Amazon Sucks

I will admit fully to just looking to vent with this post.  Amazon has been pissing me off lately, and I felt like coming to my online audience, who is coming up on 1,000 on WordPress alone and talking to you about it.  Seeing if you have had any similar problems.  In the age of online convenience, it never ceases to amaze how inconvenient it all can be.  The worst part is that there is no recourse for the average consumer.  It’s all being handled by computers and people hundreds or in my case thousands of miles away that I can’t do a damn thing about.  Because they don’t care about the average consumer.  They really don’t.  Plenty of online personalities I follow on YouTube talk about what a brick wall that is, but the other online platforms are no better.  Let me prove it.

So, I got robbed on Christmas Eve.  No joke.  Someone came to my sealed apartment building, to a package that Amazon left outside my door, and stole it.  How do I know?  Because I saw the evidence that they disposed of outside in the ashtray outside the building.  The loathesome human being just ripped the package open and left the contents in there.  Needless to say, I was livid.  Beyond livid.  I wanted to find this person and rip their guts out and put their head on the front of my car the way hunters do with deer.  I can think of a LOT of people that deserve that treatment, now that I think about it.

Immediately I filed a complaint with my apartment building.  My thought was – why couldn’t the USPS guy have just left a slip in my mailbox instead of leaving the package outside my door?  It was Christmas Eve, after all, and I had places to be.  Specifically places that weren’t there to be.  I got a response the next day of business that blew my mind.  See, I have Amazon Prime, for reasons that I’m starting to question.  At first it was great to not have to pay shipping on lots of stuff, but now I’m seeing the downside.  And Amazon has a policy about stuff that is sent from Amazon locations and not independent sellers in respect to USPS.  Their policy is that they can’t just put a slip in your box.  They HAVE to leave it outside of your place of residence.  There’s no room for negotiations.

Needless to say, I was pissed.  So, since Amazon has this stupid-ass policy of having to leave packages in unsecure locations, they assume the liability for if the package is stolen.  So, I went to their website to see how I could get in touch with them about a refund.  And let me tell you – their website’s Help section is the biggest pain in the ass ever.  They have no section for if something is stolen.  You can type it into their help menu, and it just tells you to wait a couple days.

So then I decide – this is pointless, how can I get in touch with a person?  I have a right to a refund, and I want to talk to somebody about that.  Finding the talk to someone link is also annoying, having to sift through their endless un-Help(ful) section to find an option to speak to someone on the phone or via chat.  I picked the chat option.  To the credit of the person I was talking to, they only fed my corporate jargon for a bit before actually approving my refund.  All’s well that ends well?  Not really.  I still have to face the reality that if I want to order something again from them, I get to pay the gamble of if it gets stolen or not.  Nice work, Amazon.

Then tonight, Amazon’s wonderful customer service decided to strike again!  See, I have a class for college that I am attending again to get certification for medical coding and billing.  First class for this new mission, and the cost of textbooks is obscene.  Figured I can rent it.  That was far cheaper.  Everything was going smoothly, until I got to check-out.  Been using the same payment method I’ve been using for ages.  Never been a problem.  Except this time, they won’t take it.  Why?  Because they demand I get a card that has an expiration of at least 07/2019.  What?  Are you fucking kidding me?!  I decide to go back and see if I can get Help on this  Their un-Help(ful) section tells me nothing.  So again, I decide to just cut out their website’s bullshit and talk to a person again.

Got a dude tonight, and he told me this is the official policy of the store.  For insurance purposes, they have to have a card that doesn’t expire until more than 45 days when the textbook has to be returned.  You have got to be fucking with me.  So, they are saying that I have to go to my bank and get a new card, then go back on there and do this whole process over again.  And by the time I do, I can guarantee that the textbook will be gone.  After all, business is closed on Sunday, and I have work from 8 to 4 tomorrow.  And my bank would have to send me the card via the mail anyway.  This is such bullshit.

What’s the moral of this?  All stories have to have a moral, right?  The moral is that Amazon fucking sucks, but because everything is a fucking online monopoly, they’re the only game in town.  I’d say fuck them, but the shit I want is cheapest with them, so I’m stuck with the pricks.  Brilliant.

Until next time, a quote,

“Some mother-fuckers are always trying to ice-skate uphill.” – Blade, Blade

Peace out,

Maverick

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Lucien’s Christmas Message

I know I said my retro review was where I would be putting this year’s Christmas post at, but I was recently inspired by a heart-felt Christmas message I saw.  Something to know about me – I get hit with sudden bursts of inspiration all the time.  It happens, and when it does, I feel pretty great about it.  In fact, those little moments are the ones where I have done some things that are beyond anything people expect, and when I feel the most satisfaction.  I’m a weird juxtaposition of a man.  I am INCREDIBLY introverted, but the moments when I feel the most legitimate satisfaction with my life are when I am making those people who put up with me smile and feel happy.

