Fear and Loathing in Facebook – My year away pt.2

I’ve been back on Facebook for a little over three weeks now. I’ve got to say so far it’s been a mixed bag of emotions. During my 16 month hiatus I didn’t feel like I was constantly being one upped by anyone with a pulse. Well that’s over. Let the self-deprecation resume! I’m still weighing my options on re-de-activation though, maybe this is just one of the worlds necessary evils.

Admittedly I was very overwhelmed at first. Upon signing in I glanced over faces and names I hadn’t seen or even thought about since I left. It felt like I was at a party full of strangers. The kind where you stand off to the side, awkwardly and afraid, looking around at all the unfamiliar faces and casually sipping your beer likes it’s something to do. “Hey, that guy does one hell of a statue impression; I bet he fucks like a mountain lion.”- thought no one, ever.

I have a hard time seeing just a person when I look at someone; no matter the context…I see all of the past experiences we have had, good or bad. I see alternate versions of what could have been – had things worked out how I hoped. It seems impossible for me to look at anything and just see it for what it is, always what it could be. This is no way to live your life because nothing ever seems good enough. #NeverSatisfied

As I delved deeper into the social abyss which is Facebook I came across pictures of ex-girlfriends or posts from past love intrigues. Because let’s be real, the best purpose Facebook serves is to stalk people you wish still wanted you in their lives. This caused me to start creating these rom-com-esque fantasies in my head of how things were supposed to end up…We would have had two kids, a dog named Sprinkles (Later our daughters adopted stripper name), Wednesdays are taco night, and I gently massage your feet every night until you fall asleep…in case you were wondering, that would never happen – I only eat tacos on Tuesdays.

I found out I have like 20 “friends” that I have never even met before? Oh yea, that’s right, when I arrived at WVU as a freshman I thought “friending” random chicks would give me a shot at coitus. I am going to conclude that I was wrong, very wrong, in that respect. Who came up with the word coitus anyway?

You know what I missed the most from Facebook? Birthdays. I have no fucking clue when your birthday is. I can’t even remember my mom’s birthday and I get my own age wrong all the time and I’m only 26, wait, no…I’m only 25, shit. Birthdays are important, it’s the one day a year you actually deserve some of the attention you crave. Facebook understands that you’re an attention whore and puts a daily reminder right in everyone’s grille upon logging in.

If I had any respect for myself I would de-activate this shit again. But as you may know I don’t. I could still do without the daily comings and goings of everyone. Oh you got dumped? Too bad, try Tinder. You moved away? Great, more room for me. Having a bad day today? Go grab a fucking beer and shut up already. Some things do warrant it, but generally we shouldn’t broadcast every aspect of our lives. It’s just unnecessary.

I think I’ll stay, for now at least, because it’s too much fun judging you. You with your inspirational quotes, your selfies, and your pins on pinterest.

My year away from Facebook – pt. 1 of 2

I wrote this portion of my blog post before I decided to reactivate my Facebook account on August 6th 2013.

I deactivated my Facebook account on or about June 1st 2012. My reasoning was sound but not valiant. I had to escape that deep seething sting you feel when your ex posts all his/her shit about their new significant other and how happy they are. Tell me you don’t think they are going out of their way to let you know that they’ve achieved that all so elusive “happiness” that you could have never brought them. Fuck that. I don’t need a daily reminder that I suck. My middling bank account and empty bed keep me up to date on that little factoid just fine.

So I ran away, the only thing that made sense to me. I did have other motives as well. I don’t really feel the need to know about every little fucking thing that happens in everyone’s lives. OMG you ate lunch today! No one would have guessed! Thank you for letting me see what you will be shitting out later! There is such a thing as too much information and I felt that Facebook was letting us in on it. The days of Polaroid photos, jacking off to magazines, and phone calls on land-lines are over. Everything is digital these days and it chaps my ass. I wanted to try and fight the norm, maybe get back to some of the basics that we as human beings have overlooked because we are too busy over analyzing photos of someone’s weekend escapades.

That didn’t work. I immediately found another social media outlet for my obsession. Twitter – which in its defense is not as personal as Facebook. I can’t go onto twitter and see you’re whole life story and how great you think your life is. (Only celebrities and the immensely wealthy have “great” lives and they don’t really use Facebook) I still used that to stay connected to people I otherwise would not so it’s still kind of cheating. I also haven’t taken more photos or masturbated to a magazine so the whole notion of reconnecting to the basics may have been an epic fail.

I will counter that with the argument that my mental wellness did increase when I left Facebook. I didn’t feel quite as bad about myself as I did when barraged with constant reminders of my shortcomings. It also allowed me some time to focus inward, on improving myself in some ways. I began exercising more frequently and feel like physically I have never been in better shape. I started reading more, if you have ever finished an entire novel in a week; you know how enlightening it can be to lose yourself in another world.

