A little bit ago, right after the Orlando attacks happened I think(Or was it Dallas? I can’t remember which act of terror it was anymore), I finally had enough of my facebook account. The noise there is unbearable at this point, and every single white person I know has lost their mind one way or another. When I was big into blogs and myspace and facebook and all that stuff I used to really passionately care about, I would add any person to facebook I had ever met in my life. I have come to deeply, truly regret this.
I left the account and added the 14 or 15 people I really care about on any level to this little island of mental health retreat account I had set up. I keep, every few days, checking back in to see if it’s safe to return but it is still a nightmare. There are people, I just saw this girl I knew in high school (white, liberal, wealthy. obviously.) defending these Black Lives Matter protests where they block highways.
There’s a particular video where this ambulance with sirens on is trying to get through the line of people but they mob up on it and keep it from leaving until the police finally come and it’s able to scoot away. The girl is there on FB trying to say, well, if someone dies because the ambulance was delayed due to BLM, that’s “justice” for the people the police murdered.
Isn’t that the same thinking that gets a bunch of cops shot in the face from a dude hiding in a parking deck? Isn’t that the same sort of thinking that some guy had going on that led him to kill a bunch of gay dudes at a nightclub? “Justice”? Do you think those people the cops killed wanted some random guy in a suburb of some middleweight city to die? For some kind of redemption?
I can’t understand it at all.
Anyway, the moral of the story is to not go back to facebook until at least after this election is over.
I used to say, and I’m not sure I don’t believe this anymore, but I definitely am not as loud about it, that as long as you believed in something, no matter right or wrong, if you made the effort to get involved or care at all— that was better than not caring. I truly do not know where I stand on that as of today, honestly, but I think the political climate in America is making people insane right now. The “believe this way or don’t be my friend”, “if you think x you are a bad person” stuff is off the charts right now. I think if I really dwell on it, I was probably a lot like that in 2008 though. I definitely went through a Ron Paul phase, I won’t lie about it.
I told someone a few weeks ago I was considering voting for Jill Stein (not unprovoked, they asked), and they lost their minds. If you can vote for someone besides Hillary you have white privilege! If you vote for anyone besides Hillary you hate America! Trump must be stopped! America America America!
I think overall, the internet has a net-negative effect on how people think. Every community, in time, either becomes a hugbox like most of tumblr, or essentially becomes a 4chan like chaotic paradise where no rules apply and everyone hates each other. Which, honestly, isn’t a lot different from the hugbox, except for the fact that the hugbox hates you and the wasteland people hate everyone.
Then again, maybe it’s just the fact that I’m twenty seven years old and I have no idea what I’m talking about. I know for a fact that the political climate in America has always been one of loud, scary noises because I’ve read a lot of history books that say so and when has a book ever been wrong etc etc.
I don’t know.
Oh, and by the way, Stranger Things on Netflix is the best TV show in the history of TV shows. Unrelated, but way, way more important.
I’m supposed to get a call tomorrow about whether or not I’m “REALLY” fired from my job. Maybe things will work out there, maybe not. I’m hoping hard that they do, but I’m so not in control of the situation.
That’s a thing I have never gotten good at, by the way. Twenty-seven years in and I still need to firmly grasp the remote. I never feel stable and comfortable unless I’m the one in control of where I’m at or what I’m doing.
But, at the end of the day, even that pittance of control is an illusion.
Applying for a full-time job while also juggling two houses and everything else. It feels like I’m completely out of control for my own life, which is true. None of the things I’m trying to do right now will be decided by me.
I’ve worked my photography job for about 4 years and 4 months, and earlier this week I noticed I didn’t get a schedule sent to me. I messaged the people I work with, called my boss, but figured, hey, if no one emails me the schedule then I guess I’m free to sleep.
Today I called around again, still no answers, until finally my boss calls me back and says “Yeah, sorry Smurfy but I had to take you off the schedule”
Like, oh well! LOL!
I ask why and she says she “did some research” and found out I missed some work a month or so back. Oddly enough, someone at work told me she was doing this and that the owner of the business we worked at hadn’t known if I was there or not, so he said I hadn’t been, but I actually was.
So I have been effectively fired from my job for not missing work but because someone unrelated didn’t give a shit and just said do whatever, man.
So I said, why didn’t you call me?
“Eh, I didn’t get around to it.”
Over 1,500 days worked, more than anyone else in the history of the company, and I wasn’t worth a phone call.
About four years ago, I may have written about it here, but I sincerely doubt it and I can’t be bothered to look, I was looking for an apartment. I had been living with TelevisionMan for awhile, but his parents were selling his apartment so I was out on the lam.
I found a listing for an apartment, one bedroom, spacious, AC, all utilities included, ~$400/mo. Can you imagine? What a deal! I was new to apartment hunting at the time and I was too stupid to see a bad deal for what it is, so I was all-in. I went to check it out. Got a date to look and there I was.
I went with my friend, Derek, to check it out. We arrived on-time, the guide nowhere to be found, until ten minutes later a dude drives up in, in my memory, a rather nice sportscar. I may be making that up at this point. An older dude.
He gets out in a rush, shakes hands, Morgan? Good to meet you, here’s our model unit.
