I'm currently sitting in my new apartment adorned with boxes stifled with an assortment of junk. I know I have to face these things and unpack them and compartmentalize most of these things in some form of order and throw out the rest, but I can't bring myself to do it. At least not yet. Call it laziness which it most likely is, but I saw it asn an interesting metaphor (yes, this is one of THOSE blogs).
As a writer there's a lot of junk up in my head that hasn't been unpacked yet. It's been here for a few days, for a few moments, for many years. Ideas that haven't been fully formed yet or fully transferred onto the page, to serve as a means of actually DOING something. I think this is true for everyone. We all have our own junk, our own issues, our own obsessions that we just sort of box up for the time being, to unpack later on in life. The more we box things up, the tighter our space gets and the less comfortable we become, unable to move as freely as we once were.
The process of unpacking these thoughts, of giving light to a lot of the clutter we chose not to face for the longest time isn't the most fun of experiences. Most times there are good reasons for boxing up the clutter, reasons that we don't want to have to acknowledge but that exist nonetheless.
The more my apartment becomes furnished and in a sense evolves into a more idealized state, the more I think about the boxes, still sitting there in the corner of my apartment, building dust. I get transfixed on how nice the apartment is becoming WITHOUT those things, how a lot of my "valuables" there are negligible, how I really don't want to deal with all that junk that I collected at the old apartment. I think of throwing them out, living off of what already is in here.
But then I realize that that isn't necessarily true. I take comfort in those boxes, of knowing that if I ever one day will need something from my old apartment, from my old life, they will always be there. As long as I don't touch them or move them elsewhere; as long as I don't open them to really look inside. At least not yet. Not until I really NEED to. There's a comfort there.
That comfort though is a bit superficial. It only represses the needs we all need to acknowledge, the fears we all have to face. We can look at how nice things may look right now around us, or how terrible they are in front of us, but these things will always be with us unless we unpack them, compartmentalize them. Open up their boxes and allow them to be free to be stored and used or trashed in ways that free up more space, so we don't carry so much weight in our day.
This would liberate ourselves into making a more realized life, one that can balance the idealized perspective with reality; a counter-weight for our dreams to keep us grounded.
Sunday, July 25, 2010
Sunday, July 11, 2010
American
This post is overdue by quite a few days. Inspired from a radio interview I heard conducted with Richard Wright on the Fourth of July, he was asked what he thought made up his American identity. I thought about the question and applied it to my own life and decided I should type up something about it. This, as of now, is the end of my procrastination to that question.
I view my American identity as a product of growing up in a family that had it hard to begin with but were able to rise above the obstacles presented to them by life. There were struggles for my parents that they were able to move beyond by following a rigid work ethic that was instilled in me and my siblings from a very young age. With these ethics came a sense of manners and right and wrong. We were raised in a Christian household which provided the foundation for the values that I would later on adapt for myself. My parents were able to work in successful jobs that provided well for the family as a whole, and I was lucky enough to have parents as supportive as them so that I could go to college to pursue my passion.
Through the times of my life where I have needed help or have lost my way, they were always there to provide support and to help ensure that I don't necessarily have to face the same problems they did head-on. It is this sense of continued empowerment that has affected me in trying to pass that support on to my friends and family.
Whenever I envision the idea of an American, I don't see it defined by a race or a certain religion. I don't see minorities or majorities or outcasts. What I see is an individual pushing up against the ways of the past so that they can create a brighter future. I see people who are struggling every day, some harder than others for the same goal. The focus for these struggles are embedded in the sands of tomorrow.
I view my American identity as a product of growing up in a family that had it hard to begin with but were able to rise above the obstacles presented to them by life. There were struggles for my parents that they were able to move beyond by following a rigid work ethic that was instilled in me and my siblings from a very young age. With these ethics came a sense of manners and right and wrong. We were raised in a Christian household which provided the foundation for the values that I would later on adapt for myself. My parents were able to work in successful jobs that provided well for the family as a whole, and I was lucky enough to have parents as supportive as them so that I could go to college to pursue my passion.
