Friends, Mortality, Love...

…and the rest of that !@#$

I'm starting this around 12:40am. It's been a day. Yesterday (Sunday) I was sick and didn't know why. At some point toward 1pm I was lightheaded and just sorta swinging in and out of wanting to stay awake. My friend Ronald dropped off a lens I left at his place after taking photos of his Transformers collection and I kept him outside of my apartment because if I was sick I didn't know if it was me, food I ingested, or something in the air.

Let me back up a little: Saturday was all-intensive. I got up around 10 which was later than I had wanted to. I grabbed some breakfast bars and stopped at a gas station for a small fruit drink before hitting the road to go to my old stomping ground, Buechel. Once there I got a haircut before driving over to the school I graduated from and taking pics of the basketball courts and some green chalkboards thanks to an old instructor Phil.

From there I booked it over to the Clifton Center off of Frankfort Ave. to sit in on the meeting for the Derby City Film Festival. I offered to help out with the fest and take pictures for Kris, the guy running it all. I also met up with Aimee (sp?) who I was interested in last year and still interested in BUT she jerked me around a bit and I'm not sure I want to deal with her anymore. I found a blackboard and started taking pictures before heading to my car to go back to my apartment.

I called Ronald from the road and told him that I would be running behind. I made it back to the apartment where my uncle was awake and sitting in his computer chair by his laptop. “Hi.” “Bye.” I grabbed my desklamp and went over to Ronald's place.

The guy has a massive Transformers collection. Massive. I had never taken “product” pics before so it was new for me. Fun? Yes. Exhausting? Yes. Did the pics come out well? Not as much as I had hoped but for not having done it before better than expected.

Following that we went to the Brick House Tap and Tavern. Three girls, one named Jenny, were having their birthdays and were planning on meeting down at Sully's on 4^th Street Live. Ronald and I were down for that and so we decided we would leave for it around 11pm.

Went back to my apartment. Grabbed my USB cable to transfer original pics from camera to Ronald's computer. He did that while I did a crash-recharge on his living room couch for at least 30 minutes. Got up, got moving, had some more Canada Dry, and we went out on the road.

4^th Street Live. Paid the $5 to get into Sully's. Jenny and her “crew” of 30 were nowhere to be seen. Ronald was letdown by this. He doesn't drink and he's not too much into club dancing and if you're not into either of these then 4^th Street Live is not your forte. We walked around trying to see if they could be anywhere else but, no dice. We finally agreed to go to Ri Ra's Irish Pub where we sat and hung out; he had a soda and I took a Stella Artois, listening to some chick go on about how she would leave a guy who wanted to drink that. Whatever. We found a spot to sit toward the other end of the bar and I perused an imported Irish newspaper. I read about how the Irish seemingly had no rights in their own country and about them finding work in Boston and New York. And I come to the conclusion that maybe, just maybe, I'm a bit more Scottish.

Went back to Ronald's place, grabbed my stuff, put it in the car and went home. Got to sleep by 3am. How it goes, how it goes...

I mentioned something about friends and making them in the title and so let me pontificate and elaborate on such matters. I'm bad at making new friends. Some part of me wants to blame Crazy and Psycho but that can't take all of it -a lot of it is me. I work in a job where most of my co-workers are women; I'm the only white guy that works until the other shows at 3pm. Most of the others have the job as a means of supporting income, getting through a relationship/divorce, or they just wanted an “easier” job to deal with. I've absorbed every pound of bad crap the place has doled out and I'm damn near done with it all. I think I've become paranoid of everyone just a little bit more.

I work with these ladies but keep an arm's distance because who and what I am and do isn't of interest to them. And that's fine. I'm used to being by myself.

But this seeps into other areas. Whether I'm speaking with an engineer, accountant, etc. my world of having a nowhere/dead-end day job to support my writing/blogging and photography doesn't equate to most of them. I went to a Meetup group where people who are new to the area come to meet others and most of them are of the yuppie variety or defined as conservative twenty-somethings from other places with cash to blow and not a lot else going on. Am I in the wrong? Should I curtail what all I'm doing in order to be on a common ground?

Ronald and I talked about friendship. In this locale it's difficult to get to know someone because the ones who live here have lived here for a long time and have to SERIOUSLY consider adding you to their circle of friends that they've known since childhood. All my former friends have wives and kids and the suburban life that the Joneses require you to have. I relate to Ronald that it's difficult because outside of these people there are the Meetup people, mostly transplants and transients, who I get along with for the most part (because I've been places) but not entirely because I lack that “corporate America” feeling. That and my hours of operation go into 2am (it's 1:18am as I write this sentence).

