So if you would have told me when I was 7 that I would have no clue what I wanted to do when I "grew up" I would have literally scoffed at you...that's right...a full-fledged scoff. Well scoff away past-David because I have no clue what I want to do, but I'm pretty sure it has nothing to do with broadcasting.
Early, early mornings on weekends put me in bed around 8 starting Wednesday night, which does wonders for my social life. Now I realize the concept of working your way up in the industry but this job is just a transitional, get-experience-under-your-belt type of job rather than a pursuit of a career. So where's the point that it becomes worth it to just say, "ef it!" I'd rather be miserable at work and have my nights and weekends free to pursue my social life than be miserable at work and not have my nights and weekends free to pursue my social life?
So as of 5:18am on Thursday, May 6, 2010...my plan is to (drumrole...drumrole)...I have no idea!
Gotcha!
But really I think if I'm still doing this stupid shift in 6 months, am addicted to over-the-counter pain-reliever pills with a PM attached to the end and am in serious need of a new kidney but still don't have health insurance ... I think I'll become a teacher. Hey good benefits and summers off right?!?
At the risk of sounding like I'm complaining too much I'll say that I do like being on the up-and-up of what's going on in the world and in the Arklatex...that last one was kind of a joke...and I do like dreaming about being part of the face-change of local news.
But the hours are bad and the pay is low, two major major cons against this lovely industry, but every once in a while something will happen that makes it all seem worth it.
the other day we had a meeting for work in which we discussed revolutionizing the news industry and my mind started racing. I got legitimately excited about the things I could do to change the industry but then got a crash of reality as I realized that my position as a weekend morning producer wouldn't allow me to creatively produce the content that I dream of producing. I really do think I would like this job if it didn't start at 3 in the morning on weekends and completely ruin any chance I had of spending some quality time with my buddies and lovely girl friend, but I am filling a need so I guess the lesson here is suck it up and take it like a man David.
So during my time writing this I have come to the conclusion that I'll do this as long as I can take it and if I really start to see my life and general mood suffer then I'll make sure my priorities are right. If everything seems to be in line but I still hate everything...then maybe it'll be time for a change. But for now let's just take things as they come and maybe I can figure out a way to sleep and have a social life, not one or the other.
In close if I ever saw my 7-year-old self scoffing at me I would politely punch him in the face and tell myself to get ready to face reality cause it's truly a bitch.
Thursday, May 6, 2010
Tuesday, April 6, 2010
The Green Machine
So in an effort to become more environmentally conscious I've decided to start riding my bike to work. A 3 mile ride in the cool morning air ought to do me some good right?...right? Well what I planned on being a nice and easy ride to work turned out to not be so nice and easy. While the morning air is relatively cool, I still worked up a pretty good sweat while I was huffing and puffing my way down the back streets. What is usually a 5 minute drive has become a 15 minute bike ride, which actually does seem to make a difference in my sleep schedule. It also puts a huge hindrance on my lunch break, not really allowing for 30 extra minutes to ride home and back, I either have to pack my lunch in the mornings or else eat somewhere around where I work, an option I realized today I can't really afford. So there are some main disadvantages to hoping on the trusty steed and pedaling my out of shape self to the news station, but there are definitely some good points. For one thing I guess I'm saving money. While it's true that my car doesn't use that much gas in the 3 miles to work, it still feels like I'm joining the fight to make a difference. And I also get in some much-needed cardio before and after I sit at a desk all day. So that's my start to bettering our planet.
Friday, April 2, 2010
Oh the way things turn out
So we'll skip all the it's been so long, and I've been so busy lately stuff and just say hello.
As I jump into this game of trying to impress people at my new job with fresh ideas and a drive to succeed I've begun thinking is this industry really worth all that I'll need to put into it. Yea it's a job which, trust me, I am thankful for, but is it worth the stress and the emotional pain and frustration that it's probably going to bring. I say this having just finished my first week up here and people apparently love it here. But they all seem to have this passion and drive for the news, something which I lack. I would love to change it in a way that makes it more appealing and web-based rather than just depressing stories watched on a less-than-clear broadcast. But this job guarantees good experience and a day that promises to never be the same from day-to-day. Well the work will be the same but the topics and issues won't be. I'll hopefully get the chance to write and already have a little bit, but right now it's just tuning out radio scanners the noise of the newsroom. I've still got my dreams but those are on hold right now as I try to get some experience under my belt so one day I might can pursue those dreams. So for now I'll deal with the undetermined schedule and potentially horrible hours and pretend that my dream is to be an investigative reporter. I'll build some furniture, my new hobby, and move out of my parents' house in a month. So wish me luck...
