Monday, August 29, 2005



IF YA SMELL...ok, enough of my brutally bad impersonation of the Rock...

And besides, it's only a temp job. And I didn't think I had it after the three hours of Microsoft Excel and Word testing I endured. I have virtually no experience with Excel, and some of the things they wanted me to do with Word I had never done before. But the main test was my typing test, and that came out 51 WPM with one mistake, which was good enough for the lady handling my case. So starting Wednesday, from 8:30A to 5:00P, I'm doing a data entry gig at a place eerily close to my old job. This job agency that I went to for the job, as I said yesterday, is located about three blocks from the Chicago Board Options Exchange. The actual gig is only two blocks away from CBOE. Scary, I'll be able to visit all of my old favorite lunch places. And I'll be able to have lunch with Cassandra if she's able to. I can spend an hour a day in person listening to the excuses why she can't give me the money she owes me. Yippee. The gig ends around January according to the lady at the job agency, but I'll find out all the details for myself Wednesday.

With all that taking place today, I didn't have time to find out the status of my financial aid at Harold Washington College, so I will now saunter into the first day of the fall semester having not paid for my classes. Hey, if it wasn't for drama, I wouldn't have any fun in my life. What will happen with school? How will the new job work out? And how much money will I have to spend on new dress shirts because my belly has outgrown most of my old ones??? Stay tuned...

Sunday, August 28, 2005

Manic Monday

Well, tomorrow is going to wind up being a much busier day than I figured a few days ago. First, I made the deadline decision to sign up for a couple of classes at Harold Washington College for the fall semester, which starts tomorrow. I did not go to the school and sign up, because I didn't feel like going there unless Whitney Young High School had sent my transcript to them, and I found out over the phone that they haven't yet received my transcript. My application for financial aid will not be processed until Harold Washington receives my transcript. So how did I sign up for classes? Online. Anyone who had a Harold Washington I.D. last semester can use it to log on to their computer system and register for classes in that manner, and you can even pay for them online if you have a few grand on your credit card and you trust the security of the server. I had to do it by Saturday at 6P though. If I didn't sign up by then, I would have to wait until Monday for late registration, and there's an extra fee for late registration. It gets more interesting: There's a 48-hour grace period for paying for the classes, so I decided not to pay for the classes with my credit card yet in case they receive my transcript tomorrow and they can process my financial aid. But if they don't receive my transcript, I'm going to have to pay for the classes now and have them reimburse me later after they determine how much financial aid I will receive. Boy, I just can't do things like normal people, can I? It's funny how much this past week standing in line at the school and running around trying to get proper documentation reminds me of last year at this exact same time. Still stinging from being dumped over the phone by "Sarah," and desperate for some kind of purpose for my pathetic life, I decided to sign up for classes on the last day of open registration, hobbling along the way due to a gout attack I was having at the same time. A year and 22 credits later (and hell fucking yeah I'm proud of those 22 credits, even though it takes about 120 to receive a bachelor's degree), here I am again, rushing and trying to beat the deadline and not completely sure that I know what I'm doing. I think I get off on doing things spontaneously like that. If I planned things out in advance, I'd have all that extra time to be afraid and convince myself that I'm a loser and I'm not going to do well and I'm never going to amount to anything. This way, I don't have time to think about it. Just do it, like Nike.

So tomorrow would be hectic anyway, what with me intending to go up to the school early before my literature class starts at 5:30P in order to find out the status of my financial aid. (My second class follows immediately afterwards, social science 102 at 7:05P, and both classes are Mondays and Wednesdays.) But I received a phone call today that made tomorrow downright apocalyptic. It's a job interview! It's just a temp job, but I'm still excited because I haven't been able to get anyone to even acknowledge receiving my resume when I apply to all these jobs I see online. And finally, someone called me back. I applied in an e-mail around 5:00P, and they called me a couple of hours later. It's a data entry deal on Madison and LaSalle, four blocks from where I used to work for ten years, as well as five blocks from school. I don't know much about it except it's a temp job that will end around the holidays and it's $10 per hour. The person who called initially told me that the hours were M-F 8:30A to 5:30P, but when I explained that my classes start at 5:30P, he assured me that I would be able to get out of there around 5P and get to class on time. So they seem friendly and not hardcore, but of course I won't know until I meet the gang. A potential problem is that he told me to dress professional for the interview, and my best clothes aren't what one would call professional. I don't own a suit, so it's going to be the same slacks and tie and painful suede bucks that I wore to that sports marketing interview way back on January 24. In addition, I had already charged my electric shaver for eight hours in order to shave my head today, before I even knew I had a job interview. So I start the preliminary trimming process, and the battery sounds like it's ready to die immediately, so obviously I need a new battery. So I'll have a nice furry head for this interview, but I'm used to having a clean-shaved head to go with the clean-shaved face, so I'm going to be self-conscious and hope that the hair isn't a bad impression even though there's nothing weird-looking about my hair, it's very normal looking black man hair, still very short, now complete with slightly receding hairline as a reminder that I turn 30 in December. The 839 pimples on my face are something that I can't take care of before tomorrow, so I'm not going to think about them.

