Internet Pet Peeves

It's no secret that I have a million pet peeves and find that I have new one just about everyday.  I blame it all on the internet.

Prior to the internet, my pet peeves were limited and similar to everyone elses pet peeves:  bad drivers, people who eat too loud, women who fart, cats, people who LOVE cats too much, cats that meow for no reason, lazy eyes, fanny packs, ugly feet, and jean shorts. 

Because of the internet, that list is now endless.  I can't really help that I am so judgmental.  Sure, I try but then it never fails, some internet person invents a new way to annoy me.  Take for instance, the recent death of a friend's uncle.  Within minutes of his death announcement, some relative posted some unnerving picture of the dead uncles head floating around in heaven with Jesus standing there with open arms.  After unfortunately being witness to this "artistic" attempt at comforting the dead uncle's friends and family, I realized that a lot of funeral programs are adorned with dead floating heads.   I now picture heaven just being a bunch of floating heads thanks to this strange way to honor someone who just died. 


(to conceal my friends dead uncle's identity, i cleverly added the hat and facial hair)

Really, I think what annoys me most, specifically on social networks, are the statuses people post.  The level of self-absorption is rather fascinating.  Take for instance, if somebody didn't pay their internet bill and it's about to be shut off.  It never fails we can expect that person to announce to all of us they will be absent for a few days.  Do people really think we notice when they are gone?  This belief that we are super important to everyone on our friends list enough to tell them we will be without internet for a few days or what we ate for dinner or anything else that involves needless information intrigues me as an observer of people and annoys me as a judgmental person. 

The other status type that bugs me are the ones where people talk to dead people.  "Mom, you died 12 years ago today.  I miss you".  Let's not pretend those types of statuses are posted to honor the dead mom.  They are self-serving.  It's a "hey everyone, I need a hug and I am super sad today" kind of post.  There isn't anything wrong wanting comfort or attention from your online friends, I suppose but let's not pretend those statuses are about the dead people.  They aren't. 

And speaking of talking to people who can't or won't read your statuses, another pet peeve of mine are those people who talk to celebrities on their own page.  Just the other day, I watched somebody wish David Cassidy a happy birthday.  Sorry to break it to you, woman with bad taste in celebrity crushes, but Mr. Cassidy will never see your post. 

I don't even really understand what this woman was trying to accomplish.  Since David Cassidy will never see her "artistic" happy birthday Cassidy cake birthday card, is she just bragging that she loves this mediocre celebrity or does she really LOVE him?  I can't come to a logical conclusion.

My list of pet peeves is long and grows longer by the day.  It's really my issue. 

Now, I'm off to the doctor for a colonoscopy and probably won't be back online for a few hours.  Probably some time between the hamburger helper I am having for dinner and getting my mail.

Happy Birthday, Martin Lawence (in case you're reading this).

Untold Stories

Everything happens exactly as it should.

I'm not sure if I believed that the first time I heard it.  I do now.

Big bangs and denim skirts.  I guess it doesn't matter that I saw her first.  Maybe, I'm homesick or agoraphobic.  What was a lifetime ago still sometimes hurts.

I had big ideas and even bigger dreams.  I was probably a little arrogant for my own good.  I used to blame it on the nurses who would pinch my cheeks and warn me of some future army of women that would be tearing down my door.  Later on, I blamed it on those random old women standing in line behind me at the grocery store who couldn't help but mention my long eyelashes. 

When you start believing your own greatness, it becomes the death of your creativity. 

I always try to balance my healthy ego with some self-deprecation.  And usually when I am leaning on my healthy ego; saying things like I am better than most or You're lucky to have me, I am usually lying.  An ego is only as healthy as the reality that shields it. 

I wanted to ask her if she's ever felt empty.  If the burden of perfection becomes too heavy.  If the one that got away came swimming after me, I'd have no choice but to abandon the sea. 

I think we get one chance to get it right.  And no matter the outcome, we always do get it right.  It goes back to that saying that everything happens just as it should. 

Guilt is like a bag of fucking bricks.  All you gotta do is set it down.  And when I hear that, I can only think, its easier said than done.  I came to the conclusion that guilt is a remarkable tool.  It's narcissism disguised as empathy or maybe vice versa.  I say that because feeling guilty about something is just a way of second guessing an outcome we weren't expecting.  Who are we to question such outcomes or God or destiny or the universe? 

I used to get really angry at my old dog.  Like when he barked for no reason or when he became super excited at the sound of my car keys.  I'd yell at him; sometimes, smack him on the nose.  And he would just look at me with forgiveness in his eyes.  When he died, I realized that there is nothing more merciful than a dog.  They are kind creatures.  Kindness is not something I've ever attributed to an animal but it's befitting of a dog. 

