Welcome To My Hell

My hours entail I get to work at 08:00, and stay until 17:00 PM. That means I must leave the house at 07:25 to drive the distance and deal with the Morning Rush. And then it takes roughly an hour more to get back home once I leave from work. 07:25 to 18:00…That’s about nine and a half hours out of my day for work plus the hell-like commute.

I wear all black and I have never strayed of that conviction and I will not start now. My car does not have Air Conditioning, and it is only the beginning of what will be the hottest summer in recorded history. When I get home I have to peel the shirt off my back, shower and change clothes. Then I have to wash my only two dress shirts so I won’t be out of dress code for work.

Another thing. I am quite tired of playing the platonic guy friend to a half dozen female friends. I do not enjoying being a panting dog on a leash to these women girls. All of whom think I’m trying to be cute or funny when I express romantic interest in them. It’s hurt so much, that recently I have cast a few of them aside. It hurts to not have them as friends. So many good times, so many inside jokes. But it doesn’t hurt as much as it does to suffer being the “nice guy”.

Also, I don’t know where these fuckers are coming from, but like a plague from God sent to test my resilience, there are flies getting into the house by the scores. Although I admit it is an odd skill, I am an accomplished fly catcher. I learned in O&A. I can deftly pull them right out the air almost always on the first try. In the time that it has taken me to get this far, I have caught 18 flies and released them outside. I am almost unable to return to my computer without another coming to harass me.

I require 8 hours of sleep. I just do. I have to wake up of my own accord and not by an alarm clock. I am and always will be a person who operates at night. No matter how long I work a day shift, I know I will never get fully used to it. I’ve tried it many times. And it just hasn’t worked.

Every night I am up past Midnight, begging to God to let me fall asleep so I don’t have to be completely miserable the following morning. The sick tired zombie feeling of the mornings in Middle and High School come to mind.

I am now a Software Instructor at New Horizons. The job is fine. But it is work. REAL fucking work. Do you know what that’s like? I sit at a near obsolete computer, stood atop a fold out table, and I buckle down in a hot, stuffy room for 8 hours and do what I’m being paid to do. You manual laborers wouldn’t last a day with the mind strain I’ve been exerting on myself. I’d take physical exhaustion over this any day of the week. It’s the most responsibility I’ve ever had requested of me. And I question my ability to handle it. My job is to learn new software, hardware, and certifications that I sometimes know absolutely zero about in one day’s time and then teach it to a class of anywhere from 1 to 20 people who are old enough to be my parents. I can do it. I just don’t know if I want to. (I imagine a few of my old friends from Cox went through this…)

Another turn off of my new job: I am the youngest person in the building by 7 years. Not a peer in sight. No one to flirt with. No one to accompany me to lunch. For most people, their jobs account for 80% of their social life. So far I’ve had nigh none. Granted, I can relate to and get along with my coworkers just fine. In fact, so far they are the most pleasurable company I’ve ever worked with. But I feel so out of place. Almost as if I am intruding.

I have always made friends with those who are older then me. This has been true since I was very little. But I just can’t see myself asking a bunch of married guys, who are that much older then me to go out to eat or chill at the club.

I always have said that I grew up too fast. Not because of self-reliance, but because of my intelligence. It’s only now, however, that I’m starting to see that I am missing out on the best parts of being my age because of it.

The best years of my life, and I’m missing them. One day at a time.

The first person to tell me to “Do something about it.” I shun forever. Do not tell me what needs to be done to recify the the situation! You presumptuous fuck! You have no concept of how hard I’ve worked to improve my quality of life!

That being said…

I don’t want to a job where I have to be so responsible and dedicated. I want to work a menial job in fast food or technical support. I want to get hammered and do stupid shit. I want to fuck someone and worry only about my own gratification. I want to have a stupid girlfriend whom I openly hate and emotionally abuse to keep her around for sex. She will think she loves me. I will to cheat on her often. I want to have my car impounded for illegal street racing. I want to beat the fuck out of someone for childish reasons. I want everyone to know just how badly I can hurt them if I had the mind for it. I do not want to utilize my intelligence. I do not want to be of the elite. I want to be 21. I am so tired of being twice my age. — So tired.