It's been a weird week as far as my dealings with women. I've suddenly become popular in the MSN online group that I met "Torrie" on, and I do mean suddenly, out of nowhere. A 40-year-old New Jersey blonde e-mailed me out of the clear blue. At first she was commenting on a message I had posted, but at the end of the e-mail she informed me that if I ever found myself in Jersey, I would be "a mountain she would love to climb." Um, okay. One of the managers of the group, a 30-year-old Texan BBW, all of a sudden started flirting me on the message boards, one of the messages being simply "Will you marry me?" I'm as honest and straightforward on those message boards as I am in my blog, so I must have said something that made her take an interest in me. I think I mentioned a dominatrix whip called cat-o-nine tails in a post as an aside, and she perked up to that because she fancies herself a fictional mistress. I've played along with her because it's harmless fun, and because I'm flattered by the attention, although I don't find her attractive. "Laurie" is in the same group, however, and I don't think she likes it that much, but with the amount of flirting she does there, I don't think she has a leg to stand on. She's going to Florida in October, and she has told a member who lives down there that she would want to see him. She claims that she doesn't do hook-ups, and I tend to believe her because she's been celibate for two years, so she could have already hooked up if she wanted. But she made me promise that I would tell her if I hooked up with a Boston Latina who posted the message to me that she would be coming to Chicago this weekend and wanted to meet me (not for a hook up, and I haven't heard from her so we didn't meet anyway). I promised, then I made her promise the same thing. A different woman privately e-mailed me and told me that she would be in Chicago next weekend and wanted to meet me. She's 35, Seattle BBW and a redhead, and I've never had a red, so I admit that when I told her okay it was with the intent of hooking up. I've since decided that it wouldn't be worth lying to Laurie, or worse, telling her to her face that I couldn't wait two lousy weeks for her to come to Chicago and fuck me. The redhead woman and I talked for forty minutes Saturday morning, and she seems cool, so if nothing else, I'll make a new friend. To top things off, Torrie stunned me by sending me a text message Friday morning saying she missed me. I told her that I missed her too, and for no other reason than I didn't know what else to say to her, I told her if she needed anything let me know. Her response: "What I want from you I can't have, you're too far away." I told her that I wished I could help her. What I didn't tell her is that I could help her by flying up there and fucking her brains out right this second, but I won't do that because I'm holding out for a shot at a hotter, non-smoking, not-a-bisexual-slut woman, and losing myself in the great sex and good times we always had could ruin that shot at the hotter, non-smoking, not-a-bisexual-slut woman. It's incredible, that may have been the most popular week I've ever had with women...and save Torrie, I've never met any of them. Wondrous invention, that internet.

Anyway, gotta run, I have to spend an hour or so screwing around with fantasy baseball stuff before I get some sleep and get ready for my big day tomorrow. To think, I signed up for classes so that I wouldn't have too much spare time on my hands. Tomorrow might be the beginning of a crazy couple of months where I have no spare time on my hands. Wish me luck.

Saturday, August 27, 2005

A Brief History Of American Education

Received in an e-mail. Thanx TEG!

Last week I purchased a burger at Burger King for $3.58. The counter girl took my $4.00 and I was digging for my change when I pulled 8 cents from my pocket and gave it to her. She stood there, holding the nickel and 3 pennies, while looking at the screen on her register I sensed her discomfort and tried to tell her to just give me two quarters, but she hailed the manager for help. While he tried to explain the transaction to her, she stood there and cried.

Why do I tell you this?

Because of the evolution in teaching math since the 1950s:

Teaching Math In 1950

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price. What is his profit?

Teaching Math In 1960

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is 4/5 of the price, or $80. What is his profit?

Teaching Math In 1970

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80. Did he make a profit?

Teaching Math In 1980

A logger sells a truckload of lumber for $100. His cost of production is $80 and his profit is $20 Your assignment: Underline the number 20.

Teaching Math In 1990

A logger cuts down a beautiful forest because he is selfish and inconsiderate and cares nothing for the habitat of animals or the preservation of our woodlands. He does this so he can make a profit of $20. What do you think of this way of making a living? Topic for class participation after answering the question: How did the birds and squirrels feel as the logger cut down their homes? (There are no wrong answers.)

Teaching Math In 2005

Un hachero vende una carretada de madera para $100. El costo de la produccisn es $80. Cuantes tortillas se puede comprar?

Thursday, August 25, 2005

The Sad Truth About My Place In Today's Society

"...after all these years of taking whatever pussy I can get, for the first time ever I feel like I don't want to settle for just any chick that will fuck me. I want more."--Me, from my 8/5/05 post "It's Over"

" a world where all the ladies, from prime cut to Mickey D's grade Z beef, are joining hands and singing, 'I don't want no scrubs,' now the websites are excluding people if they don't look like a fucking movie star. And the websites, the internet, really is my only shot, you know. 350-lb. black dudes with size 7 3/4 hat sizes can't walk up to girls on the street and spit game without a wad of hundreds, not in this world anyway."--Me, from my 8/25/05 post "Life In Limbo"

Uh oh. Just realized that if the internet is becoming more selective, and if even the least desirable women won't settle for less than a fit, attractive, educated guy with money, then I am condemning myself to celibacy for the rest of my life if I don't settle for just any chick that will fuck me. This would be a dilemma. And I don't know if I have an answer for said dilemma. This would be a good time to get drunk or high and forget about this dilemma, if only I got drunk or high. Guess I'll go play some PlayStation instead.

Life In Limbo

I feel like I may be on the verge of breaking through and living each day with some kind of purpose, even if the purpose is something as small as not overeating and attempting to turn one of my bad habits over. It's just a matter of me realizing that I am worth waking up every day with a purpose. I usually wake up cursing about how fucked up I am. But right now, I'm waking up in limbo, because I still have zero income; I still can't find an interview, much less a job; the tentative date for "Laurie" to come to Chicago and meet me (and hopefully pay me what she owes me, but she's claiming car problems now, so I'm not optimistic) isn't until the weekend of September 10; and I can't even go after financial aid to take more college classes until my high school transcript makes it from my high school to Harold Washington College, whenever that happens. They wanted to reject me outright for financial aid due to my relatively high salary last year, but since I'm unemployed now, if I can make a hardship claim gooey enough to persuade them to give me assistance, then I'm in. The problem is, I can't make a claim until my high school transcript is in their hands, and time is running out because fall classes start Monday. So, exactly like last year, I am against the wall trying to sneak in and register for classes before the opening bell. At least I'm not dealing with pain from gout arthritis while I'm running around this time.