Through the times of my life where I have needed help or have lost my way, they were always there to provide support and to help ensure that I don't necessarily have to face the same problems they did head-on. It is this sense of continued empowerment that has affected me in trying to pass that support on to my friends and family.
Whenever I envision the idea of an American, I don't see it defined by a race or a certain religion. I don't see minorities or majorities or outcasts. What I see is an individual pushing up against the ways of the past so that they can create a brighter future. I see people who are struggling every day, some harder than others for the same goal. The focus for these struggles are embedded in the sands of tomorrow.
Wednesday, June 16, 2010
Work Work Work
I've worked double shifts the past few days and I feel it's safe to say I feel my life drifting softly into obscurity. The restaurant I worked at to provide for my weekly living while juggling school and family is now the restaurant I depend upon for my life of working. And it's not working out so well.
About to move into an apartment that may very well bleed me dry over the next year, thoughts and feelings of pessimism fill my head. Nothing unusual about that since I am quite the embittered optimist, but still there is that feeling of pervaded uselessness about my preceding years. It's a rough time in the economy right now but I don't want to blame that. I feel that I have the utilities and resources at my disposal to really make something of myself, to slam the handbrake on the course I've been sailing on and tear the wheel into the direction I want to be driving in.
Other graduate friends of mine are quite pessimistic as well and their stories make my job at the restaurant feel at least reassuring; i may be barely scraping by but at least I'm moving in a direction, though one I don't want to be dedicated towards for all eternity.
A few coworkers of mine have landed full-time jobs. Some are younger than me. Granted, they had a clearer view of the professional aspects of life that they wanted to pursue. My course was followed after encouragement from my family to follow my dream. I did and had one helluva time in school. Now that the dream is over I can't get paid to follow it.
I have tasted the "good" life, at least a life that I longed for and can see maturing into a full-time freelance gig, but I think I've already burned those bridges by placing my full-time job in place of the opportunistic one (it just doesn't pay to be a 'nice' guy haha).
People often ask what I'm doing with myself now that I've graduated. I tell them that I'm still working at the restaurant, but besides for that I've been looking for jobs in writing, publishing and film. Perhaps that's too vague. My goal is to become a novel writer (though not necessarily a novel writer *haughty laugh) and to also write a few screenplays. Film is one of the most expressive and widely distributed forms of entertainment and I'd love to give something back to the medium that has inspired me the most.
I dream of turning in my 2 weeks notice and setting sail on a journey of uncertainty, but reality always rears its ugly head. I need to live. I need to pay to live. I need money, money that I get from my job. It's a vicious circle. I write in my free time and I'm reading more than I had been, all for a glimmer of hope that one day I'll be able to create something meaningful to others.
Until I make the adjustments and the maneuvers towards my goal then I guess I'll still be in the same rut I've felt myself in for the past few months. My adviser told me to not stop writing under penalty of torture, which was good. I haven't stopped, nor do I plan on.
I still can't escape the feelings of, not regret since I don't truly regret anything, but perhaps a change of tact over my education. Had I studied a more professional-based field, something that had a higher chance of employment out of school I could then focus more on my writing, using that as my launching pad into the creative markets while not having to worry about money or, in times of desperation, direction.
I know it's useless to discuss "could have been" scenarios and that's why I'm stopping that now. I'm glad overall that things have led to where they are. My work ethic is one of the strongest assets I have along with my dedication and good nature. These are things people recognize the most about my work and without the years given to my line of work over the years, I'd be someone completely different now. That said, I'm pulling up an outline for the next piece I'm writing. This one's going to a contest. Seeing the rest of my life ahead of me, now seems like the perfect time to start breaking down walls.