I have not been without drawbacks regarding my release from the death grip Facebook had on my social life. Most of the friends I made in college only communicated through that medium so I have lost touch with that group of people. Someone also forgot to send me the memo that dictates that if something isn’t a Facebook event it won’t happen in real life or you’re not invited unless you are in it. Missed a few gatherings because of that one…I also haven’t had another girlfriend…I wonder if that has any correlation or if I’m just that jaded and narcissistic now.

I’m going to reactive my account and see how it feels to be apart of the largest social network in the world again. Fuck you Zuckerberg you sucked me back in.

-NeverSatisfied

The NFL Doesn’t Like You – They Like Your Money

Uhhh, you're on the wrong side of the ball Jeff.

Uhhh, you’re on the wrong side of the ball Mr.Saturday

It’s just another Wednesday of arbitrarily attempting to seem productive in my shitty cubicle when I am distracted from counting the ceiling tiles by some news regarding the NFL on my twitter feed. Which, if you have a set of testicles, means you are going find out what’s going on…The NFL has axed the traditional Pro Bowl AFC vs. NFC format and will now employ a fantasy draft style roster selection instead. The “captains” that will be selecting these “all star” rosters will be former greats Jerry Rice and Deion Sanders, because Justin Beiber and Mile Cyrus were “busy”.

I am not sure why they keep trying to mess with the Pro Bowl, no player wants to play in it, it’s an unnecessary risk for injury and you gain nothing but a “bonus” for making the team when it could end up costing you millions if you were to receive a devastating injury. In reality the NFL needs to scrap the game altogether. No one attends and no one watches on television anymore because watching paint dry would involve you to fire more neurons in your brain than this exhibition in nonchalance.

But the NFL won’t do that because the NFL isn’t in the business of playing football they are in the business of making money. Money that you and I work hard for that they deceive us to spend on things like meaningless preseason games and attending training camp practices and paying for parking/shuttle from the parking in Landover, MD. Any chance for you to lay you’re normal, pathetic human eyes on these superb genetic specimens should cost you.

Don’t get me wrong, I love the NFL like the Republicans love to be insane, but I don’t want to throw my hard earned cash at you when I could just as easily buy a bag of weed and masturbate all evening. (Both would involve a lot of strange facial expressions and extensive cursing followed by a long nap) Give me some substance for God’s sake!

I have a final solution for the NFL though – Cut the Pro-Bowl and have a preseason all star game, but flag football style. Players will have been “paid” already after the off-season so there’s less risk that an injury could ruin your lifetime earnings. There’s no real contact so the only bad injuries you are looking at are muscle strains/tears which ample conditioning should combat. Add the incentive that the winning side gets one of their divisions stadiums selected for the next Superbowl. I think that solves just about every issue. Yea, the fans may be weary to pay to see a flag football game but you get the same athletes, with presumably more drive to succeed in the game when there are incentives for the winning side, and you’ve eased the players concerns. It will never happen though, because the NFL is only interested in your money, not your happiness and well being; certainly not the happiness and well being of the athletes they employ.

Sunday is just another yearly reminder…

Sunday is June 16th, Father’s Day. This is will be my third Father’s Day in which I no longer have a father. I did have a father. His name was Peter and he was kind of a dick most of the time, but he was still my father. He passed away on New Years’ Eve 2010. On a regular day I really don’t think about him too much. I might come across a picture of him smiling and think fondly of him, only to remember he had a choice to quit drinking and to stay with me, my mother and sister. My mom is my rock, my father was the moss that grew on the north side of the tree while I was perpetually to the south.

Days like Sunday always seem to make the memory of him stronger though. It emphasizes that he is no longer here and that the dynamic of my family will never again be whole. I do miss him. Especially on days like two years ago when my girlfriend of three years and I decided we no longer were “in love”.

I was actually still very much in love with her. I may have even loved her then more than I did at any other point in the relationship. She had checked out though, never spent time with me anymore, wouldn’t text me back ever, and crashed on her “friends” (her friends were all men) couches many nights without telling me she wasn’t coming home. (I had heard that once before in a relationship and that chick was definitely cheating on me) So I asked her to take a walk one day and I just put it out there. “Maybe it’s time we broke up and started seeing other people”. I had no “other people” to start seeing but I had a feeling she did. She played dumb and agreed without mentioning that there was someone else. After she moved out of my house I saw on Facebook (promptly deleted my profile after this) two weeks later that she was in a relationship with a guy who had the same name as me, probably was fatter than me by 20 pounds, had long hair (which I had cut at her request), and was one of her “friends”. I was destroyed. Suddenly the hole that was created by losing my father had turned into a ravine after losing her. I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t eat, and my brain just did not work.

During this period of my life I was working at a golf course in Woodbridge, VA. I loved working at a golf course because I had been around this game my whole life. Not by my intention though. My dad fucking loved golf. He loved it so much that when I was three years old he took a pair of his old irons and cut them down to size and gripped them for me. He said when he put the club in my hand I just knew what to do with it. He said I was a natural. He would later tell random old men on first tee’s how he thought I swung just like Ben Hogan. I hated my father for this at the time. He was one of the worst people to play golf with; me being a child. I would get down on myself for duffing a shot or just not pay attention to what I was doing (I was only child FYI) and he would snap at me and tell me to stop being a baby or yell at me to get in the fucking cart and stop holding up the group. It got the point where I no longer wanted to play with him and when I was old enough to tell him no, I did…I regret that decision to this day. I was a natural. I could out drive 20 and 30 year old men when I was 12. But I hated my father so much that I turned my back on something that I loved…golf…and him subsequently even though I didn’t know it at the time.

