Whatever

                I want to care; I really do.  But I’m tired of trying to care enough for everybody else too.  It often seems like the things that are important to me are not important to the people around me.  Do you know how frustrating that is?  If you do, for god’s sake, let me know, because I feel totally alone in that capacity.  No one fucking gets it.  People with their bullshitty fake small talk make me so crazy.  Crazy, like I want to drill a hole in the top of my skull and let all the crazy out.  Crazy, like I want to voluntarily commit to an institution or a rehab clinic just to get away from the mundanity of the life that I created.  (And yes, that last bit is the knife in the side – the things which kill me slowly are that which I have created for myself.) 

                I wish that I could be one of those people who push all the bullshit aside and just be happy.  One of those Christiany, optimistic people who take it one day at a time or celebrate in the little things god gave them or whatever Christians do.  (I might be thinking of Alcoholics Anonymous…)  I can’t do it!  First of all, I like the dark side of me – it’s the place that makes me happy (if that makes any sense).  And secondly, I am fundamentally certain that all the compromises in my path of life (made consciously – all of them) were bad decisions.  I sold myself short over and over again.  And I have tried to make amends with that and just live the life I chose for myself, but I can’t.  The people we surround ourselves with are our lives, and … well, I chose wrong.  I compromised.  I settled.  I was wrong.  And it kills me a little bit every single day. 

                Certain people who read this blog say stupid, simplistic shit to me about changing my life.  I would like to say to them:  “Fuck you.”  Change your own life and stop fucking reading my blog in order to find out dirt about my life.  If you really want to talk to me, call me or something.  Don’t fucking read this blog and then judge me from outside.  Navigate to another place and hyper-manage your kid’s lives or something.  Go away.  And don’t talk shit about other people just so you can feel better about yourself.

                Do you see what I mean?  Do you see how the anger takes over?  It’s because I have no one to share my life with who really cares.  I have me.  Oh, and me.  And since no one else really cares; I don’t care anymore either.  I’ll do my job, and do it as best as I can, and I’ll try to impart some knowledge to my kids, and then I’ll die.  Pretty cool, yeah?  A great life plan.  My secondary job for now is to just maintain a level of consistency so my children can live without too much undue stress, and wait until it can be my turn to live my life again.  Hopefully I’ll be able to breathe in life again before I die of aggregated stress or skin cancer.  It just depends on how soon I’ll be able to let go.

                It’s so cliché, but I wish I would have known how all those little compromises would add up to such a painful resolution.  And a huge part of me is glad that I refuse to accept mediocrity in my personal life.  I deserve better.  We all deserve the dream, so why do so many of us sell is short just to make life easier in the short term? 

                I sure don’t know.  And neither do the haters out there who pretend they have their shit together all the time.  

Pussy Riot

                What a great name for a band, yeah?  Except if you’re in Russia.  Oh, and except if you sing songs with anti-Putin messages in front of a Russian Orthodox Church.  What the fuck were you thinking, girls?  You don’t live in America!  You can’t just park your ass in front of a church and start saying what you think!  (or singing it, for that matter).  People in Russia don’t fuck around with religion; Russia sucks.  They need SOMETHING to keep them hoping for a better tomorrow, and it’s called heaven.  Russia is such a shitty, cold, poor country that people don’t even want to leave, because thinking about leaving makes them tired.  And cold.  And hungry.

                I get what these girls were trying to do – draw some attention to the fact that Putin was stealing back the presidency of Russia – but what did they think was going to happen after they staged their little protest?  Putin is ex-KGB!  He ENJOYS fucking people up!  (A lot.)

                So what are they being charged with?  Hooliganism.  That’s fucking outstanding.  We need to get that labeled as a crime over here in America.  Before, during, and after every Nebraska Cornhusker game (or any other sporting event, I suppose), the entire crowd would be subject to arrest.  Adds a little spice to sports, yes?  Imagine how many people would be arrested at international soccer games!

                The “victims” in the case are people who work at the church.  They were so offended by the heresy, that they pressed charged (egged on by Vladimir, I’m sure).  The victims’ statement talked about how the secular parts of Russia were ruining it for all the religious people.  As it should be, religious people!  Take your heads out of your asses!  You live in Russia, and you’re fucked!  Praying about it won’t make anything better, nor will persecuting (prosecuting) young girls who were dumb enough to speak up. 

                Let me put it simply:  you can’t hide like an ostrich up god’s ass and pretend like the people who don’t buy into religion aren’t there.  Why be offended?  If you’re so right about heaven and hell and whatever else, just be happy that all those OTHER noisy motherfuckers will be burning in hell soon. 

God (Allah, Buddha, Mother Tree…)  Bless America and the First Amendment!