About to move into an apartment that may very well bleed me dry over the next year, thoughts and feelings of pessimism fill my head. Nothing unusual about that since I am quite the embittered optimist, but still there is that feeling of pervaded uselessness about my preceding years. It's a rough time in the economy right now but I don't want to blame that. I feel that I have the utilities and resources at my disposal to really make something of myself, to slam the handbrake on the course I've been sailing on and tear the wheel into the direction I want to be driving in.
Other graduate friends of mine are quite pessimistic as well and their stories make my job at the restaurant feel at least reassuring; i may be barely scraping by but at least I'm moving in a direction, though one I don't want to be dedicated towards for all eternity.
A few coworkers of mine have landed full-time jobs. Some are younger than me. Granted, they had a clearer view of the professional aspects of life that they wanted to pursue. My course was followed after encouragement from my family to follow my dream. I did and had one helluva time in school. Now that the dream is over I can't get paid to follow it.
I have tasted the "good" life, at least a life that I longed for and can see maturing into a full-time freelance gig, but I think I've already burned those bridges by placing my full-time job in place of the opportunistic one (it just doesn't pay to be a 'nice' guy haha).
People often ask what I'm doing with myself now that I've graduated. I tell them that I'm still working at the restaurant, but besides for that I've been looking for jobs in writing, publishing and film. Perhaps that's too vague. My goal is to become a novel writer (though not necessarily a novel writer *haughty laugh) and to also write a few screenplays. Film is one of the most expressive and widely distributed forms of entertainment and I'd love to give something back to the medium that has inspired me the most.
I dream of turning in my 2 weeks notice and setting sail on a journey of uncertainty, but reality always rears its ugly head. I need to live. I need to pay to live. I need money, money that I get from my job. It's a vicious circle. I write in my free time and I'm reading more than I had been, all for a glimmer of hope that one day I'll be able to create something meaningful to others.
Until I make the adjustments and the maneuvers towards my goal then I guess I'll still be in the same rut I've felt myself in for the past few months. My adviser told me to not stop writing under penalty of torture, which was good. I haven't stopped, nor do I plan on.
I still can't escape the feelings of, not regret since I don't truly regret anything, but perhaps a change of tact over my education. Had I studied a more professional-based field, something that had a higher chance of employment out of school I could then focus more on my writing, using that as my launching pad into the creative markets while not having to worry about money or, in times of desperation, direction.
I know it's useless to discuss "could have been" scenarios and that's why I'm stopping that now. I'm glad overall that things have led to where they are. My work ethic is one of the strongest assets I have along with my dedication and good nature. These are things people recognize the most about my work and without the years given to my line of work over the years, I'd be someone completely different now. That said, I'm pulling up an outline for the next piece I'm writing. This one's going to a contest. Seeing the rest of my life ahead of me, now seems like the perfect time to start breaking down walls.
Monday, June 14, 2010
Following
Why is it whenever you decide to "follow" another person's blog then they give you the option to "follow publicly" or "follow privately". Really folks? What difference does it matter if I follow publicly or privately? It's not like anyone's going to really care anyways. But alas, I've gotten ahead of myself.
I suppose we can't ruin some of the surprise whenever our ex's or people we used to be friends with but now passionately despise with a smile on our faces decide to follow that person just so that our own sense of fetishistic needs can be satiated through being unseen while reading their own private ramblings.
Which leads me to this: I think social networking sights should begin jumping to its own conclusions (even more so than it already does). Thanks for telling me that I haven't spoken to my ex girlfriend in seven years and that "Maybe I should reconnect with her". How thoughtful of you. Luckily facebook has the pleasure of not knowing the greed or jealousy that can palpitate a seemingly healthy relationship and reduce it into sniveling dribble.
Seriously though, how great would that be?
"Michael is obsessing over why Hannah left him" as it pops up on everyone in your friends list, because everyone decides that they want to actually follow your status updates that are ultimately decided upon by the machine.
