Why Travel?

It seems like an easy question, doesn't it? It is one of the last things I have to do today before my last Study Abroad class here in the states. Write an essay, only a paragraph or two long, about why it is important to travel. My teacher even gave us some lead-in's such as "Do you consider yourself a traveler?" and "How much experience do you have traveling and in what context?"

Yet here I am, staring at a blank document screen in my word processor wondering what to write. Why travel? Why see any place at all in person?

I can't write a simple an answer that would be enough for the class. I feel the need to write something philosophical or something that only I would understand. And the odd thing is I don't know what that something I should write is.

I complicate too many easy things.

Bad Memorial Day

After nine days straight of work, the stress of it all is finally getting to me. I can't take any more shit from anyone else.

I've been yelled at by an old lady for asking if she was wiling to donate a single dollar from her hundred-dollar bill.

I was blamed for several people being late for their shows because I couldn't get their popcorn out fast enough.

I found myself approaching the line of sexual harassment in the workplace, thankfully stopping far enough to still be considered a joke by a goofy person. If you can even call me that.

And the worse part? I don't get time-and-a-half for working on Memorial Day.

Tomorrow is my day off. I plan on depositing a check and then organizing my thoughts as to why travelling is important. Until then, I'm going to wait until the sun goes down and relieve some pent up sexual frustration the only way I know how.

Theatre Torture and Habitutal Masturbation

Some title, huh?

This is the first time in the last six days where I finally got a chance to sit down and breathe a little. My manager scheduled me for nine days in a row. While I'm not technically complaining about it, I am feeling the work load's stress and just counting down the days now until Tuesday when I can get back to work on several things I've been meaning to do over the week.

That being said, I'm slowly starting to go mad with with the general atmosphere of who I am working with. It isn't so much that they are lazy employees who do nothing; my General Manager made it a point to get rid of those people. It is the fact that everyone, in once sense or another, that I work with is attractive. There are at least three people that I've come across in this new group of people that are extremely hot in one way or another.

There's one who is tall and lean, which I like.
There's one that is goofy but obviously sweet.
Then there's the one who looks like a bad boy but has a smile of gold.

There is a high risk that all of these twinks are actually jail bait. However, for those of you that don't know me well enough by now, there is nothing to worry about. I may look and float around them in a strange way, I won't be making any kind of move on them.

Which leaves me where? In bed or in front of the computer looking at porn rubbing off another one. Either the stress of work or just the usual sexual self-repression is causing a daily masturbation habit that seriously needs to stop. It's bad enough that I'm in my mid-20's and already forgot what sex feels like. Normally, gay guys my age would have been laid more times than the media portrays. Or less, if you think the media is a bunch of bullshit. But the bottom line is that I'm not a sexually active as my body would like me to be, which is bothering my psychosis or something in that brain up in my thick skull.

Today is Day Seven out of the nine days I have in a row. I'll be handing out tickets to Pirates and asking old ladies with hundred dollar bills who will just yell at me when I ask if they want to donate a dollar to a charity foundation, because they are seniors and they shouldn't be solicited for their money, even if it goes towards something to help little kids with cancer.

And to be perfectly honest, I wish that at the end of my shift I could hang out with one of my hot co-workers and get in their pants. But that's not going to happen even if I will it into reality.

$6 Short

Something strange is being done over at work.

The managers keep pulling people who are handling cash an hour before their shift ends. While this is perfectly fine for people who do concession, for the people that do Box Office, it pretty much is denying us a full day's worth of labor.

It's not just Box Office that's experiencing this. Apparently, whoever has to tear tickets in the evening is also experiencing this strange overlay in scheduling. However, it is only for their first hour on the clock instead of their last.

Don't get me wrong, it was fun the first few days to be able to clock out early. But now, it's just annoying.

A Teen Again?

Working around all these high school kids with similar work ethics to my own must have done something to me. Either that, or I'm starting to show the first signs of mental regression to an age when I was actually happy.

All day yesterday, I wanted to call a certain someone. I didn't. I kept hanging up my cell phone after punching in the number instead of pressing send. It's not that I wouldn't know what I would say or ask. It's that I don't think I deserve to talk to him.

This morning, about ten minutes before I started typing this, I was getting ready for the day when I noticed a series of strange red dots along the area between my eyes and my cheek bones. Upon closer inspection, I realized just how many zits I really have on my face. Hell, every pore on my nose has a black head I just can't get rid of no matter what I use to clean my face!

I'm not so much insecure so much as I am wondering what the hell is going on. It is like I'm 13 and going through puberty again! Not fun.