But back to that day 2 years ago…I woke up on a Tuesday morning in June. My friend and I would always play for money with the members. These guys were serious about their golf so there were no mulligan’s, no strokes went uncounted. They were also a lively bunch of retired men, one guy even had his own sayings that we would write down and laugh at later. Here’s one I specifically remember – “That ass must be made of jam, cause jelly don’t shake like that”.

I don’t think I said two words before we tee’d off and didn’t say many more afterward. I was numb inside. I was just not sure how to wrap my mind around being alone, plus like I said I had a grand canyon sized hole inside after losing my dad and then my significant other of the past 1,095 days within a 6 month period. Not a single thought about golf had passed through my head since I arrived at the course. I didn’t even realize it while I was playing (I knew I wasn’t sucking) but at the end of the round I added up my score, I shot a 76. Now, for a pro that is nothing on a par 70 course. But for me? I had never broken 80 before in my life. I was ecstatic. It was the most uplifting thing that I could have done to get some much needed self worth at that moment. I even ended up breaking 80 two more times in the next month.

You know what brought me right back down to Earth? The fact that I could not share this and other moments like it with my father…I do not doubt that he would have been pissed – he never broke 80 but does have a hole in one to his name – but I also do not doubt that that would have been one of the proudest moments of his life. To see his son that he pushed into the sport he loved so deeply finally appreciating it as much as he did and performing admirably at it as well. I’ll never get to see that smile on my dad’s face and I am left with the unflattering images of his slow and calculated demise from Cirrhosis of the liver.

I can only hope that one day I become a man of some sort of influence so I can hold an annual Father’s Day tournament in his honor. I would even offer free entry for anyone who has lost their father and encourage father/son pairings. If you have both of your parents still I can only give you one piece of advice. Don’t hold grudges against them while they’re alive, the memories don’t talk back.

Tim Tebow is worthless and so am I but you don’t get to hear about me on ESPN.

I could have been a Division-1 quarterback/tight-end if I had wanted to…actually tried to do so. At least that is what I keep telling myself…and friends…and prospective girlfriends…I tell everyone this. Always had a penchant for throwing the football; a tight spiral, pinpoint accuracy (I won the biggest stuffed animal they offer at the Kings Dominion football toss booth so yea I’m legit), decent distance on my throws…And yet nothing ever became of my surely burgeoning NFL career. Although, quitting freshman football after the first practice because I almost fainted didn’t help. But that’s neither here nor there. I only mention my largest failure/disappointment in life because there has been some unfortunate news in the NFL recently.

Tim Tebow has been signed to the New England Patriots as their 3rd string QB. If you were glad to never hear about him again, guess what? Time to load the hand gun and put on some lipstick because ESPN has already begun the 24 hour nonstop Tebow news cycle. Now, he may not even make the roster but I can’t believe someone, Bill Belichick of all people, was willing to give this guy a chance under center after last season. He couldn’t beat out a butt fumbler for playing time on a horrendous team…why is he on the same roster/field/planet as Tom Brady? I deserve to be holding Tom’s diamond encrusted, never-before-used, UGG shammy more than this guy. At least I would not be stupid enough to think I have a shot at seeing the field and I can throw a spiral…a spiral Tim, beat that.

His media relationship is what gets me the most though. I don’t need some guy that can’t even hit a receiver on a quick slant six yards down the field telling me what to believe in. This is the media’s fault for glorifying him in college. If Tebow hadn’t won at the University of Florida would anyone be listening to him? Would anyone care what some washed up ex-collegiate QB has to say about his faith. NO, because people only love athletes when they are winning and to have any shot at that you would need to get to play first.

At this point, Tim Tebow is nothing more than a pastor wearing football pads.

Dear ESPN,

Please let him slip quietly into obscurity so we can all get on with our lives.

An introduction to the man who will never be satisfied.

It is probably past time I started putting my thoughts down on a solid canvas. I have so many thoughts running through my head at any point of any day so now you get to hear about them. (Lucky you, right?)

A short introduction to me? I live in Northern Virginia. This is where I have resided my entire life, besides the five years I spent in Morgantown, WV for college (yea four didn’t seem like enough and seven would have been Van Wilderish). I have a bunch of friends from high school that I hangout with still – take that in any way you want. I feel we are close knit. We probably all secretly hate each other though.

I have an OK job in Washington D.C. but writing and trying to tap into my creative side are really where I find my passions lying these days. I am in my mid twenties – not really looking for a relationship but I probably couldn’t handle one if I had the chance. (I couldn’t hold together two pieces of bread to eat a sandwich let a lone two people for a relationship)

I might tell you what to do. Don’t listen.