"Susan is beginning to think she shouldn't have gotten so drunk last night..."
"Stephen got a new job but really hates it and thinks his boss is a douche."
As I go on I'm beginning to see why instantly my idea is flawed but hey, it'd make a great story. Imagine the conversations as they go beyond normal babble and into deep, character-driven dialogue.
"So you think I'm a douche?" Defend that one in a timely manner.
"What happened after you got drunk? Tell me you didn't (insert verb) with 'that guy' did you?"
Perhaps a deeper subject I'm reaching for here is that of identity. We have so many identities construed through so many mediums that for once I think it'd be awesome to see these all torn down and possibly used against ourselves.
With the internet, everything is possible to manipulate and fabricate (still waiting on my check from my distant cousin. He's a prince. People know him. He's kind of a big deal). People are able to create false identities of themselves and sell it as being the truth. This provides me with an unsolicited platform to just go blah blah blah and people (well, not yet. thank you to all of my 4 READERS) in a way where I can more freely express myself and not have to worry about being interrupted or cut off way too short, allowing me in my A.D.D. riddled mind to lose track of my ramblings and allow those thoughts to slip into the nothingness of time (hmm...sense a blog on existentialism popping up soon).
So to sum up this diatribe of more hypocritical bulloney I believe that the internet is in many ways supporting identity shifts and behaviors that are sort of scary. I made a joking reference to being able to follow whoever and be free to follow anonymously, but seriously: is that a good thing? If I have followers I think it'd only be fair to know who. This isn't meant to turn into some Orwell-ian 1984 babble but rather to say that why is it important to have the option to be obscure and unheard whenever (seemingly) fruitful relationships could spawn up over the course of interaction.
I'd much rather make friends with someone who openly said "Hey, you're shit and what you write is shit but at least you say shit and you know that i don't like your shit! " and have it come from someone with a discernible identity (that damned word again) as opposed to making friends with someone saying the same thing who wouldn't have an identity. That, or not having an identity before forcing themselves into the light to unload this terrible diatribe against all of my writings and then vanish into the invisible fabric of space.
It's much easier to come to terms with something that you know and can see and can feel as opposed to try to make amends with an intangible ideal that may be muttered with a ferocious power to destabilize someone's good intentions. That's all.
I suppose we can't ruin some of the surprise whenever our ex's or people we used to be friends with but now passionately despise with a smile on our faces decide to follow that person just so that our own sense of fetishistic needs can be satiated through being unseen while reading their own private ramblings.
Which leads me to this: I think social networking sights should begin jumping to its own conclusions (even more so than it already does). Thanks for telling me that I haven't spoken to my ex girlfriend in seven years and that "Maybe I should reconnect with her". How thoughtful of you. Luckily facebook has the pleasure of not knowing the greed or jealousy that can palpitate a seemingly healthy relationship and reduce it into sniveling dribble.
Seriously though, how great would that be?
"Michael is obsessing over why Hannah left him" as it pops up on everyone in your friends list, because everyone decides that they want to actually follow your status updates that are ultimately decided upon by the machine.
"Susan is beginning to think she shouldn't have gotten so drunk last night..."
"Stephen got a new job but really hates it and thinks his boss is a douche."
As I go on I'm beginning to see why instantly my idea is flawed but hey, it'd make a great story. Imagine the conversations as they go beyond normal babble and into deep, character-driven dialogue.
"So you think I'm a douche?" Defend that one in a timely manner.
"What happened after you got drunk? Tell me you didn't (insert verb) with 'that guy' did you?"
Perhaps a deeper subject I'm reaching for here is that of identity. We have so many identities construed through so many mediums that for once I think it'd be awesome to see these all torn down and possibly used against ourselves.
