Wednesday, January 23, 2013

Some things...

There's a lot about life that I don't understand.  I don't mean to say this as some profound thing or to try to separate myself from the pack.  I'm sure that there are things about life that 100% of people don't understand.  What I mean to say is that there are things about my life that I don't understand.  Certain situations arise, and I don't understand why I handle them the way I do.

I don't handle personal setbacks very well. I feel like I'm a pretty rational person, but whatever chemicals are firing off in my brain would disagree.  Feeling like this makes me tired.  It makes me want to just give up.  "What am I going to have to deal with today," is usually the first thought I have when I wake up.  It's not anything happy or optimistic.  It's how can I endure another day.  And I'm not saying that my life is all bad.  I have good friends.  I have a good family.  It's just that with every good thing, I cringe waiting for the other shoe to drop.  I wait for the bad that will balance out the good.

I always seem to latch onto a situation that, to someone on the outside, is obviously bad for me.  For whatever reason, I always think I can turn it around to work in my favor despite that fact that I have LITERALLY no history of doing so.  This is especially true with women.  My brain will decide whatever it is that attracts a person to another, and then it's over for me.  When it doesn't work out, I get really down.  Really, really down.  I know people deal with rejection.  It happens, but for me, it's intensified for reasons I discussed in the second paragraph.  I end up questioning myself.  I regret all the things I didn't do and feel like an idiot for the things I did do.  I think I'm a good guy.  Funny, fun to be around, witty, all that stuff.  I don't understand why it happens, but it definitely does.

I appreciate friends trying to make me feel better.  "Oh, you'll find somebody.  Everybody does!"  Years of being a ridiculous pessimist immediately make me think that not everybody does; nothing is guaranteed.  It's luck.  It's circumstance.  It's a whole number of things that need to go right, and for me, for whatever reason, they aren't.

Somebody said to me the other day that by the time you turn 30 you've either got it or you don't.  I totally believe this and it scares me.  It scares me that I don't have my shit together yet and don't really know if I ever will.  It scares me that I'm starting to not care about things.  I have no passion for anything.  I feel like the person I used to be is almost completely gone.  I wanted to be in a much different place at this point in my life.  I'm starting to develop a really negative view of myself because I've done basically nothing with myself.

I know the natural reaction to this will be "go see a doctor!"  I get that.  I've been three times.  I've been on "happy pills" three times, each time long enough for them to do whatever it is they are supposed to do, and each time the benefits were only temporary.  I know I should keep trying, but it's frustrating to be temporarily fixed and then go back to the lows.  Today it became very apparent to me that I need to do something, though.  I don't want to be one of those people who wake up one day and just decide that they're done living.  Don't get me wrong, I don't plan on doing that, but does anybody plan on doing that?  That's not what anybody wants to do.  I just feel like a normal person wouldn't react to things the way I have been lately.

So I'm going to try to do something to get myself back on track soon.  I don't know what yet, but I'm looking into some things.  I know this was very whiny and self-indulgent, but it was written at the end of a long, sad and frustrating day.  I needed to get it out and didn't want to burden friends with it.  Also, it offers some explanation to people who have to deal with me on a daily basis and probably aren't sure what Dale they're getting that day.  So I apologize for that.  I'm definitely going to try to change that.

(I haven't written anything of any length in over a year, and I'm too tired to proofread this, so...there's that.  Not even sure it makes sense.)

Monday, February 28, 2011

The "Honey" Paradox

"You doin' ok, sweetie?" "Tell me what's the matter, honey." Yeah, it's all bullshit. People who employ this rapid fire terms of endearment crap are most of the time pretending like they care. I've found that the use of these words is directly proportional to the amount that they, in fact, don't give a shit. They just do it to pretend that they are some sort of "good person." Everybody wants to be seen as a good person, but some people think there's a shortcut. I hate these people.

I've said it many times. Fake "good people" are what's wrong with the world. Well, that and I guess global hunger, unemployment, war, stuff like that. But what I mostly see is the fake "good people." One of the worst things you can do to someone is pretend you care about their well-being because you think that's what your supposed to do. Half-assing something like that is irresponsible.

