Walking down a different path but not walking away

Tonight my former partner (whom I shall start referring to simply as my Companion and leave it at that) cooked a ham steak and homemade macaroni and cheese and said I could come over to share it with him. That was nice. After dinner he tried explaining some basic electrical stuff to me since that’s all outside of my little realm, and he even got out his voltage meter and did some demonstrations to illustrate resistance, and that was interesting. I like it when he teaches me things relating to his knowledge of the machines he works on — it’s actually quite impressive what all he knows through working on vehicles the last three decades. Then we chatted about recent news stories.

It was nice. Kinda hard since this was our first dinner again since splitting up, but I’m very grateful we remain on as good of terms as we do. He remains a source of sunshine in my life, and I appreciate him very much as an individual and as a good man. We’re very different people, but we laugh together and formed what seems a very resilient bond over time. He said he’d like to come over when I make spaghetti next time, so it appears we’re heading on in a positive direction, learning to be in each other’s life without the weight of a romantic relationship placing expectations on the situation.

This, I believe, is progress. Couldn’t ask for anything more at this point in time and am very thankful. But overall it’s been an emotional day and I’m pretty drained.


My misadventures with CeCe the pregnant “hood rat” bully

Goodness, I’m in a story-sharing mood lately. Can’t say why exactly, but I’ve decided to go with it. Why not?

Flipping through some clips on YT and came across one about girl-on-girl bullying. Reminded me instantly of a very negative situation I experienced with a young black woman while living in a rougher area in a bigger city about 9 years ago. We’ll call her “CeCe” (close enough).

What an incredibly angry young black woman she was whom I just happened to get so lucky to have as an upstairs neighbor. She was about I’d guess around 20 (I was 23 at the time) and was taking care of her niece and nephew for the summer and had her boyfriend staying there as well. I had lived there for maybe a year before CeCe moved in, and I’d befriended several of the neighbors in a type of neighborhood I’d never really experienced living in before then: inner-city in a metro of about 1 million people, very low-income section close to downtown (most folks on food stamps and housing assistance programs, with plenty claiming disability coverage), two blocks away from the most notorious drug corner in the city (learned after moving there), cops driving by every hour, people frequently walking around trying to bum dollars and cigarettes and begging for rides…

BUT I do love cheap rent. Was an old converted house with really nice woodwork though the space was tiny. And neighbors wound up robbing me more than anywhere else I ever lived. ha Way more. Some of those little jackasses even broke into my truck, completely fucked my dashboard, and stole my stereo (on a rare occasion that I left the face on, dammit). Living there was like a social experiment. And I remained in that apartment for approximately 1.5 years.

Wonderful experience that was, and I say that in honesty for what all I gleaned living there from 2003-2004. For the record, I moved there for the cheap rent and because my Bangladeshi landlord let me pay in cash. Cash is king. But I had no real idea of where I was moving to and received my first wake-up call immediately after signing the lease when the cops pulled up a few houses down and got out and began chasing a man. The skycopter went over too, and I remember “Kahn” shrugging and muttering something about it not usually being this bad. That turned out to only be sorta true, but he tried warning me away from seeing that property after showing me one of his others, but I insisted. He lived on one side of the converted house and complained it was “too loud.” The bottom apartment was tiny but had hardwood floors and some old-fashioned charm, so I went with it. Nearby highway access, not far from campus, immediately available right when I was needing to get out on my own again. The stars lined up.

Turned out to be an interesting perch, both good and bad. I’d sit out on the porch and read and also planted a little garden that first year, so this provided an opportunity for me to actively meet and mingle with the locals and especially my neighbors and their kids, that porch serving as a little hangout for houses around. Discovered you had to chain down everything you didn’t want stolen, but there were good people around too. Lots of stories to tell there, but let’s pick up where CeCe moved in.


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Pregnant and taking care of her sister’s two kids for the summer, she and I initially got along. For about two months she sat out on the porch and we all interacted and things were pleasant between us. Though during that time I did witness CeCe reacting violently to a mother across the street after the kids got into a disagreement, and CeCe punched her in the back of the head in the middle of the street. Yeah, and while she’s pregnant.