His demands were simple:  food, a home and a little love.  In return, he promised me forgiveness for all my past, present and future misguided frustration.  One time, I took him outside to go the bathroom.  He ran off.  I spent 6 hours looking for him in our maze-like condo complex.  I was screaming his name; frantically asking neighbors if they had seen a black lab running loose.  I thought I had lost him forever. 

After a long search that involved walking, driving, running, screaming and panicking, I found him.  He was passed out under a tree.  He was exhausted from his little adventure.   I didn't know if I should yell at him or just hug him.  I chose both. 

When we got back into our home, as I was seething with anger yet overcome with gratitude, he just slept.  He looked so peaceful.  When he finally awoke hours later, I asked him if he got homesick.  And he licked my hand. 


I've got so many stories I will never get to share with her and I am sure she's got plenty more than me.  I guess some people come into our life for brief periods of time.  And I suppose, most details are lost but certain aspects of that person are never forgotten... Like how she made you feel.  Or her denim skirts. 

I've got a lot of gratitude for so many people.  I used to focus on my guilt or my anger for my perceived short comings.  And I used to think my choices, my inaction and my lack of foresight ruined what should have been a better story.  I know now that everything happens exactly as it should. 

Obnoxious Internet People

I've come to the conclusion that the three most obnoxious groups of internet people in the world are atheists, vegans and people who don't watch TV. 

Generally speaking, the atheists are the people who cannot speak on the internet or mention in some random conversation how more enlightened they are compared to the rest of us.  In defense of the atheists, I think the reason they militantly brag about not believing in God or arrogantly belittle those who believe in a creator is because rather than trying to convince us there is no God, they are desperately attempting to convince themselves they are right.  I suppose if you repeat something long enough, eventually, you will believe your own nihilistic rhetoric despite that innate need we all have to seek God.  I suppose this level of cognitive dissonance leads to frustration and anger.  And how do angry and frustrated people usually react?  The answer... next time you come across an internet atheist, pay attention to him or her. 

Once upon a time, internet atheists pissed me off more than any other group of internet people; the reasons being twofold:  One, they wear their atheism like it's some badge of courage.  As if  not believing in something makes them more enlightened and wiser than those of us who, by faith, believe there is a deeper meaning to life.  And secondly, atheists will never miss an opportunity to insult a believer.  And let's be really honest here, if you're gonna deny God exists, you have to deny the devil exists.  And if you are going to deny any spiritual dimension existing, then you are going to have dismiss ghosts, the paranormal and the millions of eye witness accounts throughout history of angels, ghosts, demons and anything spiritual.   For me, denying the existence of God is not just some simple theoretical concept like realizing there is no Santa Clause.  It would be more like denying there is no Christmas, no December 25th, no Christmas carols or movies, no goodwill... not believing in God is the dismissing of everything good, every mystery and everything scientists, scholars and historians debate to this day.  Atheism is not a mission statement.  It is a long winded essay with a flawed hypothesis that truth must equate to logic

Internet atheists still irritate me but to a lesser degree than the internet vegans.  Certainly, they are as arrogant as the internet atheists but they, generally speaking, are more inclined to be self-righteous.  If you eat meat, you rape cows.  The blood of cows, chickens and pigs are on our hands if we don't stick to a strict plant based diet.  Every argument with them is based on extreme images of violence and some grandiose world view that animals are just people with fur. 

The group of internet people that annoy me more than any other group of people are those who strut around the internet like a peacock mentioning they don't watch TV.  .Nothing is more pretentious than telling people you avoid television.  Not watching TV does not make you more intelligent or more cultured than the vast majority of people who do watch it.

Contrary to the opinions of non viewers of TV, I believe television plays an important part in our lives.... in moderation.  Some of my best memories involve television shows and movies.  Who doesn't remember how they felt watching the finales of such shows like MASH or Cheers or Lost?  Who can't name every Brady family member?  Who hasn't punched a jukebox like Fonzi?  Who, in high school or college, didn't have a specific night of the week where we gathered with friends to watch a television show together?  For me, it was Wednesday nights watching 90210 with my friends.  As ridiculous as that show was, it was also something that bonded our little circle.  What older adult didn't go to bed with Johnny Carson being the last words they heard before falling asleep with a smile on their face after a long day?  Who didn't watch Little House on the Prairie and long for simpler times but then realize the Ingals had no television and watching them was much better than being them? 

Television improves social skills.  Even Rain Man found solace in Judge Wapner.  Television has the power to bring relationships closer.  Find a girl that passionately loves the same TV shows you passionately love and odds are, she is yours forever. 

