The Hand Job

I'd like to take a break from the soapbox to share a story from prepubescence. The Fall's forthcoming has surely forced this one to the surface.

It was early October, and I was just about to turn thirteen. I had signed up to go on the church youth group hayride. I had never really been on a hayride before, and had convinced myself that it was NOT going to be a good time, but it would keep me out of the house for a few hours.

Since it has been nearly two decades, and several details are now too fuzzy to recall, I'll just cut to the meat of this thing. The group was twenty thick on the trailer of a one ton truck stuffed with tiny hay bales, and we were winding through a field peppered with pumpkins and squash and scarecrows. It was a chilly fall night, and as the sun went down I found myself sitting real close to a girl that I just happened to have a crush on. I honestly do not recall if this was a result of some strategic play on my part, but most likely I did everything I could to be right next to her. We had covered up under a blanket near the cab of the truck. The moment was flawless; the sun was setting, our jeans were touching. We were perfectly poised to fall into each other. As we got more and more comfortable, we started holding hands. Hard. It was the most intimate moment I had ever shared with a girl. We were softly exploring each others fingers, tracing the curves of our knuckles. It was getting pretty heavy. I had never been so excited in my life. The further the truck took us into that dark field, the more comfortable we became with each other.

This went on for awhile. I knew every millimeter of her fingers. We continued to trace each others life lines, our fingers intertwined. I could tell that the ride was soon coming to an end, and I didn't know how to approach the situation after we left the bed of this truck. I knew for certain that if I didn't play my cards right, we'd never ever hold hands again. Just as I was mentally navigating what I could say to her, she pulled both of her hands from underneath our blanket.

My heart sank. My fingers were still locked together in this amazing grasp, and yet I felt the magic drain out of the fingertips. All digits went limp, the heavy rubbing slowed. I looked at my girl, and she had no idea what was happening. I looked at the guy sitting next to her, and knew immediately. I had been hand in hand with an older man. We had both believed that we were holding hands with her. I gotta say... regardless of the truth of the matter, it was electric. There was a charge between our fingers, a magic. A horribly humiliating magic. We never spoke of it again.

Assimilate with Extreme Prejudice

I find the world of work to be utterly dumbfounding. Don't take this the wrong way. I work. A lot. I have always been with a job since the day that I was of legal age to hold one. Well, that's not true. I've spent short periods of my life jobless, and pretty bored and miserable. What I find to be so ridiculous about work is that we have allowed ourselves as a society to hold jobs that we cannot stand. We work for companies that don't even need to exist. We build useless shit and then we buy useless shit with the money we earned from the job that we dislike.

Now I know that this all sounds a little negative and cynical, and that there are people out there that love their jobs. I also agree that there are a lot of people out there that are doing great things with their lives, helping others, improving their surroundings, and all around just increasing the quality of life for themselves and others. I am willing to bet there are still more folks that would love to be in the position to do the same, but have been pigeon-holed into a situation where they have to make the ends meet by working at the tire factory or the chicken "processing" plant, or some other lifeless cog in the wheel of the American Dream machine.

If we could all truly take a step back from our "culture" and look at it for what it really is... it's heartbreaking. There is no one to blame but ourselves. Not MTV. Not FOX News. Not Wal-Mart. At some point, the majority failed. It's collective voice sighed in resignation and said, "I can accept mediocrity and dwell in the shallow end of the doldrums for the rest of my life. Besides, I got mouths to feed. It can't be THAT bad." Next thing you know, we get disco. And then, it got even worse. New Kids on the Block made it okay for young boys to go get $30 perms, only in the back, mind you. Thirty dollars. Parents were shelling out money they didn't really have to make their kids happy, to make their kids look like fools. I'm guilty. Guilty as hell. I never had a perm but I had a nappy rat tail. I remember my mom laughing at it, but she paid for it anyway.

We have been hoping to find happiness in the worst places. We were taught that if you shell out money for the trendy label then people will just flock to you and love you and then you will be happy. We have belittled ourselves to the point of working shit jobs to buy shit products from these companies that are exploiting our insecurities. I swear, if ever the wool had been pulled.....

I guess my whole point is to do what you love. Don't settle for what is convenient. If you have to struggle for a while to make it work, then I can guarantee that someone somewhere has got it worse. Stick it out. Don't give up. All that positive pep talk shit.

But seriously, we gotta help each other out to get through this thing. It really shouldn't have gotten this bad.

It's about time...

I don't know how long I have actually had this blog account. I vaguely remember setting it up one night, several years ago. I have always wanted to use it, but I have been fearful of writing for so long and for no good reason. I suppose I didn't want to come across as stupid or pretentious or whiny or too cynical or too naive or whatever. It boils down to fearing criticism of any kind. It is insecurity and self doubt and whatever else is afflicting my psyche at the moment.

At this point in my life, I have decided to throw caution and bullshit to the wind and rise up out of my snot-sealed sarcophagus and scream "FUCK IT!" I mean, who's gonna read this anyway? And out of those that do, who's really going to care? We are all just id and ego floating around the interweb. It's taken my superego this long to let go of my id long enough to type these few lines. Seriously, Id has been imprisoned for a long time. I'd say about six years, and that is another story altogether. Maybe if this blog grows up, we'll talk about it.

And since the blog is now born, after a three or so years gestational period, I guess it must find a purpose, and quick. I mean, the pressure is on now! What the hell could I really write about in somewhat serial fashion? What do i know? I know a lot about food, and cooking, and there is endless amounts to learn about said subject, but it's gettin' tired, man. Everybody loves grilling pizzas and smoking zucchinis and shit now. If it ain't weird, don't eat it! And I don't have any money to go out buying weird shit just to experiment with, so I'll leave that to the other thousands of bloggers out there that are already doing it. I'm also learned about music of all sorts, but I'm not looking to be the next Pitchfork, or Brooklyn Vegan either. I'm way too lame to meet those expectations. I did used to dance around my parents living room, in a jock strap, blaring the Everly Brothers. My parents were laughing too hard to voice their true concerns, which I'm sure were great, and rightfully so. That's some weird shit for a ten year old to be mixed up in...

Holy hell... how long are these post thingies supposed to be? I mean, of course, by societal standards. I don't want to push the boundaries of blogging by any means. I just don't know what they are, and even if they exist. I guess, from what I have seen, it can get pretty weird out there in the realm of the blog. Regardless... I guess for now I'll just ramble on about nothing until a doorway appears to lead me to a true pathway for me and my blog to follow. Of course, in tow will be all of my baggage, carried by my ego with my id on a leash. I am sure that if my legions of subscribers that I will surely have amassed just minutes after this first post, if any of them have any questions that they need answered, then I will happily oblige, for I do know everything, and I'm not afraid to share my vast wealth of knowledge. Of course anything I don't know and can't google, I will just fill in with vast amounts of tiresome, uninteresting bullshit.