"Our greatest fear is not that we are inadequate. Our greatest fear is that we are powerful beyond measure. It is our light, not our darkness that most frightens us. We ask ourselves, "Who am I to be brillant, talented, fabulous?"
Actually, who are you not to be? You are a child of God. Your playing small doesn't serve the world. There's nothing enlightened about shrinking so that other people won't feel insecure around you. We were born to make manifest the glory of God that is within us. It's not just in some of us, it's in ALL of us.
As we let our own light shine, we unconsciously give other people permission to do the same.
As we are liberated from our own fear, our presence automatically liberates others."
Ah yeah, the sounds of Football. The cheering crowd, the pounding of the astro-turf or freshly cut grass, The cheerleaders with their short skirts and *ahem* pom poms...bouncing up and down. There is something in the air, something that cannot be replaced by any other season in the world. What is that something? Well, it's alcohol for one. Not good alcohol, but stinky beer and stadium food. Those autum evenings are just filled with the aroma of Budweiser and pretzel confections. Now, as appealing as that is to some of you, hell, I'd even consider going because it sounds like a great way to waste my time and money on a Sunday. But for some people, they love it even if it's not real. Yep, here I go on another Video Game tangent.
The setting: 11:45 PM Monday, August 8th.
After a very very long day of taking reserves, answering stupid phone calls like..."I reserved my game.....does that mean I can pick it up early?" No, you twit, it means you ....reserved.....your copy that you can pick up on the day it releases. Here is a phone exerpt...
Heartless: "Thank you for calling ***** where you can buy and sell used games...this is Heartless can I help you?"
Idiot: "Yeah dog, I reserved that Madden junk, can I come get it?"
Heartless: "Uh, no....it's not out until tomorrow...you should get a phone call when it comes in letting you know when you can pick it up."
Idiot: "so I should get a call?"
Heartless: "Yep..."
Idiot: "Well, have you gotten to me yet?"
Heartless: "Did you recieve a call?"
Idiot: "uh...no..."
Heartless: "Then we didn't get to you..." *click*
Yeah, Madden, folks! A Freakin football game! You know, Football doesn't change from year to year. It remains the same damn game since a bunch of white dudes started deciding to play "Smear the Queer" but professionally. Give the ball to someone who runs and everyone else tries their damnest to hit them. The harder the merrier. People love this game so much that we opened at midnight for them to come and get it.
12:00 Midnight...Tudesday the 9th
I hear a stampede of feet down the Mall hallways and of course the ignorant and stupid are running! It's like the "running of the *racial slur*. I think we had about 3 white folks in a total of about 145 people that came into the stores, and even they had that corn rows. Now, I ain't making fun of Black folks, hell, I have black friends who laugh that the smucks who ran just to stop and wait in line to get their game. *shakes finger at mob....* "What a silly negro!"
Freakin couch jocks! Get a freakin life, go play in the park or grab a wholesome RPG to play. Use your imagination, something that doesn't involve the gridiron. You didn't make it to the pros, and I don't care if you won state in highschool. I don't even give a shit if you got a full ride scholarship to play Smear the Queer in college. It just proves that they'll give anyone a shot at an education. Your a tool, go catch the freakin frisbe you mutt....and don't forget to wipe your ass across the grass before you come back into the house.
"Kiss the rings bitch, I'm out..."
"alarm goes off at 7...and go walk to town,
you put in your 8 hours...for the powers that have always been...
Till it's 5 PM..."
Well actually, most of the time I wake up at 11 and go in at 1. Work till 10 and head home, check email surf the net and go to bed.
Sorry for not keeping everyone updated every day as I had planned to. Work however is keeping me on my toes. My Boss is about to go through surgury, he has a rip in his intestine...which needs to be worked on asap. So, saying that Friday will be my day to work a bloody double...Friday...the busiest shopping day of the week...the day everyone gets paid and blows their entire wad....of cash that is...at my store. But, I'll be off on Saturday- tuesday...I'm not complaining. A little work will make me enjoy the weekend off even more.
