Rich… Actually Suicide…

I understand the difference between social classes and why certain people stay away from others. It’s kind of like the older generations staying away from the younger generations. I personally think ‘kids’ nowadays are lazy little bastards that want everything handed to them. Anyways…

I work in an area where there is a LOT of people with a LOT of money. I refrained from saying ‘rich’ right there. Some of these people are down to earth and you wouldn’t realize any difference because of their income. Some of these people however, are rude and obnoxious and all kinds of things that I’m going to not say in this post. What makes them that way?

Little penis syndrome? What is it for women? No one has any right to treat anyone like shit just because there is a difference of money being made. The amount of money one person has (or the amount of things) is really just a number. It is something that quite honestly I want to quit writing about right now. I realized that halfway through this, I could care less about people that have no sense.

What I will mention is my secret love for the cool analytics of this WordPress site. I get to see how many people find my blog because they look up ‘yoga pants camel toe’… I also get to see who looks me up by name specifically. I can only imagine (cough, cough) who it is… I’m slightly flattered, and slightly annoyed on the same coin. A cool thing I came to the conclusion on… If you find my blog ‘consumption’ you might realize that I have a perfect exit strategy to deal with life’s biggest problems. Death.

Apparently my actions and inactions are making people’s lives hell. I mean, I’m such a spoiled judgmental brat. Sometimes I wonder why the hell I keep going, day after day… Being that I’m excited for the day to see where we go after we die, why couldn’t that day come sooner? No guilt trips, no hard feelings. I’ll leave all my junk to whoever wants it. Then I realize… If I’m perfectly OK with being done with my life here on earth, why not make the best of the time I got here? Hell, even if I end up in jail or maybe some Amazonian jungle tribe, I could still have a pretty good story to write? Couldn’t I?

I’ve done enough with my life to realize that I’m still bored out of my mind. Maybe I can live a life that when I die, I can get more than a few likes on Facebook for what I’ve contributed. Until then, I’ll be doing what I do, waiting for someone to push me over the edge. Except I may not be the one that falls because of it.

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The right question…

After a long day of work, I spent a good portion of my afternoon having a ‘heated’ debate with the dean of this ridiculous school that I chose to attend. Of all that was said, I mentioned to her that all I am ultimately trying to do at this point is not waste any more of my GI Bill benefits and need to be able to attend a different school. Aside from having to pay out of pocket for this school, I’m beyond ‘unhappy’ at this point. Of course her role was to downplay any fault they had on their behalf. The highlight I just realized is that when I told her I’m going to another school she said “Good, then you’ll know the right questions to ask ahead of time.” Wait a second now… I asked this school all the right questions and they fucking lied to me. I asked all the questions on purpose on multiple occasions and here I am stuck in a situation that I can’t call anyone to bail me out of. No big deal right?

So what IS the right question to ask anyone about anything? I did my due diligence when it came to making sure all the ducks were in a row. I did what I was required to do to hold up my end of the bargain. I’m not the ignorant one here. I may have made a dumb mistake choosing a school with a horrible track record of their treatment of Veterans, but that in no way makes me liable for their lies. It’s not my first rodeo either. Just spent two years getting flight school paid for without a single hitch. Why can’t these yahoo’s figure out simple accounting, let alone telling the truth…

Odds are…

In my spare time I trade currencies. It’s a real nominal amount of money. Nothing worth suing me over. I’ve dabbled in huge realm of futures, stock, options and currencies for about thirteen years or so and though the money isn’t there to speak for my experience, the lessons learned are proving to be valuable beyond measure. I came up with a semi-easy strategy for greater profit potential. Reality is, it’s all a game of chance. Being the little guy in the game, we never actually know with certainty where the market is heading. If we did, I can tell you we’d all be millionaires… Yet if we were all millionaires, where would the money come from? The losers of course.

With my new system I have to be right half the time to make money. What does being ‘right’ consist of? Simply a price movement of a certain degree in a given direction. That’s all. I could flip a coin and odds are I’d make just as much money as someone who spends all day every day studying the markets. It’s nothing secret, it’s nothing revolutionary… It consists of things that so many of us forget about even in our day to day life.

You win some, you lose some…

It’s all relative to the big picture really. In my system, my losses seem like a lot and my gains don’t seem to outweigh the losses by much. So how is it possible to get ahead? I keep the total loss and total gain in perspective. If I made three million but lost two million… I still just made an assload of money, right? It’s a question of how much am I willing to allow myself to go before I get scared and chase the downtrend in hopes of catching the entire ride back to the top? It’s not only a tragic mistake of investors, it’s a tragic mistake of life in general.

