clear rants

There’s a girl who works in the Controller’s office across the hall.

The first time I saw her, I was dropping something off for her office. There was a new girl sitting at the desk with her head down. I murmured a polite “thank you,” and was ready to trek back to my office (we have long hallways). To my surprise, this amazingly cute girl looked up at me, smiled and replied, “thank you.” I say surprise, because this wasn’t just your ordinary polite-thank-you-smile. This was a light-up-the-whole-motherfucking-room-real-smile. You don’t get those from strangers too often. This began to become a regular occurrence. Every time I saw her, she would flash that heart-stopping smile and all I’d be able to do was grin stupidly in return.

After a couple repeat performances of the above, we started running into each other in the hallway or by the elevator. I’m not sure if you’ve seen “The Naked Man” episode of How I Met Your Mother, but I imagine each of our chance meetings to mirror that of Ted and the elevator girl: each standing and smiling awkwardly, afraid to glance at the other and the elevator brimming over with tension. It’s not as unpleasant as it sounds. But remember, this is how I imagine it to be. I’m sure she just thinks she’s standing in an elevator.

The other day, as I was waiting for the elevator to go home, I hear heels desperately click-clacking all the way down the hallway. The mysterious click-clacker was about to turn the corner and… my god, to see her in motion was a thing of wonder. She was a bit flustered, cheeks twinged with blush, but she managed to give a shy, embarrassed smirk and disclose, “I hate waiting for the elevator!” All I could manage was a knowing nod and a “HOLYFUCKINGSHITSHE’SCUTE” in my head.

This sounds all cute and everything, doesn’t it? “Just ask her out!” you may be thinking. But here’s the kicker: she is approximately three-quarters of a head taller than me. FUCK THAT SHIT. Ugh, stop laughing.

In a recent conversation with a friend, we revisted the many grandiose romantic events from my past relationships. While going through all of these with her, it occurred to me, in my next relationship, would I go to all the same trouble? Do two busy “grown-ups” in this day and age have the time and energy to plan and enjoy a great romantic event?

In high school and college, great displays of affection (I hesitate to say love because, really, how many high school and college kids are really in love?) were the norm. Walking to class, you would see girls’ names written in 20 foot letters in the snow. Boys could be seen shuffling in all directions holding single roses. The most creative and thoughtful gifts were planned months in ahead and constructed with the utmost care. There were secret rendezvouses and midnight walks through the park. Couples walked hand in hand everywhere. Unfortunately, you don’t really hear about such things anymore.

What happened to the romance? As we got older, it seems those homemade works of art have been replaced by single (albeit expensive) purchases from the jewelry store. Couples no longer walk together just for the sake of walking together–in fact, even errands are split between the two in an effort to be more efficient. Too often nowadays, an old-fashioned date: dinner and a movie is already considered to be abnormal, something to be anticipated. Is it because “grown-ups” are too busy to spare time on these romantic dalliances? Or is it simply just a matter of money being more convenient than thoughtfulness and effort?

When we were younger, our limited disposable incomes forced us to be more creative with our gifts. We were forced to be thoughtful. Last I remember, a dozen roses cost $60: almost three month’s income for a high school student. Instead, young romantrepreneurs made comprehensive photo collages and constructed meaningful and thoughtful gifts out of simple art and crafts supplies; they made the most of what was available. Now, on a milestone relationship date, all you have to do is stop by the florist on the way home, drop some cash, and boom, mission accomplished. The most preparation required is to circle the date on your calendar.

Were those romantic gestures of the past simply symptoms of puppy love? Are thoughtful and creative gifts simply unnecessary in an adult relationship? I don’t mean to say that jewelry and weekends in the country aren’t romantic. But sometimes, I think it takes more than just throwing money at someone to show them how much you care–that you really thought about what they would like, that you are actually paying attention to the relationship.

I realize I am oversimplifying. And I do realize that it’s the little things that count. In the long run, grandiose romantic gestures mean nothing. But they are memorable, and without them, I do believe relationships can get a little boring. So here I am, a “grown-up,” holding to all of my hopeless romanticism,  and hoping we haven’t seen the end of the homemade anniversary gift.

