A boy I know.

There is a boy I know who is sweet and helpful and funny and smart. He loves his family very much and does his best to take care of them and be there for them when they need him. This boy is artistic and polite, creative and caring, hilarious and thoughtful, all at the same time.

As you may have ascertained, I think very highly of him.

Unfortunately, this boy has an awful lot on his shoulders at the moment. From my perspective, it almost seems as though he is the adult of his household, and things are sometimes expected of him that shouldn't really be his responsibility. He appears to be expected to take care of things that he shouldn't be, or blamed for things that are not his fault. His family is working through some issues now, and I really feel like he is getting a lot of flak and unnecessary stress from everything going on around him.

Of course, I know very little about the situation, as I am not involved. I could easily be wrong -- and I am most certainly biased -- because I don't know the situation other than what I have seen recently with my own eyes. I want this to sound like a disclaimer, because it is.

All I am trying to accomplish here is to let this boy know that I am one hundred percent there for him if he needs someone to talk to, or just lend moral support. I will not ask questions that don't need asking, I will never judge, and I will always lend an ear, arm, or shoulder without hesitation. He has many other wonderful friends, as well, and I'm sure they would all do the same.

I just want him to know that I will be right here if he needs me, and there is absolutely no need to apologize.

Life is...

There are a million words or phrases you could use to complete that sentence: shit, being alive, death, art, makin' babies, consciousness, yadda yadda. I wrote today that I think life is "just a series of let-downs combined with a perpetual hope that the future will bring something better."

If you think about it, doesn't that make sense? Especially for 20-somethings in lower middle class suburban New England like myself. Got a new job that it turns out you hate? No worries, you'll get a better one eventually. Really like someone but find out it's pretty unlikely you'll ever have them? Oh, whatever, someone better will come along.

Is this existence? Is this really what it's supposed to be? You just constantly strive for better things, better jobs, better boyfriends or girlfriends? Then what, you have kids and strive for better things and lives for them?

I'm not sure I see the point in any of it. What if there isn't anything after this life? If there's nothing to look forward to, why bother with anything at all?

What if there is something after this? Is it just a pointless circle that you go around and around forever and ever? Or is it like Buddhism's Nirvana, a state you only get to after you have perfected your soul throughout your many reincarnations?

If there's an ultimate goal... what's next? What comes after that?

I guess I'm having a mini-existential crisis. I've had a real one before, and let me tell you, that was not a good time. I'm pretty sure that's why people commit suicide.

Have you ever seen the early evening, post-rain glow of a cloudy sky? That light makes me feel lonely and nostalgic, but it's not really a bad feeling. I'm calm and relaxed, and I don't mind being alone, but it makes me yearn for all the things and people I've lost. The people others have lost. What kind of life is this, where we just lose those we love and move on?

I can see my brother's picture on my nightstand, and I can almost hear him trying to reason out answers to some of my questions. I know by the end of it, I'd have my hope renewed all over again, and wouldn't have another dive into the world of Nihilism for a couple months. He was always good at that.

I do apologize for the dismal post, but hey, it's my freakin' blog.

Some things you never, ever cared to know about me

I don't try to fool myself into thinking I have a blog audience here. If I did more to promote it (on sites like blogcatalog.com, maybe), I probably would. Really, though, it's just a place for my to vent and occasionally send a friend a link so I don't have to explain something again.

On that note, I've been reading Rura and Miss, a pretty awesome little blog about a pretty awesome little lady. She likes to keep up with blog trends and the like, so I've decided to steal '100 random things about myself' (her first half est ici) from her because I'm bored at work.

Here goes.