I’m still trying to finalize a more concise picture on this new strategy but so far I feel a million times better about it that any arbitrary piece of advice I get from someone who simply analyzes the past instead of the present.

As some of my readers might have figured out, I like to correlate trivial activities of my life into the bigger picture of human interaction. This strategy is no different. I can’t be upset at things that don’t work out. It’s the natural flow of things. If I chase after it like I would a dying trade position, I’ll find myself worn out and void of any hope that things will turn around. I get reactive and am always behind the natural flow of order.

We can’t always plan ahead for the next big break in life. We also can’t discount the fact that there will inevitably be some crashes. If we can manage to hedge our bets in a systematic and disciplined manner we should be able to prosper… Right? In my life I’ve managed to ride the downtrend while losing myself expecting the whole thing to turn around at every little uptick I saw. It’s time to slow it down, believe in a systematic approach to everything I do and share it with others when it does work… As planned. Or not…

Booger…

So today was a mess of a day all in all. No matter what I tried to do I simply couldn’t get ahead of myself to take a breather. Spent the morning at the school, the bank, the other school, the traffic, the apartment…. Blah… And then I was humbled by a booger.

It was a moderately busy day today at work and I typically can run the bar (I make coffee) by myself as long as the support is there. Coffee house stories I’m sure no one here cares about. There was a line out the door and the pressure was on. I had a good flow goin’ and things started working out just fine. All the machines worked as they should, other employees seemed to be on the same wavelength, customers were overall very pleasant. And then I felt it. It worked its way from the upper reaches of my cavernous sinus pathways to the rim of my left nostril… I twitched and wiggled to alleviate the feeling and hopefully this booger that felt like the size of a chocolate truffle hanging, waiting to be dropped into a drink as the audience of customers looked on. I had to keep my head down just in case it was still visible. I found an opportunity to sneak away for two seconds and run to the back. Looked in the mirror and viola! No booger. Nothing, nada… I tilted back, forward, to the side… Nope… No booger… It was the elusive ghost booger. How the hell do I get rid of it?

I had to filter my interaction because of a perceived issue I had with myself. If I would have known there was nothing peeking out of my nose I could have been quite a bit more interactive with people and maybe made the entire experience better. I second guessed the ever popular bicep-nose clear just in case.

Sometimes we just have to let things happen and be who we are no matter what. No need to overthink it. I mean, the guy at the coffee house making your morning latte with a drippy oozy slime ball hanging from the scent-sory mechanism of his face isn’t the most appetizing thing, but it’s never really as bad as it sounds. I tend to be pretty comfortable in my own skin yet I find myself in situations where I care a little too much about how I’m perceived by others.

Who cares really? I’m no there to judge anybody and I’m also not here to be judged by others. I gotta find a way to stop caring so much what I might look like or act like towards other people…

Writing a blank…

I realized something on the drive home tonight. I’ve never known what is is to truly love. No, really. I’ve never missed home, I’ve never missed anyone outside of masked insecure feelings, I’ve never longed for a safe place I’ve ever known. Sure enough, I’ll get criticism for this post but it’s my blog, it’s my life and if you don’t like it click that cool little ‘x’ button on the window or do whatever it is you gotta do to quit.

As I’ve realized recently, I love being around people yet I kinda despise people. Some people. I work at a Coffee shop in one of the richest neighborhoods so you may imagine I can already tell some stories of the disgusting attitudes people spew. On the flip side, I can also tell you stories about some of the most amazing people I’ve met at this particular location. Life isn’t all about the assholes that make their presence well known. Sometimes we just have to look past it.

I’ve had a pretty good life. I lived a fairly sheltered childhood that kept me safe from boogeymen and the molesters that would inevitably take me if I strayed too far from home. I always had a roof over my head and was fed and all that kinda good stuff. I know my family loves me in their own way and that isn’t something I want to take away from them.

Truth of the matter is, I have felt empty for a lot of years. A lot. I’ve learned what guilt is and I’m not a fan of it. Suicide has been pinned on me and ya know what? Good for fuckin’ her… It had nothing to do with me. How dare someone put such a horrible emotion into someone else. I try as hard as I can to avoid even playful guilt trips with people. If someone doesn’t want to feel the way I want them to, they have every right to that. I will never fault anyone for that (or at least I’m going to try my damnedest).

There’s a lot more about my life that I have to save for the journal that must be burned after every entry. I think about things a lot when I get to the end of my day such as right now. I’m not OK with certain things that have happened to me, and I’m not here to point fingers or place blame because in the end, my life as it stands is because of my own actions.

