2013/02/17

Chapter 23: Unreasonable Expectations

CHRISTMAS VACATION: CONFESSIONS OF A CONFUSED DOUCHE


SECTION THREE: NEW CASTLE, IN





Chapter XXIII: Unreasonable Expectations


I have always been required to participate in all social affairs. For most of these functions, particularly amongst friends, I was not only required to participate, but I was expected to be the star attraction and the life of the party. If I wasn’t the star attraction, people would confront me asking me if something was troubling me.

“What’s wrong with you?”

Please do not ever ask me that. That is my least favorite question on Earth. Am I not allowed to do anything other than captivate audiences? Sometimes I would like to simply sit back and allow others to provide the amusement. Furthermore, I would also like to be taken more seriously sometimes.

However, in many instances, (particularly in New Castle and Cincinnati) my natural means of conversing or my preferred topics of conversation was not unanimously approved. I was constantly scrutinized for offending weaker minds, all the while having all of my petty flaws or mistakes overly magnified—or certain beliefs openly ridiculed for not conforming to normal conventions (this frequently happened when I was outnumbered by mediocre minds.) I often wondered why certain people even wanted me in their company in the first place. The end result led to resentment and bitterness for constantly being placed under a microscope… I didn’t wish to be put on display in the first place.

As a result, I lost a great deal of concern for people who might find my actions offensive. Personally, I haven’t found people who are easily offended to be anything special. This has caused some serious problems in my life. Supposedly, I wasn’t ever allowed to do anything offensive; it was permissible with others as certain people are championed for “telling it like it is” or “just being crazy.” The closest people in my life never stood up in my defense—they always took the side of the easily offended.

Jen once complained that her friend Meg did not approve of some of the jokes I had made, and I adamantly retorted, “Well, fuck her then.” Meg was an extreme dipshit and a hypocrite at that (prior to me making any off-colored jokes, she had openly stated how much she enjoyed having her ass licked and how she was going to kill her landlord’s cat for not refunding her full deposit)—I somewhat blame my intolerance of her stupidity as a reason for the demise of our relationship. I never got offended by anything she said, but apparently she got extremely bent out of shape for me merely discussing the cannibalism aspects of the movie The Road (mind you, we had just watched the movie the night before and Meg was the one asking about it.) 

Not long after Jen and I split, I vowed that I was no longer going to attempt to please people who are too easily offended. Unfortunately, this has been a gradual process and something that I’ve even lamented the possible negative side effects. Unfortunately for me, I realized that my uncensored natural persona will more than likely create a disturbance within my family. I used to not even post links to my website on Facebook because I didn’t want certain family members to know my actual political and religious beliefs, or that I used language unsuitable to minors—even though the friends I saw on a regular basis was requesting this. You must keep in mind, some of the members of my family pray before each meal.

I figured that I would have far more success being who I naturally was, which some assumed had superstar qualities, than if I continued pretending to be normal just for family sake. Also, I decided that I was going to go about my business as normal, and if people did not like that, well, that was there problem not mine—I’m not the offended one. So, I came to my senses and posted all of my links. There have been complaints about the language used in my posts—oh well.

Two instances played a major influence in this decision. One being the perception of Lemmy in the film Lemmy; Lemmy is regarded as a badass because he is a renegade who doesn’t give a fuck about anything. Occasionally, I am regarded the same way and have had success doing so; too many times though, I am a pussy. The other involved a Marilyn Manson interview with Henry Rollins. He has no problem daunting his artistic creativity and he’s been successful; I’m sure that he has relatives who do not approve—nobody knows who the fuck they are though. Furthermore, he stated that in order to even consider yourself a writer, there has to be some degree of controversy and to say things that nobody else is saying. Somewhere in the back of my mind, I felt that Marilyn Manson would be a fan of my work; and that’s far more prestigious than Loretta, that old lady at the grocery store.

On Halloween, I posted the below photographs of myself, and an elderly relative claimed to have found them shocking and stated that she was “upset” about them before realizing it was a joke. I refused to even acknowledge the “upset” portion. It was Halloween, and many other people had various disguises for pictures—not sure why I was treated differently. Was anybody questioned, “Oh my, did you turn into a vampire?”



Did somebody wrongly assume that I was an religious inspirational figure? She did later retract her statement, apologized, and even laughed at herself for thinking otherwise. At that moment, all was forgiven and the rest of the conversation was superbly pleasant.

It is possibly all my fault though. On one hand, I never shared my interests with them for I assumed they would not be interested in them; as they had never taken any interest in my personal likes and have often expressed their disapproval of them. None of my family tried to listen to the same music as me, watch similar movies, or even listened to my opinions about life. In fact, they constantly tried to take music away from me. As a result, I kept my natural persona hidden from them; the only how they found out was through various readings or overhearing conversations with others. On the other hand, I have openly participated in their traditions, listened to all of their tales, and went to their world for visitations rather than vice versa… and probably appeared full-retard several times in the process.