There probably isn’t a word for what I am.  At least, I like to think so.  With almost eight billion people on this tiny planet, I’m sure there’s some psychological spectrum that I fit into perfectly, but I legitimately like to believe that I don’t.  This idea that I am able to be quantified as a person and just shoved into a neat mold has always bugged me.  That isn’t what I want to be.  That isn’t how I want people to view me.  And unfortunately, with so many, that has been.

I have a religious extended family.  Very much so.  Some of my biggest arguments this year came from me and them going at it about stuff that I know deep down we will NEVER see eye-to-eye on.  They are old and set in their ways, and at this juncture in their lives, nothing is gonna change that.  It’s just how it is.  But you can’t tell them that.  At least, they didn’t listen when I tried.  They tried to put me into their mold and fit me into a nice stereotype about a non-believer that they get from Christian movies and entertainment and the ideological echo chamber that they live in.  It bugs me, but there’s nothing I can do about it.

Right now, I’m listening to some absolutely amazing Christmas music by the Mormon Tabernacle Choir.  I’m not even slightly religious, but I can appreciate the beauty of this music, and the dedication it took to make it.  I think Mormonism is a cult that was started by a con artist who couldn’t keep it in his pants.  It’s part of why they are so desperately trying to walk away from the whole polygamy thing.  But when I tell people that I find this music beautiful, if they are believers, they assume that means there is this part of me that does believe, or if they are non-believers, they think that means I am secretly a little religious.  It’s not true.

This holiday is always hard, for me.  I have depression as a result of brain damage after a head injury.  It is something I will have to live with for the rest of my life.  I have a hate-hate relationship with snow.  I despise it.  It brings out that very worst in me.  My coworkers were legitimately shocked at my blind hate of it and how I didn’t hold back in my loathing when they brought it up to me.  Winter, in my eyes, is about the long dark nights, the white shit that falls from the sky and is a complete pain in the ass, and the length of this time of year.  In a few years, after I get vested in my union job, along with finishing my education for medical work that I want to get into, I’m looking to head south from this place.

But I’ve started a new tradition.  I make these Christmas treats, and when I get to hear from people about how good they are (it shocked me how good I am at this, and I’m only getting better), it really does make it all better.  Anytime I can do something to help one of my people, my life feels like it has meaning.  When I can say something nice to make someone smile, or give someone at work who did something special a Favorite Person of the Day tag, just so they can feel better, or joke when they make a silly mistake with a Shame Tag, it makes my life that much better.

For whatever reason, I am a master of meshing with people.  I was asked to take a workplace picture of everyone in the office wearing their tacky Christmas sweaters, and I made it into a big joke, messing with everyone and making people laugh.  Sure, my manager joked about firing me, but everyone left there smiling.  It’s so strange, to me, that I can have this gift, yet the one person I can’t make feel better is myself.  But then I remember, this is brain damage.  It’s just how it is.

Here’s my Christmas message – don’t forget about the people in your life who are afflicted.  One of the hardest things for me is when I have to deal with people who just don’t understand.  I get told day in and day out that I’m not trying hard enough or I just don’t want to be happy or something to that effect.  Both of which are blatantly untrue.  It’s easy at this time of year to push aside those who suffer from this kind of thing.  Everywhere I look, I see posts about getting rid of negative people.  But sometimes, the person you see as negative is the one who has the most for you, and would be able to give the most and get the most from knowing that there is someone who cares.

There are no Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present, and Future to make us realize that we are not giving back to the world as much as we could, or living life to the fullest, in a way we should.  That’s up to us to be able to discern.  The worst part is, in the Age of Apathy, it may be the most forgotten lesson humanity has taken.  I guess I’m preaching now, but remember that sometimes, the negative person is just looking for someone to care.  That they might want to give back, but feel neglected or disillusioned.  That doesn’t mean to put up with someone being a jerk just to be.  But keep an open mind.  The guy at work who sees snow falling and scowls may be someone who has a lot of ugly baggage attached to is, but isn’t the bad underneath it all.

Anyway, Merry Christmas to you all, and I hope you have the best holiday you can, with family, friends, fur-babies, or even with yourself.  But I hope not just you.  Humans are genetically written to be pack animals.  Remember that.

Until next time, a quote,

“Please, celebrate me home.” – Kenny Loggins

Peace out,

Maverick

What I’m Thankful For This Year

Normally I do this post on the day or day before Thanksgiving, but I gots me an idea for an actual Thanksgiving post this year, and I do have some stuff to talk about with this post, so I figured I’d break tradition a little.  It’s been a long year.  A lot of things have happened, making my adult life that much more complicated.  My Year in Review post will be pretty interesting.  But there are a number of things that I want to give thanks for.  Despite what corporate America believes, I think that this holiday is about giving thanks for what you have, so let’s get down to it.  Here are the thing that I want to give thanks for in 2018.