As I jump into this game of trying to impress people at my new job with fresh ideas and a drive to succeed I've begun thinking is this industry really worth all that I'll need to put into it. Yea it's a job which, trust me, I am thankful for, but is it worth the stress and the emotional pain and frustration that it's probably going to bring. I say this having just finished my first week up here and people apparently love it here. But they all seem to have this passion and drive for the news, something which I lack. I would love to change it in a way that makes it more appealing and web-based rather than just depressing stories watched on a less-than-clear broadcast. But this job guarantees good experience and a day that promises to never be the same from day-to-day. Well the work will be the same but the topics and issues won't be. I'll hopefully get the chance to write and already have a little bit, but right now it's just tuning out radio scanners the noise of the newsroom. I've still got my dreams but those are on hold right now as I try to get some experience under my belt so one day I might can pursue those dreams. So for now I'll deal with the undetermined schedule and potentially horrible hours and pretend that my dream is to be an investigative reporter. I'll build some furniture, my new hobby, and move out of my parents' house in a month. So wish me luck...
Tuesday, January 19, 2010
Hey look over there!
I think like everyone else in the entire world it is easy to let distractions distract ones self from the task at hand and consume one's time and thoughts, hence the definition being: a thing that prevents one from giving full attention to something else. But in my state of job-hunting and slowly watching my meager bank account deplete even more, these distractions are almost a bliss to me, my own escape into something undaunting and just plain unimportant. Especially in a time where every decision seems life or death, every action must be judged, and every minute is priceless, it is my glimpse of heaven when I let my mind wander and escape into something so consuming. A good, thorough distraction is sometimes hard to come by though. These days its starting to become harder and harder to completely loose sight of the thought of potential failure that seems to have its jaws locked around the hem of my slacks. It used to be easier to ignore because it started as a small dog, something of the toy variety and has since grown into something like a terrier. I can feel it starting to achieve pit bullish status and I can honestly say I am a little bit afraid. But I guess putting your hope into something so fleeting and flimsy is never a good idea. So focus is going to be my key word today, this week, this month, and this year. Focus on the task at hand, not a distraction. And when I feel these distractions coming on I'll just show them the ferocious rottweiler that will soon be growling at my ankles and it'll turn tail and run.
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
Oh no it's the cops!
“Oh no it’s the cops”
There was something there that shouldn’t have been. Through the bordering-on-ridiculously loud chords and notes ripped apart by distortion, the clash of wood on thin metal cymbals and various other too-loud sounds produced by the drum set, and the gentle “puuvvhhfff” of the base something was cutting through that didn’t fit. It was a chore getting the band to quit playing, complete silence was avoided as much as possible for some inexplicable reason, but once the “music” stopped the oddity rang loud and clear.
It sounded a lot like an angry goose. “What is that?” I asked as I walked towards the window. Before I could finagle myself to the window between the amplifiers, cords, and cases to look outside and find the answer to my question, the cyclical flash of blue and red filled the curtains. “Guys it’s the freaking police.” I said disappointedly as my heart began to race. To understand my reaction, you must understand that I was probably the most timid kid that ever lived. I avoided trouble as much as possible by being as good and well mannered as I could. This has gotten better through out the years but I still hadn’t had an encounter like this with the strong arm of the law before.
Of course I was elected to go outside…I mean why wouldn’t I be elected, I was the only one not holding anything so it’s perfectly natural that I charge bravely into the unknown? As my heart tried unsuccessfully to leap out of my chest, I slowly opened the door and fearlessly, and by fearlessly I mean not fearlessly at all , stepped into the cool night air. I was immediately blinded by the 10 billion watt power of a Q-beam, and was forced to shield my eyes before they melted. As I tried to avoid the gigantic glowing green monster consuming my vision I desperately followed the voice of the officer and stumbled over to the car. You’re probably wondering why he was still shining his freaking light in my eyes, I was wondering the same thing?
