Tuesday, March 28, 2006

Taking The Good With The Bad

Good news for those of you that hate me: My school bus pass got eaten by the train turnstile last Wednesday, and the CTA made me wait a week for them to mail a new pass not to me but to my school instead of just retrieving my pass from said turnstile and giving it back to me. Gotta love the CTA. They gave me a 5-day pass, but then told me that it takes 5 to 7 days for the new pass to be mailed to my school, in essence telling me in regards to those days after the 5-day pass expires that the U-Pass hasn't arrived at the school yet: "Uh, we don't give a fuck." And sure enough, the pass had not arrived yesterday, meaning I had to pay to get to school today. Oh, and this morning the sewer backed up and my basement flooded. Someone have a handgun I can borrow?

Bad news for those of you that hate me: The U-Pass was there at school today, and I just called my aunt's husband, who said that he got his crew and cleared the sewer blockage and that "everything's secured." Oh, and the lady that I am visiting in two weeks hasn't backed out yet. Guess I don't need that handgun after all.

Sunday, March 26, 2006

The Three 6 Mafia Plague Continues To Spread

Priorities, Priorities

A couple of incidents where I wonder why I value the things that I value:

First, the reason that I am home today, Sunday, when my work schedule says that I should be at work, is because I used the one sick day that I have accrued by being at J.P. Morgan Chase for a month because I wanted to take part in the live fantasy baseball draft for the free online league that my friend "Jacob" and his friends and I have every year. I hated the idea of trying to rank every player in order of preference for a 12-team, 20-plus-round draft and letting the computer pick automatically for me because I always wind up with guys that I didn't want. I'm very glad that I was there live because I had the #1 pick and I was so proud to be able to click on Alex Rodriguez and take him live instead of getting home and seeing it later. Not the same feeling, not by a long shot. I was also happy to chat with the guys and Jacob's mom and girlfriend and talk shit with them. I think the best line this year occurred when someone drafted Alex Gonzalez. There are two different shortstops in the major leagues named Alex Gonzalez, and neither are All-World or anything, but one used to be a Cub and he sucked, so Jacob the Cub fan really hates him. So he says: "I hope that was the good Alex Gonzalez that got taken," and I said, "There's a good Alex Gonzalez?!?," and Jacob said, "Uh, there's a better one," to which I replied, "That's like saying one of my exes looks better than the other--they're still all crap." His girlfriend didn't appreciate that one.

The other measure of my priorities comes in the fact that I am once again planning a trip out of state to meet a woman from the internet. My aunt didn't like that idea, first obviously because of my poor track record with these encounters, but also because she isn't charging me rent to stay in the dungeon here and she wonders if I'm taking advantage of her by using some of my money to make this trip when I'm supposed to be saving up to get an apartment. I completely understand her feelings, but I'm actually not using the cash that I'm saving for the trip. I have always put those trips on my credit card, so technically, my actual cash flow is not affected at all. But my aunt knows that if she asks for money to help cover the costs of me staying down here, of course I would oblige. At least I'm not flying somewhere for a booty call. The woman that I am meeting is actually a virgin and prefers to wait until marriage to change that, so this connection is completely driven by our attraction to each other's spirits and personalities, and not our bodies. Hell, the most recent picture she showed me is a very conservative shot from four years ago, so I'm definitely not going there for the lust factor that has governed so many of my past poor decisions. This is about a potential soulmate and seeing if the spark and chemistry is as strong in person as it seems to be over the telephone. Of course, I have to wonder how much of it on my part is the soulmate factor, and how much is simply me prioritizing happiness and acceptance from a woman over everything else. And I have to hope that this does not turn out bad like all the other relationships I've had. No matter how much love and passion and caring I poured into the women in my past, I always came out hurt and heartbroken in the end. This should be different because my motivation is so different. Instead of looking for love and acceptance in the vagina of a woman, I'm sticking to matters of the heart and spirit, and so long as there's honesty and openness on both sides, whatever the outcome, it should be mutual and drama-free. And I'm at a place where I will not place all of the value and all of my joy on her shoulders, because I finally realize that I can't put that burden on anyone's shoulders. I am in charge of my happiness and joy from life. This lady, should she choose to accompany me throughout life, is only a potential partner sharing that joy, NOT the sole source of my future joy. As long as I keep that in mind and keep the pressure off of her, I anticipate things will go smoothly. At least, as smoothly as things can go between two shy, intense, passionate people who want a future with each other very badly.

