"What Planet Is This?"

Well, I'm starting to finally get in a better mood, though I'm still not entirely sure why I was so depressed/moody all of last week. Perhaps it was the change in the weather, or the fact that I was only able to run like twice (legs were killing me, and weather was not permitting), or maybe just a bunch of crap happened right at the beginning of the week that colored the rest of the week in shades of gray, black, and other murky neutral tones.

Anyway, in the finest tradition of my rants, I'm gonna make fun of stupid people, because they're so damn plentiful and make it too damn easy.

The first person I want to attack/berate/make fun of is this guy who writes for the school paper. I won't mention his name, because it's not really pertinent, but suffice to say he's got high ideas of himself and a low opinion of anyone who disagrees with him. He's also an English major, so I think that might have something to do with his basic pompous nature.

Well, on Friday last, this guy wrote an article for the paper advocating paying the student athletes for all the hard work they do. Because the full scholarships, room and board, and special perks (like having someone like me available to proofread their papers for them) aren't enough. Because having their books provided, laptops loaned to them by the school, and receiving a free education isn't enough compensation. No, since this guy maintains that student athletes have to work twice as hard as regular students to maintain decent grades, and since he believes most student athletes think they'll go on to play professionally (even though [1] he admits that only about 1% of them will and [2] most of them don't actually think that, except for a lot of the football players), we ought to give them monetary compensation. Basically, he wants to pay them for having delusions of grandeur.

If the school's gonna do that, I want them to start paying me because I think I might be able to become a syndicated cartoonist someday, or at least be able to live off my comic (and hey, if I can convince them to pay me, I will be able to, just as the student athletes would be professional ones if they were paid. That's sorta how "professional" is defined: you get paid to do it). The idea is actually rather perverse, I thought, and I was offended down to my very soul by the idea.

Hell, here's an idea--why don't we get rid of all the student athletes and just hire professional athletes? We wouldn't have to give them room and board, or provide them with the academic center, or pretend we're interested in educating them like we do the student athletes (because I'm fairly certain most of the coaches and administration at this school are only paying lip service to the idea of "they're here for education." They're really here to bring the university lots of money). It's the perfect set up; all it lacks is common sense and a healthy dose of reality.

That was rather therapeutic.

~chaos cricket

Song of the Moment: Yoko Kanno & the Seatbelts, "Space Lion"

"What's Up Sweetcakes"

Do you ever wonder why people sometimes feel melancholy? Why sometimes we're depressed for no reason? Why does the weather affect our moods? If it's sunny outside, we tend to smile more, or if it's dreary and gray, we feel blah and under the weather (no pun intended...I don't think). There's something about late fall and into winter that makes you want to stay in bed all day, not move, not face the outside world. It makes me not want to jog, or leave the apartment until at least my birthday. By the same token, nasty weather (such as rain or snow) always makes me want to move. When I'm restricted to the apartment because of the precipitation, it makes me want to defy that, to go out and go somewhere. I always want to take a road trip when the weather's at its worst, because logic and common sense dictate that I ought to bunker down and wait for everything to blow over.

I was flipping through my photo album this afternoon, looking at the pictures of my friends from these recent years. Looking at all the smiles, all the good times, the moments captured in 3" x 5". It's funny, but most of the pictures are from the last few weeks of school my senior year and graduation, both mine and the one from 2003 (when several of my friends graduated). There aren't many pictures from the four years I actually spent at the school, just from the last few moments I was there. I think that's a part of human nature--while we're in the middle of something, we don't ever think of it ending. In a way, I thought I'd always be with that group of people at Ozarks, that nothing would ever change, that we'd always be there. When it dawned on me that this wasn't going to be the case (I tried to deny it up until about two or three weeks before graduating), I attempted to hurriedly collect evidence that I'd been there for four years, tangible memories and memorabilia to commemorate my time at that place with those people.

I graduate from OU in about seven months. In the almost year and a half that I've been here so far, I've made some rather close friends, people whom I don't want to let go of. And I have nothing tangible to show that I've known them so far, no physical evidence that they've been a part of my life except the occasional faint smile I wear on my face when thinking about them. I need to find my camera. I need to correct this inequity.

~chaos cricket

Song of the Moment: Yoko Kanno & the Seatbelts, "Ask DNA"

"Lyrics Jam #1"

Random lyrics I'm making up off the top of my head...enjoy.

