High School Never Ends...

Though cliche, the saying is sadly true. Especially in the workplace. Although it's really tough when it's you boss/superior acting like an insubordinate child who isn't getting their way. What transcends into people's minds where they hatch this idea of if you're not my best friend, than I'm going to make your life utterly miserable?

For instance, a scenario in which I don't ask about their weekend, or exactly how they're feeling can make a HUGE impact on whether or not my life at work is going to suck. I'm sorry to inform this, but I am an employee. I was hired to do a job, collect a paycheck and go home. Not only am I doing what's above and beyond that of what's expected of me, I now have to "care" about people in a way that's reserved for close family and friends. Honestly, I don't care about your day. I don't have any opinions on what you did over the weekend. It's not my place to interfere or interact with such nonsense.

Sure, I like to keep to myself. I get along with everyone, but that's still on a surface level. No need to dive into the deep end and pretend to care about something I have no interest in. Sure you want someone to care. You need reassurance that the chaos in your life will subside and that you're not alone, But I hate to break it to you, we all have issues, I'm not your mother.

The current scenario that really has me fired up, is this;
Last week, the unpredictable weather patterns were so screwed up, not only was I driving on pure ice, but the snow was coming down hard. Thick flakes of snow impairing my vision. To make matters worse, it was so cold outside, that the windshield kept frosting over to the point of having to be scraped while I was driving. I decided that since I was in an accident 2 months ago, that it would be best to stay indoors and not go in to work an overnight shift, risking my life both ways to and from work. We had been caught up from the day before, and there was no need for my extra hand this particular evening.
So I called in. It wasn't a "sick" call. I told the truth. "The weather is too bad for me to risk my life tonight. I'm going to stay inside." To which I was told "Cool bro. Stay safe" This was Saturday Night.
Sunday comes, no problems. Monday comes, No Problems. Tuesday, No Problems. Wednesday, No Problem. THURSDAY. I walk in the door, and have my boss jump down my throat as if he was cutting a promo for the world heavyweight title. Out of absolutely nowhere. All I could do was look into the distance, shrug my shoulders and move on.
I was told how "Uncool" and "Unprofessional" it was to call in that day. How it better NEVER happen again, and "Depending on my mood, I may or may not see to it that you're terminated tonight."

To think, I just got a raise. I don't have attendance issues. I've never been written up. I'm 10 minutes early EVERY night. I work diligently and quietly. Finishing up all of my work, then moving on toward other departments that may have fallen behind. Hell, they even have me training new hires and I'm not a Manager. I do it to keep the stress off the boss' back. They even have me secretly training new guys on the forklifts. Which if caught I'd be fired for doing so. But as long it helps the managers not have to do their own responsibilities, it's all good. Not only that, but just last week, he was telling me that they're lucky to have me, as I'm their go to guy whenever they're in a bind. Sooooo..... What the hell?

He then finishes belittling me, and ends the conversation snidely with, "Oh, and my weekend and daughter are fine, THANKS for asking."
Ummmm..... What? Yeah, like I'm really gonna go ahead and ASK how your day was. pfsh. Whatever "Bruh"
As I try to maintain my composure, I don't argue. I just reply with "okay" and walked away from the conversation.

Just then, it dawned on me. As he was flared up, showing his peacock feathers to me, I remembered, last January, they got rid of his inner circle. A group of young thugs with which we had worked with. The kind of guys who make you check your pockets anytime they walk by just to make sure you still have your wallet. They were a tight circle of buddies, and ran the building in an unflattering, yet intimidating way. It just so happens that a year later, they were all mysteriously hired back, and now the boss has to maintain some kind of "Thug Life" persona.
The whole ruse last night was just to show off his big dogg muscles to this buddies. WOW. and I'm "Unprofessional" and "Uncool?"
So uncool in fact, that for some reason by the end of the night, his iphone was dead. Low and behold Who's the only guy in the building with a charger? Yup. People are always nice when they need something. I guess that little white cord kept me from the chopping block to survive another night.

Maybe I should feel privileged? I try to maintain one simple rule. It's known as Wheaton's Law. Which simply put is "Don't be a dick" If more people would abide by this one simple concept, maybe the world wouldn't be such a screwed up place.

I know this has been pretty lengthy so far, but getting it out seems to help with the anxiety. Plus, if I keep making this "thing" maybe I'll let off some steam from pent up frustrations not creating for so long.
I'll keep it simple for you guys still reading. Live your life for you. It doesn't matter who can flare a bigger temper. In the end, nothing is gained, but respect is lost. Just because you say a lot, doesn't mean you have a lot to say. And just because you hold your tongue, doesn't mean you're weak. I'll leave you with those thoughts to mull around until next time. And until then, Don't be a dick.

Back, Back, Back Into Action...

