Hollywood Holiday

12/19/06
Well, just like over the summer, I'm risking getting fired by keeping an on-going log of the goings on of my first job over at Green Hills Regal 16.

And I'll say this right now, a lot of things have changed.

The dirt is that the employee/manager relations is pretty much at a level of perpetual distrust thanks to the lack of a work ethic. Since I left, the inventory losses have been continuing to the point where the General Manager told me straight away that eleven people were fired in just the last three weeks. The charges range from calling in too many sick days in a row, stealing food from the concession stand, and generally being a bad employee. Nobody from the summer that I worked with was there. Most of them were fired or quit.

And as much as I hate to do this, my guess from the information I gathered was that all the black people were fired and all the white people quit out of personal conflict with management. At least that's what it sounds like from the people I talked to who I did recognize over the summer.

At one point, they were so short with employees they were ready to hire just about anyone. Around Thanksgiving, the theatre would gain only one new employee for every three people they loss. My return to the employee roster, as well as the hand full of others that decided to come back, is a blessing to the management. Not only do most of us have a work ethic, but we are also in good standing with the managing team.

Benefits also got compromised. Any transaction now with the theatre has to be done with a manager present. Employees working concessions no longer have access to any of the drawers for bags or cups. I found out the hard way that we are also locked out of the freezers, which makes refreshing hot dogs near impossible! Nothing can be done now without a member of management giving some kind of approval.

Speaking of which, one of my summer buddies got promoted to a manager position! This should make going to work with him rather awkward if nothing else. But, hey, at least there's someone on the management team that I can say I don't have to learn a new name to associate with a new face.

I can't say the same about the new group of kids they have running around. It seems the more things change, the more things stay the same. New faces replace the old roles. We still have the loud kids that think being "ghetto" is cool, we still have the usual employee spat over stupid things, and we still have people that don't act very professional around the register. Makes me kind of wonder if firing all those people simply because they were bad employees is really going to do any good in the end. We still have the same general pool of employees as far as how everyone acts.

Should be interesting seeing how not only am I working Christmas Eve, but the day after Christmas as well. The second of the two I'm told is hell on Earth.

12/21/06
It seems that the employee pool that I was introduced to is indeed different than before, almost to the point where people in general suck.

I found out when I talked to my new manager that the new employee roster doesn't like being told what to do by co-workers who are doing their jobs even though those that are doing their jobs were told by managers to correct people that were not doing their job. How long you've been at it doesn't matter. You tell someone to do something correctly, and they will fight back.

Case and point? I was called a snitch by another co-worker when I asked someone why they turned down the temperature on the hot dog roller. They told me that they were told to turn it down so the hot dogs won't over cook. I told them that a manager told me earlier that the temperature should never be lowered. I tried to get it confirmed by the manager working the concession stand helping us stock. Remember, they have gotten very strict about stock, so during rushes, there is always a manager helping out (especially on weekends). The manager working with us said not to turn it down. The employee who turned it down threw her hands up and said that if the dogs over cook, it's the manager's fault and not hers.

And yet, I was called the snitch because I was doing my job and not touching the dial as I was trained.

I can't blame why several of the kids that went to college like myself are not coming back in the summer. At this point, I would join them as well. However, at this point, I still can't drive and nobody in my family has "time" to help me get a Learner's Permit.

12/22/06 - Communication Failure
Today, we were pretty much screwed.

The usual opening day/night crowds came, but their volume was as if it was summer all over again. You would think that for a three o'clock matinee, most of the people in the mall would be shopping. Not the case today. Nearly every last matinee show was full, and since the evening times fell way to close to each other, this meant that clean up had to be done fast. My manager told me it will be like that all weekend long... and then some!

But that wasn't the worse part.

The reel we got of We Are Marshell went missing this morning. Our first show was cancelled as a result. The reel was found in time for the second showing. However, as it ended, the film ended up getting burned through by the light bulb. You'd be surprised how common this accident really is. After that, the film cut yet again an hour into the third show. And then again an hour before the ending. This resulted in the show letting out half an hour later than scheduled, resulting in a line in the lobby and the distribution of free passes for the entire theatre that show.

And if you think that was bad...

Over the course of the day, I had five people of various levels of anger come up to me complaining about how the newspaper said showtime for whatever movie but their ticket said another showtime. I had to double and triple check times as well as assure them that this kind of miscommunication between the theatre and newspapers is common. Which it is.

One upset senior tried to theatre hop as he waited for his show to start, as the time in the paper was an hour earlier than what was printed on his ticket. Needless to say, he got more upset when I told him he couldn't watch another movie he didn't pay for even if he was waiting for his to start. So, in a fit of rage, he left to get a refund.

The last patron that this happened to during my shift apparently was a first-time visitor to the Green Hills location, so I escorted her to the (new) Customer Service desk... only to find four other women there with the same problem. All five women wanted to see a movie that was advertised to start at a time an hour later than when we had scheduled to start.

For those of you that don't know, Opening Weekend times don't change until Monday. This applies to both theatre schedules and what is advertised in newspapers and online. That being said, this weekend's ushers (which includes me for yet another shift) are going to be run ragged.

12/26/06
Supposedly the most hellish time of year for those that work in the mall for minimum wage, I was able to get out of work thanks to a winter flu that strangely enough attacked everyone in the house! And I mean everyone!

And despite the military managing styles of my General Manager, I was able to score at least a sympathetic "Get well soon" from an Assistant Manager.

As of this typing, I'm still sick. I may be able to work tomorrow morning. However, I'll be seeing if I can get out of serving popcorn, seeing how I'm still fresh with the winter bug. Last thing I want is to be the cause of an outbreak just before National Hang Over Day.

12/27/06
I was well enough to work, but not well enough to work concession. Luckily, I was able to get out of it thanks to the managers switching around people. However, we were kind of short on staff for the madness that happened this morning. From what I was told, the same thing happened yesterday with four people calling out. However, I was the only one that had an honest and believable excuse.

In the end, I was able to get everything done by the time my shift ran up, which is an achievement given the fact that I fell behind cleaning so bad that a manager had to help me out. Tomorrow is my second day off for the season I'm working. Hopefully, I will be back to my old self by tomorrow night.

12/29/06
Got the first of my two pay checks this season today. Made just over a hundred bucks, but unfortunately, all that money is going to cover up an impulse purchase I made online after Christmas.

But that's not the big news of the day.

In the middle of an afternoon rush, a co-worker called me "Chong." I'm not even from the region where such a slur would come from, but I do not like being generalized simply because I am from the Asia region by blood. It is one of my personal pet peeves to assume that I'm one race when I'm clearly from another. I don't mind people guessing (i. e. "Are you Cambodian? Japanese?") and I love it when people actually ask me what my background is. But to just flat out assume pisses me off to no end.

I considered his action as racist and reported it. I even told him earlier when he asked if he could call me "Chong" what I would do. Apparently, he's an idiot and couldn't figure out why that is a bad thing. But then again, I was the one that assumed he knew.

In any event, I told my managers and they were gathering written statements from other employees who were working around the time it happened. Keep in mind that this was also done in front of a lobby full of customers too. Chances are one of them heard it, but which is pretty much impossible to determine. After all, they came to see a movie, and that's the only thing that was on their mind at the time.

Unfortunately, the person who called me "Chong" left before the managers could get a statement from him. Chances are he knew and wanted to save his hide from his parents.

12/31/06
My last day at work before my clean up and school preparation week, and what happens? I'm labelled "The Snitch" because of the fact I got someone fired. I explained to everyone that asked about the situation what happened and why I had to report it. I think (or rather hoped) they were able to relate because nearly everyone is a minority race in the employee roster. Still, I can't help but feel like I'm not the most hated employee at the moment. Granted I won't be back until May, specifically the week Spider-Man 3 comes out, but still.

Then again, who knows if that current pool of employees will still be around.

So my last week of work in the summer, I started a fire. It seems that I can't end a seasonal shift without something strange happening to me. Yes, something strange did happen to me that can top being called "The Snitch."

During my last hour of work, a couple comes up to me wanting to find a pair of seats together for their movie. I went ahead and helped them out to the best of my ability. I found a row with two seats available, but they were separated. The only way the two would be able to sit together is if I asked two groups of people, one a group of two and the other a group of four, to move down several seats. I couldn't talk to the group of four, however, without talking to the group of two first.

Well, the lady I talked to was really snappy. When I asked if she could move down a few seats and if she could tell the party in the middle of the row to move down as well, she fired back saying that "In my time, people were on time for the movies." She repeated this despite me telling her that she did not have to separate. She simply had to move down a few seats and ask the middle party to do the same. She grew hostile, and I gave in.

Leaving the woman who wouldn't make room for two people who didn't want to sit so close to the screen, I escorted the couple out of the theatre and apologized for not being able to help them. They left to get a refund, as they didn't want to watch the later showing of the same movie.

I asked my manager if what I did was the right thing to do. He assured me that it was, but I couldn't help feeling like kindness to others is dead. All she could have done is just move down a few seats and be accommodating to others. If she was late, she would want the same, would she not? Actually, now that I think about it, I don't think she would be late to a movie. I hope she never is though, but if she does... well, let's just say I hope someone does move for her, but chances are they won't.

Christmas Feaver

A holiday oddity for all of you that read this.

Everyone in my family is sick today in some level or another. My sister is on the tail-end of recovering, my aunt and I are battling the winter flu with us on the winning end, my mother is sleeping off her sickness, and dad is popping Halls cough drops like they are going out of style as he is preparing food for the store for tomorrow.

What a way to spend Christmas, huh?

Death of a Runt: A Self Analysis

I'm typing this shortly after learning that one of our pet birds died. It was barely a year old if even that, but it was the runt of the three that made it pass the stage of bird infancy.

My sister was the one that found him as she was returning her favorite of the three to the cage. Granted she isn't here as long or is exposed to the birds as often as I am, but the death of the littlest one affected her so much in a very short period of time. Initial shock quickly went to a state of dispare that resulted in her balling her eyes out as if she had lost a family member. That being said, I can only imagine what she will do when the dog dies. We've had the dog since we moved here, and she's getting up there in age. And technically, she isn't even my dog. But even I know she deserves better than how my sister is taking care of "her puppy."

My parents just accepted it. The little bird had a hard time growing his feathers in. His brothers kept attacking him if he got too close. Then there's the fact that it is getting colder and colder, and us humans seem to forget that there are birds down here that are native to the tropics. A lot of things went wrong, but other than that, my parents are pretty much unaffected by it. That's life, and that's what happens when you have a pet.

Myself? You would think being around the birds as long as I have, I would be affected more than this. Not so. As much as I wanted to separate the runt of the bunch, and as much as I knew that the little guy deserved a better living situation, I couldn't bring myself to care for the small animal. His passing is no different than the two rabbits and countless fish we lost since I was little. All of which I was never responsible for due to one reason or another. I knew my level of responsibility then and I know it now as far as animal care goes. That's why I refuse to have a pet of my own despite how much I like animals.

The death of a pet seems like a rite of passage that I've gone through several times. I should be more affected by this kind of thing, or like my parents, be more accepting but still be sad about a beautiful creature's life being cut short by nature. Especially in this case since we have had the little guy since he was an egg and had to feed him through a syringe! But for some reason, I have not had that surge of emotion that one gets when they see their pet dead after seeing it happy and fine the day before or even the hour before. Hell, I don't even feel like my parents with that sad acceptance.

Now that I think about it, the same thing happened when my grandmother died. I was still very young at the time and probably not even out of second grade. I cried and cried, not because I would never see her again, but because nobody was telling me what was going on. They just said she won't be coming back because she had passed on. I didn't understand what passed on meant until the day care I was shoved into after school took us all to see All Dogs Go To Heaven. They used that term in the script, and it suddenly sunk in what happened. But I don't remember being affected by it. If I was, I probably blocked it out of my mind or was all "Oh... okay, so that's what that meant."

I wonder if I would act the same way if someone I knew and actually cared about died. Would I be so detached from death that I would just blow it off and live life like nothing happen or would I finally mourn for the first time in my life having lost something I loved and know I won't get back ever again?