With the internet, everything is possible to manipulate and fabricate (still waiting on my check from my distant cousin. He's a prince. People know him. He's kind of a big deal). People are able to create false identities of themselves and sell it as being the truth. This provides me with an unsolicited platform to just go blah blah blah and people (well, not yet. thank you to all of my 4 READERS) in a way where I can more freely express myself and not have to worry about being interrupted or cut off way too short, allowing me in my A.D.D. riddled mind to lose track of my ramblings and allow those thoughts to slip into the nothingness of time (hmm...sense a blog on existentialism popping up soon).
So to sum up this diatribe of more hypocritical bulloney I believe that the internet is in many ways supporting identity shifts and behaviors that are sort of scary. I made a joking reference to being able to follow whoever and be free to follow anonymously, but seriously: is that a good thing? If I have followers I think it'd only be fair to know who. This isn't meant to turn into some Orwell-ian 1984 babble but rather to say that why is it important to have the option to be obscure and unheard whenever (seemingly) fruitful relationships could spawn up over the course of interaction.
I'd much rather make friends with someone who openly said "Hey, you're shit and what you write is shit but at least you say shit and you know that i don't like your shit! " and have it come from someone with a discernible identity (that damned word again) as opposed to making friends with someone saying the same thing who wouldn't have an identity. That, or not having an identity before forcing themselves into the light to unload this terrible diatribe against all of my writings and then vanish into the invisible fabric of space.
It's much easier to come to terms with something that you know and can see and can feel as opposed to try to make amends with an intangible ideal that may be muttered with a ferocious power to destabilize someone's good intentions. That's all.
Leviathan
What's got two thumbs and just learned to ignore pop-up blurbs about Meta codes? This Guy! Below is my original selection I chose to post for the viewing masses (is it a mass if 0 people read it? I contend that it is not. Moving on). Here it is, a preview of my short story, Leviathan.
Fire engulfed a cloud that was floating in the air. Some people screamed and shifted their cars into gear. The blaze was short lived. The moisture killed it in the air. Engines were revving. More horn noises and suddenly a car went flying against traffic, dissecting the grass in the median. The first car was followed by another. Then another. The panic-stricken couple just sat, comatose in their vehicle.
The blackness in the sky swallowed the clouds and burst through them at an alarmingly fast speed. Their windshield was taken up by the image of this massive structure falling from the sky. Cars crumpled and crunched under the weight of the black mass, now leaving traces of a gray sky shredded against a sea of blue above it.
“Jake, we have to go.” Jake shifted his car into gear. He pulled backwards and cut the wheel to the left but the traffic that built itself behind him didn’t give him enough room to work with. He pulled his car closer to the median and killed the brakes. The cars fighting against traffic slipped and slid through the median, now a mud pit.
The trees in the distance were shaking, the leaves falling out in clumps, as if by being thrust towards the ground. The lightening shot out once more, this time into the black mass. A blinding white light shot out across the plain and the deafening sound of hundreds of car windows erupting at once filled the sky. Jacob and Rose grabbed their ears, drunk from the pressure.
Jacob felt death approaching closer. He wasn’t ready for his time to be over. “Get out of the car, we’re leaving.” Rose shoved her door open and they both hopped on top of their hood. Looking towards the distant road in front of them they could see black smoke rising towards the sky; the ground before them was littered by fire.
“Jake?” He couldn’t think at that moment.
“I don’t know. We have to leave.” He took her hand and they ran across a few hoods before stopping short of a car that was forcing its way past another car to escape. Metal tore and plastic cracked as the road became a destruction derby. The smart ones were already ahead in the distance, fleeing on foot. The idealists stayed in their cars, trapped in their vehicular tombs. Babies where crying and children were sobbing, not knowing what to make of the world that they had known for so little of a time.
The mob of humans ran away from the Beast, which clawed its way out from the ground and connected to the Black Mass that broke the sky and ruptured the land. Most people ran into the woods that ran along the road. Jake looked for any vehicle they could ride with, one that would take them to safety the fastest, but there was nothing. He pulled Rose’s hand as his feet kicked up dirt and they made their way to the lining of trees.