“Come here boy.” He said, country just dripping off his tongue. “Yes sir.” I said politely, my strategy was this…be polite and he’ll go away with out shooting me. “I’ve been out here for 20 minutes honking my horn waiting for y’all to come out. I’ve had neighbors calling in for hours complaining about all the racket y’all are making, and if I have to come out here again I’m going to arrest all of y’all and take y’all down to the station. Understand?” First let’s address the problems with his story…
For starters we had just started the song literally a minute before we stopped so there is no way he was there for 20 minutes, second if he was there I think an exposed, angry-goose horn is louder and more annoying than music muted by thick wooden walls of the cabin we practiced in. And third, why didn’t he lug his lumbering mass out of his car and knock on the door? I mean…who just sits outside and honks for 20 minutes straight? Lastly…how was he going to arrest all 6 of us and take us to the station in one car? He’d have to make at least two trips, and like we would really just sit there waiting for him to come back.
During this get-to-know-you-time I’d had with the Officer of the law, two of my brave and courageous band mates, and by brave a courageous I mean not brave and courageous , opened the door timidly and shuffled over to the car. At this point I would love to go on to tell you I lost my temper and told the cop he was full of it if he thought I believed his crap about sitting outside for 20 minutes and to step out of the car and just try to arrest us. But alas I didn’t do that. I also didn’t attack his behemoth form when he lumbered out of the car, disarm him after giving him a nasty rap on the chin, steal his car and get the heck out of dodge. I haven’t been on the run from the law living the mysterious and sexy life of a fugitive for the past 4 years, and I haven’t had to lie, cheat and steal to survive. I didn’t do any of those things for three reasons, which I will promptly list for you…
Reason number 1, He never got out of his car. Since the incident I have convinced myself that he would have if the effort of pulling and forcing his obese form out of the seat would have left him exhausted and therefore utterly defenseless from any attack I might throw his way and he didn’t want to risk it.
Reason number 2, I had not yet seen any of the Prison Break seasons so I didn’t have as good of a grasp on how to survive as a fugitive from the law and break out of jail if the need arose.
Reason number 3, I am terrified of police and getting into trouble and therefore would have been shaking too bad to do anything but comply to his every command had he actually gotten out of the car to arrest us.
So while none of the exciting, movie-like action was happening we listened a little more to him power-tripping on us. Then he drove away and we slunk back to the cabin. “I hate you all.” I said as I grabbed my cell phone and walked back outside to the car while everyone packed up their equipment. The Man had shut us down and you never know…had we gotten a chance to finish practicing that night we might have just written the greatest song of our generation, it’s doubtful but if I utterly fail in life and have no one else to blame but myself I’ll always have that cop for shutting a big jail-cell door on my future. We continued to practice out there and never one got the cops called on us, until the owners decided they didn’t want us using it anymore. So we had to get all our stuff out, clean the place, break one window, fix it and say goodbye to our muse. I can’t blame the pigs for that one, and that’s a whole nother story, but I will say thanks for not arresting me, you never know how that might have gone down.
There was something there that shouldn’t have been. Through the bordering-on-ridiculously loud chords and notes ripped apart by distortion, the clash of wood on thin metal cymbals and various other too-loud sounds produced by the drum set, and the gentle “puuvvhhfff” of the base something was cutting through that didn’t fit. It was a chore getting the band to quit playing, complete silence was avoided as much as possible for some inexplicable reason, but once the “music” stopped the oddity rang loud and clear.
It sounded a lot like an angry goose. “What is that?” I asked as I walked towards the window. Before I could finagle myself to the window between the amplifiers, cords, and cases to look outside and find the answer to my question, the cyclical flash of blue and red filled the curtains. “Guys it’s the freaking police.” I said disappointedly as my heart began to race. To understand my reaction, you must understand that I was probably the most timid kid that ever lived. I avoided trouble as much as possible by being as good and well mannered as I could. This has gotten better through out the years but I still hadn’t had an encounter like this with the strong arm of the law before.