Come on in, here it is, check it out, take your time.
It was nearly unlivable. I mean, for a house. You know what I’m saying. It smelled like a dog had been peeing into a butt-bucket for cigarettes for about 70 years straight. Doors off the hinges, shower is a Cronenberg-esque diarrhea demon, it goes on and on. Bare cinder-block walls, wiring literally hanging from the ceiling, on and on and on. The “AC Unit” is essentially a microfridge taped to the only window, whatever.
I was out.
A couple days ago, I’m out again. Apartment hunting with only days remaining before I’m homeless at this point, when what do I find on the internet but a listing for an apartment, $450, all utilities included and includes AC. (I keep noting the AC— it should be included that in Boone NC where I live AC is NOT common, it’s never really that hot here, and most places built before the mid-90’s simply do not have it.)
Well, golly! I then find a second listing, same exact wording, same contact (David) but with a different number. Huh.
That’s weird, and scammy sounding, but I contact both of the David’s on the off-chance he can’t write his own phone number and one of them is wrong. Who really knows, right?
The next morning, I get a text from David.
“1:15 sturday morning, 2462 rolling rock road c u”
I text him back, fantastic, I’ll be available then. But did you mean “Blowing Rock Rd?”
Alright, well this dude is 14 or stupid one, I can’t tell, but whatever. I then get a call a couple hours later from David’s other number.
“Morgan? Hi it’s David, you called about a viewing?”
“Yeah, but we texted just a few minutes ago.”
“Yeah, we set an appointment.”
“1:15 saturday morning.”
“Wait, wait, wait, can you verify your address for me? You seemed to have trouble with it—“
“Yeah its (blah blah blah) Blowing Rock Rd.”
“Alright, see you then David.”
“When you get here knock on unit two, that’s where I live with my mama”
So David lives in a one-bedroom apartment with his Mom, that’s cool, I mean sometimes you gotta do what you gotta do.
I look up the address, and nothing really shows on street view, but I notice something, it’s suspiciously close to that place I remembered, that I was getting increasingly nervous was the same unit I looked at before.
So I go out that night and look, and yes, it is in fact the exact some building. Same exact place.
The listing had said it’d been recently renovated so I thought, hey, let’s give this the benefit of a doubt, I’m kind of desperate, maybe it IS different now.
Saturday afternoon I arrive, knock on unit 2, a whale-person answers who I assume is David (Age approx 45)’s Mom. David comes out, says, hey, see the model unit, open the door,
and nothing is different. Same dog smell. Same arguing neighbors. Same bare block walls. Same wires. Same fury.
I nearly fell to my knees in tears. Is this all there is. Is it all just looking at the same apartment years apart smelling unbridled dog piss cigarette funk? Is it all just dudes living with their moms in a place without doors on the shower? Is it all just people texting “ye” for affirmative answers that require some level of detail? Is it all just old dudes in sportscars who sell toilet bowl apartment buildings to barely competent Aspie nutcases?
The moral of the story is: ye proly
I want to talk about this experience while it’s still fresh in my mind because it’s one of the rare times where I’ve felt real sincere happiness in a meeting with people I didn’t know (or at all, let’s be real).
I got Pokemon Go two nights ago, and found it alright enough. I was an avid Ingress player for awhile, and this uses literally the same map (but, plus pokemon) so, why not. I went out last night for a little and just messed around. I saw people clearly playing it but, I mostly avoided them. I did avoid them, I mean. Like out of my way not to talk to them just because fuck it.
Well, I went back tonight because I was obviously a little high strung today (see my pretentious post below) and I wanted to walk around. I pulled into the parking deck and I heard someone say “You playing go too?” but I figured they were talking to someone else so I didn’t bother. Then I heard it again and I thought, oh whatever just see, and he was talking to me. His name was Stuart, he was there with his girlfriend Faith and best friend Josh.
So, I didn’t want to at first because I wanted to just be by myself but I hooked up with them. We walked around a few minutes and I told them I had one of those items that attracts pokemon to a stop. We sat down and relaxed for a minute, and people started showing up, I mean a LOT of people. Just from everywhere. Whole groups of people. There were by the end about 25-30, all in little groups of colors and such. We bailed (which, kind of aggravated me because those items are hard to find and we still had about 15 minutes on it, but whatever). All night we were running into different groups, and genuinely had a good time. They were my kind of people. I don’t know, we clicked pretty quickly.
We walked around about 2 miles over the course of the evening, and I don’t know what else to say about it other than it was good. It was good. I met a couple other dudes, and they were cool too. When groups were there we’d be like, what do you have! and they’d be like, shit man I just hatched a Tauros! I found a rhyorn! Duck pond is full of psyducks right now!
This guy went running passed us earlier and shouted “BEEDRILL DOWN HERE!” And we all went chasing after him and all caught beedrills. People were sharing conspiracies about how to catch things, talking shit about gym leaders, teaching everyone the secret curveball throw technique, it was like being eight years old again. I feel gleeful just writing it down. I hope you can tell I’m not being sarcastic.
I get it, though. I get what they wanted with this game. I get what’s good about it.
I had a good night.
Grief Poetry Series (WIP)
So much to say, and so much to do.