Prestige Worldwide Presents: Nice to Meet You, I'm George. Pardon This Blade I'm Holding,

Disclaimer: This blog won't be funny.

My guess is that half of the people who normally read my blog will stop reading after that header. 

Disclaimer 2: The people who remain reading will most likely be insulted either directly or indirectly by me in this blog.

Great, now that we've settled that, we can continue. Normally when I start a blog, I have already been inspired to write something and have detailed a general plan or outline for it in my mind before my fingers ever approach a keyboard. I made a promise to myself when starting this, that I wouldn't simply write something to write something. I told myself that the time between blog entries would never be a factor in me formulating a blog, and that I would wait for a topic of interest that I felt I could write about with passion and inspiration. This blog is no exception; however, my inspiration for this is a lack of inspiration by my part. After people read this, I imagine they will think I'm in a pretty negative place right now. However, that isn't the case. I'm no more depressed or negative than I would be any other day, in fact, probably less. My first few blogs have been created with the intention to entertain. While the premise of each has a strong level of truth behind it, things are exaggerated or slightly modified to enhance the story. But I wanted this entry to be more about intraspective thought and reflection. I want to try to find something out about myself through brutal honesty in the hopes that, through my own words, I can see a side of myself I normally do not.

Every so often there is some element to my life or personality that could be described as genuine. Some reaction or emotion that has the stamp of an authentic and positive me etched on it somewhere. But for the most part, what I perceive myself to be is a persona. I used to crawl into the role of being the "George" that I thought people wanted to see. I always knew being me required some level of expectation behind it, though I could never understand the "why" behind it. Things like "potential" and "future" and "talent" are vague and self serving to those who expect it from someone else. For a lot of my youth I was selfless in fulfilling the role that people thought I should be. I then went through a phase easy to predict and ever easier to dissect where I rebelled against that false self. I firmly believe life is about achieving some type of balance in every facet of it. Extremes, regardless of which side of the line they fall towards, are hard to sustain and typically damaging to the self. When we see someone in society that has tendencies that could be described as "extreme" we automatically think something is wrong with them. Even if someone is extremely happy or positive or religious or whatever the case might be, something seems off. Just as much so as if they were an extreme sadist or murderer or slacker. Balance is the key to everything. So when I decided to no longer be the persona of George that people wanted me to be, I became the George that everyone wished I wasn't. My fall from grace wasn't nearly as bad as it could have been, something I am grateful for. I never got into drugs, violence, crime. I kept my head above water with academics, held on to a strong group of friends, and was still functional on a day to day basis. But regardless, I went out of my way to provoke people, hurt those close to me, and make mistakes. Looking back, I obviously had pent up resentment towards the person I thought I was being forced to be and was acting out. That is easy to identify from anyone who has any basic understanding of the principles of psychology. But I also did some of the things I did to purposely feel dysfunction and self chaos. I wanted to genuinely relate to a side of my mother that I previously had not. Her mental illness and traits might be hereditary, but I wanted her actions and mistakes to become the same. I wanted to relate to her rather than rationalize for her. I wanted to experience her mistakes through my own eyes and experiences rather than have to frown upon them.

The place that I'm at now in my life is different from the false selves I used to rely upon. It is, what I believe to be, a more genuine self, though not a better version necessarily. What I have come to firmly believe is that people do not hold my interest. People often misinterpret this as being depressed or angry, when in actuality, I am simply bored with people I constantly come in contact with. This is something that I used to hide, my general dislike for the vast majority of the population. And while I don't try to go out of my way to be rude or cold shouldered, people can tell as clearly as if I was wearing a shirt that read something like, "If you're reading this I'm not too fond of you." I have that vibe, and this saddens me. I was in a Borders today and walked by a woman who was in line for a coffee based beverage. She wasn't in my way at all, and she did me no injustice of any kind, but when I walked by her she apologized. I think she could tell I didn't like her kind (the human race) and was apologizing for being alive.

There is a dark side to my personality, and it is filled with these types of thoughts. What I have tried to realize is that these negative thoughts do not necessarily define me as a person. That I can still think these things sometimes but be inherently good. ....I'm not too sure yet. I know most of my problem with how I perceive others is rooted in the way that I perceive myself. I am bored with people because I think I am somehow unique or special. I often think no one could relate to me because they cannot possibly be wired the same way as me. This has nothing to do with pity and everything to do with insecurities and ego. I can easily look at other people's situations and understand their situation is far worse than anything life has ever handed me. I don't want others to pity me at all actually. I just simply think my complexities run so deep that others could not grasp the full realm of what and who I am. These are delusional thoughts of grandeur, and while I understand they are not true, I also think they are true. That principle of holding a thought to be both true and untrue simultaneously is called "double think." George Orwell talks about it heavily through his characters in his classic: "1984". 