Well, We laid Blaze's Grandmother to the ground today. I don't believe I've ever seen a more beautiful casket. The vault was beautiful as well. Brilliant White with pink roses engraved over the entire vault. I entered the funeral home today and went to give roses to Blaze and her Mother. The family was seated behind a curtian which I had to come arround to see them. Let me tell you, I've never felt more uncomfortable in my life. I can endure much, I use to work security in a bad bad part of town and that wasn't as bad. It was as if I was standing infront of a firing squad. I handed two single roses, one to Blaze, one to her Mother. I didn't know what to do else, Blaze accepted the rose with a smile and a look that she was glad that I was there. Her mother on the other hand looked as if she was about to stab me in the chest. It's ok though, I wasn't there for her bitch ass Mother. I was there for Blaze. But apparently I am good for something. I was asked by the Mom to gather the flowers after the graveside service. Yeah, I'm not good enough for her daughter, but apparently I'm a great care-taker. Later, after I was gone, she asked Blaze if I was arround.....aparently she was wondering if I could fix her lawnmower. No, I'm not kidding. Even after a year, and after Blaze has told her time and time again that my nationality was Thai, while I was gathering flowers with Blaze, she was sitting eating with the relatives and laughing about me...saying I was aparently "Samoan...." yeah, they got a real kick out of that. I'm sure the word "Lynch Mob" is the same in my "native tongue..." My Father told me that a funeral is no time to start a confrontation...his words and my Fiance are the reason I didn't shoot flames from my eyes at that group of ignorant hicks....
No one would listen
No one but her
Heard as the outcast hears.
Shamed into solitude
Shunned by the multitude
I learned to listen
In my dark, my heart heard music.
I longed to teach the world
Rise up and reach the world
No one would listen
I alone could hear the music
Then at last, a voice in the gloom
Seemed to cry "I hear you;
I hear your fears,
Your torment and your tears."
She saw my loneliness
Shared in my emptiness
No one would listen
No one but her
Heard as the outcast hears
No one would listen
No one but her
Heard as the outcast hears...
Part 1: Death.
First off, I'll start by saying, this post isnt exactly a happy one. Last night, I found out that my fiance lost her Grandmother. This wasn't a surprise because of her slowly fading health due to an unknown cancer. I don't whether to be saddened at her loss, or to be relieved that her Grandmother is finally at peace. Ofcourse I am saddened that I could hear the saddness in my dear heart's voice. I wasn't there, I wasn't able to reach out and hold onto her. It's because of my uncomfortablness in being in the company with her mother and family. I never known when I'm welcome. There are moments that I can laugh with them, then things will get drastically silent. Then again, Blaze doesn't feel welcome at her own home either. (Blaze is my fiance by the way, since I'm not about to give you our real names, that will have to do.) It is such a shame that people who are suppose to love you are the very first ones that make you feel like you are the outsider, that your place is not with them. I've never felt that from my family, so I could not fathom how that would feel. My heart goes out to all of you who have felt it in your lives. The problem with Blazes mom is that she's had a ..."hard" life....yeah, I know, we've all had a hard life. You don't see me giving my friends hell and telling them that they don't matter. My father worked on a farm for most of his young life, had it hard and endured through much, yet he doesn't tell me that having me was a mistake. He doesn't say that I am the reason he had to sacrifice doing what he wanted. Yes, Blaze's mom says all of those things on a regular basis. And yes, I am trying to remove Blaze from that situation. I garuntee you, I made a vow that noone would ever hurt her as long as I was in the picture, that inculdes family members, the physical aspect of abuse, and the mental aspect. Mark my words.
Par 2: Taxes
Ugh, not enough time or webspace to go into that.
Part 3: Taxidermy
Ok, I know that in the south, and some midwestern states, to send your fresh kill or trophy to the Taxidermist is a common thing. You proudly display your conquest so that everyone can see. Hey there Jim Bob, take a look at this Buck that I hit with my winchester! Hey Julie, look at this beautiful bobcat I capped to defend my livestock. Greg, have you ever seen a more impressive build on a kangaroo...I hit it with my truck! Hey Enigma, that's my cat Rum Tum Tugger, I stuffed him so that he'll always be in my livingroom! What????? Ok, I know I can be a narrow minded person at times. But I can't imagine sending my pet, to a taxidermist, they'd pose it and freeze dry it so that I could keep it on my mantle. My Pet is not a trophy, not a conquest, and deserves my respect. I don't need a constant reminder that I've lost my friend, that they wont be arround to kock my shit off the table, to cough up hairballs in wierd places, or leave a "Rose bud" on my pillow when they're pissed at me. The spirit that was in my friend is gone, departed rejoined the *living force* or even puppy dog and kitty heaven. Don't ask me how I got stumbled onto this, it just happened...leave it at that. "It's easier to cope with...I can't imagine my pet decaying in the ground, rotting away..." - Quote a taxidermy website that specializes in freezing your animal for eternity. Wow, another satisfied customer! Let me say, the reason your animal isn't rotting on the hearth is because they freeze dry the little critters! They take out the insides and toss them, drain everything from your beloved friend...wow that's so respectful. You've just turned your friend into a statue for your viewing pleasure. How about just bronze em? Then they really aren't going anywhere and if they drop in a pool they sink to the bottom and are water tight! I will always remember my dear friend and pet who comforted me when I was sick and hurt. I will always remember my faithful companion as they ran in the grass, and yes, I will always remember that little shit who left his mark on my pillow. I don't, however wish to turn them into a paper weight or conversation piece. Could you imagine a taxidermist posing me into a tranquil position at my computer for an eternity when I die. My eyes closed and my mouth open in a large laugh as I chatted with my online friends. Hand poised over dramatically over the mouse in anticipation to recieve my latest email or Kaza MP3! It doesn't have great ring does it? Bury your pets true believers....Give them the respect they have so earned.