Fire engulfed a cloud that was floating in the air. Some people screamed and shifted their cars into gear. The blaze was short lived. The moisture killed it in the air. Engines were revving. More horn noises and suddenly a car went flying against traffic, dissecting the grass in the median. The first car was followed by another. Then another. The panic-stricken couple just sat, comatose in their vehicle.
The blackness in the sky swallowed the clouds and burst through them at an alarmingly fast speed. Their windshield was taken up by the image of this massive structure falling from the sky. Cars crumpled and crunched under the weight of the black mass, now leaving traces of a gray sky shredded against a sea of blue above it.
“Jake, we have to go.” Jake shifted his car into gear. He pulled backwards and cut the wheel to the left but the traffic that built itself behind him didn’t give him enough room to work with. He pulled his car closer to the median and killed the brakes. The cars fighting against traffic slipped and slid through the median, now a mud pit.
The trees in the distance were shaking, the leaves falling out in clumps, as if by being thrust towards the ground. The lightening shot out once more, this time into the black mass. A blinding white light shot out across the plain and the deafening sound of hundreds of car windows erupting at once filled the sky. Jacob and Rose grabbed their ears, drunk from the pressure.
Jacob felt death approaching closer. He wasn’t ready for his time to be over. “Get out of the car, we’re leaving.” Rose shoved her door open and they both hopped on top of their hood. Looking towards the distant road in front of them they could see black smoke rising towards the sky; the ground before them was littered by fire.
“Jake?” He couldn’t think at that moment.
“I don’t know. We have to leave.” He took her hand and they ran across a few hoods before stopping short of a car that was forcing its way past another car to escape. Metal tore and plastic cracked as the road became a destruction derby. The smart ones were already ahead in the distance, fleeing on foot. The idealists stayed in their cars, trapped in their vehicular tombs. Babies where crying and children were sobbing, not knowing what to make of the world that they had known for so little of a time.
The mob of humans ran away from the Beast, which clawed its way out from the ground and connected to the Black Mass that broke the sky and ruptured the land. Most people ran into the woods that ran along the road. Jake looked for any vehicle they could ride with, one that would take them to safety the fastest, but there was nothing. He pulled Rose’s hand as his feet kicked up dirt and they made their way to the lining of trees.
Short Story Fail
Well kiddo's,
There was a short story I was trying to bring to this blog to allow you a glimpse into my genius (kidding) but that seemed to fail worst than all previous attempts to stop the oil spill. It was a happy little story about the end of the world. If you're at all interested in reading bits and pieces of it, be sure to contact me here and I'll give you a little sampling of my idea of death and destruction (Spoiler Alert: copious amounts of kitties and looped tracks from Britney Spears may ensue End Spoiler Alert).
Forgetting that bogus spoiler alert (sorry to disappoint, but hey, that may make a good story) and subsequently deciding to stop wasting your precious reading time, I've decided to start planning and writing original pieces on this format (what?! why?!).
Consider this a little golden nugget that you can keep close to your heart, something to look forward to confronting somewhere in the near future. Until then, I suppose I'll just leave you with images of tiny kittens break dancing to Cher's "Do you believe in life after love". Funky huh?
There was a short story I was trying to bring to this blog to allow you a glimpse into my genius (kidding) but that seemed to fail worst than all previous attempts to stop the oil spill. It was a happy little story about the end of the world. If you're at all interested in reading bits and pieces of it, be sure to contact me here and I'll give you a little sampling of my idea of death and destruction (Spoiler Alert: copious amounts of kitties and looped tracks from Britney Spears may ensue End Spoiler Alert).
Forgetting that bogus spoiler alert (sorry to disappoint, but hey, that may make a good story) and subsequently deciding to stop wasting your precious reading time, I've decided to start planning and writing original pieces on this format (what?! why?!).
