Like You Do

The only valuable thing I’ve learned from this ninny is that gay men can be boring dudebros just as easily as straight men.

I’m having trouble adjusting my living habits to my work schedule. I’m starting to work mornings, which is good, as it means that my skill level is increasing and will hopefully result in a greater share of tips and more hours in the long run. Problem is, I still have this problem where I can’t seem to get to sleep before midnight no matter how tired I am. It’s my head. Specifically, it’s the voices that live up there. They’re a pretty noisy bunch, as I have said on many prior occasions. I’m not a person who can just make snap judgments and roll with what happens. I need time to plan. (That way, I’m ready to curl up into a ball and cry when the Flying Spaghetti Monster inevitably thwarts my plans.) But seriously, I just don’t thrive when new shit is getting thrown at me every minute. I need to be able to go to my room and lock the door (which I always do even though nobody ever barges in) and spend six hours staring at my computer or lying under my desk in order to figure out where to go from here. My plans tend to function better in the long term than the short term. I just don’t work well when people are demanding to know what I’m doing.

My boss pulled me aside to let me know that my some of my coworkers don’t like me very much. He didn’t phrase it that way; he just said I seem kind of closed off and might want to consider being a bit friendlier with the people I work with. Boy, do I not find that surprising. Friendly is not my default setting, never has been, never will be. You should meet my father, who can smile and chat with most people he meets. If his father were still around, you could meet him, a man who could take 45 minutes just to go down the street and buy milk. My grandfather could strike up a conversation with anyone. Some people just think that way. “Oh look, a person! I should totally be friends with them!” they evidently say to themselves. It is my job, I believe, to educate them on the wonders of misanthropy.

Before somebody mentions it, this is one of those posts where I don’t really have an overarching theme. On some days, I do, but today, I have only a shitload of random thoughts. If you want to understand just how deliriously sex-negative some elements of our culture are, watch the clip below. It’s a compilation of scenes from the short-lived TV series, The Secret Life of the American Teenager. There is a line in this clip so mind-numbingly ridiculous that to even hint at it would spoil the fun. And here’s the kicker: IT’S ALL FROM THE SAME EPISODE. I…I just don’t know what to say to something like that. This show was produced by the same woman responsible for 7th Heaven, a godawful series in which an insultingly perfect white Christian family learns thuddingly obvious (and extremely moralistic) life lessons. Totally different from this show, of course.

Actually, I think I do have a theme going here. Mainly, I’m just frustrated with that feeling of being over the hump. I’ve never had a job quite like this one before. I’ve had retail jobs and food service jobs, but never one this…intense. My canvassing job was more stressful, but since I wasn’t in it for the money, I feel like it doesn’t count. My psychotic ex-roommate was fired from two jobs in the course of one week. At one, he lasted only an hour. My goal, when starting at the coffee shop, was to last more than an hour. I succeeded, and even if I make a fool of myself by shouting at a customer or fighting with a coworker or doing something else that I very well might do if pushed, the worst thing they can do is fire me. That’s fine. I was never married to this thing to begin with.

When I moved to Queens last August, I was thinking of starting over. I had finished my education and was trying to get started professionally. But then shit happened and now I’m here. I don’t subscribe to that “everything happens for a reason” fatalism. As far as I’m concerned, I still think the ideal turn of events would have been for me never to have moved in with that psychopath in the first place. But the fact remains that shit had been on a downhill slide for a while leading up to that. My social life was uneventful, my job search was getting more and more desperate, blog traffic was in the toilet, and somewhere along the line, my computer broke down. Traffic seems to be picking up. That’s nice. But this blog isn’t my life. Try not to confuse one with the other.

Some people see life as one big chess game. I see it as an argument. This is fitting, as I usually win arguments. When I lose, it’s not so much that I’m wrong as that I’m outmaneuvered. Some people know how to play off of others’ emotions with words. They construct an argument that sounds convincing, but is totally meaningless. Those people are my enemies. I have never been very good at winning in the short term. I just tough it out in the hopes that people will come around eventually. Because it’s not really about winning; it’s about who is left standing. I’m still here.

hawkeye

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