The other thing about friendship is that we're all looking for companions moreso than friends. We want someone to be our support system and there when we get home rather than go out, meet up, then go home alone. And that's understandable. Problem is that losing the aesthetic of friendship robs us of our relationships platonic and otherwise. And besides that with social networking, TV, our jobs, freelancing, etc., do we have time to be “just friends” with someone? Go, hang out, have fun, then go home alone? We've been drilled into “everything or nothing” so badly that guys you hang out with, girls you get into relationships with. If a girl isn't about having a relationship there's not a lot of time to be friends. There can be exceptions to this rule but they usually involve distance, relationship status/marriage, and/or the Internet.

Now to mortality. Last Wednesday my dad had chest pains that night and into Thursday morning. By 7am he was taken to the local hospital where they administered several tests (a few involving bloodwork). The results? Good news: it wasn't a heart attack. Bad news: they have no clue what it was.

Which brings me to that “whumph” I felt when my mom told me that my dad had to go to the hospital. My dad goes damn near yearly to the hospital for whatever reason and my mom doesn't make a fuss about it she just goes and sits by his side. This time she sounded UPSET. Hurt. Frightened. As if this were one card away from the Big CPU in the sky.

I felt it too. If/when my dad dies the dynamics of everything involving my family will change. I'm not looking forward to it. I'm not waiting for the phone call that's going to make me feel 10 years older than

I need to be. But I imagine it's just over the horizon.

“Love? Lord above, now you're trying to trick me in love!”

It may have been “alright now” for Free but not so much for me. Back to being tired and burnt out. I have no clue as to what women want but I get back to the square that says “Not me.” I had up a decent profile on OK Cupid and the only person to talk with me had no picture and felt like I was pulling teeth instead of having a conversation. Being tired and sick the other night I changed my profile and had a friend of mine read it who told me, in a general sense, that my new profile was a bad idea.

And so I'm going to put it all on hiatus. It doesn't matter if I'm nice, it doesn't matter if I'm not – I just don't “click.” And that's fine. I'm going to change my profile tonight and not bother with it unless someone messages me. I'll leave it at that.

How it goes, how it goes

-C

When I Feel That Time's a Wasted Go...

Y'know what? I'm about five seconds from letting the world win.

World: you got me. Is that what you wanted? Another defeat? Another person blasting out into the jumbled 0's and 1's how unless you agree with it, it's not happening? That these Hollywood-ized dreams we have about how one person can make a difference, can change things, is bunk because you have to be willing to let it happen? Is that how it really goes?

Then fuck it. Fuck it all.

I'm just high-strung tonight, people. Sitting on the edge looking into the chasm below.

I guess I'm more than slightly pissed tonight because this movie group that I'm trying to start is not going very well. Not at all. I attached myself to another group in order to get members who would be interested in coming to my place and watching a movie. And what happened?

The exact opposite.

If I were in some sports game my team would be taking a time out and using their cellphones to call the bookies and bet on the other team. It's that bad. I haven't went back to the site yet but I'm pretty sure the odds are sitting at 13-1 against.

Either I suck or these people are extremely fucking shallow. Let's not discount that both theories are possible.

Nut up or shut up time. Do I really want a movie group? Do I dare go up against the group I co-created currently presided over by Crazy and Psycho? Do I need to deal with any more shit from them?

Goddamn it. Goddamn it all.

* * * * * *

And someone asked me what I want, what I REALLY want. My answer: out. Just out. Cash in my chips. Write the check and leave the table. I'm done. Thanks. It wasn't really all that fun.

Which brings me to why am I still here? Why am I kept around? God and Satan have had more than a few chances to finish me off, the last being my car nearly creamed by a semi-truck that didn't realize I was in the lane it was merging in. Why? Am I some sort of sick joke being played out? Does neither side want me or has the bidding for my soul just not got there? Even in death I just might be by myself.

Let me attach to this rant: being “special” and a “nice guy” doesn't do dick for me. Sorry. No, strike that. All it really means is that a large ass target hangs over me head for the world to shit on me. For stupid shallow fuckers who can't see life bigger than themselves and who have nothing better to do than do right by themselves to squat on the bull's eye? Fuck that. Fuck me.

* * * * * *

So the last bit of frustration is in the fact that I'm trying to do something with my life. In terms, I'm trying to get my photography up and running/sold/recognized/jobs/etc. What's been holding me up?

A name. I have no name for the company.