Consider this a little golden nugget that you can keep close to your heart, something to look forward to confronting somewhere in the near future. Until then, I suppose I'll just leave you with images of tiny kittens break dancing to Cher's "Do you believe in life after love". Funky huh?
Saturday, June 12, 2010
A (slightly) hypocritical rant about "That Guy"
It never ceases to astound me how (un)intentionally obnoxious people can be, especially whenever they try to be nice. The name that is the start of all of this is "That Guy".
I was at the gym with my friend Adam when a friend of his approached us. I didn't know the guy and anyways they started talking and instantly I'm ignored by "That Guy". That's fine, I don't have to be involved with everything. That said, the guy was an ass. Barely acknowledging me when I was present, he REALLY acknowledged me when he said "So what, did you drag THAT GUY to the gym today?".
A few things.
A) My friend and I are about equally as scrawny as the other, i.e. no obvious physical difference between us besides the fact that he's taller. By assuming HE had to drag ME to the gym implies that there is some discrepancy between us when really, there's not.
B) I invited Adam to the gym that day, NOT the other way around.
C) The guy blatantly disrespected me by harshly judging me right off the bat and then deeming me insignificant and therefore unimportant to know.
Now, the guy could have been an Asshole. That's fine. There are many in the world and god knows I'm probably one of them. The reason I remember this time quite vividly is because this keeps happening.
I work at a restaurant. The very first thing I tell my tables is my name. Most people remember, which is fine. That said, whenever people blatantly don't pay attention to me, that's an issue. I've had tables before refer to me as "Guy", "Friend", "Buddy", "Chief", "Boss", and once, "Trevor".
I suppose the whole point of this rant today is to point out the fact that while I have been referred to by such names, it wasn't to intentionally insult me or anything of that matter. Rather, they just wanted a neutral term that would be "acceptable" to refer to me as whenever they didn't listen to me in the first place.
I've taken a roundabout way to say to respect one another. Everyone has their own thoughts and reactions, and mine is only one of a million. A day is made up of a million tiny insignificant moments that, combined, create an outlook towards life. This is just one of those things that, in a perfect world for me, would include at least some form of respect towards ones individuality and furthermore, their identity.
I was at the gym with my friend Adam when a friend of his approached us. I didn't know the guy and anyways they started talking and instantly I'm ignored by "That Guy". That's fine, I don't have to be involved with everything. That said, the guy was an ass. Barely acknowledging me when I was present, he REALLY acknowledged me when he said "So what, did you drag THAT GUY to the gym today?".
A few things.
A) My friend and I are about equally as scrawny as the other, i.e. no obvious physical difference between us besides the fact that he's taller. By assuming HE had to drag ME to the gym implies that there is some discrepancy between us when really, there's not.
B) I invited Adam to the gym that day, NOT the other way around.
C) The guy blatantly disrespected me by harshly judging me right off the bat and then deeming me insignificant and therefore unimportant to know.
Now, the guy could have been an Asshole. That's fine. There are many in the world and god knows I'm probably one of them. The reason I remember this time quite vividly is because this keeps happening.
I work at a restaurant. The very first thing I tell my tables is my name. Most people remember, which is fine. That said, whenever people blatantly don't pay attention to me, that's an issue. I've had tables before refer to me as "Guy", "Friend", "Buddy", "Chief", "Boss", and once, "Trevor".
I suppose the whole point of this rant today is to point out the fact that while I have been referred to by such names, it wasn't to intentionally insult me or anything of that matter. Rather, they just wanted a neutral term that would be "acceptable" to refer to me as whenever they didn't listen to me in the first place.
I've taken a roundabout way to say to respect one another. Everyone has their own thoughts and reactions, and mine is only one of a million. A day is made up of a million tiny insignificant moments that, combined, create an outlook towards life. This is just one of those things that, in a perfect world for me, would include at least some form of respect towards ones individuality and furthermore, their identity.
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