Does it make me strange?

I feel like an anomaly here. I feel that somehow it makes me strange to want the things I want. Everyone here wants to have fun. Everyone here wants a little money in their pocket. Everyone here wants someone on their arm. But leading to what? Athens, when you look at it, reminds me of Never Never Land in the Peter Pan story. Everyone here is younger than their years; everyone here is trying not to grow up because they equate growing up with growing old. And the few that are wanting more are left standing alone as those around them cling to their temporary and ultimately unfulfilling ways. And half the time, those few don't find each other. This town is full of people who are frustrated; whether it be financially, career-wise, or relationship-wise, they are all frustrated. When you become frustrated, it's easy to become jaded. And when you become jaded, you decide you're better off just keeping things they way they are because, hell, you're only going to be disappointed in the end anyway, right? Which means you've become bitter, but you'll say that you're not. The frustration remains;  people constantly (though maybe mostly subconsciously) craving something of greater substance but refusing to just let go and let something happen. None of us want to grow old, so all of us refuse to grow up.

But I still have this stupid hope. I'm a pessimist, I'm bitter (and won't lie about it), and I'm just as jaded as the rest of them. But I know what I do eventually want. I don't see what is so wrong with wanting to grow up. I can still be fun, and have a more 'real' job. I can still be attractive, and be committed to someone. I can still be a smartass, and be a mother. Shit, I can do all that and still share good coversation and good times and good beers with good friends and play in a band and read books at coffee shops. Because I don't think that wanting those things: a life-long partner, a family, some stability- make me an old lady. They just move me into a different phase, a grown-up phase. But not a grown-old phase.

I still have this stupid hope, this thread of positive thinking, that I can find all that here. Have the best of both worlds. I know that I'm almost 30. I know that I do want to get married. I want to have a child. I want a chance to have everything I've never had as far as family goes. I know I can do better than my parents did... How beautiful it is in my mind to wake up each morning next to my best friend and in honest true love. How amazing to be able to create a new life, both figuratively and literally, together. I am in no way bothered by the idea of being with only one person for the rest of my life, because if it's the right person, I won't need anything else. And when there are bumps, which I know are inevitable, they will be worth doing what is necessary to smooth things back out.

Yet, I look around and I feel like everyone around doesn't see the point. They don't believe it's possible. They think it would be boring. They think it makes them old. They think, "Someday, maybe, we'll see... when I'm older" when they're already halfway through their 30's. "I'm not ready to grow up, I'm not ready to be old" they say... well, what happens when all of a sudden they look around and realize they're nearing 50 and have never given anything a chance because they were afraid they would get old too fast, they were afraid of giving up youth. And now youth has abondoned them, age is advancing quickly, and no one is there to share it with them. Then they become frustrated, and then jaded, and then bitter... and the cycle continues. Then I see my father, who has made some bad choices and allowed himself to be broken down by the wrong women and he says "Who needs that? I don't need any one, people just hurt you, people just take. I'm better off on my own!". Then he goes home to the house where he has a room upstairs, in his mother's house. And he sits on the porch at night alone and finishes a 12-pack of High Life. Every few weeks he'll call me, and rehash things from the past that could have and more than likely should have gone differently; he tells me how he failed me, etc etc... and then claims he's completely happy with his life because he does what he wants and has no one to answer to. And I am sad because I know how lonely he really is.

I don't want that. I want to enjoy grown-up aspects of life before I grow old. I want to be the person that makes someone else happy, that takes away someone else's loneliness and makes sure they know how much them being in my life means to me. I want a dream, the ideal, and I don't think there is anything wrong with that. The challenge will be finding someone who wants the same that also gets along with someone as quirky as me. And the bigger challenge will be deciding how much longer I will give it before I throw in the towel in this town and search the greener pastures elsewhere. And then will I wonder what might have happened had I not run away? Will I end up settling for what appears simply because I give up thinking I'll find what I want before I'm too grown-old? Or will I search for so long for something elusive and impossible, only to miss growing up, instead to simply grow old alone and become permanently just as jaded and bitter as everyone who didn't have my dreams?