The elevator doors opened. There were at least 7 of us waiting in the elevator bank, and all we did was stare. You see, we were waiting for the express elevator.

The empty elevator stared us right back, challenging us. Dare we tempt fate and risk taking the local elevator? A man and a woman nervously coughed and ambled on to the elevator. The monitor told us the express elevator was in its way down and would arrive shortly. The rest of us stood our ground. I kept my eyes glued to the status monitor as the local doors closed. The local elevator we just ignored was only going to one floor: the floor beneath mine. I should have gotten on. As we all shuffled on to the express elevator, I watched as the buttons of the 3 floors below mine all light up. So much for express.

–

We were coming home from tailgating at Giants stadium and I had just filled up with cheap Jersey gas.  As I pulled on to the Turnpike, I was offered a choice: Express or Local. I was trying to make it home for the closing ceremonies of the Olympics so I went with the “Express” lane. Big bloody mistake. As I sat in approximately an hour of traffic in the Express lane, I was kept awake by watching all the cars in the local lanes fly by.

I have come to the conclusion that “Express” is just a way to trick sheep into thinking they are taking a more proactive and efficient route in life. It’s all bullshit. From now on, I’m going local.

“Ever the pragmatist.”

As far as I know, those three words have never been used to describe me. I am not known for making the best choices in life. I often go for the immediate gratification and leave it up to fate. I am also a stubborn sunovabitch. This much I know.

But perhaps it’s time to make some changes. I’ve had something on my mind for almost a year now. It’s an awfully sticky situation but I can’t seem to give it up. The logical, realistic part of me tells me to just let it go. But I can’t, because that would be the smart thing to do; and we all know what Clarence does with smart things.

You know what? Fuck it. I’m going to continue being a lackadaisical fool and continue waiting this out. I’m pretty sure the expiration date of this situation has long past, but I’m going to stick around like an idiot and let it blow up in my face. ‘Cause that’s how I do.

I generally display a sunny disposition. This is not a lie. I am, for the most part, a happy person. But some times… some times I find myself three toes deep in the darkness, looking back and wondering what’s holding me back from casting myself into it and letting its fiery, icy embrace envelop me.

There are moments in my life that stand out, striking because of their extraordinary sharpness of focus. It isn’t the vividness of the memory or the strength of emotion, it’s the clarity of mind that is arresting. There is nothing specific revealed, no grandstanding epiphany; it’s just a feeling of complete and unadulterated freedom of will. It’s an adrenaline rush. It feels as if I am driven from within; to what, even I don’t know.

It’s during these short-lived moments that it feels like I’m a spectator in my own life–twice removed from my mortal coil–able to observe all the little things that I had been previously too close to see. Things that seemed so important before are exposed to be just insignificant whims of the mind. I often seem to lose sight of the big picture: the overarching purpose behind it all.

But that’s the weird part about these moments of lucidity, I don’t actually see the big picture. I feel it. It’s hard to explain. I am not given a vision of what’s out there for me, but it feels as if there is something pushing me towards it. I know it’s out there. I can feel it.

I’ve been noticing lately that a lot of people have been coming to me for advice. This seems to happen to me in phases–phases, it seems, that coincide whether or not I am in a relationship. When I am single, it seems I am also a part-time therapist. The couch in my room has even been described by A as her “therapy chair.”

It’s no easy feat being a part-time therapist–especially when you have multiple clients. See, I’m a good friend, but when you’re managing three hysterical friends at the same time, the drama has a way of catching up to you. No, I’m not telling you to stop telling me your problems. But if I have to hear about how that boy did you wrong one more time, I’m going to have to start charging an hourly rate.

But when I think about it, it doesn’t make sense. Why do so many people come to me for advice? I am not wildly successful, I am not in a happy relationship and generally, I have no idea what the hell I’m doing or where I’m going. But people still seem to trust my judgment and advice.

I feel like a fraud when I dispense advice. I try to tell them that I am no better off than them, and that they should take it with a grain of salt, but they still keep coming back for more. Maybe I am just better with managing other people’s lives rather than my own.

