It's Saturday In Athens, Georgia!

And I am not watching football. Again.

Labor Day = Lazy Day

Have I ever mentioned how much I love Ovaltine? No? Well, I'm coming out. I love me some Ovaltine. Chocolatey malty milky goodness. I swear I could drink Ovaltine all damn day. That kid in the commercial knew what was up... he was down with it. "More Ovaltine, please!" When I get to the bottom of the jar, a part of my heart breaks. When my milk jug runs dry, life becomes unbearable. For just a moment, at least. If forced to choose between giving up Ovaltine or beer for life, I would need some serious time for consideration. And I'd probably keep Ovaltine. It's almost an addiction. Yeah. I love Ovaltine.

BREAKING NEWS: I DON'T GIVE A SHIT ABOUT FOOTBALL

Really. I don't.

I went to UGA. I went to every game for five years. Ok, that's a fib. I went to almost every game for five years. I didn't get to to go to the Aloha Bowl in 2000. And I missed one LSU game and one Kentucky game. Because they didn't take the whole 400+ person marching band to these three games and I was still a freshman and not a member of the Derbies pep band. But I went to every other game. Every. Game. I wore a uniform that was made of 100% wool, with pants that were actually overalls (bibbers is what they're called) and a thick-ass coat that generally cut off half of your breathing ability and the upward range of motion for your arms, and which was topped off with a stupid hat with a feather plume on top (called a shako) that smelled like feet. You sweated your ass off, literally, most of the time. (The bosses are benevolent, though, and let you remove your coat in the stands when the outside temperature is over 90 degrees.) Or you froze your ass off: no other coats allowed, and sweatshirts would not fit underneath the uniform. No biggie, you'll feel your fingers and toes tomorrow! Or you were wet and soggy. We had official raincoats for a bit, but they got moldy and some got lost, and after two years there weren't enough non-moldy ones for everyone, so no raincoats for you, don't worry, that horrendous 'wet dog' smell will only take 4 days to scrub off your skin.

Yup. Every game. Playing cheers that were announced by the drum major making hand signs like a baseball coach. Hearing "Glory" until my ears bled (hopefully... meant we were winning).  Having drunk 50-year-old fans of the other team call me unspeakable names and throw half-eaten chicken wings and cups of soda at me, or maybe just a 30-something, 6' 4" dude with a little boy call me a 'fucking bitch-ass cunt with a dog face' and attempt to shove me out of his way. (I stood my ground on that one and threatened to bean him with a cymbal before the drumline tech stepped in and told him to fuck off).

So you know? I like it when they win. But I don't follow it, I don't know the players' names or stats, I don't know the schedule without looking at it, and I don't get my sandy panties in a wad when they lose. UGA is not a bad team, but they've pretty much never been an amazing team. They're really good at the last-minute let-down. Been doing it for years, they have. Every now and then they pull something awesome out of their asses at the last second and someone saves the day (see Outback Bowl 1999 or Auburn maybe 2002? it rained and was freezing and we won on an amazing pass in OT), but that's a rarity. I can't understand how some people just lose their shit and seriously mope for days. It's a game, stupid. Like Monopoly or strip poker. And at least in strip poker you might actually get something that's a direct benefit to you.

I also can't understand the vitriol that is spewed in the direction of whichever coach happens to be employed at the time. All he can do is tell them what to do, he can't play the game himself or control what they do out on the play field. And he's not their papa, either. Some football player acted the fool downtown and got himself arrested on a drunk and disorderly charge? How the hell is that the coach's fault?? He's a FOOTBALL COACH, not a nanny or life coach or omnipresent god. He's got his own shit to worry about once he's off the clock. Is it his fault that Damon Evans had to hold that poor girl's red panties for her, too? Gah. How about the team just isn't perfect, and is populated with dumbass 18-22 year old boys that act stupid just like all the other 18-22 year old boys here on campus?

In other news, I went thrifting with Brandon and Josh today. We went to America's Thrift Store and Goodwill. I spent a total of $40, which normally has me freaking out. But I did get five albums, five movies (including Tank Girl and Blacula), one pack of disposable tupperware, two skirts, and four dresses. So I guess that's ok. Tomorrow we're taking a trip to J&J Flea Market. Somehow I've lived in Athens since 1999 and have never been to J&J, so I'm pretty pumped. Hopefully I'll score some neat shit.

Take your stinking paws off them, you damn dirty ape.

Fucking bastard. I know it's someone that lives around here because they are obviously watching them just as closely as I. Two more are gone just days before I was to pick them. Just like the first time. They've gotten four; I've gotten none. It's really a bummer. They probably think it's funny. I think it's mean. I thought those were the last two that were viable, but I saw today I have one that needs a week or so and two that are babies yet.

