Joe's Portfolio of Nonsense

A Public and Quite Unsanitary Brain Dump

A beautiful sense of humor
I knew someone with a beautiful sense of humor. A sense of humor that can make me smile, no matter what's going on. In a bizarre world so shrouded in cynicism, anger and hate - the joy I've received from these moments is priceless. I could be arguing about something passionately. Yet the most subtle, absolutely hilarious, comment can change my world: an orgasm for my soul. Those moments coupled with the physical ones brought me so much joy then.

I don't know if I can truly let go. When you are so stubbornly convinced that someone is right, you don't want to walk away. Someone who fits you like a glove, but in no way is the glove ever boring - it brings warmth, grip, comfort, protection and sometimes a little flair. Some of the greatest pleasures are the least complicated ones, but as a complicated person I think I fear simple pleasures. I'm afraid of having a "normal" (read boring) life. I reject my mother's path, my grandmother's path, my friends paths. The things I enjoy also scare me. Without the uncertainty I don't know if I feel like, like I'm moving forward. Will I ever be ready to just live? I want to so badly.

I had planned on travelling this weekend, but instead, I will stay home. I can't always run from myself. I've done that way too often. Whether it's finding temporary respite by seeing people, drinking, travelling, drinking more, video games, other intoxicants, I just need to be alone.

I cleaned my apartment today, it's a step in caring again (about just being alive). This weekend I'll get a gym membership. I'll feel better and show I'm committed to self improvement, for myself and for my future.

I think working out naked may be a good idea, but the guys at the gym might not think so, and I could get it (le lil smokey) stuck between a stack of plates.

I saw a shadow ( a short one) and I told it, I miss you.

A moth to the flame, basking in the flame until immolation.

Puddle of Mudd - She Hates Me

In recruiting, I've learned through osmosis, that timing is everything. Unfortunately, I've found this to be case in our personal lives as well. An optimist would say that no matter the time something good will come out of a situation if you look for it. Bullshit.

Just as in a career search necessitates an opening, relevant previous experience, a motivation to take on new challenges and the requisite prerequisites, so too do interpersonal relationships. Like a man just out of med school thrown into a trauma ER and calling all the shots, sometimes I feel like I'm woefully unprepared. While the doctor in the ER might be able to apply the theory to the situation and come out relatively unscathed, I imagine, that most would fail - would that failure tarnish how they feel about the profession they thought they once loved?

This may be a bit of an overstatement, but relationships, unlike jobs, are key to our species and yet, we are generally woefully unprepared to take on the challenges that these relationships bring on. Nothing in our childhood is taught about what healthy relationships are, how to give, receive, support, love, like, etc. Why do we prescribe rules for grammar, speech and other less important characteristics but not the one that correlates more closely to actual human happiness.

I write this because I am not prepared. On the cusp of 28, I feel like I have the mental maturity of an 8 year old at times. I find that I don't have all the tools I want to be able to take the next step in life. Because of this, I must go through a process of trial and error. There's no practice field for romance and friendships, you have to destroy a few friendships and romantic interests to learn.

How fucking cruel is the world, when we are trained to protect property (minimize risk through prior training before any other day to day activity) and yet, the most important thing is a fucking crash course. Losing someone because the "timing" isn't right is bad but when I find another, hopefully, by then I'll have those tools through reflection, communication and empathy. If not, well then where a tree had sprout representing a possible future, now only a stump remains. At some point, I hope a tree will grow, but for now, all I see around me is a field of stumps where the saplings were.

At night, when the creep of the cold surrounds me in an empty apartment. My righteous anger keeps me warm. Like a blanket of familiar victimhood, it reassures me that my position is right. Without it, I feel naked.

How do you go about drawing a line in the sand and then forgive once that trespass is made? Are all boundaries like that? What if everything in life could be negotiated, readjusted, changed, and was completely fluid. In reality, most things are probably more like that than our desire for them to be static. What if the boundary that was trespassed was your biggest vulnerability. Then what? If you acknowledge forgiveness then you are also acknowledging that the line in the sand you drew was trivial and didn't matter.