I know I could never intentionally do or be any of these things. But I wish I could be. Just to see how the rest of the world lives.

I want to love. Mostly I want to be loved.

I want to be pitied and I want to be rewarded for being able to admit it. For the first time in a very long time. I want out.

Â

For the love of God, someone, anyone, call me this weekend. All these burdens are in vain if they don’t some how pay off in something besides money.

Work to live. Don’t live to work.

That’s only five minutes to save the world.

I am however missing a game and a cool spinning chair. Well, one with joysticks anyhow…

This office has this smell to it that I can’t quite put my finger on. I’ve caught it in just about every cube job I’ve worked. I think it’s the dead skin cells coating the room.

And the crazy guy from my last job with that a thousand pens and that perfect orb, front ass is here. I swear he’s been following me since Cox Communications.

“RON CRAFT: “DEAL WITH IT OUR GET THE HELL OUT!”
Its becoming increasingly obvious that RMR has 0 interest in any “sport compact” type classes or vehicles at its track, Its manager

Ron Craft, and his staff have without a doubt been known to favor domestic “MUSCLE CAR” classes and owners of these cars.

After years of going to RMR and being a paying customer just like everyone else, I have had enough. and will no longer support RMR or any of its events until this is changed. THIS INCLUDES THE IDRC EVENT THIS COMING WEEKEND. and I encourage you to not support it as well!

They will gladly take your money as a import owner, only to act as if they are doing you a favor to allow you to race and have the same amendments.

YOU HAVE EXPERIENCED IT! WHY SUPPPORT IT?

Tonight they screwed up the Sport compact class, by telling the points leader and another racer that they did not make the “last call” so they were eliminated from the semifinals, in all reality, they’re prestage staff made the mistake of holding those cars back for whatever reason.

The issue was sorted out by allowing those 2 cars to go on to race, with the winner than racing the previous for the finals. After this had happened and a finals winner was decided, they changed the decision. by making all 4 cars race again.
I was unhappy with this call because I KNOW full well this type of behavior would not have been acceptable in a domestic class.

I was told to deal with it or leave, completely disrespected and unfairly treated. I WAS NOT RACING AT THIS TIME, mind you, I just wanted to be an advocate for our class, and in doing so..I was ESCORTED FROM THE PROPERTY.

Final Straw? I think so..after years of being told to move in the pits, having to park ( with slicks ) in the dirt, and dealing with the rude comments, dirty looks and general bad additude towards me, and my fellow import racers, myself and this website will no longer support RMR until something dramatic has been done about this.

I have many other stories about these types of problems, but feel free to add your own.”

Â

Rap, Hip-hop, R&B…If it was on Billboard Top 100 in 2003. I know the words. lol

Who would have thought the industrialist would dabble in things like this?

It was forced exposure in jail. It wasn’t by choice. Don’t tell anyone but I just caught myself dancing. And uh, I don’t dance. Like I really don’t dance. This is a rare occasion indeed. lol

I lied. I live to eat. That is my #1 goal. Get a house and have a significant other. That way, I will have a place to eat and someone to eat with.

So the guy (Jeremy) who interviewed me and is also taking care of the employement procedures for me, took my drivers license for identification purposes, and then doesn’t get it back to me before he leaves the building.

So it’s lunch time now, and I am stranded. Heh.

I’m indecisive about whether I should be pissed as hell because I’m very hungry, or laugh about it.

…I think it’s going to be funny at first, and less funny three hours from now when I become voracious.

And yes, I am the only one in my age bracket here. I’m the youngest instructor they’ve ever hired. I wish I could say that in a boastful fashion, but it only means I have no peers. Making friends will be awkward at best.

I’m in all honesty not thrilled. It may just be how much time I’ve had to dwell on it and let my mind wander off, but I don’t know if I’m going to like this place.

Not to mention there probably won’t be a single person in my age bracket there… :\

This was MY idea!

*sigh* Next time I think up something like this, I’m going to find an investor. :\

- If that’s the guy I lost out to, I’m glad I did. God knows where I would have been in…5 years?

- You’re right I’m not your type.

- Also, you didn’t need to be here. You were a fucking eyesore who did nothing but stand. That was premeditated and low.

- The Brutal AI on C&C3 is a bitch.

