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Alone. That is what I am at this moment. I feel more alone now than I ever have before in the past. Because of my sociability, it often seems as if I'm not alone. However, I am. Many people think they understand me. They don't. I don't know that I even understand myself. Alone is riddled with so many negative connotations. We think it's a horrible thing to be alone. In a way, I'm one of them deep down. We dedicate all our spare energy to trying to find our "soul mate." We surround ourselves with friends to mask the truth. Who am I? I went and drank beer with Cory the other night and told him stories I hadn't thought about in years about the boy I used to be. In high school, I was a religious nutcase. I'm not proud of my beliefs back then. I hurt a lot of people close to me. When I deconverted, I became a better person. The thing that I forgot was I had some good qualities too. I was fearless. I was completely convicted in what I believed. I wasn't going to let anyone push me around. Instead of the school labeling me and boxing me in one category, I fought back and told them I wasn't going to take their crap. By the end of my freshman year, I was well known to the administrators. When I walked into the principal's office, he looked at me and asked, "Yes, Chris, what can I do for you now?" I didn't take no for an answer. When they told me that I would have to stay in a class in spite of violations of my religious beliefs, I said I would leave it. I went as far as to get a lawyer involved. I wanted people to know I wouldn't be pushed around. I wanted to let people know I was Christopher Rothbauer and I wasn't going to be their punching bag. It was probably partly as a result of the fact that I'd already been so many people's punching bags, whether literally or figuaratively: my father, my classmates, my teachers. I was sick of being bullied. It had gone on my whole life. So what I didn't want to get out and play basketball? I had more important things to do. So what I didn't want to be on the sports teams at school? They took away from things more important to me. That's how religion got to me in the first place: it told me, "No, Chris, there really isn't anything wrong with you. It's them." I ate it up. It gave me a kind of false self-esteem. When I jettisoned religion, the good part left with me. I went from someone who wouldn't be bullied into a shell of a man who would back down at the least antagonism. I let a manager bully me into working until 2:00 am on school nights. I let another give me a false promise of promotion. I let someone I thought was a friend tear me down until I broke. I let another manager years later bully me for almost a year and a half before I did something about it. Meanwhile, where was that boy who didn't care to be alone in the world as long as he had truth behind him? He didn't care if he had a relationship; he knew one would come if it was meant to be. He didn't care if he had no friends; they can turn on you in a second. He didn't care if he had no money; money often corrupts anyways. He was ready to face the world. He wanted to take the world by the horns and control it. Meanwhile, here is Chris Rothbauer, the man. To tell the truth, he's quite lonely. He wants to understand everything that's happened to him. He wants to understand the world. But most important, he wants to be understood. Current Mood:  contemplative
Current Music: Phantom Planet - California
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Had a bad day, don't talk to me,
gonna ride this out,
My little black heart, breaks apart,
with your big mouth.
And I'm sick of my sickness
Dont touch me, you'll get this.
I'm useless, lazy, perverted,
and you hate me.
You can't save me,
You can't change me,
Well I'm waiting for my wake up call,
And everything, everything's my fault.
Went to the doctor, and I asked her,
to make this stop.(whoa)
Got medication, a new addiction,
Fucking thanks a lot.
Had to relapse, I'm outta rehab,
It ruined everything.(whoa)
So point your finger, at the singer,
He's in the pharmacy.
You can't save me,
You can't change me,
Well I'm waiting for my wake up call ,
and everything's my fault.
You can't save me,
You can't blame me,
Well I'm waiting here to take a fall,
and everything, and everthing's my fault.
And I'm a death threat haven't slept yet,
Baby wide awake at dawn.
Helmet bad boy, tell the tabloids,
everything's my fault.
Whoa whoa yeah, write it write it,
Whoa whoa yeah, write it write it,
Whoa Whoa everthing's my fault,
everthing's my fault.
I went to heaven, couldn't get it,
For what I had done.
I said forsake me, you said you're crazy
you were too much fun.
You can't save me,
You can't change me,
Well I'm waiting for my wake up call ,
and everything's my fault." -- Unwritten Law
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It still hasn't fully sinked in yet but today was my last day at Office Depot. After four and a half years putting up with crap it finally became unbearable. I start my new job on Monday. It's kind of scary and I'm taking a major pay cut. However, it will all be worth it to feel good about my job again.
I suppose curiosity has made many wonder what has suddenly made the job so horrible. Well, sit back and let me tell you a little story.
As many of you know, we sell Product Protection Plans at Office Depot. These are essentially extended warranties, despite the fact that the term "extended warranty" is taboo in our company. Now the reason companies offer extended warranties is two-fold: 1) they present less bitching from customers when the product breaks down and 2) there is a huge huge margin on them. As one manager once told me, they are almost pure profit.