Everything's fine, we're all alright, we'll survive
We're probably all just in denial
Can't accept the truth of our reality
We don't cry 'cause we can't stop the smile
The whisper of an endless dream
An echo of a thought
Striving for things we don't understand
Trying to be what we're not
Swallow your empty, meaningless words
Swallow foolish pride and vanity
Face the facts of your inevitable demise
And look towards the coming calamity
My mind is stretched broader than the horizon
It can accomodate all of existence
Wave a magic wand at my life
Erase the pain and resistance.

That ought to be enough of that for one day.

I find myself worn out lately, like I've been stretched too thin across too many fronts. Maybe I should take my lesson from the Germans and not fight wars on two fronts, metaphorically speaking. I feel almost transparent, as though someone could look through me and see out the other side if I weren't wearing clothes (don't worry, I don't plan on running around naked anytime soon...not as cold as it suddenly is). I'm trying to do too much, I guess, but that's where it's odd--I'm not really getting anything accomplished, it seems. Quite the predicament, really.

I guess you could classify this as some sort of psychological cry for help. I tend to think of it more as a cry for alcohol and a good night's rest.

~chaos cricket

Song of the Moment: Electric Light Orchestra, "Easy Money"

"You've Got A Lot Of Nerve"

I feel like a fake sometimes. Like I have to continue smiling and joking while things fall apart. Like I have to fiddle while Rome burns. "Outside the dawn is waking, my makeup may be flaking but my smile still stays on," as Freddie Mercury croons. I'm stressed by a dozen little things at once, but I feel almost obligated to continue laughing and cracking jokes and being the clown of the world, sans stupid wig and custard pie. But why? Who gave me this job, this role? No one but myself, though now I feel as though it's expected of me. It's like once people accepted me in the role of humorist and fool, they couldn't accept me in any other role. I got typecast by reality. Admittedly, it's a role I feel very natural in, and I enjoy making people laugh. But it also kinda limits me. Whenever I feel down or upset, it's almost like I can't express that, because it doesn't meet everyone's expectations.

So I force the humor, even when I don't feel like being funny. I do it for the benefit of others mostly, but I guess it's also for my own benefit. I've always used humor and laughter as a defense mechanism, and years of being picked on in elementary and junior high school helped me form a wit and sense of humor that's quick and occasionally very barbed. Admittedly, I didn't express most of my thoughts or comments when I was in those formative years; rather, they remained unspoken. But in those years, I developed the sense of humor I have now--a little sarcastic, a little wry, a little odd. When I got into high school and actually started speaking up, it surprised many of my old schoolmates. Which I enjoyed--taking them on in a battle of wits became enjoyable, because most of them entered the contest unarmed in comparison.

In a way, the humorist part of me is self-created, self-imposed. I want to be the funny one, the guy everyone thinks is humorous and entertaining and a proverbial hoot to talk to. I want to have energy and wit and exuberance. But I don't want to be so two-dimensional, so flat. There are other aspects of my personality. And hell, sometimes I just feel depressed and shouldn't have to keep making with the funny, right? Admittedly, I don't want to be depressed as often as I was (for ridiculous reasons, it seems in hindsight) as an undergraduate. But I don't think I can maintain some sort of manic energy and always be upbeat and funny. It just doesn't work that way.

There was a reason for this rant, a very good reason, and now it all seems pointless.

~chaos cricket

Song of the Moment: Bob Dylan, "Positively 4th Street"

"I Gave Her My Best Kiss She Gave It Back Again"

I retook the GRE this morning up in Oklahoma City. It's been almost two years since the last time I took it, back on December 26, 2001. At 8:00 in the morning. Eight o'clock in the morning the day after Christmas is a hell of a time to be taking the GRE. Noon on Halloween is much better.

I've basically spent the day in isolation. Since I took the GRE this morning instead of working, I didn't see anyone from work (including coworkers and athletes). I've seen people in the bank, the GRE testing facility, and on the road, but I really haven't had any conversations with anyone. I haven't smiled at anyone today, though I did laugh at some of the stuff my father said over the telephone earlier this evening. But a phone conversation just isn't the same. All the friends I'd have hung out with this evening had prior engagements--either dinners, get togethers with other people, in Arkansas or some other distant state, or attending parties I wasn't invited to or wouldn't be comfortable at. So it's another solo Halloween, just as last year was. That's okay, though--I watched anime instead, and now I'm going to go work on grad school apps (almost got 'em done, thankfully).