Empty Encouragement

It seems that I'm getting the blame for my own faults lately, and the hypochondriac in me wants to say that it's from everyone and that it's happening all the time. In reality, it's been a slow boil that has been going on for years.

The blunt of the argument is that I'm not doing anything. That I'm seemingly content with my bad situation and happy to complain about anything. It's gotten to the point where some people just accept it, pegging me as the most negative person they will ever meet in their lives.

And that's the part that bugs me. It's always my fault. It's my fault that I'm not doing this. It's my fault that I can't be like that. And to top it all off, it's my fault for doubting my own abilities.

I should be talking myself up. I should be out doing things that make me feel like the big man on campus. I should be doing these seemingly easy things that everyone else around me can do with no effort. And yet, to some people, I won't. It's not that I can't, because I'm clearly capable. It's that, to some people, I won't.

This brings me to the next point I want to bring up, and let me assure you that this is not out for pity points or anything of that nature.

How can I talk myself up and be able to do all these things that I am capable of when the encouragement I'm getting feels so empty it's non-effective in boosting my self-esteem and my already shattered ego?

"Oh, but what about all those shows you got in? Didn't that boost your ego?" It boost my confidence as an artist, not as a person that can live their own life on their own. How that is a baby step to becoming more independent? I don't know.

"But your job..." Yes, having a job is great. It is a steady source of income, and my own personal benefit from it is that I get to see the summer movies for free as long as I'm on the active employee roster. On top of that, I get money towards my art, my own personal entertainment, and other things that would make me more independent like my Student Loans (as was the intent with the job in the first place). But that hasn't done anything for my ego or self-esteem. Every time I talk about it, I feel like a dork afterwards for talking about my job and what I do. Hell, every time I mention it, I feel and fear that is the only thing I have to talk about because of my limited social exposure. And who in their right mind wants to hear about someone else's job day in and day out?

The point is that there are a lot of things that, when taken for the face value, could easily make me go "Hey, I'm cool! I can do this and maybe other things on my own!" But the sad thing is, they aren't.

When I was 10, I had every ounce of my self-esteem sucked out of me thanks to bullying and teasing and being the but of everyone's joke up until high school. That's the fourth through eighth grade, people. Four to five years! Once Columbine broke out, I was suspect number one because of my history. With Virginia Tech, I'm even more suspect now because there will be some idiots out there that will peg that on me because I'm Asian as well as fit the profile of potential psychopath. (Thankfully, nobody in Watkins is that dumb.)

I just now was able to recover from this lack of self-confidence despite what I personally was thinking all those years. Things like getting into art shows and getting a job, albeit by force, have helped. But, again, the effects have been minimal at best.

What I am missing is something I can't give myself. I can talk myself up all I want to the point where I end up like one of those egotistical maniacs that think their shit smells like roses, but people like them tend to be the most insecure people in the world. And I don't want to be that person that locks himself in the bathroom looking at the mirror saying over and over how great I am until I believe so I can face the crowd who says as loud as a cannon blast that I suck.

And the sad thing is I know I can't ask someone to do that for me, because the amount that I would "need" would make the person a Yes-man. People with Yes-Men offend me greatly, simply because they give of the appearance that they have to be right all the time. I rather be told what I did wrong than be told my mistakes are not mistakes at all.

So what does all this raving have to do with the above? You can't always blame me for my personal short comings. Some of the blame has to go on other people. I've done the best I can to my ability. It may not be the best that I am capable of, but it is certainly the best that I can do on my own. If someone wants me to do something that is light years beyond what I think I'm capable of, they are going to have to be one of those super men types that can endure the shit I throw at them. Because in order for me to do anything beyond what I am capable of doing on my own requires a delicate balance between force and the one thing I never really felt I had in the last 14 years.

Unconditional love and appreciation.

Regal Reg Returns

Yesterday was my first day back on the job at the theatre. New management staff, new rules and promotions, same theatre.

I was trained how to do Box Office since it was a slow day. Less chance of errors, but you still have to deal with every customer that comes in the door. It's actually a pretty mind-numbing position to be in since the crowd comes in waves based on show times. At least the customer turn-over rate is faster than at Concession, where I'm blamed for someone missing the previews simply because they have to have popcorn.

I learned that the ticket prices inflated heavily in the last month. They are now $9 for an Adult Evening show. If this is the case where you live, see if you can lie your way into getting a student discount. Until my managers become stricter about carding people, chances are that they will just take your word that you are a student and give you the discount. That's what I do.

