Familiarity breeds Apathy. And agar breeds...things of culture.

[gomi]

1:55AM. Familiarity breeds apathy. Apathy breeds inactivity. Inactivity leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering. Suffering is what you'll have on your hands if you read all the way through this...


gomi - an owners' guide. Part one.


Those of you that have the unfortunate circumstance to have met me in 'real life' (as opposed to what transpires any other time of the day) know me as...how shall we say politely... a bit of an introvert? I'm not here to tell you what you already know... wait. maybe... yes. Yes, I stand corrected, I am here to tell you what you already know. To what end, you may ask? Well... Let's go on that adventure together, shall we?


8:24AM. In the time it has taken you to read through a carriage return (or the modern day, computer equivalent), I have come dangerously close to passing out while watching the amazingly captivating "Van Helsing"... and slept for a total of 4 hours. I actually find this encouraging. No. Not the lack of sleep (and definitely not that movie), but rather, the fact that the first thing that I did upon my violently unwelcome return to consciousness this morning, was to return to this 'blurg'. As many of you don't need to imagine, my usual Modus Operandi is to rise, and the first thing I touch (after my junk, of course) is the power button on my Xbox 360®. This morning...something is different.


I went to bed around 4AM last night. Not quite 4AM. The toothpick did in fact eventually pierce my eyelid (the one I was using to prop the eyelid open to stay up so late. Stay with me here, People!) and I decided to go to bed just as Jack Hughman (yes, I know it's reversed) was beginning to change into a werewolf and fight the Big D. On a side note, I found this movie horrible. Horrible the first time I watched it, and horrible the 2nd or third time I've caught any section of it on television; piecemeal. Anyway, back to the 4AM thing.


As I extricated my flesh from the couch just in the nick of time before my epidermis started to become interwoven with the corduroy-like outer fabric (we took off the plastic cover, finally (and, off the couch...not...MY plastic cover...) I said to myself... (Self)... you should get up b4 9AM and actually write something in your Blurg. Something that people will be interested in. Something that will break down the barrier that you throw up that give people the impression you are a conceited, heady, arrogant bastard. Something that will draw others to you and assert your cult of personality.


...


... Instead I'm writing this.


So, upon my (inordinately large) head hitting the pillow, I made the conscious choice to NOT set my alarm. I said to myself (Self) (TBC)
(8:40AM - got up, poured delicious Kona coffee. Broke down and turned on Xbox 360©, (but only to use the Music Player.) Am currently listening to 30 Seconds to Mars- A beautiful Lie; chosen on a whim) )


(cont) you must WANT to tell the world about yourself. You must get up, without the use of artificial alarm systems. "You gotta want it, Rock!" ( I love Burgess Meredith)... And so I have. Here it being 8AM... and me waking with my first thought NOT being, "Let's turn on that POS game Crackdown and find that pesky last Hidden Orb!" (Do you know how frustrating it is to have found 299/300 hidden anything? Such is my life), but rather...share your joy. Encompass your burgeoning pioneer spirit to not come off to EVERYONE like such an asshole. And so here I am. With delicious Kona in my belly. And nothing but time on my hands.


...


Upon further inspection with a black light, I have found that I apparently DO have something other than time on my hands. Something that shows up a ghostly purplish/white under my CSI-like inspection. It also shows up on my keyboard. My sheets. Some random socks on the floor. And for some reason all over my current roommate's door knob. I'm choosing not to think about it anymore.


On asides - (and no, that should NOT be 'On Ass-sides'). If I were to ask someone that knows me well for some words that best describe me, I should think that one of the words chose would be 'Random'. Case in point - I don't know anyone that writes with as many parenthesis (and yes, parenthesis is an acceptable spelling of 'parentheses'. Point of knowledge, I usually go for the alternate spelling (ie, antennae over antennas... part of my early Latin studies, I suppose...or my aforementioned snootiness) as I do. It's very natural/train of thought for me. It can also be very confusing to those trying to listen, and heaven forbid, those trying to make sense of my written word. I do not envy you at this moment.