This kind of blog entry is what happens when I truly have writers block. I tried to avoid venting about pissy people or experiences with un-passionate people. As I wrote about in my last entry, I sit in front of the blank canvas of my life and try to open myself up to inspiration. I look for it in my dreams, yet sometimes those don’t seem real enough for me.

Dying art…

My writing has dropped off, I know. No one really cares and that’s perfectly OK with me. This is just as much about a discovery for me as it is a discovery for anyone who stumbles upon it to learn about me. I feel less and less motivated to write lately, yet I am finding some aspects of life that I don’t think I’d otherwise feel about if I didn’t come out with the simple truth that is inside my heart this last year.

I’ve confirmed that guilt is not my happy place. Anxiety is not either. The only one that matters at this point is me, and as selfish as that sounds there is really nothing wrong with it. We are allowed to love ourselves and we don’t need confirmation from anyone else. I’ve learned that walking away is sometimes the best thing to do when life isn’t going as planned, yet giving up is not an option either.

I’ve been noticeably weaker lately. I’m tired. I want to sleep because I like it. I want to say nothing sometimes because that’s truly what’s on my mind. I’ve spent enough of my life being crucified for not talking, or talking too much to really give a shit anymore.

What I want to create feels like a painting I haven’t painted yet. I’m sitting in a run down old studio apartment in a city I’m still itching to love with a huge blank canvas ahead of me. Every random thing I do in life seems to be merely the motion of lazily dropping the brush in the paint jar, picking it up and slopping a line or two for me to look at and say “no… that’s not quite right…” and then I rub it off and try to start again. My canvas has the undertones of black and gray along with bright blues reds and greens. All smudged out with a full canvas waiting to be made love to. My art is my life and my life is at a standstill. I know what I want to paint. I can see it clearly yet just like Picasso can’t be told to paint a masterpiece on demand, there’s nothing that can be done to me at this point to force it out. I may never be remembered as anything great. I’m simply a memory of those who have crossed my path and may or may not still be in my life.

I’m standing, waiting, with brush in hand, dying to turn my back on the world and put my love of the fire inside me that I cannot deny onto this huge canvas that has been given to me. For some the traditional arts is their way of communicating emotions. I’ve tried to pick up a few instruments yet I’ve had little luck in channeling the energy to learn the technical aspect. Same as dance or song. Oh, how I’d love to be able to sing. As for me, my instrument is life itself. Orchestrating movements in a world that otherwise makes no sense. Every brush stroke has meaning yet all I want to do at times is tear the canvas down and start completely anew.

It’s the moment of inspiration that we all seem to be needing. Even those who are on a path of altruism have room for more. At this specific point in time I am setting the brush down to walk to an area of life that seemingly does me no good. What is good will come to me, I know.

Coffee…

I have a love affair with coffee. It’s a bit of a confusing relationship though. Sometimes I’m extremely faithful and other times I stray. I’ll go weeks drinking nothing but tea and juice while my coffee unknowingly sits in the corner and weeps for my attention. It gets back at me sometimes though. If I don’t treat it right, I’ll down a cup or two in the morning and it reminds me at the most inopportune time who is really in charge.

It has been there for me in some of the hardest of times. Even more so than alcohol. If I feel lonely, I can get my social fix in by going down to the local ‘bucks and simply grabbing a good old cup of brewed black coffee. If I feel a bit too crowded, it’s like a form of meditation for me. I can sit wherever I want and sip on a cup for hours. Just me and the coffee.

What better way to start a date than grabbing a cup of coffee. What better way to talk about changing the world than by grabbing a cup of coffee. What better way to share some love than by grabbing a cup of coffee… It will keep the conversation going by offering warmth to cold hands which would otherwise warrant an escape from the environment. Nothing to say? Take a sip… Or two… It needs no explanation.

It reminds us that we have to take life down a notch every now and then. Every flavor and every nuance of the aroma can trigger memories we didn’t even know we had. One sip and you can be sitting in a garden with a golden retriever by your side. The next sip you can be on a forty foot sailboat waiting for the fog to pass in the harbor, listening to the eerie sound of a distant halyard slapping a mast. It may remind you of grandparents or friends long passed. It may remind you of waking up after the craziest of nights. The kind of night where you don’t know what happened after you said ‘I’ll have another!’, yet the person who brought you home is the person sharing that cup with you the next morning. It could be the cup you remember drinking as you saw the movies come to real life when to he towers fell.

