Poop!

Or should the title be 'My Oh My I'm Boring'? I think that when a proclomation of boredom is made that it's often a statement about one's self. If you were an exciting person you wouldn't be bored. It makes sense doesn't it?

There's a saying I'm sure most of us have heard that states: "Good help is hard to find." I think the reverse is (also) true. I think a good boss is hard to find! I've had some really shitty bosses; haven't you? I guess it's a difficult juggling act to maintain control of your employees without becoming an aspiring Fascist. Similarly, it's sometimes difficult to maintain respect for a boss who may seem to be trying too hard to be cool.

Basically, I don't give a shit at this point. I just want a job.

I have this feeling that there might used to have been a broader spectrum of culturally accepted types of people then there are today. I say this because I believe TV has fully infiltrated our concept of what normal is. I think that before TV people were probably a lot more diverse. Sure there was radio and that was probably the beginning but with all the crap shows that are on in the evenings now it just seems like a big watered down MTV Spring Break episode. The drama is all captured on tape so we can get our soap opera fix. The guys have washboard stomachs and the girls say 'like' a lot. Everybody knows about Carmen Elektra's recent breakup...BLAH...BLAH...BLAH! And when it comes to music, often times it is not the music that reflects life but for the suburban white kids it is life that imitates music.
I guess it's kind of a good thing since there's more overlap now. It leads to more tolerance between the racially different masses; and I'm all for that.
I just think that maybe it used to be different. That people were allowed to be more unique; that the pressure to conform wasn't as strong before TV.
I don't know.

My world is filled it sometimes seems with wannabe psychics. People who think they've got you all figured out because they had a conversation with you. The truth is that there are so many facets of my personality that I think it would be impossible for most anybody to figure me out. I don't create these many facets on purpose or to be interesting; they just exist without any effort on my part.
What I love is when a wannabe psychic goes shooting off their mouth regarding their non-clinical opinions on my mental state just to later end up putting their foot in their mouth. "Oh...he's real fucked up and BLAH BLAH BLAH."
The problem is that sometimes instead of getting the chance to show that the wannabe psychic is wrong I get isolated by the wannabe psychic away from the groups he or she tells their bullshit to and it is therefore impossible to prove him or her wrong.
I hate wannabe psychics.

To be pitied and to have pride are two conditions that may come into conflict. But if said person is pitiable then perhaps comfort might be found in receiving pity.

I know sometimes I don't want people to pity me because I've got a lot of pride. Other times I am staggered at people's seeming lack of caring, evident by their lack of pity.

Am I the one whose never satisfied or does the world simply not have a place for my puzzle piece to fit?

I don't know.

The yin yang has hit the fan. The temple doors will be closed today. The prophets will kneel before their statue gods with offerings of incense and small bowls of food. The birds will carry on as usual but their songs will fall on deaf ears. The whole perimeter will be given a good going over. "No Hunting" signs must remain intact as must the "No Trespassing" signs. The flame that lives in the heart of the museum mustn't be gazed upon today. It's pulsating rythm burns too hot and too fast for our eyes to bear. It's appetite for more oxygen and fuel know no bounds. It is hungry. It might devour you if you dare to enter the inner chamber. Cannibal flames might lick your flesh and find it so tasty it will be stripped from your frame. As for the non-believers, they should spend the day in the bathroom smelling their fingers and picking their noses. That is the safest place for them. Once night falls we will celebrate the passing of this day. There shall be a feast and mass consumption. The prophets will dance and the non-believers will stare. All in the name of tomorrow.

I don't know where the old man was coming from. Two months ago he invited me to come visit him and now he plays dumb about swapping phone numbers. I didn't really give him my cell phone number or my home phone for that matter; I'm not that stupid.
I found out he's 62. I guess in his day things were a lot different than now. Most blogs are by anonymous writers who may possibly go by a pen-name. In fact, who's to say how much of anyone's blog is truth or fiction including mine?
I think Rodger was trying to be an undercover operative who faked friendship to try and get the goods on me. He must've been pretty pissed off as is evident in his tone when his little plan stopped working. His local snitch loving sheriff must've really thought old Rodger was onto somethin'! Sorry to dissappoint you guys!!!
Another theory is that Rodger was drunk. This might account for the degree of negative judgementalness. I'm sure I've said similar things in my life to a person or two.
Shit, maybe he was trying to give me some more inspiration to write about...I don't know.