Getting a New Job

I cannot tell you how hard it has been making just enough to scrape by.  With new expenses coming into my life now that I fully own a car of my own, and had some serious shit go wrong with said car (and still have to get my shocks replaced in the spring), along with Uncle Sam fucking me over because I am single and don’t own property (seriously, this world is so rigged against single people.  It’s infuriating), my finances took a massive, massive hit.  It nearly crippled me.  For so long, I was desperate to get a new job, that paid better.

I’ve been fighting against going up the ladder in my own office because for the longest time I didn’t want a caseload of my own.  However, since all my efforts to escape have been in vain, I decided it was time to nut up and just do it.  I mean, if I’m gonna be stuck here, might as well be earning that sweet cheddar, right?  With that in mind, and since every supervisor has been begging me to do this because I am that good at what I do, I finally applied.

The wait was interminable, but I finally got the job!  Almost to the point of seeing the first paycheck with partial caseworker cheddar infusion along with my old wages.  Not to mention overtime pay, because every time there is overtime, I am on that like stink on cheese.  A half day on a Saturday at my office and now I can’t imagine what I will be bringing home.  Signed up for more next month.  Christmas might come a little later, but I’ll take it.  Man did I digress.

Getting this job is a massive bump in pay, and with my plans to go back to college to get my CPC for medical coding for when I leave this state, this pay raise is going to get me so very far.  It’s a great thing, trust and believe.  I couldn’t be more thankful.  If I hadn’t have gotten this job, I honestly was scared of what was going to happen.  My finances were in the tank.

My Parents

This one is almost obligatory.  Given how much they have done for me over the years, to not include it on the list would be kinda heresy.  I acknowledge that there were some bad years, especially with my mother, but now we have hit a stride where we are more like chill friends than parent and kid, and it works.  In my family, it’s all about sticking together.  Who else will support you if they won’t?  Granted, there are limits, as an extended family member found out after suing me.  You don’t do family that way, not in this lot.

While I have been financially independent for two years, even when my finances were in trouble, I didn’t ask for money, they still do a lot for me, and I have to be very vocal of my thankfulness that I have parents who are like that.  I have friends who don’t, like a girly-mate whose family disowned her after she was outed as being gay when she was a teenager.

Both my folks are getting older, and the reality is that there comes a point that you have to start looking at the inevitable.  I’ve always known that between my sibling and myself, the one who will have to do the heavy lifting looking after them is me.  I’m together, moving up in the world, and can manage my own life.  Common sense isn’t as common as you’d think.  I’m glad for all the time I have with my folks, even if we talk to each other like we’re always bickering.  It comes from a place of love.

My Navy Girly-mate

If you had told me the day we met, at the office where we worked together before she shipped off to basic, that I was meeting someone who was going to change my life in so many ways, I don’t know if I would have believed you.  Her and I have had our ups and downs.  There was even something that happened that nearly nuked our friendship entirely.  Took me having to seriously work to set things right.  But here we are, two years later, and she’s one of the best friends I’ve ever had.

There is so much about her life in the Navy I could learn about.  I have hung on every word when she talks about it.  I always wanted to serve myself, but after a head injury that killed me and the back of my head having to be replaced with government plastic, that’s out, along with contact sports and fisticuffs.  So I will admit that I am partly living through her experiences as I hear of them, but it’s been something so engaging.

Plus, we get one-another.  Our antics together are just the best.  We are perfectly on one-another’s wavelengths, I can give her shit and she can give it to me, we just work as a duo.  This friendship is new in my life, but so long as there isn’t some kind of major disaster in the future, it could become a defining relationship in my life.

Other Friends, Old and New

There are some new people in my life.  New employees who started out in customer service at the agency I work for, just like I did.  I’ve become something of a mentor to all of them.  There is a reason I can walk into that room like a rock star and have them coming to me regularly for advice.  I take some pride in that.  These friends are different kinds of people, and some of them mesh with me better than others, but so far it’s proving to be an interesting experience.

Meanwhile, there are some old friends who I have been able to keep in my life who are so important to me.  One friend who occasionally comes to dinner.  Some people think that men and women can’t be just friends, and she is living proof that that is not true.  We are 100% platonic and perfectly fine with that.  It’s great to have someone who I can talk to, and who is comfortable talking to me.

Then there is a friend who is very far away, and I miss them every day.  The adventures we had, the times we spent together, and our nights together seem like a distant memory now, but we keep in touch and there are some genuinely touching exchanges between the two of us.  I wear the bracelet she got me every day.