In retrospect, I've been through this before. Senior year of high school, three students died, two of which I had some kind of association to. One I didn't know very well, the other was generally a bully towards me and would join whatever crowd found my reaction funny and worth goating into a bigger reaction. Both were mourned by the other students that knew them. And all I remember feeling was curiosity as to what it must have felt like to die at a time in your life when you thought you were invincible.

Then again, the death of a pet is one thing. The death of a close friend or family member is another.

Yet both feel the same to me at this point. And both don't affect me as they should.

What I've Been Up To

Okay, it's no secret that I bought Roller Coaster Tycoon 3 with the intent on having fun with the fireworks engine. It's also no secret that it took me the better part of my free time to learn it on my own. No amount of online resources available made any sense of each of the controls, and out of frustration, I ended up teaching myself.

And here's what I ended up with!

Wide Angle


"Peep" Angle

Art - Fun = Business

It's strange the things you learn on the internet.

I was doing nothing more than killing time checking messages when out of nowhere, something caught my eye. A user claimed that she was a traditional artist because she was using pencil and paper and not computers.

Well, naturally, I couldn't pass up this opportune moment to be a thorn in someone's side who thinks they are all that. It's the jerk inside me that thinks they know more than the other person. And in some respect I do in this case.

But she held her ground with very simple logic. She draws for fun, she doesn't like drawing on the computer, she likes to call herself an artist even though she probably isn't one in neither the contemporary sense or even in the modern sense. She gets paid for what she does, but she isn't a commercial artist (or at least she didn't consider herself to be one). She just does it for fun. And if drawing doesn't become fun for her, she will simply just move on. Nothing can stop her from drawing. Not even the changing commercial markets or economy.

That's the simple explanation of our hour-long conversation over the live chat box I saw this in.

But she did bring up something interesting, something I forgot about for a while now.

Art for me used to be fun too. So fun, in fact, that it made me want to become an artist of some kind so I can just sit back, relax, and create whatever I want. I thought it was the perfect job I could ever have, because I would be having fun in the process.

Then I went to college and slowly found out that I need this in order for my piece to be considered art or that in order for it to be considered lucrative or this hidden idea in order for it to be taken seriously. The fun slowly but surely got sucked out of it over the course of every class teaching me how to look at things in an intelligent critical light and mind set.

Combine this with the fact that the art that sells the best to Joe Average is the art of the untrained. By that, I mean people without the education I have in the field of art. Like the user I was talking to earlier, they just do art for fun! And they make it interesting, because it is as close to that "pure art" that we as children produce. And that is something I am told all artists strive for. That freedom of expression and communication.

That being said, in a very acute retrospect of sorts, I'm starting to believe I'm being trained NOT to be what I wanted to be originally. I've admitted time and time again that I got into this field because it was something I enjoy doing and I wanted to become better at it. But the more formal training I go through, the more the fun starts to disappear. I don't feel like I'm being trained to be an artist or even like I'm being trained to make art. I feel like I'm being trained how to become a business product that is ever changing to communicate personal interests in a visual format. A tangible commodity of my own mind.

I guess that's what I find so frustrating. I didn't want to become a commodity. I didn't want my skill or even my knowledge to have a price tag (hence why I don't know when to shut up about a subject matter, which got me into this mess in the first place).

I had more fun in my Drawing class this past semester than I did in any of the classes where I had to learn technical skills because I wasn't worried about deeper content or execution techniques. I was finally doing something for the fun of it and enjoying it. But with Advance Seminar coming up, a class I'm told through the grape vine is one of those classes that is heavy on the idea and not so much on technique, I don't think I'll get that fun feeling back ever again.

(Un)Lucky

First off, as soon as you started reading this, you should know that I just got home after what should have been but wasn't the most liberating and exciting night of my life. And no, it didn't involve me getting laid finally after four years or so.

Through MySpace, I was alerted of a chance to show some work. It was a great opportunity and something that excited me since my debut show gave my ego a much needed stroking. At first, I was hesitant. After Flatline, I was all for it.

Needless to say, Jason was the one that got me to enter the show. He even offered to drive me there, with some after-show plans to hang out.

I like his company. There's something about him that makes me feel normal but at the same time very vulnerable. It's eerily comforting to me.

So how could I pass up that chance? Be in another show, get my ego stroked, afterwards go to a bar and just stare at all the hot men. What could go wrong?

Apparently, a lot.

The first thing that happened was someone misplaced my piece for the Untitled show. It ended up in a pile of trash consisting of brown butcher paper that some of the exhibiting artists used to protect their work as it traveled. It was found after I said to someone that I noticed my piece is MIA. After finding it, three of the organizers came up to me and apologized for what happened. One even went so far as to offer a free buy into the next show (meaning I don't have to pay the registration fee when I apply to exhibit with them again). I'll have to take them up on that offer, provided they remember it. But, more than likely, either I or they will forget that offer between now and then.

After my piece was put up in the show, I noticed that I received more exposure than I did when I debuted in Flatline. Mostly thanks in part to the fact that the show brought in a different kind of art crowd. But as the show progressed and my people watching habit began to take over, I noticed Jason getting more and more bored with what was going on.

And so, we went to Taco Bell. We talked about art, anime, mythology, and signifier. You know, the intelligent artist crap that popular media loves to make fun of.

And then Jason took me to a gay bar. Mostly because I needed the exposure to a different social scene. And that's where things kind of went down the toilet for me.

I was observing and people watching a lot. I wasn't really engaging in conversation so much as I was taking in what was going on around me. Really hot bartenders with their shirts off serving drinks to men that looked like they were old enough to be my dad; that one person that thinks he can dance but in reality looks really trashy in the process; the drag queen playing pool while Britney Spears blares over the stereo. And the more I observed, the more out of place I felt. There I was in a beat up jean jacket, matching jeans with a few paint stains here, and a dingy grey shirt. I looked like I walked out of the 1980's, and was surrounded with people that were more fashionable than me, more intelligent than me, and more attractive than me in their own ways.

As we left, I slowly got depressed. It was the oddest experience. Here I was pretty much going to have the night where I could probably be more like myself than I ever was before in any social situation, but I couldn't do it. I was forced into a social scene I've never been in, and all I did was observe. I could have interacted, but didn't.

A sporadic conversation with Jason led to my inability to drive and how I needed to get a permit five years ago. Greater independence, a better educational experience, and a more enjoyable social life were the rewards. But no determination was felt. No drive. Just the feeling of being more pathetic than when I stalled Jason's car in the middle of an intersection in the office complex, which I never thought was possible.

How can I night I was looking forward end up being so depressing? Most people would say because I let it. I'm sure you would.

Dreams that go BOOOM!

I haven't blogged in a while. You'll find out once I finish my personal project. But I had the strangest, and yet most symbolic dream to date.

I'm sitting at the dinner table with the rest of the family, and we are having are post-meal... whatever you want to call it. You know, mom and dad sit and read the paper while I am off doing my own thing. Not really a family moment, if you catch my meaning.

Anyway, there is a thunder storm happening outside. After a lightning flash, I begin to expect the roar of thunder with great excitement. As the roar slowly crawls louder, the walls and windows begin to vibrate. Nobody seems to notice but me. Then, at the loudest point possible in the thunder roll, every window in the house shatters! Every last one! In mid-fall, the shards of glass all disappear. Not one is left on the ground. There is nothing protecting us from the rain outside anymore, but nobody is affected by this. In fact, our behavior goes on as if nothing happened as the rain starts to find its way into our house.

I know the house is suppose to represent something, but I can't remember what for the life of me. I can only wonder what it means when this kind of event happens in them.

Sex Dream no. 6

This time around, it features a really buff "gentle giant" type of guy. Probably from the Marines if I had to guess in my dream. However, as nice and kind as the guy is, load him up with alcohol and his maturity drops to that of a frat jock with a bulk supply of condoms. Other than that, he acted really sweet. Hell, in the dream, he had no qualms about doing silly things like carrying me on his shoulders just so I can check high shelves for things I may or may not need. He also liked to walk around with nothing but a pair of knee-length ripped jean shorts for some reason.

In the dream, we left him in charge of the house as we were driving down to some mall in the heart of Walt Disney World. That's my nerd of a subconscious mind for you!

I Need to Get Laid

I think this has got to be the fifth time in a month's time that I've had a dream about sex.

In the dream, I'm in what I think is a college dorm but looks like my room with nothing but a partition added to it for another bed. Rather cramp, really. And I'm talking to a rather cute and buff frat boy. The conversation quickly turns to the topic of how long it's been since I last had sex. Which, if you really care, is going on about maybe four years this past August. No, seriously. I almost lost track until I had this dream.

Anyway, this frat boy ends up confiding in me that he is bisexual and wouldn't mind messing around. I know where my dream is picking up this reference before, because I had the same experience in Seattle. I won't go into that.

After I end up groping the frat boy, I end up waking up with the usual morning wood and nothing but my hands to polish it with.

If this isn't getting any more blunt in the matter, I don't know what is.

The Lion King On Stage - A Personal Review

It's been a while since I've done these things, but given the visual scope of the production, I don't think any kind of proper format could do it justice.

Like the song says, "There is far too much to take in." Quite literally, there was "more to see than can ever be seen."

You've heard the stories from those that have seen it. You may have even seen the photos or the production videos promoting it on the DVD. But nothing, and I mean nothing, compares to what you see on stage. Even for a tour company, the production is just outstanding.

Visually, the puppets, be them small or large, are just awesome. That's about as simply put as I can get. They are simple in design and mechanics, but at the same time just a joy to look at when they move. I found myself trying to look back and forth between the actual performers and their costumes. While this was a visual battle that I knew was a testament to what is suppose to be bad design, it works surprisingly well.

The performers themselves were great! Several times during the production, they made it very clear that that these were puppets, often having comedic moments between themselves and their puppeteer. This was more commonly done with Zazu, but Timon and Pumbaa were also guilty of this comedic break of the suspension of disbelief.

Unlike probably most of the families that were attending this evening (all of which were well behaved), I was familiar with the music from the stage production. But as beautiful as the music was to listen to, you truly get only half of the experience. Even some of the songs that everyone knows from the film such are accented in a way that truly evokes the emotion that the film lost somewhere in post-production.

This can be really appreciated in Can You Feel The Love Tonight? Visually, the entire stage is filled with costumes of the jungle flora rich in light pastel colors that are easy on the eyes and flow from one performer to the next. Then, they introduce not one, not two, but three pairs of ballet dancers. Two of which are in the air over the stage! While I went into the scene knowing full well what was going to happen (they do a slim-down version of the same aerial ballet in Disney's Animal Kingdom's attraction Festival of the Lion King), I found myself welling up with tears at the majesty that was presented on such a small stage. As cheesy as this will sound, I really did feel the love tonight.

There were no real technical glitches other than Adult Simba's microphone dying half way through He Lives In You. In fact, the only real problem were volume levels, as the performers had to fight with the three sets of drums that were being used. Other than that, everything went off without a problem.

What I will take away from this experience the most is this: the art. Whether it is the costume designs of the lionesses, the overall design of Pride Rock, or something as small as the birds kites on the poles, every prop was in itself a work of art. Very rarely do I see this in any kind of production that I've been fortunate enough to watch. But even the face painting on the performer who does Zazu was just simply stunning in its simplicity.

The bottom line is that if you get a chance to see this show on stage, GO! Don't delay, whatever you do. You'll be denying yourself, what I believe, is where art and entertainment meet.

It's a bad sign when you wake up feeling pathetic.

The idea of my arrested development has become a whole lot larger than just an idea to explore for the visual arts. In fact, the more it sits on the back burner as something to use and look into, the more it starts to boil over and burn whatever settled on the bottom of the pot.

I have trouble forcing myself to do what I know needs to be done. Usually, this is with just minor things that everyone else doesn't like doing in one respect or another (take out the trash, clean their bed, get rid of all the dust in the computer, etc.). And if you ignore these long enough, there are immediate consequences (smell, the computer not working, etc.). But not driving? Not getting a job? Not having a normal life? The consequences were not as immediate.

Until now. Now that I have money, I find myself being more budget conscious than before. Now that I have had a job, I find myself worrying if I will have to look for another one in about three weeks. And as my time in college gets closer and closer to the end, it ultimately means more and more advance classes that involve doing things off campus.