So just think about this today. Think about somebody you know who does this. Everybody knows one. Think about how much you could actually depend on them if you needed them. Once you realize the world is full of shitbags, you'll feel much better. Believe me.

Friday, February 18, 2011


I overheard a conversation in the store the other day. A father sang a short song to his daughter who rode in the child seat of the shopping cart he pushed. "Do you remember that? I used to sing that to you when you were a baby to get you to go to sleep." She looked at him and said, "Were you even around when I was a baby?" "Well, I was for awhile, but I had to go off and make money so I could keep this family together," he replied.

Whoa, shit just got real, didn't it, four-year-old? Maybe you should stick to questions about puppy dogs and stuff before your dad goes apeshit on you.

Saturday, October 16, 2010

A plan that doesn't make sense

Last night at work, probably around midnight, I was taking some metal folding stools out of a box and putting them on a shelf when I heard the unmistakable sound of an electric scooter. From behind me I heard, "Well, whatcha got there?" I turned around to see a tiny old man who was easily in his late 170s. He had a big smile on his face like he just ran into an old friend. "Just some folding stools," I replied. He let out an astonished "huh!" and then said, "I don't believe I've ever seen one of those before."

"Shit," I thought. This was going to be one of those conversations. Basically no conversation after midnight with a stranger in Wal-Mart is a normal one, and I figured this would be no different.

"Yep, just a stool that folds," I said, when I really wanted to say, "really? A stool? Never seen one of those before?" "Well, how does that work?" he asked. I unfolded it for him and he let out a loud laugh like I'd just done some amazing magic trick. That's when I realized that he wasn't some dumb old guy who hadn't quite grasped the concept of a stool. He was just lonely. He wasn't buying anything nor did he have any interested in a $10 stool. He just wanted to talk to people. And wanted people to talk to him. I felt bad, but I didn't really know what to do.

"Getting pretty cold out, huh?" I said to him. He smiled and then we had a ten-minute conversation about the weather until he noticed a couple walking by pushing a bike, which seemed like a good conversation starter for him. I finished my work and left them to their conversation.

This is the dumb thing about life and why I believe in nothing. This isn't the kind of life this guy is supposed to lead. This can't be the way he's supposed to finish out his existence. If this is all part of some master plan, it's not a very well thought out one. I just hope I don't get to the point where I have to pretend I've never heard of a stool just to have some sort of personal contact. Just to feel like I'm still a person.

Sunday, June 6, 2010

Realism and you

Hope. I'd like to talk for a minute about hope. Hope is what everybody thinks you should have. Hope and a positive attitude. You don't even need anything else! Especially realism. You have hope and have a peachy outlook on the world? Well're all set, champ. Don't bother with this real world stuff. The path to wealth and happiness is laid before you.

And of course none of that is true. What's going to happen is going to happen regardless of how you feel about things and hope much you "hope" they go well. Don't confuse that with "everything happens for a reason." More on that and how much I believe that is also a huge load some other time.

Think of life as a big piñata. Every time you take a chance, go after an opportunity, try to achieve a goal, you take a whack at that piñata. There could be anything in there. It's just a big paper mache donkey of possibility. So put all your hope and positivity behind that stick and take a swing. Sometimes good things will come out, but more often than not (seems like more often than not. I don't have statistics or anything) life turns out to be a big ol' shit piñata. And as you stand there in that shit drizzle, you can try to justify it any way you'd like. "Maybe I haven't been smiling enough lately." "I let those negative thoughts get to me! No more of that!" But all that is wrong. The truth is that sometimes life sucks. Why do we pretend it doesn't? Why do we pretend we have the power to make it not suck? We don't. It doesn't matter what we do. It's going to suck or it's not going to suck. It's going to do what it's going to do whether we smile or not.

