The End of Another Year...

Well, it's 10:55 pm EST, and I'm here. At home. While I feel like I should be out, committing acts of crime/debauchery, I'm actually not that upset that I'm here. As bad as it sounds, I just got back from a week off from work (note to first timers: always take Christmas off, and a few days before or after New Year's, if you have the time), so my body is not used to the early rising and boring days again. I've been extremely tired lately, not only because I have to readjust again, but because I don't sleep well anyway. Seriously, is it so hard to ask for like 7 hours of quality shut-eye? Most nights, if they're not weekends, involves me laying down and waking up numerous times overnight. I think it's because my bed is a little too small for me now, or it's losing it's comfortability (invented a new word), but ever since college, the quality of sleep I get during the week leaves a lot to be desired. I've tried numerous techniques to help, to no avail. I may have to start drinking before bed, but I know that can only lead me to problems down the road, so I guess I'll just tough it out. But it leads me to be exhausted all day. I get by, I think because my body is used to it at this point, although it's not exactly a good thing. Oh well.

The reason I'm writing is because I want to let all the two readers out there about my 2009 plans. I hesitate to call them "resolutions," because I'd be more inclined to break them, and resolutions are overrated anyway. No one ever carries them out. They just say them to make themselves feel some sense of accomplishment, when in reality, they never plan to follow through on them in the first place. But me? I'm all about changing 2009 for the better. I told myself at the end of 2007 that 2008 would be "my year." I spent last New Year's in a Brooklyn apartment with no indoor heat surrounded by people I didn't know. I ended up sleeping in a camping chair with my coat on, swearing to myself this would never happen again. Well this year could be worse. Granted, I'm warm and around my family, but I still feel like I should be doing something, anything, even if it was sitting in my basement with a few people drinking beers. I'm only 23 (can't believe I'm almost 24...yikes). I feel like I should be out "tearing it up" like a lot of other people my age. But while I did not call/text/IM/strip-a-gram anyone, no one contacted me either. I guess I just expected to be notified of something. So partially my own fault. I probably could have stirred something up, but at this point, whatever.

But I need 2009 to be the year. The year things turn around for me. So here's my three "New Year's Goals" for 2009:

1. Move out. I was all about this awhile ago. Almost did it too. But after weighing my options, I decided against it. Since then, I've bought a (used) car, which set my finances back a bit, but still have something in there. While I really want my independence, it's mainly my commute. While an hour and a half doesn't sound that bad, try doing that everyday for a year and a half. I'm really looking into the Jersey City area right now...not in New York, but close to the city, close to home. And would cut my commute over half. Prices are reasonable; comparable to NY, but you get more space. I think that moving out will help with my other two goals...

2. New job. This and moving out are a tossup, but at the end of the day, I can work here if I had to. Now, don't get me wrong, that place all of a sudden hasn't become the Playboy Mansion and I never want to leave. I had another one of those "why am I here" moments recently; for every good day there's two bad days. I had another run-in with this piece of trash employee. Now this guy has given me a hard time since I started; and for some reason, my boss keeps making me do projects for him. Well, since he's a huge moron and has the IQ of a jar of cherries, he gave me some static about some question someone else asked. He just doesn't get that I'm trying to help him. I really need to tell this asshole off. I'm not worried about getting in trouble anymore. After being there so long, I realized they only fire people if they're 1) chronically late or 2) kill someone...maybe. It's days like that where I could leave in a minute's notice, and not feel the least bit of remorse. It's like a zoo there; I've explained that enough I think in past posts. They try to be professional but it's run like an out-of-control nursery. Get me out of there sometime before the year is over, or I may just jump in front of a train. And I can do arrange for that too.

3. Improve my romantic life. I think if one of the above works out (fuck it, let's be positive and say it will) things with the ladies will pick up. 2008 was kind of an off year; it was like a veteran on a sports team: while certainly not pathetic, it was clear there needs to be a change or upgrade with room for improvement. Whether it was getting numbers and never receiving call backs (that happened about 3 times), messing up somewhere (at least twice), or never getting beyond a first date (once), the ladies were harsh to this guy. I really think it'll be a lot easier to meet people if I'm not still at home. Because nothing says mood-killer like "Hey, want to come back to my parents house? In northern New Jersey?"

I'm going to do everything in my power to make one of these happen. It'll help to make 2009 at least a good year, and not a tolerable one. It's 11:47...13 more minutes left of 2008, and I can't say I'm too disappointed to see it go. Bring on 2009 now. Happy New Year.

Nostalgia

What a crazy night! I'm so wasted! I can't wait to call this girl two days from now (as the rule says)!
...........................so here I am, it's 12am...and I'm typing at my computer on a Saturday night. I did some ironing earlier, so I can't say it's a complete loss, but, yeah, that's what my life has come down to. I rarely call/message anyone to go out anymore, mainly because I know I'll just end up going to someone's house or going to some local bar, having a few drinks and a few laughs, and going home wondering why I ever agreed to go out in the first place. It's kind of a vicious cycle...I want to go out and meet people, have a good time, but I'm always fairly tired on weekends. I usually get a morning workout in, then I'm free the rest of the day, so I really have no excuse. But I think a long work week and a long Friday after work usually takes everything out of me. I usually hang out after work since I'm already in the city, which makes things a lot easier. But even that has its drawbacks. I only stay out a few hours, because I'm really tired after working all day. It's usually a 2o hour day. And even if I am having a good time, I always have to make sure I'm back by 11:30 to catch the last bus home. Granted, I have a lot of friends that live around the city where I could crash, but then I lose most of my Saturday...and that day is almost sacred. I almost get upset when I have something to do that day. I know I'm just making excuses, but that's how it is lately.

I took a real depressing walk down memory lane just now when I looked through my old photos from college. It really hit me that I regret so much about what I didn't do. Sure, I had my fun, but I don't have those "you had to be there" stories. And I feel like that's an essential part of the college experience. So let this be a lesson to anyone entering college: have no regrets when you leave. Or at least keep them at a minimum.

I've been really getting into "The Office" lately. (Just a sidenote, I know it's a spin-off of the British one, and the British one is great, mainly because anything British is supposed to be great, but people really should give the U.S. version a chance. It's damn funny in it's own right.) I just feel like I can relate so much to how they feel. I work in a cubicle but for a rather large scale "corporation" (laughable, at best), but I deal with the same mundane existence. And I really like the whole Jim/Pam (or JAM, as the people seem to have coined them) romantic angle. In my heart, I'm a real sap in terms of romance. I enjoy watching people in love. For God sakes, I watched "First Daughter" with Katie Holmes, a movie maybe 3 people have seen (including my mom) and really got into it. For some reason, I really got into the whole "guy chasing girl and vice versa" thing. And when they waltz to "The Way You Look Tonight"...c'mon, I don't care if you're T2, you're melting at that scene. I guess I'm just jealous. I wish things like that happened to me. I want the "Chasing Amy" makeout in the rain. Or that "Say Anything" moment. I even sometimes daydream about making a movie and something like that happening for me. Sad, I know. And I know, I know, I work in one of the greatest cities in the world, and it must be so easy to meet people...that's a load of crap, really. Even with 3 million people in this city, it's still really difficult to approach people. I guess it's my shyness, or my reluctance to take the first step, but it's easier said than done. I seem to never be able to initiate. I wish they'd make the first move (not likely) or I could skip all the intros and get right into the conversation, and I'm like Vince Vaughn in "Swingers." But for now, I'm just the guy who sits at the bar, drinking his beer, looking around, and going home alone.

And I really try. I go to happy hours pretty frequently. But you can't do much at them. You usually go with friends, and you stay in that social circle the whole night. I did have the one night where I thought I had a chance with a girl, even went on a date. That pretty much died a slow death, though. So I'm back where I started. But even looking back at all those experiences, maybe they weren't all a waste. Sure, not much happened, but they really were learning experiences. So now when something does happen (eventually), I can try to avoid the same mistakes and pitfalls that killed me the last time. I just need the opportunity to execute them.

I promise the rest of the posts won't be this much of a downer. But it's really just how I'm feeling. When I finally get that good piece of news (girls aren't crazy, my office building disappeared overnight), then you'll see me skipping through the streets. But for now, it'll unfortunately be more "Debbie Downer" than anything.