- It’s too fucking hot. This does not go well for someone who wears only black.

- My hand hurts. The fuse on that M-80 moved fast. My hand is fine, just burned. Like you cared…

- I hate masturbation. I used to like it. But now I can’t even get into jerking myself off these days because I start to feel miserable and wonder why I don’t have someone to do it for me. lol

- Too blunt? That’s ok, you like that about me. Right? :(

- Chocolate milk FTFW!

- I need to put the A/C back in my Prelude. I’d really like to not slow roast this summer.

- I don’t want to be your friend anymore because I will never get to interact with the person underneath all the bullshit. I don’t like hanging around with your “representative” if you will. I like to hang around you.

- On that topic. I hate girls who use alcohol as an excuse to act out and be the person they really want to. Why not just be like that anyway, and not worry about what people think?

- I really don’t want to go to New Horizon tomorrow. It scares the hell out of me. I’m not sure if I can do the job…

- I’d rather work some lacky job that pays $10.00 and hour.

- Heh. Why the hell was there a 1970 Fairlane in that garage? There used to be shoes…

- Marl, I’m glad we’re cool.

- I need more Chocolate milk.

Oh yeah. I also start at New Horizon’s this Monday. In all honesty I am scared out of my mind. I’m afraid I merely put on a well planned show to my interviewers. I can be the most convincing person and not have the first clue about what is being asked or discussed. It’s both a strength and a weakness.

I’m no more skilled them your average young adult freelancer. Yeah, I know the applications, and I know SOMEÂ intermediate coding. But I pray to you not to drop databases on my lap and make me teach it to 30 people twice my age! I learn fast. But what if I make a fool of myself?

I’m trying to rationalize this as the standard high expectation job that you’re not too sure you can handle, and then once you get there, it is complete cake. But I can’t quite convince myself this time. I actually believe I got in over my head.

I also prey, and I mean really prey to God, that I can get that job at Copperhills Youth Center. I would rather take the tremendous pay cut then work a job that involves these acursed machines. Computer’s are what I know, and I passionately hate them with every fiber of my being. People are what I don’t know, and I love them with all my heart and I want very badly to learn.

I’d rather be doing what I love.

Waiting for Vann to get back so I can go clean that god damned model home. It’ll be weird as fuck I’m sure.

So until then I believe I will just finish was is left of the Absolut Peach that was the catalyst to mine and Cassie’s drunken tryst. Cheers fuckers!

Heh. Back to the bottom. Nothing to do and no one to call. You all know who you are.

Fuck all of you. I don’t need you. I’ve been just fine without you so far. I need friends who can act at least their age. And the better portion of you don’t fall into that catagory.

Or on the second thought. Perhaps it is that I act way above my age. Especially considering the only friends I have behave as if they are ten years behind themselves.

I knew it! I’m a 30 year old trapped in a 21 year old’s body!

Â

Except right now. I’ve inhibited myself down to a mellow 24.

FREE uncensored image hosting by thepiratebay.org

Spread it like wildfire!

Carolyn Burnham: Don’t you mess with me, mister, or I’ll divorce you so fast it’ll make your head spin!

Lester Burnham: On what grounds? I’m not a drunk, I don’t fuck other women, I’ve never hit you, I don’t mistreat you… I don’t even try to touch you since you’ve made it so abundantly clear how unnecessary you consider me to be! But I did support you when you got your license, and some people might think that entitles me to half of what’s yours. So, turn off the light when you come back to bed!

So after roughly 2 months of not hearing a damn thing, I get a call from New Horizons today for an inteview, just as I was about to take a job elsewhere.

It’s funny because me and Heather were discussing how potential employers never call you back. Rather, if their answer is no, they don’t inform you at all and simply leave you hanging.

I don’t think I’ve felt this much like a loser then I do right at this very moment.

4:00 AM, shoes on, dressed up. Hoping still to find something to do or somewhere to go.

Rejection by three people just this week. *sigh* Why can’t I just have someone pursue me for once?

Do you not have your own lives to worry about? You’d rather focus on my excuse for one?

I came home to 18 emails asking about the password protected post. And I’ll just say this: The people who IÂ trust with the password, already know it.

That is all.