1. I have an unnatural obsession with cats.
2. I also have an unnatural obsession with my bangs - they have to be straight all the time, or I'm angry.
3. I seem to have a penchant toward being obsessed with things in general.
4. My obsessions are usually short lived, but I don't think it ever goes away, just switches from thing to thing.
5. I'm just realizing how hard this thing is going to be.
6. One of my big toe nails is always, inexplicably cracked. It doesn't seem to go away and I find this weird.
7. I love my car.
8. My car is actually my first car ever. It's a maroon 2001 Dodge Neon.
9. I only got it last May, when I was 21.
10. I didn't get my license until I was halfway to age 19.
11. I've been in countless car accidents, but never while driving.
12. My mother and my high school friends were/are terrible, terrible drivers.
13. I get really, really angry at bad drivers.
14. My high school sweetheart was a good driver!
15. He was from Washington (state) and claimed that Massachusetts is the worst driving state he's ever been in.
16. Everyone in my office is awesome.
17. I have a secret crush on my boss.
18. I want a new job because this one doesn't pay enough (though it is easy) and the long commute sucks.
19. I don't want a new job because I don't want to tell my boss I'm quitting.
20. Harvard, MA is a very lovely town.
21. Sorrento's is a pizza place in Harvard that makes the best pizza I have ever had. My friends agree.
22. I hate rain because it makes my hair frizzy and wavy.
23. I love the sun.
24. I get A LOT of sunburns. I will likely have skin cancer not far in the future.
25. I drink much more often between May/June and September than I do any other time of the year.
26. I'm afraid of heights.
27. I have a weird, debilitating fear of large objects in water. It's hard to explain. Shows on the Discovery channel that go deep into the ocean to explore ship wrecks make me cower away from the television. Titanic was a horror movie for me, with its underwater iceberg shots and sinking and all. I'm even afraid of big rocks in the lake.
28. I really, really hate icebergs.
29. I have just learned that, according to this spellchecker, 'est' is a word.
30. I use dictionary.com all too often.
31. I use thesaurus.com when I'm writing and I can't think of the particular word I want to use there.
32. I believe women begin to display their crazy around 3 months into a relationship.
33. I really hate files at work that have an obscene amount of pages. Especially when they all say the exact same thing, or nothing important or relevant. I have to enter them anyway.
34. I know all the words to the Habanera in Carmen. I used to think it was spanish, but it is french.
35. I don't know what a latte is. Nor the difference between the kinds of drinks at Starbucks.
36. I've never been interested in cigarettes. Never even curious. I'm not sure why - I always want to try everything once.
37. No actor will ever be better than Simon Pegg in my eyes.
38. I like to pretend I don't ever want to get married or have a baby.
39. I just got a really strong craving for strawberry ice cream, and was surprised (and a little confused) to find I associate it with my mother.
40. If I say that I'm on a diet, it means I'm not eating any food for as long as I can manage - usually a few days.
41. I'm very bad at resisting temptations, whether it be food, sex, or procrastination.
42. I'm both lazy and very active. I wish there was a word for this.
43. I really do believe that, in general, I am awesome. Awesome friend, awesome girlfriend, awesome person.
44. I also have very, very serious self-worth issues, which seems illogical coming after number 43.
45. I develop crushes SUPER easily, but I only pursue those that I really am impressed by.
46. I'm incredibly impatient and hate waiting for anything (I want what I want and I want it right now). This results in lots of impulse buys and spontaneous ideas and plans.
47. I do not mind waiting for the boy I am pursuing now. He's amazing. I really want to know how his lips feel, though.
48. I'm 95% sure that he is interested me.
49. Regardless of number 48, I overanalyze everything, so I go back and forth when we are not hanging out. Sometimes, I'm sure he does (then the issue is why hasn't he made this crystal clear to me yet? Because I dated his friend?), and other times I'm sure he doesn't (he doesn't seem to try too hard to make time for me).
50. I drive myself insane in my own head, and I hate it.
51. I love all my friends so much. They are the funniest, nicest, smartest, and best people I could ever hope to know.
52. I want to move to the south for two reasons: Southerners are much friendlier and kinder than northerners, and rents are half the price.
53. I have a repeating trend in my overall contentedness. I latch onto a new interest or passion, which makes me happy, but over time, it descends until I am miserable. Then, I find something new, and I'm happy again. I need a job/hobby/trend that I can be passionate about to be really happy. I sometimes wonder if I have mild ADD.
54. I get scared thinking about what will happen if I run out of new things.
55. I like fast, upbeat music. A Wilhelm Scream is the absolute best for that.
56. Hardcore is my favorite, but I also listen to everything else, and sometimes that embarrasses me.
57. I get very annoyed at people who think hardcore is like death metal. Hardcore is short for hardcore punk, assholes. It's not growling or ridiculously technical guitar riffs or double bassing -- it's a faster, heavier form of punk.
58. This one's gross -- my current mouthwash, ACT mint fluoride rinse, leaves an aftertaste that reminds me of the way my mouth tastes after kissing someone who has been performing cunnilingus.
59. I am bisexual and think women are beautiful creatures, but I'm not a big fan of the vagina itself. I think they're weird-looking. The clitoris is awesome, though.
60. I really, really miss a girl I dated the summer before last. It's been 2 years, and I still miss her. She stopped answering my phone calls ages ago, and to this day won't answer my MySpace messages. I'm sorry, Armeny. You were great and I was stupid.