Which shouldn't be difficult but it is. I'm trying to stay away from using Chas because I feel kinda done with it. Or maybe it's that I'm tired of me. Either way I've been pressing my friend Cindi for ideas and thankfully she's given me a few. And I've asked others but nothing feels like it really RINGS, like it's cool. And so amidst other crap I should be doing I'm dickering around with the name for my business.

One crisis at a time,

-C

No Love

I’ve been busy a lot lately. I’m stacking up phone numbers to call left and right for personal business. I’ve been whittling down the 220 images I shot last weekend. My friend Cindi suggests I go into stock photography which I’ve been considering for a while; I just need time to sit down and seriously concentrate on it but my mind doesn’t like staying at any given locale too long. We’ll see what happens…

And for the moment I’m tired. Again. Done. Burnt. I went to play trivia last night and the female bartend (”Steen”) acted pissed-off to see me. So, I didn’t talk to her except to order beer, get some ginger ale, and pay my tab. If you’re happier not talking to me THAN talking to me, just keep being happy. I don’t need to have anything to do with you except professional business.

* * * * * * * * *

“I dunno. I’m not looking for a relationship right now…”

So says the black woman into her cellphone earpiece; a white cord with an earbud that looks like she’s listening to an iPod. She’s standing by her cart next to a shelf to the right of the walkway on the left side of the store. Her shoe makes a heavy sound as she pounds it on the floor.

And then I realize my generation: the broken one with no love. I’m caught between friends such as Rob who, while he put in the time and effort to get to know how wife-to-be still put in the time and they had their separate lives, he’s the last of ones that I think I’ll ever know that did that.

I’m reminded of the Jennifer situation: a girl who just wanted to find someone to be with. That’s not entirely true –she was with Kurt. The point I find myself digressing from is that she goes after someone, goes to move in with them, then moves on to someone else. She’s been married before to boot. Part of me, the rational side, says it’s for the best. Emotions, however, do not have rationale.

The point I’m getting to is that dating, ergo relationships, seem to be in extremes. On one end there are those of us who are perpetually broken – jaded, cynical, tired, burnt, and fed-up; we’ve heard it all before. We suck at relationships/are horrible at them and just bob up and down in the sea of loneliness. On the other are the ones who find someone, latch onto them, and move in with them with the mentality things will get better or they’ll just work themselves out. Both of these roads are not without their share of peril.

Maybe it’s a question of wants and needs. A friend of mine, Jennai, posted on her FB status that she wants to call a truce on the war between the sexes. I think that war has downgraded to skirmishes of an almost “who could care less” mentality. It just feels like everything is… busted. Not to throw out any generalities here but women seem to have a checklist only slightly thicker than the Clinton Healthcare document of the 90’s while hoping that the guy they are dating not only makes it through the checklist but is every bit the fairytale Prince Charming meets Marlboro Man that they want him to be. It is impossible come highly unlikely that any guy can remotely match this image or come close. Meanwhile us guys are steeped in the idea that the an incredibly hot, huge-chested, high-heel wearing chick will accept us for being slobs which is NEVER true because beautiful chicks, hot chicks at that, mainly stay around those as equally good-looking. Both sides hide within their own fantasies crossing their fingers for it to become reality.

So I’ve talked with exes and friends and the question becomes: what do I want? What am I looking for in a person? I really don’t know. A woman I FEEL attracted to, not just someone I think I can grow into linking. A woman who actually APPRECIATES me for being me instead of trying to control me or make me feel like shit. A soul I can cry into in the darkness. A woman I can complement (and compliment) and vice-versa. Someone who puts me at ease just being with them.

But how do I market that? Are women actually interested in that or are men just chutes and ladders? The Old Man (ergo, old apartment neighbor) once said that women are looking for three things: fun, finance, and security and they’ll do anything to have that combination, whether it’s one guy or many. And I do not know where else to go on this tangent…

I guess I’m at the fact that I sit tired. And disillusioned. Not as broken but tired of having to sift through the leftovers of the alcoholics, the crazies, and the rest I’m not attracted to. And there are times that I forget the point –that those moments I so forget about, that deep down I miss, that all this is clouded under a veil of “never again” nostalgia that I’ll not have a chance to experience, just vaguely remember like I’m watching a movie unfold before me.

I dunno. It’s all just crazy talk.

The Struggle of Birthday

Tuesday I turned 34. 3-4. In medieval times you were lucky to live past 30. Fifty years ago the cultural standard was that I should've had the house, mortgage, good paying job, wife, kid, etc. Hell, my parents were married by the time my dad was 20. Me? I'm none of those things but I'm alright with that.