I need to learn how to drive, and I need to learn fast. I need to get that damn license, and I need to do it before it gets too late. And "too late" is coming up fast.

But as sensible as that sounds to me, I can't make myself do it for some strange reason. I rather sit on my hands and work on something else like this blog entry.

And to think, I thought stalling Jason's car in the middle of the intersection with a truck behind me was the lowest point I could feel.

Flatline

Last night, for those of you that don't know, was my debut show. What this means is that last night, I exhibited my drawings for the first time ever. Normally, this would be a very nerve-wrecking experience until the show is finally over, but much to everyone else's surprise, I wasn't nervous or excited for it. If anything, I was happy to be finally showing some polished and finished pieces of work!

The night itself was interesting. Having been on the other side of the fence and just looking at pieces from other students that were exhibiting, I can say that it was rather pleasant to be the center of the lime light. Socially, I didn't feel as awkward or out of place... much. But at the same time, I felt like I had a presence and that people were finally noticing me. Looking back on it, I can honestly say I think my ego inflated a little. That's a good thing, since I have none. Any ego boost will undoubtedly lead to a boost in confidence, which is what I need.

And as often as I've complained about this, I didn't feel like I was the odd man out for once. The pieces from the other students complimented each other and worked well with each other. Nobody was fighting for someone's attention, and everyone got a fair amount of viewing time from what I saw. For me, coming from several years of cartooning knowledge and a drawing background so steeped in it, that is a major plus.

However, as nice as that first show was for me, I still have my doubts about several things. Chief among them is this: Does anyone even remember what I drew and will they continue to remember long after the show is dead and gone? If they do, that shows that the piece was very successful. If not, then it's no different to when you see an electrical outlet spark. Exciting the first time around, but forgettable after you get back to your daily grind.

Sexual Dreaming

A few nights ago, I had another sex dream that have been in line with the more recent dreams about sex. The short end of the stick is that in the dreams, I don't get any. The dream from a few nights ago featured female prostitutes and Leonardo DiCaprio for some strange reason. Both of which I found unattractive in my dream mostly due to some kind of physical abnormality.

This time around, something strange happened in my dream. I dreamt about my cousin whom I was really close to for a while when growing up. His hair was red and in a punk style, but the facial features were all his. In the dream, he was just sitting in the corner smiling and I was on my bed talking to him about, well, nothing really. We were just catching up. But the entire time in my dream, I felt way too happy to see him. In fact, I felt like I was in love with him in my dream.

Dreams are suppose to tell you something, or so I'm told. Yeah, I know, ironic. In any event, I don't know what to make of this. This is the fourth dream about sex and or sexuality that I've had in less than a month! I never have dreams about sex this frequently, especially two nights apart from each other. So what could it all mean?

America: Freedom to Fascism

Scary shit, no?

Why I Don't Want A Wii

It isn't even Black Friday, and I've already made up my mind as to what I do not want to buy or put on someone else's pay check. Mostly thanks to some very logical decisions based on how budget oriented I was raised.

The Wii and PS3 have been in the papers for about two days now, mostly in technology news and Christmas advertisements. And even before then with E3 and all the various other gaming conventions out there, the hardware has been displayed over and over again. Some with playable demos, some without, and some just toting how much their hardware can push.

The games, while interesting in their own respect, are starting to be generic. Even the launch games for the Wii, which has a controller system so unique it will break down walls, doesn't have anything that captures my interest short of Marvel Ultimate Alliance (because of how the controller is set up making you have to actually use your hand like Spidy would when you are playing him to shoot webs). But that's not really enough. At least not for me.

There was a time when there had to be a game or some kind of obsession that made me get a console system. A long time ago, it was Parappa the Rappa for the PS1. Katamari was going to be the game that would have got me a PS2, but I ultimately sold that while it was still in the shrink wrap because I would never get the system for it. Now? I'm just waiting on Spore to come out.

The reasoning behind this is pretty much what was said in a recent Q&A that Will Wright had about the game. He was asked by someone in one of his last demos (I believe it was this past August) if he designed the game to ever be completed like a traditional game. The short answer was a "no." That being said, does that mean that his game is the last game players would probably buy given the scope of it? After thinking about the question, Will ultimately said "yes."

I've been wanting to retire from gaming in the hardcore sense and only play casually. I'm kind of failing at that with games like Roller Coaster Tycoon 3 that allows me to have such a nice scope of creativity, albeit fairly limiting based on the software and hardware. But still, it isn't the same hack, slash, jump, and finish game that I cannot go back to after I've beaten it. There are several games like that in my game drawer right now collecting dust. I'm actually unsure if any of them are still playable. Hell, I don't even know if my N64 works!

And yet, an idea I have been tossing around like some kind of meditation stress ball while I lay in bed is using my video games or at least the aspect and aesthetics of video games I grew up with in art some how. It supports the "easy in" theory of mine while not insulting the viewers intelligence. And as a contemporary art form, it could be worth quite a lot more than a $600 gaming system that will only depreciate in value with use over time. I should know, I have a Super Nintendo that can't be repaired and is probably only worth $5 on the open market if I really didn't care about it.

Another Disconnect

So I'm sitting here at school doing some work to catch up having, what would have been the amount of an average time, when out of nowhere, this sudden feeling strikes me like a ton of bricks.

Once again, I don't feel I belong here. I don't feel like I'm good enough to be here. I don't feel as if I am a part of what makes this place so great in my eyes because I lack that connection that other people have with everyone else. That level of social status. That something special.

I don't know when I started to feel this per say. All I know is that it started just before I began typing this up. And now, all I want to do is just go home, load up Roller Coaster Tycoon 3, and work on a fireworks show nobody cares about or will see unless I upload it on to YouTube. Besides, I'm done with what I needed to do here, so it wouldn't be like what I want to do now would hurt much of my school work. Just my
social life (which, if the stereotype holds true, means I have none because of the fact I type up a blog).

Irony on Election Day

I can't believe it took me this long to process what happened. But it makes sense that I had to wait about eight hours, as I probably couldn't form words at what I was witnessing.

It is said that statistically, more people vote for American Idol than they do for any political election. This has been backed with hard numbers released by the phone companies and polling stations, as well as every other news reporter during the height of the show's popularity. They even made a movie based around this idea called American Dreams.

While I blindly believed this statistic, I never really felt the irony about it until last night.

My mom got up to vote, but not in the local midterm elections for the state, but for Dancing with the Stars. She was so enthusiastic it was like she was playing a game she couldn't lose. Keep in mind that neither of my parents are registered to vote in local or national elections due to a superstition of theirs. (The belief is that once they register to vote, they will have to move. It's been proved twice in my lifetime.)

The entire time I was sitting here at the computer, I heard her trying to redial and get her vote in thinking how ironic it is that a non-registered US Citizen, a minority no less, is voting for someone she wants to win a television show instead of the important issues at hand.

Me? The negative mud-slinging ads drove me away from registering again this time around, as they did last year and the year before that and the year before that. It seems to get worse every year to the point where I need an outside source to tell me where everyone stands on the issues that matter. Honestly, I don't care about their moral character or what side of the House or Senate floor they will be sitting on. I want to know what their undeclared opinions are, and I would like to hear it from their own mouths in their own ads that they've approved.

Sunday Driving Session No. 3

Yeah, I know, I should have started this sooner. But to be honest, I didn't think about doing this until Janet told me I should. Why? Because it is a great referance to go back to when creating art like I stated in my last post.

So, what happened today?

Learning how to drive got a bit more frustrating, at least personally. The car kept either flooding or choking. It was eventually discovered that my brain keeps sending a signal to my feet along the lines of "remove both feet at the same time" when I was letting off the clutch. Jason thought maybe if this was more like DDR, it would be a little easier. There's something about that game that makes my brain function differently. Actually, all video games do that. Anyway, back to driving.

After several rocky starts and a few good ones, we pretty much plotted a course that involved going from one parking lot to another in a circut. Occationally, we would go inbetween or cut corners or even go the route in reverse. (Not with the car IN reverse, but the same route going the opposite direction.) This time around, there were no cars behind me. Just cars going the opposite way than me.

All in all, it was generally a good session, up until we did something that made me very nervous. We drove to Watkins. That's right, we drove to my college, passing the dorms, over the bridge, passing the garage where several students were working on their metal casting molds, and into the parking lot. The far side, as I felt evil with my nervousness. The only reason we drove there was because Jason needed to use the bathroom.

After he did his business in the building, he had me drive back to the parking lot where we switched off originally. He let me pick which of the many driveways I can pull out from that the school has (which is two, the dorm side and the school side). I chose the driveway that was closest to the traffic light.

I think I brought what happened next onto myself. The light was red, which meant I was in the clear as far as trying to get back on the main road. However, in my hurried state to beat the light change, I ended up stalling! Half the car was in the lane! Immediate panic took hold as I frantically tried to start the car and pull out like some player who forgot he was having sex without a condom. The car stalled on my second attempt, which only increased the panic. Finally, on the third time, I ended up squeeling the tires and rushing onto the main road. I would have checked my rear view mirror to see if all that rush and panic was for null, but I was too releaved that the stress factor had lifted for only a little bit.

It seems that with the exception of the first session, I'm going to have moments of panic like these every week. Jason pretty much confirmed that with several stories about how he or someone else would be in traffic and then the car would stall on them while trying to turn or go up a hill after a stop light.

However, that's not the worst of it. What's worse? I'm still driving without a Learner's Permit. Yeah, so that drive 5mph under the speed limit to the school so my teacher could use the bathroom was an illegal run. Screw the fact I was going the speed limit. I got lucky.

So, let's see. The main feelings of the day was frustration, panic, and suprisingly a sense of normality when nothing bad happened (i.e. when I was going straight with little to no problem). Frustration has been done in art, as far as I'm concerned, and in very cliche manner in my opinion. The escape for that is to put the frustration into context and produce a piece about the frustrations of driving or learning how to drive. Panic I've never seen done in art, so that should be interesting. Normality, especially in the context of driving, I don't think has ever been done. I'm sure it has, but how to do depict the norm visually without it being boring? That's the question that needs to be answered.

Dashboard of Ideas and Possibilities

Ever since Jason started to take it upon himself to teach me how to drive, several strange things have been happening. Not between me and Jason, but just in general.

The first thing that appeared to happen was a sudden feeling of genuine respect from those that I told this to. The people were nice before, there's no denying that, but it seems now that they are actually treating me like a human being. I even got that feeling from people that don't even know that I'm learning how to drive for the first time in several years! In fact, I'm convinced several people are thinking that I'm just learning how to drive a stick instead of learning how to drive ON a stick.

Naturally, with learning how to drive what amounts to a several-hundred pound metal battering ram, there is always that sense of fear or some kind of paralysing nervousness. I had that happen just recently when I had to make a right turn while a car was behind me. If memory still serves me correctly, the car died in the process and I couldn't get my sense of self back. That's right. I couldn't feel like myself for a while after being frozen in fear.

I'm told that I should use this experience to make art. There is a great potential there and a large amount of ground to cover. Everything from delayed rites of passages and the feeling of being lower than rock bottom as far as how pathetic you feel. Unfortunately, I have no idea where to start. Writing down my feelings seems to be the best starting point right now, as I'm very used to doing that. Not this past month as much, mind you, but it is still a normal practice for me.

The idea of visually communicating how pathetic I feel for being as old as I am and just now getting around to (re)learning how to drive appeals to me. It's probably going to be a very powerful body of work if I can explore it effectively. But I've never been good at evoking a feeling visually. My technique gets in the way. Or rather, my lack there of. However, before I can concern myself with my technique, I have to ask myself this: How the hell do I produce the feeling of being lower than pathetic visually using nothing but my experiences?

Appendix
Added @ 11:55
I guess I should also add here something that I feel needs to be said, but hasn't been able to be put into words until now.

For a long time, a lot of people have always told me that nobody is going to come down out of the blue and help you do the things that will make you a better person. You have to do them yourself, because the world is just that cruel. And for just as long, I refused to believe that. I refused to believe that the world was that heartless, even after being teased and bullied for years. Something that would have probably confirmed what was told me so many times.