I was actually offered a gig but I turned it down, and because they apparently were willing to give me the $15 an hour that I was making at the Chicago Board Options Exchange when they brought the guillotine down on me in January, a part of me is really regretting it. But the job was a bad situation all around. I applied online for a data processing gig at some scientific lab, but the description didn't say what shift the job was, where the job was, or what the compensation was. The people taking the application were actually a hiring firm, and somebody from that firm called me Tuesday afternoon, one day after I submitted my resume. He described the job to me--taking body parts(!), scanning a code on them, and entering assorted data into a computer, very boring and isolated but I actually prefer isolated rather than be around a lot of people trying to be social while I do my job--and then he asked me what shift I would consider. I said I didn't care. He said, "Even third?" I said that I didn't necessarily want third but I would take it. So of course he said that it was a third shift job. I wasn't thrilled about that, but then he asked what salary I wanted, and I said I was making over $15 an hour at my last job. He asked if that would be good for this job. I held my composure while saying sure. I was wildly happy about that because all of these other jobs I'm applying for are ranging between $9 and $12 an hour. I honestly don't expect to make more than about $10 in my next job because the market in Chicago just isn't very good. He brought my spirits back down by telling me that this gig was in some suburb out past O'Hare Airport. I don't have a car, so any job I get has to be accessible by public transportation, and because I did not know whether a Pace bus (Pace is the bus service for some of suburban Chicago, but not all) went to this place or if the bus even ran late enough for me to get to a third shift job, I started to worry. I realized that if a Pace bus didn't get there, then I'd have to take the train to O'Hare and then hail a taxi, which might destroy my take-home pay. Then this guy told me about the taskmaster boss, a woman who didn't tolerate tardiness or slacking off, and I realized that tardiness would be a big-time problem at least early on while I figured out the best way to get to this place. By the time this guy started to basically beg and plead me to hang in for the four-month duration of the contract for this job since it would come out of his ass if I didn't, I was souring on this gig big-time. Of course I didn't want to hang in for the four-month contract, no one takes a third shift job intending to turn down regular jobs that he may get later. It took all my restraint to resist telling him, "Hell yeah I'm leaving that place when I get another job! Are you fucking kidding?" I asked him how long I had to decide whether I wanted to do this. His response: "Orientation is tonight." Uh, sorry buddy. I thanked him for his honesty and begged him to keep me in mind for other jobs with his firm closer to the city. He said he would. He was probably lying.

I just couldn't up and run out somewhere I didn't know on several hours notice. It would be like having a day or two to decide whether to take a gig in another city. Different logistics for sure, but the same principle--a shit job, in an unfamiliar place, and you gotta decide in a very small amount of time. I couldn't do it. Eight months of unemployment I guess have not rendered me so desperate that I would drop everything and deprive myself of a semblance of a regular life for a decent salary. I still don't understand why I can't get a job during daylight hours. Ten years of work experience and performance in a pressurized environment doesn't mean shit to anyone unless you're white or a slut. To say I'm frustrated by this point is a gross understatement.

As I alluded to earlier, the excuses are starting to form as to why I'm not going to see the money that I loaned to these two women, Laurie and Cassandra. When I brought the subject up to Laurie during a conversation yesterday, she almost feigned a car accident up there in Detroit trying to show me how bad her brakes are. Okay honey, I'm not getting my money back, I get it, you don't have to kill yourself. Meanwhile back in the city limits, Cassandra chose last weekend, when she told me she would be giving me the first installment of what she owed me, to "lose" her cell phone, and she claims not to have a home phone line, so, you guessed it, there's absolutely no way I can get ahold of her. Imagine what went through my mind when I waited until Sunday to call her and find out where she was, only to hear a message that the owner of that phone number has requested that no incoming calls be accepted. Excuse me? I figured she was halfway to Acapulco by now. She called me Monday from her job and explained to me that she had that done once she knew her phone was missing so that messages wouldn't be backed up once she found it. So when I asked whether she would be able to spare any money for me now considering how much a new cell phone is going to cost, she laughed in my face and exclaimed, "No!" So I could actually call her at her job if I wanted to talk to her, but why? I already know what the deal is there. But hey, I bring all of this on myself, being so desperate for love. No, I'm not involved with either woman, but if they were men, chances are I wouldn't have loaned that kind of money.

So rent's due in a week, bills come in steadily as always, and I have nothing coming in as far as money. It's all dependent on my savings account right now, and that's dwindling. Over $8,000 in cash as a severance in January, and it's almost all gone. A lot of people like to criticize me and say that I need to toughen up, especially when I was whining about that fat whore "Karen." All I can say is, life might suck for everybody, but not everybody deals with it the same way. My way is to bitch and moan for a little while, maybe for a long while, but I always try to keep my eyes open for ways to improve the situation. And I just don't see a solution right now other than continuing to wait for one of these companies that has my resume to go ahead and give me at least an interview. Or rob a currency exchange or something.