I also learned that Matinees stop at 15:00, which is pissing off a lot of patrons. That means for most movies, you can only see one or two movies for $6. In fact, I felt bad having to sell a family of four (two parents, two kids) their tickets for $30 just because they wanted to see the last afternoon show of Spider-Man 3.

I can only imagine the customer reactions to the prices in Concession.

The smart ones quit and got better jobs as far as the employees go. The work ethic is actually better than it was over Christmas. Very few firings this time. Given the summer season of movies, a Now Hiring sign is up to beef up the staff as best they can. With Pirates 3 looming on the horizon and Harry Potter rounding out the summer season, we will need all the help we can get.

Much to my surprise, a classmate of mine is now my boss. It was nice catching up with him, but it was rather odd seeing him in such a situation. I'm just lucky I can separate the side I see of him in school and the side I see of him at work.

Other than that, this month will be my only month working for them before I leave to study abroad. I've already notified my managers (the ones that I know like me), and they are excited for me. Jealous? I bet, but at least they know it's coming. Being the good employee that I am, I filed all the paperwork the moment I got there. One month's worth of theatre work is going to be my personal spending money in Spain and Italy. I doubt I will break $800, but I'll be happy if I leave the country with even $500 to spend while I'm there.

Reflections in Shadow

With my sister home from college for the summer, the family dynamic is back to how it has always been. Those of you who have kept up with this blog know how that is. Those of you that are new and/or need to be reminded? Basically, she gets all the attention, and I have to swallow my pride and wait to shit it back out when appropriate.

Just a while ago, my sister got wind of the fact that the family dog is dying. This set her into a very upsetting mood that affected my own emotions. Sadly, it was a short-lived ping of empathy that caused a slight shock to the heart. Broken Heart Syndrome at its best: quick, painful, and intense.

As she went through the motions, I couldn't help but wonder why she cares about an animal she has pretty much abandoned ever since she was lead into a brick wall at the full sprint of the hunting dog. Since then, she has never really been around the dog. What few times she is around the dog, it is mostly to show the rare (but seemingly fake to me) bout of love towards it. She's never walked it, rarely feed it when she's here, and most importantly never played with it since the brick wall incident. With the exception of the playing part, everything listed was done by my dad. Hell, the kennel we often leave her in whenever we leave for a trip takes better care of the dog than we do!

The poor animal just sits there in the dark garage most of the time like a prisoner. When she whines, she is promptly told to stop by my dad. She is only fed twice a day and is lucky to have clean water in her bowl. Nobody really cares for her as they should.

But then again, who am I to judge? I'm just as guilty as my sister. I want to do something for the dog, but every time I look into her (now blind) eyes, I feel like I'm looking into myself.

Recently, I'm not being listened to. I feel like everything I say just goes in one ear and out the other. Whenever I do say something important, nobody acts like it is unless money is involved. They talk to me, keep a roof over my head and food in my belly, are putting through college. But like Shadow, I'm just getting the bare bones of interaction with my family.

I sit here in front of the computer most of the time like the socially-withdrawn nerd that I am. When I say something serious, it is seen as if I'm joking until it gets annoying. They take me places I need to go, but in the end hint towards the fact they don't like doing so any more than they like picking up after Shadow.

There are major differences between me and Shadow that I'm well aware of. I have the power to change this, but she doesn't. And most of the time, I feel like I have no power to change anything.

The one thing that we do have in common is this: We don't really know what love is. We know it exists, but we don't know what it really is.

I made an art piece about this in seminar. Nobody got it.

Obsession Turns Scary

I am in a dangerous place right now, and I need to get out.

It is no secret that I occasionally cruise the attractive guys I see walking the halls or hanging out at the cafe, but my latest juvenile crush has got me borderline stalking qualities.

I mean, hell, I found myself looking up his name on Google and MySpace just to find more information about him instead of doing the ballsy thing and actually talking to him!

What's
wrong with me? I mean, I know I have social anxiety, or at least some
version of it, but what the fuck?! Have I become so repressed that I'm
turning into this crazy stalker who can findvirtually anything I want
to by just typing in a name? Why can't I be normal and just talk to the
person instead of lusting over him like candy in the shop window at
some mall's food court?

I know this isn't a fairy tale. I know
that if you want something, you have to get it. But damn, how the hell
did I get so fucked up in the head to the point where this is happening?

I already have to deal with the consequences of my actions on this blog in real life. I don't want to deal with the real life consequences
of what I'm doing now, mostly because I know what kind of impact they
will have on me in the future. At least online, it's a matter of if the
reader takes me seriously or not. You can't really do that in real life
without looking like a complete nut job in one sense or another.