I've been trying to decide how best to make it known that I am watching for them.  I considered just ripping up all the vines and putting them in a pile with a sign that read "Here. Why don't you just go ahead and take the rest of them and get it over with, jerk.". I also considered simply putting out a sign with just a sad face or middle finger or the phrase "If I Find Out Who You Are, I Will Break Your Fingers". (The first time this happened I printed a sign but didn't put it up. It said "Yes, I noticed. Yes, I am sad. Yes, you suck.") I also have thought about being an asshole right back and booby-trapping them. Somehow. I'm not really sure what I could do to them that would keep them alive long enough to get stolen yet make them nasty or something. But wouldn't it be fun to put a sign up the day after it disappears that informs them that their new melon was mulched with my own poo?

It really pisses me off and honestly makes me sad. It's less about the watermelons themselves; I actually don't eat them much but was excited to see that I could grow something fun. I was excited to share them with my friends. So what upsets me and gets me down is that someone I haven't done anything to is perfectly alright with destroying something I made and something that isn't theirs, and they don't care enough about someone they've never met to leave just one. All I need is one. I was going to give the others away anyway. I just wanted to have the chance to do so. I am really sick and tired of being shit on by other people for no reason. I guess that's what it really comes down to. Why do people just shit on everyone else? 

For some reason I never thought about bugs just up and dropping dead like people sometimes do, but I saw the aftermath of it Sunday afternoon. My friend Brandon and I walked to the Co-op to get some brunch particles to put together. On the way back up my street, right over the sidewalk and at just about eye-level for most people, was a dead spider. Hanging from a strand of silk attached to (most likely) her leg. Just blowing in the wind. Nothing wrong, no missing pieces or dried out in the sun or anything like that. Not even crunchy yet, so it must have been fresh. Hanging there. I guess she was up in the tree limbs or the power lines, just going about her business weaving herself a nice fresh new web, and then BAM. Whatever it is that happens to arachnids when they stop living... I tried to get a photo but without a decent background couldn't get the camera to focus. We took her down, and Brandon decided he wanted to keep her. I almost felt like we should give her a little memorial, but since I never met this particular spider I'm not sure I'd have thought of anything to say.

Social Networking- Rage Fodder Extraordinaire

Seriously. I just need to rebrand this blog as a "WTF is this stupid shit on the internet" blog. I do less ranting anymore, but lots more "OMG lol Look what Facebook put online". Because it is STUPID. Yes. Stupid. Except, I suppose if only I just think it's absolutely retarded then it really is just me ranting as per my blog's promising tagline... So yeah. This is stupid:

From a glance, this doesn't seem all that bad. The stupid part is that there is a 'Like' button underneath this shit. No, I do not like it. Unless it's to support the glaring fact that Hollywood is completely out of original ideas. "I know! The 80's are popular again. Let's remake all the 80's movies! We can make them 3D! Everyone will lose it for 3D!!". Dudes... LIFE is nothing but 3D. Ain't no thang, peeps. Last thing I want to do is go to a movie theatre, pay nine bucks for a movie I've seen before (and can see anytime I want on Netflix), while not only sitting in a seat that a thousand asses have farted in before me, but also wearing some dumb glasses that make my eyeballs vomit and could possibly give me lice or maybe scabies or a face fungus. Not to mention the soda and small stale popcorn that costs a week's salary and the idiot people sitting in front of you who won't get off their goddamn cell phone. And it's cold in there. So fuck that. Adding "2011" to the end of the movie title doesn't mean it's an upgrade. It's not a car or a Windows product.

And be sure to note that this movie is "terrifying". (air quotes needed here). 

1985 called. It said "Get your grubby unoriginal paws off my campy vampire movies!" It also requests that you leave those stupid huge-framed glasses and Cosby sweaters alone, too.

"Eh, it'll do."

I do love my pets. But I love them mostly because they aren't stuffed. Seriously, WTF? 

ADDENDUM:

Ok, this one looks like it might possibly be alive. Can't be sure, it's still creepy, and could be in the throes of a poison-induced seizure or maybe it's just playing with a string that's out of frame. But still. You can't find a stock photo of a cat that's not this shitty? You just don't even try anymore, do you? 

Am I making something worthwhile out of this place?

I've been neglecting this thing again.

I sometimes feel that I'm living in some bizarro world. I never get anything done. But I'm always doing something.  A lot of times, though, that 'something' isn't anything truly productive. I keep thinking that I'll get time, but I don't make time. For what? Oh, I don't know... reading? Is that productive? Household chores? Boring, but necessary. I guess I do a lot of socializing. That can't be too bad, I suppose. It's often with the same folks; I love them, but I'm not really branching out. Not meeting any new interesting people. And I have let some other more long-standing friendships fall by the wayside. Then it comes down to that I know a lot of people, but only superficially.

Musings about your personal connections/contributions to the world and to the other people down in the muck with you generally come from some major event. Sometimes it can cause great grief to try and reshape one's philosophy after Something Has Changed... sometimes you get lucky and it comes along easily in one of those fabled "Eureka!" moments. I say fabled, as this doesn't usually seem to be the case. Sometimes you can only ponder on it and take the wait-and-see approach to determine if you will react differently the next time a particular situation presents itself.