My Site

This website is almost 10 years old.  It will be in August of next year.  I’ve had this place going for 10 years.  That’s just baffling, to me.  To think that I’d be some nobody with his own website that people continue to read after 10 years.  I have almost 900 subs on WordPress alone, and it grows all the time.  That many people have chosen to keep what I write open to their viewing, and some comment regularly.  Don’t think for one second that I take that for granted.  You all and the reactions I get to my work are what keep me wanting to write on here.  Plus, it’s a great outlet.

Going back and looking at my early work, I do cringe a bit.  But that’s the great thing about a site – you can grow and evolve.  And if more people come and fewer leave, that means you’re doing something right.  You’re putting out content that people think is worth their time.  Plus, with so many WordPress blogs out there, to be this popular, minuscule as it is, is a real privilege.  Thank you all so much.

What about you?  What things are you thankful for this year?  Let me know in the Comments.

Until next time, a quote,

“I love fall.” – Hobbes, Calvin and Hobbes

Peace out,

Maverick

The Places That are Mine, Where I Lived

I’m not talking about houses.  I’ve never owned property.  Given how shitty my luck is with finding jobs and financial success, I probably never will.  But I was watching a video by the YouTuber Anime Abandon.  I’ve often talked about how I get ideas from other people.  Does that make me a plagiarist?  Not whole-sale.  I take ideas of others and offer my own spin.  Since there isn’t a single thing that is truly original anymore, I don’t think too long on it.  In his video, he talked about a video rental store that just recently closed in California that was his childhood home.  Where his love of anime and old childhood memories of sleepovers were associated.  It got me to thinking.

Over the course of my life, I’ve lived in a lot of places.  In each of those places, there are the memories that are associated with them.  The places that felt like my own, to one degree or another.  Not that I felt I lived there, but that I felt the most comfortable.  Wait, that’s not right.  How do I put it.  You ever have those places where, regardless of where you are, it is where your memories are associated?  Like if you live in a house and you have a tree fort that you spent a ton of time in?  It’s like that.  So here we are, and I figured I’d talk about the places from where I’ve been that felt like mine.  Maybe it’s telling that I haven’t had a house I’ve lived in after the second from my childhood that feel like mine.

When I was really young, the place I most associate with that time was my Grandma’s house.  She and I were incredibly close.  A maternal figure in my life.  It helped that I was not a fan of the grandmother on my mother’s side at all.  We butted heads almost routinely.  But when I think of my grandma’s house, there are so many good memories associated with it.  Her and I talking about whatever.  I would go on about whatever random thing, and she would listen.  Kinda like my old man does, even though I know he isn’t much for it.  He took a lot from her.  Probably we get along so well.  That’s not to say my mother and I don’t.  It’s just different.

All the memories, of my time there.  Visiting my grandpa, who was in his basement.  The man was a chronic alcoholic, and his health was abysmal because of it.  Living on disability checks from the VA, he was kept cozy.  I would often go and talk to him.  More often than not, he’d be outside.  He would just sit in his chair and be in the sun.  Or he’d spend hours mowing the big lawn they had.  I could tell that was one of his favorite things to do.  Groj knows, their lawn definitely benefited from it.  It looked immaculate.

There were also the memories of my time with my brother from another mother.  He was like a brother to me.  In reality, he was my cousin.  All the time that he and I would be in the back room, playing pretend.  Good memories.  From the days before he stabbed me in the back.  Wish I could hold on to those days.

The last thing I associate with that place is the first girl I ever loved.  She moved in there, and I would always go and see her.  When we were younger, I could go up, watch our favorite childhood show.  We would talk about nerd stuff, jam out to 90’s music, listen to these new age CDs that she had that I still listen to to this day.  Time went by.  We grew up together.  One day, I started to notice that she was becoming a woman.  It didn’t slip past me how beautiful she was.  Thus began the tragic story of how much I loved her, but could never tell her.  In hindsight, I wished I had.  To Hell with the consequences.  You only live once, after all.  The thing I would most change, if I could go back and do this all over again.

Upon moving away to the old family homestead that my parents bought after my mother’s family had to move because they couldn’t handle a three-story house at their age.  There, the places I found I most gravitated towards were the lake and the field.  The home was a lake.  There are a ton of memories from where I would go there when I was very young.  I have always had shitty balance, so I flopped out of the boat onto the raft like a fucking beached whale.  That puts a smile on my face.  Memories of when her and I were on that raft, just the two of us.  I wanted to kiss her so bad.  But I never did.  Why not?  Questions that have no answer.  That never will.

I could wander down to the lake, or through the field, and let my mind and imagination wander.  But more than that, there was the mowing the lawn.  Surprising, I know.  But Sally had me get on the riding mower because this place also had one hell of a big lawn.  I was damn good at it, so I would take my time.  It never stopped being enjoyable.  So many stories that played out in my head.  Getting to ponder whatever fiction I wanted to.  Making and destroying universes, all in my mind.  So many of my big idea documents on my computer can trace their origin back to those days on the lawnmower.