Of course I was elected to go outside…I mean why wouldn’t I be elected, I was the only one not holding anything so it’s perfectly natural that I charge bravely into the unknown? As my heart tried unsuccessfully to leap out of my chest, I slowly opened the door and fearlessly, and by fearlessly I mean not fearlessly at all , stepped into the cool night air. I was immediately blinded by the 10 billion watt power of a Q-beam, and was forced to shield my eyes before they melted. As I tried to avoid the gigantic glowing green monster consuming my vision I desperately followed the voice of the officer and stumbled over to the car. You’re probably wondering why he was still shining his freaking light in my eyes, I was wondering the same thing?
“Come here boy.” He said, country just dripping off his tongue. “Yes sir.” I said politely, my strategy was this…be polite and he’ll go away with out shooting me. “I’ve been out here for 20 minutes honking my horn waiting for y’all to come out. I’ve had neighbors calling in for hours complaining about all the racket y’all are making, and if I have to come out here again I’m going to arrest all of y’all and take y’all down to the station. Understand?” First let’s address the problems with his story…
For starters we had just started the song literally a minute before we stopped so there is no way he was there for 20 minutes, second if he was there I think an exposed, angry-goose horn is louder and more annoying than music muted by thick wooden walls of the cabin we practiced in. And third, why didn’t he lug his lumbering mass out of his car and knock on the door? I mean…who just sits outside and honks for 20 minutes straight? Lastly…how was he going to arrest all 6 of us and take us to the station in one car? He’d have to make at least two trips, and like we would really just sit there waiting for him to come back.
During this get-to-know-you-time I’d had with the Officer of the law, two of my brave and courageous band mates, and by brave a courageous I mean not brave and courageous , opened the door timidly and shuffled over to the car. At this point I would love to go on to tell you I lost my temper and told the cop he was full of it if he thought I believed his crap about sitting outside for 20 minutes and to step out of the car and just try to arrest us. But alas I didn’t do that. I also didn’t attack his behemoth form when he lumbered out of the car, disarm him after giving him a nasty rap on the chin, steal his car and get the heck out of dodge. I haven’t been on the run from the law living the mysterious and sexy life of a fugitive for the past 4 years, and I haven’t had to lie, cheat and steal to survive. I didn’t do any of those things for three reasons, which I will promptly list for you…
Reason number 1, He never got out of his car. Since the incident I have convinced myself that he would have if the effort of pulling and forcing his obese form out of the seat would have left him exhausted and therefore utterly defenseless from any attack I might throw his way and he didn’t want to risk it.
Reason number 2, I had not yet seen any of the Prison Break seasons so I didn’t have as good of a grasp on how to survive as a fugitive from the law and break out of jail if the need arose.
Reason number 3, I am terrified of police and getting into trouble and therefore would have been shaking too bad to do anything but comply to his every command had he actually gotten out of the car to arrest us.
So while none of the exciting, movie-like action was happening we listened a little more to him power-tripping on us. Then he drove away and we slunk back to the cabin. “I hate you all.” I said as I grabbed my cell phone and walked back outside to the car while everyone packed up their equipment. The Man had shut us down and you never know…had we gotten a chance to finish practicing that night we might have just written the greatest song of our generation, it’s doubtful but if I utterly fail in life and have no one else to blame but myself I’ll always have that cop for shutting a big jail-cell door on my future. We continued to practice out there and never one got the cops called on us, until the owners decided they didn’t want us using it anymore. So we had to get all our stuff out, clean the place, break one window, fix it and say goodbye to our muse. I can’t blame the pigs for that one, and that’s a whole nother story, but I will say thanks for not arresting me, you never know how that might have gone down.
Monday, November 16, 2009
Table settings and marriage
Today I decided was a good day to take my break at Chipotle, the I guess you could call it a short order burrito place. I had some cash burning a hole in my wallet and I was afraid if I left it in there too long my usually empty wallet would start to reject it. So I drove across the street, it was really cold...freezing even, and unknowingly stepped into a situation that would not only renew my faith in humanity as a whole, but also in love.
You're probably thinking, Dave...come on that's a big renewal to have at a place like Chipotle, I mean you have to be at like a coffee shop or some organic eatery to have a realization like that. I say fie on you! One of my realizations this evening was that something extraordinary can seem so deceptively simple that we often overlook it. But tonight I caught it like a fly zipping past my face.