Television can teach tolerance and show people in a different light than our perceived notions of those same people..  In the early 90's, MTV had a gay roommate on Real World named Pedro.  This was before being gay was cool.  This was during a time "fag" wasn't deemed offensive.  As a straight ultra conservative white guy, I watched Pedro's journey from being this gay Cuban outcast to being universally loved and fodder around the college cafeteria the morning after Real World aired.  He was just like me.  Just a regular guy who wanted to be accepted.  It was television and specifically Pedro that taught me some tolerance for those with a lifestyle I do not agree with.

Television also has taught me self-awareness.  I grew up without a dad and found myself learning how real men conduct themselves as fathers because of TV.  From Andy Griffith to Red Foreman, I learned that a good father will always have this air of toughness and willingness to protect his family while still having this ability to be vulnerable when his own family was in need of a more gentle hand. 

Television shapes lives, builds memories and can teach us lessons while showing us scenarios that may not be accessible in our every day lives.  So when some pretentious person runs around the internet proclaiming they don't watch TV, I can't help but think I am in the presence of someone so vapidly self-unaware and narcissistic that if they saw their own reflection on a turned off TV screen, they would fall in love with their own image and attempt to jump into that TV set.and end up with a concussion.   

I suppose the only thing worse on the internet than someone who proudly proclaims they don't watch TV would be if that very person was also a vegan atheist. 

Jump

Remember how it used to be...

I could jump without a parachute.  You mistook my bravado as being resolute.   My ambition went into remission long ago.  Yet, I no longer fear this altitude.  Just say Jump, you know I will.

What doesn't kill us, makes us stronger says The Optimist.  Rely on yourself says the pseudo Scientist.  This will make you feel better says the Pharmacist.  The sky is falling,  says me, the weary alarmist. 

Remember how it used to be... young and wild, so carefree.  Tomorrow was just a hypothesis.  Now, that's its here, everything is so monotonous.  Who needs a parachute when the future seems so bottomless?  Just say Jump, you know I will.


I still know the words to the songs you sang to me.  I haven't forgotten how we came to be.  I even can recite your drunk poetry.  It may have been the worst of times but in the end, they brought out the best in me.  Ask me to jump, you know I will.

You were aiming for a target we failed to see.  A beautiful landing wouldn't have been as artistic.  Maybe, in the end, we were a little cannibalistic.  But misery loves company and you were just a walking statistic.  Say what you will, I've always been empathetic and sadistic.  Tell me to jump, you know I will.

Over in the distance, she waits for me.  She's got a mane the lions would die for.  Ask her into your heart, she'll take the side door.  Back in the day, I would have given up.  Long before, I even dared to jump.  Say what you will, but don't you interrupt.  I've got a parachute and that's enough.

Remember how it used to be
Before all these worries were burning a hole in my stomach.

Tell me to jump, you know I will. 

Astronaut

Stupid kid, somebody's son.  Somebody's friend, some girl's someone.
He made me think of you.
He made me think of you.
He made me drink some, too.  Just like you.
Stupid kid, where is my mirror?  You look familiar.  It's not too clear.  You made me think of him.  You made me think of him.  He will never reappear. 
Stupid kid, I'm your crystal ball.  Look at me, don't become like me. 

Pretty girl, apple of daddy's eye.  Someone's smile will become someone's sigh. 
She made me think of you.
She made me think of you.
You're predictable.  Instinctive, too. 
Pretty girl, where is that list?  My faults, my strengths; columnized.  You make me think of her.  You make me think of her.  Here's my angst to be analyzed.  Pretty girl, I'm your mocking bird.  Hear me sing, don't sing along.

Hello, Sir.  Somebody's dad.  Somebody's question mark, my period. 
He made me think of you.
He made me think of you.
Made me hate him, too.
Hello, Sir.  May I say, your breath reeks of regret?  It's okay,  You could use some pity and some sentiment.. You make me think of him.  You make me think of him.  Hello Sir, I'm your silhouette.  Look at me, don't run from me.  You can't get away from me.

I am your routine.  An after thought.  The world revolves around you. And I am your astronaut.  I float in space and think of you.   
You make me think out loud.
You make me think out loud.
Time to disengage and come back home.

One last snapshot of somebody's son; somebody's friend.  Your astronaut.
Think of me as I float away.
Think of me as I float away.
Pretty girl, ageless face
there are no other astronauts in space.

The Elephant

Diabetic sycophant elephant in the room. When the sugar rush is no longer relevant, the malevolent turns to you.  A water to wine miracle, when the constant cravings become unbearable, what's a man to do?

come on, let me see your face, smell your hair and dig my claws in you.  Vampirical succubus with your agnostic views.  Constant cravings for angel wings wearing toxic shoes.  If the tiara truly made a queen, I'd probably wear one, too. 


Constant cravings for a father's scream; approval of the divine.  I don't think you know, don't think you care.  How do I make you mine?  The insanity of gravity as I float between space and time.  Oxygen is secondary, this creation needs a redesign.  Burn it down, rebuild again. These constant cravings are not benign. 