61. I like taking showers at night so I can straighten my hair the next day without having to blow dry. I hate blow drying.
62. I find marijuana to be a huge waste of money and time for me. It just makes me tired.
63. Once, I had some really good stuff and seriously thought I was going to float off into the sky. I asked my friend Mike if I could hold onto his arm.
64. I actually really liked my job at the Texas Roadhouse before I started serving. Serving sucks. But I was making $11 or $12 an hour as a To-Go Host. Super easy job, very fun atmosphere. I wish I hadn't quit. They would probably take me back, but I am much too prideful to try.
65. I hate being talked down to or patronized. Few things make me as angry as quickly.
66. My last boyfriend pretends to be unemotional and uncaring, still refuses to say he ever loved me (after 2 years), and claims that he hates everyone and wants to be alone -- but he's jealous that I am interested in someone else.
67. I do not feel bad because he was the one who chose not to resume the relationship after I came out of the three month depression following the loss of my brother.
68. My tongue piercing might have been the best decision I've made in the last several years. I love it so much.
69. Seeing this number still makes me laugh. I'm both mature and unbelievably immature at the same time.
70. Shows and songs about sex (like Californication and 'Closer' by NIN) turn me on. TLC's 'Red Light Special' makes me feel sexy.
71. Most kinds of touching with someone I'm interested in turns me on, including arms brushing, hugs, hand-holding, and the like.
72. I really, really like when men touch or kiss my neck, when they grab my ass with both hands, or when they press me up against something. I like aggressive men because I know that they want me, but I also like respectful, gentle men. I know, it's confusing for me, too.
73. I like animals more than I like people. I would most definitely save a dog over a human (anyone get the reference, there?).
74. I disagree with the concept of organized religion. People can believe whatever they want, but I don't want to hear about it. Too many people use it as an excuse to hate or do stupid things. I like that it gives hope and can bring people together, but it's definitely no good in the hands of the scared and stupid.
75. I try to give my significant others their privacy, and get really annoyed when they don't show me the same courtesy. DO NOT go through my phone or computer. I don't have anything to hide (usually), but it's incredibly rude and uncomfortable. And you don't trust me, which pisses me off.
76. I also believe I have been taken for granted in the majority of my relationships. I also find that once I leave, they tend to want me back, which is puzzling.
77. I have a lot of trouble not thinking about this boy I'm currently pursuing. He's just so awesome in so many ways. I swore I would never date another smoker, but it doesn't even bother me with him.
78. I don't do much work at work (clearly). Again, love my boss, but I just can't take it seriously.
79. I still live at home, and I'm not ashamed. When I have a good salary job, I'm all about my own place, but for now, rent-free is the way to go.
80. I'm an expert at waiting to go pee. I once held it for three full hours. I know it's not healthy, but it's so god damn annoying when I'm trying to drink a healthy amount of water.
81. I don't really think I'll ever write a novel.
82. I'm scared of thunderstorms, sharks, bugs, bees/hornets/wasps, car accidents, being in Worcester late at night, and an assorted jumble of things that I'm always surprised to find that I'm afraid of.
83. I'm also very jumpy. Loud noises and quick movements are frightening to me.
84. I think I like redheads. But not what are they called gingers.
85. My ex's brother is the sexiest redhead I've ever known. The new boy is about a half step behind him, and much sweeter.
86. I've always liked the idea of a steady, 9-5 job with a desk and a computer. I've always wanted to put pictures of my friends and family on my desk. I got a new lamp and a framed picture of my brother for this one.
87. I hate finding out people are ticklish, because then whenever I want to touch them, I tickle them. I know it's annoying, but I can't stop myself. This occurs mostly with non-touchy feely types - it's the easiest way to put my hands on them and get a response.
88. I think sitting on a couch and watching a fire in a fireplace while it's snowing outside would be the most romantic, relaxing date ever.
89. The hardcore show in March was one of the most exhilaratingly fun things I've ever done.
90. I really like snowboarding, but I hate the cold, so I don't go often. I always get really strong urges to go in the summer.
91. I like talking about myself. It's a terrible trait to have. I also talk to myself an awful lot.
92. My grandfather nicknamed me Squeaker when I was a baby. He claimed I made squeaking sounds in my sleep. It is my favorite nickname to date, though I can't remember anyone ever using it.
93. I think it's hilarious when people use the strike tag to cross words out. I also didn't know how to do it until I tried it in number 84.
94. I think suffocating/drowning or burning to death are the worst possible ways to die.
95. I think if I was pregnant, and ever had a miscarriage, I would probably not be able to handle it. Same with if I had a baby or child that died.
96. My friend Mike's lakehouse in summer is my number 1 favorite place of all time. Purgatory Chasm State Reservation in Northbridge, MA is my second favorite.
97. I love any food that involves bread, cheese, or a combination of the two. Also, pasta.
98. Chewing gum is much easier than I thought (I was afraid it would stick to the piercing or something). I'm a chronic gum-chewer because I'm paranoid about my breath.
99. This didn't actually get difficult until right now. I told you I like to talk about myself.
100. I'm very bad at concluding things.