Well, as you know, my name is Rodger Smith it's in the fucking phone book.I'm not the one that suggested swapping numbers, all I wanted was a model # off your phone to see what features it had on it. I don't put bogus names in my address book, I also don't associate with people that are ashamed of who thay are and I certenly don't want to be frinds with them. What the fuck are you hiding any way besides a disassociate personality. I think I see why a lot of time your complaining of not having quality Friends, just read between the lines !!!! Fucking grow up, get a life, see a doctor, Joe (what ever your fucking name is) don't fucking bother me anymore, I don't want to call you anything or anybody. I don't have time to waste on people like you! (to maney people around that are not sick!!)

Winston Churchill wrote:

Rodger,
I don't know you well enough to tell you my last name
man. Why don't you call me "Joe Crazy" or "Crazy
Joe"...will that work for your address book??? I
certainly hope it does! I appreciate our friendship.
Those 3D drawings on the street were awesome! As for
the link below, all I get is an error URL page. Oh
well. What is it anyways???
Joe

# posted by Winston @ 8:33 PM 1 What?!

Dear world! Why am I constantly encountering people who seek to get in the way of my happiness? Why must there always be at least one person at work who makes up lies and rumors about me to my supervisor behind my back? Why is there always somebody at the party who tells the girl I've been flirting with that I have a girlfriend I'm not telling her about while I'm in the bathroom? Why can't I get a square deal on my 'goodies'?
I'm convinced it's jealousy plain and simple. Competition and greed for sure! These are "healthy" attributes as long as they don't get out of control or at least they're natural. But I feel like I get more than my fair share of this type of prejudicial treatment. WHY??? I've had some lucky breaks but I've also had my share of miseries! I guess I'll have to grow into an old homeless man who has nothin' and nobody. When we have nothing to lose; everything becomes a gain...ya dig? What a fickle time in my life...*sigh*

Thank you all for your two cents! I have a special file where I put all that change. Maybe one of these days I'll have enough to take myself to Amsterdam or somethin'. Until then, please feel free to share your thoughts; just don't expect me to take them seriously at all.

Let's see...how many two cent comments would it take to get, say, $2000.00 together. Well, that's easy! 100,000 I believe is the answer! So I'll eagerly be waiting for the next 99,977 (give or take). Keep it up!!! I'm winning!!!

I remember something we used to do way back in the 7th grade. I wonder if anybody else has ever tried this or can offer a medical explanation of what exactly we were doing to ourselves. What we'd do was crouch down and put our head inbetween our legs and hyperventilate. We'd take a certain number of very deep breaths, something like 20 or so. On the 20th inhale we'd stand up and hold our breath, chest puffed out like a bird strutting his stuff. Standing behind us would be a friend of our choosing who would wrap his arms around our chest and with his hands grasping one another he would deliver a pressure blow to the solar-plexis (the sunken part in the middle of your chest) something like a bear hug from behind. The result was passing the fuck out for anywhere from a couple seconds to maybe 30 seconds. The friend who'd delivered the 'hug' would hold you as your body went limp and gently let your body fall to the ground. Some people reported that they had visions during their time on the ground with their eyes jittering under closed eye lids. It became so popular amongst the 7th and 8th graders that finally the principal was summoned to announce that such activity would be forbidden from that moment on.

We'd do it everywhere. It was like we were little aspiring junkies! I remember doing it in the bathroom and helping others do likewise as if recess didn't offer enough time to do this to ourselves. What the hell were we doing?! Does anybody know???

We reap what we sew do we not? Talk shit and eventually it'll come back and hit you in the face. Burn somebody and you'll get burned. Believe me! Karma is real. Thieves get robbed all the time. These people who think they can beat the system are fooling themselves. They stand in front of the mirror and practice their lies over and over again until they actually believe themselves. It sickens me.

Be straight up for fuck's sake! Take some responsibility. Quit trying to get over on me. Your poker skills aren't going to get you through life. I sure as hell am not going to hang around and watch your two faced demon eat itself into oblivion. Take your bitch ass someplace else. Tell your lies to somebody else. Leave me alone!

