The Badly Written Sitcom

One week into my new "job", and I already feel it. It’s that feeling that finally, I can rest. Finally I find a job that’s perfect for me: no effort, no responsibility, and good money (which I have yet to see, of course). It’s like being back in college.

I could go on and on about my film projects, but apparently everyone’s out making movies as well,so I would just focus on one of the biggest challenges I’ve encountered in my entire life: delivering a stool sample. Now, I’m not saying I’m above getting a piece of my crap and hauling it with me as I walk around the city, I’m just saying it’s not right. First of all, how do you contain it?  Me? I got the job done with an empty peanut butter jar. (Now, let’s just all sit back and appreciate that.) Secondly, should certain conditions be observed? Temperature? Weather?

I got that piece of shit safely to where it’s headed, and I must say, I am proud. It’s not as simple as people say.

I read your blog, Ed. I would have sent you a message, but since you do read my blog, I thought I should reply here. Great that you are writing again, but I don’t think I had anything to do with that. You have always had that particular talent.

Jo, if you’re reading, there are certain people who would appreciate if you stopped doing certain things. That’s all I can say.

I think people come in templates. It’s weird. I know everyone supposed to be unique and all that, but I don’t know. Maybe god’s imagination has been stretched too much. Recycing ideas isn’t all that bad. Look at local TV and film.

Lastly, I think I can officially say that love no longer exists. True love I mean. The truly selfless, unconditional type that moves people to do the right thing in its very name and defy odds. The only thing left is but a shallow substitute whose main purpose is to sell useless items like flowers and other crap.

      A guy goes offline for a week and already my e-mail is full of job offerings that will just reject me anyway. Crap.

      What is the big fucking deal with all that Big Brother bullshit? Jesus. More interesting things have come out of my ass. (That’s a fact my friend Albert knows full well.)

      Back to the ranting and raving. It’s official, I am going back to the call center biz. (Unless of course they find something in my piss that makes them decide I’m not worthy of the headphones again.) And for some strange reason, I feel awesome. I feel like I’m back in college again, like I now have another chance to be the me I’m most comfortable with.

     Being unemployed has given me the opportunity to look at my life and come up with ways to rearrange it the way it’s supposed to be. Now, I feel whole again. I’ve got enough time for my friends, for my personal thoughts, and now I’m almost back to that point that I can actually give the world a "fuck you" and mean it. I know I’ve gone soft since stepping out of college, turning me from larger-than-life student to just another larger-than-average person. I’m free. Life is nearly perfect. Just a little more fine tuning, and I’ll be me.

     You know, I watch too much Ed. You should too.   

     If you’re current self and your 17 year old self met, what do you think would happen? Me? My younger counterpart would slap the very taste out of my mouth for being like this.

     A couple of days ago, I chanced upon all of my old pictures, and I’m sure this happens to everyone at some point or another, but I really feel like I was looking at this stranger who for some strange reason I desperately want to be. What’s sad about that fact is that at the back of my recently shaven head, I know I can’t be that person. It’s like as the months have progressed, that person has died piece by piece and not there’s nothing left, and the thought of resuscitation just becomes sillier and sillier the more I think about it.

      There’s something incredibly screwed up in the universe these days and I can’t even figure out what. I left MTV because I wanted to do something that had meaning. (Not a knock on the MTV people of course, but media production isn’t really going to change the world, right? They keep insisting that it’s a powerful tool to help others, but come on, who are we kidding?) Anod now, exectly the same time as last year, I’m call center-bound. Imagine that. No, I don’t have a problem being a phone monkey, some of the best times I’ve had in recent memory has been as one or with ones. But then again, this kinda defeats the entire purpose of me leaving MTV in the first place, right?

      Kid Rock once sang, "money, money, money aint shit to me, but I gotta make a lot, just to be free". Debts need paying, and life these days doesn’t need much living. Who knows, this could be a pretty interesting time of my life. I’m 23, if I’m lucky I’ll die in 2 years. Who needs a purpose?