Wakeup Call

Well, it finally happened. I don't know if I was expecting it or not, but I guess all my laziness and disgust with my job has finally come back to bite me in the ass. Lately, I've been drifting, mostly because my boss has been gone for a week, but also because I've stopped caring. I stopped caring a long time ago, and was doing alright. I still got my work done. But over the past few days, it seems like I'm not getting anything accomplished. I've been putting things off and forgetting to do other things...and it all came to a head today. After my stand-in boss asked me if I had taken care of the few outstanding issues that came up, I told him no. Thinking nothing of it, I was about to go back to staring at my computer and reading old e-mails or The Office quotes, he threw a curveball at me and asked if I wanted to "take a walk." Everyone knows this is never good, only if it's a really hot female in a club, and she's drunk. My boss is neither, so I knew I was in trouble. As I walked down the small corridor to a conference room, I thought to myself, "This must be what Death Row feels like," obviously blowing things out of proportion. I knew I'd be getting talked to, I just didn't expect him to say it. He's one of the cooler older guys on the floor; older than me, but still fairly young enough to not take things too seriously. The only problem is, he's a real stickler for details. He'll grill you with 100 questions and you'll have an answer to, oh, maybe 3 of them. But as long as you have some type of answer, it's fine. Today, I had none. He basically took me aside and sat me down. I don't remember all the dialogue exchanged over the course of those 10 minutes or so, but he pretty much summed up how I haven't been getting as much work done as I should be, I've been talking on the phone too much (and others have complained about it) and just generally been slacking off. I have to admit, I am guilty as charged for all of those. I put things off until the end of the day or the next day because that is the beauty of what I do: it can always wait. But perhaps I got a little too complacent. A little too comfortable. I guess if I cared more, it'd show. The problem is, I don't. I really hate this place and most of the people in it. And now it's showing. I really just want to know who else had a problem with me. I think it could have just been a scare tactic to get me to focus more, but who knows. And the phone: one other co-worker, who switched jobs at the beginning of the year, seemingly has nothing to do but call me at least 3 times per day, at about 10 minutes (minimum) per call. Now, granted, I bait him by listening and sharing an occasional laugh, but I really need to go on a "diet" from him, as another co-worker said to me. Just by weening myself off those calls will get me back in my boss's good graces fairly fast. I would try harder, if people and projects didn't give me such a hard time. I have over 10 active projects I'm working on, and none have been easy. The people I deal with on these projects are some of the dumbest, most disrespectful, and rude people I've ever had the displeasure of dealing with. Maybe if they were a little more helpful, I'd be a little more willing to do my job. But combine their overall idiocy with my lack of caring, and you have a bad beat. I didn't even take his sit-down with me personal; he was right, after all. I really took it more as a wakeup call to get out of what I'm doing. This is clearly not for me. And I've been trying for months now to get out, but it's not as simple as you'd think. I have little experience in what I want to do, and that hurts me right there. I could go on and on, but it's like beating a dead horse. I need to get out. And after becoming obsessed with The Office, it really just encompasses everything that's wrong with cubicle life. And Jim, one of my all-time favorite characters now, said it best.

"Because right now, this is a job. If I advance any higher, this would be my career. And if this were my career, I'd have to throw myself in front of a train."

Unbearable...

I know it sounds like I'm beating a dead horse, but the last few weeks have been unbearable at "work." Just the days going by so slowly, the monotony of the work, the idea of never getting out...these things fill my brain all day. I just think back and wonder where a year went. I wake up at some ungodly hour, commute an hour in, push some paper, either workout or play softball after, and come home to eat and sleep. That's been the routine for awhile now. And I gotta tell you, it's getting really old. My friends who also hate it talk about it everyday. I feel like prisoners who sit around and talk about the "outside." Dramatic, but just so true. At this point I've built up some level of seniority; I'm the longest tenured person there of the new hires, and my boss for the most part leaves me alone. But I'm just not there. I see people there, coming in on weekends, acting like what they do matters, miserable, and pray that's not me. I've been applying to job after job, sending in resume after resume, and for what? To receive no callback, no e-mail, no nothing? At some point you just have to wonder if it's them or you. I'd just about take anything else but what I'm doing now. Maybe my life will be like "The Matrix" or "Wanted," where I'm plucked out of this rat-on-a-wheel routine and given some glamorous new job; as the savior of the world or an assassin....a guy can dream, can't he?

Things are looking up a bit, romantically though. I met a girl a few weeks ago who was amazing. Smart, funny, beautiful...just the complete package. Things went well the whole night. I walked away number-less, but still felt I had built the foundation for something. Having no way of contacting her (she had my number, but as women do, likely would never call me), I did some Law and Order style sleuthing. I contacted her friend, who in turn was a friend of a friend, via e-mail to get her information and get on his good side. He gladly obliged, but only gave me her name. While I could have gotten that myself, I appreciated his efforts, and knew I was in good with him, the first step in any possible relationship. So after a series of messages and text messages, we went out last Tuesday. And I gotta say, while I've only been on a handful of "dates" in my life, this was really my first official one. I did the whole gentleman thing; holding the doors, paying, etc. It felt good. And we had such great conversation; never a lull or awkward silence...just a nice back and forth volley. The end of the night ended on kind of an odd note (her sister came to the door to let her in, which ruined any chance of potential lip-on-lip action), but I figured a second date had to be in the cards. But now I'm starting to get worried. After sending an ill-fated, but still not as bad as I think, text message the next day, I called her on Saturday, waiting a few days so as not to seem desperate or suffocating. I haven't heard anything back, and hope it's just either part of the game or she just doesn't have the time. I feel like the whole two-day thing is overrated anyway; I think if you like someone and they like you, you can just be confident and honest from the get-go and things can only go up. She's a double major also, with one of those majors being psychology. She may be able to read through all this anyway and feel like I'm just being immature and write me off. Maybe I'm overanalyzing things (one of my fatal flaws), but how can I not? It's not exactly like my dance card is filled up lately. I just feel like every time I think something good is/will happen for me, it falls through, either by my own doing or something else. It's extremely frustrating and depressing. I wish there was some type of rule book everyone abided by; and there was a process to everything. While in a way there is (the whole two-day waiting thing, for one), I try not to follow it. Because people hate bullshit. I just hope she calls. It might make things at least a little more bearable.

These Are a Few of My Least Favorite Things...

It's been forever since I've posted, so what better way to reacquaint myself with the blogging community than with a list of things I hate? I've had so much time to think about this list, so without further ado, here's "Things I Hate," in no particular order:

1. People who over dress. It's not that cold, so why are you wearing a damn scarf and coat? Today was 70 out, and I saw a girl in a full scarf wrapped around her neck like a boa constrictor. It's called weather.com or the news. I know it's not always accurate, but they usually get the degrees right, just not the precipitation involved. Study it. Learn it. Live it.
2. In a similar regard, people who use umbrellas when it's not raining. If it's just a few drops, what's the big deal? Will you melt? Using an umbrella when it's not raining is like not wearing a seatbelt in a car: you can do it, but it just makes you look like a dumbass. Also, I don't need my retina ripped out by those oversized beach tarps which have spikes on the end like barbwire.
   
3. Not moving over to the window seat when getting on a bus. Are you entitled to two seats? Did somehow your monthly pass give you the right to take up two seats? I really hate that people do this, then have to move over anyway when the bus gets packed. I know how great it feels to have no person next to you, but on a 5:00 bus, that's just not going to happen. Why don't you move over in the first place and we won't avoid this unnecessary delay? And don't act like you're inconvenienced when I tell you to move over. Having a window seat is better anyway.
   
4. Fat people sitting next to you on the bus. I don't mind if it's a skinny person or a really good looking woman, but why is it every time I get on, the Nutty Professor always plops right next to me? Then I'm forced to be pushed into the corner (because I always move over) like a damn sardine in a can. For some reason, I'm getting more and more sickened by overweight people. Honestly, this may sound shallow of me, but how hard it is to just not eat that 5th piece of chicken? How can people look at themselves and be happy with what they see? It baffles me. And I know, I'm being insensitive, it could be a variety of reasons, but I still have yet to find one that sways me.
5. Repeating myself. I find that people just don't pay attention. Ever. I have a friend who consistently zones out whenever I talk to him. I find myself saying the same thing twice, in rapid succession, just so I don't have to say it again. Take some concentration pills, and listen, for God sakes.
   
6. Not re-racking weights or cleaning off machines when done with them at the gym. Do you leave your house like this? Do you just open the peanut butter jar and leave it sitting out when you're done with it? This gym is terrible for this. Not only do you have a bunch of muscleheads trying to impress each other, but you have a workout facility that looks like a pig sty. How hard it is to put your dumbbells back onto the rack you found them on? Obviously you can lift them up.
   
7. Cover letters. Why isn't a resume good enough? How about if you like that, you call me and I'll tell you everything I'd write in a cover letter? That is the hardest part of the job application process, and I just never have the time to do it. What do they want me to say?
   
8. Commuting. Sucks, plain and simple. Especially from another state. Why doesn't NJ Transit run later? Because they are bitches, that's why. I can't wait to move out.
   
9. Gas prices. If we're supposed to be in this justified war to get oil for a cheaper price, where is the payoff? I'm still paying like $35 a week for half a tank. While NJ is still the cheapest, almost $4 a gallon isn't exactly getting it for free.
10. Women. I don't get you. You're interested one minute, then something happens and you never talk to me again. And don't even get me started on women who are unavailable but still give off this air of being available and interested. I find this particularly applicable in the workplace. People there just aren't human. More like Terminators. They talk to you, but give you the cold shoulder the next day. Maybe it's the job, I don't know, but I realized you can't pursue people you work with. It just never works out.
    