There was something in my twenties when I believed that the Program was the way; that I would have all of those above things by the age of 25. I saw myself somewhere different. I did not foresee dealing with depression, loneliness, moving, bad friends, self-esteem issues, etc. If I went back to the 'me' of Middle School how would I then see the 'me' of now? I don't want to venture to guess.

But as far as life goes I've had more fun after turning 30 than I think I did in my twenties. I spent a decade running around asking if I was doing the right thing and now, while I am still paying for some of that I found that following my heart is really all I can do.

Speaking of... people still want me to get back to directing. I'm still not there yet but I'm getting closer. I think.

I remember turning 25 and I was like “I'm 25. I have now achieved a quarter-century of life on Earth. I now know all THIS.” I was full of myself. I didn't realize that life always changes and who you are now is not necessarily who you are tomorrow or who you were yesterday. The core programming is all there but as the bumper sticker states, “Shit happens.” Sometimes I do wish I could go back to the me of then and talk to me.

I know I'm rambling at this point but ya know what? This is my blog.

I'm looking at starting a movie group again. The last one I walked away from. This one I'm going to see if I can build it off another Meetup group. Will keep you posted.

Speaking of struggle... my friend Art finally convinced me to help work on the show he's trying to do. He wants to showcase people's attempts to get where they are going albeit fame, stardom, coveted positions, etc. I told him that if we did it the show would be about the trials and tribulations and that, sometimes, you don't always get where you were planning on going. We'll see how this goes...

I don't know what other pearls of wisdom to share this morning. Currently, my car sits off to the side of an on-ramp and I need to get a new battery for it then take it over to have the alternator checked as well as a new tire put on. There goes trip money I was hoping to have. I'm trying to save up for my NYC trip. We'll see how that goes.

It's Just Crazy Talk

That's all I did that weekend. January 7-9. Crazy talk.

For the record I don't think that I've ever talked as much as I did that weekend. That's really all I can remember.

Friday night kicked off with bowling at a local franchise called Incredible Dave's. The Louisville Active Singles had an event there and I decided to go. Several people showed and we all had a good time -I've never bowled as good a game as that night. I ran into a guy named Matt who I had met before when I was a part of the film group I co-created.

“How about John and Jen, huh? They're engaged.”

And I'm breaking a resolution I had made notably the one that said I wouldn't talk about them. Here is a guy giving me the 411: she moved in with him in June, they both still drive her car, their relationship is “clingy” (“they can't be without each other for more than five seconds...”), she's making him go to college, and they're engaged. What does one say about that? What do I say about that? “Uh... wow.” Good for them – they got what they wanted.

Saturday and I had multiple conversations with others mainly in regards to relationships.

Saturday night/Sunday morning I have the longest conversation I've ever had with my first ex-girlfriend, Rebecca. She was kicked out of the house of the friend she was living with and was in a hotel waiting to go to a safe place and then move to a relative's place in Roanoke. We started getting into our personal lives and went into “naked chat,” which I had not done with her before. It's intimacy without physicality. It's uncorking what we keep bottle up. It's the baring of souls. It's the dark side of relations.

And she relays to me her sexual exploits: some of what she's done, how far she's gone, S&M, etc. She tells me of the point that's not pain nor is it pleasure. She tells me that she's afraid to “be” with me because when it comes to being physical with me she's scared to take away what she loves about me: the fact that I approach sex and love as if it's new.

Maybe it's an excuse. Maybe there's truth to it.

We talk for four hours. I wake up the next morning feeling stripped to the point of nothing left inside me. That's the only downside to all of it – emotional depletion.

Resolve / Everything is Not Lost Just Misplaced

It’s the post-holiday “remember your incarcerated” rush on the call system. Monday and Tuesday were brutal. Further evidence that I need to find the EXIT sign.

Aside from that I bid a not-so-fond farewell to 2010. Talking with my friend Norma she called it my Year of Exploration and looking back, it was. I found out a lot about myself that I never knew: my “spot” is my back, I do have a bending point (and can be wrecked), I missed doing photography, I need to find a general direction as to which way to go, I’m done being the “nerd in the room,” sometimes other people are shit, and hey, I enjoy rough sex. And sensuality. More than you wanted to know, right?

So I’m at the place where I’m taking a long look not at what I’ve done but where I’m going; not so much with trepidation (but there’s plenty to go ‘round) but with curiosity. And a sense of optimism. And the realization that everything is not lost as long as I can take the wheel back and drive.