The sad thing is, I really need to sort of prepare myself to deal with a lot of isolation. Come May, I graduate from OU. Come August, I'll (hopefully) be attending a university in some other state: either Missouri, Virginia, Ohio, or Wisconsin. I don't really know many people in any of them (I know one person in Missouri, and a few in Virginia, but the person I know in Missouri doesn't live anywhere near St. Louis, and I'm not even sure if the school in Virginia would enable me to pursue my teaching goals). The fact of the matter is, I'm going to be heading off for parts basically unknown in less than a year. Not only that, my discipline is such that I probably won't encounter many people on a social basis. Sure, I'll see people in classes, I'll see people in whatever apartment complex I live in, and I'm sure I'll even get to know a couple of them. But will I be able to form the bonds I have at Ozarks, or even here at OU? The only reason I know most of the people I know here is because I met them through an old high school friend or I already knew them (mostly because they were former Ozarks students like myself). I've only met one person here who is completely unconnected to anyone else I knew prior to coming here, and I work with him. We were sort of thrown into a situation where we had to interact, and it just so happened that we got along and there were circumstances allowing us to just sit around and chat aimlessly for hours, discovering we had quite a bit in common (and that I amused him, something I apparently do quite well for many people).

The fact is, I don't really make friends that easily. It's not that I'm not a friendly, easy-going person, or difficult to like, or anything like that. Part of it is that I'm an introvert, and my basic response to meeting new people is to either withdraw into my shell or make quiet, wry comments until the person laughs. So far, I've basically gotten by on the skin of my teeth and by dint of the fact that several of the people I've met are extroverts. I can't always rely on either factor.

And as I said, my discipline is one which lends itself to isolation. We research, we study, we read, we attend class, we write papers. Historians are actually quite boring people. We don't have much time for socializing, and I've noticed that virtually every other history grad student around here is rather...dour. Somber. Maybe they're just really focused on their discipline, I dunno. But they strike me as rather self-absorbed, unaware that there's a world around them, and too wrapped up in making sure they know everything they can about history that they don't care if they have friends or not. I like history, but I want something outside of it for when I get tired or bored of battles, names, dates, and religious controversy involving people who died three or four hundred years ago. I want living people with energy and life in them.

I guess what it all really boils down to is that I'm afraid to move on, afraid to change. If I can stay in the situation I'm in, where I'm familiar with it and comfortable, then I can continue to feel safe and secure. I can remain happy. But if I change that situation, if I move to a new place where I'm unfamiliar with my surroundings and with the people, there's always the chance I won't be happy there, that I'll be very unhappy. Sure, it's a pretty stupid and irrational reason to not want to face change, to not take a risk, but no one ever said irrational fears would make sense. That would make them rational, and a rational irrational fear is nonsensical, thus being very irrational in and of itself. But I digress.

Ultimately, I think what I really want to do is take all my friends with me, drag them along wherever I go like a security blanket while I suck on my thumb. I know I can't do that, and that even though we'll be in different places we'll still be friends, it doesn't make dealing with it any easier, I guess.

~chaos cricket

Song of the Moment: Tom Petty, "Crawling back to you"

"As I Went Out One Morning"

As I was walking to work this morning, I inexplicably started thinking about all the girls I could have had if I'd wanted them. I know that statement sounds rather prigish and egotistical, and maybe this whole post will come across as nothing more than a ridiculously misogynistic rant about how I'm only loved by those I don't want. I don't really know, guess we'll just have to see.

But to return to topic: I can't really explain why I started thinking about this. I think it all started when I downloaded an old Credence Clearwater Revival tune last night, "Someday Never Comes." My senior year, I met a girl (who shall remain nameless because I feel like keeping some things private. Those who know her will recognize who she is, and that's fine. The rest of you don't know her anyway, and knowing her name won't do you much good) who loved this song. I'd actually never heard it before, though I thought I was fairly familiar with CCR (or at least with their two Greatest Hits collections, and this song was on the first one). I'd never heard the song, but loved it. It's taken me this long just to be able to find it to download. So downloading that song probably got me thinking about her. She was a nice girl, and I found her very attractive. She had a few problems, mostly stemming from the abrupt end to her relationship with her ex-fiancee (breaking off a relationship right before you get married does that to a person, I think). Anyway, I met her at a time when I was very, very interested in someone else (a friend of hers, actually), and had eyes for no one else, you could say.