11. Work. Still sucks, I know. Blink 182 was right. I really feel like I'm getting dumber by being there. Was I really put on this planet to do this mindless crap day in and day out? Punching a clock and then doing it all over again the next day? I really hope not.
12. Idiocy. I seem to encounter this mostly at work. Whether it's people who think what they do somehow matters, to people who clearly only got their job because they couldn't work anywhere else, stupidity seems to run rampant. Since I ceased caring a long time ago, it doesn't affect me as much. But it has made me incredibly jaded, as you can tell.
13. Stalemates. I'm not at the crossroads of my life (I'm way too young for that), but I feel like I'm floating. I know what I want, but I just find it harder to attain. I'm coming up on a year here. A year! I can honestly say I didn't picture myself doing this last year. I know I should be happy I have a job, making money, etc, but really, if it feels like you're losing who you are, your identity, what did you gain? It's tough.
14. Weekends. Don't get me wrong, I live for these days now. They're the only days I can relax. But I find they've just been moving too fast lately. I blink my eyes and it's Sunday night already. Like I always say, "Lather, rinse, repeat."
    

That's about all I can think of now. Hopefully I can keep this up again. But with the way things are, that's a tough call.

A Confederacy of Dunces

As if I have to give another reason why I have to leave my job, here's Reason No. 25: Unprofessional jackasses. I can't sum it up any better. These people are your typical alpha males who feel somehow they are better than everyone else even though they really don't do anything. It's a sad realization that some of these people I deal with on a daily basis would be jobless without where I work. They couldn't work anywhere else. Working here, you're allowed to be incompetent and rude; it's almost seen as a part of the job. I had a run-in with a fellow that fit this description. Clearly a man who should have retired 10 years ago, he'd become curmudgeon and basically a real asshole. He pretty much yelled at my boss for two minutes before realizing how big of an idiot he was. I feel bad for her. As much as she does (even if it's unnecessary and useless), she's still disrespected. Being a woman in this line of work is tough; it really is an old boy's club and nothing will change that. Most of the senior positions are male-dominated, as are the other departments we work with. I just hate the fact that people think they matter in the grand scheme of things around here; they're just glorified paper pushers who are similar to a tenured schoolteacher: they're untouchable, can never be fired, and are just collecting the paycheck until they can retire with a fat pension. I don't want to be that guy who is just working for a solid benefits program. While it's assuring to know I'd have good job security and free healthcare after I retire, but I don't want that to be the driving force in me staying somewhere. I'd rather be at a $40,000 a year job for a year and be happy than a $60k and be miserable.

But enough about that. Let me explain the ineptness of my commute. Recently, the brain surgeons over at NJ Transit decided to create this new bus/train combination terminal near my house. While the commute is virtually the same distance going, coming home my travel time is cut down by almost 10 minutes. Which is fantastic; no one likes to sit in traffic at rush hour, especially on a street with about 100 traffic lights. Anyway, I've been going there for about a month and a half, and it's been fine. Parking is the big issue there now; as the lot consistently fills up and many are shut out. I never have to worry about that, as I get there at the ass-crack of dawn (well really about 5:55am), so there's plenty of spots. And with parking not costing me anything, it's a tolerable evil, as commuting sucks the big one, but what can you do right now when you still live at home.

But recently, those bastards decided they weren't making enough from us on just a ticket alone, so parking fees went into effect a few days ago. While $25 a month won't kill me, it's still really annoying. It's like wearing some ripped jeans and accidently putting your knee through them once you buy them. You can still wear them, but they look a bit ridiculous. That's how I feel with this parking. The only problem is, they only made enough monthly passes for about 10 people, because they sold out in minutes. So I am stuck with the $2 daily pass. Something I have to buy everyday until the end of the month. That's about $40 a month. And they don't mark off the daily spots close to the platform at all; you're about 100 miles away. This morning was the first work day of this new rule, so all I saw was NJ Transit workers trying to direct confused commuters around the lot, like those parking attendants at the beach parking lots. While the monthly parking is right near the front of the entrance, the dailys are consigned to the back of the bus so to speak. Just add it to the list, I guess.

Enough ranting. I'm hoping to throw a birthday party next week, and it'd be awesome if more than 2 people showed up. We'll see who's really my friend if they trek it out there.

The End of the World: Where to begin? Seeing a co-worker at lunch take off his sock and shoes, then the other sock in front of me (I guess we're getting close), someone saying they heard rumors I "get shitfaced at New York Dolls (wherever that is)." The same person, in response to saying that was what he does, replying, "If I pay $100 I want the whole thing." Hearing my boss and this jerkoff argue over a BBQ. Who knew food could cause that much hostility? Oh wait, I can see that.

To Sleep, Perchance to Dream...I wish

I've been having issues with sleep. While it's always on my top 10 list of favorite things, lately I've been unable to accomplish said task. I've tried every possible solution: going to bed later, earlier, watching TV, listening to music, reading, making lists, blogging, etc. I still somehow wake up about an hour to a half hour before my alarm goes off. Now, I'm not incredibly tired when I do wake up at this time (I think my body's used to the early wakeups at this point, since I wake up at about 5am everyday), but it's frustrating to have your REM disturbed like this everyday. I think it may be my mattress, but even after adjusting it my adding my old college egg crate comforter to it, didn't do anything. I want one of those Serta Perfect Sleepers (sic, I think) or at least a bigger bed, but alas, the funds are too low for such a purchase. But I'm looking for a potential move out of mid-summer, so I have some time to save up. It's just becoming too much to commute an hour into work, then at least an hour back. And when I want to stay in the city after work, I have to make sure I get back to the bus stop in time before it leaves (NJ Transit has this retarded policy of only running the last bus before 12am. On weekdays OK, but why not run them more often on Fridays and weekends? It would generate more income and help everyone out more). I can always just crash at a friend's apartment, as I have a lot scattered throughout the city and the adjoining boroughs, but I still have to go home the next day. I stayed at a friend's apartment in Queens two weeks ago, and it took me TWO hours to get home! That's just ridiculous. I also want my own space and moving out is the only acceptable alternative. Ideally I'd like to move into the Prospect Park area; good neighborhood, nice outdoors, affordable. I think I need about $7-8k to move out, cover the first and last month's rent, and security deposit. I'm actually almost there.

I've also applied to another job. It's only an internship, but it's with Men's Health, which is my all-time favorite magazine. It's become my bible; I go to it for everything. And to have an opportunity to work for them, is almost a dream come true. I've applied there at least 2 other times, coming close the second time, but still ultimately not getting it. Sure, the obvious factors set in when applying for just an internship: salary, benefits, housing, etc. But I'll worry about that if anything happens. I've learned to go into everything with a very skeptical eye and low expectations; it's a lousy way to live, but at least you'll never be let down. But it would be sweet to get it. It'd be in another state (PA), but that's exactly the change I'm looking for. I've always seen myself as a "city" person, especially after going to school in NY, but now is the time for something new. I don't have anything tying me to here anymore. The place I grew up in basically sucks now. It's the same group of people who do the same thing every night. I've always said that my life somewhat resembles Andrew Largeman in "Garden State" and Will Hunting in "Good Will Hunting." Now, I didn't push my mom down a flight of stairs like Large did, and I'm no math whiz like Will, but I can relate somewhat to how they felt: bored of the "norm" and looking to break out. It only takes one opportunity, one girl, one anything...and the willingness to put yourself out there, and be willing to take the hit for it. And damnit, I think I'm at that stage in my life. I wouldn't go so far as to say it's a semi-life crisis or a quarter life crisis, because I am only 22, but I just feel like I'm in a rut. My friends seem to be content with where they are. One, my best friend, especially. He dropped out of college after a trying first year, and never went back. He works and has his own apartment now, but you know he can't be doing that forever. I try to get some of these people to explore new things and try new places, but there so set in their ways they're unable to change. And that's the saddest thing of all.

Meanwhile, at that hellhole I call work, things have been the same: nothing new, nothing better. I've been doing data entry for the past few days until my eyes rolled out of my head and took the midnight train to Georgia. The only thing that keeps me going there is the money of course (as measly as it is, it's enough to get by on) and the friends I've made there. I've met some people who I can see myself continuing to hang out with after I leave (see, I say after not if...gotta stay positive). While I'd feel bad giving my job possibly only two weeks before leaving, I really don't care. Sure, it was my first job, but I have no allegiance there. It's merely a stepping stone to something bigger and better. They'll get over it...it's not like what we do is rocket science (it's "brain surgery"...a classic Simpsons line...check the episode, I think it's one of the Treehouse of Horrors...Mr. Burns is the mad scientist creating a monster out of Homer's brain, only to realize it's Homer's brain and it's as useful as a bag of rocks).

That's about it. Thankfully only two days left before the weekend, which I now live for more than anything, even though I never do anything. Though there's some options for the weekend, so maybe it won't end up with me and a few chums at the local watering hole having a few cold ones and going home...oh wait, that's exactly how it will be. I know it sounds like all I do is bitch, but I'm not completely unhappy. I do have a job, and have been saving a lot of money by moving back home. I guess I'm just satisfied or content right now. But I would like to be happy. Happy about going into work everyday. Happy with my social life. Just happy. And I hope that that comes sooner rather than later.