Cancerous host clings to me and hypochondria settles in.  She's my dream, my insomnia, my sickness and medicine.  Constant cravings for a cure of this twisted paradox is my shifting paradigm.

Come on, Savior, the elephant's in the room.  Shoot it now, Take it down, what else is a man to do?  I don't want to be the beneficiary of this ill gotten ivory but these constant cravings have taken over me. 

Reclusive sycophant, tell me what you see.  Its been way too long not long enough since she's complimented me.  Constant cravings, my adversary, continue drowning me. That sugar rush, my succubus, smiles so charmingly. 

The constant cravings of the elephant are no longer relevant when you're trampled under foot.  Come on, I can't breathe in here, believe in here;  whats a man to do?  This sycophant cannot stand to see it crushing you. 

Somebody kill the elephant standing in the room.

The Smell of Fear

I stood on that sandy surface next to the rusty old swing set on the playground of that Catholic School.  Second grade recess consisted of innocent games of kissy chase, informal weddings and a simple fascination of climbing higher and higher on that archaic swing set.

A bee once landed on the bridge of my nose during recess.  Like the brave hero I've always believed myself to be, I ran around in a circle like a dog chasing his own tail; screaming as loud as I could.  The bee just sat there;  It was as if it was taunting me; letting me know he was boss. 

Sister Daphne calmly approached me; mumbled some words of comfort and if I'm not mistaken, she said, "The power of Christ compels you".  I wasn't sure if she was talking to me or the bee.  Eventually, that little weaponized insect flew off into the distance; stinger intact.

That might have been my first experience with fear.  They say fear causes paralysis.  I have these dreams sometimes where I am being attacked and in my dread, my need to scream for help, the words won't leave my mouth.  I'm screaming but no sounds are occurring.  I suppose paralyzing fear is more of a metaphor and I say that because in my extreme sense of fear of that bee, I was doing the exact opposite of standing still. 

I kind of liked my one year of Catholic school.  This was all due to our uniforms.  Mom couldn't afford fancy brand name clothes for me so wearing that green plaid button up shirt with dark pants just like everyone else made me feel as rich and as poor as everyone else.  In second grade, there are plenty of ways of expressing your own individuality without resorting to superficial measures like clothes.  And to make matters even better, I lived so close to this school, I simply walked to and fro every single day.  No one had to see or hear the banana colored muffler-less car that was the symbol of my mom's financial struggles.


Fast forward.  Skip the eight years of Christian school and three years of college.  Fast forward through my twenties where I had the best friends a man can have and learned many lessons of unrequited love.  Fast forward through my early thirties where I learned about addiction.  And death.   And being co-dependent.  And failure.  And success.  Even a small degree of wealth.  And more addiction. 

Fast forward through those late thirties where I learned about unconditional love.  Fast forward through the sharp double edged sword of being dumped and the pieces of a glass heart strewn recklessly in front of my face; only to be glued back together when a second chance was ultimately my reward. 

Fast forward through all those years because fear was not a part of my daily routine.  Worry, concern; none of that even truly existed in my well insulated bubble.  If ignorance is bliss then bliss is a mirage of delusion.  Those who prefer well insulated bubbles are the ones who will learn about the true meaning of paralyzing fear later on. 

Here I am in my early forties; feeling as young as I ever have.  Despite those moments of jaw dropping horror like when I'm watching Forrest Gump and realizing it was made 20 years ago or when I heard the Karate Kid was now 52 years old... despite those moments where I am reminded that my calender is quickly running out of days... despite the random gray hairs that occasionally appear out of nowhere... despite all of the fear that consumes my entire day, I feel more alive than I ever have. 

If knowledge is power and if that knowledge elicits fear, then I dare say, fear is bliss.

I was standing in my front yard late this afternoon fumbling through my mail.  A lonely old bee buzzed around my head and then for about 15 seconds, it seemed to be suspended in mid-flight.  Eyes to eyes, we just stared at each other. 

"It's your move, Mr. Bee", I bravely thought as my heart started beating faster and faster. 

It was a staring game of sorts.  Me versus bee.

I won't lie.  It was second grade all over again.  I was scared to death.

But I've learned something throughout the years... Rather than letting fear envelop me, I embrace it.

I looked at the bee and realized it wasn't even an inch long.  It's jagged little stinger was smaller than my fingernail.  So, considering this new math that I was accounting for, I stood there frozen; waiting for the bee to leave.  A paralysis of sorts, I suppose. 

I won the staring game.  The bee flew off and then, I ran into my house like a little girl.

They say bees smell fear.  I am certain they do because we as people, also sense fear in each other.  The difference is with bees, if they use our fear to unleash their jagged little stinger on us, they die minutes later.

Maybe, next time I see that bee, I will just let him sting me.