But then came Jason, forcing me to sit behind the wheel of his shitty car illegally (I don't have a learner's permit still). And he is willing to take the time to teach me. I'm not a bother to him. I'm not taking up his time. I even asked him this past session if I was taking him away from something as important as sleep since he was yawning a lot.

To say that I appreciate his time and his willingness to do what everyone else said could never and would never be done wouldn't be enough. Yes, I appreciate what he is doing, but not at the level in which such words could truly show. It's as if we are breaking all the rules of what is considered normal by society all over again, only this time we are enjoying it for what it is and actually benefiting from it instead of just producing chaos. It's that crazy urge that actually is crazy enough to work out in the end.

It's a hard thing to explain. I feel more than appreciation for what he is doing, but what that feeling is I can't tell. Gratitude, maybe. Or some kind of social debt in which the words "I owe you one" need to be paid in full upon uttering them.

All I know is that when I'm sitting in his car trying to learn how to drive knowing that he is willingly teaching me, knowing that he wasn't forced and that he is practically forcing me to force myself to do something I've been putting off for 7 years, I get this feeling like something good will come out of it. Something better than sex.

The Flying Mustang

I seem to be remembering dreams more that don't involve death or watching people die through falling down an empty elevator shaft. Check out this dream I had last night. I'm turning it in for my next Creative Writing assignment.

I find myself lost in the foothills of some beautiful mountain in the western part of the country. The era is that of a romantic age when cowboys and natives both feuded and befriended each other. But I am a miner, a pan handler as I like to call it. And along the riverside, I struggle to carry my sack of things. The air had already grown warm with discomfort, and I was wearing nothing but a pair of jeans and some leather boots.

Without a sound, a young native atop a horse is before me. He wasn't there before but after a blink. He wore blacken hide in his tribe's design. I expected to find a headband on his person, but the expression on his face was that of a proud man who wouldn't stoop to such stereotypes. The horse he was on was a beautiful creature. Golden tan in coat, obviously from a pure bloodline that took generations to produce. The mane was as black as young man's hair. There was no saddle; just reins. He carried no baggage; it probably wasn't needed.

"Need help?" he asked in a soft but firm voice. I shook my head as I continued to struggle with the bag, which got heavier and immobilized upon the young native's appearance. He looked around at the sky with a coy smile. "You sure?" he asked again. "It's going to get cold soon."

And sure enough, as he had predicted, a cold wind rushed past my exposed body chilling me to the bone. I became immobilized much like the bag. Desperate for warmth, I tried to cover myself with what slack I was pulling the bag with only to find there was only enough to allow me to pull it along the ground. I would find no luck finding heat from my own possession.

From behind, the young native placed a hide jacket, blacken to match his own dress, on my person. The warmth was felt instantly. I stood and turned around to find the young man hadn't left his horse's back. With a nod that read for me to follow him, I walked towards him leaving my things behind. He reached out his hand, and I found myself behind him on the back of his beautiful horse. From this new vantage point, the creature was more beautiful than before; the golden tan capturing the light in ways that I never thought possible by a creature with such fine hair. Truly, this was a special creature.

And it was. No sooner had I secured my seat on the beat, I found myself riding at full sprint along the riverbank. And yet, at this speed, nothing moved. The jacket did not leave my body; the young native's long hair did not flap with the wind; the mane of the horse did no shift with every thrust of its body. The rush of the very air passing us was felt, and that was it. Looking ahead, I saw we were heading towards a large cliff face, the very wall of the river's beginning or end. But as we got closer, we started to lift.

The horse and both of us on it began to soar. The horse was still running at full sprint without any sign of fatigue. I looked to at the young native for some kind of explanation, but saw a pleasant smile of heavenly joy. His eyes drifted to me. There was no need to explain anything. Through his eyes, he told me to just take in what I saw. And what I saw was the most beautiful landscape this world could ever offer. Crags of rock formations forming natural bridges over white water rapids; golden mountain sides with forests so old their age matched their beauty from this distance; rich valleys the likes that no body could ever truly afford to purchase.

Sight after sight, I began to lose sense of where I was. I forgot about the young native. I forgot I was on a flying horse that had no wings and yet was able to run fast enough to fly. And as I did, the scenery started to change. The rapids were reduced to streams; the mountains lost their golden shine in the sun; the valleys became dark and uninviting.

And as quickly as the flight began, I found myself grounded. Stumbling into an empty concrete hallway and a tile flooring. I found myself in the modern era. I still had the same pair of jeans, but no longer was I wearing boots. Instead, I had a beat up pair of sneakers. In place of the hide jacket was an equally beat up blue-jean jacket covering a thin white shirt that was produced as an undershirt if not underwear. And on my back was a backpack full of things of which didn't concern me.

Picking myself off the floor, I walked towards the end of the hallway and was greeted by stares from the five customers in the gas station convenience store and the overweight clerk who look like he hasn't bathed in years. They were looking at me as if I had committed a murder in front of them.

As I left the gas station, a tow truck pulling in slightly damaged car into the garage. A mechanic came out whipping the oil off his hands with a rag as the truck came to a park.

"Another one?" the mechanic asked as the driver exited from the cab of the truck.

"Yeah," replied the driver as he pulled out a cigarette and lighter. "Same story, too."

"The flying Mustang?" The driver nodded as he lit his smoke and took a drag.

"Fifth one this month," he said exhaling a cloud of smoke that engulfed his head. All this I heard in passing as I walked down the gray and dark street that was lined with homes resembling shacks from a mining town about ready to go bankrupt. My own destination was home.

Upon my arrival, I opened a small closet that housed several non-descript piece of black clothing and a small gray baby bunny that found that area more homely than any other part of the house. For the rest of the day, I filmed the bunny on my old Hi-8 Camera fascinated by the fact that everything familiar to this little creature is still being explored as if it was brand new.

Sex as a Mall Commodity

Had another dream about sex but not getting any. Only this one was just plain odd.

I was in a mall. A nice mall at that. Nicer than the Green Hills Mall I worked close to over the summer, but not as bloated with money as the Cool Springs Galleria mall.

There's this store there that looks like your average beauty shop with a front desk and a partition between the front and the back for privacy. The entire shop is themed in an Asian motif, mainly the Feudal Era of Japan. The women working the front desk, however, are wearing Chinese Dragon dresses. You know, the ones that are so tight on a woman, they make her look like she has big hips, no waist, and a mono-breast? The ones that stop at the knees and then have a slit going up either side of the dress up to the top of the thigh. Yeah, those.

I approach the store, and one of the women asks what I would like. Actually, she flat out asks in a joyful manner what kind of woman I would like for "this evening." I tell her that I'm not interested in any women but something different. She immediately gets what I'm talking about, and in her broken English says there are none available. She asks for my contact information and hands me a card that looks like an job application.

Confused, I look over the piece of paper while overhearing Far East banter about me. I know they are about me, because the women there find it odd that I have not gone to the back yet. For some strange reason, the only English they say is the word "dragon." In my subconscious conscious logic, I take that as their way of saying gay sex. Being "interested in dragons" means that he's gay in their little gossip circle.

I return the paper, unfilled, and simply say that I'll be back later to check up on them to see if they get any "dragons." The woman smiles like a Korean shop owner, nods her head, and then awkwardly says the stereotypical "Thank you, come back soon" outro.

I find this dream odd mostly because of the fact that while it does count as a sex dream, there is no visual sex going on, unlike my last dream. It is like sex has become distant to me. Something I can't have let alone afford if I could have it. Hence the job application in the dream.

What I also find odd is the setting. The place is obviously a whore house that has been combined in my mind from two different eras. But even a whore house themed like a Feudal Era whore house would never be as open about being such a place, especially in the mall. And a nice mall at that!

As far as the ethnic confusion goes? I know what that means. It symbolizes the fact that I don't even know my own background thanks to being assimilated into the American culture. I'm not really Asian as much as I am American in cultural aspects. Then again, most Americans are not as American as the Native Americans.

Cockteasing Dreams

I had another dream that involved sex, only this time I wasn't the participant in it. The images are like that of a bad porno. Two really hot blonds, perfectly tan, are already nude and then proceed, mostly out of frustration, to fuck the hell out of each other like monkeys. Literally. Screaming and moaning and all that good stuff abound.

I don't understand dreams like these, but I really do wonder why the hell they are the second most common dream I have next to all the death and dying dreams. The logical side of me hopes that all those dreams are just my brain processing how much porn samples I watched over the last year or so. The more illogical side of me believes it is my brain saying that I need to be sexually active now or I'll never be much of anything (whatever that "anything" is).

Dreams like these demand a cold shower when you wake up.

Mindless Internet Test Results

Your Birthdate: March 31

You're a pretty traditional person. If it's lasted, it's probably good. You seek stability - both in your career and your romantic relationship. In return, you're very loyal and predictable. Which is usually a good thing. Without a partner, you feel lost. Being with someone is very important to you. Your strength: Your dependability Your weakness: You hate being alone Your power color: Midnight blue Your power symbol: Shell Your power month: April

What Does Your Birth Date Mean?

I wonder how accurate that is. Knowing these things, they are just vague enough to be specific.

Set Change Failure

This past week, I talked to several people about how I pretty much am so distant from all my work and classes it wasn't even funny. One person said that it wasn't so much depression as I thought but rather that I may be bored with everything. I definitely don't show signs of depression in their experience. A change of scene would be healthy for me, or so they told me.

This weekend, the family and I went to Virginia to visit my sister in a belated birthday bash. What this translated into was me being nothing but dead weight on the trip. Why did I go along? My sister requested it. Being her belated birthday bash, I had to go along or face certain sibling doom at the hands of the little ninja monkey that is my sister.

The change of scenery didn't really do much of anything for me. I came home yesterday and slept as soon as I unpacked. I woke up feeling no different about my current plight. In fact, I felt a little bit worse as I had a small hope that the trip would spark something back in me. Something that would make me my old creative self again and enjoy going to Watkins. Something that wouldn't cause a distraction or distancing from my classes.

Apparently, if I was going to get it this past weekend, I would have had to ditched the family.

I Got Nothing

Checking through my e-mails this morning, I found myself back in this familiar spot that provokes me into blogging. It's that strange location in the forest of confusion where you just want to yell out of stress, frustration, or for whatever reasons those may be.

It's pretty much that same spot I found myself several times when I realize I have no right to complain. It normally results in the death of the blog, which seems to not want to die unless it is by natural selection in the priority department.

The old school yard saying of "words will never hurt me" does not seem to apply to me. Words do hurt in one sense or another. They also confuse the living day lights out of me if used in a manner that just sends me questioning and deconstructing what was said.

I find myself wanting to go to the beach, sit on the roof of the car, and just stare into the horizon as the waves break. Nothing more, nothing less. It's probably why I always go out to the walk way behind the school that over looks the lake. It is as peaceful as it sounds.

I need peace. I got nothing.

Lone Wolf Artist

I had a mentally sedating day today. As such, several of my senses were either heighten or turned off entirely. For example, my sense of balance shut off on me temporarily at one point. Interesting feeling when one second you are standing straight up and the next thing you know, the room is moving to the left suddenly.

One thing I really wish did turn off was my emotion. Over the course of the evening, I slowly became a bit crazy, babbling sometimes while other times talking without knowing if anyone was listening. My sense of observation was not focused on the task at hand, but rather at the social setting.

Once again, I found myself depressing myself internally.

The social scene of the artist is that which involves several things. The first of which is beer or some kind of alcohol. The second involves being well connected with people, be it other artists or just drinking buddies. The third is actually putting yourself out there, which can be only done with the help of the above and maybe enhanced by the item above that. This is all a one-sided observation, naturally.

In any event, I don't seem to fit any of the actual social requirements--whatever those may be--to be an artist. It's strange. I never expected being an artist would require such a social network or any kind of social skills short of trying to sell yourself in the ways that most commercial business types try to sell the next great product. Once again, my foolish naive nature comes forward.

The Fine Arts is a business. One that requires little actual business knowledge but the same kind of social interaction between like-minded people. You are not so much selling a visual work more so than you are getting people to notice it and remember it if at all possible. The better you are at this, the more successful you become as an artist. The more successful you are as an artist, the more likely you will have some kind of social impact on the people that see your work. This can be helped with media attention, which is why I believe the more offensive the art work the better. People tend to remember offenses more often than the good and pretty things.