I feel compelled to comment on a website called, which I came across the other day because a local newspaper did a story about it. is a singles site, and you can only join if you're hot enough. I'm not making this up. Your picture gets a 3-day judging period by the opposite sex members of the site, and if the majority think you're hot enough, only then are you allowed to join. In their own words, the site is "...reserved for people, who because of their attractive appearance and personal qualities, stand out from the majority." Well, I'll be damned. It's bad enough that no matter how fat, ugly, or slutty a woman is, she gets to have the highest standards for what kind of man can respond to her personal there's a site where guys like me are automatically eliminated before we even get a chance. Sure, the women on that site aren't fat or ugly, theoretically, but my point is, no matter how disgusting the woman is, she always has high standards for what kind of man she wants. Where the hell are fat, ugly guys that aren't rich supposed to go to find some companionship when the fat, ugly chicks who aren't rich won't even consider them?? So I guess is just a snapshot of society, where looks make all the difference. But it just made me shake my head, because in a world where all the ladies, from prime cut to Mickey D's grade Z beef, are joining hands and singing, "I don't want no scrubs," now the websites are excluding people if they don't look like a fucking movie star. And the websites, the internet, really is my only shot, you know. 350-lb. black dudes with size 7 3/4 hat sizes can't walk up to girls on the street and spit game without a wad of hundreds, not in this world anyway. I want to patent the rights on, where guys like me can hook up with women who don't think their pussies are made of gold and who want to go out with guys who don't look like The Rock or have million-dollar bankrolls and yet--gasp, shocking!!--might still have something to offer. I think this idea might make me a lot of money and allow me to have lipo and a facelift, so that I don't have to be in that category anymore and I can actually have a shot at getting married someday.

And I'm only half-joking.

Saturday, August 20, 2005

There Are Men Too Gentle To Live Among Wolves

"Laurie" posted this poem in her blog and dedicated it to me. Funny, it can be argued that being a gentleman is seen as a weakness by people these days. But the poem does capture how I feel on a daily basis.

There are Men Too Gentle to Live Among Wolves

"There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who prey upon them with IBM eyes
And sell their hearts and guts for martinis at noon.
There are men to gentle for a savage world
Who dream instead of snow and children and Halloween
And wonder if the leaves will change their color soon.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who anoint them for burial with greedy claws
And murder them for a merchant's profit and gain.
There are men to gentle for a corporate world
Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass
And pause to hear the distant whistle of a train.

There are men too gentle to live amount wolves
Who devour them with appetite and search
For other men to prey upon and such their childhood dry.
There are men to gentle for an accountant's world
Who dream instead of Easter eggs and fragrant grass
And search for beauty in the mystery of the sky.

There are men too gentle to live among wolves
Who toss them like a lost and wounded dove
Such gentle men are lonely in a merchant's world
Unless they have a gentle one to love."

James Kavanaugh

Sunday, August 14, 2005

Very Lazy Sundays

What better way to waste a weekend than with a Night Court marathon on TVLand, with a wrestling match in the south suburbs on Saturday night in between? Who says my life is a waste?!?

Anywho, no callbacks on my attempts at employment yet, and it's getting close to desperation time, where I start considering jobs I said I'd never take, like retail or telemarketing. No word from "Laurie" yet on when I will finally meet her, so still waiting there as well. My financial aid forms have been processed for this upcoming school year, so we'll see what happens now. I didn't think I would be able to take any classes this fall, what with zero income, but now there's a sliver of hope. They call that a "hopespot" in wrestling, where the good guy gets in some offense when he appears to be DOA, and then the bad guy looks vulnerable and...wait, sorry, I went into "wrestling geek mode" on you for a second...

So to summarize, still alone, still unemployed, still have bigger breasts than a lot of women...but that hopespot is out there somewhere, and when I find it, look out! Big Dre will be on his way!

And if I say that enough times, I might even believe it.

Sunday, August 07, 2005

The Testing Of My Generosity

In the last two days, I have handed $850 in cash to two different women as loans. I have never been romantically active with either of them, and I've never even met one of them. I'm still unemployed, and as of this moment the only income I have is the tax return on my unemployment benefits (which, of course, I cannot collect until 2006) and money owed to me by several people. Now I have to be honest with myself and figure out exactly why I loaned out money despite my situation. Is it true generosity for the sake of helping loved ones? Is it typical male lust, considering these were two attractive women? Would I have loaned this kind of cash to anyone I know with a dick instead of a pussy? I'm afraid I'm not introspective enough to honestly know the answers to these questions. But I will say this: The "Karen" fiasco must have sapped the anger and rage out of me, because I'm imagining scenarios where both of these women wind up telling me that they don't intend to give me my money back ever and then disappearing on me, and I can't imagine getting mad. Some pithy little aphorism about "If they had to lie to get the money from me, they must have needed it more than me" keeps popping up in my head. And also, I just feel so good about helping them right now, and finally having some kind of purpose besides being an example of how not to live, and maybe that good feeling is what's making me unable to even imagine anger right now.

Cassandra let me drive her car again yesterday for about an hour on a quiet side road near Bolingbrook, and I can definitely see improvement, although I'm still confused about simple things like which way to turn the steering wheel when the car is in reverse and I want to maneuver it right or left. She had brought up a $625 car repair bill weeks ago, but didn't press the issue with me, probably because she felt guilty about the $875 she already owed me from Kentucky Derby weekend. I asked her twice about the car repair bill in the last couple of weeks, and she just said that it still had to be paid, but she didn't ask when or if I was going to help her. So we had breakfast after I drove yesterday, then instead of driving more, I told her to go back to the city so that I could go to my bank because it closed at 2P on Saturdays. I made the withdrawal, she hugged and kissed me and told me that I was a blessing, then she told me that starting this month, on the 15th of the next four months, she planned to pay me $375 to erase her debt. More to entertain myself by seeing what her reaction would be than out of need, I reminded her that she borrowed an extra $100 Kentucky Derby weekend as fun money. She said that I told her at the time it was a gift, which I probably did. She said she would give that back too under the condition that I give her "gift" back to her once I'm employed and back on my feet. I agreed to that. Then I let her see my resume, which she thought looked good and couldn't understand why I wasn't getting at least interviews for jobs that I have been applying for, and she left. I'm not worried about the money because I still have enough in my savings account to support myself for at least two months before I have to start considering moving in with family and applying for welfare. (I miss gubment cheese and powdered milk. Not.)

