Monthly Archives: July 2012

Steer Clear Of Your Heroes: A Sequence of Thoughts That Kind of Go Together

I still think it’s weird to work for someone for some company that you greatly admire as a fan, it seems kind of like shitting where you eat… or shitting in your sleep… or however that phrase goes.

Maybe I’m just stuck in the mindset that you should always secretly hate your job. Probably because all the things I enjoy doing are not things people pay other people to do.

Experienced, low-energy, apathetic, resigned professionals needed to lay in bed and watching an entire season of Law and Order, $15/ hour. Commission-based compensation for food consumption.

And on top of that “shitting where you eat” [thing] I have one of those Never-Meet-Heroes complexes about it not only out of fear they will be incredibly lackluster compared to the shining, angels-singing-cherubs-hovering-around-them way I pictured them, but also, mostly, because I’m afraid I’d say something or make a joke about something and offend them and then, you know, my idol hates me.

Also this

“You know, one of two things happens when you meet your heroes, either they’re assholes, or they’re just like you are. Either way you always lose.”

— Imaginary Heroes (2004)

Basically I’m very anti-meet-my-heroes

I like the mystery that allows me to believe whatever I want about them and allows me to believe they’d chuckle [not cackle or bellow] when I said something funny and we’d both sigh think about how wonderful it is to find someone with the same sense of humor.


Internet-ing / Writing: A Revelation In-Progress

The internet is a wonderful and terrible simultaneously. I can spend hours, days on it and never actually accomplish anything yet It’s my portal to the world, I find out everything about the outside world from the internet… mostly because I don’t leave my house. And that is because it’s hot, I don’t want to waste gas because I don’t have money but primarily because I can’t think of anything I want to do, out in the world or at home, and if I’m going to do nothing I can stay at home and do nothing because it’s air conditioned, there aren’t weird people there and I don’t always have to wear pants.

I already live the lifestyle of a writer, I may as well be one.

Maybe that’s the Deep Down Suppressed Desire that I’ve mentioned before that I’ve been suppressing for so long that I couldn’t even remember what it was because I thought I couldn’t do it. And maybe I can’t do it, but maybe I can. I’ll never know unless I try. Maybe I should try my hand writing this fanfiction and go from there. It’s not like I don’t ever make up stories in my head, even if I never write them down. But I dont’ think I want to write fiction, rather, essays… or something.

I don’t know. This is  revelation in-progress

How Not To Pay For Higher Education

I made a list of “Ways To Pay For College” and it started with “get an actual job” and ended somewhere around “donate eggs.” Obviously, this list started out sane and got progressively more drastic.

And I thought about how I’m [closer to] willing to donate eggs, but no one could pay me enough to be a surrogate mother. I don’t think there is a price that is high enough to be pregnant for nine months so, of course, I was then curious how much surrogate mothers get paid and I read the going rate was $15,000.

$15,000 is not enough to be pregnant for nine months. I did the math and that’s like getting paid $2.31 an hour. I’m pretty sure that’s below minimum wage in every state. [24-hour job, y’know because you’e not going to stop being pregnant at any time during the day.]

I dunno, maybe $100,000 to be pregnant for someone else. That’s $15.43/ hour. I think that’s fair because not only am I going to be pregnant for these people at the time, but I also have to live with or fix the I-had-a-baby body and hormone fluctuations for a good while so, yes, $100,000. If anything, that’s a discount.

Behind and Other Inadequecies

I’m so focused on the distant distant future that I’m not even paying attention to right now or you know, actually getting there.

I can’t shake the thought that when i finally get around to doing everything that I want to do, and when I’m finally where I wish I was right now, i’m going to be too old to enjoy it and I’m going to be at the next age bracket where where I should be doing something else, where I should be at the next stage of life.

I feel like I’m never going to catch up. I’m always fucking behind.

I feel like I’m behind on life but really far ahead, too far ahead when it comes to how I look at the world. I’m bored with or “so over” things that I’ve never even done. Prematurely jaded, I once said. I haven’t fully experienced any real shittiness of the world is and I’m already beyond caring that it’s out there.

I always find myself thinking that there are so many folks my age that are really naive, painfully naive, but I don’t know why I think I know better. Maybe I’m the naive one. maybe I subconsciously think that having hope or believing positive things can happen for no reason is naive [just typing that makes me cringe because it sounds so naive to me] so I go as far as I can in the opposite direction.

I don’t know.

Jobs I Have Ever Wanted At Any Time In My Life: About A List

I made of list of “JOBS I HAVE EVER WANTED AT ANY TIME IN MY LIFE” because in times of indecision, lists are what I do. And most of them are pretty typical like “gymnast” or “singer” or “doctor.” I think “ice skater” is also on there. I watched the olympics in ‘96 and ‘98 alright.

The one that came back multiple times throughout my life was “writer” [like, of fiction or something] and I always just turned away from it. I guess because I write so much [not fiction, mind you] that I’m afraid to present it in a context in which it would be judged and I would find out that I am actually terrible at it. Because, like in every other aspect of my life, I’m afraid any skill i thought i had in the area was completely fabricated and that I truly suck.

I’m also pretty sure I use a lot of words incorrectly.

I also can’t write on command.

Is it just me who thinks they suck at everything and just no one has the heart to be honest about it? I’m definitely not.

I don’t know. I’m not going to write anything and pretend like it’s good, I’m just going to flounder on the floor until I decide on something possible and not-horrible to do with myself.

Febreeze of Fashion

It’s not even like I have a problem with leopard print itself it’s not like I honestly think it’s ugly, its just that its so overused in the stereotype of what’s allegedly sexy, it’s so cliche, that its a joke.

And i think there are a lot of people who didn’t get that memo so they’re still wearing leopard print non-ironically, thinking it’s sexy.

Things like fedoras and leopard print and skulls are the Febreeze of fashion. people wear them thinking they’re going to change what’s really there, thinking the clothes will make them cool or sexy or alternative~ or whatever, when all it does it overpower your true stench with something cliche and manufactured. You know, fedoras are clean linen, leopard print is spring garden, skulls are ocean breeze.

and even after you’ve emptied that bottle of clean linen all over your pinstriped fedora, paired with your vest and your graphic t shirt, you’re still going to be painfully uncool, only now it’s going to be really obvious that you were trying to cover up what was there before.

Kinda how febreeze doesn’t make your car actually smell fresh, it just makes it smell like you tried to make it smell fresh, but now it just smells like febreeze.

Clothes wont’ make you any better or worse of a person because they’re just accesories to who you already are.

But I’m probably being a snob? Yeah, I’m probably being a snob.