So the desire for profit sometimes blinds a company's eyes to ethical concerns and they begin pushing and pushing to have those plans sold. They want no excuses such as "the customer just didn't want to buy it." If the customer doesn't want to buy it, it's obviously something we've did wrong. As Super Bitch put it, "We still have room for improvement until we're selling PPPs to 100% of our customers." Of course, this is absurd. 100% of customers will NEVER buy an extended warranty. Super Bitch (and the DM), though, obviously won't listen to reason.
The DM additionally reprimanded me for daring to talk to other employees about how miserable we all were working there.
In a way, I am very glad to be out of there at last. In another way, I'm sad to go. There are so many of my coworkers I'm going to miss and even some customers. It's time for a new chapter in my life though.
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"To every thing there is a season, and a time to every purpose under the heaven:
A time to be born, and a time to die; a time to plant, and a time to pluck up that which is planted;
A time to kill, and a time to heal; a time to break down, and a time to build up;
A time to weep, and a time to laugh; a time to mourn, and a time to dance;
A time to cast away stones, and a time to gather stones together; a time to embrace, and a time to refrain from embracing;
A time to get, and a time to lose; a time to keep, and a time to cast away;
A time to rend, and a time to sew; a time to keep silence, and a time to speak;
A time to love, and a time to hate; a time of war, and a time of peace." -- Ecclesiastes 3:1-8
It's a strange feeling to know that there's no more you can do in a situation. It's peaceful in a way. It's like I know I've done everything in my power and now I have to do something else because nothing I've done has affected anything.
Yeah, there's no saving the situation at Office Depot. I have an interview for another job tomorrow.
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I don't want to write. I feel like I can't write. I'm going to explode if I write. I have to write. It's the only way I feel I know how to express the myriad of emotions I feel. Each day leaves me feeling more nihlistic than the previous. I've given up expecting to be happy. It's not going to happen. Everytime I think I have happiness it turns out to be as fake as the smile I put on my face in a vain attempt to convey to the world how happy I wish I was. I have nothing. No, that's not true. I have some friends who try their damndest to undserstand me and I have my school and my philosophy. I guess my life isn't a total waste. Each day that goes by I find myself slipping further and further into a kind of existential egoism, if that makes any sense. Nietzsche has taught me to quit expecting subconsciously that life has any intrinsic purpose. It doesn't. Neither does my suffering. I'm not superstitious and refuse to believe in fate, no matter how comforting it may be. I've been looking for a new job in vain for nearly a year now. It's not going to happen and I'm dangerously close to loosing the one I've got. I don't believe there's a giant conspiracy out to get me but I do believe C is incompetent and that she has absolutely no skills as a manager. She's getting a bad review from her manager and she wants to blame it on us. Well, piss on her. How can a person be such an idiot? Angst is something I'm beginning to accept. Sartre believed it was a natural course of existensce when a free man discovered how different his life was from the ideal life. Is this happening to me? I'm tired of being an idealist. It has gotten me nowhere and I see my ideas refuted daily by the stupidest of men. Is this all that's left? Is this all there is? The only thing that's kept me going for a number of months is the fact that I'm on Lexapro. Yes, you heard me. It's like coming out of the closet again. "Hello, my name is Chris and I'm on antidepressants." Yeah, they work. Barely. I mean, I don't want to slit my wrists right now. That's improvement, right? Would you wake me up when this bad dream is over and tell me I can be an idealist and a romantic again? Current Mood:  cynical
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Sometimes you don't always get what you expected out of life. When I was a teenager, I expected that, at this point, I would already be out of school, successful, and preaching (go figure on the last one). I expected I'd be married right now to my high school sweetheart (if that's what you want to call her) and we'd have at least one kid by now.
As I said, things don't always work out the way you expect them to. Which brings me to another point: the fact that I've been living a double life from my family, especially my mother, for years now.
You see, there's the side of me all my friends, acquaintances, and classmates see. Then there's the side of me my mother sees. They're two complete and opposite people. One thing about the past two weeks is that I've been forced to accept the fact that this double life is wearing me out.
So, it scares me to death. Eventually, if I succeed in my writing goals, there are certain things about me she is bound to find out. I don't want her to find out that way. It's the hardest thing in the world, though, especially for a recovering codependent.
So what's a guy to do? I'm not quite sure yet. One thing I know: something's got to give. I've been living seperate lives since I was 17. It's time to stop. Nine years of not being myself has taken its toll.