Not long after I came home yesterday, "Laurie" mentioned during our daily online chat that she was being thrown out of the place where she had been staying and she needed $100 immediately as a deposit. She brought this up not as a request, but as a reason why she was feeling anxious, trying to "rack her brain" to come up with the cash. It was me who responded, "If you want me to wire you some money I can do it," to which she responded, "Dre...that's the nicest offer in the universe...really...for someone you don't know." She initially said that she didn't want me to do that right now, but she may change her mind and ask me later, and if she did she would be able to send me the money back on Monday "on my mother's grave." I said ok, then I called her just short of midnight last night because I was worried about her and left a voice mail telling her to please call me if she was still in trouble and needed my help. She called this morning and said she had a plan but didn't have much faith in the person that was to come through for her, then while we were chatting online today, she finally asked me how we would pull off the wire transaction. I told her to go to a nearby currency exchange and give me the address, then I would go to my currency exchange after I went to the ATM and I would Western Union her the money. She asked for $100 but said she actually needed $200 but whatever I could give was fine. Hey, $1500 to Cassandra, what's a couple of hundred to Laurie? She said that she can personally pay me the money back Thursday because the state fair where she works will end then and she was considering coming to see me anyway. It really doesn't matter to me when she pays me back. I want to see her and hold her and make love to her as soon as possible, whether she has the money or not, so I'm much more excited about maybe meeting her for the first time in less than a week. While I was out getting the money and then wiring it, she left an instant message quoting the song "100 Ways," written by Quincy Jones:

In your arms tonight
She'll reflect that she owes you
The sweetest of debts if she wants to pay
Find one hundred ways
Ya gotta believe it whoa
Love her today find one hundred ways

"You've shown me what's in your heart Dre," she then wrote. "I can only prove what's in mine." And boy, am I looking forward to that.

But what does it say about my mindset when I take her gratitude and Cassandra's gratitude with a huge grain of salt? Every time I start anticipating the money from Cassandra or the companionship from Laurie, a little voice in my head says, "What if you don't see the money or either of these chicks again? Remember, every other time you've put trust and faith in a woman, you've been betrayed or abandoned. Why the fuck should this be any different?" Very sobering thoughts to be sure. But at least I realize that it's not because I don't trust these women. It's because I honestly can't remember a time when I trusted a woman and didn't wind up alone in the end. The good news is that I am not obsessing over whether I will ever see the money or these women. If I get screwed again, hey, shit happens, and it's no one's fault but mine. With Cassandra, that's just an insane amount of money to lend to anyone without some sort of written contract recognizing it. And with Laurie, shit, I don't know her at all. Never even met her. Her pimp could be counting that cash right now while she is sucking some guy off behind that currency exchange. Her crack dealer could be counting the cash while she gets high. Do I really think that either of them is lying to me and going to screw me over? No, I don't. Let me make that clear. The thought of being screwed is floating through my head as a little reminder not to get my hopes too high. It is NOT the prevailing attitude in my mind, and I am not sitting here anticipating getting fucked over. I'm simply acknowledging that it could happen, especially with my past history, and that mentally I had better be prepared for it or else get ready to go back to the psych ward at Northwestern. But now, more than ever, I'm okay with it. No one wants to be lied to, but I believe that I helped two good people in tough situations, and that karma will combine with them to repay me greatly, and even if they don't repay me, I still did a few good deeds.

The other side of that is the side "Ronnie" is showing me right now. "Drew" and I went to see the movie "Wedding Crashers" last night (very funny, depraved and perverted in some areas in a psychological way, not necessarily in a totally physical way like a lot of today's comedies, and that was pleasantly surprising), and Drew invited Ronnie along. I actually heard part of a conversation Drew and Ronnie were having when I got into Drew's car after he picked me up at the train station, and Drew asked Ronnie if he, Drew, should pay for my movie ticket with the $11 he owed Ronnie and therefore knock off some of the $36 debt Ronnie has owed me for the past two months, and I could hear Ronnie reply, "I don't care." I couldn't fucking believe that. See, that's why Ronnie is a piece of shit and I don't ever plan on speaking to him again. This is his attitude over the debt he owes me. "I don't care." That's on top of not calling me and informing me of the status of the debt. Hell, I didn't know he was even going to acknowledge the debt, but if that's how he wants to do it, "I don't care," then I don't care either. I told Drew that the debt as far as I'm concerned is over, because I don't even fucking want the money from Ronnie anymore if he's going to neglect it as if it's something he shouldn't have to be bothered with. But unless Drew tells Ronnie I said that, Ronnie isn't going to know that the debt's dropped, because since he hasn't seen fit to speak to me in two months, I don't see fit to tell him shit. And he is still dating a woman in Indiana, so he's got some money, or else he wouldn't be able to drive out there and spend time with her.

Ronnie blew us off, by the way. We got to the theater about 45 minutes before the 8:50P showing, and the theater is somewhat near Ronnie's house (20 to 30 minutes away), but even if the theater was farther away, Ronnie and Drew agreed on this theater. Drew didn't decide that we were going there, that's where they agreed to go before I even got into Drew's car. But the movie began with no word from him, and when Drew missed the opening to step out and call his ass, Ronnie didn't answer the phone. Class act all the way. All I can do is make sure I don't treat people like scum and try to do something with my life to make sure that my mother having me wasn't a waste. Any rewards I get for my deeds (such as a future favor from Cassandra or great sex, marriage and a family from Laurie) will be icing on the proverbial cake.