This is the part of the blog that’s ethereal so if you’re not gonna believe or indulge in belief in what I’m going to say, feel free to skip to the next paragraph. Alright. So last week I did what I finally needed to: I sent a farewell letter to Jennifer. I kept thinking back at sitting in the Heine Bros. coffeeshop and watching her divert the group of people she was with just to avoid me. Sorta amusing, sorta sad, sorta pissy. I got tired of having her as the ghost of my loneliness; a monster reminder of failing (even though there was way more going on than just me screwing up). And so I wrote it all up, repeated it to a friend of mine, made some grammatical changes, and sent it on Friday. The result? No response. By Monday morning some weight was lifted and, call me “empathic,” I think she let me go. I at least felt it. The only way I can even begin to explain it is that I connect with people on varying levels and some of them others can’t, or won’t, believe in. I’m plugged into the metaphysical or I’m wrong. We then get down to the semantics of belief, who we are, spirituality… and it all becomes an unraveled discourse. And it’s always been this way for me but Jennifer engaged me on an intellectual level that opened it up and I haven’t closed that door. The only problem is that I was still connected with her. She let me go, severing most of the connection and I’m happier for it. I hope she is, too. Believe it or no.

So I’m kinda looking forward to 2011. Not in fear and not quite optimistic as hope but as my “getting’ shit done” year. In theory. Before “cleaning my slate” with last week’s e-mail I sat and figured out some of the list:

- Start a website again. I want to showcase my writing, movie reviews, and photography. Maybe that’s all a tall order… I’m trying to curtail and make some money instead of spending more effort and money than I have to do so.

- Deal with finances. I’m trying to pay for my life, pay on some medical bills, and save for my trip to NYC or on the City of New Orleans. I’ll have $200 saved by next week.

- I may have to get a new car. Not liking that idea mainly because I don’t want to go through the hassle.

- Have to figure out if I can live on a “freelance life” and how to do so. I’ve been heading this direction painfully slowly for the past few years (I know, I know) but taking this year to clean things up I just may be able to do it…

- Or move. I need outta the River City. So long and thanks for all the fish. Been fun but it’s time for me to go.

- And I’ve gotta find another crap job. Something to get by on. I’ve done this too long and it’s killed my psyche, some relationships, and hurt a lot of things. Sure, I’ve been able to get “off the ground” per se but the house I’ve built is on quicksand. I can’t keep losing pieces of foundation while adding wood planks to it.

- The project to complete for the year: “Numbers.” I stopped writing on it because I got more into dating and ran into a dead end. It’s been a year so I think I can dust it back off, re-edit, and go at it again. This time I’m going to finish at least a first draft of it.

That’s all I’ve got. Oh yeah: gotta get back to exercising. And find a doctor for my diabetes medication. Have an audience with the Pope and save the world at 8. See ya ‘round.

Not To Be That Guy But I Am That Guy

When I was growing up I always found the lives of others fascinating. I was friends with a guy who went on two tours in Vietnam and after returning was a janitor. Another friend of mine was a native Cherokee Indian. When in Cali I got to know a guy whose face could've rivaled a rockcliff and who had seemingly “been there, done that.” I've always found these people intriguing but I swore I would never be them.

Too late. I already became one.

Not that it's a bad thing. Some part of me still wants that success. I'm not deluding myself with the idea of endless parties and money flowing like water -I would just like something in that suburb. The older I get the farther away from that I seem to find myself.

Case in point: Tuesday night I went to trivia at Molly Malone's off Shelbyville Rd. Incidentally I ran into an old high school friend of mine and I joined him team. We won the $25 gift certificate.

But I digress. I was catching him up on the past 8 years of my life which included my trip to California, then to Georgia, then back to Louisville. I had worked for Ban Dai, been a radio show programmer, sat and listened to Wes Craven, met Ray Bradbury and Dean Koontz, and even visited Roswell, NM. And in a moment I had the realization:

I had became that guy. The one who bounces everywhere. The one with adventures.

And maybe it's part of that I feel so conflicted about. I find myself torn in this techno-society with my laptop, camera, smartphone, Blu ray player, etc. I'm a slave to all the tech geeky crud in my apartment. On the other end I enjoy my privacy, my freedom, my ability to go wherever I want and do whatever I want, my lack of interest in most network TV. I think for myself and try to live life without having to consult eHow or Wiki for instructions (although I'm still bad at tying a tie).

I'm not living in a shack or writing a manifest on my theories on life. I'm just riding the fine line between living life and experiencing the world and a lot of the time I feel alone on this journey. Then again, it may have always been this way.

And I'm still thinking of the Neverending Highway. The open road, the people I meet, the places I go, wherever I sleep (preferably Days Inn because they have pools). I just think I need another adventure...