Sorry that was so crazy-long.

I miss my brother.

Is that a Corona, Matthew?

Those of you who have been around for a while will remember my post a few months ago. Well, for some reason, tonight has been particularly hard. It's just so unfair. At his wake, they said something about him being in heaven now, that God had decided to take him back. You would think this all-mighty "God" figure would've had the foresight to realize that I need Matt much more than He does. What does a deity need with a 24-year-old kid? Maybe He knows my brother was the coolest, funniest, and most intelligent 24-year-old there ever was. Well, maybe He should stop being so damned selfish and give him back -- there are an awful lot of people down here that miss him and need him and would give anything just to see him one more time. Maybe people should just stop telling me that things happen for a reason -- what reason could this have happened for? Nothing good has come out of this; I dare anyone to tell me otherwise.

Yeah, I know what's coming. "Oh, you'll get through it, and you'll be stronger, and you'll appreciate life more-" and blah blah blah bullshit. That's hardly worth anything, even if it's true. I wouldn't care if I was the weakest, most unappreciative little bitch in existance -- at least I would have my big brother to take care of me when I lost it, and love me even when I was being stupid. It was unconditional, you know. Sure, sure, lots of people say they love unconditionally, but that's rarely true outside of parent-child relationships (and even then, there are cases where you wonder; would someone be neglectful of or abusive to a child they loved?). But my brother always loved me, even on the rare occasions when I got on his nerves, even that one time in the woods behind the house when he punched me in the arm (I think he was about ten at the time).

