Friday, January 26, 2007

Vox

The presence of other people destroy the creative avenues of my mind. I could use these people as canon fodder-- er, material for writing, however, I don't really care about them that much. They are merely annoyances I must wade through during my day to get to the inevitable goal of going home. Basically, I'm a solo act, baby, everyone else is trampling on my flow.

It's really always been that way for me. I'm more creative on my own. When in a group setting, one tends to let go of what they think in order to compromise for the direction of what the group is thinking. I don't like that. So, this is humbling for me in a way. It is humbling for me to have to DEAL with people. Isn't that strange? It's not normal, that's for sure. It's almost as if being around people on a constant basis sucks my will to live.

And it's hard, it really is. It's hard to insert all your little quirks in when there are so many others shoving to get theirs in, as well. It all boils down to one thing:

They don't care what I think. I really don't care what they think, either. We're just shoved in a situation together where we must DEAL with each other. I don't know how. I don't think I came with those functions. My mute button is broken. What is a polite way of telling someone they suck? I don't know. Apparently telling someone that talking to them is like talking to a wall (only you can get more useful information out of the wall) is not polite. Apparently telling someone that you'd rather get your tooth pulled than be around them is not very nice. I must be polite, you know. I don't dare even dream of going against the group mentality, especially when they are senior to me. Actually, I dream of this daily, but can't because I don't want to lose my job. The odd thing is that I do like my job; I just hate people.

Anyway, back to the humility part. It is humbling for me to hold my tongue. But at the end of the day, perhaps it is more wise this way. Sometimes it is better to leave things left unsaid. I'm human and I make mistakes, too. Maybe if I stop being so critical of others, I could learn to DEAL with them better. Because you can only hold your fingers up in the air, so that their head fits in the space between your fingers, while you smash your fingers together in a mock attempt to smush their head so many times before you start seeking other avenues. I must've mock-smushed about a thousand heads, yesterday. I just need to learn to deal with people. All I can say is that it's a good thing I don't have divine powers. Otherwise, there'd be a lot of headless people walking around my town. But hey, at least it'd be a lot less noisy.

Saturday, January 13, 2007

I'm Not Dead, Just Barely Alive

If what doesn't kill you makes you stronger, by the end of my time at this job, I am going to be one steel-covered bitch.

Hello. Remember me? I'm the one that abandoned you all in the pursuit of money in the form of a paycheck. I do deeply regret that decision. Really, I do. If you only knew. Now I could go on and on about the many dickholes I manage to come across during my day. I could go on and on about how giant shit-filled turds try to be condescending to moi in their attempt to make me believe I am somehow not entirely perfect. I could... but really why bother? We all know it's not true, anyway. I am the epitome of perfection. Instead, let's try to think of the positive.

First off, I'd like to give a shout-out:

Dear Santa,

Thanks big guy. I knew you'd come through for me. Oh and the IPod, yeah my Mom's trying to take credit for that one, but we both know it came from you, don't worry. Next year, let's talk Aruba.

XOXOXO,
Ari


There. Now that that's done, let's move on, shall we?

I discovered that I talk to myself. We're not talking about a little here or there, oh no. We're talking full-blown conversation that I have with myself in my pursuit of doing my job in hell. Ya know, hell. The place I work at. Anyhow, there are two conclusions to draw from this. Either I appear to be slowly going insane, which could also mean that I am somehow gifted above normal levels (look at gifted people sometime, if you look closely, they appear insane) OR I have the creativity that is unsurpassed by any other mortal. Either way, it doesn't draw away from my perfection, so I'm going to accept it. Fine, I talk to myself. But listen to the conversation sometime. Only I would debate myself on whether or not I am a complete bad-ass or only a bad-ass on the outside with a gooey center. They're good conversations, I tell you. Good ones. They'll draw you in and leave you perplexed, slightly uneasy and a little afraid. Which is okay with me, because I only have these conversations in hell. So if you hear one, chances are, I want you to feel that way, so you will back the fuck off and leave me alone. So that I can do my job. IN HELL.

BUT ENOUGH ABOUT--- Don't you hate when you forget about that capslock? Sheesh.

But enough about hell, let's talk more about me. Right now, I'm working on a daydream that involves leather, a parachute and rose petals. Yeah, I'm gonna have GOOD dreams tonight. Well, look at that. I remembered the capslock. We'll talk later. Until then, have a good one or five for me. And tell them Ari sent you.


Ta ta,
Ari