I don't think it's possible to survive in the art world without being somewhat connected. Things like MySpace help, especially with the "underground" or local art scene, but the most important thing about being an artist is not just making the art work but making face time as well. I, much to everyone's disappointment, still can't do that. The homebody part of my persona has become more of a hermit and a recluse. And what kind of artist doesn't attend their own gallery opening? Actors can get away with not attending the premiere of their film (or if you are like Al Gore, you'll make face and then just sneak out after 10 minutes into the film). Musicians can't be everywhere when their singles are aired for the first time. So, in that sense, exhibiting artists are required to make face as the location of their work is centralized. After all, how many galleries in a single area (not building, but area) would open up showing the same artist at the same time but with different pieces?

The doubt is mounting again. I feel like I don't belong again, only this time I've justified it on more than just the "I'm not a good artist" part.

A Little Update

The gaming binges that were taking over my life have tapered off (or back) into taking naps at all hours of the day. I'm also noticing a strong disconnect from pretty much everything. It's affecting my work. For example, I forgot to bring home my clay tools for my homework assignment of carving out a muscle torso for Figure Study 2.

The blunt honesty is also starting to come out in casual conversation. The stock and polite answer of "I'm good" to "How are you?" has been replaced with "I've been better" or even "Terrible." What does this mean? The polite mask has been coming off in a vain attempt of trying to connect with someone on an uncomfortable emotional level just to feel like I have some kind of justification for making it through the day.

Other than that, nothing really to write about. I'm just glad the gaming binges are tapering off now. Sixteen hours straight of nothing but Roller Coaster Tycoon 3 were starting to get bad, as images of the game started infiltrating my dreams.

Wanted: A VACATION FROM LIFE

It's getting worse.

Labor Day weekend, when I should have been doing my drawing assignment and reading up on my Latin American art history, all I ever did was play Roller Coaster Tycoon on yet another gaming binge. Four days of nearly 16 hours of nothing but trying to figure out how to theme a virtual park so pre-programmed people can enjoy themselves.

I'm obviously stressed about something and need the time off from life. I can't take a semester off either. I dropped the idea by my folks--they are paying for the bulk of my tuition, after all--but they took my need for a semester away from school as a want to just play games all day long. They didn't see it as a need for a vacation or some of kind time off so I can get back into not being so high strung all the time.

Just another reminder to everyone and myself that I need more than just time off. I need a change of environment.

Trapped by Addiction

It looks like my old habits are back in full force thanks to the trampling of my will power by stress and social detachment.

I found myself yesterday from about 05:00 to 21:00 straight in front of the computer trying to figure out the fireworks customization feature on RollerCoaster Tycoon 3 (which I bought the day before when I was out getting supplies for my classes). That's about 16 hours straight of nothing by me looking at a bunch of pixels.

Unfortunately, I didn't realize this until dinner when the system frustrated me to the ends where I was taken out of the game. But by then, the damage was done. Obsessed with trying to figure it out, I ended up not eating or even accomplishing any of my homework assignments! What little work I did before yesterday needs to be proof read and printed, but that's all I did.

I know something is wrong. I haven't had this long of a gaming binge in over a year. I thought I was about to quit this, but much like every other person's vice, it's a hell of a lot harder than I thought.

Something is bothering me. I don't just play a newly bought game for 16 hours straight if nothing is bothering me. I at least make an effort to eat if nothing is bothering me.

Resigned

With everyone running into each other in the hallways, everyone is greeting each other with the standard phrases. "How are you doing?" Good. "How was your summer?" Good. "How is your first week so far?" Good.

I can't say that I'm not guilty of doing this myself, but someone more observant than myself saw something outside of the standard answer.

Apparently, my mind has resigned itself from the idea of college if not the environment of Watkins to begin with. Why this is the case is beyond me at the moment. It's only been a week and already I want to quit? How can this be?

I'm going to go back to sleep to see if those answers can't come to me in a dream.

I got money. Now what?

This past weekend, there was an emergency in Virginia. My sister was sick. For those of you that don't already know, when my sister gets sick, she's practically dying. Or so she claims. It upsets me how often she gets sick knowing her diet and how small she is. Then again, I have my own characteristics that frustrate the hell out of people, so I guess it's only fair.

In that state of panic, Mom left with Dad to help cure her like it was life and death. I don't know why, but it struck a cord with me. Granted I don't get sick as often as her and I'm far from fragile physically. Emotionally is another story, but certainly not physically. But still, I can't remember the last time they bent over backwards for me like they did for my sister just this past weekend.

With them out of the picture for two days, I began to think about financial purchases. I don't know why, but it's been starting to be a new habit of mine ever since I got that summer job (soon to be Seasonal Job until I finally grow up). So, what did I want to buy now that I have money in my pocket to throw away? What else? Games. Specifically games that allow me to create things like Roller Coaster Tycoon. I had my eye on the third game in the series ever since I saw it from a Watkins alumni who disappeared off the face of the earth (but I found his MySpace, much to my surprise, when I was looking at a friend's profile).

However, as much as I would like to finally get that game before I'm another year behind everyone else, the smarter thing to purchase would be a shell for my no-longer-external hard drive from one of the eMachines that blew up on us this past summer. I want to turn it into an external hard drive for MP3s and the various extras and patches for those said games. The best part? If I shop around, it would only cost about 10% of what an iPod of the same size would. Granted I can't play it when I'm away from the computer or anything, but at least I won't lose the music like I have the last three times any of the computers I use decided it didn't like me.

Which leads me to the next problem! Since QuickTime is now being coupled with iTunes, I'm already half way to becoming one of the many people who have an iPod. Well, two-thirds technically because of the growing collection of MP3s from OCRemix.org. And while it is cheaper to just get the hard drive shell, I won't be able to enjoy the music when I'm working in class on those long projects where we have several class periods of work days or when I'm just hanging out in the student cafe.

I think of the stupidest things when the parents are away. I wonder if I'll ever grow up and be able to leave the nest without something horrible bad happening to me because of my indecision.

Final Summer Thoughts

My last day at work was 48 hours or so ago, and with that, these last two days have been nothing but a complete and utter reminder as to how pathetic my life was (and probably still is) before I had a regular and steady pay check.

My last few days at work were nothing really to report back on. Hence why I didn't blog anything about it. One oddity, however, I should have wrote on was the fact that I stopped a teenage couple from having sex in a theatre with a good size crowd. Upon further thinking, I should have left them alone. There's a side of me that must be sick to death that I can't get laid and is out to make sure nobody else does. As evil as that sounds, it's probably the reason why I stopped them.

I also find it ironic that the area I was suppose to work my last days there for the summer was closed due to lack of staff and lack of working equipment. A transfer employee told me that the popcorn poppers are old models. The new models wouldn't cause the fire that shut down the lower concession. Or so I'm told. Still, it's a bit ironic given the whole opening that concession stand was the General Manager's idea, and a lot of the ideas he's had have been back firing on him.

But that's all behind me until December.

These last few days have been a different story. Sitting in front of the computer playing online games and other habits that are responsible for my social solitude and other geek-like quirks has done nothing but remind me as to what my summer could have been like. Painful on the eyes and just as bad on whatever skills I had prior. Humans evolved into specialty creatures. That's why we have jobs like athlete and teacher and artists. But special talents can degrade without proper upkeep. Needless to say, with my first class being Drawing IV, my cartooning and even my sense of observation are completely shot thanks to the lack of practice over the summer. Then again, can you blame me given the fact I was pulling 40 hours at least at a job that requires no thinking at all?

Porn has come back into my life yet again, but this time it came out of being bored with the games I play during their slow times. With school slowly starting up for the country, the online games I play are starting to show their seasonal peak and slow hours. Interaction with other players means waiting until the schools let out or the college classes end.

That being said, I've been sitting on the idea of if I should continue with the current degree program I'm in or just transfer over to video game design like I originally wanted (but was rejected over due to my lack of a portfolio). It's a real interest, and I've talked to most people about what I should do. Some are saying to transfer, as a degree in the arts isn't going to help my chances. It will look good on my application, yes, but it won't help me get into the school. Others are saying just stay put. And others still are doing the research for me or telling me to go visit this site and that site.

Of the sites that everyone has pointed me to, most of them make me wonder if I should have gone to a technical college. The sites look professional and appear to be guarded by a language and lingo that is common to those in the field and in the know as to what this program does and how to use that tool. They are intimidating to say the least, but none the less informative about the use of technique and tools. Unfortunately for me, I won't understand a word of what they are saying until I actually get my feet wet in that field.

Still, after rediscovering my passion (or addiction) for video games in general, this idea is just something I've been sitting on for a while now. It's a scary thought, realizing that what you are studying probably isn't want you want to be doing. Then there's the debt and all the things that come with it.

We'll see what I end up doing after I talk it out with Terry and all my other teachers at Watkins. In the meantime, I need to figure out my new sleeping pattern. I got too used to not having to get out of bed before 07:00 thanks to my work schedule.

Fire in the Hold

Today, we had an electrical fire at work.

The plug to the popcorn machine in lower concession apparently had oil all over it. As a result, the moment I turned it on, the oil started to heat up and burn through the wires, the rubber protecting us from the electrical current, and even started to melt the metal in the plug itself.

From my point of view, things were going as normal as they could have for opening up concession. However, upon bringing out some of the food, I noticed the popper was smoking. I then noticed it started to smell of burning rubber when I rounded the corner. My manager was there, and she told me to turn it off. I turned everything off, but the plug was still smoking. I went back around to where the plug would be visible only to see sparks. I then saw a puff of black smoke.

I knew what was going to happen next, so I ran like hell.

For the rest of my shift, I helped the managers clean up after the fire department. Cleaning up the dried up chemicals that were all over the food, candy bags, and floor. After about three hours of being down there, I went on my break wondering what I was going to do next.

After my break, I was told to clean up the second popcorn machine. Not arguing with the General Manager, I did what I was asked even though I had a feeling we were doing something we weren't suppose to. After the other employees and myself wrestled with trying to get the second popper working, the General Manager ultimately sent us home due to health concerns.

What kind of health concerns? The people that came in for the evening shift were complaining about having headaches from the fumes that couldn't leave the building for one reason or the other. (My thought on this is because we turned off the circuit that controls the exhaust fans due to safety concerns. As a result, we couldn't properly vent the area.) Because I was down there cleaning up for three hours makes me wonder what kind of affect that may have on my lungs and other internal organs.

So, as a precaution, I and the others working with me at the time got to go home early. I then found out that several people were told to go home as soon as they clocked in due to the overstaffing issue now that we are down a concession stand.

Makes me wonder what I'll be doing tomorrow, since I was scheduled to work in the place where the fire took place for the next few days. I'm sure they will put me somewhere.

Debt, Debt, and More Debt

After my last entry, we went to Best Buy to figure out what to do about the computer that just refuses to function properly. We then found out that we shot the motherboard in that model yet again! This means yet another six weeks without a computer.

Or did it?

Apparently, when we were told this news, my mom said to go look at the computers they had on the floor. I didn't argue with her, but I knew what was going to happen. An impulse purchase on the scale I haven't seen before.

While it is justified in the sense that I need a computer for school work, it felt rather uncomfortable looking at computers that I knew we were going to drop the full price on then and there.

In the end, I ended up picking a Gateway computer with a 2.4GHz Dual-Core processor, 2GB of DDR RAM, and a nVIDA GeForce 6100 TV card. The price? Just under $1200.

The best part? Tennessee was having a Back-To-School Tax Free Shopping Spree Holiday (say that five times fast), which means I didn't have to pay for tax on the computer when we bought it.

So why am I in debt again? Or rather still, as the case may be? My mom says I now owe her the price tag. I won't have to pay her immediately since school is starting soon, but when I start working again, a portion of my pay check is going towards her for the computer.

Summer Trauma: The Overdue Update About Working and Technology But Not About Working Technology

06-12-2006

How many of you saw this coming? Good. Curious as to what I was up since the last post? No? Too bad. It's rather interesting.