I didn’t usually say a whole lot to her, but I recall her niece playing with my hair and styling it up in pigtails that I wore out one night. All seemed fine until that fateful day (dun dun duuunnnn, ha) when she and her boyfriend came out on the porch and somewhere in there it got brought up that I’m originally from Mississippi, and that wound up opening a whole can of worms that I didn’t fully expect. Her boyfriend went into grilling me about my attitudes about Mississippi, and I basically stated that I’m not ashamed of where I come from, history acknowledged. This just didn’t sit well with them, and they got a bit irritated and hostile, suggesting I am a racist. Why? Because I won’t denounce the South, a place these people hadn’t even visited and really knew nothing about firsthand? Bullshit. I was polite but stood my ground, not appreciating people jumping to conclusions like that.

Then another fateful day came around when I wasn’t aware CeCe was in the vicinity, not that it mattered since what occurred was between me and a neighbor guy I know, joking around over something pertaining to the rebel flag, which I am not opposed to then or now. Wherever CeCe was, she claimed later to have seen me basically give a thumb’s up for a shirt he was wearing, and that was all the evidence she felt was necessary to determine that I am a black-hating racist scum of the earth. And for the next few months she behaved like a hellish bitch toward me.

The neighbors were all nervous of her and recognized how scrappy and hostile she was (she having punched another person in the neighborhood by then), so nobody wanted to stand up to her. Hell, I didn’t want to stand up to her and didn’t for a long time. She’s a scary mean bitch to be on the wrong side of, plus she ran with a huge mean bitch who’d love any excuse to fight. I tried explaining to her, but she tuned me out every time and barked insults at me, so there was no reasoning with this individual. Some people label a person like her a “hood rat,” and I believe she’d fit that bill. Just sayin’. Can’t reason with her, can’t avoid her since she and her asshole friends began populating the porch and blocking the way to my door, calling me out as a “whore” and making really lewd comments. It was pretty fucking humiliating, but if I paused to say something they’d just start in threatening me to keep going. If I tried to sit on my own porch to read, as I’d always done before, she’d bark at me to get my ass back in my apartment. She told her niece and nephew and sister and other family members that I was her racist neighbor, so they all stared me down with dirty looks. That shit went on for about 2 months.

During all of this she’s still pregnant, and I see her smoking and drinking and got the feeling she was doing something else upstairs based on the glossy look in her eyes. Don’t have proof, purely speculation on my part.

Also during that time her boyfriend got abusive late one night, put his foot through her television, threw shit downstairs, stole money from her, and was wrestling with her on the stairwell when I came outside. I called the police, and they took practically forever to show up, by which time he was long gone. She didn’t want to press charges, so they said they didn’t need my statement, but I had waited outside for the cops to show. CeCe and her big mean friend still acted coldly, but whatever. I felt it was the right thing to do at the time.

Then one night I was sitting out on the porch with the father of one of my other neighbor’s kids, talking about his progress in his AA program, and CeCe comes home and raises her eyebrow about me sitting out there. The man actually got up and decided to leave, but I just decided to stay seated by myself. It’s my porch technically according to the lease. So CeCe and her big bitch friend came back down and barked at me a bit like usual, telling me if I had any sense I’d go inside. But I just sat there on the concrete. Kept my voice calm and simply stated I had every right to be there and that I had never done anything to her. She and her friend kept on barking and cussing and threatening and pacing around me, and I’d just say “No CeCe, it’s not right.” By then they’re making a big production and bouncing around, saying they were going to beat me and leave me bleeding on that porch. To which I replied that that was fine, wish she wouldn’t but I can’t stop her. But when I wake up from unconsciousness I’m going to crawl over to the landlord and have him call the Law and have these women charged with assault, which would be a real pity for a pregnant woman, especially once the cops figure out she’s been drinking and has drugs in her system. That was the gist of it, spoken very calmly. Woooh! She went up in flames on that one, hands up in the air, screeching about how she doesn’t do drugs, rapid pacing/bouncing. It was pretty nerve-wracking, but I just sat there and looked at her and stated I would not hit a pregnant woman, so she’d just have to go ahead and beat my ass without me fighting back if that’s really what she wanted to do.