Sidenote: Maybe I am capable of being somewhat charming. A woman was unsure of where to catch a bus today, and thought it was on the line I was standing on. Unfortunately it was on the other side, behind my line. But she was sure it was this line. Finally she opened the timetables and showed me the section. Even with headphones in, I pointed out to her it said the other line, not this one. I said it in my best cool voice (I'm trying to emulate Wentworth Miller in Prison Break...that show is not only awesome, but he's got the right "look"...yes, I'm straight) and she replied, "You're a doll" and touched my arm. While it was nothing, it still made me feel good. I've struck out so many times with women this year (at least five in a shade under a year) or missed opportunities, I was beginning to lose hope. But moments like that show that maybe kindness can be a turn-on. Sure she was older and I wasn't looking to flirt, but if I can be like that all the time, then I gotta get somewhere, right? Don't answer that.

Classic moment (Shortening the "It's the End" title, it just took too long to write and I didn't know how to properly appreviate it): My boss explaining to a company who's offering a quote on a BBQ we're having to think about "800 hungry men" in coming up with a price. For roughly five minutes, a back and forth dialogue was exchanged between my boss and this vendor about feeding men, and how more than one hot dog would be eaten at a time. "Maybe even 3," my boss added. Cue the Twilight Zone music.

No Excuses...

I'll save the long-winded apology. Back to Montreal.

So pretty much I had to wait in the airport for roughly 2 hours for the rest of my party to arrive (flying out of your own state's major airport on the company's dime isn't so bad after all). After my entire customs debacle (sans the cavity search), I went in search for food. Besides the really filling two half-dollar sized cookies and glass of water I got on the airplane, I hadn't eaten anything in awhile. I was really hoping for some authentic French Canadian food, like Burger King or McDonalds, but unfortunately all I came across was Tim Hortons; apparently the Roy Rogers of Montreal. It was the only place where you could order a sandwich or donuts...or even a combo with a coffee. Since I didn't feel like wandering around anymore, I figured to just order a sandwich and wait until they landed. So I sauntered up to the register, even trying to lay down a smooth game by saying "Bonjour" to the cashier. But either my accent was bad or she wasn't in the mood, because she didn't even respond. Anyway, I ordered the "Deli Trio" special, which was a drink and a sandwich, when the cashier asked, in her French Canadian/English accent, if I wanted "sizz" or something like that, to which I of course replied, "Yes," since you never turn down a French Canadian in their own city no less. She then began to pick out six donuts from underneath the glass case. "This restaurant is awesome," I thought. "If they give me a draft beer for dessert, I'm buying stock in this company." I went with six chocolate glazed, and she placed them on the table. But then some weird things started to happen: she continued to ask me questions and then put six waters on the counter. I knew something was wrong. "Whoa, I think there was some miscommunication. I only wanted one water and a sandwich," I said, in my friendliest tone ever. "But you didn't say that," the cashier said in response, not in a friendly tone. So for the next 30 seconds we argued as to what I ordered and what I should have ordered. Eventually the manager came over and smoothed everything over by only giving me the one sandwich and water combination. Apparently, ordering a "Deli Trio" means you're getting a donut, drink, and sandwich. And "sizz" meant "six." Not the best way to start off a trip. But how cool would it be to get a sixer of donuts with a meal? I smell an American rip-off...

The rest of my group soon came after I ate my sandwich (though I should have told her no mustard. But at that point, I may have been given a roundhouse kick for asking such a request) and wandered around looking for a phone card in two different stores. Mind you, I was wearing a suit, and I see my group wearing jeans and sneakers. Just my luck.

I knew only one guy on this trip. The other two I had no clue what they looked like. I pictured one of them to look like someone from "Beauty and the Geek," complete with glasses and pants pulled up to his chest. The other, I thought would be this graying old fat man. Shows just how wrong we can be. They both introduced themselves, and boy, was I surprised. The "nerd" was this muscular bald dude who looked like he could destroy me in minutes. The other was a 4'11 (at the tallest) balding man with a moustache who looked like he just woke up from sleeping in a dryer. Disheveled and annoyed at customs for asking him too many questions, I instantly knew this would be an interesting two days. Throw in a heavyset black man who resembled Sherman Klump's father from "The Nutty Professor," and you had quite the motley crew.

After exchanging pleasantries we picked up our car for the trip, a very nice Hyundai SUV. Before we could leave though, a thorough body check of the car had to be completed, so we weren't unnecessarily billed for any damage. Since one of our group members worked with Budget Rent-a-Car previously, he went over every inch of the car, from the blinkers to the brakes. All the while, the short man (we'll call Mini-Man) was behind the wheel, seemingly unsure of how to operate the windshield wipers. And he was driving me?

Somehow we ended up making it out of the garage and onto the road. Luckily we had a GPS so we couldn't get lost, even though we had Dale Earnhardt, Jr. driving. He bobbed and weaved out of traffic like Muhammad Ali in his prime, stop signs and traffic lights be damned (well not exactly, but you get the idea). We stumbled onto our hotel's street, but because they were undergoing renovations, there was no sign for the entrance. So we had to drive around the block at least 3 times looking for it. We'd come to where we thought was the entrance: it was a service one only. Another wasn't the right building. All the while, Mini-Man was screaming at everyone in sight (passengers, pedestrians, other cars on the road, a guy in a wheelchair crossing the street). He even wanted to make an "illegal U-Turn" on one of our wrong turns. He began to back up on a one-way street, avoiding looking in the rearview mirror and the cars behind him. We almost had to bribe him to convince him not to do it. "It's just right ahead," we told him. Soon enough, we found it, and as soon as we got out of the car, Mini-Man began to argue with the bellhop about the lack of signs pointing you to the hotel, even though the kid had nothing to do with anything. That was one thing with this guy; he argued about everything. Got the master suite in the hotel? Damnit, he needed a bigger refrigerator. No 90 ounce steak on the menu? Well they better cook the 32 oz. one perfectly or there'd be hell to pay. And he said all of this while he profusely sweated, as if we were in the Sahara Desert, even though it was bout 15 degrees there all day. Couple that with a tendency to over drink and make a fool of himself, and you had one of the most colorful characters I've ever met.

But back to checking in: the very attractive hotel worker (I have a weakness for women named "Vanessa" who wear those stylish glasses) checked us in, we went to our rooms. Let me just tell you how bad these guys abuse our company's money. Instead of staying in a small 3-star room, they get executive suites with desks and mini-bars on the top floor. Me? I get a crappy room with two double beds and a broken thermostat. And forget about TV. Canadian TV sucks; besides showing "Viva La Bam" with course language intact, there's nothing on but hockey and crappy melodramas. The one bright spot was seeing a piece of "Arrested Development"; I really need to watch that show.

That night, we settled on dinner. I found out after I got all decked out that we were just eating in the hotel restaurant. Dinner was interesting. All we talked about was politics and religion. One of the party members, after telling him I was a journalism major in college, thought that was a green light to ask me about every event that's ever happened in the world and asking me for my opinion. When I hadn't heard of it ("You mean to tell me you don't know the history of the IRS?"), he would get upset. He also added "journalism student" to every question he asked me, as if that meant I should have my finger on the pulse of every current event ever. Then I had Mini-Man ordering two "Antifreeze" cocktails in under an hour and then continuously telling me to drink the beer he ordered. Then on my left, was Mr. Klump, doing his best Morgan Freeman impersonation, all the while trying to convert me to Christianity. And yes, I had only known these people (besides Klump) for less than a day. They eventually went to bed but seeing it was only about 8:30, I knew I had to go out and explore the town. I had told everyone I was going to stay out all night since I was only there for the night, but it wasn't as easy as I would have hoped. One, it's weird when you're alone. You don't want to roll up to a bar alone and be "that guy." Two, it was snowing like someone shook a snowglobe and dumped it all over, because it was coming down hard. Tiring of wandering the main strip (as it was within walking distance of the hotel), I settled on a fine establishment called "Super Sexe," which offered tales of "full contact dancing." I'll withhold the details of that encounter, as this is a family site, but let's just say Montreal rules, and I have to go back. And their people are very friendly.

I'll spare you the details of the trip, as it was as boring to experience it as it would be to write it. The trip home wasn't much better. A one-hour flight turned into a five-hour nightmare, as I ended up not getting home until well after 10:00pm, when I started at the airport at 2pm. So yes, a very long day to a very interesting two days.

And that was my trip. And then it was back to work. It still sucks, in case you know. Caring about what I do has long since passed. I simply do the bare minimum and what I'm told, and leave. I've applied to another internship and am really hoping something comes out of it. But I know not to get excited, because I've been let down before. I guess I'm almost accepting the fact that I'm stuck there for a bit longer...until I think about everything I hate, and then it fuels me again. Oh well; I'm sure it gets tiring to hear me bitch. Hell, writing it gets tedious. So for now, I'll try not to focus on it, and maybe just share anecdotes and stories, rather than bringing out my tiny violin. Here's to new beginnings.