However, I feel as if I have been pushed to an extreme edge. Numerous attempts were made (albeit school, family members, or various people who mean nothing) to suppress any sort of extraordinary characteristic that I possessed that could possibly offend the most susceptible of people; artistic creativity was regarded as a waste and that I needed to devote myself to something more practical. Despite all of this, I was expected to captivate audiences with fantastic refinement; friends anticipated a high degree of shock value… this person doesn’t give a fuck about anything.

As a result, my life has become a constant struggle as to whether or not I wish to disappear completely without a trace, or to pursue being a superstar. Periodically, there also exists a desire to be completely normal even if that involves becoming something completely different that what I currently am. Being as I believe that personal interests dictate a person’s facial features, I believe that I could look exactly like everybody else after a brief period of transformation when I disbanded all of the music I enjoy and replaced it with excessive television and modern mainstream pop suck as Nikki Minaj.

Being completely ordinary has numerous advantages. When interests and thought processes are perceived as common, there is very little of this world to find disturbing; ordinary people can fit in anywhere and mingle with anybody for all the interests are relatively the same.

On the contrary, being perceived as eccentric has limitless disadvantages. This is further heightened when the subject feels he/she has done nothing unusual to deserve this consideration and is exceptionally worse when the subject is frequently in environments dominated by those belonging to the common interest culture.

There are times when I have no desire to even leave my apartment for fear that I am going to be looked upon differently. Occasionally, I will go completely unnoticed, but too frequently, I find myself being stared at, gawked, questioned, or openly discussed/criticized/flattered by unwanted strangers. People I do not even have remarked on my sunglasses, my dress apparel, the way I talk, and even the way I walk. It would be different if I had held a forum where I encouraged an audience to ask questions, but that has never been the case. Straight men have groped my ass the bus stop, lesbian women have made aggressive sexual advances, and I prone to both unnecessary cheap feels and intentional avoidance as if I were a grotesque creepy menace. I am not bipolar, but the society I live in is, as there is no consistency whatsoever to how people will act in my presence.

That said, you would think that I would enjoy staying in a remote area such as my Dad’s house. Unfortunately, that is not the case. In actuality, I would prefer to be constantly active, actively social, but surrounded by like minded individuals. Due to the fact that I prefer to be involved with social activities, numerous occasions when I do go out, I go out all by myself—when I go out with friends, we often frequent establishments that are not my preferential setting. During both circumstances, I find myself going full retard for a significant portion of the night—that is, until I either drunk or stoned, and then I no longer care about my surroundings and simply be myself.

Surprisingly, I have a fairly difficult time interacting with strangers. This is never the case while I am working. I consider it my duty as a bartender to talk to everybody, and I do talk to everybody—even people in which I have nothing in common. However, even though I am considered an “awesome” bartender because of my entertaining qualities, I often suffer from severe anxiety prior to starting my shift. I have an uncontrollable fear that I will be surrounded by people who are nothing at all like me, and I will have to engage in conversation in which I have no interest whatsoever.

This is another weird contradictory trait of mine for I sometimes say that I do not like most people. While I do have a mild case of Social Anxiety Disorder, at the same time, I enjoy being the life of social gatherings. I realized that most of my anxiety comes when having to be around people outside my ideal social circle—such as numerous customers from The Cheese Bar—discussing cheese with tourists I have nothing in common with, I have really bad anxiety… talking about music or deranged philosophies, and I am completely comfortable.

My dad stated that he too had a touch of Social Anxiety Disorder, and yet was considered a “social butterfly” at work. He claimed he didn’t like dealing with customers at his job, but was considered extremely good at it and then promoted to a position to strictly deal with customers; maybe that’s why he lives out in the middle of nowhere. He also stated that he did not like New Castle either, and never affiliated himself with that setting; it made me wonder why he never left.

Unfortunately, my problems interacting with society lies with the fact that I absolutely despise a multitude of elements that define popular culture, and therefore have no business participating in a majority of conversation topics. I hate TV, I hate mainstream music, I hate both Democrats and Republicans, I hate douches, bros, white girls, and despise most things considered regular standards. I hate America. I hate Capitalism. I hate religion. I hate rituals that involve audience participation, such as sing-alongs. I hate Journey, Bon Jovi, A-Ha, Sweet Caroline, dance music, dubstep, and Closing Time; I hate Green Day and Sublime. I hate the entire concept of choosing a career and selecting a marriage partner. I hate the entire concept of marriage. I hate the entire concept of government. I hate the entire concept of money. Regular chit-chat about common ordinary lifestyles annoys the shit out of me. I hate celebrity fixation. The 40 Year Old Virgin was not a funny movie at all. Chances are, when I overhear a conversation taking place, I have either already this exact conversation 48,000 times, have no interest in the subject matter whatsoever, find all participants in the ordinary conversation extremely stupid, and ultimately, will not be impressed with any of their achievements or find any of their jokes even remotely funny. In fact, I am not even a real person. All of the thoughts and ideas in my head just appear mysteriously out of the blue; they are not even my own. Rather, they are the voices of a multitude of various figments living in my imagination; I have no control over this and people have deemed me creative as a result of nothing.