The situation...I had been eating my steak burrito by my lonesome doing the simple math problems in my head that the mother was pressing on her daughter at the table next to me while I stared between my burrito and the world beyond the window. Nothing eventful there. Occasionally I'd glance at the table of high-schoolers and not think much about them. My mind was kind of tired from the moral dilemma that had been plaguing me since my boss chewed me out but that's an entire different issue that needs more time for reflection before I start spewing my thoughts out. So as I finish the last few bites of my delicious meal I sigh deeply knowing that my pathetic minimum wage job that I tell myself everyday to be thankful for is calling me back. I stand up and ditch my waste in the appropriate receptacle and leave my plastic basket in the designated area. As I turn to walk towards the door I notice the old man sitting at the booth on the other side of me walk to the drink station. I glance at his table before promptly double-taking back to it.
I notice something immediately...it's set for two. This whole time I had thought the man was alone because I hadn't seen anyone with him yet. Nothing too life-changing there, then I realized the same thing but in a different way...the table was SET for two. To fully comprehend this statement you must realize that Chipotle didn't have place mats or even silver wear. I don't think you can call it fast food but the utensils and napkins worked the same way, they didn't come on the table. This gentleman had unfolded and laid out two napkins like place mats on either side of the table, and had put a knife and a fork in their respective places with a bottle of green Tabasco sauce between them. I watched him walk over to his equally advanced in years wife and help her get them drinks. Then I promptly took a picture of the table on my phone and wanted to shake that man's hand. I didn't of course but in my heart I saluted him.
My realization through all this was as follows. This man loves his wife enough to even set the table for them at a "restaurant." This might be completely normal for them which makes it that much more special to me. In a world of divorce and pain this guy loves his wife probably because he has for longer than he can remember. Now I don't know this gentleman but I know he did something special for his wife because he found her worth the effort and has probably found her worth the effort for a lifetime. Basically it was the sweetest thing I've seen a guy do for a girl in a while. It was refreshing because the guys I'm around at work treat girls and women more like something to be used rather than cherished. This man unknowingly refreshed my hope in my own abilities to cherish the ones I love for as long as I live. So kudos guy for giving me that glimmer of hope I'd been looking for. Keep setting that table and I'll start setting mine. If I ever see you again I will shake your hand...I promise.
You're probably thinking, Dave...come on that's a big renewal to have at a place like Chipotle, I mean you have to be at like a coffee shop or some organic eatery to have a realization like that. I say fie on you! One of my realizations this evening was that something extraordinary can seem so deceptively simple that we often overlook it. But tonight I caught it like a fly zipping past my face.
The situation...I had been eating my steak burrito by my lonesome doing the simple math problems in my head that the mother was pressing on her daughter at the table next to me while I stared between my burrito and the world beyond the window. Nothing eventful there. Occasionally I'd glance at the table of high-schoolers and not think much about them. My mind was kind of tired from the moral dilemma that had been plaguing me since my boss chewed me out but that's an entire different issue that needs more time for reflection before I start spewing my thoughts out. So as I finish the last few bites of my delicious meal I sigh deeply knowing that my pathetic minimum wage job that I tell myself everyday to be thankful for is calling me back. I stand up and ditch my waste in the appropriate receptacle and leave my plastic basket in the designated area. As I turn to walk towards the door I notice the old man sitting at the booth on the other side of me walk to the drink station. I glance at his table before promptly double-taking back to it.
I notice something immediately...it's set for two. This whole time I had thought the man was alone because I hadn't seen anyone with him yet. Nothing too life-changing there, then I realized the same thing but in a different way...the table was SET for two. To fully comprehend this statement you must realize that Chipotle didn't have place mats or even silver wear. I don't think you can call it fast food but the utensils and napkins worked the same way, they didn't come on the table. This gentleman had unfolded and laid out two napkins like place mats on either side of the table, and had put a knife and a fork in their respective places with a bottle of green Tabasco sauce between them. I watched him walk over to his equally advanced in years wife and help her get them drinks. Then I promptly took a picture of the table on my phone and wanted to shake that man's hand. I didn't of course but in my heart I saluted him.