It's the End of the World as We Know It: I hate when a female gives you a high-five. It's always an awkward gesture any way you cut it. The only positive was that though she has a boyfriend, she doesn't hate me, though I never gave her a reason to do so. My lunch bag has seemingly become a part of common workplace folklore, as everyone is amazed at its durability and look (it's made of neoprene "wetsuit" material and expands when more objects are put into it...yes, sexual innuendo noted). It's a sad day when that is getting more play than you.

The Great White North Et Cetera... (Part I)

I plan to have a monster update because I feel I've been slacking in my blogging duties (they may take my membership card and decoder ring away). So I have to catch everyone up on the events of my life (though trust me, it's really not that exciting).

I recently went on a mini-vacation (not really) to Montreal, Canada. I left Tuesday and got back yesterday night. For the most part, it was uneventful. I was only there one night, so it limited me severely in what I could do. In fact, it seemed like I waited at the airport longer than I was even in the country. And let me tell you, going through customs into Canada is like trying to smuggle alcohol into a bar: it seems easy, and you may pull it off initially, but the bouncer, house, or in this case, the country, always wins. I guess I'll give a brief synopsis of what it's like to be an American in Canada:

• The airport is a lot bigger than you think, and you should always walk straight ahead. I must have wandered in a circle for about 2 hours looking for a place to eat once I landed in Montreal. After I cleared customs (though they asked me a lot of questions, like why I was here on "business" and who I was visiting, etc), I walked straight ahead through the booth to find a downward escalator. Figuring I would find restaurants once I got down there, I was surprised to find nothing but baggage claims, currency converter booths, and airline representative booths. In front of me was another long corridor with two guards at the end (in heavy body armor no less) waving passengers through to the exit door. Now, I thought it wouldn't make any sense to have to exit when I wanted to stay in the airport while I waited for the other parties, I proceeded to turn around. The officer, seeing me, motioned for me to come to the exit. I gave him a half glance and turned around, not thinking twice about it. As I sat on the bench, looking at the airport map, trying to find the "You Are Here" arrow while holding a heavy backpack and sweating like I ran a marathon, I turned around to find the officer standing beside me. Wondering if a plastic glove was going to be put on and I would be brought to a back room, I looked at him. "May I help you?" He said. "I waved you to come over."
  I gave him a smile and told him I was looking for restaurants to eat at. "There's no restaurants here," he said. "You have to go to the other side." I thanked him and went on my way, turning around and heading back where I came from. Little did I know how bad of a move this was. To make a long story short, I continuously walked in a circle looking for places to eat, stopping airport personnel and asking for directions, and getting suspicious looks from the customs police. After about an hour of wandering around, feeling like Austin Powers trying to back the golf cart out of the small hallway in the first movie, I dejectedly sat back down on the bench, right where I started. As I debated whether I would ever eat again, who came back to check up on me? Yes, that same officer again. Only this time, he wasn't as chipper and friendly as last time. "Why are you still here?" he said. "I'm a little lost" was all I could stammer out, before adding, "and a little sweaty." Why I said that, I'll never know, but I figured maybe he'd have some sympathy. "I told you before there were no restaurants here," he replied curtly. I nodded and apologized, and finally just proceeded straight ahead to where the exit was. I had nothing to lose by trying, so I went through and was quickly pulled aside by another officer to be pre-screened again in another room. This room looked like an IKEA; the inside was like a warehouse, and they even had a setup that looked like registers and stock used to be in there. I waited patiently to be called to the next officer, and a new line of questioning. It was going to be a long day.

I'm pretty tired today, mainly because I ate 10 chicken nuggets and a Big Mac for lunch (gotta love coupons), so I'm going to stop there. I will continue with my sojourn through 'ol Canada this weekend. Bonjour. Or is it Ciao? I don't even know anymore. I'll just go with See ya later.

Blame Canada...

Well I'm about to head up north to America's cooler cousin Canada for a few days. I'm flying out tomorrow (on the company's dime) and coming back Wednesday night. Not only do I get to be out of work for those two days, I also get to experience the magic that is Montreal. I've heard some very good things about this fine city, so I'm looking forward to being able to experience them firsthand, if even for a night. Which means I have to maximize my time there completely. Going to meetings all day on Wednesday, while potentially being out all night? Priceless. I'm all about being spontaneous now; so hopefully I get to take in some of the sights.

I have a lot to say, but I really want to get to sleep, even though my flight doesn't leave until 11am (I have to be there about 9am for the unnecessarily long bag check and various unnecessary security checks). I'll update when I get back. Wish me luck.

It's The End of the World As We Know It: The people I'm flying with taking all of tomorrow as a "travel day" and getting no work done. The flight is under two hours; an earlier flight could have easily been arranged. Gotta love people taking advantage of their employer.

My Name Isn't Dave, Damnit...

I don't know how hard it is to pronounce "Dan." It doesn't even sound like "Dave" or "David," for that matter. I am not the type of person to stutter or mumble; I feel that I speak clearly and enunciate enough so people know what I'm saying. But still, this "Dave" nonsense has been following me around like a bad groupie (not like the ones Bret Michaels gets on "Rock of Love"). I really have to correct these people before it becomes permanent. I know how some people look like a certain name, but I really don't think I look like a Dave. Maybe more like a Brian or something. And what kills me the most is that I told these people what my name was. A woman even wrote it down and said it out loud, audibly. But when I checked something online, she had wrote in my name in the status line as "David." Ugh. I may start calling these people the wrong name too. Like I said, this job has something new everyday. Like seeing a co-worker in front of me, a miserable man who should have retired years ago but enjoys basking in his misery and bringing everyone else in it, doing stretches at his desk and side bends. All he needed were the leg warmers and the headband.

I have to digress (like I do in all my posts, while seem to digress from relevance daily) and mention bathrooms. All offices are different; but the bathrooms in this place are where legends are born. In the women's room, you have old women spending an unhealthy amount of time at the mirror, fixing a face that said bye-bye to them years ago, while others use the stall and seemingly soundproof it, or go when they hear a noise, similar to Tim Robbins banging the pipe in "Shawshank" when the thunder hit. This woman is the epitome of shy. I mean there's shy, and then there's this woman. Granted, she's over 40, but she acts like a child clutching her mother's leg in public and hiding behind it. She must have been put on display a lot when she was young, because this woman hates to bring any attention to herself whatsoever. She'll hide behind people in photos, walk hunched over and quickly dash through hallways, or stay at her desk hidden behind a stack of papers. It actually comes off as a bit rude. I understand if you don't like to make your presence felt, but this bordered on psychotic. The bathroom thing makes me the most perplexed; it's the only place you have privacy, and you're still freaked out? She also happens to be a huge germophobe, so I wouldn't doubt it if she covers the entire place in toiletpaper or sanitizer and doesn't even sit on the seat. She also happens to wear white and/or plastic gloves around the office. Yes, she is the 2008 version of Howard Hughes. If I see a mysterious jar of something on her desk, I'm calling the health department.

The men's room is even better. You'd think people would be old enough now to treat the bathroom like they treat their houses. Well apparently these people lived like Axl Rose, because this bathroom was filthy. People not flushing after doing their business, clogging the toilet, going all over the urinal like they're watering a lawn. It's disgusting. I walk in there, and the place is seemingly always wet. The floor, the walls, the handles. I don't know why there's so much moisture but it's like walking into a damn bathhouse, minus the naked men in towels (which I wouldn't doubt happening soon). I dread touching anything in there for fear of getting the flesh eating virus. And people's habits in there are so weird too. You have the guy who talks to you while you go, or looks over at you mid-stream. The guy who touches you while you go on the shoulder like you're in a "Hands Across America" singalong. The others think their member is a garden hose and let it spray everywhere (thank God for those walls in between). Overall, I hate having to use the bathroom, especially if I have to drop the Cosby kids off at the pool (take a guess what that means). Now one of the doors is broken, so when you go, it likes to pop open at inopportune times. I have to either start using another bathroom or just holding it. While constipation is never cool, it's gotta be better than that shithole (pun fully intended).

It's the End of the World As We Know It: My boss coming over to my desk, exclaiming "I'm being nosy," touching my peanut butter snack cakes, and inquiring as to what they tasted like, etc. At least she was honest.

It's Hotter'en Hell Out There...

Friggin' global warming. It was like a sauna out there today. And add in the rain, and you have a pretty brutal day altogether. The good part is my boss is out of the office today and tomorrow, so I'm essentially on my own, which is beautiful. Her stand-in really could care less what I do. He's more content to argue politics with this other guy, a diehard Liberal (you can guess what the other guy is). Occassionally it can border on the insane, as it gets pretty heated, and in a work environment, it's probably not the best thing to do. But they're lifers, and at this point, who cares. It's just a lot of static for everyone else. I almost feel like it's an episode of "Hardball": a lot of screaming and very little sense is made of anything.

It's always interesting to have lunch with other co-workers. Not only does it give you a chance to catch up with them outside of work, but it also gives you insight into more gossip. And everyone knows how gossip makes the office go round. Today I found out some interesting tidbits: how a few of my co-workers don't have college degrees and can never advance in their position within the company, and...well the rest doesn't really matter. This lack of college experience explains a lot: that's why some of these people have the social skills of a child and the common sense of a toddler. This job never ceases to amaze me.