I need to change my attitude. I know this much. I often feel like menial and everyday tasks are beneath me. That I shouldn't have to do anything unless I am inspired by something in a powerful and moving way. My problem is I am looking for inspiration in all the wrong places. My favorite movies, songs, and pieces of literature all have common themes in the fact that they challenge people about the very morality of life and deconstruct the common values of man. I like these because they share my common pessimistic approach to the world. Why do I choose to use these tools as inspiration rather than the miracles I have been given? 

I'm not unique. I'm beginning to be okay with these. If being ordinary presents me with opportunities to bless those around me extraordinarily, then I am okay with this. I want to spend my thoughts and time towards being the best person, best friend, best father, best son, best brother, best version of myself that I can be. If I lack inspiration, then trying to become a version of myself that can trump all the others, should be all the inspiration I ever need.

Prestige Worldwide Presents: Would You Like Some Gamble With Your Ribs?

I think it's relatively safe to say that most people who know me would classify me as a gambler. For a long time that label made me defensive. I thought my gambling or betting was, somehow, unique. I wasn't the "traditional gambler". I didn't bet on random events or games. I only bet while playing poker; a game just as dependent on skill as it is luck or variance. To me a true gambler would be willing to place bets on anything and everything, even things they had no control over. 


While I still try to adhere to my old philosophy of only betting on things where I can somehow directly affect the outcome, I'm certainly a gambler. I've embraced it, or rather, excepted it. Gamblers have bad stigmas attached to them. They look irresponsible, compulsive, not in control.  They wear suspenders, smoke cigars, drink bad scotch. You can see how I wouldn't want my name and image to be attached to suspenders, can't you? But I'm a gambler. I bet on things consistently with my roommate. Poker was the start and still is the fulcrum, but darts, disc golf, video games, sales performances, etc are all things I have bet on. There is a trend there that is pretty consistent with what I mentioned earlier. Only wanting to bet on competition, or things I am personally doing and responsible for the final outcome. But I also bet on random things, and more importantly, I bet on things I shouldn't. During these times the cliched old man compulsive gambler rears his semi balding head and makes me look like a fool. 

One instance of this happening took place last week during a get together at my apartment. I was playing beer pong. Let me rephrase: I was running the table all night. I was operating at another level. I won something like 13 straight games. But 13 games of beer pong, even whilst winning, is still a lot of beer consumption. My skills at beer pong drunk are still better than the average sober person, but at this time, a friend of mine came over who is probably better than me at beer pong at any state of sobriety. I split a series of two games with him, winning the first, and losing the second. Then, I lost again. Going 1 out of 3 and having my ego on the line somehow motivated me to take out three hundred dollars cash from my wallet and start loudly challenging anyone who would play me in a game of beer pong for three hundred dollars. Wait, what? It's important to note that three hundred dollars was probably for rent or some bill. I don't just have three hundred dollars laying around to lose.  This wasn't the strip club, this was my apartment. So the fact that I was waving around three bills in peoples faces wasn't either:

A) Impressive
or
B) Wise


It was simply me being an idiot. Lucky for me, I don't think anyone else there had three hundred dollars. The bet never came to fruition. I continued to play beer pong for pride and glory, rather than rent and car payments.


I want to continue with these stories....They are incredibly flattering to myself


Approximately a month ago, a building started being built (go figure) a few streets down from my apartment. After a few weeks of construction the general frame had been established. I come from a background where I have seen many a church building in my youth. This building was the same design as a classic Lutheran or Baptist style church. It even had an elevated peak in the front coming to a slope where, I thought, the cross would go on top. I was so certain this building was a church, I was ready to name it. My roommate Greg wouldn't know a church from a barn. He stays away from church the way I stay away Boys Town. When we drove by this building together and bantered back and forth about what it was, I knew it was time to put a wager down. I know easy money when I see it, and this was as green as grass...assuming it was properly watered and manicured, that is. I won't disclose the terms of the bet, only will tell you my money was on it being a church and his any other building where worship wasn't taking place.


The building is now finished folks


I'll give you a hint. There are certainly people in there who are praying and everyone who attends there is a sinner. But it's not a church. It's a Golden Corral. 


For the sake of those who skim this briefly and don't read thoroughly I'll tell you again.