I know I probably sound like a dick. I know somebody (it's fun to think people read this) is out there saying to themselves how much I'm a jackass and why can't I just be happy. I hate that. I hate that people are so delusional to think that they can just flip a happy switch and there ya go! Instant happiness. Sure I could "just be happy," but I'd just be pretending. I could pretend I was on fire, too, but that would make me look pretty stupid. Maybe I don't want to hear about your great day just as much as you don't want to hear about my crappy one. Has that ever crossed your mind? We don't make our own happiness. That's ridiculous to even think. I worry about those people. I worry more about those people than I do people like myself (the super awesomely depressed and negative folks.) There are always going to be outside forces that we can't control. Say what you want, but that's the truth.

I just want people to be a little more realistic. I don't want them to be like me. I have set the bar pretty low as far as expectations go with anything. I've found that if I don't expect much, I'm disappointed much less. It's like the Gin Blossoms said, "If you don't expect too much from me, you might not be let down." Quoting a Gin Blossoms song is a little lame, but that's how I feel. Once I adopted this mindset, I've become a lot more content. I just wish I hadn't always been so naive and been a little better prepared for the shit piñata.

Friday, June 4, 2010

I guess Leia was kinda hot

I was walking up to the apartment this morning after getting, get this, fast food. I know that's a shock. A bee flew right in my face, and as I swatted at it, I caught my glasses with one of my fingers and flung them into the grass. Without my glasses the world might as well be Picasso shapes 'cause I couldn't tell the difference. So as I'm blindly sifting through the grass and dirt, I'm reminded why I'm still single. It's partly because I'm holding a bag of fast food at 8 a.m. that's not even breakfast food. It's also partly because I'm digging around the ground for my glasses that I swatted off my face while I was shooing away a bee like a little girl.

I think I need to make some changes. Maybe get some contacts or something. Hit the gym at least once. Nobody wants to date a guy who looks like, no matter when you see him, that within the last 30 minutes he jacked off to Star Wars. And that's what I unfortunately look like. I don't even like Star Wars, but I give off that vibe. I might as well wear a shirt that says, "Action figure collectors do it in the box," or something. I don't know whether it's the I-cut-my-own-hair hairstyle or the fact that my skin looks like I live in a cave, but it's definitely something.

So I've gotta fix this. I don't want to have a bunch of cats or ferrets or some shit that I refer to as my kids when I'm older. Sittin' there watching reruns of Firefly and asking them if they want more "din-din." This is the path which I'm on now. I want like...normalness minus the kids. And that's probably not going to happen if I continue to be Fatsworth McNerdstrom.

But under all this "I want to change" stuff lies the lazy side of me, and that side is usually the one who calls the shots. So I should probably start looking into what ferrets eat.

Sunday, May 23, 2010

The dealbreaker

Do you have a stalker? Maybe someone who is just annoying and won't leave you alone? Well, just tell them you work at wal-mart. Don't worry about any sort of contact after that. Believe me.

This makes girl number three who has asked the dreaded, "so, what do you do" question. And sure I can tell my little back story about being a newspaper editor (sort of respectable, I guess), but it doesn't matter. All that matters is what I'm doing now. Once that hyphenated word comes out of my mouth, they're gone.

I don't really get it. It's just a job. It's not what I want to do for the rest of my life by any means. It pays the bills and that's all. I don't have a giant, framed painting of Sam Walton over my bed or anything. My room isn't painted Despair Blue (I doubt that's the name of the color, but it should be.) I put shit on a shelf and they pay me. That's all it is. That's all it ever will be. I don't plan on being a "lifer." And there's not even anything wrong with being a wal-mart lifer. It's not an entirely horrible place to work. The managers actually make pretty good money. If you are a good enough ass kisser, you can do ok for yourself, but you should probably plan on meeting someone prior to your wal-mart employment. Or I should have anyway.

There's no real way around it either until I get a better job. I don't want to lie and say I do something that I don't do, but I may have to start doing that. 'Cause this is girl #3. 3! I could probably say, "Oh, what do I do? Well, I arrange unborn fetuses into swastika and pentagram patterns. It's not really a job, but it's fulfilling." That would get a better reaction than, "I work at Wal-Mart."

Oh well.