Even Tim Gunn knows...

...you don't fuck too much with Superman's costume!

This is the second part of Alan Kistler speakhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifing with Tim Gunn. Part 1 is abouthttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif Green Lantern. Gunn picks up on Guy Gardner's personality based on the clothes.

Fuck Off, World

So, taking this job has been a huge fucking mistake. I should have stayed in the North Bay comfortably miserable.

Acoustal Tunes

For the first time, I left a comment on the Facebook. Twice, actually. A few minutes ago my mother came down the stairs (I just rolled my eyes at myself there. Shit.) and asked me if I'd be my grandmother's friend on Facebook. My answer was that I'd have to think about it for a few weeks.

See, my grandmother is one of the problems I have with the social media stuff. It's not that she's part of it because I think it's great she's part of it and enjoys commenting on stuff 'n such. The problem is that she friends everyone. You own a kind of a dog she likes? She'll friend you. You enjoy extra butter on your popcorn? Friend. You want to pay less taxes? Obviously friend material.

So, lots of friends that she shares so many interests with. So many.

Oh, and then she goes around bragging about how she's friends with a guy in India. Good friends, apparently, because they both like dogs.

That just bothers me.

I know that people who are more extroverted (like everyone) will have more friends than me, but it seems to me that the idea of what a friend is is losing its meaning.

Am I the only one who worries about that sort of thing? Words losing their meanings because we use them in vague, sort of similar way to what they originally meant?

What I'm trying to say is that if I just went out on a thing like Facebook and had a thousand or so friends that I didn't know, didn't write, even blocked their updates, what does it mean when I call someone I know and like and talk with a friend? Does it mean anything at all?

After the Death of Dobby

Saw Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, part 2 on Sunday. It was a lot better than part 1.

The things that bothered me bothered me when I read the book.

I don't understand why they tacked on that 19 years later thing. The best ending was when they faded out on Harry, Hermione, and Ron after the battle of Hogwarts. I hate the epilogue for so many reasons. Maybe I'll explain better at some time in the future.

The other thing that really pissed me off was that the Slytherins were locked in the fucking dungeon! The whole fucking series was about giving people the chance to do what's right. It insisted that people who were bad could be good. It believed in fucking redemption! And yet the Slytherins weren't even allowed to try to defend their school? Fuck that! (In the book, the Slytherins were just cowards and ran from the battle. That pissed me off.) So, they're all just evil. So much for redemption and trust and fellowship.

Something I liked was the creepiest hug in the world. Great moment.

"One loyal friend is worth ten thousand relatives."

---Euripides

I just added some people to my Facebook and disregarded a whole lot of others. I feel like I'm a dick.

Okay, I know I'm a dick, but this whole social media thing feels like it's built up of everyone just "friending" everyone who asks. I'm going to do my best to just massively limit myself. Most people won't care what I do anyway. Right?

Fuck. I hate so many things right now that go beyond the usual.

"...the inablity to construct a future."

---Rollo May

I got to work on Friday, pulled out the schedule binder, and took a close look at it. Everything looked good. All posts were filled through the next Saturday. With the exception of a few holes in the schedule, the rest of the month looked good. Nothing to much to worry about. The only thing I had to worry about on Friday was the suicide watch going on in back, and I couldn't take care of it until the guy was seen by a psychiatrist. I thought that if I got everything done, I'd be able to check out early. Why sit around doing nothing at work when I can sit around doing nothing somewhere I don't hate?

The day before, when I got back from work, there was a letter from one of the agencies I'd applied to. I mailed out the application on Tuesday, but I'd applied there several times in the weeks before. I immediately ripped the envelope open and read the short paragraph. Basically, it said that they are looking for the most qualified applicants and I am not going to be interviewed. When I checked my e-mail I had a nearly identical e-mail from a different agency. It's nice to know that after five year and ten months I'm still not qualified to promote. The worst thing was that one of the agencies that turned me down for an interview is a place that I actually believe in what they do. It's a place that even if I hate my job I'd be working on something that I think is good and right and helpful and important.

My mood was a force of darkness surrounding me because when people asked me how I was doing, I told them that I was upset and disappointed. Of course they asked me why and, against my normal operating procedure, I told them. All of them offered to help me in any way they could. How the fuck could they help me? They're not the ones who refuse to give me an interview. They don't have the power to call these agencies and insist they give me a chance. They can't help me! Sure, if I get an interview they'll give me a good recommendation, but it's unhelpful right now and doesn't make me feel better, just more frustrated.

Is it so wrong, oh bastard asshole force of the universe, for me to get an interview? If I'm going to fail, I'd like to fail on my own merits. Give me a fucking chance! Let me put on my long sleeved shirt and a tie with stripes and give it a shot. Let me try to get closed minded assholes to open up. Let me try to convince them that even though I'm a fat, piece-of-shit schlub I'm worth taking a chance on. And if I fail, at least I failed trying. And if it's wrong, jackass universe, why? Why? Just why?

At tenish, I called back to find out about the suicide watch. The guy was with the doctor. I called back after ten-thirty and the watch was on. I called people at home. I called nurse registries. I called people at the facility. I walked around and asked people in person to take a shift or two. I sat on my overblown ass and waited for four-and-a-half hours to hear from people. Out of nine shifts, I filled two. Both, fortunately on Friday. And I wasted a day at work bored. I sat and did nothing. I doodled. I read some fan-fic that I'd sent to myself a while ago and actually finished reading weeks ago. I did nothing.

And all this makes me want is something horrible.

One of the people I talked to tried to pull the bullshit, "This stuff happens for a reason." on me. I don't believe in that anymore, and I told her so. I'm so careful in my life, so guarded, that really bad shit doesn't happen to me. I don't let it. I don't allow myself to get into those kinds of positions. Unless one of my parents dies in the coming week and I'm here to help the other parent, then I don't see how me getting disappointed at failing a job interview warrants the fucking universe keeping me away from these interviews "for a reason." A vague, indefinable, pointless fucking reason.

And my weekend has been me in a funk. At least the new Harry Potter opens next weekend. That'll be two hours away from me and my bullshit and my worrying over things that I'm not quite comfortable writing about here.

God, I... I... Fuck.