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"I don't know where to go Ain't no light along the road stumbling under the stars above Somehow feel someone's stare turn around nobody there never knowing if I'm all alone cause paranoia is the only friend that I know and everybody else is gone their eyes are burning into my heart fall and feeling fear I can't go on and nobody will sound the alarm Sit around late at night sitting by the fireside planning out to bury me alive and when I'm done they all will laugh about how I died. Cause everybody else is gone their eyes are burning into my heart we'll fall and feeling fear I can't go on and nobody will sound the alarm In the darkness of my mind I hear a voice that seems to sigh I'm going to die before I save myself And everybody else is gone Their eyes are burning into my heart we'll fall and feeling fear I can't go on and nobody will sound the alarm we'll fall and fearing fear I can't go on and nobody will sound the alarm." Yeah, new Saves the Day kicks ass! Current Music: Saves the Day - Sound the Alarm
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So let me tell you about my night... The day started around 2:30 when I picked up Nathan and Mikey at Nathan's house. However, they were nowhere to be found. Apparently, my friends were late as usual as Mikey was taking time showering and getting ready. Mikey soon called to apologize and tell me they were on their way. About a half hour later, we were on our way after a brief detour at the library to print out directions to Bogarts and to Subway to pick up some food. I have to say that the only time I've been more bored by a road other than I-71 is the stretch of I-65 between Indianapolis and Chicago. There isn't much to look at for about an hour and a half. In Florence, they decided, for whatever reason, to paint the words, "Welcome to Florence, Y'all" on their water tower. This and the fact that there is a park call "Big Bone Lick State Park" disturbed us greatly and made us question the fact we were in Kentucky. Let me tell you, if you've never entered Cincinnati from I-71, you're missing out. A few miles out you see nothing until you come to the top of a hill. Then, out of the middle of nowhere, the skyline comes jutting out at you and almost blinds you for the sheer contrast of brillance between it and the previous two hour's boredom. It makes me wonder how Louisville can claim to be bigger than Cincinnati.Go figure. So, we enter Cincinnati and proceed without incident to the area of town where Bogarts is. If you're familiar with Louisville, think of the Portland neighborhood with the street shop feel of the Highlands painted up nice to try and revitalize it. That's what this neighborhood reminded me of. Nathan told me to park in a nearby Kroger's parking lot as there wouldn't be much parking near Bogarts. Alas, we were two hours early! We were in an unfamiliar city with limitless possibilities. However, all we really felt like doing was waiting. So, we joined the line of devoted scene kids who had already begun to line up and wait for the doors to open. Among the sights we saw while waiting were a Rastafarian shop across the street and a combination bar/laundromat. So, while we're waiting, a homeless Rastafarian comes up and takes off his doo rag. Yes, I already found it fishy that a Rastafraian had hair short enough to wear a doo rag. He takes out a harmonica as if he's about to become a street musician but instead only hums a few lines while singing, "Bob Dylan! Bob Dylan! Bob Dylan! Bob Dylan!" This is already amusing enough. However, he makes it even better when he starts preaching about Jesus and how he's not perfect. Now Mikey was horrified at the whole ordeal panning out before us and decided he would play Zuma on his phone in an attempt to ignore the events unfolding. Nathan and I, however, were anxious to see how this little train wreck would pan out. When he asked how many of us weren't sinners, we both chuckled and thought about raising our hands but so wanted to be outside observers that we simply watched and listened. He soon found a skinny red headed scene kid and started yelling about how the queen should let the Irish go and be their own country. "No taxation without representation!" he would yell at random intervals. By the time he was done with this kid, he had the kid screaming, "Let my people go!" in a great homage to Moses. After wondering up and down the street for a few minutes, the man runs acorss a girl who dares to be defiant to what he is preaching. He tells her she is going to hell and accuses her of being a lesbian and "Jezebel." The three of us at this point are cracking up laughing. Even if somehow the show ended up completely sucking, it would be worth it at this point to see this spectacle. One guy, sick of this man's harrasment, comes up and tries to tell the man to leave. The Rastafarian, at this point, becomes defiant and decides he wants to fight the man directly in front of where the three of us are. At this point, I don't know what to think. However, the hero doesn't want to fight the Rastafarian and soon retreats back to where he was before, at which point the Rastafarian begins berating Jezebel again before moving on further down the line. The doors soon opened and we walked up to enter the building when I noticed a big sign in plain view: "If you park in Kroger's parking lot and you go to Bogarts, you will be towed." At this point, it's a big, "D'oh" moment as I decide the safest course of action is to move my car. I move it to a pay parking lot nearby and rush back to the line as Nathan and Mikey have already gone inside. So, at the back of the line, who do I find but the Rastafarian, still rambling on and on, and a guy dressed like a Ramones era punk The Rastafarian comes up to me and shakes my hand. "I