After high school, I started out in a local community college.  That place became something of a port of mine.  Often I would walk around.  Then there was a time when I was really tight with a girl who worked there.  She was a student worker at the library, and virtually every day I was there, I would drop by and visit.  Even with how it all ended, and the fact that she hates me now, I still smile at the memories.  Makes me so angry at how the whole thing ended, because if she had just come and talked to me, I know that we would have worked things out.  Like so many people in my life, she kept all her anger at me bottled up, and now it’s done.  Still, those were good days.  When I felt the world at my fingertips, and all the people in my life with me.

When I was in state college, the place that was mine was the walk around campus.  I walked absolutely everywhere.  Didn’t drive anywhere on campus, if I could avoid it.  That was pretty much always.  I can only think of one or two times that I absolutely could not walk to where I needed to go.  Hell, I’d walk to events on campus.  The reason I would do that is because I lived in the dorms.  The walk was always really nice.  Jamming to my favorite tunes on my iPod and getting a little time to let my mind wander.  Noticing a pattern?  The places that are mine are the ones where my mind gets to wander and go to myriad places.  Where my creativity can take shape and fly.

My first apartment had no place like that.  The neighborhood was unsafe in the extreme, and I didn’t trust anyone in there.  But I was living with someone I was dating, and that satiated it.  Her and I could talk long into the night about whatever.  She loved to watch me play games and we could watch movies and make fun of them.  So many good memories.  Just like all the loves in my life, it’s from another existence.  Memories that have no home.

Then there was my second place.  My last apartment sucked.  It was a shit-hole.  But there is one thing I miss.  Because I was having difficulty finding a job (a story that has never died in my life, even when I already have one), I got cooped up in there.  So what did I do?  Easy – I went for walks.  The one I miss there – the hospital.  That was my daily walking route, and I loved it.  Every single day, without fail, I would go around it.  The place is pretty big, so my route never felt short.  In fact, it kept growing as time went by, and I decide to extend the walk.  All those days, during the warm and breezy afternoons of summer, and dark and bitterly cold days of winter.  Even with all of my problems, it was a warm memory.  A good walk, too.

Which brings me to now.  I’m in a much nicer apartment, yet it doesn’t feel like home.  I have a walking route for when I’m not at work.  At work I take multiple walks a day, but it’s always centered around my job.  I don’t feel like that’s mine.  Well, not completely.  The people I hang out with there and the good times we have are awesome.  Makes that I have to leave to find a better job that much more frustrating.  To have to go from an awesome job because of financial need just pisses me off.  That’s not how life should be.  But then, there are a lot of moments like that, in my eyes.  Still, there are no places in my life currently that feel like mine.  When I leave her, nothing is going to stay with me.  It’s all just going to slip away.

All those memories.  So many of them are from places that either I’m not there anymore, or they aren’t there anymore.  My grandma’s old home has been completely remodeled from the ground up.  You genuinely wouldn’t recognize it anymore.  The house on the lake is owned by my uncle now when my parents sold it for the same reason my mother’s parents did.  My apartment is now probably being rented by some undergrad like me.  My first apartment is a shithole that I won’t think twice about.  The second home I lived in, which felt like a place I could call mine was sold and then totally fucked up by the people who lived there.  The vast lawn we had, the garden my mother grew, the beautiful brick walls in front of amazing flowerbeds that merged with the upper tier lawn that my father spent so long making and my mother maintained so studiously are overgrown with weeds.  It kinda broke my heart when I took a couple pins and broke into the joint after those people had to sell it.  To see the empty halls of my youth, decaying.  It made me sad then, and it makes me sad now.

I’ll never get to go back to that back-room, or when that girl moved down the big basement room and we jammed out.  I’ll never get to be next to her on the raft after we went swimming.  I’ll never get the opportunity to tell her how I felt when it really would have meant something.  When the truth finally got out, we already were frayed and it was abundantly clear that that damage was already done.

What are the places in your life that you have memories attached to?  Let me know in the Comments.

Until next time, a quote,

“Nothing is completely safe from being lost forever.” – Bennett the Sage

Peace out,

Maverick

Being Nice Sucks

You know what I miss – the days on YouTube where everyone was ripping the shit out of everyone else.  When someone had dumb ideas that people were all over them tearing apart their arguments piece by piece and making sport of how stupid they are for believing in that crap.  Those days were great.  Now everybody is kissing everyone else’s ass.  Everybody has to be nice.  Everybody has to be understanding.  It sucks, and drives me up the fucking wall.  What makes it worse is when you have people in real life that say something patently stupid, but you can’t take them to task for it because you have to be fucking nice to everyone.  It’s the cornerstone of professionalism, and it drives me right up the fucking wall.

