Molten

There was a time when compassion would offend me.

It would imply that someone felt sorry for me for i was in worse shape. "In worse shape" = "inferior" which would confirm and reinforce my deep-seeded insecurities.

Seems obvious, but only recently i realized and came to terms with the fact that compassion simply means "feels with", literally.

It's been liberating at times.

I've dreaded/loathed my boss because she's one judgmental, fickle, insecure bitch. Know what? I'm one judgmental, fickle, insecure bitch. Again, we reject in others what we hate most in ourselves.

We've all been hurt, and we've all hurt, without knowing and without trying. Without meaning.

We've all thought we're hung up on an ex. Or two. Or three. At the end, more often than not, it's not about the person, but the way they made us feel at the time.

If i'm #3 (that i know of), does it make his missing me less special? Does it make me less special?

Just a droplet in the ocean, feeling the same things as the ocean, without knowing and without trying. Without meaning.

All... a... Board 4

One word: BONER!!!!!

Chase 8

Two nights ago, as i consummated my transaction on Adam & Eve, i was confronted with "What prompted this purchase tonight?"

An array of media was in the drop-down menu. None of the options said "loneliness".

Loneliness, yo, Papa. Loneliness, and the belief you're never gonna get laid again.

Decorum

Today after Brad's service i wanted to see how Stewart liked Derek II's Halloween bash which, as i mentioned, i couldn't make a cameo at.

Not like i really needed to know. Just had to make small talk. Cuz where do you go from lying about being fine after someone inquires on your well-being?

They probably don't really need to know, either. We're all just making small talk. We don't know what else to do.

"Did you have fun?" I asked Stewart.

I could see "What?!! You sick bastard..." all over Stewart's face. He was dumbfounded.

Hastily i elaborated/clarified, "Last night?", realizing my question was utterly inappropriate given we had JUST ATTENDED SERVICE FOR THE DECEASED.

Dynamic

This morning i attended Brad's memorial service at a church of Scientology. Never been inside one before.

It couldn't be gloomier, rainier, or windier. Perfect weather for bereavement.

There were L. Ron Hubbard quotes plastered everywhere. One close to where i was seated said:

Man is basically good. It is this basic goodness we need to set free.

Hmm. I'm not sure goodness is necessarily predominant. Or latent, for that matter.

I'd much prefer the Buddha's theory of infinite good and infinite evil. In a way that belief has always been a part of me. I just couldn't name it. Which is why i have thrived since a young age to understand criminal/pathological behavior.

So i can better understand myself.

Interrupted

Monday morning (essentially Sunday night) Riley lost Brad*, one of his best pool hall buddies, in a motorcycle accident.

Riley, Brad and i all worked together at Merry Lore.

Everyone was shocked by the news. It was surreal. There is just something very, very wrong for a 20-year-old who loves life to lose his.

Brad deserved to live much more than, say, someone like me, who's already dead inside. The universe is unfair indeed.

I didn't know Brad that well. He was relatively new. One fond memory i have, though, is of this one idle afternoon when i hung out with the guys in the warehouse goofing off. It was probably a Friday.

I walked in on Riley and Brad inventing a new game with the conveyor consisting of metal rollers. They'd prime the rollers by stepping on them and gliding across in sweeping motions, turning them at high speed. Then they'd place a lightweight box of metal handles on, which would be sent flying and then crashing.

I caught a couple of rounds while the boys took turns, and i started laughing hysterically. It was so sublimely absurd!

My laugh irrevocably infected the perpetrators and bystanders alike.

Barely intelligible, i implored, "Do it again!" which totally cracked Riley up.

Once in a while it's awesome to act and feel like a kid again.

Psyched Brad proceeded to prime the rollers again. They were turning so fast you could hear the continual swoosh. Adrenaline was pumping.

Then the anticlimactic happened: Brad's pant got caught in a metal handle, and the entire box uneventfully fell off to the side, contents spilled.

Brad turned bright red while Riley laughed his ass off.

I remember thinking to myself: Brad the biker dude has a sensitive side after all.

Fast forward to yesterday. Riley came in my office hella pissed. Derek I had just dissed him by basically calling him a lazy motherfucker who screwed up on an order (the culprit could not be determined). We've been short-staffed for the longest time. And i know for a fact that Riley, of all people, is not a lazy motherfucker. He's a rarity who actually cares.

"I'm just trying to get through this week!" Lamented Riley. "Um, sorry your order is screwed up, Derek. We're a little short-handed. Newton* [our assistant manager] is on maternity leave. And Brad is dead!"

Wow. When he put it that way, he really made me rethink life.


*Not his real name

Aptness

If not for pussy shaving, this poor sucka's face would never get wiped.

Even if no one is gonna eat it. Shave it anyway.

That would be my humble addition to that Martina McBride song on Waking Up Laughing.

My twist on Rumi's famous quote, if you will.