And would you believe she and her friend did back down and went upstairs? Surprised me a bit too, considering how violently she generally liked to behave. Despised me more than ever after that though, but thankfully she moved soon afterward. Had her sister cuss me out one more time before departing, but lord it was great when she moved on. What a complete and utter bitch. What kind of mother do you imagine she is now?

Why didn’t I call the Law for their threats and harassment? Well, because that frankly would have been foolish. That would have most certainly invited retaliation and toward the end there her guyfriends were making some seriously fucked-up sexual remarks to me. That group of people are destined for prison, and they probably belong there, because they are completely rabid assholes apparently incapable of being civil or rational or reasonable or just. They have chosen the road of serving nothing but their base desires. That’s really unfortunate, but I suppose I’m glad for the opportunity to get to observe that sort of reality right up-close and personal.

Having grown up more familiar with small town poverty, though rural and inner-city impoverished communities share many things in common they really are quite different too. The “concrete jungle” (as I call the inner-city) warps its inhabitants’ psychologies in ways unique all unto itself. People’s dependence tends to run deeper and the hostility feels motivated by a sense of being trapped like a bunch of animals crammed into a cage. ‘Course violence and crappy schools are a reality among both rural and inner-city poor communities — for as much as they share in common, each ‘camp’ deserves its own analysis.

If life is nothing else, it’s certainly educational. So I must count such experiences among my blessings for the insight and perspective they provide.

After CeCe moved away and then kept coming back around occasionally to socialize with people, her and her family staring me down the whole way, I finally said “fuck it” (for that and other personal reasons), packed up and moved across the river to an apartment of comparable price but in a working-class neighborhood with so much less drama and bullshit. But I came out of that “quasi-ghetto” (as I prefer to call it since the neighborhood to the north was even worse) experience with a little different way of looking at a lot of things. That period in time challenged some of the stereotypes while strengthening others, but I couldn’t have gleaned what I did from only reading about such places and people. It’s more complex than a sociology or social work textbook can make one aware of.

And that concludes my story of being bullied by a “hood rat.”  ha

Thoughts on the risks youths can face

Been watching these “What Would You Do?” programs and some of them really get to me.

This one bugged me enough to drag it back here to my blog cave. Reminds me of a lot of bullshit I dealt with from grown men when I was a teenager. My family began letting me go back and forth across the country alone on Greyhound buses right around the time I turned 15, and I had to learn really quick that skeezy folks commonly found in the buses and/or around the bus stops are all about trying to lure young women and girls away somewhere private. I never went with anyone, but they’d harass me, and I learned over time to quickly look around for others near my age and group up with them for protection. I can recall one time grouping up with an 18 year old girl who spoke of how she’d left home and planned to head elsewhere and get by stripping, and she and I gravitated toward a young man with dreadlocks who also stuck by us during that trip. Another trip I gravitated toward a sweet, chubby teenage boy and we sat together and leaned against one another to sleep (damn-near impossible to sleep on a jerky, uncomfortable Greyhound bus, for the record). Another cross-country trip I clung to a young man headed home on leave from the military (and I still recall vaguely what he looked like — a thin, redheaded man who was very kind). This strategy also helped in reducing the risk of being robbed.

You learn to group up with others and to use your intuition in figuring out who to sit beside and who to avoid like the plague. I can recall old men with bottles of alcohol in their coat pockets, leaning in and trying to breathe all over me, talking nastiness. And I can recall one man in Memphis trying to talk me into leaving the bus station at night to go down the street with him when I was 16, though you know I had more sense than that.