Friday, August 05, 2005

The Definition Of My Self-Hatred

Stolen from an MSN message board--thanx Foxxi!

Jealousy is simply and clearly the fear that you do not have value. Jealousy scans for evidence to prove the point - that others will be preferred and rewarded more than you. There is only one alternative - self-value. If you cannot love yourself, you will not believe that you are loved. You will always think it's a mistake or luck. Take your eyes off others and turn the scanner within. Find the seeds of your jealousy, clear the old voices and experiences. Put all the energy into building your personal and emotional security. Then you will be the one others envy, and you can remember the pain and reach out to them. ~Jennifer James

It's Over

Where one door closes, I have heard that another one opens. There may be many important doors that open as a result of today's conversation; time will tell.

"Torrie" and I have decided to end our relationship. We had a talk a few nights ago where she basically kept asking me if I wanted to continue our long-distance romance, and I kept saying, "I don't know." I wasn't man enough to straight-up dump her, but I planted seeds in her mind that I wasn't really excited about our relationship. I was hoping that she would take the hint and call me back and tell me that she doesn't want to go on, and today she did exactly that. We agreed to remain friends, but I know that will become a problem when A) she finds a new lover and I become jealous, and B) if we ever were to meet up as "just friends," because we did have a lot of physical chemistry and the urge to have sex would be tremendous. Hooking up and having sex wouldn't be such a bad thing--hell, it's the reason we got together in the first place--but the point of me dumping her is that I want more out of life than meeting a woman and fucking her and leaving. If I didn't make Torrie believe that I wanted out, we could have gone around and around in that circle for an endless amount of time. And it wouldn't be horrible, it would be two adults having great, consensual sex, and there's nothing wrong with that. It's just that there's a next step after that if one of us wants more out of a relationship than just fucking, and for me to take that next step, Torrie would have to be someone that I would want to potentially be with on a long-term basis, and by that, I mean eventually marriage. And the truth is, I would never want to marry Torrie. There are many reasons, but the most important is that I don't feel like she and I are a lifelong match. We're so different. I feel like she's still a stranger to me in some respects, and that's no surprise considering we've only met three times in our lives. But I have always figured that my future wife would be someone who I felt such a connection to physically, emotionally, and spiritually, that I would feel a magnetic force between us, drawing me towards her no matter how much I want to pull away. I've felt that before, with "Yasmine" and with a girl in eighth grade, although neither of them felt the same about me. I didn't feel that way about Torrie. And after all these years of taking whatever pussy I can get, for the first time ever I feel like I don't want to settle for just any chick that will fuck me. I want more. I want someone who I desire to be with and learn about on a possible lifetime basis, and she would want to be with and learn about me for a lifetime. I don't intend to settle for less ever again.

How much "Laurie" has to do with the way I feel is something that I cannot ignore. I have to be honest. The thought of an attractive, blonde woman insisting that she would be interested in getting together with me and that we could be soulmates makes me feel like the luckiest man in the world. I feel like something is on the horizon when I think about Laurie, something special, something that I've never felt before, something that will finally put an end to my search for someone who understands me and will love me unconditionally. Because as much as we don't want to admit it, we all want to be loved and understood, and I'm neither right now. And even when I was in previous relationships, I didn't feel loved or understood, and that's because I wasn't in those relationships because I was interested in the person, it was because the person indicated that she was desperate enough to fuck me. Now, Laurie has indicated that as well, but unlike my past lovers, she is attractive and could choose anyone to fuck, but she has not had sex in two years because she has been waiting for just the right person to become intimate with again, and she thinks that I might be that person. That makes me feel incredible. I am trying to imagine a life without Laurie simply because I needed to dump Torrie for reasons other than getting together with Laurie, but I can't help it. I want to see Laurie badly. I want to find out if we are what the other has been looking for. But hey, I could have held on to Torrie and lied to Laurie and hooked up with her while keeping Torrie on the side. I did not do that. It's important that I give myself credit for cutting Torrie loose instead of clinging onto her like she's my last hope of ever dating again, like I did when "Sarah" dumped me around this time last year. And Sarah was four million times worse than Torrie as far as qualities that I wouldn't want in a potential wife--both are loose and bisexual, but Sarah was actively fucking other women and not considering it cheating, as well as staying in the houses of "masters" overnight being a BDSM slave and getting off on it. It's unbelievable where I am mentally now compared to where I was just a year ago, or even a few months ago. I'm not all the way confident as far as walking around thinking in my head, "I know I'm going to find the woman I'm looking for because I'm the shit!" But I do not ever intend again to become intimate with a woman who I don't find attractive or morally upstanding simply because she is willing to fuck me. When I think of all the pain I could have avoided in the last couple of years from "Karen," Sarah, "Jane," and the co-worker who shall remain nameless if I would have just been honest with myself and admitted that I didn't want to be with any of them because of their looks or personality but because and only because I flirted with them and they returned the interest and I thought, "Hey! Maybe they're crazy enough to fuck me!!"...well, all I can do is shake my head and move on to the next chapter of my life a little wiser and with higher standards for myself.