It's really frustrating to know that there's nothing I can do. "But you could volunteer or donate money in his name, or-" Blow me. That's not what I mean. I don't want to just remember him ("Remember him for the good things, not-" Jesus Christ, fuck off), I want him back. Memory isn't good enough. It's my fault that we didn't see each other more over the last few months he was alive -- I never put it out there, I just let him come visit me at work, or suggest that we do this or that. Okay, so I took him out once. Okay, so I invited him out once or twice, but he had to work or was already otherwise engaged. We didn't know that we didn't have all the time in the world, did we? Does anyone?

I guess, if anything, I can take solace in the fact that I seem to have progressed through another stage of the Kubler-Ross model, i.e. the five stages of grief. I think I got them mixed up, though. They're supposed to go like this:

1. Denial: The initial stage: "It can't be happening."
2. Anger: "Why me? It's not fair."
3. Bargaining: "Just let me live to see my children graduate."
4. Depression: "I'm so sad, why bother with anything?"
5. Acceptance: "It's going to be OK."

Personally, instead of going 1-2-3-4-5, I think I started in 4, moved to 1, and have now evolved into 2, with one foot still over the line in 1. I'm definitely angry, but I was whispering to myself about how he can't be dead just a little while ago.

I almost want to say sorry for the emotional post... but then I remember that it's MY blog, and anyone who doesn't like it can eat me.

Conflict of Interest

Please do not ask what's going on in this picture -- I don't think I'd want to explain even if I could.

Okay, so by now, I think it's pretty obvious that I'm a bit of a tomboy. I'll certainly admit it without hesitation.

To the left is a picture of me from this past December, at a party Bob threw for his brother. I am holding the Christmas pig, whose wing was later broken. It was a tragedy.

Anyway, the point of my rambling is to point out how I am dressed here. Jeans and a long-sleeved tee shirt (which was not actually mine, hence why it was a little over-sized for me). You can be sure I was wearing sneakers underneath it all, too.

Skipping along...





Here's a picture of me from two summers ago. Note the Volcom hat, ONeil boardshorts, and Vans sneakers (please do not note the black bra -- I don't know what possessed me to do that). This is the style I ultimately prefer. I know it's not the most figure-flattering, attractive outfit, but I'm not aiming to look good; I just want to wear what I like.




So for my new job, I'm supposed to wear "smart casual." I cringed when I heard the phrase. I like doing cross-sections and comparisons, so here we go:


What I like.........................What they want

One more, just for fun, and because this amuses me, if no one else:

Good.........................................................Bad

You see my conundrum, don't you? Dressing nice is lame. Why go out and spend hundreds of dollars on nice clothes, when you can get something comfortable for like $50? I guess I'll just never understand fashion. Or people.

Oh well. You do what you gotta.

Have you ever...

Have you ever stood back and taken a good look at yourself, at who you are, at what you've done and your motives... and been absolutely disgusted to find that you aren't who you believed yourself to be?

In that moment, shock does what it does best and time seems to stop. In this impossible, physics-breaking eternity, you take a good, hard look at yourself. Did you really just do that/say that/make that decision? Why, why would you do that? That's not at all like you.

Well, let me tell you what happens next. You get angry. Not the typical someone-else-just-fucked-my-significant-other angry, but a burning, deeper anger. A helpless anger. There's no target to lash out at, no one to aim your rage at. There's only you. If you're anything like me, that's probably the scariest place to be, alone with yourself. Most people are far from kind with their own person, and when there's no one else to blame, there's only you, naked and unable to hide.

This is not a pleasant view. I suppose it differs for everyone. For me, I just saw a scared little girl. She was cowering, though there seemed to be no overt threat. Just afraid of everything, I guess. Afraid, perhaps, because she was weak.

In high school, my friends always used to insist that I needed to learn to stand up for myself, to learn to say no. “Jamie,” they would say, “if you don’t want to do it, just say so. That’s all you have to do.” I never really did learn to do that; I still feel the need to make up excuses whenever I’m not inclined to say yes.