But I remember one time when I was 15 and dating a boy around my age who was into drugs and kind of abusive-acting. There’s a big backstory to what was going on around that time, but the short version is that he’d taken some sort of pills and strongly encouraged me to try one as well. Then we had to leave to drive a couple of his friends to Jackson to catch the Greyhound, and during that drive I fell asleep almost immediately. And when I woke up a good bit later, the friends were gone and my little boyfriend at the time was driving erratically down an interstate we weren’t even supposed to be on. We got to arguing and he got to driving crazier, so then he pulled over on this pitch-black interstate, reached across me to open my car door, and shoved me out, then drove away with door still open. That was about 4am and I had absolutely no clue where I was. This is back before any of us had cell phones and there were no towns nearby. So I just started walking, and I was still pretty woozy from whatever pill I had taken earlier. Within a few short minutes, a semi truck pulled over and the driver asked me what was going on. He told me to climb up in the cab and he’d take me to the nearest truck stop so I could find help. I remember him saying his name was “Lee” and that he had a daughter about my age. And considering how naive I was at the time, I just blurted out that I was under the influence of something I was unsure of and very disoriented by. And I am forever grateful that man is the one who found me that night, because he drove me straight to the truck stop and notified the waitresses that I needed help.

Come to find out I was in Bogue Chitto, Mississippi—a town I’d never even heard of before that was several hours away from my hometown and completely off-course from where my boyfriend and I were supposed to be that evening. I remember how concerned the waitresses seemed and them encouraging me to go call my people, so I did and my Papa had to take off work so as to come retrieve me that morning. And while waiting for him I just zonked out asleep in a backroom. You can just imagine how disappointed and upset my Papa was with me and most especially with my jackass boyfriend whom didn’t return to town until many hours later since he’d gone off and gotten himself lost.

At the time I didn’t fully appreciate the risks in such a situation, but soon enough after reading and hearing on the news about other teens abducted or disappeared, it really began to sink in. But even so, due to my life events and whatnot I still wound up in dangerous situations over the next couple of years during my treks back and forth across the country between relatives, as noted above. And I think it was through just these sort of trials that my intuition got honed a bit. As a young person I had to take rides from various strangers, sometimes while trying to escape someone else who was scaring me whom I had mistaken as trustworthy.

On another occasion when I was 16 I remember a guy I knew from hanging out at a coffee house who seemed sweet and had some sort of brackets on his legs who then turned into a complete asshole when I went back to his apartment. Got menacing and saying I should “put out or get out,” literally, verbatim. Well, I was living here, there, and everywhere at that time and was up in the Midwest, far away from my Grandparents, and my parents had repeatedly proven to be of little assistance. So I turned and walked out of that young man’s place and took off walking in the snow until an old gentleman pulled up and offered me a ride. Said he was a former cop. I had no choice but to trust him since I was freezing, but I didn’t know where to go either, so I lied to him and had him drop me off downtown, then I holed up in the stairwell of a parking garage the rest of that evening. All because some jackass thought he’d hit me with an ultimatum due to my desperate circumstances at the time. (And would you believe I ran into that same jackass years later in another state at a bar? I sure did, and I confronted him and told him how shitty he had been. He apologized, but I seriously doubt he could ever comprehend how hard it can be out here for a teenager on her own, dodging men’s sexual come-ons, trying to stay warm and fed, trying to figure out who to trust and who to flee from, dealing with adults’ trickery and manipulation. He was fairly young but old enough to have known how fucked up his behavior was. His aloof apology years later frankly didn’t mean much to me—he was just wanting to save face in front of his new friends so far as I could tell.)

And these stories are just the tip of my little iceberg.

There are countless bad people out there in the world, but those with heart who help you are godsends, and I never forget them. To be honest though, I don’t recall a grown woman ever trying to help me in such a way — it was always other men aiming to protect me. Watching that video really breaks my heart and makes me wonder what impact it might have had if a grown woman had shown interest and pulled me to her like that. Because the hard-knocks education I received mostly pertained to dealing with men, and adult female strangers just didn’t factor in much one way or another. Those waitresses were very sweet and I appreciated their help very much that night in Bogue Chitto, but I’d say that sort of show of concern coming from women was a rarity. Hence why this video kinda chokes me up for how compassionate that couple was toward someone they thought was a young runaway.