I had some drinks last night and crashed around 1am. In my usual unusual style I woke up at 4am. At 5am I noticed the trees were being blown quite a bit so I walked to the front door. I opened it and was greeted with the coolest wind I've felt in at least a month. A storm was uh'comin'. I've got french doors for front doors so I opened them both and proceeded to walk around the house opening all the windows that aren't sealed shut with paint. After 10 minutes the house reached a level of cool I'll be enjoying come fall. I should mention that I'm being a cheap skate and not using the airconditioner this summer. Last month my electricity bill was only $40. I think maybe I should turn it on for an hour in the middle of the night though just to get rid of the heat that accumulates during the day.

Let it rain I say...LET IT RAIN!

I love hotdogs, especially in the summertime. I like mine with plenty of mayonaise and some spicy mustard; don't forget a strip of processed cheese. Sure, I know some people get crazy with their condiments from chili to mountains of relish but I like a clean experience. I don't want to get my clothes or my surroundings dirty afterall! My mom's a vegetarian so when I eat hotdogs at her house they're the veggie variety. I was raised on 'em so I think they're good. When she runs out I eat my step-dad's 'real' hotdogs which are also very tasty. I think I could eat a bunch of hotdogs in a row if given the chance. I saw a contest on TV in NYC I think and some little Japanese dude with dyed blonde hair won the contest. I couldn't believe it!! Some contestants including the winner used a ruinous technique in which they dipped their hotdog in water. EWWWW!!! I guess it makes it easier to swallow but it must ruin the white bread goodness of the hotdog bun. I'm hungry...

My cell phone offers several options I'd like to tell you about. I can put people into groups (i.e. friends, VIP, other, business, family). Once this is done I just figured out I can set my phone to only ring when the groups I mark call. So obviously I checked family and friends and VIP's too. This means I will never be awoken by another telemarketer but even better when my fake ass friends call I won't even be bothered. I'm psyched about this exciting new way to censor no good motherfuckers outta my life. It's like blocking somebody's email address but better! 'Go ahead and call!!! I won't hear ya.' Some people say technology has overrun their life but thanks to a little extra effort technology can also help reduce unwelcome intrusions.
Many thanks to the good people at Nokia. Cheers!!

Pump up the music and take off your shoes. Rest 'em on my rear view mirror; I won't mind. Smoke 'em if you got 'em. I'm gonna take you for a trip in the mothership. Left outta the driveway and past the schools and churches. The asphalt still resonates with the sun's heat from another blistering day of our friend sunshine. Mumbling in my ear might get you smacked but in spite of this fact just try and relax. I'll open the moonroof so you can see our father sun's sister, the moon. Isn't she beautiful?! Weightless proportions my mind cannot comprehend. Her pock marked face glows kindness on us this evening. She'll be our watchtower. When she's gone we shall sleep. Open up your nostrils and smell the honeydew and fresh cut grass. Let your senses simmer in the evening's atmosphere.

Wanting to expand my list of contacts, friends, associates, etc. I found myself paging through a book at Barnes & Noble yesterday called something like "Never Eat Alone". It caught my eye because I've been an eat alone kinda guy for quite a few years now. It was a story from a poor boy gone rich. He outlined his strategies and at times bragged incessantly it seemed. He mentioned that "pinging" was a necessary practice to keep your network intact. "Pinging" is when you contact somebody but you don't ask them for something. He also said that friendships are like muscles, the more they're worked, the stronger they become. I thought these tidbits of networking know-how were of some use to my situation so I've passed them onto you.

In other news, I'm planning to go to church this weekend for the first time in many years. I grew up going to church every weekend so I kind of know what to expect. But this time it will be strictly to network so to speak. I need some new friends. And what's wrong with seeking friends who believe in helping your fellow man? Perhaps this has been where I've been going wrong in past years. I go to bars and am disappointed by the types of people I meet there; usually out to use you in some fashion that's not exactly wholesome. Don't get me wrong; I love getting fucked up and havin' a good old time but I need some nice people in my life who are able to give a shit when I need them to. Afterall, I'm just a nice guy myself all rants and ravings excluded. So fingers crossed!!!