ITS A GOLDEN CORRAL BUFFET


Now, I don't know why Golden Corral designs their buildings like the modern day church. I can't tell you why it looks like the Vatican. But what I can tell you is that this is supremely disappointing. For years, when people have asked me the question, "George, what is the shitiest, lowest quality buffet in Aurora?" the answer has been as instinctual and easy as waking up. "The Ponderosa" I would respond without hesitation. Now, if someone was to ask me that same question, I'd have to stop and really think hard about it. And just to let you know, these two buffets are located like 150 yards from one another. Did Golden Corral scout at that location for months thinking, "Man, that Ponderosa is really taking all our business in the shitty buffet industry. We better take back our rightful place in this Aurora market. Let's pull a fast one on them and open our doors 150 yards from them."??????


I don't get it. But if I'm ever mayor the first thing I'm implementing is the "Shitty Buffet Ordinance". It won't allow one terrible buffet to open up within a proximity of 5 miles from another terrible buffet. 


The last thing I want to attract to my lovely town are some of those old, degenerate, compulsive gamblers who wear suspenders and crave cheap, awful food. 


I guess I'll see you in line.....

Prestige Worldwide Presents: Checkmate and Chicas

I am God awful at Chess. Ordinarily, this wouldn't be a big deal if I didn't spend a large portion of my life trash talking and berating every potential chess opponent I could come across. Now, if people know me, they know how competitive I am. With that competitive nature, comes an insurmountable amount of trash talk. I'm like an episode of Real World/Road Rules challenge only with slightly more clothing and better teeth. However, when it comes to chess, this is on an entirely different level. I talk trash in chess like the less anti semantic version of Bobby Fischer. I once spent three weeks talking myself up in chess to my roommate before our first game of chess. My tirade of insults towards his mediocre game and self inflated comments knew no bounds. I lost in 10 moves in an Oberweis dairy. There were children there under the age of twelve who were offering up their allowance as betting collateral trying to get me to play them after they saw that destruction.

Just so you know, all of the chess arrogance was genuine. I used to be, what I thought was, a very competent chess player. Forget competent, I used to be legendary. Back in highschool and yahoogames.com I was dominating the competition. But recently, it hasn't just been Greg (who mind you, actually is mediocre)  it has been anyone and everyone beating me handily. So this begs the question: was I ever actually good at chess? Was it that I was simply having good results because I was playing terrible opponents? Or was I at some point good and since then have seen my skills deteriorate? 

This is exactly how I feel about me when it comes to women and the ever important aspect of "having game.". I'm pretty sure I have no game. Zero. Or, rather, have the worst game of all time. And unlike chess, I'm very much okay with this. Like chess, I used to feel like I had the best game. That I could pull any girl worth pulling (or pushing if she was into that). But recently, since my priorities in what I am looking for have greatly changed, I am having zero results. Back when I was younger, and in particular immediately after I broke up with my ex Brittany, I went through a phase where I was involved with a lot of people. These were, for the most part, a good mix of very attractive girls. Some my age, some younger, some older, some not conscious. One was even Asian. I had to put in minimal work to get these girls. Do a little bit of smiling, tell some jokes, make some advances, and voila! (my sister will be proud of the correct spelling here) mission achieved.

I'm only twenty-one years old. I'm probably better looking now than then. Probably have more money. I definitely have a better skin complexion and DVD collection. I have a better house to take them back to, yet I don't go out with people nearly as much, or when I try, achieve the same results. I realize this is because my priorities have changed greatly. Out of all the girls I have been with, none of them could be or should be or would be characterized as intelligent. "Street Smart" doesn't count, mostly because no one really knows what that means other than someone probably is illiterate. So, with the girls I've been attempting to be with lately, I have gone out of my way to look for someone who is an intellectual. 

Now, my "game" with women looks and goes something like this:

1. meet attractive girl
2. have a good first impression
3. somehow make contact with girl 
4. intellectually bully/molest girl.
5. girl stops talking to me.

Steps 1-3 look pretty solid. Ah, step 4, how did you sneak in there? What I've realized is I'm really attempting a process of elimination. When I start talking to these people, my humor, my comments, my wit, my thoughts all have some underlying intellectual theme to them. People can't identify with me because I come across like Gandalf the Grey. People don't want to talk to a college professor. They want to hangout with socially normally people. Now, I do this on purpose. It's important that's noted. I'm trying to find someone who respond in such a way that lets me identify them as a potential fit. But this backfires 100 times more than it works. In fact, it's never worked. I really just end up losing people in a whirlwind of confusion. 

To further my problems, I also, without much rhyme or reason get far too emotionally unstable and become far too open with people I've been talking to/have known/seen at the grocery store for 1 week. This freaks people out. 

So, what the hell has happened? Maybe I was, at one point good with women and things have changed because I enjoy sticking my foot directly in my mouth. Maybe I was never very good with women and met a lot of hoes. Maybe the hoe train is coming back. Maybe I need to stop worrying so much about this and work on my chess game. Both need improving.