Today I got into this conversation with some coworkers about anti-vaxxers.  I made a point that I think that if someone refuses to vaccinate their children, they should have their kids taken away because they are an unfit parent.  I still hold to that.  But a couple of my coworkers immediately jumped to the whole “to each their own.”  No!  Let me explain something to you – my ability to punch ends at your face.  The second my fist hurts someone else, I have violated their rights.  It is the EXACT same principle here!  If you don’t vaccinate your kids, you aren’t just hurting your kids!  You’re hurting the children who could potentially get in contact with your children and get serious diseases because you didn’t vaccinate.  Like a baby who is too young, or a kid who is immuno-compromised and get get vaccines.  That child is at risk because of your stupid-ass decisions.

Their reasoning was that some people had a reason.  For one of them, it was a family member who didn’t do that because of their faith.  Are you fucking kidding me?!  So, other children should have to be at risk because of some Bronze Age bullshit that a grown-ass adult only believes because they are indoctrinated with that crap as a kid?!  Because no RATIONAL adult believes in a magic man in the fucking sky!  That’s the crap you believe as a kid!

There’s a man with a white beard who knows what you do all the time, and he knows if you’ve been bad or good, and if you’re good he gives you presents on Christmas.

Oh, I’m sorry.  I confused Gawd with Santa Claus.  Their stories are so easily interchangeable.  And both make about as much sense when you say them out loud.

But I can’t say shit!  I can’t call them out for their stupid-ass beliefs about people who are doing real harm in the world and why we can’t just take the “to each his own” approach to this.  When we’re seeing the rates of diseases that we’ve vaccinated against on the rise in this country, and more and more children getting sick, the principle I described above most definitely applies.  But they’re my coworkers, and I have to be nice.  Even if their beliefs on this issue are fucking stupid and need to be seriously examined.

Everywhere you look, it’s just you having to suck it up and be nice to every goddamn person everywhere because otherwise you get in trouble.  It’s professional, after all.  I probably have a lot of coworkers who think this way.  People whose intelligence I reasonably respect until I hear crap like this.  Then I have to accept that they have these working parts of their brains, and the parts that they turn off for whatever personal reason.  To turn your intellect off.  The cornerstone of American society.

You can’t talk about nothing with nobody.  Everything has to be filtered through a censor with everyone.  I’d say fuck that, but my own rational brain that actually works told me to just go out for a while and come back.  Otherwise I would have torn their stupid ideas a new one, at which point I’d be in trouble.  The curse of being born with a ton of common sense.  Now here I am, wishing I could go back in time and pick that fight because their ideas are stupid on the face of it and somebody needs to fucking tell them!

Maybe that’s how common sense works.  When you accept other people’s stupid ideas and just go about your day because the alternative is worse.  And that’s why being nice sucks.  Because the only way it works is if you kiss everyone else’s ass all the fucking time.  Unless you have enough money to be able to tell people to fuck off.

Like this morning, I am waiting for the elevator to get to my job.  There is this woman there with me.  The door opens, and she just rushes inside, even though there was someone about to come out.  How fucking rude!  But I can’t say anything.  I wanted to.  Wanted to look that bitch right in the eye, with her prissy attitude and expensive clothes, shoes, and handbag, and say, “manners cost nothing, you know.”  But nope!  Just kept quiet and thought that this is why people across the world think that Americans aren’t civilized.  You know, because we’re not.

All I want is to be financially successful enough to tell people what I really think of them.  Over the weekend I told a family member what I think of her, and it felt fucking great!  She is such a bitch to me that being able to tell her off was just the best.  All she ever is is a complete cunt-rag to me.  After our parents’ die, and we get through probate, we will likely never speak again.  Fine by me!  Let our familial connection die out and we go our separate ways.  Will save me a lot of headache.

In the end, I just want to be the jerk that everyone claims I’m not.  I don’t do good things because I want to!  I do them because I feel like it would be a bigger inconvenience if I didn’t!  Like when my aunt was at the hospital and stayed with her while my uncle was in surgery.  If ANYONE else had shown up, I would have left!  I hadn’t eaten dinner yet.  I was hungry and wanted to go home!  My being there at that time was a fucking accident!  And she had to pile on the fucking hero worship after that.  It pissed me off.  Just acknowledge I did something nice and move on.  Just a simple thanks, and we go about our day.  But no!  Down the road, she sees how negative I am online and gets so pissed because she took that initial interaction is what I am really like.  I was a LOT meaner than I should have been when I lost my cool about what happened that night, but it needed to be said.

Being an adult fucking sucks, and I am sick of it.  Sick of everything.  Sick of being alive.  But there’s no other option.  I don’t have the guts to take the quick way out.