On Getting Old

When I was young:

• ·         People could smoke on airplanes.  Then the airlines decided that not everyone loves the carcinogens in their bodies, so they made a smoking and nonsmoking section (how fucking stupid is that … ON A PLANE?).

o   Also, airports were pretty cool places once upon a time.  There weren’t strip searches and metal detectors and Islamic terrorists.  The worst it got back then was getting seated next to someone who took full advantage of the free liquor in first class and drank for five straight hours.

o   Oh, and you used to be able to actually extend your legs in a plane.  And reclining your seat didn’t mean hip dysplasia for the person behind you.

• ·         Smoking was pretty cool.  I don’t remember if there were warning labels on cigarettes when I first started smoking, but you weren’t scorned from society like people are now.  I think the last time I bought cigarettes, I was pissed that the cost was nearing $3 a pack.  What it is now with all the sin taxes?  $15 or something?  Thank god I quit when I did, huh?
• ·         Since my dad worked for United Airlines, we flew to Hawai’i several times.  We had to dress up to get on the plane.  We couldn’t sit in first class if we didn’t have stockings on (the girls, that is).  Rule #1 for flying was dress nicely.  Obviously, people don’t subscribe to that any more:  flip flops and sweatpants.  It’s like a bus now.
• ·         Underage drinkers could sneak into bars/buy beer at gas stations.  It was just easier then.  The girl with the biggest boobs would go try to buy the liquor (it was NEVER a boy who tried).  I would say I had about an 85% success rate back in the day.  Not too shabby. 
• ·         Seat belts were not required.  A lot of cars back then didn’t even HAVE seat belts built into them.  My head went through a front shield window when I was about 12, but you didn’t hear me lobbying congress for better safety! 
• ·         I grew up with only three channels of television.  Just stop for a moment and try to remember when people actually did things and had thoughts that weren’t implanted by the media!  I remember being quite excited when a 4^th channel was added (though I can’t remember what it was). 

o   AND!  I actually remember the day MTV went on air.  Video Killed the Radio Star – terrible song, but the sentiment was there.  That’s fucking old.  Young people today don’t even realize that the M in MTV is for music, because all that’s on that channel is “reality” TV.

o   Oh, and back in my youth, “reality TV” was called the news. 

• ·         I used to listen to the radio.  And because my mom didn’t buy shit like music (she was ridiculously cheap, plus music was a luxury item), I would sit by the stereo speakers with my hand-held recorder and record the songs I liked from the radio.  (Jesus, I sound like a fucking fossil.)  But it was worth the distorted tape recording (yes, I said “tape”), because I had caught that song the moment it was on.  (Something which seems really stupid now when I think about it, but whatever.)
• ·         We had a record player in our living room – if I’m being honest, I was actually a piece of furniture, like a cabinet with a phonograph in it (Jesus Christ, and my parents were so old that they had 78 rpm albums!  I bet you don’t even know what that is!  Wait, I can up that times two.  We had an eight track player in our basement, and my first car has a cassette player in it.  Hell yeah!  Talk about the speed of light!
• ·         In my bedroom, was a bed.  And my clothes.  Seriously, that’s it.  I didn’t have any other shit in there.  No toys, games, televisions, video games, not even books.  It was a bed.  And when I was really little (before my sister moved out & we had to share a room), I used to grind my teeth like no other (apparently), which led to a direct correlation of my sister wanting to kill me with her bare hands. 
• ·         We had block parties.  I don’ t know how else to explain it but to say that we put cars and/or huge picnic tables at both ends of our block so no traffic could get through, and we barbequed and ran around like wolves all night.

o   Speaking of which, all the young-ish people in the ‘hood would play kick the can or flashlight tag or some such other excuse for running around like hellions long after the street lights went out.  I would often leave the house when I got up and come back periodically for food, but otherwise roam un-chaperoned around my neighborhood all day.  My parents didn’t know where I was.  They didn’t care!  As long as I wasn’t underfoot, I could go play in the huge drainage ditch at the park (which I often did).  People were a lot less uptight then (and don’t try to tell me the world was a less dangerous place then, because it wasn’t – ask an altar boy). 

• ·         I had a paper route (okay, yes, it only lasted a few months), but my mom was like the paper lady in our neighborhood, and tons of kids had paper routes.  They got off school and walked around with the paper.  They got up at 5am on the weekends to deliver people’s papers to them.  And they didn’t (usually) bitch about it.  If you wanted money, you earned it, or you didn’t get shit. 
• ·         When I had to “look things up”, I used the red, leather encyclopedia set in my basement.  Think about that for a second. 

I’m starting to sound like an 80-year-old curmudgeon, which was not my point.  I was just thinking about all the ways in which the world has changed over the past 40 years, and it’s not unsubstantial.  The fact that my first car was a 1968 Mustang fastback with pictures of horses on the interior seats (which I promptly wrecked) crossed my mind earlier today when I was wondering how important gas mileage is when buying a car. 