I remember a night. Not necessarily a pleasant night, but a night nonetheless. Both of these girls were in a state one could call inebriated or, to be more accurate, piss drunk. Somehow, it had fallen upon myself and a couple of other girls to take care of these two. The girl I was interested in was completely passed out by the time I'd carried her up to her bed. The other was not. She was still wide awake, and in something of a state. And she asked me why I didn't think she was good enough for me. And I hated myself for not being able to like her, for liking someone else who would have nothing to do with me, and just for being the idiot that I am.

Time marches on, though, and she's married now and, for what I know, happy. The other girl is engaged to be married. Come to think of it, a lot of girls I was interested in or who were interested in me at one time or another are engaged or already married now. I must be behind the times.

But the whole incident that night revealed a facet of my personality that I still don't fully understand. I tend to go after the girls who are, for whatever reason, unattainable. I don't know if I like the chase, or secretly think that I'm better than I really am, or what the deal is. But I tend to fall for the girls who won't have me, while a perfectly wonderful girl is standing right in front of me, beating me in the head with subtle hints that they wouldn't mind going out with me. And I never catch it, because I have no head for subtlety (note to the ladies: most men can't catch subtlty. Be as subtle as a sledgehammer, it's your only hope to get through our thick skulls and the thicker cloud of self-interest we're usually wrapped in). So I sit and mope, and some girl I'm totally unaware of goes unnoticed, and the girl I'm after finds some other guy. That's the usual pattern, anyway. There are variations, but not many.

I don't wish any of the girls ill will, though. Even the ones who wouldn't have me. Hell, especially them, it seems. I have a tough time thinking ill of anyone for not wanting me. I'm a study in contradictions: I think very highly of myself in some regards (I think I'm a decent writer, funny, and maybe even sometimes charming), but I also think I'm not very attractive physically, and that belief creates a sink hole for self-esteem that I collapse in to every time. I think it's probably self-defeating--I don't think I'm attractive, so then I'm not attractive. Or something like that. I also tend to think the girls who are attracted to me could do better. I mean, what is there about me that deserves someone who actually likes and adores me for who and what I am? I don't have to work for anything in that sort of relationship, which is probably ultimately why it'd be dangerous for me to enter one of them. If there's nothing for me to work for, if I don't have to earn someone's respect day after day, I'm pretty sure I'll get lazy, self-absorbed, and stop trying. That's no good for anyone, including me, and especially her.

There have been other girls before and after that incident, but it stuck out in my mind as a sort of obvious representation of my whole situation when it comes to relationships. Like Vizzini, it's like I won't take that which is in front of me (bonus points if you catch the movie reference). It's probably a highly specialized form of stupidity.

~chaos cricket

Song of the Moment: Bob Dylan, "Idiot Wind"

Welcome

Hey all, and welcome to an experiment. An experiment in what, you ask rhetorically? Or maybe you don't, I don't know. This is a chance for me to ramble. That's really about the extent of it. I wanted someplace with more freedom and flexibility than my rantspace over at Dim Bulb, because though the rant space is fun, it's very difficult to edit it on the fly. This seems like it'll be easier, and maybe Adam won't accidentally delete my posts here :).

The other thing about the blog as opposed to the rant space is freedom of topic and tone. At Dim Bulb, I feel that I have to be funny, or at least vaguely entertaining. I don't feel such an obligation here. I think I can have the chance to be more...complete, more realistic. Admittedly, what is written here will still be shaped by the fact that I'm aware I have an audience. That's sort of how things work--I have this need to perform, but I don't want to be pigeonholed as a one-note joke, as it were.

So anyway, this'll be a chance for me to more fully express myself. Besides, everyone else seems to find these things so bloody fascinating, I thought I'd give it a shot (we mostly have Dav to blame for it, honest, though I doubt I'll be anywhere near as eloquent or profound as his Live Journal is). Maybe you'll enjoy this, maybe you won't. I don't know, and don't honestly care that much. This is for me; you just get to peek in.

~chaos cricket

Song of the Moment: Counting Crows, "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby"