Nobody Cares!

Okay! Maaaybe I get a little rant-y today. But of course there's also that way funnier post I did over on Sprocket Ink today. Just click here. Otherwise, feel free to continue.

After you visit Sprocket that is...

In life we all go through some crap. Sometimes it can be petty annoying crap that messes up your day, sometimes that crap can be so craptastic it can even be life altering. I've been through both and if there's one thing I've learned from my experiences is this:

Nobody cares.

This took me a while to accept, but the pure and simple fact of it is, no matter how broken up you might be about your troubles, no matter how big a pity party you throw, at the end of the day, people have their own lives and their own crap to deal with. They don't have time to shoulder your burdens too.

Maybe you work for one of those "caring companies". Good for you! But you should know they don't actually "care" about their employees. I'll let you in a secret. It's still all about them. See, they figured that staff are more productive and are less likely to quit (or go on a homicidal rampage) if they feel their bosses "care" about them. Sorry to break it to you like this.

Or am I?

So let's say you had a bad relationship, or worked in a place that totally screwed you over. Do you think the next person or employer that comes along is looking for damaged goods? Maybe that new person or boss sees your potential and decides to give you a chance. Maybe they like fixing broken things and you're their next project. Those will be among the rare exceptions and will only be good up to a point. Eventually, they will expect to see some return on their efforts and you'll be expected to pick yourself up and dust yourself off. If not, they dump you too (WOOHOO! More to sulk about).

Nope. They don't care. They don't give a shit. They don't want deal with your issues. That's the hard truth, buddy.

Now, don't get me wrong, there are those who will care for a while. Close family, even friends will often lend a sympathetic ear or a shoulder to cry on. But they're only willing to put up with it for a while, and trust me, they get really tired of someone who keeps living in the past.

So all that being said, maybe you should think about actually getting over whatever it is that knocked you down and get on with your life. Maybe it's you who needs to stop caring. Just let go whatever "it" was that got you down. Learn whatever you can from it and move forward.

Or not. Whatever! I don't care.

A Step-By-Step Guide To Almost Failing A Class.

1. Miss a major percentage of your classes due to demands of job.

2. Two-thirds of the way through the semester finally realize you haven't been receiving notes and updates from your lecturer because you just had to use the student email account the school forced you to take and it hasn't been working properly.

3. Fail to get required text books from school library because other students got to them before you did.

4. Miss group presentation day because you have to work late (worth 30% of overall grade).

5. Get fired from said demanding job less than two weeks before final assignment is due, spend first week in a funk (even though you promised yourself wouldn't let it get to you) and do absolutely nothing during that time.

6. Get make-up assignment from lecturer to help give you a fighting chance after missing the group assignment, wait until last possible minute to finally get started and panic because you only have two days  to research and prepare two presentations.

7. Instead of working on assignments, write a blog post explaining steps you took to very likely fail a class you should be passing with your eyes closed.

The Five Scariest Words.

Bonus day!!! I'm here and on Sprocket Ink with two full posts. You are quite welcome. So click the link, go, read, enjoy and then come back here for desert. It'll still be fresh when you get back.

********

It was a Monday morning like any other Monday morning. I was at my former workplace, The Paper. As I always do, I went to the kitchen to get a cup of coffee. As I neared my destination, I should have sensed there was something wrong. Had it been any other day, my senses would have been sharper. Perhaps, had I already had that cup of coffee, I might have noticed that nature was slightly off-balance. But I didn't. Not until it was almost too late.

I walked through the kitchen door and immediately it hit me. There was indeed a disturbance in the force. There, in front of me, stood Joy and Fitz (not their real names, obviously). They were locked on a stare reminiscent to when a gazelle looks into a lion's eyes and knows he's just breathed his last.

I didn't know what was going on, but every instinct I had screamed at me to get out of that room. Which, of course, I did.

The tension in the air was thick. Soon, Fitz tried (unsuccessfully) to speak.

Fitz: That's not what I meant! I mean- Um... All I was saying was- I didn't mean that you were... Please don't kill me.


This was bad. Whatever he had said, Fitz had crossed a line. A line no man should cross, and now his end was near. Poor Fitz. I almost never spoke to him, but he seemed nice enough. If only I had the time, maybe we could have even been friends. But it was too late now. I decided it was best I get to a safe distance before Joy decided to make me seconds.

After the funeral Later, I found out what had happened. Joy and Fitz had run into each other in the kitchen and were chatting. That's when Fitz said the words that would seal his fate.

Fitz: You must have had a fun weekend. You look fatigued.