Personal grieving (working through personal matters)

“Psychosomatic Illness caused by Porous Ego Boundaries due to Narcissistic Parent”:

Been watching this video on and off over the last few days (after having watched a couple of his others before that). Pretty heavy, depressing material, but that’s how my spirit feels these days so I’m going with these feelings so as to try once again to move beyond this state of mind, hopefully someday for good (if that’s possible).

Pausing at 41:07…He’s absolutely right about the human mind’s capacity to torture itself. It really is amazing. Fretfully so.

Continue reading

Would rather be single than stifled

Partner called tonight and reminded me for the 10,000th time why I’d rather just be single now. Plenty of things I appreciate about the man, but one I do not is his anti-intellectualism. When I say “anti-intellectual” that is precisely what I mean — he’s incredibly dismissive of anything and everything he personally isn’t knowledgeable on. Worst of all, he hates to read. HATES to read — and he’d tell anyone that outright. Says schooling gives him a headache and considers nearly anything I bring up on topics that you’d have to read about in order to become familiar with to be a complete waste of time. Totally pointless — everything I like to think about, everything that keeps me searching in this life — totally non-worthwhile in his view. Can’t discuss even the simplest shit, and heaven forbid he just listen about something he’s not familiar with—Oh hell no! He’s gotta butt right on in with his opinion on everything, right from go. And then we wind up shouting over one another, and I get pissed, and the topic winds up abandoned since he didn’t care to hear about it in the first place. Doesn’t directly pertain to him = unimportant. Period.

Won’t read a book unless it’s a cookbook. Won’t read an article. Most of what he thinks he knows that didn’t come directly from hands-on training (as in mechanical operations) he picked up from television. And then, lo and behold! The son of a gun goes off talking shit about people with college educations, as if that must be the problem right there, we assholes who care to take time with information before leaping to rash assumptions and warrantless declarations. The problem is me and “my kind” apparently, not him, never him.

In that way he’s a great deal like my Papa, may he rest in peace. And that’s one of the most aggravating features of my Papa, to be honest, in how he tended to look down on those who are better educated, he only having finished an 8th-grade education. But I understood growing up that my Papa was jealous and was tired of being talked down to by men who thought themselves automatically better than him, and I sympathize with that. While he encouraged his kids and grandkids to pursue college educations, he was also quick to remind me at least that I’d better remember where I come from. And I always do. I learned long ago that there are many, many, many topics not worth broaching around Papa, because he has an opinion on plenty that he knows little about. And I learned to keep quiet on plenty around him, because it simply wasn’t worth the drama.

BUT, when it comes to a man I’m dating, no, that shit doesn’t fly. I still reflect back on the first time I attempted to read something interesting out of a book to my partner during our first year together and that leading to a fight, because he doesn’t understand it and I believe is unsettled by his ignorance. But rather than try to listen and learn, he lashes out and treats it as so much rubbish, no matter what the topic is.

Tonight the argument sprang from me telling him about this Suicide Epidemic article I’ve been taking up time with recently. Shouldn’t have been an argument but somebody can’t listen and feels he must interject to state that anyone without a terminal illness is just weak and is “copping out.”  Ugh. I tried breaking down the stats to him, but he kept talking over me to where I doubt he heard any of it. This infuriates me. I was calm before, and now I’m riled, and this is pretty common between us. And naturally, one of the last things he said before I let him go was something smug about how his community college training must not qualify him to hold an opinion, which is just bullshit. Always a smartass quip, a snarky passive-aggressive rebuttal. Can’t just listen for a while — never that. Nope. Gotta forcefully jump in and make sure I’m cut down to size for having that fancy bachelor’s degree. So dumb. So, so irritating. And so completely unproductive.

Why raise my blood pressure for that? Why? What for? What does it ever prove? I tell him that learning is a choice and that a college education isn’t required, but whatever. It’s not what he wants to hear. He’d simply prefer I stick with light-hearted shit that he can easily digest and that be that, but that’s not fair to me. So we’ve been living very separate lives on some level despite staying together the last 3 years. And then what does he do? He gripes about me being online so much, because the internet is foreign to him too. But this is my home and my computer and this is my life that I finance on my own accord, so what’s it to him? I don’t like staring at a television for hours on end, but that he has no problem doing. So I say go do your thing and I’ll do mine, and we’ve gravitated apart from one another.