The good part of this lunch was that I got to connect with a female co-worker; though she threw me a curveball by inviting two other people (one didn't show up, the other seems to not be a threat, as he may lack interest in women), the dialogue between the two of us went extremely well. Safe to say, some of the telltale signs were there, and here's hoping she's not married.

It's the End of the World as We Know It: Seeing a co-worker, who's leaving in a few weeks for another position within the company, almost going apeshit over a copier machine. His slow burn is classic, and hilarious to watch. He almost had his Michael Bolton copier machine moment. If only it had read "PC Load Letter." Or maybe it's better it didn't.

Ticker Tape Parades, Near Death Experiences, and Letdowns...

Sometimes working downtown has its perks. Sure, after 5 the place clears out faster than a Cloverfield monster sighting, but sometimes it works out. Like today. In case you haven't heard, the New York Giants captured the Super Bowl on Sunday over the New England Patriots (as a big sports buff, I could analyze the hell out of the game: Belichick's decision to not go for a field goal on 4th and 13, the emergence of Justin Tuck as a legitimate beast on defense, etc) but I'll save that for the other guys. This is about my life, which is clearly more important. Anyway, today was the parade for the G-Men, and lo and behold, it was starting at 11am near Battery Park, mere minutes from my office. To help matters, I also had a great vantage point from the window near my desk; so I could watch the parade and not be cramped or feel like someone was either grabbing my ass or pickpocketing me. I was content with that. But then after thinking about it, I realized, I had to watch it from the ground, no matter how far I was. Ticker tape parades are few and far between; the last one was for the Evil Empire (The Yankees) in 2000, and there had never been a football parade. The last time the Giants won, I believe in 1990, they didn't have a parade in NYC because former mayor Ed "I hope people forget I was the judge on The People's Court for a period of time" Koch didn't want a non-tax paying entity in "his" city. I think the Giants ended up on a flat bed truck somewhere near Route 3 near the Meadowlands, near the Tick Tock Diner and the Secaucus transfer point for NJ Transit. So this truly was something that hadn't happened in awhile, and may never happen again. And being so close to the actual parade route, it was a no-brainer. I saddled up my camera, and about 10:33am, about four co-workers and I braved the elements and went outside to catch a glimpse (I say "brave the elements" because we all didn't wear jackets; I thought it was supposed to be warmer yet I still shivered; another guy just had chronic armpit sweating issues).

However, our view was obstructed by overly excited Giant fans and a plethora of New York's finest. Seeing nothing in sight (except the buses the players were on, I assume, and an unbelievable amount of attractive women), we went back upstairs, heads down, disappointed. "I really planned on doing no work today," I thought to myself, even though that was most of the days.

While sitting back in my cell, I mean cube, a co-worker came back and said, "We have to go back." I wasn't sure we'd make any progress, but since I wanted any excuse to ditch what I was doing, I obliged, this time making sure to grab my coat.

We trudged downstairs and went out the back entrance, hoping to beat some of the rush. A co-worker warned us we wouldn't see anything, we paid him no mind. We had to at least try. So we went up Wall Street, only to be blocked by more of the po-po on each side street. But then, a break. We found a side street not blocked off. So we and about 500 other people crammed into what amounted into no more than an alley to try to get a glimpse of the promenade. Unfortunately, space and good viewing were in high demand, so we appeared to be out of luck. My co-worker stands about 6'3, so standing on his tippy toes, he was able to get a decent look. Me, being in this case a short 5'9, saw nothing but the back of heads. I was about to go out when an idea struck my co-worker. To my left, where other kids were standing (or rather balancing), there stood a ledge, maybe about 2 inches off the wall and about 3 feet long. "You should go up there," my co-worker exclaimed, not figuring I was chancing certain death. Keep in mind the ledge was probably about 10 feet off the ground, so a spill off that wouldn't likely kill me, but definitely would do some damage. I hesitated, wondering if it was all worth it. But, continuing my "once in a lifetime" thinking, I willingly took a boost from him and jumped up there. Now, the view was exceptional. I was able to see a good amount of the players, and snapped a solid 30+ pics, all while holding onto the ledge with one hand and the other holding my camera. I don't know what I was more worried about; falling or breaking my camera (it was a gift after all). Somehow I kept my balance until I couldn't feel my feet or hands. It was bedlam by me. People everywhere, people climbing onto sanitation trucks, ledges, standing on shoulders. I think voter groups would love to see this type of turnout for the primaries, but I severely doubt it. I have to say though, while it was a trying experience, I'll certainly never forget it, and am glad I did it. Just next time, I'll be getting there early, bringing stilts, and a camera with a better zoom.

In other news, the streak continues with bad news for other job opportunities. I hadn't invested a lot in this one, even though it sounded promising. The editor got back to me saying progress had been made, but they needed the dreaded "more time." I'm to get back to her in another month. Sigh. I should have expected it. I guess that's why I don't get too worked up over these things anymore; I always get let down. And while it's not a definite no-go, it might as well be. Another month. I just keep telling myself, "Just get yourself through another day. Another week. Another month." But I didn't think I'd still be telling myself this, almost eight months later. A co-worker, who is also as despondent over this job situation as I am, ran down the cons of working there, as there were really no pros. Basically, it came down to us feeling like we weren't doing anything for "the greater good." We weren't using our full college degree talents towards anything. And we just weren't going to put out a complete effort for such a meaningless place. I guess that's what it all comes down to. Are you willing to give all of yourself to something you don't care about? I've realized for this place, no. Thankfully I had the parade to take up most of the day. I wish they came around everyday.

It's the End of the World as We Know It: Standing on a ledge to get a glimpse of a bunch of football players I couldn't pick out of a police lineup. A close second: being at the urinal in the bathroom and saying, "I need to wash this crap off my hands." Another person at an adjoining stall replying, "Whoa, you don't use toilet paper?"

It's the Small Wins that Get You By

Not a particularly interesting day today. But I did realize that the little things do get you by sometimes. As much as I don't like what I do, I still try to do it to the best of my abilities. Two projects I'd been working on since I started are almost coming to an end, something I never thought I'd say. I think it's too good to be true; something has to happen to make them not finish. It just wouldn't be me if it didn't. When my boss dropped one of the projects off, I almost jumped back in terror, fearing his wrath. He is well known to be a ballbreaker, and could find a question to ask in anything. But for some reason, he had none for me. I was amazed. Either my project was that good, or he didn't feel like waiting around for an answer. Either way, it was a pleasant surprise.

I attended a pizza party for a departing co-worker today. She was one of the good ones, even though she rocked 1980's pant suits with shoulder pads and sneakers. I think it wasn't so much she was going for the hair band rock look, it's just that she didn't care. She never went out of her way to be friendly, but when you got her to open up, she was really cool. A person who wouldn't bullshit you or treat you like an inferior. She kept to herself for the most part but occasionally you saw her real side. I liked her. She helped me out a lot and never disrespected me; two things that are hard to find in my line of work. Anyway, we went to this ridiculously expensive pizza "bar" where we sat on incredibly high and uncomfortable bar stools at a much lower table. I felt like I was on a high chair. The place is about the size of a Manhattan studio apartment and was incredibly overcrowded. Our group of 7 had to huddle around this tiny table like a bunch of homeless people around a barrel fire. I couldn't complain about the service though; it was quick and friendly, and the waitress was very attractive and had ample...personality. But what made things too awkward are the people I went with. For the most part they're all cool, besides the one guy who I think has a thing for me (which I find flattering, but sad...I get more attention from men than women) but there's this one woman who is just unbelievable. Annoying to no end, complaining about everything, and doing it all in the most annoying nazily voice possible. Similar to nails on a chalkboard, anything she said was automatically irritating. And she finds the weirdest things to make noise about. Like asking everyone if they wanted salad. When everyone replied no, she continued to badger everyone until two people gave in, I think just to shut her up. And she is always a big fan of sharing foods. Now, I don't mind if I'm on a date and it's a dessert (because every guy knows that's a great move to pull), but I really don't like sharing anything. If I ordered it, and paid some outrageous price, I am damn sure going to eat it. But no, this woman insists on sharing. I tried to tune her out though; I was fine with sitting back in the corner pseudo-flirting with another co-worker. I spent the latter part of the day running around getting things signed, so safe to say, a rather productive Friday, even though I lost the sixth item in the last 6 months: a brand-new stick of Blistex. I just bought it today too, had it for less than 5 hours and it was gone. For some reason I have a habit of taking things out of my pocket and examining them, as if they're a magic eight ball or something and will give me a look into the future. I did a similar thing with the Blistex, which worked fantastically by the way, and poof, it's gone. The only reason I bought more is because the last stuff I bought needed to be reapplied roughly every 2 minutes. I guess that's what I get for buying "Lip Infusion," which leaves your lips looking like Angelina Jolie's after you apply it. And the little rollerball tip was fun at first, but after that, it felt like a truck was running over your lips when you applied it, so I definitely wasted 3 bucks on that. I think it's a sign I cannot buy anything anymore. Period. I'll just lose it. And I never was like that before.