Monday, March 20, 2006

Beat The White Sox If You Can, Survive...If They Let You!

I knew there was a reason why I've always loved A.J. Pierzynski and Ozzie Guillen.


Saturday, March 18, 2006

Feeling Crabby

For once, I'm not talking about my usual sunny disposition, lol. I'm talking about the all-you-can-eat Alaskan snow crab legs at King Crab on Halsted and Willow. I checked it out after work Friday, and I must have eaten a million of those things. And since the restaurant was empty in the back at the time that I went, I was able to have the television to myself, so it was a White Sox preseason game, the Michael Jordan double-nickel at Madison Square Garden from 1995 on ESPN Classic, then the college basketball games. I had a newspaper to keep me company and help me forget the solitary feeling of having a table for one, but I didn't need the paper. It's funny, as I get a little more skilled at quickly opening the envelopes at the job, I carried that over to cracking the crab shells. I hardly took a rest for two full hours, cracking shells and eating nonstop, working up the crab, if you will. I actually enjoyed a dinner by myself, and the crab was very good. I've been moving even slower than usual this weekend recovering from that gorging and just taking it easy on my last free weekend for a long time. Next week I start my regular schedule of taking Tuesdays and Wednesdays off, then going back Thursdays through Mondays. I had several moments where I thought of how I should go find a piece of tail since this was my last free weekend. But I thought about how I would go about doing that, and since I still don't and probably never will go out and try to pick women up in person, that would leave the usual--Craigslist.org, the large people's singles site where I met "Karen" and where "Grace" currently hangs out, the Yahoo groups, etc. And I'm not interested in going down that road right now. It's been thirty years of running around like a chicken with its head cut off trying to get laid. Even during the six years of celibacy from 1996 to 2002, I started looking for chicks on the net during that time, but I wasn't successful until Karen, and we know how that turned out. I'm going to chill out on that shit right now. I wish I could say that I will never go there again, but I know how I get when the weather is warm and the city is chock full of hot women dressing scantily. But it's been nothing but drama with these internet girls, and I don't feel like putting out the effort to find one desperate enough to sleep with me. There are more important things that I'm doing now, at least more important to me. My dick can wait until I meet someone who doesn't want to use me for a student loan or hasn't fucked 100 guys in the last calendar year.

Saturday, March 11, 2006

Hold Up...Nobody Move! My Eye's On The Floor Somewhere! Don't Move!!


I've never seen anything like this before in my life. Villanova guard Allan Ray got accidentally poked in the eye during a college basketball game last night, and the above link contains a video clip showing how far out of his head Ray's eye was pushed upon impact. Do NOT watch that video unless you have a very strong stomach.

Someone Who Speaks My Language

A woman who I recently met online has done nothing but understand everything I have told her about myself and why I am the way I am, why I say the things I say, and what has happened to me to construct who I am today. She has some things in common that makes it easier for her to understand me, such as being an only child and being an articulate, intelligent black person and being looked at oddly for it. But she's a sports fan too, basketball specifically. I was talking to her about one of my favorite ballers, Jason Kidd, and she immediately says: "Oh yes, he's one of my favorites too. I really like how he rebounds, he's such a good rebounder for being a point guard." As the heavens opened and cherubs with harps began to play...oh wait, that was just me overreacting to feeling a connection with someone again. But it's really good to talk to a woman about things other than sexual tendencies. Seems that my sports "expertise" has always been a turn-off for the women I've met, or it's just not something they're so into that they would want to have a conversation about it. But I've always had a feeling that my ultimate soulmate would be able to diagram the pick-and-roll, extol the virtues of the suicide squeeze, and explain why the West Coast offense is all wrong for Michael Vick. I just have to learn patience and wait and see where things go with this lady. Several years ago, I would have proposed to her after she made that Jason Kidd statement, and I would not have been joking. I have to train myself to pull the reins and trot instead of always sprinting forward. Life will probably be much more enjoyable for me once I master that skill. Not to mention how much more enjoyable dating me would be for a woman, without me exerting constant pressure to love me NOW! DAMMIT! RIGHT NOW!! Very not cool.