Until next time, a quote,

“You gotta kiss some serious booty to get ahead in this world.  Man, that’s what I’ve been trying to tell you.  See, I like to take the one-knee approach.  It puts the booty, like, right in front of the lips.” – Capt. Jimmy Wilder, Independence Day

Peace out,

Maverick

RAB: The Nature of This Medium

I have been writing on this website since 2009.  This website of mine has been my baby for over nine years.  I remember the first thing I wrote.  Back in the days when I wanted to be a legit journalist, before realizing how dead the medium has become, I went to the rally that was had as a response to the Glenn Beck/Sarah Palin event in my city.  It was a perfectly civil event where you had people with signs, slogans, and all-around quirkiness all over.  For the days when liberal protests were known for their civility, and not their violence.  How far we have come.

Covering that event was fun.  I met a ton of people, some of whom still recognize me to this day and say hello on the off-chance that we run into each other.  Some of them became part of my circle going through college.  None of those who went that route are in my circle anymore.  For whatever reason, we fell out.

However, went I look back at that post, you know what the first thing that catches my eye is – how raw and amateur the writing is in comparison to what I do now.  The days when I was a young idealist, looking to change the world.  Yeah, I was kinda pretentious in those days.  Look me in the eye and tell me that you weren’t.  As I got this website started, I never figured that I would have an audience.  I figured that I was just languish in obscurity with only a few people reading and enjoying my perspective on whatever issue comes before me that I feel is worth commenting on.

Nine years later, I have come a VERY long way.  On WordPress alone, I am creeping up on 900 subscribers.  That doesn’t include the people who aren’t on this platform who I know follow my site.  Some of them are family.  One of them is a coworker of my mother’s, who I find out can be very strongly opinionated on some of the things I comment on, but has never left a comment herself.  Hell, my new boss follows my site!  He tells me about how much he has enjoyed my outspoken perspective, even though I know that him and I see the world differently in a few ways.  He likes the passion and the way I tend to blaze about the things that annoy me or the nerdom that I talk about on the regular.  That makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.

But I know that this medium is never going to be a big one.  There are thousands upon thousands of blogs, with the vast plethora of them being incessant drivel that nobody reads.  I know that the written word is a dying medium, and I am probably going to be one of the very last who still does it religiously the way I do.  This website has been so much to me.  It’s been where I get to rail against religion and how I think belief in a deity is an outdated values system from antiquity that has somehow stayed on in the age of reason.  It’s been where I could rail against whatever political thing comes my way that I think is worth talking about.  It’s been where I can talk about whatever nerdy thing catches my eye, rave about the things I love, trash what I hate, and rage about the politicization of my nerdy hobbies.  This place has also been a confidant of mine when life is really ugly and I am needing to get shit off my chest.

As I see what is happening to mediums like YouTube, and seeing the homogenization of new media, I think about how I am one of the people who still sticks around old media.  This format, without any mainstream appeal, where I have somehow been able to eek out this audience of people who still come and read what I have to say, even though they may not always agree with it.  And I know that there are those who have come and gone.  There is an ebb and flow to this stuff.  Every so often I’ll get the people who, for a time, hit the “Like” on everything I write, regardless of subject.  There are those who always like certain kinds of posts or those on certain subject matter.  Helps me know who I engage with most.  Even have those who come and go and comment on most everything.  I enjoy my time with all of those people, because it reminds me that there is a small, dedicated community on this page.

This really is a random assortment of bullshit, because I genuinely don’t know where I was going with this.  I guess it’s just saying that I am aware that I’m lucky, in that I have a loyal audience of people who find whatever I have to say worth reading.  This always strikes me as odd because (and this is something not many people know, until now) I have this irrational belief that everyone I know secretly hates me and can’t stand to be around me.  Yet here people are, engaging and reading and liking what I have to say.

I don’t really know what I want from life.  I have this general idea of what I’m doing, but the specifics and where all of this ends is totally a mystery.  At least in the sense of having a clear direction.  I’ve been really depressed lately when interview after interview after interview goes absolutely nowhere, and it doesn’t feel like I’m making a dent.  Hell, the first place to actually do reference checks for me didn’t hire me.  In the end, it was just about experience.  Which bugged me because I’m thinking to myself – why did they bother with the reference checks?  If it was just about experience anywhere, then why bother?  Why not just hire someone based on experience and skip the bullshit interview process altogether?

My friends don’t really talk to me when I’m down like this.  Super sick too, so there’s that.  But in general, when I’m depressed, they tend to be very distant.  I guess it gets to the point that they don’t know what to say anymore.  So better to say nothing, right?  Is that typical?  Probably.

So, as I listen to LoFi music that is to relax and study to (I’d like to thank Lt Corbis for introducing me to this stuff), and ruminate on how far I have come in a medium that is very dead in comparison to where it was, I am grateful to those of you who are still here, reading my assortments of nonsense and getting something from it.  You all mean a lot to me.