I. know. He actually did say that.

Then Joy - the woman who always smiled, the woman who prefers to hug you instead of telling you 'Good morning', the woman who pouted for three whole days because management refused to let her put up decorations in the office at Christmas... Yes, that Joy - stopped. The smile which seemed to be etched on to her face was still there, but somehow it seemed twisted... EVIL. Her eyes froze in a deathly stare and she said the five words that will reduce even the surliest brute to a blubbering puddle of fear.

Joy: What's that supposed to mean?

Even I was rendered speechless just imagining the conversation. Fitz did manage to survive, but he was a shell of his former self. He spent the rest of the day lumbering around the halls, refusing to make eye contact with anyone. Though it takes only a few hours for the spine to return to it's solid state, it would be several days before he could face Joy again.

We can only hope he learned a valuable lesson from his encounter and never makes that mistake in the future.

Random Thoughts Of A Sleep Deprived Mind.

For those of you who have noticed my lack of posting this week, I've been in the midst of end of semester exams. For those of you who haven't, well... I haven't been posting this week... because of... exams.

I recently finished a final project for one of my classes which kept me up until 4:30am and I haven't had chance to get a full night's sleep since.

I think that is the reason I've had all kinds of random things bouncing around my head that I thought I could slap together were funny enough to make a post. Kinda like my old "Random Tuesday Thought" posts I used to do back in the day.

I blame sleep deprivation for what comes next...

- The other day I was folding a shirt when I realized it was inside out. The first thing I thought about was hitting the "Undo" button. That's when I realized I've probably been spending too much time at the computer. Then the next thing I thought of was to blog about it.

- We've been battling a serious ant infestation in our home. I think they're winning. The other morning they scored a victory by getting inside our electric kettle's wiring and rendering it useless. Don't ask me how.

- I learned the other day that two jumbo hot dogs are my limit. I know. I’m a total lightweight. I was able to figure this out very out soon after jumbo hot dog number four.



Not a good day.

- Up the street there's a yard with two really big dogs. I think one of is mixed with a smaller breed because his front legs are noticeably shorter than his back legs. I call him Dogosaurus Rex. He amuses me.

I miss those RTT days.


I'd say I need a nap but I'm actually about to leave for work. Plus, this is a six-day work week for me and I still have a Math assignment and two exams left.


Joy.

What Defines.

At some point we have had or will have that one pivotal moment or event in our lives that plays a major part in the direction our paths take. I've mentioned mine. When I lost my job at the bank more than two years ago. It changed my life irreversibly. I was set in a whole new direction that I never would have taken otherwise.

Recently I began to wonder. How many of us have had the rug pulled out from under us? How many of us have had our lives so completely upended by just one, singular event? It's so easy to let that one major triumph or defeat consume us. If we're not careful, that one life-changing event can become the thing that we use to define ourselves. Too often we get trapped in that moment. We let what we see as out biggest failure, or or even victory, define who we are. I know that was how it was for me for a while.

For a long time I let that one event define me. I let it cast a shadow over how I saw myself and dealt with others and with situations. I felt worthless, like everything I had accomplished up until that event was worthless. Worst of all, I felt like what had happened to me would be all I'd be known for. I just couldn't see past the mistakes I had made. At first, when my "big fall" happened, I hoped and prayed for some way to go back and fix the things that I did wrong. I knew it wasn't possible but if only I could only have a do over... But you can't go back.

After a while I became resentful. I blamed everyone, including myself, especially myself. I told myself I wanted nothing to do with that bank ever again. "Screw them!" I thought, "Banking isn't for me. I wasn't happy there, anyway." I know, sour grapes. But I meant it. I wasn't happy there. I would have preferred to have left under different circumstances, though.

I convinced myself that I was glad for it to be over. But, of course, it wasn't. I still have a loan and credit card there that I'm trying to pay off, so I have no choice but to go back from time to time. And for a while my stomach would turn every time I walked in the door. Even after months passed, I still felt pangs of guilt, shame and anger every single time I even passed in front of the building.

It took me a while to realize that that event wasn't all there was to me. I wasn't a loser or a failure because I failed at that one instance. Even if my mistake was a huge one, my life wasn't over because of it. It doesn't define who I am. I've realized that the only way it could do that was if I let every choice I continued to make was determined by that one incident. As long as I continued to live in that guilt, shame and anger I felt, then it would define me.

It wasn't the first time something bad had ever happened to me. More than likely, it wouldn't even be the biggest thing to ever happen in my life (even though one could hope that nothing worse could happen). Life has far too many ups, and even downs, to let just one event dictate who we are. The way I see it, you learn from it and do better the next time. Sure, shit happens, but as much as the situation may stink when it does, it will always stink if you just stay there and wallow in it.

I, for one, am tired of just wallowing in that shit.

[UPDATE] I didn't plan this but it fits. Check out Studio 30 Plus for other posts on this week's prompt "The Best Advice".