I don’t know how to entertain him, and what entertains me is a stone drag to that man. Well, that’s not true. We do enjoy playing darts and pool and those Megatouch games at the bar. We both enjoyed the shows “Breaking Bad” and “Malcolm in the Middle,” and I don’t mind watching cooking shows with him. But it came to feel like that’s all the together time we really both enjoyed. I love to watch films, yet he can’t stay awake through a movie to save his life (we’ve maybe watched 2 together before I gave up and chose to watch them by myself). We used to listen to music together in the beginning, but that too went away, some of what I like not being of his taste.

So we have very little in common and very little to converse about. And always the excuse comes back to him being tired after a hard day of working, and I am very sympathetic to that, but dammit. I’ve known plenty of blue-collar workers who can be engaged with on a wide variety of topics. When my partner comes home he wants beer or vodka and tv and that’s about it. And I want more out of life than just that.

It just sucks that the pleasure I derive from learning has to sour him to such an extent. Why does he find it so distasteful? Just because he doesn’t understand it? Is that all? Then why couldn’t I share it with him? Why does he see it as some sort of competition where he’s put on the defense just because these things are outside of his realm? Is it my fault that he lacks curiosity? No. So why must I censor myself to accommodate his desire to remain oblivious? Ugh.

Saw the red flags pertaining to that early on and didn’t heed them because he can be such a sweet guy. But in the end it’s stifling and I’m left feeling like my own inquiries are a complete waste of time and don’t matter. And that seriously bums me out. I don’t have many people in person to interact with on a wide range of topics, whereas he has plenty of other friends he can go shoot light-hearted shit with. But the push has been for me to keep it to myself in this relationship. But this is my home and this is my life, so no. No. That’s not fair and that’s not right.

We broke it

My lover just left, and our relationship has ended. Lord help us, I think this is it.

Irreconcilable differences…

The heartache’s been strung out a long time now. So much water under the bridge. He says he hopes for us to remain friends…

My heart hurts. It’s been such a long year and a half since the fighting began. Some days were good, but others were truly terrible. I’ve become through this someone I never wanted to be.

I will love him forever, and he says the same. But everything got broken and we can’t fix it. Everything’s turned into a fight anymore, and neither of us can take it. But dear God, it is so sad and painful walking away. He is my sunshine…but we just can’t make it work any longer.

Trolling My Trolls, Big Business Shenanigans, and other mid-week thoughts

Yeah, I do like to troll my own video comment threads’ trolls.  Haha  Hey, why not? I’m easily entertained at times.

And maybe this new Google+ comment section overhaul is kind of a good thing in a way. Because I apparently can rarely express myself in under 500 characters, and the comment section flame competitions, amusing as they can be to partake in some days, are just wasting my time and cutting into my productivity. Yup.

I’m not too cool with having things changed up to better suit advertisers though, since we know that’s undoubtedly what it’s all about (for a company trading at over $1,000/share on the NASDAQ, we can rest assured it is about money). But it is kinda weird pondering how much control these sites really give these major companies. And we just play right into it, easy peasy.

That’s what I get for trolling trolls. lol  We’ll blame karma. Maybe in the future I’ll post videos and then just tell folks to either comment here on the blog or PM me on YT if they really want me to read something. Fuck it. It’s getting to be too much work. And I don’t need every single thing I type online getting back to Google. And I really ought to get away from Gmail too.

There’s an internet oligopoly setup these days, and that’s a damn shame. Wasn’t supposed to be like this. I remember back when the original Google founders promised their company would never become precisely what it has become today. That’s sad. We believed them for a minute.