Hi, my name is Clarence, and I’m addicted to video games.

I thought I had kicked the habit years ago. But the dragon has come back. And I have to chase it. My current addiction is Call of Duty 4, and it looks like I’m in for the long haul. I haven’t played this much since my glory days back with CS. How awful. How old am I again? And with Grand Theft Auto 4 looming over the horizon, it looks like I’ll be spending a lot more time with my 360.

A thought occurred to me the other day, though. Am I substituting video games for a girlfriend? I remember when I wasn’t single, aside from the casual game of minesweeper here and there, I didn’t really play any video games. But now, it seems like it’s all I want to do–perhaps, from lack of a satisfying alternative? I don’t know. But playing video games every waking hour that I am not at work sure takes its toll on my creative juices. I mean, what am I supposed to write about? The twenty eight terrorists I killed in one round? Great. You’re life is just chock full of fun times isn’t it, Clarence?

In other news, I wrote a couple paragraphs of something. It was kind of supposed to be a short story, but maybe I want to make it longer. Who knows? All I know is that it’ll probably never get written due to my sickness. That’s right, addiction is a disease.

Don’t worry, I haven’t lost my mind. I mean, shit, I posted there for over 3 years and I never coughed up a dime for those poor motheruffers. It’s really just so I can import all my xanga entries over here. After spending $4 for a month of premium, I went to export an archive of my posts/comments and lo, and behold, what do they tell me? I’ll have to wait a DAY for it to be made? When was the last time I had to wait for something on the internet? Apparently xanga still thinks it’s 1999. I’m glad I’m done with those poor bastards.

In other news, since I was logged in trying to get all this tedious shit done, I decided to check if people were still posting. THEY ARE. The audacity! I can’t believe people are still “blogging” on xanga. Grow up and get a real blog, people. Wordpress.com and Blogger.com are two fine options. Welcome to the 21st century.

Sometimes when I’m suffering from an ailment that causes pretty constant and consistent suffering, I get envious of the people around me that aren’t in the same agony I am. For instance, when I’ve got a condition, let’s say explosive diarrhea, I look around and think to myself, “These people are so lucky, they don’t know what it’s like to have to forcibly and constantly clench their sphincters. Look at them walking around so carefree.” Then in a fit of sudden appreciation, I vow to never take it for granted any more: the ability to eat solid food, the ability to jump up and down, the ability to have a relaxed sphincter. But three days later, I’ve forgotten the constant pain and agony, something else has wrought my frustration and wrath, and you know what, I take those simple pleasures for granted again.

I’m going through the same thing now that I’m on crutches. I look at all the people around me putting one foot in front of the other as if it weren’t no thang. And I am envious. Don’t they realize how lucky they are just to able to step into a shower? I have to freaking crawl into a shower. Ungrateful bastards. But I know in a couple of months, when I can hop, skip and jump to my heart’s every whim, I won’t be thinking about how lucky I am, I’ll be cursing the poor son of a bitch whose gum I happened to step in.

Alfred, Lord Tennyson once said, “It is better to have love and lost, than to never have loved at all.” I have to say, that for the most part, I agree with him. No matter how much it hurt to have the love taken away from my life, the time I had was priceless, and I wouldn’t give it up for anything.

I miss being in a relationship but something occurred to me today: how can you miss something you’ve never had? Would it actually be better to have never been in a relationship? To never have loved? There’s nothing to pine for–just an idea romanticized by society. There isn’t actually a personal memory you long to experience again. To paraphrase another cliche, isn’t ignorance bliss?

Can you really long for the touch of a lover’s lips if you’ve never been kissed? Can you miss the security of knowing that there is someone out there thinking of and missing you if you’ve never had such a person in your life? Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to disparage those who’ve never experienced love or those who’ve never been in a relationship. In fact, I may even envy you.

Unfortunately, it seems no matter which side you happen to be on, it sucks. Sure, many will agree that it’s better to have loved and lost than to never have loved. But what nobody ever asks is, is it worse to have loved and lost than to have never loved? It may sound like a case of simple semantics–just moving the words around. But it’s not the same. While it may be better to have loved and lost, it may also be worse. Think about it.