There was such an event a couple weeks ago. I was only peripherally effected by the event itself, but the fallout has wormed its way through that outer layer to get to me more personally, and to prompt some reevaluation. Long story short: A shooting in Midtown Atlanta claimed the life of a young woman with both bright soul and bright future. She was in that stage of life where you really are just embarking on Bigger Things. She and her husband had only recently moved back to Atlanta, and had just become homeowners. At 26, she had been out in the Real World for long enough to know what is going on, but not long enough to have lost the ability to be optimistic and idealistic about where life was taking her. I had only met her once, but she was literal family to one coworker of mine, and figurative family to many others at Terrapin. While those "don't take life for granted you never know when it'll be gone/life's too short/yadayada" adages are of course appropriate and definitely part of this whole thinking on things because, well, they're true, I was more influenced by what this event did to people I care about. Seeing, yet not being able to truly understand, the level of devastation they felt was heartbreaking to me. I felt sick knowing that there were people I cared about who were hurting. I'm no good at dealing with other peoples' pain. I empathize entirely too much. I think that's a good thing. But what destroys me is that I can't fix what is destroying them.

But yes, all this has made me think. I've said many times that I know I am really good at shutting myself off from everything. I'm good at maintaining an arm's length between me and everyone I know. I'm too good at protecting myself from The Worst, and in the meantime that keeps me from getting to have a piece of The Best. This stems partially from that same fear of rejection in all of us; if someone actually knows you, they have enough information to determine if you make the cut or not. If they only know a few things, and for the most part you're a fairly decent person and not a raging asshole, then even if you don't make varsity you still get to sit on the bench with the team every now and then, maybe bring them water. No's almost always sting; Maybe's are not so bad.

Here's the thing, though. What if something happened to me tomorrow? Yeah, yeah, I know... But really, what would the outcome be? I should hope that there would be at least a few people to mourn me; drifting away unnoticed is also a basic human fear. But there is a difference- would everyone I know here be sad for a minute and then go back to normal? Or would there be some who would miss me and think of me for years to come? Have I made at least a small contribution to the life of another? Would the people I care about know how I loved them if I was suddenly gone and couldn't tell them? And what would people say about me later? If asked to say an eulogy for me, would anyone know where to start or have something of value to say outside of the few things everyone knows about me? Have I made a permanent impression on anyone and allowed them to do the same by opening up? If not, why? Because I keep myself at a healthy little distance, you know, just in case? How sad.

Last weekend a friend who's got about 10 years, a marriage, three kids, and his own business on me and I were sitting by a fire. We were talking about things like the above; how what had happened had made him want to get closer to people. Then out of nowhere, he said "Can I ask you a weird question?" Naturally I make a joke, saying "Depends on the question...". Then he asks me, "Do you ever get tired of being... of being... free?" I immediately understood that he didn't mean in the literal "America's A Free Country" sense. He was asking if I ever grew weary of my "free" lifestyle; yeah, I got a 9-5, but other than that I have no one to answer to, except three cats to feed. I get to do what I want, when I want, with whomever I want. Because I'm free. I can go out drinking every night, or turn off my phone and sit on my porch with a book. It's all up to me. I can hang out with people, or stay in by myself. It's the life a lot of people miss and say to take it while you can. He was asking because it's been a minute since he had that; he's not trapped by any means and loves what he has, but he does have responsibilities that must be attended to before playtime. But I have my freedom.

I thought on it for a second, and I realize now I didn't actually answer his question. I told him that it's just the way things are for me now, though this was never really my plan. I didn't have a plan, but I wasn't purposely trying to still be "free" at 30. I did believe in the past that I would be somewhere entirely different than where I am now. I told him it can get tiring sometimes, because when you're "free" and know other "free" people, it's hard to give them a viable excuse for not living up to your "free" lifestyle every night. Because they know that there's nothing else for you to do, may as well go out. I made a joke about it being expensive; going out costs money. I just said that while I did always envision that I'd be doing something else at this point, I'm not, so why not just enjoy it? I basically said "I'm not tired of it, but I'm not not tired of it, either" or more succinctly, "Meh".

The part I left out though... is that in ways, I am tired of it. With my "freedom", I come home to an empty apartment every day. I have no one to call and check up on me, no one to call and check up on. I have no one to share dinner at home with, or to cook for (maybe that's a good thing...), or to cook for me, or just get pizza with. There's no one here to sit on the couch and watch shitty movies with. There's no one to talk to late at night, or early in the morning, or on the weekends. Or to sit with on the porch drinking wine and reading books in silence. There's no one to get annoyed with about the dishes or laundry or empty toilet paper roll, or to annoy with me leaving my shoes all over the house. There's no one to bring me juice when I'm sick, and no one asking me to give them a back-scratch. Freedom reaches a point where it's actually just lonely. I don't view myself so much as "free" as I do "alone" anymore. That part- the lonely part... Yes. I'm tired of it.