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The Onion has my number.

The Onion has my number.

People who see me at parties are often surprised to learn how much I abhor human contact. I show up on time, stay for a while, and talk to everyone I can while I’m there. Thing is, that is frequently the only social interaction I will have for the whole month. I’m starting to understand why I’m single. It’s because falling in love turns a lot of people into douchebags, and I don’t want to be a douchebag. I had a friend blow up at me for a stupid joke I made on his Facebook page. He claimed he didn’t want his girlfriend’s grandmother (really, his girlfriend) to see it. I feel no remorse in talking about him like this here. If he wants to get mad about this, he can cry and shit his pants, because fuck him. I’ve made any number of stupid jokes around him before. But now that he has a ladyfriend, he doesn’t want me to be myself in front of her. I guess he thinks his girlfriend’s grandmother has never heard of sex or something.

It has been six months or so since I have gotten multiple full workouts done in a single week (I think). Normally, I hop on the treadmill, then lift weights. I used to do that three times a week. Now, I do it once a week, and even then, I tend to do cardio on one day and weights on another. I just don’t have the energy to do any more than that. Maybe I need something more challenging to do at work. I’ve got the hang of working the register and most of the other stuff, but I still need work when it comes to making drinks. It’s the final frontier, or at least the next one. Others seem to have learned it faster. Maybe they just have more initiative. I tend to hang back unless prompted to join in. Some people have no shame.

I had a problem a few years ago where I couldn’t stop checking the mailbox to see if a check from a publication that I had written an article for had arrived. (The article was never published, but I still got the money. I guess that’s a sweet deal.) Every single day, my schedule revolved around checking the mailbox to see when it would arrive. I was flat broke. I needed to ask my father for money just to buy a burrito. So I couldn’t help but obsess over this $1,000 check that was coming my way. But it took a while. From the time I first asked when I would be receiving payment to the arrival of the check, about one month elapsed. That’s a long time to wait. And all I wanted to do was buy a fancy pen with my own money. That’s it. So imagine my impatience when I discover that some of the publications that I send stuff to can take two to three months or even more to get back to me. The sad part is that every single published author I know of talks about how many rejection slips they had to get before somebody finally said yes. Then what is the point of those first few dozen submissions, I wonder? Has any writer ever gotten accepted within their first two or three (dozen) tries? I’m being forced to wait a long time to hear the word “no”.

I really don’t know where I’m going with this one. I was thinking of taking a short break from blogging after my last post, but the nice thing about whining blogging is that it doesn’t matter whether anybody listens; you can just keep doing it until your throat is sore (or fingers, if you’re typing). Being in a relationship requires the consent of both parties. Blogging requires only an internet connection and basic language skills (actually, some people seem to make do without that one). So…hi. I complain about not being able to get motivated sometimes. I think part of the problem is that I can’t seem to see myself from the outside. I saw some internet thingy a while ago about how everybody has their best qualities taped to their backs or something, so that you can see what’s best about other people but you can’t see what’s best about yourself. I think there is a lot of truth to that. I have, in the past, managed to convince myself of some truly ridiculous things, but then I just went on living my life. Eventually, I realized that what I had accepted (because I lacked the strength to fight back) was never true to begin with, and the tipoff was that it never affected my life one way or the other.

I believe that everyone should be the person that they want to be. I might even go so far as to say that everyone has the power to find that middle ground between the person that they see themselves as and the traits that they were born with. You just have to know what you’re willing to compromise on, that’s all. There is a lot that I believe, or at least suspect, but don’t have the courage to say out loud for fear of being contradicted. Some people just don’t get it. But I refuse to believe that I am a freak, or even that there’s even anything all that unusual about me (besides my incomparable brilliance and stunning good looks, of course). I just don’t want to have to go that far out on a limb to find what I’m looking for. God knows I’ve failed enough already.


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