Until next time, a quote,

“From childhood’s hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.”
— Edgar Allan Poe, from “Alone”

Peace out,

Maverick

Adulthood Sucks

Decided to do a personal post.  This is about the only place I can be honest with everyone.  In my real world interactions, I basically choose not to talk to anyone, because everywhere I fucking look, it’s people not wanting to talk to me because I’m not super positive guy.  And if you aren’t blowing sunshine up someone’s ass, you are worth talking to.  That’s my life now.  Just avoiding people because if you aren’t happy, NOBODY wants to talk to you.  Everyone avoids you.  It’s just the world we live in.  Right now, I’m getting real sick of that.  Sick of life, and all the bullshit that goes with it.

I hate adulthood.  I fucking despise it.  If I got a time machine, I would go back and tell young me to savor his youth as long as he possibly could.  Of course, my youth ended kinda fast.  See, I had this head injury when I was 14 that fucked my life forever, and I had to grow up real fast.  There’s another thing I’d change.  I’d tell me not to go riding on a bike.  Just walk places.  Stay off that road.  Don’t get into sports.  Was a bad idea to start with.  I’d do a lot of things.

My rent is about to go up.  A lot.  I thought for a while it wasn’t so bad, but now that I see my new financial situation with a vehicle in my name, it just gets worse.  All of my finances are just shit, and my ability to save in any measure is pretty much fucked.  I keep running the numbers, over and over, in my head.  There’s no escape.  None.  I’m saddled with this endless cavalcade of bullshit.  It’s sucking the life out of me right now.

Had a million fucking interviews lately for jobs that pay better.  Getting real fucking tired of it, but can I stop?  Can I rest on my laurels?  I wish I could!  I like the team I’m with now.  They are awesome people.  But no!  I have to keep at this fruitless task, because a job that pays better is a requisite.  I can hear you saying – why not get two jobs?  I work 9-5, five days a week.  So what does that mean for my working?  It means I’d have to get a job I can work on weekends.  You know what that means – retail.  Because no other kind of employer only hires people part time on weekends.  With my medical issues, a job on my feet for hours on end is out.  So yeah, that’s out.

I remember thinking that when I was an adult, I could do what I wanted.  If I wanted something, since I knew I’d be working, I could buy it myself.  Christmas and birthdays would lose some of their child-like luster, but I was more and more enjoying the idea of just spending time with family.  Yeah, my list isn’t going to get any smaller this year.  Because buying things for myself is a cute idea!  Kinda like a vacation, or going to big events, or a social life, or fucking anything!

Doesn’t help that my personal life is another cute idea that died a long time ago.  I get all the ugly shit associated with adulthood, and none of the perks.  No love life.  No sex life.  No fucking anything!  Just getting up, going to work, coming home.  That’s my entire worthless, miserable life.  But you can’t tell that to people.  Because then you get the patronizing bullshit calls or something of “are you okay?”  No!  But what are you gonna do about it?!  I can’t even afford to go long distance to the family because gas ain’t cheap either!  Fuck!

I am so fucking tired of nothing working in my favor.  I’ve said it before, I’ll say it again – where can I cash in on this fucking privilege that these SJWs claim I have in such abundance?  I have white privilege, tall privilege, male privilege, and this is really a thing, smart privilege.  I guess we should extol the virtues of being stupid.  There’s an American thought for ya.  Well tell you what, who do I have to talk to in order to get all the perks?!  I will go there right now and find the nearest minority and rub their nose in these perks!  I want my perks!  Where the fuck are they?!  I have had to fight and scratch and claw and bleed to get ANYWHERE in my life!  So where the fuck can I get these imaginary perks that people say I have?!  Please, tell me where to go.  I will go there.  Today!  Right now!

Bust my fucking ass, and for what?!  So I can have nobody to talk to about why things are hard right now?!  Because everyone ignores me like the fucking plague because I’m negative?!  “Lucien, nobody likes a downer.”  Well then, I guess I get to be alone for the rest of my life.  However long that ends up being.  I take stupid risks just to feel…anything.  I have no fear of death.  Hell, I welcome it.  Am I suicidal?  Damn right!  Only difference is that I have somewhere I have to get to before I can do that.  I refuse to let my life end in this miserable apartment in this miserable city in this fucking icebox state where winter takes up seven months out of the goddamn year.

Every day I do my very best to be the best at whatever I do.  Where has it gotten me?  Nowhere.  It’s gotten me failed relationships, failed friendships, and the subtle realization that one day I will wake up and I’ll be 40 and I’ll probably be in the same goddamn place doing the same goddamn thing.  This is my life!  I fucking hate adulthood.  I would give my last 30 years to be able to go back and enjoy being a kid all over again.  Because looking at the future gives me a fucking headache.  Looking at the past feels pretty alright.

Until next time, a quote,

“‘What’s your favorite childhood memory?’ Not paying bills.” – Anonymous

Peace out,

Maverick