It's the End of the World as We Know It: Two things. Discussing with another co-worker if Time's Man of the Year, Vladimir Putin, took over our department. After it was mentioned, my co-worker immediately pointed out two people across from us and said, "They'd definitely be gone." One is a single overweight meatball-ish man who buys groceries at Duane Reade to stock the fridge, and nonchalantly breaks wind daily. He was last seen sprinting into the bathroom after laying two monster farts, and dropping his pants before entering a stall. The other has a heart of gold but probably has a heart the size of a rhinoceros. Severely overweight but always friendly, he's kind of like Grimace. But Putin would definitely pick them off like flies. I said he'd probably shoot them point blank to prove a point. Yes, I'm sick.

The other was a co-worker forwarding an e-mail to me about something that annoying woman said the other day. When asked to do something by my boss, she replied, "That's not on the top of my to do list of priorities today" or something to that extent. Everyone just kind of gave her the shrug sign, and dismissed it. But a co-worker sent an e-mail saying to use that phrase which will "most certainly impress senior management." The beauty of my job...and you wonder why I'm miserable.

Sports References Always Work

I've created a new tagline for work. Sports references always work in the workplace ("Game on" when referring to starting your day, "Posting up" when referring to your estimated time of arrival), but I found the perfect phrase the other day. While sitting with a bunch of chaps (people don't use that word enough, so like sexy, I'm trying to bring it back) at Subway while we dined on our sandwiches (which we received at a unbeatable price---thank you Smart Shopper coupons), I came to the conclusion that work is like a football game. It can be a lot of games, but football works the best. You walk in, and the game has begun. You have until lunch to accomplish your tasks at hand and put points on the board, so to speak. While it's not imperative you score, it's best to always put out your best effort and not have to go into halftime (lunch) with a full to-do list left. You then go into halftime, knowing whether you're up or not. Halftime is crucial. It determines whether you can go back into the second half knowing if you can simply "take a knee," and just not do anything the rest of the day since you did so much before lunch, or if you have to play catch up. I try to always be up by halftime and cruise into leaving for the day. It doesn't always happen, but it's a fair goal to shoot for. After relating this message to my co-workers, they all got a big kick out of it, but realized how relevant it is. One co-worker told me it could have been the best one I'd come up with ever (even though I was responsible for coronating another co-worker as "Rampage"...even though he didn't like it at all). But think about how true it is. So in short, everyone should shoot for taking a knee after lunch. That way you'll still have the energy (maybe) to forge ahead for another game (also called Tuesday).

I'm traveling to the Great White North the end of the month for a site visit. I'm kind of excited but it's only for a night, so I plan to make the most of that night. I hope the people I'm traveling with aren't going to act like my parents and enforce a curfew, or worse, we're all in the same room. I definitely don't need bunkmates. I dealt with that for four years of college. During the day I'll be tied up but after that, I'm free. I hear Montreal has a great nightlife, so hopefully I'll be able to enjoy it.

I sometimes think leaving that job will be bad. Our staff is grossly understaffed and losing another person would be bad for morale. But then I think, I really don't care if I do. I'll give them the professional courtesy and leave after two weeks, but I don't think I owe them more than that. I guess a part of me thinks since this was my first job, I owe it to them to stay. My parents seem to think I should stick it out, even if they don't say that directly. I know it has excellent job security, good potential for advancement, etc. But I swear, if I'm still there by the summer, please take me out back and beat me with a switch. I refuse to stay in a place just because it's safe and secure. That's the attitude of a lot of people there, and I'll be damned if I add to the list. I've applied to other positions and been let down each time. I've learned not to invest too much energy into anything; you'll just be let down. It's a bad mindset, but that way, you're never let down. So now I have this opportunity on the table. Not really even on the table; let's just say it's in the air. I have to make another phone call to the contact tomorrow or over the weekend. It involves writing, which is beautiful to me, but what it really involves is getting out of where I am now. Though if it was a paycut and worse hours, that'd be bad. As much as I despise what I do, getting out at 3:30 is pretty sweet. It leaves me so much time to...waste money at Starbucks while my friends finish their days, or work out...yeah, that's about it. That's what my life has come down to folks. Starbucks and free weights. You can bet how exciting my weekends are.

Kind of a rambling, incoherent post as always, but I never said this blog would be good or even make sense. The important part is, I've gotten it off my chest and out of my head, so maybe it'll help me to sleep throughout the night and not wake up before my alarm goes off. Wishful thinking I guess.

It's the End of the World as We Know It: Being called "David" for about the fourth time since I started working there. While my name is close to that, it isn't that. But for some reason, that's what I'm being called. Even when my name is written down on the paper in front of them. Or on the e-mail I send. I'm gonna start calling people another name and see how they feel. It reminds me of this classic "Scrubs" exchange:

Dr. Kelso: [impressed] Well, excellent catch Dr..... uh... Dr.... uhm....

J.D.'s Thoughts: Dorian. You see me every day. Say my name; say it!

Dr. Kelso: [looking in the chart J.D. had given him] ....Martinez.

J.D.: That was the name of the patient, sir.

Dr. Kelso: [looking again] ...Avery.

J.D.: No, actually, that's the--that's the manufacturer of the clipboard...sir.

Life is Full of Surprises...

Sometimes my faith in humanity is restored. Now granted, I don't really believe in faith or karma. I think things just happen; there's no reason behind anything. I guess these beliefs were shaped in me after reading Nietzsche in college. I just don't think there's an afterlife, or a God for that matter. But then there will be times where I'm pleasantly surprised with things.

I lost my bus pass last Friday. I have this routine set up where I get my pass out, show the kindly driver, and then put it back in my messenger bag and grab a seat (usually at the back because lately my bus is now averaging 40+ passengers a day). The routine is something I don't think twice about. But on Friday, I guess the planets weren't aligned or the fat lady sung, because as I got off the bus at that ridiculous hour to head into work (I get a 6:10 into New York to be at work by 7:30. I'm always early though), I went into my bag to grab my pass, and lo and behold, no pass. I went into panic mode instantly. I frantically searched the ground while what felt like thousands of people trampled over me like Simba in "The Lion King." I thought, "Maybe it's still on the bus. Surely it couldn't have gotten far." So I asked the nice driver if I could check and immediately I tried to scour where I sat, searching for this ridiculous piece of laminated paper. Now looking back, I should have just stayed on the bus and looked for it, and let the driver tell me time was up. I was worried about being late; the whole thing is, there was roughly about $200 in passes (one month) in that ID holder, so I really wanted it back. After looking for about two minutes, I went to the subway, dejected, but mostly annoyed and angry. I went into work in a bad mood, more so than I usually do.

Then began my hectic Friday of running back and forth, trying to secure a new pass. My job didn't make things easy. The kind receptionist who spoke little to no English informed me I could get a replacement one the same day, but it required me to go back and forth between their office and my own, eventually having to get a statement notarized saying I wasn't lying about losing it. Yes, notarized. They may as well have asked me to put my hand on the Bible.

After I took care of that, and proceeded to take one of the worst ID pictures ever (blurry, eyes half closed, crooked head) I went to see about the NJ Transit situation. I hoofed it to the Port Authority and went to the Customer Service window. I was met by a guy behind what looked like bulletproof glass, probably because he knew people don't come here in the best of moods, and attempt to attack him. He informed me I couldn't be issued another pass because they weren't "responsible" for it. Even though I'd be paying for more passes in the future, it was no dice. Dejected, I went to the NYPD to see if I could file a police report. Now I wanted to file a report saying my pass was stolen, but unfortunately there were too many "variables" as the officer said to make that decision. He was right. I had already pseudo frauded my company by telling them it was stolen; that way if it happened again (which I will make sure it doesn't) it would be the "first" time I lost it, not the second. Sneaky? Yes. But, it took me coming to my job to learn these tricks of the trade. Anyway, Officer Caruso (like the "singer" he said, though I was unsure of any singer by that last name) was nice about it, and offered to write me a report for a lost pass anyway. I obliged, mainly because I was there anyway. I brought this story back to NJT, who denied me again. Frustrated, I went back, knowing I wasted an entire day just to straighten this out.