Some short time after my last post, I finally got a job. On my own (relatively) and the first official one I can put on my resume of employment. Where am I working? At a movie theatre in the part of town most of the New Money live in. Yeah, I get to serve popcorn and clean up after rich people that are so pretty you can't fuck them.

As excited as I was going into it, the first day was hell. They just shoved me behind the concession register and said "follow this guy." My trainer was kind of an idiot. He just showed me the register and that was it. I somehow was able to weasel my way into ushering for the rest of the night.

The next few days proved that the whole "team" aspect of the job I was told about doesn't exist. I was closing concession, and nobody wanted to do their duties the first night. The second night I was closing, there was an employee working with me that all the managers trusted with their life. Probably was going to be a manager if he wanted to. We got out late because someone didn't tell the ushers that day they had to break down boxes. As such, I had to along with the only team leader that night. Everyone else left, outside of the managers.

Over the course of my first week, I got the hang of things. Kids movies that open are a nightmare, both concessioning and cleaning up after them. Kids don't know how to eat at the movies. I see now why in day cares, lunch and TV time are separate from each other. I also learned how to tell the difference between a popular movie and an unpopular movie simply by how much trash is left behind and which theatre they are playing the movie in. Generally, the smaller the theatre, the smaller the crowd, the less trash. I also learned we show several "art" films, most of which never generate any trash as at all. If they do, it's not much.

Interesting stories? A few.

My first day I got searched. I was helping my trainer turn in a travel bag into Lost and Found, but apparently all the credit cards disappeared, as well as some cash. It was policy to search the ushers because they don't trust us any more than they trust their customers. So why me? Why the new guy? Because I also handled the bag. After that, the movie theatre where this all went down had to be search and left unclean when the movie ended. Just in case someone left them in their by accident after their robbery attempt. In any event, that alone probably set myself up for a fall.

A few days after that, I was sent on the center register in concession. I had two customers snap at me and one family spill their soda. I closed my register as ordered by the manager. Apparently, after those events, my body language changed. With concern for myself, the manager put me on clean up for about an hour just to cool down. I don't remember taking any of those events personally; I come from a rather indifferent stance when it comes to people biting my head off for reasons I can't control. But apparently, the manager read it as such. After that, I was put back on the register for the rest of my shift with only the last minute movie patrons to serve.

My first official day ushering (Day 4), I was left alone after 15:00. One usher had to go to the place where you get your tickets torn, another had to cover for someone in concession. Unfortunately, for me, that day was a holiday weekend, and a big movie just came out into our theatres. As I was trying to clean the theatres, I panicked and radioed for help. No response. I was already late as it was, so I stormed up there and asked a manager in person for help. My help came in the form of a pair of lazy employees who would rather make easy money than work. I can't say I didn't want to be in their shoes, but then again even I know (as foolish and inexperienced as I was then) that work means work. Needless to say, I got nothing done and I stayed 20 minutes over my shift. The Shift Manager at the time was the only one that apologized for that. I left angry that day to the point where I took it out on my family.

After getting the hang of everything, I had to open the concession stand by myself. Unfortunately, for me, the day I did it was the day the popcorn maker breaks on me. Not only did I have to wait for the kettle to cool down so I can put back on a screw that was missing, but I also apparently forgot to put the nozzles on the soda until my first set of customers came in. When I saw another employee come in getting a soda for her cup, I asked in a panic for her to put the rest of the nozzles back on. This was the start of my over use of thanking people. It used to be that I said "I'm sorry" a lot. I now find myself saying "Thank you" to nearly everyone at work for things that are probably minor. Thankfully, my line had more patient people who were there just as soon as the theatre opened for shows that didn't start for another hour.

On a more positive note, I talked to a father and 11-year-old girl as they were getting their popcorn from me. Standard question is "what movie are you here to see?" They were going to watch Poseidon. Well, that movie is kind of a horror movie, and I expressed my discomfort in such a young girl seeing such a graphic movie. The father assured me that she's a horror movie fan. So, I asked, "What's your favorite scary movie so far?" Her answer? Amnyville. Yeah, she was going to be fine with Poseidon.

When Cars opened, I was in concession that Friday. Center register, which meant I would get a lot of impatient parents and bratty kids. Or so I thought. The most interesting even that day? A woman with blond hair and a tan that was obviously fake comes in and says "I need 12 kids meals." I jaw it hit floor. She explained that they are having a birthday party, so I rang up the 12 meals. I then turned around to four new employees who were shadowing and running food for us that day and announced that I need 12 kids meals ASAP. My line as getting longer as I asked what drink she wanted for the kids meals. After counting off a dozen cups and handing them to another runner, she gave me yet another food order. She was bringing her older sons, so she got two medium popcorns, and for the parents, four small popcorns and drinks. The order got so big that we had to use the counter space normally used for advertisements and post cards about in-theatre promotions. We even had to bring out a few trays just for them to carry everything to the theatre. All the while, my line just got longer and longer, with only two other registers open to get relieve traffic flow. After she paid (her total was $103, if you are wondering), I apologized to the next person in line. He said that it was quite alright, and that he was impressed with how I handled the situation given both the line, the time, and the extra help. From there on out, it was business as usual.

So what did I buy with my first pay check? Nothing. You would think that it would be porn, but all the sites I went to apparently don't ship to Tennessee. I wonder why? (Okay, I know why. It's because I live in a town that has a porn shop near a bar across the street from a church. Furthermore, gay porn isn't allowed here unless it features lesbians that are generally hot.) I also can't find anything on Amazon or eBay because, apparently, they stopped or pulled off any adult content short of the stuff that isn't porn like the documentaries of the porn industries I found. So what did I do with it? I owed my sister some money, so I cashed it in and gave her what I owed. I'm probably going to do the same thing with my mother and everyone else. Which generally means at this rate I won't be able to buy my computer for my art.

Which brings me to this next point in this long post from beyond the grave! Over the course of my first week of working, I've lost interest in my art work. It was a fear of mine that actually prevented me from getting a job in the first place. The whole "selling your soul to the all mighty dollar" scenario that all my art connection say isn't as bad as I thought it was. Unfortunately, now that I am working 40 hours a week (even if it is just cleaning up after the popcorn I help dish out) my creativity has taken a dive. And a sharp one at that. Any creative project I started before I got this job is pretty much dead, even on my days off. Instead of working them, I opt to sleep or figuring out how much my next pay check will be. My family has even started up talks of getting me to learn how to drive again during my days off simply because my work schedule doesn't fit as nicely as my class schedule did with their driving/work schedule.

It's like my biggest fear came true. The only reason I was able to type this is because I'm doing the laundry and thought "You know, I probably should tell more than just my family what kind of stories I'm experiencing at work." No creative thought has popped into my head, not even thought that involve the projects I had planned before I got a job. It's as if I have joined that 95% of art school graduates who don't do anything afterwards with their knowledge a year and a half earlier than expected.

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06-14-2006

I used my employee benefit to go see Cars. What kind of benefit got me to see that movie? I get to see any movie I want for free (provided it's not opening weekend, because of the General Manager can sell the seat, he will).

The movie was a fun ride, but I think I was the only one that was enjoying it with all of their characters and personality. I'll spare the movie review, not because it was a bad movie. Far from it. It's just right now I don't feel like talking about it.

It seems that movies only provide an escape for my family that lasts only during the two hours that they are in the theatre. Nothing before, nothing after. In fact, after the movie, it's back to business.

Seems like a rather strange "thanks for a free movie," you know? But that's the way they are.

There's talk about what the next movie we will see for free is going to be. Chances are it's going to be Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. At the earliest, Di Vinci Code. X3 looks to be out of the question at this point.

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06-17-2006

I am slowly losing respect for my fellow co-workers.

Friday, during the premiere night of four movies, I had the morning shift as well as the first evening rush. I was paired with people who obviously did not want to work at all. As soon as I was cashed in (I was in concession), they pretty much left to gossip in the break room. I did most of the selling and restocking, what little there was to restock. Once I had a dead period, I asked to go on my break from a manager. They said it was alright, so I went. Five minutes into it, I had to get back on the clock because apparently they didn't remember that my co-worker was on her break, and the person that was out in front wasn't cashed in to a register. What the hell?! Managers should know these kind of things before approving breaks! To top it off, I found out later that the person that was on her break was there for four years now. You would think that someone who was there would be at least responsible enough to tell me that they are going on break and to cover for her, but apparently she isn't that responsible.

Today? I was ushering and had two no-shows with my co-workers. The first no-show I can't complain about because I never worked with the guy, so I wouldn't know anything about how he works. The second no-show I'm a bit surprised by. This was the guy that was on top of things when I was closing concession that second night I had to stay until midnight. He even broke down boxes with me long after we were suppose to clock out. For him to not show up to usher seems a bit odd. Again, excusable since I know he's on top of nearly everything else.

For the morning shift, however, I was stuck with a fellow that was hired around the same time I was. Apparently, he was trained differently. He was also taken advantage of. His ushering experience has been strictly books. He never cleaned. So, I put him on it while I did walks. I helped clean the bigger movies like Cars and Nacho Libre when I wasn't doing the books. That's when I lost respect for him entirely. We had a spill, a massive one, and I told him to get a mop while I got the rest of the trash out of the cup holders and floor. It would be quicker if we divide and conquer. He insisted to just use napkins since he didn't want to get a mop. I told him that since he's going to get napkins at the concession anyway to just go ahead and get the mop. Then he told me to get the mop instead while he picked up the trash. I gave in and let him have the easy job. Needless to say, I was the last one out of the theatre because we wasted five minutes arguing over using napkins to clean a spill from a large drink (and those of you that know theatre concessions, those napkins can't absorb anything).

The only thing that help made today bearable was the fact that one of the new employees is a former Teamster. As a member of that union, he knows what it means to be part of a work team and how to work as a team. Seeing how every time I get put into a team setting I end up the leader (since, apparently, nobody likes to take charge), I know I can count on him. I also got help from the girl that I shadowed my first day on the job, who even volunteered to take over my walking duties for me without even asking!

It's nice to know that there are at least some competent workers at my job. I just wish we were paired up more often.

I'm at the point where I want to fire a letter off to the District Manager. I would take this to the Gen. Manager, but he doesn't come off as approachable in these kind of matters. Plus, I have issues with him and the rest of the management staff. He over hired from the looks of it, but he also spread us out way to thin in areas that are more important than the jobs that he claims are the most important. What do I mean by that? Rumor has it we will soon have to be signing books saying that we've checked the bathrooms every 25 minutes as part of our usher duties. As of right now, it's impossible for the ushers to check the bathrooms that often due to things like the new walk system and cleaning up after a show. An Assistant Manager said that we may end up putting someone on the clock strictly for bathroom checks. That's it. He said that was his job before at another theatre, so it's very well possible.

I'm planning a little social experiment on Wednesday, my day off. I'm going to think it through over the night and over my shift tomorrow, then run it by the Gen. Manager if I see him. If not, I won't tell anyone and just do it. The later being the better option so far. It will test the managers as well as the employees.

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06-18-2006

It didn't even take 24 hours, and I'm already a broken spirit wanting to quit so badly. I would too if I didn't already know first hand how difficult it is for me to find a job. However, if I quit, how do you think the manager of the place I would be applying for would take it?

What brought this thought into my head?

I was the only usher today from opening until about 16:46 when my mandatory break happened. Mandatory by law, that is. In all honesty, I would have liked to have worked well into my fifth hour, thereby getting the management in trouble for not being the responsible ones in finding me some help from one of the other employees. Granted we were thin already, but seriously. We have an employee roster of about 40 people! Couldn't someone get called in last minute?!

So there I was, all day, trying to keep to the schedule and make sure theatres were clean and walks where done by myself. Again, let me remind you that I'm the only usher working. Well, after I get a lot of these books signed to show that I did my walks, the manager asks if I checked the bathrooms. I told her that I don't have the time to do that and still keep all the theatres clean on time. She started asking me why, and another manager noticed a look of pain on my face. I was already overworked as it was, and only that manager new it. The other manager that knew was busy helping the other group of kids over in concession.