My realization through all this was as follows. This man loves his wife enough to even set the table for them at a "restaurant." This might be completely normal for them which makes it that much more special to me. In a world of divorce and pain this guy loves his wife probably because he has for longer than he can remember. Now I don't know this gentleman but I know he did something special for his wife because he found her worth the effort and has probably found her worth the effort for a lifetime. Basically it was the sweetest thing I've seen a guy do for a girl in a while. It was refreshing because the guys I'm around at work treat girls and women more like something to be used rather than cherished. This man unknowingly refreshed my hope in my own abilities to cherish the ones I love for as long as I live. So kudos guy for giving me that glimmer of hope I'd been looking for. Keep setting that table and I'll start setting mine. If I ever see you again I will shake your hand...I promise.
Thursday, November 12, 2009
I've Come For Blood, Pt. 1, Are you kidding me?!?
This marks the beginning of what will hopefully be a long-lived commentary on my existence as a college graduate. One day I will hopefully be able to publish a book of essays called I've Come For Blood: A commentary on life by David Awalt. So without further adue...I humbly present Pt. 1, Are you kidding me?!?...
Geronimo!!! I feel kind of like I got robbed; robbed of my inalienable right to utter some sort of guttural yell as I charge headlong into something knew and unknown. I wish the transition to adulthood and the real world would have been more sudden then maybe I could have found the chance to achieve this vocal fantasy, but instead it was drawn out and a bit tiresome. It wasn't the go to bed a child and wake up an adult type of experience I'd always dreamed it would be.
I can remember the day I really set my heart to get out of my safe and secure college town, which was well within the shield of my parents' protective umbrella. I can remember the day I told my parents I just couldn't do school anymore that I needed to go out and live a little. I can remember the day I broke the news to my friends. And I can remember the day I actually moved. The day I officially set out on my own to see where life would take me. The only problem was it just wasn't as romantic and dramatic a transition as I thought it was going to be. In reality it was rather drawn out with all the breaking of news and hugs and goodbyes and talks about what I was going to do and everything else that goes along with leaving your home away from home for the past four years.
I say all that to make a point, life doesn't always go the way you expect it to and even want it to. I mean I still charged headlong into a new and potentially failing experience but I did it at a walk. I put my metaphorical fingers up to my head like bull horns, pawed the ground with my foot, lowered my head and slowly walked forward into the unknown.
For me this meant about a solid month of slowly watching your little bit of savings go away, then your credit card bill go up. A solid month of sitting in from of a computer at your house filling out job applications and slowly letting the depression creep in on you. A few times I found the courage to get my vitamin D starved self out of the house and to a local coffee shop to continue my search. I watched my dream bubbles of being an influential writer / contributer to some publication burst. Then my dreams of writing for anyone at all burst. Then the fear that my proverbial paddle might be smaller than I thought and even, dare I say it...unusable when I found myself up a creek.
Then all the fear rushed away as I found a job. It wasn't a writing job, it wasn't influential or bettering the world in any way, but it was a job. I was a "sales associate" at a electronics store chain and I made minimum wage + "commission." I had a college degree and I'd been forced to settle for this job. But that isn't the issue here...no the real issue is something that happened one night when I was cleaning the windows. A coworker and I were outside the store when a guy on a skateboard rolled up haughtily with an acoustic guitar on his shoulder like an axe. He proceeded to ask if either one of us had a cigarette, which we didn't. So instead of leaving he asked if the guy working inside had one and then a drawn out tale of why he didn't have one and why he needed one. Apparently the raspy, tar-influenced voice is desired by some people. I proceeded to ask him where he was playing and he promptly told me. Normal enough right? Well the kicker is I told him I didn't know where that was and he with a single sentence ruined my faith in struggling musicians. He said he was glad I didn't know cause he didn't want me coming there and ruining the vibe of the place...
Are you kidding me?!?
