consume it, or are willing to consume it. It's all about consumerist bullshit, I'm convinced. Consumerism is the new gospel of the modern age. And God said; "if you can sell it, then let it be sold." Ever since I started working in retail I've discovered my new hatred for consumerism. If you don't have a Louis Vuitton, or you're not wearing the newest YSL accessory, or God forbid you shop at Target... you might as well kill yourself. Sure it's harsh words but what tree-hugging hippy have you met that doesn't own a pair of Birkenstocks just because they're hippy garb? Finding something to identify with is a huge part of it. We all want someone, or a group of someone's, to identify with and some of us are so desperate for it that we forget ourselves. But why?

Pack mentality? I think it's getting worse. It's the only concept that makes sense because if the Crypts and the Bloods are fighting on Main, there's some kind of universal pack mentality going very, very wrong. I don't really get the point of that either. To me, gangs are just a way of finding some kind of family to cling to when your own isn't enough. People like security, and they love finding security in each other no matter what the cost. It's a shame. We're all so afraid of being alone. Think about it, how small do you feel when you read that? We are, though, more afraid of being alone than we are of being with the wrong crowd. Frankly it freaks me out that we're so willing to have companionship that we'd do anything, even murder, for just a bit of it. But hey, who am I to judge. I guess if it makes you happy or at least makes you think you're happy it's fine. Just don't hurt other people. That part I do wish I could get out there. It's really selfish to think that you can go out and have your gang wars in a neighborhood that doesn't even really belong to you. Regular citizens out number the hell out of you, so what are you trying to be so tough for? I wish they'd give up. I wish a lot of people would give up. But yet again, I've got no right to speak because I'm sure I do some things people hate.

... Like make fun of Fall Out Boy.

I love you more than I know how to say

You know, sometimes I get to thinking. Now this can be one of those knock-your-head-on-the-ground-and-ask-God-why-in-the-name-of-everything-good-(or evil)-you-had-one-of-these-occurances types of situations... but we'll see how it goes since I keep losing track of my thoughts the second they hop out of my fingers. Or mouth. Fingermouthes. See, jelly brains.

I think I need to tell more people I love them. I've never been one to abuse those words and I rarely say them because they sort of intimidate me... unless of course we're not face to face, then I'll throw them around with you like wildfire, at least in some cases. I also have yet to figure out who this 'you' is that I'm speaking with. This could get interesting. You could be anyone. It could be, well... you, or youtube, or your mother, or even your dog if I loved it enough. (I have loved a couple of dogs in my time and I tend to like them slightly more than people even though I hate my own sometimes. Dogs, not people.) Again, wasted type on something I can't pin down.

I love you.

But do I? Am I just saying it because I think I should and that it might have some kind of impact on someone's life if I do say it? Perhaps. I'd like to test that theory though. I've always wanted to be one of those crazies who buys a grandma sweater, goes out into the park, and starts telling people they love them just to see what kind of reaction they'd get. Sure, some of them would be completely appauled, others (most likely of the teenage breed) would laugh because they're just about as uncomfortable with those words as I am. But again, are you laughing because you're uncomfortable or are you laughing because you wished someone meant it? The tables turn again. I laugh because I'm uncomfortable most of the time. I like laughing, and I like making people laugh... so why shouldn't I dig on making people feel loved? Oh yeah... I forgot that part again, love's scary.

... But is it really?

I don't even know if people are emotionally equipped to say those words in this day and age. Hopefully some of us out there, with a little more guts and bravado than the rest of us, can say it and mean it. It'd be nice to be one of those people one day. Sadly (or happily) enough, I think I could be if I'd stop being afraid of other people's fear. That's what it is you know. We're terrified of other people's terrors more than we're afraid of our own. Kinda like horror movies. Some people are like 'Dude, did you see that movie? I haven't slept without a light on for the last month and a half,' while another will completely blow the flick off and call it nothing more than a knife handle (a.k.a. pointless). So... are you more afraid of letting yourself say the 'I love you,' or that the 'I love you' will be heard by someone who's way more afraid of it than you are? I'm not sure that question has an answer.

But I love you. That much I know.

Cinnamon Apple Tea, if you're asking

Alright. Since this thing is pretty new, I figured I'd break it in with a series of random Topic-A-Day posts, or maybe even bits of useless (and awesome) information about my life, kinda like Sarah Morrison only... obviously less awesome.

So, to start it all off... I've got a creepily vivid memory for things I don't need to remember. But important dates, kinda like Birthdays, Anniversaries, or anything that doesn't have to do with 90s music or what kind of tea I drank last week -- total darkness. I always wondered if it were a selective memory problem. My parents liked to tell me that it was, especially when it came to Math homework.

Because Math is evil.

It is. It revolves around numbers and theories that make no sense in my brain no matter how many times I rehearse them. I've gone through a lot of Math teachers and just one tutor. Nick was my Math tutor for a really long time, and the only person who could ever teach me a quadratic equation. That's big shit. Have you ever tried one of those? I don't think I have in a couple of years... but I bet if you put it down in front of me right now I'd know exactly what it was.

I guess that's kinda like High School. It's been a little over four years since I've been there and today Melissa's going back there for some kooky college class about educating geniuses, or something like that. I never was one so I wouldn't know. But I do know that the big thing to do was sneak off to Wendy's for a frosty at lunch time. It's still kind of funny to me... there was this whole backwoods underground railroad to get there, and this giant rig they had set up for those project adventure classes in gym. It was all spraypainted and disgusting, probably rusty too, but I didn't go to a rich High School so I can't complain. It could've been worse.

I'm glad I'm old enough to say no to things like Project Adventure and Math. They sucked. ... A lot. But I guess it also teaches you that sometimes you have to do things you don't want to do, no matter how much you hate it or kick your feet. And usually in these situations there's some kind of bit about always having someone to catch you. I'm not sure I can really believe that last part yet, about the catching. People slip up a lot.

People are also really, really good to each other deep down inside. Which is why I look for nothing more than disingenuous people with good intentions and warm hearts. No matter what kind of skeezebag asshole they seem to be, they've probably got friends somewhere that respect them for the skeezebag asshole they are.

So in the end... love each other and study more Math. At least you'll be able to count change when you hit up Starbucks.