So The Real Question Is…

Remember when I said that, for the first interview for the reporter job at a newspaper, I was asked a certain icebreaker question? I said that I had answered so uniquely that they just had to have me back for the second interview.

Well, as I said, I was then sworn to secrecy and challenged to figure out the correct answer on my own by the time I got there for the second interview. I also said that the second interview went pretty well but, up to Friday, they still hadn't made their decision. So, in the meantime, why not share that question with you and the answer I provided? Exactly!

It went like this:

“king ... was seen walking and talking half an hour after his head was cut off”

True or False?

Now, for those of you who have come across this type of thing before, the obvious thing is that the sentence is missing a punctuation mark. It makes more sense if you put a comma right after “talking”. I’m sure this would have also occurred to many of you even if you haven’t done this kind of test before.

I, on the other hand, did not exactly answer it in the traditional sense. In fact, I totally missed the point, so to speak. My answer looked more like:

I can’t answer this question without getting some more information first:

- Was it really the king who was executed? It isn’t farfetched to think that he had a double take his place so that he could escape execution.

- Was it the same king ...? Could it have been one “king ...” who was executed and some other “king ...” who was seen both walking and talking somewhere else?

- Was the king who was seen in the act of walking and talking his successor (IE: King… the 2^nd, or 3^rd, etc)?

- Was the event where he was seen walking and talking a recording played after his execution? No mention of era was given in the above statement.

I stopped there. There were some other things I wanted to know, but I didn’t bother to put down (mostly because I ran out of paper):

- Was the king a walking, talking zombie? You know! As opposed to the more common shuffling & moaning variety.

- What did he do to piss everyone off anyway?

- Did he use time travel? If that was the case, he could have just been saying, “I’ll be the first king to go back in time,” then walked over to the time machine (See? Both talking and walking being done) and used it to go back in time one week. Unfortunately, his feat would have been seen as some sort of sorcery and the people then decided to execute him for practicing the dark arts.

Fortunately, they overlooked the fact that I am an idiot completely missed the point of the question and decided that my need to dig deeper, think outside the box and ask more questions were exactly the characteristics they were looking for in a future journalist. I was then allowed to proceed to interview number two.

I can only conclude that the moral of this story is: If you’re going to get it wrong, get it wrong with style. Things just might work out.

No, no, no! I'm Not *That* Vinny C.

It has come to my attention that I've become a victim of identity theft. Okay, I'm exaggerating. But it's still a case mistaken identity.

See, there's this show on MTV called America's Best Dance Crew and one of the dance groups this season (I think. I don't watch it) is a group called ICONic Boyz (with a "z", of course). Among the members is a kid named Vincent Castronovo. Young Vincent is apparently quite popular and is sometimes referred to as...

Vinny C.

Yeah, I know. Crazy, right?

And that's about much research as I did on this show.

Anyway, this other Vinny C has his own Facebook fan page, twitter and tumblr accounts. There is apparently a fan site too called "F*ck Yeah Vinny C" (which is a little too much enthusiasm, if you ask me). Now it seems his fans, in a desperate search to attach themselves to anything Vincent Castronovo, have been sniffing around and following to my Twitter account.

I've got nothing against the kid so if any of his loyal fans read this, please stifle the overwhelming urge to blast me with angry comments in his defense. I'm just saying, I'm not him. If this still offends you then you're beyond any help I (or anyone else besides maybe a therapist) can offer.

That being said, I'd like to take the time to inform these misdirected fans that they should observe the obvious differences between the young Mr. Castronovo and myself before following my tweets only to realize your mistake a few days later and dropping me like a soiled jockstrap.

Vincent Castronovo:

Source

Me: 

Take a few seconds. Get a good look. For those who may still be unclear, I'll guide you to the obvious differences:

- I've been told I look young for my age but, still, I'm not 12-years-old. I know he isn't really 12 (Probably), but I don't watch the show and don't care enough to go find out. I have a wife and, until recently, I also had a job... with a desk... where I had to wear a shirt. One that did not involve spinning back-flips on a stage.

- I do not now, or ever will, EVER, have a mohawk or fohawk or whateverthehell it's called. Not.happening. EVER! Don't even ask.

- I'm black. Well, mostly. I'd think that should be a dead giveaway right there.

- I can't dance. Not if my life depended on it. I've got two left feet that step on each other and just get a passing grade in getting me from point A to point B. That's how uncoordinated I am.

- I don't do jazz hands (or even a lone jazz hand) in my photos. One day, maybe. But not today.

So, to all you Vincent Castronovo fans out there, in your feverish stampede to get close to this young man, please take a moment to stop, take a breath, compose yourselves, mop the sweat from your brow and take a good look at the profile of the person you're about to follow.

Thank you and good day to you all.