Do you risk losing a person because you can't forgive, or losing yourself because your values have been called into question and you value this person more than your ideals.

It's a tough choice and I don't know how to make it.


To the top
Why should I not be happy to just observe the mountain? Why must I try and scale it? Is it only so I can just wave my dick around and feel like a man? Maybe that's it. Maybe I feel like a boy.

Is it money? Maybe If I had more of it I could pay someone to conquer my mountains for me. Maybe it could have been different, easy. Maybe I wouldn't be writing at 11:00pm instead of sleeping. Maybe, I've already lost it. Soon to be 28 and then 29. 'Rithmetic tells us that after that comes 30, 31 and so forth. Why do we count up? Isn't counting up really just counting down to death but in a way to make us feel like we're becoming larger? In fact it's a bit perverse. It's like telling a man to run as fast as he can from a lion, a lion that will invariably catch him and measuring how far he got from the origin point before the lion's sharp fangs pierced his spine. John made it 74 Meters, Bob made it 84 meters. Why isn't there an option to not play this game?

I tire of it.

Feeling Stuck
Feeling Stuck. It's an interesting concept. Being stuck should be a pleasant experience; it provides stability. But sometimes stability doesn't grant satisfaction. A part of human experience must call for tragedy, violence, uncertainty, fear, pain and everything else synonymous with adventure. This is most apparent in the obsessive manifestation of portrayed human suffering, from cable news to college age oriented websites.

There's something in us that gets too caught up in the mundane and wants, or rather, needs to be jolted out of it. I can imagine myself contemplating my own pitiful concerns as I walked down the street and immediately finding myself in a uncontrolled situation. Maybe it's violence, anger, comedy or simply absurdity. I don't know how it would manifest - maybe as a man walking up and punching me in the face or a mentally imbalanced (aka crazy) man spitting on me. That would really shake me out of the stuck feeling.

Even thinking about the situation makes me swell with anger, righteous anger. It would obliterate all my petty concerns, my need of appreciation and recognition and give me a state of animal-like emotion.

I think that would be beautiful.

English Major
Why the hell did I major in English?

Did I actually think that I would be able to find a rewarding job out here in the private sector? You know, the place where real American's live long joy-filled lives. I should have majored in something practical, like accounting, engineering, communication or basically anything outside of the "Arts." Maybe my choice of a pleasurable major will force my hand to become an entrepreneur. Do I have to follow the wild cries of Randroids like Kudlow and everyone on Fox News?

Who knows? It's worth a shot - especially If I want to keep eating.

Resume Hell
I have no clue what to put on my resume. I know it's about me, or rather, about my skills as an employee, but I honestly have no clue what to say. I feel like I'm either lying my ass off to get hired or selling myself short. There's no middle ground with a resume. You're either bullshitting or being brutally honest. I guess it's time I choose what guy I want to be. The guy who struts around the office winking at people, or the scarred fragile man who is remembered because "he was really quiet." I don't know yet. I'm giving Friday as a deadline. That way, no matter how bad my resume is, I'll be satisfied with the knowledge that I met a deadline.

For a warm-up let's do some resume synonyms.

Mail Room-Logistics
Make tables in excel - Database and information management
Cold calling - Marketing and PR experience

I guess I'll try to be as honest as possible. When I'm still unemployed in six months I'll be able to come back to this and say, ah, it all makes sense.

Afternoon Chat
I remember. Ah, how those words are seen as full and hollow at the same time. Remembrance is a funny thing. It can conjure up powerful moments to relive in the present and at the same time, can distort all truth. Imagine having the memory in your head and then finding out it's wrong. It is quite unacceptable. Did you not live the past? Well then why is the past different from those others who experienced it with you? Unless they were inebriated, which may have been the case since I was inebriated mostly in the past, there should be no reason for the discrepancies of memories.
That reminds me. I have to go but we should discuss more later. I find you rather intriguing. The way that your face shows no signs of acknowledgement puts me at ease and frightens the hell out of me. Good Bye.

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