I wonder if that works the other way, too. I rather think it does. If I want something, all I have to do is try. Well, why wouldn’t anyone be capable of that? I always thought I was. It seems, though, watching that little girl tremble and hide her face, that I am not.

Ever watched something important slip through your hands like water? Most likely. Now, have you ever watched something slip through your hands like water… after you purposely spread your fingers? All you need to do to keep the water there is form a cup. So why didn’t you? Why didn’t I?

The question, “Why?” is probably the hardest to answer. You can try to reason with it all you want, but it doesn’t go away. Not until you figure out the real answer. The real answer is generally the most painful one, the one you try to push away, to keep buried. You don’t want to see that answer. It has the potential to reveal something about yourself that you don’t want to be shown. You’re happy not knowing the truth – ignorance is indeed bliss.

Even now, I don’t really know why. Why I’d rather just give up than pick up a god damned phone. Why I can’t just put more effort into something I really wanted. Why I ultimately decided to let go, rather than fight for something I know – have always known – would be great.

I suspect that that little girl is flawed. She’s flawed, and maybe she puts her face in her hands because she knows I can read it in her eyes. She doesn’t want me to see it because I don’t want her to show me. No one would. Coming to terms with something that will surely cause you to lose faith in yourself is hard. It’s tough to realize that you’re disappointed with yourself, as a person.

Is there anything more discouraging?

A Glimpse into: the Life of a Waitress

As you may have seen on my profile, I work in a restaurant.

Now, the food industry is not for everyone. It's very stressful -- the work is fast-paced and people are really, really demanding. Some people aren't going to tip you well no matter how hard you work. Some people will go so far to tell you how great you were, that you're the best server they've ever had, and they're so grateful... then you get to the table to find a shitty eight percent tip. Some people think ten dollars on a hundred-dollar bill is an amazing tip! Hell, some people know you were great and know they're stiffing you, and just don't care.

But really, that's the gamble you take in this business.

Just to add a personal story in for everyone's amusement: I was working the lunch shift today and was sat with a party of two. The girls looked to be about eighteen, and one of them was rather large. Not monstrous, but clearly a big fan of food. This actually encouraged me a bit, figuring they would get appetizers as well as dessert to go with their meals (and I was right).

I greeted the table and immediately sensed dislike radiating outward from Chubs. She answered all my questions in a flat voice and acted as if it was far to much effort to actually tell me what she wanted, that I should be extricating it all from her mind somehow. In short, she was a bitch.

Anyway, I bit my tongue and stopped myself from pointing and drawling, "Faaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaat," and eventually managed to take the orders for their appetizers and dinners. Apps came out fine, it was Chubs's dinner that was the problem. Her baked potato didn't have enough -- are you ready for this? -- didn't have enough butter. The two huge scoopfuls buried under the mounds of cheese and bacon weren't enough! Are you fucking serious, lady? You're going to die at the ripe old age of 28 from cardiac arrest when one of those chunks of butter gets lodged in your artery. And no, I won't feel bad.

Long story short, I gave the cow her extra butter, and everything else, including the giant brownie dessert, came out fine. I was courteous, I was quick with refills, I was on the ball. Still, at this point, I wasn't expecting more than a twelve percent tip, max, regardless of the forty dollar bill the two had racked up. So finally, I brought the check and to-go boxes over, thanked them as usual, and tended to my other three tables. Some time later, I picked up the plate they had placed over their money and...

Three dollars. Wow. Didn't even break ten percent. That hurts.

Another thing many people don't know (or just don't care) is that waitresses literally live off their tips. No joke. We get paid $2.63 an hour, usually just enough to cover the taxes the government takes out of our paychecks, and sometimes we still owe money at the end of the year. Because of this, people who tip like shit are essentially letting their waitresses go hungry (of course I'm exaggerating here, but really now).

Conclusion
To all you people who have ever tipped below twenty percent to a good waitress: eat me.