I think it goes back to my upbringing which included...probably anywhere of 4-8 hours of television watching per day. Today, they attribute (or... at least I do) this surge of ADD diagnosis with television consumption. As advertisers are constantly using their latest techniques (read - bag of trickery) to keep peoples', and especially the malleable young minds they market to, captivated, that said young minds grow accustomed to responding to bright colors, snappy tunes, and 30 second visual assaults that tell them everything they need to know about the latest Shrek themed Happy Meal® and free toy packaged therein. What this translates to, are generations of kids that have no attention span whatsoever, accustomed to being sensorially (yes, it's a word) assaulted and then moving on to

the next great thing. No wonder no one's read Tom Sawyer now days.


Back to the topic at hand. I think that my indoctrination and familiarization with television, while extensive, hasn't affected me to the point of this 'ADD', but rather taught me to always offer the aside. To make that comment that would wait for the in-house studio audience to be cued with the 'laughter' or 'applause' light. And believe it or not, that's what really goes on in my head. So as I talk...as anyone around me talks for that matter, I interject the weird, off-the-wall, sarcastic...sardonic comments I do. I don't expect a huge uproar from those around me. I just expect those others around me to feel/react the same way I do, snicker to themselves deep in their squeedly-spooge, and continue with whatever was being said. This isn't always the case, and it's hit or miss. Likely the first thing that comes to my head isn't necessarily funny. Sometimes it downright cutting...but still funny to me. I find humor in pointing out the inconsistencies and or non-sequitors that go on around me. This is a large part of why people have such a problem with me. I think at least. Don't you monkeys question the reality that goes around you? Don't you ever want to call a time-out and have that little voice in your head that's telling - they are lying, or - that makes no sense, or - they have NO IDEA WTF they are talking about, and bring that topic up? How do you get through the day NOT doing that? What's stopping you? I don't bring these things to peoples' attention because I like dissent for dissent's sake (ok, maybe a little) but because I CRAVE understanding of that which goes on around me. I'm the annoying fucker that will actually ask people 'What was that acronym you just used?' because I need to know. That will grate on me the rest of the day if I don't find out. Anyway. This paragraph is waxing a little long. Let's break it up into a more digestible length for all you ADD fuckers out there.

 

[gomi]

So, the person in my life (wow. that sounds gay). Let's try again. The person I know that's best at ignoring me (and no, that's not a bad thing in this context people, stay with me) is Sean. My buddy from college. We've known each other going on... what, 14 years now? (At what point does it not blow your mind to say things like 'a decade ago I was doing 'x'?' Note to self, at that point you are old. Roll over and take the long dirt nap Anyway, Sean is the best adapted to dealing with my own personally interjected ADD. He'll be talking and I'll throw in my requisite comments, and he literally ignores them. And, I know that comes across as a bad thing. But its not! I swear. You see the issue that it creates with some new people I meet, and every time I make a comment they need to stop, put it in their mouths and chew on it, determine whether what relevance it has to what they said, then look at me with that dumbfounded slack-jawed yokel face I've come to know only too well. It's because they don't know whatever obscure, indie, or just plain 'B' movie I've just quoted. (on a side not, I'm not an intelligent person (news flash! Don't tell Uncle Sam). I'm just a parrot. I regurgitate that which I've seen placed before me. Most time something you just said reminded me of something from the few dozen movies I have catalogued in my head, and I spit that which you just reminded me of out at the appointed time. Very Pavlovian. Some people have told me that I seem like a very intelligent person...these people are very dumb. They don't realize I'm just a Furby®. A tape recoder. A Teddy Ruxpin® with a libido.