A Change Is Gonna Come

So. I'm going to be graduating from school in one week. Again. Maybe this time I'll use my degree. Maybe not. Again. Either way, I now know more specialized things that other people don't. One thing is for sure... I am done with school. I thought going back a few years ago would change things for the better, get me into a different place and get my mind off things I had no business giving the time of day in the first place (Again). But it didn't, really. For a minute it was good. But in the end, I still do think it's been one of the worst decisions of my life. Once I started, I wasn't going to quit. So now I'm done, and at the end of it all I've lost everything and am in the process of starting over. Again. I know I will never completely heal and I'm coming to terms with that. But at least this is one thing I will no longer have to worry about. Ever again.

I have stopped writting limericks at work. I have switched to haiku for the time being. The thing is, it seems few people get them. Few got the limericks unless I made the jokes fairly obvious and avoided more obscure references, but when limiting oneself to so few syllables it seems the joke is often lost completely. Besides the fact that there are many who don't know what a limerick or haiku is. But I did two haiku at work today to entertain myself. I will share my masterpieces with you... keep in mind, these are related to things at my job.

    It's a Saturday...
    OMG! MUST BUY FLOWERS!
    Life depends on it.

    Through the break-room door-
    Surprise! Fly-strip "mistletoe"...
    Don't get caught beneath!


The second one is in reference to the RIDICULOUS fly problem we now have. It got hot, it rained, and then the air wasn't on in the store. And BAM!... flies frickin' everywhere. So they've been billing out those adhesive fly-strip things to hang everywhere. Not that they work all that well- they aren't baited or anything. You just have to hope the flies are too retarded to fly right and end up getting too close and get stuck. What we all need are those handheld zappers. The ones that look like mini tennis rackets, only they're battery-powered. Those are great. Except then we'd probably all run around zapping each other. Because we are all really mature that way.

I have recently fallen in love with my front porch. A perfect afternoon consists of sitting on my front porch. A perfect evening consists of sitting on my front porch with a beverage. Hell, I'll have a beverage in the afternoon too. And a book. Though significant company would also be nice. I had a lovely afternoon about a month ago- sat all day on the porch drinking beers and playing Uno!, then Parcheesi, then back to Uno! because it's awesome. I want more days like that.

I love my backyard, too. But not as much since recently it's become a mosquito haven. I don't know where they're hiding out, but it doesn't matter what time of day you go back there. Once you're behind the house you are nothing but a side of beef for those swarms. Which sucks. Because my backyard could be really nice what with the table and grill and firepit and shade (and 'pool' if I ever want to set it up). It's still nice. I just don't want to be sucked dry those ravenous wenches.

      

How To Fight Loneliness

Just smile all the time.

Inside Looking Out

Humanity. Each day, I observe the mish-mash that makes up humanity. I see them at their most irritating, most bizarre, most self-righteous and egotistical, and most sincere and honest. And I am constantly confused. I just don't get people, no matter how hard I try (which truthfully isn't that hard; I'd rather just watch and take note than actually analyze it all). Conversely, I also see what humanity and its actions invoke within me. Often this is confusing as well, particularly when something that I should really not give more than a second's thought manages to occupy my brain for extended periods of time. But sometimes I know exactly why my reaction or thought process is the way it is. I might not be good at explaining it, or I just might not want to. Outside Looking In, and Inside Looking Out.

I hear all sorts of B.S. from people day in and day out. Mostly this stuff happens at work. People will be rude or condescending for absolutely no reason. They will walk up to me, and before even hearing me speak one word, will speak at me as if I am a young child or a dog, not an adult deserving of basic respect. I can not stand this crap, and feel that one day I will possibly not be able to hold in the verbal shock-and-awe that immediately is fired from my mental arsenal. People will also be insanely nice and polite, which makes things a whole lot better. However, there is one thing all types have in common: I see them all do some really asinine things on a regular basis. The kinds of things that leave me just staring at them, wonder what the hell they're thinking.