Oh, memories.  

Things That Piss Me Off

• ·         Gender Expectations:  Why is it that society is so much more accepting of older, average-looking men than older, average looking women?  Look at the movies as the only example you need.  Lumpy dude hooks up with the hot girl – it’s NEVER the other way around.  Why can the guy be balding and paunchy, but the girl has to be tight and hot?  Such a bullshit double-standard.

o   Plus it’s bullshit when people stop trying to look good after a certain point in life.  They just give up and start wearing sweatpants and try to ignore the fact that they can’t see their lower body any more.  Brush your hair! Floss! Wax your chest!  Shave your back hair!  Treat your wife as well as you treat that slutty girl you work with!  Pretend like you care about the way you present yourself to the world!

• ·         Reality TV:  It’s not real, people.  (And as a sub-point…)

o   Television, which is making my children stupid, vapid, shadows of who they could be.  Hobbies are being replaced by cable TV and internet videos.  At least make your own fucking video to post online (preferably not one of you doing something stupid and/or illegal).  Sing a song, WRITE a song, play an instrument, do something that makes you a better version of yourself. 

o   P.S. Being on television doesn’t make you an expert on ANYTHING.  So shut the fuck up.  (Oprah, Dr. Phil, Dr. Drew, Tyra Banks, et cetera)

• ·         Most American’s ideology that all of the problems they face on a daily basis are not their fault.  Most Americans are so deluded that they believe all the bullshit shoved down their throats by the media (and themselves).  “I” can’t be fat, because there’s somebody fatter than me over there.  “I” don’t eat food that’s bad for me, because the commercial for this snack says it’s healthy!  “I” am not addicted to these prescription drugs, because my doctor told me I should take them (which certainly has nothing to do with the pharmaceutical companies lining their pockets). 
• ·         Dysfunctional Families:  ALL families are dysfunctional to some extent.  Nobody goes home to a perfectly functional environment.  Any time you put a bunch of people in a house with each other, there is going to be friction, fighting, and anger.  (Leading into…)

o   Marriage:  what a loaded pile of shit.  One of the few socially acceptable relationships wherein people don’t have sex, argue incessantly about inane bullshit like dinner or furniture, and generally harbor a bottomless well of resentment and anger pieced together brick by murderous brick over years and years of both real and imagined slights and emotional warfare.  (Thank you, Denis Leary.)

• ·         Blind Allegiance to Sports Teams:  It’s a fucking game – get over it.  And the Olympics?  Yes, it’s fun to watch, but I could give a shit less who wins.  I generally pull for the underdog or whoever is hotter. 
• ·         Mexicans:  Actually, it’s not the Mexicans that piss me off, it’s the Americans who act like America would be the same without Mexicans.  “Let’s build a wall,” the assholes scream.  Who would build the wall?  Mexicans.  Because (generally, and not be stereotypical) immigrants work harder than lazy, fat Americans who sue McDonald’s for making them fat.  (“Fatter”, sorry.)
• ·         Liars.  How hard is to tell the truth, really?  For some people, apparently, honesty is something they are incapable of.  They can look you straight in the eye and lie about something as heinous as cheating or as insubstantial as leaving dirty dishes in the sink.  When you ask those bastards who left the partially eaten ham sandwich on the living room table, they will look you in the face and say they don’t know (even though you watched them set that sandwich there the day before). 
• ·         People Who Can’t/Won’t Control Their Children:  Recently I was on an airplane.  If you’ve even been on a plane, you already know where this story is headed.  The row behind me consisted of a lady and her three children, perhaps about ages 4 to 10 or so.  Those little bitches were SO annoying.  Three and a half hours of whining, bitching, and/or screaming about every leg of the flight.  On descent into Omaha (my headache was in full bloom by this point), the little one keeps whining, “ow!”  Owie!”  (Am I even spelling that right?)  Because her ears were popping.  For 10 fucking minutes this little brat cries, while her mother says, “maybe you should suck your thumb.”  “Maybe you should chew some gum.”  Just shove the gum in her mouth and shut her up!  It would have taken about five seconds to work and she would have been quiet.  Instead, the mom tells the stewardess at the end of the flight how cute her little girl is and what a great little flier she is.  The carry-on dog under the seat beside me didn’t make a peep the whole flight and he wasn’t even drugged.  

o   Subpoint:  children in grocery stores.  Shut your kid up.  No one cares if little Johnny wants a chocolate bar.  Either buy it or don’t, but stop arguing with him and both of you shut up.  Oh, and the reason your child is so fat is that every single thing in your shopping cart is processed.  Maybe that’s affecting his attitude.

Just a few things … I’m sure there will be more to follow. 

Once again, to denounce rumors that I am angsty and angry, I LOVE RAINBOW AND BABY SEALS!!  J