Speaking of confidence, I put a beatdown on my fear of rejection and went to two different places to apply for work after Torrie and I broke up today. This is a big step for me because I haven't been on the street looking for work since I became unemployed simply because I always thought to myself, "Why would anyone want to hire me? I'm not college age and I'm uneducated." I'm starting to see things a little differently. Not a lot of confidence still, but enough to know that whatever job I go for I have ten years of work experience to testify on my behalf that I am a hard worker who gets the job done when given the opportunity, and maybe someone will see that, but only if I put my ass out there and apply for jobs. The alternative? These past nine years I've been sitting in my apartment by myself afraid to go out in the world and go for anything. Can't keep doing that. Laurie in her blog said that she tries to find five things to wake up to every day, because the alternative is turning on her car in the garage with the doors closed. That's what I've been doing. I've been sitting here separated from the world, waiting to die slowly. I don't want to die anymore. And for that, even if she and I never get together, I owe Laurie unlimited thanks. But it's up to me to take it from here and live my life without fear. A daunting task for sure, but now more than ever, I feel like I'm ready to give it a shot.

And notice, no updates on Karen. She can be getting gangbanged by 400 niggers right now. I just don't give a fuck anymore. What a great feeling.

Wednesday, August 03, 2005

Testes, Testes, 1, 2...3!?!

Just a quick entry to mark the end of my summer semester of college with a final exam in humanities tomorrow, and hopefully the beginning of a career with the U.S. Postal Service with a test today. My unemployment has officially run out, so this test is pretty fucking big. I saw someone Sunday who said he just took the postal test a couple of weeks ago, but they told him not to expect to hear anything for three weeks, so he still had not heard from them. Shit. That means that I have to keep looking for work even after I take the test. Them's the breaks, I guess. Oh, and one more small thing: I intentionally erased the URL from my computer's history containing "Karen's" phony Tawanda Yahoo profile, so if I want to keep updating myself on that whore, I would have to punch in the URL again, and I don't plan on doing that. It's one thing for her to hurt me, but for me to keep looking back at how she's carrying on with her life is just hurting myself, and at this moment, I'm fucking through looking back. I may change my mind later on. But I doubt it.

Monday, August 01, 2005

"Big Baby"

I had been planning to go on a daytrip with my family this weekend, but my own laziness almost prevented it from happening, and then circumstances actually did prevent it. In the process I encountered the reactions that can occur when I fuck up and ask someone else to bail me out. And I don't like who I am or what others think of me when I do that. It's comical how immature I am sometimes, but it hurts badly when those I care about get mad at me for it and then make jokes about it. I feel like a big joke.

Here's what happened: My uncle and his wife were going on a one-day trip to Isle of Capri Casino in Bettendorf, IA, this past Saturday, a bus trip being set up by the church that they got married at almost twenty years ago. They asked me if I wanted to go, and I asked my friend Cassandra if she wanted to go. She said sure. So I had known about this trip for three or four weeks. I knew that the bus left early on the morning of Saturday, July 30, and to prevent exactly the kind of shit that wound up happening, I had planned the whole time to go to my uncle's house Friday and spend the night so that we could all get up and out at the same time Saturday morning. A couple of weeks ago my uncle invited Cassandra and me to a dinner the Friday evening before the casino trip. The day before that dinner, last Thursday, Cassandra informed me that she would not be able to make the dinner party, and because it was a couples-themed dinner (despite Cassandra and me not being a couple), I wasn't going to go if I didn't have a date. So my thoughts of getting up early Friday morning and packing my good clothes for Friday evening and my play clothes for Saturday were now reduced to just getting up sometime Friday evening, packing some jeans and a shirt, and going to my uncle's to spend the night. Well, I studied and did some laundry Friday afternoon, and because I'm so out of shape, apparently that sapped all of my energy, and as a result I didn't go to my uncle's Friday night. I stayed home. I knew that I had to get up very early to get over to my uncle's Saturday morning, because his wife told me that they were leaving to go to the church at 8:00A, where they would get on the bus, and that the bus was to leave at 8:30A sharp. I knew all of that when I woke up Saturday morning at a little past 5:30A. I knew I had to hustle and get my ass in gear because I live on the north side, and they live on the south side.

But I didn't get my ass in gear quickly enough, and as a result, I found myself at about 7:15A standing on the platform waiting for the "L" train to come. This was very very bad, because it is absolutely impossible to take the "L" from where I live to the street that my folks live on and then catch the bus to their house in time for me to be there by 8:00A. The train ride would be close to 45 minutes all by itself, and then the bus ride after is about another 20 to 30 minutes. So I called Cassandra, who lives on the south side, and asked her if she could pick me up when I got to the south side on her way to the church bus. At first she misunderstood me and thought that I was asking her to come to the north side and pick me up at home and then drive back to the south side to catch this bus, which not only would not have worked given the time constraints, but on top of that I would never ask someone on the south side to pick me up on the north side so we can drive back to the south side. I always come meet "Ronnie" on the train when we're going to go hang out somewhere in the south suburbs, and it's never a problem for me. Unfortunately, Cassandra was in full rant mode, and she wasn't listening to any request I was making for her to interrupt her plans to accommodate me. "You want me to do what?!? Come on now Dre!" she screamed. I tried to calmly tell her that it would work because the church isn't far from the train stop, but she just fussed and fumed and finally told me that she would call me back once she figured out what to do. At this point I was mad at her for yelling at me. If you don't feel like you can make it work, or even if you just want to say "Fuck you" and you don't want to do it, just say so. But I didn't think my request was unreasonable, especially considering the near $1,000 cash I loaned Cassandra a few months ago. I wanted to scream back, "So a little drive out of your way is inconvenient, but $1,000 isn't? What the fuck is the difference??" Instead, I called my uncle and asked him exactly where the church was, and told him that I would be coming directly there on the bus because I couldn't possibly make it to his house by 8:00A. Cassandra called back soon after that and gave me the suggestion that I ask my uncle to meet me at the last train stop because it's on the street that the church is on and he has to go past there to get to the church. She doesn't know my uncle very well, and the screaming and cursing from him would be worse than what she gave me earlier, so that was not an option.