Back to the topics at hand...again. Sean has the ability, through years of exposure (not the sexy-time kind) to my nonsense that he intrinsically knows what it is, identifies it in a nano-heartbeat, and ignores it summarily. I really admire this. And while you may see it as him ignoring me, I see it as him being one of the very few that actually 'get' me. Oh, don't get your panties in a bunch...Josh, Adam various others... Yes you 'get me', too. He's just been doing it longer
This of course came from my analyzation (not a real word, BTW) of my writing style where I fill space with parenthesis. A cacophony of sidebars, associations and afterthoughs. Anyway. That's a little about that.

On my predilection with video games, and the subsequent affect it has on my life - I play a lot of video games. Not as much as some (my current roommate for one), but much more than your average 30+ year-old. Why? Well let's see. I don't have to talk to video games. I don't have to humor video games. If I don't like a game, I can always turn it off. Change the game. Take a break at my leisure and return at the time of my choosing. If a game is giving me a hard time, I'll keep at it as tenaciously as I need to until I get by whatever part is giving me trouble, without the game telling me "I'm bored, let's go". Video games don't yell at me because I don't go to bed at a decent hour. They don't care that I sit on the couch in the same pair of shorts I've worn for the past 3 days as I spill hot sauce all over my nipple but can't wipe it off cause I'm in the middle of a match. Ok I made that one up... There's little that could stop me from touching my own nipple...much less if it's got a delicious capsicum all over it


Video games, although false, give me a sense of accomplishment. There's something to be said for that. Back when I was supposed to be doing a much grander job (theoretically) once upon a time, I was further charged with having to mow grass on this huge stretch of land. And at the end of the couple weeks I was charged with this (shit) job... I actually felt more accomplished that with much of the more 'work related' nonsense I was doing. This is because at the end of the day I could look out along the roadside, and say 'I did that'. It provided a sense of accomplishment much greater than anything else I was doing with its non-empirical results. That's a huge part of what I get from video games. The whole 'I did this'. The whole 'how many people can say they got all the hearts on the 'Escape the Death Star II' lvl in Lego Star Wars? Sure it plays to my ego. Sure it's a slew of data in an imaginary playing field that no one will ever know about in my real life. But it's important to me. Does it get me chics? Well... not so much.


I don't know how many of you go through to the end of your week and say, "what do I have to show for this week?"... And then... nothing. Nothing really stands out as having made any kind of difference in any way, shape or form. I'm the same way. But then, when after work I can go home and be able to say, "Hey, I made lvl 41 in the Halo 3 Multi-player Beta test"... it's, to me, a tangible result. Something I can hold on to and feel good about. Does that make any sense? This having been said, when I'm REALLY working... out and about 'making things happen'... I rarely even think about gaming. Thing is, those times are so few and far between, it's nothing I can count on, and therefore just a cursory event in most cases. A special treat. Up on your hind legs gomi, here's your treat.
On flattery - I was told by someone who's opinion (I think) I can trust, that I come across as arrogant. To which I bit my lip, smiled, and said, "really?" Like this is news to me. He then said that I wasn't though. That I was a kind, caring person underneath my gruff exterior. I found this humorous. I think I'm a very caring person. I like to pride myself on being a good friend. My definition of friendship may be different than yours though. I consider friendship and dependability.

If we've ever had plans to go out on a Friday night, and I've bailed on you at the last moment, you may regard me as a bad friend. That's not my definition. And mine is the one that counts 'What is it, then?', you may be 'boredly', half-heartedly feigning interest in? Well, my definition is more along the lines of, if you call upon me for a favor, I'll be there. If you say, to use the same example, 'gomi, I had 'X' go down in my life today, and I really need someone to talk to about it', I'll be there with bells on. Miss a night of sleep on a work night, whatever. I'd like to think that all of my closer friends know that about me, and just don't call me on it very often. I mean, how often have I had to say 'X, I need to talk about some shit in my life, and just need you to come along and listen to me as I get shit-faced'. Not very often, but it has definitely happened. The example that immediately comes to mind is when I walked in on my (then-current) girlfriend on the couch with another guy, and after I (calmly) sent both of them on their merry way, I immediately called Josh and Amber, and they came a-running. THAT meant the world to me. They dropped whatever they were doing, knowing I was having a 'bad day' and both showed up at my doorstep mere moments later. Things like that... mean the world. It didn't cost them anything other than time (ok, maybe it cost Josh a night's bar tab at Remington's) and it absolutely meant the world to me.