As a result, I will not leave my house without headphones so that I can drown out everything surrounding me. I have surrendered all hope of ever establishing a meaningful relationship with anybody I encounter in public. There is an extremely limited amount of people I could approach and share a meaningful conversation that would be of interest to both parties.

Yet, I long to be in a meaningful relationship with my dream woman. Yet, I long to socialize with people. Yet, I yearn to belong somewhere, anywhere… just not here. A world where I simply blend in with the scenery; or to disappear completely without a trace. Joining an Amish Community remains a viable option.

Furthermore, when I do go out, I frequently find myself in some sort of bizarre predicament or harassed by the police. It’s as if there are outside elements within the structure of my society that monitors my every move. The situations that I have been in are so puzzling that many people do not even believe I am telling the truth when I relate them. The circumstances in which I have been harassed by the police are unsettling as well.

This more than likely stems from the fact that I have visualized the perfect world; an ideal society that counteracts with this society. Maybe my dreams and ambitions are unrealistic. There lies the possibility that I have a false perception of myself and none of this has ever happened. Of course, there is also the notion that I am, in fact, the problem with the entire world; after all, the majority voted and I lost. However, I cannot say that I am impressed with the results. At least in my world, kids do not enter schools and gun down other children.

However, in regular society, I do not like to discuss this matter or the elements of the world I have created, along with the concept of government and the system of economics. It’s dangerous discussing Neo-Communistic beliefs in America; people become hostile and argumentative, then proceed to either claim that I am not right in the head, or counter my beliefs with their logical fallacies. 
 
At this point, I really wished that I could be content with the world. I would love to wake up one morning and suddenly find that I am now a fan of all things popular in mainstream culture. It would be great to turn on American Idol and think to myself, wow, these people have a talent. It would be great to sit through a bunch of commercials and actually want to buy the products after seeing the ad; or, rather than get annoyed by a mere preview of a sitcom, to actually enthusiastically anticipate watching the program; it would be nice to like all of the songs of mainstream radio—like Milwaukee radio—to think Katy Perry was a great singer, to think Lady Gaga is genuinely weird, to get excited about a sports halftime show. How nice it would be to actually listen to a group of bros and white girls on the bus and not become jittery with nervous anxiety and want to induce vomiting. Hell, it would even be awesome to sit through The National Anthem with pride… and not boo after the shitty ass fucking singer finished the cliché, shit show, one star, piece of shit The Star Spangled Banner is… and not think that forced exposure to that Anthem before every game is similar to Nazi Propaganda. Fuck National Pride, I don’t unconditionally support any government sponsored entity. But, if I did… it would certainly be super duper swell… Oh Boy!

All of my problems would mysteriously vanish if I created some sort of medical disorder in which I had been diagnosed. Nobody would ever question me about anything for it would be considered rude. As of now, people frequently ask me questions that would be considered rude or impolite to ask anybody else. Zach currently has a free ride and has no expectations of him whatsoever. None of the other kids grilled him as to why he plays so many video games like they did me for not having a TV.

Index: Chapter List


Chapter 23 Soundtrack Listing:


1. Les Savy Fav
"Tragic Monsters" 3:12

Go Forth
2001

2. Sorry About Dresden
"Sick and Sore" 4:41

Let It Rest
2003

3. Quintron
"You Don't Own Me" 2:36

The Unmasked Organ Light-Year of Infinity Man
2000

4. Motorhead
"Orgasmatron" 5:24

Orgasmatron
1986

5. Marilyn Manson
"I Don't Like The Drug But The Drugs Like Me" 5:03

Mechanical Animals
1998

6. Ted Leo & the Pharmacists
"The Ballad Of The Sin Eater" 5:20

Hearts of Oak
2003

7. Ed Harcourt
"Jetsetter" 3:56

From Every Sphere
2003

8. The Smashing Pumpkins
"1979" 4:26

Mellon Collie and the Infinite Sadness
1995

9. The Multiple Cat
"My Planet" 3:13

"Territory" Shall Mean the Universe
1996

10. Groove Armada
"Fall Silent" 4:33

Black Light
2010

11. The Make-Up
"Save Yourself" 3:23

Save Yourself
1999

12. The Walkmen
"The Rat" 4:28

Bows + Arrows
2004

13. Aztec Camera
"Rainy Season" 5:41

Frestonia
1995

14. Guns N' Roses
"Breakdown" 7:03

Use Your Illusion II
1991

15. Comet Gain
"Brothers Off The Block" 5:18

Broken Record Prayers
2009

16. Split Enz
"Charlie" 5:31

Dizrythmia
1977

17. The Fall
"Weather Report 2" 6:35

Your Future Our Clutter
2010

18. This Heat
"Back" 3:46

This Heat
1979

19. Drive Like Jehu
"Back" 3:46

Yank Crime
1994

All Sections Written, Designed, and Music Compiled by Tony J. Neal

Lemmy reference from the documentary "Lemmy" directed by Greg Olliver and Wes Orshoski
©2013

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