Next week is my last week training for my job. After next week, I will go to my regular schedule of Thursdays through Mondays, and I will report to my module on the live floor and submit to whatever work they put in front of me. Hopefully they will be patient. My big problem right now with the work is my low productivity. I can be a perfectionist, so I will absentmindedly spend five minutes taping something back together that was ripped during the mail opening process because I'm trying to line up the tape perfectly. Or I will take five or ten seconds every time I place a check or an envelope on its pile straightening the pile instead of just piling the shit up and ironing it out after I'm done opening all the envelopes. I've never watched the TV show "Monk," but that's what I call myself when I find myself doing those things. I'm simply going to have to train myself to stop doing those little things that take away from the number of checks I process in a day, which is nowhere near the 70% of the expected level that I should be at after my first month. More Efficient, Less Bullshit. Hmm, that's catchy. I'll have to get that tattooed on me somewhere after I get the Ticking Time Bomb tattoo.

How Did I Get Here?

From today's Chicago Sun-Times: "As many as 100,000 marchers crammed the streets of the Near West Side and the Loop Friday, demanding better treatment for immigrants and opposing a bill that they say would deem many of them criminals.

The marchers waved American flags, chanted at deafening levels and snarled traffic for five hours."

So that's why every Latino and Latina in the entire city of Chicago walked past me downtown yesterday after I left work. I really need to start reading the daily newspaper again.

Wednesday, March 08, 2006

Your Winner, And New World Wrestling Champeen...The Ticking Time Bomb!

That's what someone called me in a recent e-mail, a ticking time bomb. You know, all the fake nicknames and phony personalities I've imagined for myself if I ever got in shape and became a professional wrestler...and that's the best one ever. I would just walk to the ring with the usual severely pissed-off look that I always have, maybe a black towel over my head for a rugged, intimidating effect, a la Mike Tyson, and I'd stop in the aisle and look at some fan yelling obscenities in my face and I'd raise my arm backhanded as if I'm about to haul off and bitch-slap him or her, then once I got to the ring I would just grab the ring mic and go off on the crowd and get them so incensed that they would be ready to jump in the ring and lynch me. That would be fucking awesome. The Ticking Time Bomb. Wow. They always say that the best nicknames are given to you, not invented by you.

Oh, I want to add another film to the short list of powerful movies or documentaries I've recently seen that were so effective at portraying race in America that they left me literally shaking afterwards. I saw the Jack Johnson special on PBS last year, and I learned that taking a white woman across state lines and having sex with her used to be against the law, which I can't imagine. I watched Crash with "Shelley" back in November, and we were both very moved by that movie. I was surprised that it won the Oscar though--I figured everyone was just madly in love with the gay cowboys. This past week I saw Rosewood in my African American history class. That was a portrayal of what happens when one married white girl gets slapped around by one of her many white lovers back in the early 1900s and decides to yell out to the whole town that it was a nigger that did it just to try to hide the real reason that she was bruised up. Basically, the entire area gets burned and littered with black carcasses, many of them strung up from trees. Not surprising considering the times, but still very sobering. It's very easy for me to take for granted how uneventful it has been every time I've been out with a white woman. I've never had a word said to me. And I appreciate seeing movies like this to remind me that it wasn't always that way.

In other words, anyone who thinks that I hate white women doesn't know me at all.

Sunday, March 05, 2006

Cleaning Up The Trash

Caught a little flak for my post about trailer trash last week, including the white woman who listened to my description of "Shelley" and within 15 seconds said "Sounds like white trash to me!" getting very upset, calling me some choice names, including racist, and threatening to send some policeman friend after me. Nice mature reaction. IT WAS A FUCKING JOKE. Nowhere in that post or anywhere else do I express the opinion that all white women are trailer trash. If anyone read the actual post, the phrase "trailer trash" came to my mind after my aunt's husband made the joke about me preferring white meat. When he said that, in a flash I thought about the trash that I've brought home to my family, namely "Karen" and "Sarah," and I understood why he would say that. So I wasn't thinking about all white women, just the ones I've dated. I spent the last 3 years searching for the lowest trash that I could find specifically because I didn't have the self-esteem and confidence to think that I could do better, and now as a result, my family feels free to crack wise about my choices in women, and I deserve it because I pursued them, but I still hate the fact that my folks feel that way. But hey, the more jokes they make, the more I will be motivated to never settle for trash--white, black, or otherwise--again, no matter how lonely I get. Not that I have time to settle for anything right now; between the job and four nights of school, I wouldn't be able to perform even if someone threw herself at my feet.

But here it is for the official record: For all the trash that took offense to my joke, and for the people who aren't trash but feel sympathy for trash and don't think that I should pick on them, I apologize. If you're trash and don't accept my apology, I completely understand. If you're not trash and don't accept because you want to believe that I hate all white people, go fuck yourself up the ass with a broomstick. And have a nice day.