Hey there True Believers,
Well well, I suppose this is where I will begin. I usually get free dinners and meals when I tell stories. Perhaps I'll put up a wishlist and you can feel free to send things to me if your amused in anyway. (Don't worry, I don't expect that.)
Today I went into work, let's not call it work, let's call it a massive inconvenience. Don't get me wrong, I love my workplace, I love my job, hell I'm even happy sometimes to go to work. Ahh yes, the bumbling masses, the busy trophy brides that bustle about with armfuls of Macy's bags, hair perfectly primped from "Goulds" and expecting me to take care of their children. "It's ok son, hang out with the nice Gamestop man, re-arange his store, ask him tons of obvious questions that he neither has the time nor the patience to deal with and I'll be back in an hour *gleeful laugh* I'm gonna run up your daddy's platinum card, hell we can't be almost out of debt!" Yeah mom, I'll take good care of your kid for you, hey kid, do you like Video Games? Have you ever heard of Grand Theft Auto? How about "Hot Coffee"?
For those of you who don't know, recently, Gamestop and several other chains of Video game retailers (EBX you don't count, we own you...) last week, pulled all their copy's of Rockstar Productions testosterone pumping game, Grand Theft Auto, San Andreas, from their shelves. After a recent code discovered and placed on the internet, allowed gamers and viewers to see and take part in a sex scene on the video game, Angry Parents and dangerously low sperm count law makers decided to take action. Now, before you think that I'm a trashy pig who thinks that sex scenes on video games are cool, give me a moment.
How amazingly desperate and sad is someone who finds fullfilment and companionship in the gyrating motions of a pixelated female. No wait Jim, I think she loves me, my L2 button told me so! To start with, Grand theft auto is an amazingly simple minded and ignorant game. I believe I lost IQ points partaking in gameplay that reminded me of the worst of the worst Dolemite or Rudy Ray Moore movies. Hmm, stealing cars, shooting the law, picking up a hooker when things are down for a health top off then beating the hell out of her to get my money back are several things that the educated game player has to look forward too in this Urban Masterpiece. Rodger Ebert gave it...well...I think he's too busy eating a bucket of chicken and waving gang signs right now to comment. Hold on, let me get my grape soda so I can fit right in.
Now,before you tight lipped citizens raise the flag to rally behind me, I got something to say to you. Most of you were outraged that your children were being subjected to this trash. Blame yourself you self loveing sico-fantic sons of bitches. There is a rating on the game. Any self respecting parent would bother to look at it before you purchase the game for little Timmy, or little Shakwan, whatever side of railroad track you come from. In this growing market of entertainment, Video Games are not just for children anymore. Grown ups play Video games to take their minds off of the things that make their day, well...grown up. Use your best judgement, if you see a video game cover displaying a buxom whore with a lollypop in her mouth asking for a ride, you could either; 1) pay me $54.61 (tax inculded) and you could partake in this, or... 2) decide that you'd rather buy John Madden 2006, which you can also reserve from me for a measly $5.00 down.
To be perfectly honest with you true believers, I don't care what side your on. How many protests you throw, or how you argue it's your right to play what you will, as long as you take the responsibility for your actions. Can you grasp that the land of video games is not the land of reality? Can you realize that it takes a massive market of different tastes to ensure that game programers have a job, that variety is the spice of life. Behind us are the days of leaping over mushrooms and gathering coins to rescue a princess that manages to get herself kidnapped more often than not. But then again, maby those days arent gone. What matters is that you get your kid out of my store ok?