Towards the final leg of my time before my break, the fact that I was behind on nearly everything was starting to take its toll. I began throwing the bottle water and child booster seats towards the wall near the trash cans at the risk of having them break into a million pieces. I called for help twice for our big theatres, and this time someone listened. The last time I called for help, nobody replied until I went up there myself and asked for it in person instead of over the radio. In this panic, several guests noticed that I wasn't the usual happy and productive Regal Employee that they saw when they bought their tickets or popcorn. They asked if I was alright, to which I responded an honest 'No' as I rushed to the next theatre to be clean.

I cannot say that I handled everything as well as I could have, or that the managers gave me a big congratulations and thank you for a job well done. By the time I was able to take my break, I was about ready to cry with stress. Not only did I miss cleaning two shows after they let out, but I didn't do my walks for nearly every show that started after 13:30. I spent the entire 35 minutes huddled over trying to lower my body heat with an Icee, only to be told that I can't have those unless I bring a cup of my own now. I was using one of those free wax cups we are suppose to give the customers when they request for some. After finishing what I had, I spent the rest of the time huddled over myself in an upright fetal position. I got a pat of pity from a manager that walked by that knew my plight. That was about it outside of a conversation with someone that was clocking in as to why I looked like I've been through hell.

About that time the thought of just quitting came into my head. Since I started working there, I haven't had a single good experience that I can remember. Every time, something bad happens in one fashion or another. This entry is a testimonial to that. Where else would I log something like that?

As my break was about to end, another usher came in. She got updated as to what happened. About how I missed doing nearly all my walks because I was stuck cleaning three kids movies by myself, and about how stressed I was about trying to just be on time. Hell, I didn't even once check the bathrooms because I was that behind!

But the damage was done. Once I was out on the floor, my spirit was broken and I didn't care if we did anything on time any more. I did my job at the pass of a pack mule with a heavy load trying to carry it up the canyon hill. Not even the fact I had to take the trash out in the rain affected me. If anything, I was hoping a manager would see me soaked as I was pulling a trash can back to a theatre and just have more pity on me knowing that I'm doing the best I can now that they broke my will.

It's times like these I wish I knew how to get in contact with the District Manager. Then again, I wish the District Manager of Regal Cinema for Nashville was there today and saw me during both these states--the panic state of the morning and the dead state of the evening. I'm only one employee and very expendable, but still. This should have happened. The Shift Manager should have known that today being Father's Day, that the after church crowd would go to the movies.

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06-19-2006

"But I know, it's my damn fault" echoes in my head. Partly because Margaritaville is playing over while I type this.

Some time after my blog ended for the second time, Jason chorused me into getting a MySpace. (Notice I'm not linking to it.) I'm rather ashamed that I ended up getting one, as I'm not social to begin with.

Well, recently, my boredom and screwed up psyche found myself on the site surfing through the degrees of separation and what things I had in common with some people. I found a few people from high school and several from Watkins on there. All of which are more socially connected if not more evolved than I am in one aspect or another.

While I know better than to judge a person by the profile they present themselves (after all, how many of those are as honest as my blog?), my already damaged mentality of how real life works made me over react inside. I realized how little social interaction I get, both online and in real life.

And yet, as depressing as that is to me, I don't have any desire to be social. While I would like to have more friends and a close group of people I can call and count on, I have no want to go out, party, or whatever it is people do these days to be social.

Combine this with that death of the hopeless romantic in me that indirectly resulted in my lack of interest in the gay dating scene or wanting to date anyone period, and I think we have the beginnings of some kind of Lone Wolf Syndrome (LWS). I doubt something like this exists, but it wouldn't surprise me if it did. After all, we did have isolationists back during the days of World War II if not farther back.

It's odd being depressed about something you know you could care less about. Maybe that means I really do care about being social. Then why is it that I don't care about making friends anymore, especially knowing how the real world works now after a month at a real job?

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06-22-2006

I think I may have done something that I know I don't remember doing before.

Apparently, I offended or was rude to a customer on Sunday when I was ushering alone. Rumor has it that the lady was African-American and was asking for the General Manager's number to directly report me.

I have no recollection of being rude to any guests that day. What guest interaction I had was mostly concerned guests asking if I was okay as I rushed from one theatre to the next and the usual "is there a movie playing in here?" guest that comes in while I'm still cleaning a theatre.

The only time I remember being even remotely rude was during my last leg of panic attacks for being late with a co-worker. She wanted to know what time the movies were starting and I told her I that I had no clue. The tone I used was more along of the lines of a frustrated and depressed "why are you asking me this?" instead of a rude or offensive tone. At least in my head. There is a chance (and a big one apparently) that she may have taken it as me being rude or taking out my frustrations on her for a bad day.

In any event, the pebble thrown into the river Sunday is making ripples that nearly everyone that knows me has been asking about. And unfortunately, I don't know if they mean a guest or if they mean a co-worker. Everyone is saying 'guest.' I'm saying that I don't know and that I don't remember.

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06-23-2006

Al Gore Visits for 'An Inconvenient Truth' Premiere

I probably don't need to say much of anything given the title, but seeing how this is probably as close as I'll ever really get to someone of any power or money, it does warrant at least some attention.

That and it was the only time work was fun, so I need to log this to balance out some of the bad.

I opened the upstairs concession pretty much by myself. When help came around, the only things left were popcorn and nachos to make. The manager working that afternoon said to stock for a thousand, so I did. Ironically, we only served about 30 people, all of which were handing big bills in one fashion or another.

The premiere itself is not what you would expect. At least from a theatre worker's point of view. From the outside, it looks like a bunch of glits and glamour. From the employee side, it's just another day at work. The only difference is the clientele. Instead of serving the new money of Green Hills, we were serving the old and political money of the greater Nashville area. (Which, coincidently, included a fellow classmate of mine who I did not know was of money.)

Al and Tipper Gore were there. Their entrance was signaled by applause and cheers, as well as their exit as they left the lobby to go into the theatre. Their assistants went to the concession stands where I was to get their food for them.

And guess who got to fill their order? That's right. Me. I ran for bottle waters (two for Tipper, two for Al) and a medium popcorn with butter for the Gores. Well, their assistance, but you get the idea.

After the premiere rush, it was closing duty. The concession was only open for the Gores and their friends. Every other movie patron that night had to use the downstairs concession. Which was a mad house from what I was told after we were sent home from cleaning.

A security officer friend of mine said Al and Tipper only stayed for about 20 minutes max into the movie before leaving. Every other VIP there stayed for the whole thing. That's politics for you.

Much to my surprise, everything went off with little to no problems. At least nothing major like a popcorn machine breaking down or even running low on cups. I think I had something to do with that, because we were overstocked when all the clean up was said and done. And for an evening when there was press in the building as well as people that most of us will never shake hands with, I can honestly say that I had fun.

The only downer? No premiere goodie bags for the employees. Just a congratulatory "good job" from the General Manager. Weak, huh?

---

07-01-2006

A week before this post date, my computer died. Kind of a mystery, but I won't go into it. Basically, the motherboard is fried beyond repair. Mom had the bright idea of just transferring the data over to the desktop computer that my sister originally got for college but ended up not using because of the new wireless campus set up (READS: Because the college forced her to get a laptop). Turns out that motherboard is also on the brink of blowing up.

Thankfully, that computer can be repaired. But, as with most things in life, it comes at a price. Mainly, my first three pay checks.

Yes, I know, given how much money I spent on just repairs so far (estimated at $600), I am better off getting a new computer. The thing is, I wasn't expecting to buy one this soon. And certainly not one designed strictly for internet and play until SPORE came out.

In any event, I'm back to where I started six weeks ago. Trying to save for a computer that I can use for my digital art work. I guess that's how the pennies roll in the real world. Sucks, don't it?

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07-07-2006

It hasn't even been two weeks completely, and my addiction to the internet couldn't be more apparent. Unfortunately, it's been compensated with another form of technology I haven't touched since high school.

Nearly immediately after checking the computers in for repairs, I found myself playing video games again. Namely, LUNAR: Silver Star Story Complete in a vain attempt of getting my lost save game back. Apparently I screwed up somewhere, because I couldn't find the third Healing Ring in the Grindery. Trivial, I know, but my OCD kicked in when I realized this and I deleted the saved game I had seeing as how I couldn't go back in the game due to how they programmed it.

This impulsive reaction to not having a computer worries me.

Recent studies from British scientists show that the internet is reducing the amount of real face time humans get when communicating with others. Places like MySpace and even my own blog offer a way to communicate in a way not seen anywhere else before in history! We are now a global neighborhood, but it isn't as great as Epcot's Spaceship Earth ride made it out to be. Yes, we are communicating with each other, but at the same time we are distancing ourselves from real world interaction. I've known this for a while now, but it didn't become as apparent until after I heard about this report.

With work comes a new social scene. And with this new scene comes more new observations from this fool who is writing this. Basically, the blunt truth of the matter is this. It doesn't matter if I drive. The damage from my past has been done and there is no way (or personal interest at this point) for me to get a social life that everyone wants me to. Oh, sure, there's the whole going out to just hang out with friends angle I could use. That in itself is harmless. But I work with a bunch of teenagers, most of which are looking forward to turning 18 or 21. Most of whom already have an established social life I never had in high school.

And the more things stay the same with the more changes I experience. I still talk to people. I'm social, but not in the way most people are. I bring out the meaning of association to its most literal form apparently.

Combine this with the amount of time I spend on the internet, and you have a good nut case on your hands. Probably one for the text books if I can give myself too much credit with this problem.

But these past two weeks or so have shown me a side of myself that is starting to become all too normal for me. Over the course of the days, with work and playing video games, I lost interest in my art. I lost interest in generally everything. I just want to get money and waste it on technology so I can keep up with the internet (and maybe play SPORE when it comes out). Nothing more, nothing less.

A friend of mine (if you can call him that given what I said above) told me in an e-mail that a job would help me find purpose in the boring day-to-day routine of this thing we call life. While it gave me a sense that someone actually needed me in a strange way, it didn't give me that sense of purpose he was talking about. In fact, I think it did the opposite. I think the repair costs of the computers had something to do with it. I'm not sure.

The addiction to the internet is apparently too great for me to bare. My sister left me her laptop in my trust over the weekend as she goes out of town. Probably to still my addiction by giving me what I miss the most so that I'm not so tortured over the weekend when the video game I can't seem to complete in its entirety can't distract me any better than going to work for a movie theatre full of Johnny Depp/Orlando Bloom/Keira Knightly/Pirates fans.

While a part of me wants to go back on to all my online games I invested so many months and lost hours to, this new part of me is asking "why bother? Sure, you may have wasted about six months total on a cheesy online game based around Disneyland, but you wasted how many years sitting in front of the computer?" The answer is ever since AOL first came out and I thought it was the best thing ever. It was around the same time when Animaniacs and the first wave of Power Rangers were popular. That being said, I probably with just stick to message boards and find out what, if anything, that I missed and if said missed events were the kind that would send my collection habit into overdrive. I'm hoping that won't be the case and that it will just be like when Pokemon came out with another 150 creatures to catch. In other words, I'm hoping that I missed so much that I would be better off to just drop the game cold.

But online games are one thing. The message boards, e-mails, and even this blog are probably the root of my addiction. It's the not knowing what's going on that's killing me. How so? With these things, I feel a connection to a social scene that I don't have in real life. I feel like I'm in "the know" or some social circle similar to what I observe in real life and wish I could be a part of.

The only thing that makes my social scene pathetic is how the media portrays it. Unfortunately, if science can prove anything, it proves that the media was right in how they may my present socializing techniques.

And yet, this is probably the most honest form of communication anyone that will ever get to know me will ever have from me.

---

07-14-2006

Not having a computer and paying for its repairs from my own pay checks, which was originally designed for just socking away money if I could, has put into a very interesting perspective my thoughts on being a consumer now. Just try and keep up with me, as this train of logic is more irrational than most of my rants.

Last weekend, with the "fuzzy math" done in my head, I pretty much threw out all hope of ever getting enough money to support my art. At that point, my interest in art and in college was set at 'Get it done and then go into something you would like to do for the rest of your life. Something financially viable and with some amount of security.' The only thing I came up with is character design for video games. After I get my BFA (at least at this point in my mind), I'll see about submitting a portfolio again to the Seattle game design schools that rejected me the first time.