Back to flattery - so when this person told me I came across with supreme arrogance, yet was likely a caring person, I was immediately suspicious. I read once that people that are horribly insecure with themselves are pointedly suspicious of flattery. I think that applies to me. I DO NOT respond well to compliments. Why? Was I not told I was a super-duper kid? Mommy's special little yard-ape? No. Not at all. Believe it or not, I was a decent student. Never missed a day of school, honors society blah blah blah... And all throughout my childhood there was always Mom there, praising... giving compliments whether needed or not, and advice when necessary. So, I'm not stranger to compliments (even if it is from the one person that HAS to give them to you). So, while I'm not denying that I may be suspicious of compliments/flattery because I'm horribly insecure... I'm not sure if that's the only or whole reason. I think part of the truth is that I respond well to negation. To 'negs' if you will. If only in presentation. You may say. "gomi, nice job on X." and I'll smile and say thanks. But in my (grinch-like shriveled excuse for a) heart I'm always like 'why are they telling me that', 'I don't like it', 'I don't trust their sincerity'. I think this also has to do with my inability to GIVE praise (in the normal sense) to anyone other than the girl I'm dating at the moment, or small children..weird, huh? In truth, I'd much rather have someone present a compliment as a double edged sword. Something I can trust and sink my teeth into such as 'Nice job, Fucker', or 'Hey, good job not fucking that up'. And in my messed up mind, I actually see that as a much more sincere form of compliment. What does that say about me? I dunno. Masochist? It's how I've always been, and how I'll (likely) always be.


10:25AM. Got up, pissed. Washed hands. Went and turned the stove top on, and unenthusiastically cracked an egg in an un-preheated frying pan and walked back here. That's how involved I am in my first meal of the day today. Anyway, query - for the guys out there, don't you hate it when it's so cold that your cock shrivels and retracts so much that it's basically just a gherkin? And when your on the pot, it basically shoots out, over the rim, yet beneath the seat and douses the back of your pants, and the floor with your urine? Hmm? No? Just me? I figured as much. I bet you that problem is HUGE in Asia though... huge... Whole reason they have squat-toilets I'll bet...

 

[gomi]

This is the most time I've spent in front of a computer (writing) outside of some random work obligation in... years? I'm not sure how I feel about it. Part of my non-interaction with the rest of the human race (video games) is that I hate dealing with people I don't totally care for, for any period of time. I don't suffer fools well. And not to say people are fools. There's just a portion of society that you are naturally predisposed to get along with. And then there's the other 99% of them in my case. And this isn't a superiority thing... I am just THAT limited. If you want to talk Transformers, video games, comics, movies... I'm your guy. If you want to talk sports and politics... me? Not so much your guy. This may in fact prove to be a major contributing factor as per my ingrained inapproachability. What can one do? As an interesting side bar, I surprisingly CAN talk about religion. Christianity anyway. And I can argue either stance (pro/con). Interesting...if only to me.


After rereading this (only just the once) I've decided that it's worthless and unimaginative. I'm still going to post it, because, well...it's already done. I welcome your comments, for those of you that actually made it all the way through this useless diatribe. I heartily welcome your feedback. Seriously. I want to hear what I've inspired people to think about through my time on the laptop here. I hereby swear to allow any comments posted related to this blurg as you feel like leaving. Anything, ranging from, 'gomi, you are a flaming pussy and I fucked your mother last night (Trebeck)', to 'hey gomi, I always wondered if you were gay... now I know...'. Let me hear it. I'm in fostering mode (no, not the beer). If people actually read this shite, perhaps I'll be inspired to... put more 'ink to paper'? If not though. No loss. You're just reaffirming my inherent disillusionment with mankind. Dick...

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