I had already accepted the fact I'd have to buy another pass. I had contacted NJT's lost claims department and essentially put out an APB at the PANY also. I wasn't too sure it'd ever show up; there was a full February pass in there, the equivalent to finding free money for commuters. I pleaded my case to a NJT rep. I'd dealt with before, figuring it wouldn't hurt to ask. I had been a valued customer for all of 4 months. He later wrote me back saying he forwarded my inquiry to the bus ticketing supervisor. Finally, a break. Long story short, due to my honesty in saying it was lost, they granted me a "once in a lifetime" refund for the pass. These refunds are usually reserved for passes that weren't mailed, theft, or bribery (well, maybe not the last one, but I never asked). While I still will be paying the money anyway, it won't have to be bought twice. So sometimes people and things can surprise you. While it may not make me a believer, it was enough to restore some faith in humanity. It was like the time I lost my wallet in K-Mart, when I was buying really expensive Christmas gifts (isn't knock off gold and Thom McCann shoes considered "classy"?) and dropped my wallet. I had a decent amount of money in there, at least for a 12 year old, and it was a decent wallet, something I obtained through my parents' Marlboro cigarettes (see kids, it does pay to harm your body! You too can get free stuff like me through these point systems). While I went home, saddened in knowing my family and friends would likely be shut out of bath towels this Christmas, I received a phone call from a stranger. "Is this Daniel?" He asked. "Yes," I replied, not knowing if this was Ed McMahon or a bad man from "To Catch a Predator." "I found your wallet. You can come pick it up." I couldn't believe it. I had no identification in it, besides some type of membership to National Geographic Magazine. I later found out this guy had searched the entire phone book of my last name, calling each name until he found the right one. Unbelievable. I picked it up and asked him if he wanted the money, since everything was still in there. He didn't accept it. I remember sending him a Christmas card the next year, thanking him again for his unreal honesty. I'm reminded of him when I think about this past Friday. Maybe that's why I thought something good could happen; after experiencing that incredible show of kindness, anything's possible, I guess. It just gives you enough hope that maybe we can survive as a people. But then I see these talentless hacks on TV, exposing their naughty bits and acting every bit as "Hollywood" as they shouldn't be, and I realize...our kids are in for some real shit soon.

New addition: a random site/observation I'll dub "It's the End of the World as We Know It," a take on the classic R.E.M. song that seemingly only has the lyrics of that title and Leonard Bernstein in it.

First entry: Hearing my former supervisor (a guy I'll have to tell you about soon) say in response to hearing the name "Mohammed Hakeem": "You think he's an Al Quada operative?" Then laughing hysterically twice, but not in succession.

The Return...You Miss Me?

To the three people that read this, I sincerely apologize for my laziness in posting. I had a lot of notable events happen in December, mostly seeing the death of a co-worker about 10 feet in front of me, but I never addressed it. It's a pretty long story, so I don't want to get into it right now. But I'll revisit it soon, because it was something I'll certainly never forget.

So where do I begin? I guess I'll catch everyone up, like a "Lost" summary episode (they show one of these like once a week):

I'm still at my current job. The 18th of this month was my 7 month anniversary. But why am I not, as Bob Kelso would say on "Scrubs," sitting bareassed on the copier? Maybe because the copier machines couldn't support my frame. Maybe because our copier machines malfunction more than a Janet Jackson breast and I wouldn't get a good scan. Or maybe it's because I still hate my job. Probably more so now than ever before. Every Sunday night, like about this time, I dread the end of the day. Because I know I'll have to set foot into that monster for another week. Another week of drama and monotony. Another week of annoying bosses and nosy co-workers.

I guess I really shouldn't complain; while I'm still looking for another job, it's nice to know I have a job to still fall back on. And the work isn't that dreadful; I have finally started to get the hang of things and feel like I'm starting to come into my own. But I guess it's just a combination of everything: the boring work, the high levels of bureaucracy, the idea that I'm not adequately applying everything I've learned (including four years of college) into this. I don't know anymore.

Maybe it's just the idea that the people I work with couldn't work anywhere else. Sure, a lot of them are really smart and talented, and could be anywhere. But it's these other "creatures," I'll call them, that are there. The ones who clearly could never get a job at McDonalds, but have 20 years in where I work. It's sickening to think what people can get away with. Lateness, unprofessional ism, and just overall idiocy. I get disgusted just seeing some of these people: the two 300+ pound men who just look like they've given up and are, gasp, satisfied with their appearance (even though we routinely meet with vendors daily). The people who dress as if "business casual" is just a suggestion, not a rule. But mainly it's just the people who walk in everyday, don't do anything, and nothing comes of it. That's what gets me the worst: this place is so scared of stepping on anyone's toes, that they'll just look the other way when something happens, instead of facing it head on. There has been numerous instances where people have clearly been committing some type of fault, and in any other place, they'd be disciplined and likely fired. Not this fantastic place. They'll just move your desk or brush it under the rug.

That is mainly why I need to get out. I almost feel like Tim Robbins in "The Shawshank Redemption." Not to that extreme (I also don't have that friendly Morgan Freeman-type watching my back either), but I can feel for him. Stuck in a place he sees no way of getting out of. The only way to get out is to do it himself. Make his own destination. And I'm trying, I'm really trying. I know there's light at the end, but it's just really faint right now. But I know it's out there.

What really put everything into perspective was looking my bus passes and ID card two days ago. It was the third item (besides two scarves in about a month) I'd lost, and boy, let me tell you: don't ever lose anything from my company. They make things as easy as getting a prostate exam from a prison guard with rough skin. My entire day was spent shuffling back and forth trying to get replacement cards and passes. I had my February bus pass in there, because who ever thinks you'll lose this stuff? But when you break that routine once, I'm telling you, it screws everything up. Long story short: I probably have to buy new passes, at a great price of $173! Because NJ Transit could care less how you lose them; they just want to make sure you get new ones. Gee, life is great.

But back to the job. Other times it's like "Scrubs." That may just because I love that show to no end and can quote it like some can quote the Bible, but I really think they're related. While the building I work in isn't a hospital, it has a lot of the same recurring themes. The attractive staff (well at least some of them). Gossip about the new people who get hired. Interesting "patients." A mentor-type figure we all have (for me, it was that one guy who recently passed, but now it's this kindhearted Palestinian father of four who sits behind me). But really it's about me, my close female friend (we'll just call her Eliot to keep things Scrubs-related) and Turk (same thing). Between those two, it keeps me at least half sane. I've had a lot of fun times with them. With Eliot, I can joke around with her about our mutual disdain for the job (she has a similar feeling) and our mutual love for her boss (who happens to be male, I guess it can be called a "man crush"). With Turk, on the other hand, we can talk about weightlifting, and then laugh about seeing our effiminate boss talking on his cellphone in the wind screaming "It's really windy out here" as it looks like his 20 lb. body is about to be lifted into the current. When I do leave (not if), it'll be sad to leave them behind, if they're still there. But sometimes, you just can't look back. Who am I? I guess J.D. But I can see a lot of myself in the other people too. It's amazing how much art can imitate life.

But really why I want to get out the most is because my heart just isn't in it. I know I could give more of myself to this job, and if I liked it, I would. But I really am just to the point where I do enough to get by and leave. Why should I put more time into this if I don't care? I'm to the point where when my boss comes down on me, I just shake it off and could care less. I try to create the illusion of being bulletproof, but it's really just not caring. My co-workers are astounded by my unflappableness (if that's a word...spellcheck begs to differ), but I don't want to let anyone see me sweat. I don't want them to get the benefit that they've gotten to me. I want to show them I won't buckle under pressure, like a lot of other people there.

I guess I mainly am just depressed because my entire life seems to be just in a holding pattern. Professionally, I think I have expressed that quite clear enough. Romantically...it's as bare as the rainforest will be in 30 years. Any chances/potential I've had, nothing's come of it. My most recent missed field goal (also see how many sports references I can make) was with this girl I met a few months ago. She was a secretary with a company I dealt with daily. I talked to her a few times and always felt like there was some chemistry there. Finally, after mustering up enough courage to ask her out (on company time no less), it never happened. Missed calls and chances flew by, until I called her back later in 2007. Now, I guess I should mention I've never met this girl or even know what she looks like. I just know her name. And since I subtly can't just ask her "So, by the way, do you look like Jessica Alba in Maxim, or do you have more of a Rosie O'Donnell thing going on," I just have to take my chances. I figure why not. I have nothing to lose. Unfortunately, our date that was supposed to happen never did (as she was away on another "vacation"). I don't think it's an excuse, because she still seems genuinely interested. But I can't wait. I have to keep looking. At this point in my life, it's all about taking chances. And at 22 and 3/4 years old, I'd really like for something to happen.

My dream over the next 6 months is for the following things to happen:

• Move out by the summer. I just can't stand living at home anymore. I'm not charged rent and get meals and laundry, like college, but it's just becoming too taxing anymore. Getting into the city is too much of a pain in the ass from here, even though I'm not that far. And I just need to have my own space. I want to be able to be on my own, like college. But...
• If I switch jobs and take a paycut, that won't be happening. That's what I worry: am I willing to bite the bullet now for something I want long term?
• Find "the one," or at least the "for now". I guess this is a never ending problem my friends and I have: we're all great guys, but just have no luck with the ladies. We're no "Rat Pack" I guess, but we're definitely no "Mutants from Table 9" either (two points to someone who knows what movie that's from). I know it's all about going out there and being proactive, but it's not as easy as Vince Vaughn makes it out to be. And women certainly don't make things easier, either.
• Be happy. I am not miserable, but I'm not giddy with delight. Hopefully if the above bulleted points happen sooner rather than later, I will be. But for now, I guess I'm just complacent (there I am using that word again).

Ok, that's enough for now. I really am going to make a conscientious effort to write at least 3 times a week, if not more. I won't say it's a New Year's Resolution (because anyone who makes them breaks them anyway...might as well be, "What I plan to not do this year"), but it's a hope.