What?!

It occurred to me that my ability to articulate myself and my vocabulary, might be a possible hindrance in my quest for a job. I don't know for certain, but I really get the feeling that my ability to express myself fluently in the English language, while to me doesn't seem that amazing, is intimidating and a turn-off for most employers. At least in the restaurant business. I don't mean to say that the majority of workers, employers, and fast-food goers are dunces or the like, just that I think it's really fucking stupid that I'm overlooked because I'm confident in, and use my native language to the best of my potential.

My grandma doesn't get it . . .

She thinks that I've not found a job because:

•  I'm lazy
•  I think every job is shit
•  I don't want a job

This would all be well and good, if any of these were the case. But they aren't. I've applied at every place I can think of. I've taken suggestions, I've done follow-ups, I call back, I go in, I drive here, I drive there. And still no fucking job. She thinks that I'm showboating, applying places with no intention of keeping or doing my best at a job. Really, it's assholish of her to think so little of me and for the life of me, I can't think of a reason why her opinion even fucking matters to me at all. She's old. She's bitter. And now, she thinks it's okay to be caustic, crass, and mean. If I were lazy, I would have quit looking for a job ages ago. I would have fucking quit the Loop for that matter. I don't think every job is shit, I just don't think that some jobs advertise themselves for what they are; nor do the bosses/owners/swindlers tell you up front that they plan to Jew you out of money and essentially break your back, so that you can make them more money and they can compensate you for as little as possible. Maybe I'm idealistic, for wanting a job where I can work for 15-30 hours a week and not be paid in lint and buttons; but I believe that I'm a friendly person. I don't back-talk my superiors. I show up on time. I do everything in my power to make sure that I learn whatever the fuck it is that I'm supposed to learn, so I can do my job competently and I work hard. Sure, I like to socialize; I like to talk, but I don't think that's that bad of a thing, considering the amount of effort I normally put in to getting shit done.

But I suppose my opinion is moot at this point. Because really, I don't have a job. I haven't made any lead way anywhere. I'm sure Megan is on the verge of leaving me. Literally, the only reason she hasn't is because she loves me, terribly; and apparently I fuck like a Greek God. But the notion of me not getting a job is hard on us. She has to pay for everything. Everything. And even when I get a job, she doesn't want me to pay for anything. Which is fine. I guess.

I feel like . . . how does the saying go, "lower than whale shit on the bottom of the ocean"; yeah, something like that. Like I feel like such a worthless sack of shit, that I want to break up with Megan to save her the trouble. Whenever I feel like this, I want to sever ties completely with everyone . . . and just pick up, pack up, and vanish. I don't have the heart or constitution for suicide. I've never had that. I tried as a child as realized I can't override my self-preservation instinct; and as a teen when I tried to take sixteen aspirins . . . well, I obviously lived didn't I? Point being, even in self-mutilation, the one thing I should be good at, I fail.

I don't want to quit though, surprisingly. My main motivation being Megan. I want her to extremely that my desire to say fuck it all, is completely negated and then overwhelmed by a need to show her that I can, and that I will.

So, I guess all I can do is continue applying, continue calling, continue going in, continue praying, hoping, wishing, begging for a new job that at least allows me to return to school.

What the fuck is wrong with my younger brother . . .

Like this kid is twisted up on the inside. Sometimes I just want to punch him in the face and in the act somehow knock the sheer absurdity and ignorance right out of his skull. Like he hounds me constantly, I want to hang out, I want to hang out; and yes, I do hang out with Fika more, but . . . fuck, dude, she's 18. Not 14. She can come to Aladdin's. Which is normally where I go to hang out. I don't mean to be an ass to him and make up shit like I'm always busy, but when he asks to randomly come over to my house, I know that it's not completely about fellowship for him. He wants to sit up on Sean's Xbox and play Halo online, or play games on Sean's computer or eat the shit out of the food in the kitchen or give me various details about his life that I really, really, really could do without. I don't give a shit about you catching random boners and hugging on little high-schoolers. They stopped being attractive to me when . . . well my last year of high school. Maybe I'm the real asshat, because this is the only way he knows to interact with me and maybe he thinks that if he shows me that he too is very interested in girls, and likes similar video games that this will somehow . . . make me more endearing. Unfortunately, that's not the case. I'm fairly content in being by myself, a lot of the time. Megan is different. First, she doesn't hound me to play video games and normally can be found either watching television in her spare time or reading a book; or if the mood strikes her . . . with me on, in, or around her person. And being that John is the furthest thing from attractive to me and doesn't know how to take a fucking hint, I tend to avoid him at times. And that's really fucked up. I know. But I don't really see myself changing anytime soon. I'm stressing over not having a job and the various things that places that I apply tell me; and generally just don't feel like being around a hyper teenager. Makes me wonder if I was that bothersome as a kid . . . I don't think so, because I spent the majority of my time, alone, writing poetry or alone, reading books. I didn't really have anyone to socialize with outside of school. I know he's got that and shouldn't be so gung-ho about being around me . . . Fuck, I'm rambling again.

"So Desperately Obvious"
I hope I am not.
I hope I look hopeful and excited.
I just feel like shit. Completely and thoroughly.
I haven't done anything, haven't able to keep my word to her, to myself, to my grandfathers, to anyone.
And I know exactly why . . .

In Retrospect

"It's Kinda A Funny Story"
Like seeing her, knowing that she wants to be my friend
But knowing that I don't trust myself about her or her about me
That my girlfriend isn't at all comfortable with the idea of me talking to her
It doesn't sit right in my stomach
And my conscience would probably eat me alive if I ever saw her without Megan's knowledge
It's funny because before, before me being stupid and thinking that I could ever love her
We were friends
Just friends
Could hang out
Could chill
But like most things, feelings, too strong, too immature, too primordial ruined what could have just been a good friend

Everything that I should . . .

"Unnamed"
Today, I attended a funeral. An old fashioned, screaming and shouting, bawling and stomping funeral. And like every one I've attended up until this point . . . I was flabbergasted, stoic. Death is the one true certainty in life. The moment you are born, is the instant you start dying. It's almost funny. The other day I heard a line in a song that just stood out: "everybody dies, but not everybody lives." I don't want to regret. Ever. I actually prayed for Megan, for us, and the chance to make things right. I don't feel like I'm making enough of an effort, but . . . I know that this is my last chance. And I refuse to sabotage it, like everything else. But unlike the other shit, I didn't really care, thus the apathy. She spins my top. And I owe it to her, myself, those that have listened to me cry and whine to make good on my word and promises.

She is a bit stupid and dense

"Unnamed"
Like how the fuck am I supposed to react?
How am I supposed to be?
Calm?
Apathetic?
Am I supposed to pretend like it doesn't bother me that you're thinking about, probably planning on fucking Servio?
Like the idea that it doesn't bother you, doesn't bother me?
Are you shitting me?
Really?
Don't be stupid.
If you had no intention of being with me, then why did you tell me that you wanted to have my children?
If we had no future, then why did you pursue a relationship with me?
If I'm not supposed to feel anything, why have you been fucking me for the last two weeks?
What the fuck?
Why have you been calling me 'honey' and such?
If you'd no intention of being with me?
You're not as mature as you want to be . . .
And pretending otherwise won't help you move on.
I am not Andrew.
I am not Servio.
I am not the others.
Despite however they handled your rejection or apathy, I don't want or plan to.
I promise you that.
If you don't want me, tell me and be done with it.
Stop cuddling.
Stop inviting me over.
Stop making those eyes at me.
Say fuck off and be done with it.