Photographic Problems

Click the photo for more images!

I've been doing nothing but photography things for my Study Abroad class for the last three days (including today), and as my luck would have it, today is the day that the shit hits the fan.

Originally, I was going to tell you all about my trip photos and pimp them out to get you to view them, but now? Not going to happen.

After first witnessing that the camera I was using had a severe light leak that ruined a good chunk of my pictures and then having to deal with flickr as far as uploading goes, Blogger decides that I was spamming my own blog and blocks my posts about halfway through my pictures. The only way around that was to provide a word varification, something flickr can't do from their end. This meant I had to do things the hard way by supplying the HTML code in the blog body and then supplying the word varification for the post.

Not fun.

It was at this point that I decided my photo blog is going to be pretty much like the photo albums we have laying around the house. Instead of having photos with some kind of description or trip story worth sharing with the pictures, the blog will now just be about pictures and nothing but. It's the only way I can compromise with their whole "You're spamming a blog and we are trying trying to make sure you are a human and not a robot who got into the system" security measure that they failed to announce in a way that even a blind person could see it.

Now there is apparently a way to turn the setting off. However, when you go to here, they tell you to click on the little question mark to get to the area where you can turn it off. Apparently, nobody in Quality Check noticed that the question mark leads you to the page that says to click the question mark to turn it off.

With all that said, the 90 photos that did make it are up on the photo blog for your viewing pleasure. Just don't expect a trip report from me about Barcelona and Venice or our day trip to Bilbao. It's just not worth the effort any more at this time, especially given the fact that nobody reads this dribble and the only reason I continue to blog is to keep my social sanity.

Adapting Lifestyles

I'm back from my time abroad, and while I could go into detail as to what I did and how much fun I had... Well, to put it simply, I feel like I shouldn't. I will wait until my film rolls to come back later this afternoon to do that. I mean, there are several stories I could share that are worth sharing, but the thought on my mind right now is rather confusing in the usual sense given what I write about here.

The way the class was designed was to experience the culture of Spain and Italy as best as we Americans can. This included things like meal times, when to go to bed, when to wake up, and how to get around. Needless to say, we got used to the schedule rather fast. Hell, at one point, we got upset because we missed our siesta.

I even changed drastically while I was there, doing the things Jason tried to get me to do but never got me to try! That's right, I went to a bar, had half a glass of beer (and let me tell you, they have big glasses there in Europe), and even went to a disco! There were even a few days where I went out on my own and explored an area wider than what I would usually walk around here at home! In short, I was actually functioning as an independent person making my own choices and owning up to whatever results or consequences they lead to.

Three days back in the states and back home, and I've already reset myself back to how I was prior to when I left. I don't know how it happened either. Part of me right now knows I need to take care of some important personal business, but the majority of me is being a lazy slob that is perpetually hungry and bored with life. That was something that never came up while I was in Europe, granted we were always moving or doing something every day as part of the class structure.

I'm sitting in a very awkward position now. Part of me wants that change that happened in Europe to happen here in the states, but the other part of me is countering that in the usual manner. Habit vs. want, and both are aiming for domination and control over what should be a simple decision for any normal human being to make!

And to make this matter worse? I feel like I have nobody to tell this to, the reason for which are so convoluted I wouldn't know where to begin.

Pissy Packing

I've gone from being insecure to just being plan angry.

My teacher said to pack light. The reason being that there are all these baggage limitations placed on us by a European airline we will be using to get from Barcelona to Venice. Limits like the sum of the bag's height, width, and length can't be over a certain number and the total weight needs to be under this amount. If you go over? You have to pay a baggage fee. It is anywhere between 10 Euros to 20 Euros.

Packing light is apparently an impossibility with my mother. She saw what I was packing, but immediately sent into a panic thinking that my normal dressing habits are not kosher for the living environment I will find myself in.

Please. I went through this past semester on only three pairs of jeans. That's right, sixteen weeks and only three different pair of jeans. Naturally, I washed them with the rest of my clothes. Packing a week's worth of clothing for me would fit into a high schooler's back pack.

Or at least it would. Now I have a bag appropriate for a family vacation to Florida and not a class in Spain where we are trying to not be the target of a pick pocketer.

But whatever.

I'm now stuck with my class bag, a camera bag, and a bag of clothing. I feel I've over packed, but I can't get around that. Everything in there now are all bare necessities. The number, however, is the questionable part. Do I really need two pairs of socks when I've gone two weeks before changing them normally? Will I really go through all ten shirts? Why did I even have five pair of jeans in there?

To top it all off, amids the anger, I can't help but feel even less prepared than I did this morning. There's no way I will survive the first test of my class: finding my way to the hostel by myself.

Pre-Packing Jitters

I do not leave for Spain for another 16 hours and already the insecurity is mounting like crazy. I never was this frighten during the meetings or even talking about the trip to people. But now, I'm scared out of my mind.

The Most Fun I've Had on the Clock

Click the photo for more images!

About a week ago, one of my more creative managers got approval for a self-appointed promotion/premire party for the movie Surf's Up. During this time, he caught wind that I know how to draw. It's no secret in the workplace that I'm studying art as a major. Hell, one of managers is a classmate of mine, so why would it be a secret! In any event, he asked me if I wanted to do some paintings on the window for this event of his. Naturally, it would have to be when I'm not working the floor. The idea of extra money made me say yes. On top of that, I would be doing something I would probably enjoy more rather than dishing out popcorn, carding kids trying to get into R-rated movies, and cleaning up after a two-year-old who doesn't know how to eat popcorn.

I didn't know how right I was in that idea. I worked for about 10 hours, which included a 35 minute break, and had the most fun I've ever had on the clock! No stress, no frustration, and the only time I had to deal with people was when they came up to me to compliment on how cute the images were.

In case you are wondering, this isn't art so much as is it graphic design. I even went through the steps of graphic design process. Granted my manager who came up with this idea was so easy going, he pretty much gave me free range to do whatever I wanted.

That being said, I ripped a page out of Tokyo Disneyland and proceeded to paint tiki graffiti all over the windows. I let paint drip and brush strokes to show; I tried my best to make it look like this was done by a child or at least have a child's aesthetic. Using Tokyo Disneyland's Stitch event as the inspirational base helped in achieving that look.

I came back the next day and took pictures of my work. I was greeted with compliments as to how great the Box Office Lobby looks by the managers working that day. Too bad I can't enjoy the fruits of my labor for long.

I leave for Europe in four days. Ten days of classic European art and culture! I'll try to post pictures when I come back of those as well. After all, my flickr account (as well as my blogs) need some attention.

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.