Ya see, everything winds me back to thinking about this concrete jungle grid and now the virtual world tied to it. More trappings with each passing year. More and more I see companies with sites putting up “arbitration clause” garbage in their small print, basically you agree by continuing to use their services, if ever a reason to sue would arise you’re agreeing to accept arbitration instead and forfeit your right to a trial. I noticed several months back Netflix added this:

If you are a Netflix member in the United States (including its possessions and territories), you and Netflix agree that any dispute, claim or controversy arising out of or relating in any way to the Netflix service, these Terms of Use and this Arbitration Agreement, shall be determined by binding arbitration or in small claims court. Arbitration is more informal than a lawsuit in court. Arbitration uses a neutral arbitrator instead of a judge or jury, allows for more limited discovery than in court, and is subject to very limited review by courts. Arbitrators can award the same damages and relief that a court can award. You agree that, by agreeing to these Terms of Use, the U.S. Federal Arbitration Act governs the interpretation and enforcement of this provision, and that you and Netflix are each waiving the right to a trial by jury or to participate in a class action. This arbitration provision shall survive termination of this Agreement and the termination of your Netflix membership.

That’s on their Terms of Use page, under Arbitration Agreement (#15), that being section A of A-F.

Makes me wonder why Netflix would need to fear class-action lawsuits.

But I shouldn’t be too entirely surprised since even my landlord had that in the lease agreement. I insisted he strike all of that out, and he relented, because that’s nuts. I’m not waiving my right to real trial if need be. Why?

Then Wells Fargo rolled out the same sort shit in 2012 (or ramped it up anyway). I remember getting the notice in my inbox and went to rabbling about it. But they don’t care. I’ve threatened to move my account from there several times and have another account at another bank. Just haven’t pulled that trigger yet.

And this is what really drives me nuts about life today. It’s chaotic. Everything I’m involved with changes over time. I remember back before Google bought YT. LOL That’s funny because it doesn’t matter a bit. It’s so funny how the ’90s and early 2000s wind up looking like the good ol’ days. Ha!  Now I have an idea how every generation before mine feels and why they bitched so much. Everything’s changing, and life’s just moving faster and faster with each passing year. Technology’s gone totally commercial. Advertisements being crammed anywhere and everywhere. The internet already looks like Tokyo — how much crazier can we make it?

I just have to laugh. That’s where I’m at today, humoring myself over so much ridiculousness going on all around. Makes me feel ridiculous too, especially when I continue to fork over money to Netflix and Wells Fargo month after month like I don’t have any sense. And considering how much time I spent on youtube over the last year and a half — holy shit. Turned out to be super addictive and perfectly compliments my decision to drink at home and avoid bars.  Ha

But it nearly feels like resistance is futile. Since most are going to go along with this way of life, this is how it will remain indefinitely in the U.S. We try to impress on one another and take at least some steps to avoid aiding and abetting bullshit, but it’s everywhere and becomes a frickin’ nightmare to completely avoid. If I read all small print on every terms of agreement I’ve ever signed, I’d still be reading it and all of the updates mailed out since. Legalese is the bane of my existence. confused3

Society’s crazy. Businesses are all crazy. Apparently I’m crazy and am surrounded by a sea of other crazies.  LOL  And that’s where we stand nearing the end of 2013.


Update 11/8/2013: Figured out that the YT comment sections now allow more than 500 character responses. Oooh.

Still can’t figure out the spam feature yet though.

Goddamn YouTube and Google+!

Thanks for fucking up YouTube yet again, Google. tongue_out  Now my comment sections are all wonky. I went to watch updates explaining what’s happened and why I’ve been forced to sign up for Google+ in order to still be able to comment on YT (ugh, tried avoiding that forever), and it appears this is all according to some grand design, because Google can NEVER leave well enough alone.

I worry about the approaching date when I find the internet as mindlessly stupid as I find television. Grrr… so aggravated. Nothing online can ever remain the same, nope, gotta tweak and screw with every inch of it, always. And for what? So some companies can better target us for advertising? I tune that shit out to the best of my ability already.

If someone ever would come up with an alternative to Youtube and Google I’d happily pay some reasonable amount on an annual basis. Seriously. Then we could skip the ads and the bullshit, which would be terrific.