There’s something about coffee that goes beyond the taste and texture. Its a drug of course, loaded with caffeine… It brings us to a place we all want to be and that place is different for every one of us. A cup of coffee would help me write so much more about it than now, but I’m tired… Must sleep…

Beat down…

After a much needed power nap tonight I woke up ever so slowly with a few text messages and some muddled Facebook browsing. I came across a video/story about the beating death of Kelly Thomas in Fullerton, 2011. A homeless guy, sitting on a bench trying to make sense of the cop’s instructions ends up being beaten beyond recognition. What got my blood to boil was hearing on the video his pleads for help and saying he’s sorry.

I’m not one to throw out ‘bad-cop’ stories because I have faith that a good majority of cops follow through with integrity throughout their career, but this video was along the line of Rodney King kinda maddening…

Being beat uncontrollably by someone else is all too familiar to me. I can forgive certain people for doing what they do. The guy that tied me up and beat me almost unconscious during the robbery in ’98 had a viable reason to do so. He was scared. Doesn’t make it right, but he wanted money and he was lost for solutions when he realized I couldn’t get him the money out of the safe. Criminal he was, so he continued to act as a criminal. I forgive him for his stupid decision.

Some people I can’t forgive. Some people can pull this strange kind of evil from deep within their souls and have no regard for what goes on in another human’s head. I bet you these cops still think they did nothing wrong, even though the proof is in the pudding. They had no reason to justify their mind numbing decision to lose all control. If a violent gang member beats another person to death it is oddly more accepted than a trusted person of the law doing the same.

Hearing the screams from the guy in the video makes me hurt inside imagining the darkness and evil he had to endure in those last moments of his life. Who do you cry out to when the ones to save you are the ones who kill you? What the hell kind of karma must one have acquired to have to endure that? Wherever that guy goes after his death I sure hope he gets taken care of tenfold. It’s beyond helpless feelings that I can barely imagine going though his mind at that time.

At that moment in time, I found myself transitioning to watching it objectively since sometimes people provoke these actions, to realizing that we are closer and closer to living in a police state, to realizing that socio-political factors are child’s play compared to the obscenities we as humans spew from our actions. This is beyond needing to love each other. This is beyond a simple picket line protesting injustices. This is beyond separation of social classes. Kelly Thomas was one man, of many, who have sacrificed in ways they never thought possible to hint and nudge to the people that real hardcore change is in order. His homelessness seems trivial compared to the impact he’s had because of his sacrifice.

We are restrained. Seeing this video makes me wish I wasn’t simply one person. My words here may never reach a vast audience to do anything more than cause another uptick in activity against the establishment. Without the fire inside me exploding out of this sad body of mine like a nuclear explosion, I have to accept that these are things we are born to accept as the way life is here on earth.

Sometimes I wish I wasn’t simply one person only able to write about my opinion.

Time…

Seems to not be on my side for some reason. Why do we have to conform to time standards such as what we have now? I’m mean sure, we follow the movement of the earth around the sun etc etc, but what’s the point of staying confined to these limitations? I learned when I was building my restaurant that time that other people operate on is quite different than mine. I busted my ass to get the place built yet was constantly being pushed back in my opening date because I couldn’t get the support needed to get my kitchen hood installed and certified. Sadly, a month and a half after my projected opening date and rent of four thousand dollars due already, someone finally got off their ass to finish the job. Since I’m not ‘certified’ to do certain parts of it I had to wait for someone else. The entire process took about two days? Soo, why couldn’t it have been done much sooner? Who knows and who cares…

I like to work alone a lot of times because I don’t have to rely on someone else carrying their own weight, let alone holding up their end of the bargain. I think it’s really about leverage too. You go buy something with your debit card and the money is taken out of your account before the card is even handed back to you. But if you get money refunded on use card, of course it takes several days. It’s funny when you end up learning how the electronic transfer systems really work with banks and the like. You realize that we as ‘normal people’ other wise known as ‘sheep’ are subject to the rules set forth by people who simply have a hell of a lot more money than us. I recently had to withdrawal some money out of an account to fix my car… I was initially told that it would take about three days. Ugh, right? I explained the urgency of the matter and the guy (who has no personal interest in keeping my money) said he’d release the funds same day. Crazy thing, sharply at midnight, the funds were already in my bank account. So, this is proof to my knowledge that these ‘processing times’ are some bullshit excuse for others to maintain irrational control over others. Kind of like the reason you have to turn off your electronic devices in a plane. It’s not because it will interfere with navigational equipment, it’s because they want people to be paying attention to the flight attendant briefing and to be able to function properly if anything goes wrong. I digress…

Random tangent on this one but it’s late and I’m tired. I have an alarm to wake up to… To go and try to make money to survive… Because that’s why we’ve been put on this planet… Right?