I once used to use this LiveJournal in a more traditional sense. Spouting off nonsense and trying to be witty with random thoughts of the day, spouting out my frustrations and observations of the shambling life around me. I guess I thought I had something to say, some unique take on the world. Then, after years of this, I realized I wasn't all that clever, or unique, or observant. That, and I'm a really shitty writer. I'm a king of ongoing sentences and bad spelling and have a limited vocabulary, which I want to broaden and make more colorful by using wanky words and made up sound effects.
See, that was just yet another sentence that went on too long and didn't really say anything.
So, I dropped that approach to LiveJournalling like a hot mic.Decided to just use it to post recent artworks and let the pictures do the talking. Plus, who the hell even uses LiveJournal anymore but Russians. And even they have just resorted to posting pictures only.
But lately, I've had a hankerin' to spout out nonsense again, in some feeble attempt to lay my fractured thoughts out on virtual paper. Mayhaps to clear my jumbled brain matter and in some hope that maybe I make sense to someone else out there. Just like my artwork.
Here's a piece of artwork I did recently so you have something to oogle at between the ramblings that you've skimmed over.
Maybe the sudden urge to write out my thoughts is because, since I have moved back to my hometown of Flint, Michigan, I feel like I speak a different language than those around me. Especially the people that work behind the counters of gas stations, doctors offices,pharmacies and retail stores. Take this example of a conversation I had this morning-
Video Game Store Clerk: ....(he just looks at me like I walked into his living room and he wasn't expecting any visitors, especially one he didn't know).
Me:(In a slightly louder and more commanding voice): HELLO
Video Game Store Clerk: ...
Me: Yeah, I'd like to special order a game for my wife
Video Game Store Clerk: (Looks at me like I speak Chinese or backwards or in some ancient tongue that's not used anymore) Uh, define "special order"...
Me: (Ok, now the blood pressure starts to rise in me because I can tell this dinklehead is unfamiliar with his own job duties) Well, it's when I give you a title of a game, you look it up in your computer, then you order it,Then, when it comes in, you give me a call to tell me it has come in, then I return to the store and give you money for the game that I special ordered that has arrived and you then give me the game.
Video Game Store Clerk: Well, we don't do special orders. (pauses, looks at me like I asked him to order a Big Mac or something totally unrelated to the kind of merchandise that he carries in the store.Then, you can see a flicker of light ignite in his eyes. For which he then says snottingly( there's one of those words I made up I was telling you about earlier...) BUT we do Pre-Orders for games.
Me: Good. Then let's do that.
O.K. So, In his defense, I wasn't familiar with the terminology used in video game retail culture. I guess the term "special order" went out of fashion along with books, cd's and dvd's,the culture I AM familiar with, Seems that video game stores don't special order things. They Pre-Order things. But, being that this goober probably knows how his store works better than I do, should have politely explained that to me before he asked me to "define special order." That statement just wanted me to define how I'm gonna thrust my foot up his ass.
Before I continue, here's another recent piece of artwork I've done to break up the gooblygook of my rant.(and which has nothing to do with said gooblygook.
So,before you think I fly off the handle over nothing, this kind of stuff happens on an almost daily basis when speaking to people that work in some sort of serving position in the businesses I have frequented lately. I never get a fast food, or for that matter, any food order back in the manner I requested. There's always something missing in the bag that I paid for .I've probably spent a total of $20 for air in the last month. I've had doctors, nurses or other types that work with twiddling around with organs on the inside of my body, ask me what procedure is to be done,instead of checking with the paperwork that has been laid out before their eyes.Which makes me really nervous, cuz they should know more than I what they are going to be doing. They're the doctor, not me. And it goes on and on and on.
Maybe it's just me. Maybe I've spent waaaayyyyyy too much time holed up in the house hunched over a drawing table,inhaling paint fumes and lost in my own creative thoughts so I've lost some communication skills or social skills. Or maybe I'm just a bitter angry guy that gets defensive when someone who I assume knows what they're doing goes to me for the answers they themselves should know being in their respective positions that they get a paycheck for every week and get upset with me when I call them on it.
Wow, that last sentence was a doozy of a run on sentence.
Guess that explains everything.
I should just go back to drawing my silly little pictures.
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