bet you could beat someone down in a fight," he says matter-of-factly. I can only nod as I'm chuckling inside. The fact is that I've never beat anyone down in my life. Truly, when it comes to fighting, I am a whimp. I go in the door and soon unload some money on a t-shirt and a beer. The three of us decide that, as I didn't have much fun at a show like this last time (see Story of the Year), it would be better to stay up above and watch the stage from afar so as to avoid the stupid scene shit happening. I've never fully understood the emo need to mosh and I guess I never will. It just doesn't seem like the type of music to me you would mosh to. The opening bands were unimpressive, so unimpressive I don't even remember their names. However, it was well worth it as Saves the Day completely rocked the house. They played a mixture of songs off all three of their current albums as well as new material off the album coming out Tuesday. We were blown away by the new material. In fact, Mikey and I wonder if this could be the album that finally sees them make it big. So, it was an uneventful drive home. Mikey and I each drove part of the way back while Nathan slept in the back. It's exciting to have gone to another show but, at the same time, I realize I've outgrown much of what goes on there. Many of those kids were young enough they were probably in elementary school when Saves the Day released their first album. It's a new generation I guess and I don't fit in with them. I probably never will. That's not necessarily a bad thing. I have a wide range of appreciation for rock music and that will probably never change. However, I'm scared that, one day, I may have to stop attending shows all together. Does there come a time when you are so out of place that it's better to stay home? All I know is that being in Cincinnati with my two best friends in the world drinking beer and listening to good music made it all worth while. Current Mood:  tired
Current Music: The Clash - Should I Stay or Should I Go?
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College Algrebra is a class which really bores me at times. I usually get what the professor is talking about within the first five minutes of discussion but then it is drawn out for 45 minutes. So, I took advantage of that time tonight to think of a topic which has been on my mind lately: why am I still afraid after all of these years to tell people right away that I'm gay?
I have to admit that the world is a much more tolerant place today than it was when I was in high school. Hell, I was one of the homophobes in high school so it's no wonder I'm so scared now. I think it boils down to two things: stereotypes and fear of opinion. The latter is definitely connected to the first but can be easily overcome through a Nietzschen acceptance of the situation as amoral, i.e. neither good nor evil, simply a fact.
The first point bugs me a bit and only became clear tonight. I guess I can easily illustrate it by using an old friend as an example. He and I have been friends since kindergarten and I've known him longer than anyone else in the world. When I told him I was gay and we started talking about it, he expressed suprise that I had male friends, both gay and straight, that I don't sleep with. This bugged the hell out of me because of its implication: gays will sleep with anyone. I have to admit, though, that after some thought, I've realized that the stereotype is largely true. I makes me sick when gay people have absolutely no standards about who they sleep with and even sicker when their only standard is physical appearance.
Am I doomed to be single the rest of my life because of this attitude? Perhaps. I guess though that, as much as being single sucks, I'd rather be single than be a whore. I've already tried that once in my life and it didn't work very well.
Perhaps in the sexual revolution's quest to remove taboos, we've gone too far. Sex is no longer sacred. It's something which has been compared to eating or taking a shower. Is there really any pleasure from an act which you simply do without any thought as to who you're doing it with or why?
I'd love to create an entire philosophy on this.
(Crossposted to MySpace)
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Fear. The fear of failure hovers over me. I cringe and wonder why I ever thought I could go back to school. I'm going to fail just like every other time. I'm just not meant for success. I think about how I'm going to drop all of my classes and redouble my efforts on moving to Chicago. Anything to get away from all of this and forget about what I've lost. So my 4.0 GPA was just a fluke, I think. I had a really good semester. I was just full of hope. Now, I'm seeing reality. I try and make every excuse in the world why I'm going to fail. I think how much it's going to hurt. How am I going to break the news to my mother that I failed, yet again? How am I going to face up to my friends that I didn't make it? How am I going to stand living a life where I'm not doing what I love?A million thoughts spin out of control through my mind, old demons which resurface everytime I go through a crisis. I don't know what I'm doing. I try and blame my inevitable failure on a million things: my work, my bad habits, my genes. It all boils down to one thing, though: I'm just not good enough. Suddenly, I flash back to reality. I'm sitting in my logic class, doubt still clouding my mind. My test is one of the first the professor hands back. I take it and look at it nervously, afriad of what the verdict will be. Then I see it. I got a 97 and I deserved it. Current Mood:  accomplished
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redfarmer's journal
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sad
indescribable
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