With that in place in my head, I threw all concern for saving for my computer to the wind and tried in a vain attempt at finding an online shop that would ship porn to my area. I found nothing every place I tried to order from, canceling one order in the process which caused that money to float in limbo for the next two months until it defaults back to me per bank agreement. Or so I'm told in the fine print of my Debit Card. It seemed like a lost cause until I found a site that ships via UPS Ground. Fast forward to yesterday, and I'm the proud owner of my first porn DVD that I've wanted since God-knows-when.

However, I can't say that I'm a 'proud' owner without feeling a bit unlike myself. Yes, I'm a gay guy in his mid-20's (Geez, already?), and yes, like most guys, sex and getting off are on my mind a good chunk of the time. But how the hell did buying and getting that DVD shipped to a region most won't ship to make me feel unlike myself?

To be perfectly honest, I started to feel like I was becoming like Dan. A black trunk full of porn and adult toys kept under lock and key? That was him when I was with him. And while my trunk has mostly traumatic items I don't want to look at with only two pieces of porn, a handful of dirty magazines, and some other 'tools,' It's still slowly becoming more like his trunk.

When I came to this realization, I remembered what Jason said about Dan given all that I've blogged and told to him in private about. And I didn't like the fact that I could be headed down that way simply out of being beaten up by life in general due to my own mistakes.

That being said, I hope that this was the first and last porn that I buy online in any form. I'm not one for being noble nor am I one to try my damnest not to go down a path I will ultimately take, but I hope to God I don't end up like Dan or do what Dan did to me.

So with nothing really to purchase and my original summer goal out of reach due to technical difficulties of the most annoying kind, where does this leave my summer job money? Tuition? School supplies? The monthly donation to Gaia Online? Maybe finally go on that trip to Disneyland by myself?

Who knows?

Work is starting to become less of something to complain and rant about. In fact, it's starting to become more of 'just a thing you do' kind of aspect that is a part of nearly everyone's life. The only thing that is making it enjoyable is the internal drama. Let me share at the risk of getting fired.

Several managers have quit or left for better jobs. Supposable, it has something to do with the General Manager and how he is running things. As of this entry, we are hiring for managers. As far as us underlings go? We are pretty much just going about the job as usual. No new faces in a while, but surprisingly a lot of the people we hired at the start of the summer are gone. Futhermore, several of the older employees are leaving as well. If I had to guess, they probably got better jobs.

So, yeah, in short, work has just become something to do.

The computer, as of this typing, is still out. I can't go on VMK and escape to my virtual Disneyland where I can design rooms and other places with little frustration that the real world offers (like friction and gravity when moving furniture). My sister's laptop is for messages checking use unless allowed otherwise. Naturally, because it's her laptop, she's gets mad every time I look at it with a gaze that reads like I'm wanting to make love to it longingly.

But my time without a personal computer has put into perspective yet another thing about my daily life that I didn't think about until I lost the computer and got the job. I spend too much time playing really crappy games for free thinking that they are the best things ever. Exceptions going to Gaia and VMK... albeit VMK does have some limited enjoyments as well.

---

07-15-2006

Well, this is interesting. Apparently, my work is in a bit of a bind. Somehow, we lost $2,000 of concession food in our inventory. Mostly candy, but there are some hot dogs and even soda cups.

Naturally, to find out who did it, the General Manager is talking to everyone about what is going on. If you confess to him when he talks to you, the punishment will be less brutal than if you lie and they catch you on the security cameras.

So far? Only one person has been suspended. Gossip with the co-workers is that he was just generally unliked by the other employees. I didn't like him because he didn't work, but other than that, I never saw him steal anything. Then again, I only worked with him once, so I don't know much of anything unlike the ones that work with him more often.

In other news that won't get me fired, I keep running into people from Watkins at work. Today, I ran into Coffey, who was standing outside the doors on his phone. He was probably going to see a movie. I also ran into Terry T., who is the head of the Fine Arts department. He was going to see Wordplay, and I ran into him while working concessions. Oddly enough, he said that he knew he'd run into me eventually at the theater I worked. I wonder what that means. Lastly, I ran into my ex-Dean as well. I kind of almost ran him over, as I was pulling trash cans out to dump. It's kind of freaky.

---

07-26-2006

The only thing interesting to point out today as far as work goes is the gross amount of misinformation involving the request for school leave. It got so bad that I had to just go to the General Manager to find out the proper way of doing it. Other than that, nothing really to report.

Why? Because my main concern right now is the computer.

See, it appears that even thought it came back repaired, it still doesn't work. I tried everything that was suggested to me and the more it refuses to work. At this point, we are better off getting a new computer, for which I'll be browsing for on my sister's laptop.

So what exactly is wrong with it? The motherboard for the model is apparently retired. Best Buy, to the best of their ability, put in a motherboard that is as close to the original as they can get. This, however, causes several system restoration problems. E-Machine has a chip in their motherboards that enables the restore CDs to work properly. Without it, we would have to buy Windows XP separately instead of using the system restore CDs.

Basically, without that chip, we are going to be out another couple hundred dollars or so just getting an operating system for the computer.

This could not come at a worst time than now. In a few weeks, my sister leaves for college yet again. This means that we will be officially without a computer. No computer means mom can't do her PowerPoint presentations. No computer means no internet as well. However, what I'm more concern about is that no computer means no way to write my papers on time and when I want to at home. (And as much as I would like to hand my teachers hand-written essays and whatever else they want, I know they won't accept them as college level professionalism at its finest.)

This pretty much falls back now on to my summer job. With the money I have, I can do one of several things.

The first option is to just get a laptop. The state is throwing a tax break holiday during the first weekend of August on all Back-to-School items. Of which, any computer under $1500 is eligible for the tax break. This means that by today's standards, I can get a computer that will run like a big type writer and can let me surf the internet without the 10% state sales tax. I can either pay it myself and own it or finance it off my mother.

Second, find a computer that I can use casually while giving access to the rest of the family. It's become evident that I have a problem sharing technology, especially when it works. Then again, so does my mom when it comes to gardening projects.

Third, I could just continue spending time and money trying to fix the desktop. Frustrating, yes, but who knows if the frustration will be rewarded. I'm hoping Best Buy will just hand me a new computer for free for all the trouble that has happened over the summer, but I doubt any retail company is that nice.

Finally, I could just do nothing. I could stop and just explain to my teachers that I am without technology. I could use the computers at school to the best of my ability, which would limit the quality of what written work is required of me. Same would probably apply to the research part of whatever paper I need to do this semester.

All in all, I was hoping for a nice and easy summer where all I would do is sock cash away while enduring what drama came out of having a job. I guess that's asking too much at my age.

---

07-29-2006
09:45

It seems that at work a lot of people are quitting. The water cooler and rumor mill are reporting that since the current General Manager started working, not only has the work environment become extremely strict, but people have been quitting left and right. A total of about ten people at the least have left for one reason or another. While some may not be directly connected to the General Manager, it still will not look very good on him should the higher up people review his preformance at our location. Then there is the missing merchindise mystery and the fact that we are loosing money and points on sales and quality check ups.

This leads to every work day being understaff. Recently, I had to usher the entire morning by myself. Thankfully, it wasn't as bad as it was on Father's Day.

To add to this employee crisis is the fact that the school year is starting up. While some people are still in high school, the majority of the kids working are going off to college. A memo in the break room said that management cannot give school leave to everyone. In fact, the rumor is that only the people they think will come back will get school leave requests granted to them. What does this mean? Some people may have to quit just so they can go to school. While this is not a big deal for the ones leaving, once again, this isn't going to look very nicely on the General Manager's resume.

Am I concerned about his overall performance? Not really. Hell, I've had dreams recently where the theatre shut down for one reason or another. (None of which will come true.) If anything should happen out of this, it could be that the old General Manager that everyone said they loved and liked to work under would return to her original post. At the very least a new manager would come along to pick the place back up to where it once was. At the worst? They shut down Regal Green Hill 16 due to loss in revinue.

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07-29-2006
21:21

Today at work, I had a very anti-climatic event happen. After telling it to so many people, writing about it would be rather difficult to do, as most of the emotion is dead and gone. But here's what happen anyway.

Around 16:20, in the middle of our rush at concession, a man came in and ordered an unusual order. Basically, he wanted a combo but wanted water in the medium cup instead of the bottle water we sell. In such case, we had to charge him for the cup. It's an inventory thing. All was going well until the person next to me finished.

The man walked off with his food allegibly not paying for it. Well, this caused him to get pissed off and he started dropping curse words left and right. After about five F-bombs, the young black man next to me said he would call his manager about the ordeal. After rounding the corner, the customer, who is white, said (and I quote) "You better get to work instead of smoking crack back there." A racist comment at it's finest. Then after a few more F-bombs, the man then said (again, quoted) "Tell your fucking managers to go fucking find me!"

And with that, the angry white man made a rush to the theatre hallway.

Later, upon reviewing the video tape, it turned out that a mistake was made on the part of my co-worker. In the middle of the rush, he apparently forgot that the man did in fact pay for his food already. My guess is that due to the complicated nature of his order, my co-worker probably just lost track of what he was doing.

This on his fifth day at work. Can't say that I haven't had a similar thing happen to me.

---

08-01-2006

The Last Entry... For Now

This past Sunday, a manager offended me. The blunt end of the matter is that she blamed me for something that she did. But that's the short story. The long story goes like this.

I was opening the concession stand when she came out to open my till. She asked if there was two people behind the counter. I told her that there wasn't; it was only me so far. After getting my bank into my register, I went about taking stock. I then submitted to this same manager my list of things I need. She hands me the key to the stock room, to which I automatically assume that means she wants me to get the stuff myself. As luck would have it, I get lost in the stock room, having no idea where any of the items I need are located. Half an hour goes buy and apparently a few customers are wondering what the hell is going on. The concession stand is open, but there is nobody back there! Why? Because I'm trying to find the salt that they want for their popcorn by myself. Naturally, I had no clue this was going on until someone came banging on the door of the stock room. I look out the door just in time to see another door swing close. I go out into the main lobby only to have a co-worker tell me that my manager is over behind the counter. I look, and she commands me to get back there. So I go about my normal concession business, which at this point involves apologizing to the customer for lack of salt for them to use. In the middle of this, the very same manager comes up and says to me "Next time, tell me that you are the only one up here when you need something."

What the fuck?! No more than half an hour before she asked me! As a manager, she should have known that right off the bat and should have got my stock for me so that what happen didn't happen!

Well, needless to say, that burned me up for the rest of the day. I was brought back to the level where I was ready to quit then and there. Several rushes go by and even my lunch break came and went, but nothing cooled me down. In the end, I talked to the General Manager about this matter.

Turns out, according to the General Manager, that particular manager is on thin ice. Apparently, she's either doing things that are unneccissary or is generally pissing off the other employees. Either way, the General Manager didn't sound too happy when I reported my issue with her.

Now on to the computer. With Best Buy moving to a new location, it appears that my time is slowly coming to a head. My sister and her laptop will be leaving in about a week, and if the computer isn't fixed by then, I don't have to tell you what will happen after that.

Naturally, we are looking into newer models as a replacement. The gamer side of me, however, wants something that can at least run SPORE when it comes out with maybe the Roller Coaster Tycoon 3 series at a good speed as well. Mom just wants something that can run internet and TurboTax. We both want the computer for ourselves for one reason or another. At the same time, we both want a good deal.

Unfortunately, I'm still in the market for a Mac that runs the programs I discovered I was so good at over the last semester. My summer goal, one that I gave up, resurfacing again. Mom has been trying to bait me into a deal that my sister already has going for her with the laptop. Mom pays, I pay back Mom whenever I work. Simple plan for those that want immediate gradification.

Honestly, I would get more gradification from buying my own computer with that summer job money. It's kind of like when I bought the Playstation with the money I saved back in high school. There's just something that feels good about dropping big cash like that on a purchase that you've been looking forward to for one reason or another.

For now, however, this will probably be the last chance I get at recording my thoughts. As such, I've decided to publish this post. My sister's laptop (much like the computers at the school) don't really like how Blogger does it's spell checking for one reason or another, so apologies for all the spelling mistakes you had to endure getting here. It seems what little time I have on the computer after next week will be devoted to papers and research rather than e-mail and cyber socializing.