Everybody must've known at least one in their life; hell sometimes we're related to them! They're a difficult breed if you ask me. I guess I don't fit competition into my definition of 'friendship'. It's frustrating to have someone tell you they're your homeboy but to then watch repeatedly as, what can be termed healthy competition, gets in the way of me achieving certain reasonable goals I have for myself. In my opinion a friend should be helping me meet or attain these goals not block them.
I've been lied to in love; blinded by it I suppose. Not wanting to face the fact that things were really quite one sided. I think my friendship with a long-time homeboy is shaping up to be sadly similar. 'Talk is cheap' and that's about the extent of what I'm getting. In a way I'd like to confront this friend of mine but to what purpose? He's always been an alpha-male being the oldest of 4 brothers. I used to watch him beat up on his little bros and think to myself 'Wow, he's such a nice guy but look at how he treats his little brothers.' I guess that now that he doesn't live at home he finds other ways to make himself "top dawg" so to speak. So I think a confrontation would only make for sour grapes; it won't change him so why bother?
Here's to everybody whose got a fucked up dynamic going on that they wanna shake...CHEERS!

I'm fearful that my blog has become less than it once was. It's now nothing more than a diary it seems. Living in adverse conditions in S. Korea gave me inspiration no matter how unwelcome it was. I'm afraid the high of leaving that country unannounced has worn off. Now I'm just babbling...or so I fear. The safety and security that my homeland offers me is like a sedative. My days are pretty much all the same. I'm sure things will pick up soon enough; once I find a job and a woman. The highlights of my days are the simple creature comforts most of us take for granted such as a good meal and a comfy bed. I appreciate my friends who still stop by and give my site a look-sy. I hope to provide you all with more quality content in the coming months. Please bear with me. Thank you!

I got a degree in Sociology after failing to earn one in Geology. The whole discipline is about putting people into categories. Everyone categorizes. It helps us understand our surroundings. If we always looked at a situation as if it were completely new to us then aging and maturity might not be in our vocabulary unless we were referring to physical changes that occur as we age. Some people have an incredible ability to 'size people up.' They do this by being expert categorizers. They gained this talent by meeting and seeing a lot of different kinds of people. These experiences allow them to properly identify and subsequently categorize a person or people and deal with them accordingly.
My rants about being categorized are of a personal nature. I'm venting. I'm frustrated and sometimes worried that I'm seen as being worse than I actually am. I have this need to sometimes unnecessarily defend myself (refer to my blogger profile). I've been looked down on before and it made an impression. In fact, it's happened enough that perhaps I've grown defensive; I'm really not sure. If I were a mind reader I'd be sure and I'd probably be a lot different but since I'm not psychic I often worry about how I'm being perceived. Sometimes I imagine somebody talking about me after I'm gone and saying something derogatory about which they are mistaken. I've heard it too often to pretend it doesn't exist. And most importantly I've done it myself more than once. What I'm afraid I'm doing is projecting my own secret judgementalness onto everyone else. But hey, maybe we're all like this. Maybe it's just a symptom of our species.

It bugs me when people put me in a box and say "He's one of those people who..." Granted sometimes it's a compliment but even then it makes me do a double take. It indicates a sense of presumption or dare I say patronization. To think someone knows you well enough to categorize you. Hell, as I write this I wonder if that's why I don't have many friends. I can only think of one person or maybe two who I'd like or at least not mind if they categorized me.

Have any of you ever heard that it takes X number of compliments to undo 1 insult? I was in elementary school and somebody said actual numbers but I can't recall what they were. My friend just told me you can never undo an insult no matter how many compliments one might receive. That's depressing. It seems like whenever somebody mentions that phrase ("He's one of those people...") it's an insult. Maybe that's just when people are talking about me though.

The baby deer lay perched on the verge of sheer abandon, fearing the worst. As it's big black eyes surveyed the surrounding brush there was no sign of its momma. Wondering where she'd gone the baby deer lay still, like a stone. It wondered if that was all there was to life. It was pretty easy if you think about it. Just stay still and hide and chances are good you'll go unharmed. Free from the danger of grazing in the open pasture or attacks by wild bears and cats. Suckling momma's tit and being very still would be all this youngest member of the woods would ever know if an asteroid should enter the atmosphere and land where the baby deer had been so vigilantly silent. Only a crater and cosmic debris would remain. When momma returns, if she ever will, all she'll find is a hole where her baby once waited ever so patiently to see and smell the only creature it had ever known. So still the baby deer waits, watching, like a stone.