Mmmmmm, Monday Mornings and Hobos

I always feel like a hormonal little tweenage girl whenever I wake up in a bad mood.  Usually there is absolutely zero reason for it.  None.  Sure I have classes and such, but so does everyone else.  So what causes my prepubescent desire to whine in the mornings?

Waking up to a jackhammer didn't help.  But that’s just annoying.  And honestly my life is pretty darn good.  (I will rarely talk about my own life in here, but deal with it for like two sentences because it’s relevant. … And I wanna brag a little)  I have a great home and home-away-from-home, awesome roommates, enough free time to climb as many things as I want (I’m a climber, in case that wasn’t clear and/or you don’t know me), caring parents, and an amazing girlfriend.  Seriously, when I start to complain and I think of what I actually have to complain about… I feel like an idiot.

And true, we all need to whine a little bit; we all have problems, and no matter how small they tend to matter to us in some way or another.  I think 50% of all conversations have to do with one side complaining to the other anyway.

If one thing ever makes me shut up, though, it’s witnessing someone who has SO much more to complain about.  Seeing a homeless drunk passed out on the grass at 4 in the afternoon in Santa Monica is usually one of those things.

And I have to wonder… how did they get there?  Where did they go so wrong that they turned out penniless, so far into their life?  What mistakes did they make?  What will they do when they awaken from their drunken stupor?  The judgmental part of me thinks they will just beg for more money for alcohol and continue the cycle. 

Another part of me wants to believe that they have just hit a rough patch.  Maybe one day they will start the next company able to compete with Apple and Microsoft.

Or maybe they’ll just get inspired and patent a new, incredibly powerful brand of deodorant…

Homeless people smell.

Nerds Can Wear D-bag Tanks, Too

Everyone is prejudice and if you disagree you are ignorant.

No but seriously.

I’m prejudice.  I’ll be the first to admit it.  It isn’t gonna stop me from getting to know someone, though.  The worst kinds of prejudiced people are those who let their initial judgment prevent them from seeing the chivalrous knight underneath the troll costume.

..Whoa that was mean.

Anyway.  Whenever I see a kid with a backpack so large it seems to have misaligned his spine, unfitted jeans, tennis shoes apparently from the 1980’s, and a gaze that pierces the ground so relentlessly it cracks the concrete, I immediately pass him off for a nerd.

Now, firstly, don’t call me a hypocrite too soon.  This will not prevent me from getting to know him.  I may judge, but I try not to avoid because of it.

Unless they have like… devil horns or something… Yeah, I’d probably not associate with someone with devil horns.

But, secondly, I have an extremely nerdy side as well.  I think anyone can find something in common with anyone else – some similar ground at least.  Just because I dress like a douche-bag doesn’t mean I won’t kick your ass in Dark Souls PvP.  Don’t know what that is?  It’s probably too nerdy for you.

I like when people break stereotypes.  When someone goes along with the predetermined “role” they feel they have been assigned to, it just fuels the fire of that prejudice.  And true, as I said, there will always be prejudice, but we can at least reduce it a little.

My friend Randy and I used to walk into Barnes and Noble after rock climbing.  We would be all pumped up and covered in chalk, wearing tight tanks and shorts, and we would get a coffee, find a table, and whip out the Hunger Games for an hour or so.

I wish I could’ve heard peoples’ thoughts on days like that.

“Whoa… Those guys can read?”

Because I think our generation was meant for more than the pre-assigned stereotypes of our parents.  We are fully capable of thinking for ourselves, or at least following those who are actually capable of it, and can make our own paths… or walk in the footprints of those who do. 

Hopefully the prints won’t be too deep by then.

Rejection AGH!!

I’m so afraid of rejection!!

But not really.

…Or am I?

What’s there to be afraid of anyway?  I think that most people living in trailer parks (no offense if I know you and you live in a trailer park… although I can’t think of anyone who fits both of those categories) are or were afraid of rejection.  You can’t really get anywhere without taking some sort of risk. 

And I know, I KNOW, you’ve heard that a thousand times.  And hearing it one more time from some kid in college ain’t gonna mean shit, but if there is one thing I’m learning it’s that in order to get absolutely ANYTHING worth having, you gotta risk something.  Whether that be your safeguarded pride, so carefully protected and sparsely nurtured through those difficult years spent in the intimidating halls of high school, or your heart, delicate and innocent, primed for some sort of razor-clawed creature to rip into it and leave you the scraps.

Those things have to be wagered at some point.  Because you win even if you lose.  Losing sucks, I am aware of this.  As a competitive ass-hole, I am UBER aware of this.  But you get something from losing, no matter what; sometimes you get more than you would have from winning.

You want an example?  You’re really that needy?  A little high-maintenance, but I guess I can oblige. 

When I was younger I wrote a fantasy novel.  I applied to probably 25 different agencies, trying to get picked up and noticed.  I received probably 15 rejections (the others I just never heard back from).  My very first rejection letter is taped to my door back home.  Every time I look at it I am reminded of how badly I want to succeed, how badly I want to – one day – prove to that agency that turned me down that they made a mistake.

Okay, well, to be fair, they probably made the right call there; I was fifteen and it’s highly unlikely that the quality of writing was halfway as decent as I thought it was.  But still!

Point is, no matter how much failing may suck, there is no reason not to try.

I sound like I’m preaching…

‘Cause, what the hell do I know, after all?

It’s seeming like the theme of these posts is leaning towards the fact that I feel like I’m 12 and don’t know anything…

Excellent. 

Diablo, Pokemon, and Real Life

I’ve been wondering lately when we were all given permission to be adults.  It seems as though our possession of maturity is an automatic assumption at a certain age. 

But I still feel like I’m 12.  Some days I catch myself driving and think, “Whoa, when did I get my license?  That’s for grown-ups!” But, oh yeah, I’ve been driving for 4 years.

I put my Pokémon cards on eBay the other day.  Maybe that’s the point when you know you’ve reached maturity; when you can sell your Pokémon cards with no emotional debate inside yourself, you’re ready for the real world.  Then the question becomes: Who the hell buys them, anyway?

And at some point we are all going to be chewed up by whatever college we end up at and spit out into the real world.  I think we have this idea that we aren’t gonna be spit up, but digested in some magical, transformative enzymes and come out already settled in our new, “real world” lives.  But honestly, I think that’s about as likely as a hippy at the Republican National Convention.

I’m halfway through college. 

Wait.

What?

…Really?  This isn’t middle school still?  But I’m…still raising my hand in class.  I still have reading quizzes…. I still fail reading quizzes!  I’m banking on Sparknotes for a large portion of my educational success for God’s sake!  And before you criticize me, you try reading the Odyssey, Beowulf, and Hamlet all in one weekend.  Yeah, exactly.  Shut up.

I guess my point here is that I’m still waiting for some spritely wood nymph to come twirling into my room one night and sprinkle me with Real Life dust.  I’ll wake up one morning and feel totally ready, totally prepared for everything the world has to throw at me.  I’ll seek it out, even.

At some time during our years in this melting pot of frat-y tank-wearers (I could be mistaken as one, I’ll admit), high-sock-sporting hipsters (I own quite a few pairs of high socks as well…), and nerdy, awkward gamers (My monk is almost a level 60 in Diablo, my wizard isn’t far behind, and my witch doctor is catching up) I suppose we are expected to discover what we want to do with our lives and not only commit to it, but find our place in whatever world we wish to inhabit after college.

But…how?