When people purchase custom-mixed paint, the paint associate takes a bit of it and puts a spot on the lid so they can see the color. Often times, the customer has walked off while it's being mixed so the associate just sets it on the counter for them to pick up. 90% of the time, people walk up to the counter, pick up the can, and then stick their finger in the spot of paint on the top. Then they look all surprised to find out that it's wet. It's 3 minutes old, people. That phrase 'watching paint dry'? Yeah. Longer than 3 minutes. Then of course they whine about getting paint on themselves.

Another thing they do is decide to go through Self-Checkout, and then act helpless. Like they've never used the one at Kroger before. I know you have. I've seen you there. And you know what? Not only are the directions printed on the screen, the Self-Checkout-Lady-Voice reads them to you, too! But these people walk up... "What do I do??".
Similarly, people come through a regular register. Get the total, pull out their debit card, swipe it (which means they've got an idea of the process here...), and when the number pad pops up for them to enter their PIN, they say," Uh, what's this? What's it want?" This is also generally asked in a haughty, irritated way, like instead it was asking for the capital of Nebraska. I have to hold myself back here from being a total smartass. I say, "It's asking for you PIN". And then they say one of two things: "Oh." and enter it. Or defensively "It's not debit, it's a credit card."- except the card has DEBIT printed on the front. I know the difference. I am not an idiot. You can use a debit card like a credit card and sign instead of using a PIN, but that does not make it a credit card.

The last thing to me is funny, only because I wonder if I'd do the same. People need to replace their toilet seat from time to time. Maybe they had a particularly heavy-set guest or an overly violent dump; I don't know, don't care. But it seems that unless they have written down the type of seat they need, they always buy the wrong one. Toilet seats are returned every day because customers needed the other type. There are two kinds: Round and Elongated. One is, well, round and the other is more like an oval. And no one can tell you which one they have unless they're standing in their bathroom looking at it. Which is funny to me, since the toilet is probably the one thing in your house that you see multiple times a day at regular times. If you are not out of town, you will see it at the very least once a day. Not to mention that I'm sure they've all had their head in there at least once, as well. But they have no idea.

Speaking of toilet seats: we also sell them made of plastic, wood, or vinyl-covered foam. If you are getting the padded one, I'm judging you. Those things are gross. And yet, 26% of American households use them. NASTY.

How it goes.

Still,
I think of you, baby
And how I grew old with you then.
And this summer, you'll call- maybe
And act as if we were old friends.
You'd say, 'How are you, baby?',
I'd say, 'It's raining in Athens.'

It's raining in Athens...

And to this day
I nurse the fever
That spoiled my poor heart.
And I've mastered the art of dealing,
Slipping away without falling apart.
So when this summer, you call- maybe
And ask how I've been,
I can be honest and answer plainly,
'Since November, it's been raining.'

It's raining in Athens...


-Azure Ray 

One more for St. Patty's Day...

Wrote this one today around 2:30, shortly after arriving at work. It's dedicated to all I worked with tonight, and anyone else who was imprisoned by their job until 10pm or so tonight while their friends went out and reveled.

Right now I should be drinking green beer,
Irish coffees, and spreading good cheer.
But instead, as we speak,
My Irish heart weeps,
'Cause all night The Man has me stuck here.

More of what I do at work...

Tonight my manager asked if I'd written any more limericks lately. I said I hadn't really felt drawn to any subjects lately, so he commissioned one with the subject of St. Patrick's Day. I wrote two. Here they are, in their painfully cheesy glory:

In March St. Patrick gets his own day
He was cool 'cause he scared snakes away
He's a great Gaelic hunk
And an excuse to get drunk
So Erin Go Bragh we all say!

In March St. Patrick gets his own day
Which we use as a reason to play
It's more fun than the Ides
When Caesar was surprised
I like beer, not stabs; et tu, Brute? 



And this is why I (don't) make the big bucks...