So I stayed on the phone with Cassandra after I got to the last train stop, and she told me how to get to the church from there. When I stepped off the bus a half-block from the church, it was 8:31A. I figured I had fucked up yet again, but I was somewhat at peace with it. Instead of beating myself up the whole way there, I considered that it wasn't a big deal and that if I missed the church bus, I would just have to go back home and chill, no big deal. The church parking lot was full of people waiting for this bus that was leaving at 8:30A "sharp," and we would be waiting for an hour and a half while those in charge of the trip attempted to find out why the bus won't start before announcing at 10:00A that they can't fix it and they can't find a replacement bus, so the trip was canceled. So it wound up being academic in the end. But the talk between my uncle's wife and Cassandra was my stumbling and bumbling. "I'm already in a hurry rushing around..." says Cassandra to my uncle's wife, to which she continues with a laugh, "...and here comes Big Baby here calling you, 'Come pick me up!'", and Cassandra says, "Yeah! Exactly! I couldn't believe it!" This wasn't an aside that I happened to overhear. This was right in front of my face. I've known my uncle's wife ever since he started dating her in the mid-80s, and she's one of the sweetest, kindest women I have ever known, and she's always been compassionate to me and my many struggles with life. So for her to call me a big baby right in front of me hurt a lot, even though I know she didn't mean to hurt me by saying it. And as far as Cassandra is concerned, I really don't have a lot of good things to say about her right now. How many nights have I stayed up with her on the phone listening to her bitch and moan about her mother and her sister and all these people in her life using her and how sick of it she is and how comfortable she feels having me in her life because she knows that I'm not trying to use her for anything? And for her to yell at me like I'm one of those parasites in her life? Like any of them would loan her $5, much less $1,000?? She can go fuck herself. She had been taking me out and letting me practice driving in her car the last couple of weekends, and she wanted to take the now open Saturday and take me driving again, but I wanted nothing to do with her. She acted like she didn't understand why I didn't want to go, but I think she did. She even asked if I was going back home, which I was because Sunday morning I had to meet "Jacob" up north to drive to a meeting of the members of the big-money fantasy baseball league we're in. But she was offering to drive me home now that time wasn't a problem. And because I didn't want to tell her to her face that I would rather take the bus and train back home than be in the same car with her, I got in my uncle's car and went to their house with them, then hustled to the north side on the train Sunday morning to meet Jacob. I'd rather have done that than deal with Cassandra, because I was going to risk cursing her out if I had to sit in her car alone with her for two seconds, and as much as she pissed me off, I didn't want to do that.

I realize that my anger and hurt at Cassandra and my uncle's wife joking around at my expense is exactly the kind of reaction that one would expect from a "Big Baby." I know, I know. I can't change that sensitive part of me overnight, or maybe ever. I am what I am, and I've always been someone that gets hurt easily when someone scolds me for asking a favor. I already feel like I was a burden on my family when my mom died because they weren't ready to raise a ten-year-old. And ever since then, I've always tried to be independent and do things by myself and not have to ask anyone for help. But transportation is a thorny issue, because I don't have a car. So sometimes I do have to ask for favors from others. I guess I just didn't expect Cassandra to lose her head from this one small favor I was asking, considering what I've done for her and considering all the users she says she has in her life already. I thought I was one of the good guys, but she treated me like a typical horny nigga trying to get something out of her, which I've never done. I still haven't spoken to her about this, but I am not going to let it go and be submissive and let her run me down like I'm some bum. I'm going to tell her how I feel the next time we speak, and if she's upset by it, I don't care.

My plan is to also tell "Torrie" how I feel when I speak to her tonight, and yes, that means ending our relationship. Torrie spent last weekend telling me how she was going to try to get this past Saturday off work and drive to Bettendorf, IA, to see me at the casino. This despite her insisting to me that she doesn't have the time or money to come visit me here in Chicago after I've been to Minneapolis three times to see her, and I'm the unemployed one. Then for the last four days I haven't heard a word form her. She left me an e-mail Sunday saying that she had "lost her cell phone." Nice timing. I had a feeling she wouldn't show. This whole affair between us has been full of me visiting her and giving her what she wants, her promising to come see me and return the favor, then excuse after excuse why she can't do what she said she would. I'm sick of it. She gave me an avenue that I can use to break it off with her gently. She commented in her e-mail that she's afraid to fall in love with me because I have told her that if I get this postal service job that I'm testing for this coming Wednesday that I'm staying in Chicago, and that makes her feel like I've put her "on the back burner." And what the fuck did she expect me to do for her when she's done nothing for me??? So that's going to allow me to tell her that I don't want her to wait on the back burner for me because I may never come up to Minneapolis permanently, and that she was right when she tried to end it a few months ago because we don't have time for each other. It's very important for me to note that I don't have anything set up with any other women, except for "Laurie" still claiming that she's going to spend time with me when she's through with her business up in Detroit, but she says she's not promising me anything. I'm not dumping Torrie in order to get with someone else. I'm doing it because I don't respect her, I don't like her, and I was only with her because she can fuck. And I think I deserve better. If I'm alone for a long time waiting for something better, so be it. That's more time for me to improve some things about myself, like not being such a "Big Baby" and growing up a little. Okay, growing up a lot. I don't have a clue what the next few months are going to be like, but I'm approaching my 30th birthday in December, and dammit, I've got to start doing things differently if I expect my next 30 years to be of a higher quality than this first 30. Someway, somehow, I've got to start living life like a man, and not like a scared little baby looking for someone to protect him. I've got to protect myself.