That is the single most pretentious thing someone has said to me in a long time. I mean I'm all about vibes but what about me in my work uniform gives this the right to assume so much about me. I won't go into what I replied with but it wasn't polite, fortunately I think my sarcasm didn't hit a nerve with Mr. Pretentious and he kept making stupid jokes and being unwanted. When I finally skated off I was still just fuming. I told a few people about the incident and complained about the nerve of some people and then I had an epiphany. I was just like Mr. Pretentious there right when I moved. I was so worried about my cool new city and life experience "vibe" being ruined that I immediately passed judgment on some things I didn't even know anything about. But mainly I tried at first to forget about my past experiences and where I'd come from and been through in an effort to preserve this new "vibe." Thanks to some wonderful people though I didn't make it as far along the road marked douche as Mr. Pretentious, but I was definitely on my way. So with all that in mind I can finally throw back my head and yell at what's to come and warn it that I'm coming with an open mind and a good grasp at where I've come from. GERONIMO!!!
Geronimo!!! I feel kind of like I got robbed; robbed of my inalienable right to utter some sort of guttural yell as I charge headlong into something knew and unknown. I wish the transition to adulthood and the real world would have been more sudden then maybe I could have found the chance to achieve this vocal fantasy, but instead it was drawn out and a bit tiresome. It wasn't the go to bed a child and wake up an adult type of experience I'd always dreamed it would be.
I can remember the day I really set my heart to get out of my safe and secure college town, which was well within the shield of my parents' protective umbrella. I can remember the day I told my parents I just couldn't do school anymore that I needed to go out and live a little. I can remember the day I broke the news to my friends. And I can remember the day I actually moved. The day I officially set out on my own to see where life would take me. The only problem was it just wasn't as romantic and dramatic a transition as I thought it was going to be. In reality it was rather drawn out with all the breaking of news and hugs and goodbyes and talks about what I was going to do and everything else that goes along with leaving your home away from home for the past four years.
I say all that to make a point, life doesn't always go the way you expect it to and even want it to. I mean I still charged headlong into a new and potentially failing experience but I did it at a walk. I put my metaphorical fingers up to my head like bull horns, pawed the ground with my foot, lowered my head and slowly walked forward into the unknown.
For me this meant about a solid month of slowly watching your little bit of savings go away, then your credit card bill go up. A solid month of sitting in from of a computer at your house filling out job applications and slowly letting the depression creep in on you. A few times I found the courage to get my vitamin D starved self out of the house and to a local coffee shop to continue my search. I watched my dream bubbles of being an influential writer / contributer to some publication burst. Then my dreams of writing for anyone at all burst. Then the fear that my proverbial paddle might be smaller than I thought and even, dare I say it...unusable when I found myself up a creek.
Then all the fear rushed away as I found a job. It wasn't a writing job, it wasn't influential or bettering the world in any way, but it was a job. I was a "sales associate" at a electronics store chain and I made minimum wage + "commission." I had a college degree and I'd been forced to settle for this job. But that isn't the issue here...no the real issue is something that happened one night when I was cleaning the windows. A coworker and I were outside the store when a guy on a skateboard rolled up haughtily with an acoustic guitar on his shoulder like an axe. He proceeded to ask if either one of us had a cigarette, which we didn't. So instead of leaving he asked if the guy working inside had one and then a drawn out tale of why he didn't have one and why he needed one. Apparently the raspy, tar-influenced voice is desired by some people. I proceeded to ask him where he was playing and he promptly told me. Normal enough right? Well the kicker is I told him I didn't know where that was and he with a single sentence ruined my faith in struggling musicians. He said he was glad I didn't know cause he didn't want me coming there and ruining the vibe of the place...
Are you kidding me?!?
That is the single most pretentious thing someone has said to me in a long time. I mean I'm all about vibes but what about me in my work uniform gives this the right to assume so much about me. I won't go into what I replied with but it wasn't polite, fortunately I think my sarcasm didn't hit a nerve with Mr. Pretentious and he kept making stupid jokes and being unwanted. When I finally skated off I was still just fuming. I told a few people about the incident and complained about the nerve of some people and then I had an epiphany. I was just like Mr. Pretentious there right when I moved. I was so worried about my cool new city and life experience "vibe" being ruined that I immediately passed judgment on some things I didn't even know anything about. But mainly I tried at first to forget about my past experiences and where I'd come from and been through in an effort to preserve this new "vibe." Thanks to some wonderful people though I didn't make it as far along the road marked douche as Mr. Pretentious, but I was definitely on my way. So with all that in mind I can finally throw back my head and yell at what's to come and warn it that I'm coming with an open mind and a good grasp at where I've come from. GERONIMO!!!
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