A Return. To what exactly? I'm not sure. Maybe it's the desire to create, to immerse myself in something other than the utterly dull existence of eat, work, sleep, repeat. Even Netflix isn't doing it these days. No. It's as if something is missing. Some piece of the puzzle isn't there, and I'm filling the void with an unhealthy amount of depressive sleep. Could it be that I haven't done anything useful with my time for so long, that I've forgotten how to be artistic? the inspiration to write and record new music hits me like a tidal wave from time to time, but not nearly as much as it did just a few years ago. And what exactly do I do with the songs I record anyway? Listen to them for my own enjoyment, like a companion speaking my words in my own voice to comfort myself? How narcissistic can one be?

On one hand, I do have enough resources to get myself out there and play shows again. But at what cost? Run the risk of touring and not seeing my family? In that light, it's not worth it to me, not being there for my kids. Sacrifice? Maybe. Worth it? Most definitely. I find myself trying to gravitate toward more logical, yet attainable ideals. I mean, it seems as though the comic book store is my only means of getting away from my head, at least an hour a week.

Still, I feel like there's more out there waiting for me. Music is all well and good, but as we all know, music today isn't what it was a few years ago. The industry has changed so much, not only am I unsure I could even make it in that world anymore, I'm not sure I would want to. To begin, nobody even buys albums anymore. Everything's digital. I refuse to pay storage fees, and share a cut of profits from anything earned to a server site or other 3rd party host. Fine print also states that anything submitted then becomes the intellectual property of said entity. Which I completely disagree with. Deal with me directly, and I'll distribute myself. With all proceeds going to me and my family you greedy dicks.

Plus, doesn't it seem kinda douchey to say "Yeah, I'm a musician" or "I'm in a band." I mean, yechh. Back in my day, that was such a cool thing to say. (At least in my head) Then again, maybe wisdom does come with age, and I'm finally realizing all the stupidity I've surrounded myself with for so many years.

Still, I'm aimlessly searching for something. To find myself? To find Hope? Whatever it is, it has me scratching my head late at night, making me wonder what it is I'm here to do and when I'll find my true meaning.

Mid-life crisis? hope not. That would imply that my life is almost over. To that I say there's no way.
Why all of a sudden am I thinking this way? I mean, I do have a dead-end job but at least it's paying the bills. Could that be it? I don't want to spend the rest of my days stuck in some low level, menial job that affects my health, and punishes those who crave diversity and anyone who speaks their mind with an intelligent manner.

That's a conversation unto itself to which I can speak for hours.

New baby on the way? Partly. Maybe. It's one thing to look at someone without kids and judge. "Who do they think they are?" "They don't know what they're missing" "Don't tell people with kids how to raise them when you don't have any of your own."
It's another thing to look at other parents and judge that as well.

It's an entirely different thought process to think about, when you have a 3 year old, and one on the way. It's exciting news, yet terrifying at the same time. Can I do it again? will I ever sleep again? Is my piece of shit job enough to support another life? How will I divide my attention and love evenly and yet remain happily married or sane? Another little person in this world means taking care of business. How can I teach success, if I'm not living the embodiment of success? And what defines success? money? Companionship? Love? To a certain degree I guess I am successful, but when it comes to raising kids, I believe that your level of success in your own mind remains unfulfilled because you always want to prove more to your kids. You get to be an embodiment of everything great in a grand scale through their eyes. Which makes failure hurt twice as much.

Over-analysing? I'm certain of it. But it's not as though I can pull the curtain over my eyes and ignore it. Why? I dunno.
Mortality has become an even bigger issue since the car accident. It's been nearly 3 months and I still can't get in a vehicle, driver OR passenger without hesitation, and anxiety issues. It gets to the point where I find myself nauseous and dizzy anytime I see a car out of place. Will that ever subside? I sure hope so. I'm not clutching the handle on the passenger side as much as I was. Although I still don't like the idea of cars anymore. The snow doesn't help either. 12 years. 12 whole years, and not one accident, traffic incident, speeding ticket, etc. Then, one day some idiot blindly t bones you, and your world falls apart. You start thinking just how much time do I have left? I'm glad my pregnant wife and small child weren't in the car.

I come to think of it as a blessing. I got hit so they wouldn't have to. I sacrificed myself to keep them home and safe. It's the only logical explanation.

Then again...A blessing from whom? or what? maybe it was all coincidence? Whatever it was, has sent me into a turmoil of manic mood-swings, depression, anxiety, and spite.

Maybe I just need a voice. A way to carry out these despicable thoughts, with someone to listen and tell me that it's going to be okay. It's hard to speak when you're the only one listening. Spoilers: I know how it ends. People don't quite understand, and I can't say that it's pure ignorance or lack of empathy. I think people hear without listening. Most others are only concerned with themselves and their own mistakes or problems. Who knows? Maybe they've been where I am before, and gave up when nobody would listen to them?

Everybody has their own void to fill I suppose. It's hard to make time for anyone else when you're buried neck deep in your own issues. I guess it's a good thing I remembered about this blog thing. Eventually, I'd like to turn this sort of thing into a podcast. But without a solid theme, who would care to listen? If you've read this far, congrats. Thanks for choosing to spend your time with me. I enjoy the company. Somewhat.