He said, There are people out there
Who will kidnap my children
And take advantage of my women.
I am going to kill them.
They will try to kill me back.
This is why I must be strong.
Some of the people I kill
Will have been kind and decent.
Some will have had good intentions.
Some victims, some accidents.
None of them are evil.
But they will still have had hurt my own,
Those for whom I am responsible,
And I will not be responsible for
These people that I will kill.
They will forgive me
As I have forgiven them.
We are all doing what little we can:
The best we can for our own.
I’m sitting at Starbucks in Midtown next to a family and some sort of yuppie girl on either side and I don’t like my coffee very much—whatever happened to not liking dirt? Or just refusing to drink it? It’s not even caffeinated.
I had an interview just a half hour ago and it went okay. I am so calmly meticulous that I don’t get enough positive information out quickly—and none of the information is that nuanced or interesting so it’s not like my hesitation/precision with words is ever useful in interviews. If they sent me the questions beforehand, then maybe talking with me for a mere thirty minutes might be useful. It takes an hour to figure what language I’m speaking.
I have an interview tomorrow and I think the crucial part of that one will be portraying a contrived sense of happiness and positivity—and someone convincing them that I have phone conversation skills. I think I technically do. I’ve spent hours on the phone before. I answered the phone for the Lab, and Mr. Rogers said, “That was very professional,” when I hung up.
Midterms went fine.
I talked to Jordan about subletting/moving in with him and John/Reese/Grant, etc. They are all guys that were freshmen when I was a House Scholar. I still feel like they’re all older and superior to me. Handsomer and more assertive ability and secure and all that. I mean, it doesn’t matter whether or not they are. I don’t know. It just depends on the task at hand, really. Ambiguous terms all around.
But if I can find a decent-paying job that doesn’t make me want to quit every second that I’m there (Subway, *cough* *cough*—but seriously, cough—how could you let that your skin breath that god-awful air? How could you let yourself smell that and smell like that? You know that mayonnaise and light mayonnaise are the same? You know they don’t clean those bottles? Why would they? They just refill them. There’s some mayonnaise substance that’s been in that bottle for years and years, probably. How could there not be?), you know, something I could be proud of, then it’d be nice to stick around New York and live with those guys. It’s location is close to King’s. I want to stay loyal to my friends at school. I’m not loyal to New York or anything. Once I run out of friends in New York, I doubt I’ll stick around. It doesn’t really attract the kind of people I know how I deal with or love. It pushes me, but eventually I’ll be a pusher. I think. Maybe. I sort of hope so. I mean, in my own way.
I have one BUS class and it’s Principles of Managerial Organization. It’s making me really want to create value/wealth/happiness for the customer. I’ve always been non-hierarchical about jobs—in terms of perceived value—like, a delivery guy is just as important as a CEO, even though people think you can treat them differently. I mean, there are different rules, maybe, but the rules are of equal importance.
I said “um” too much during the interview. At least I was able to answer all the questions. I literally was unable to answer a question at an interview a while back. I sat there thinking and pretended like the answer was more important the the person asking the question. This time, I was talking with my hands, so that I means I lost some self-awareness—which is good for me. Makes me talk more. I mean, even expressing self-awareness through words makes me lose some of that awareness.
She took a photo of my during the interview (she gave fair warming and I posed and all: “Cute,” she said) so that she wouldn’t forget me.
I had a nightmare the other night. I want to tell you about it.
Jordan offered me craisins as he gave me a tour of the apartment. He sleeps in the loft area, which is too warm, but cozy, and I like it.
Leah Trouwborst was wondering about how either you either have a merely cordial roommate relationship at best, or a fraternal/familial roommateship at best. I am of the second category. Thus, Adam. I don’t see the reason why you wouldn’t be friends with people with whom it’s convenient to be friends with. I don’t see why you would have to distance yourself from those people. There is something wrong if you are scared to be closer to people that you are close to. You don’t know what it’s like to have someone whisper Are you okay I just want to know what’s going on when you are crying in the middle of the night. Or to know that someone out there is willing to listen to your shitty music with you and put up with all your shit past midnight. They will neither ignore you nor tell you are you perfect. They will see all of your problems and say you are okay and be okay with it. Sometimes, you are not afraid to clean up their vomit. You will neither fire nor get fired. Everyone will sacrifice anything for anyone. Everything fall apart and nothing will be destroyed because every individual piece is infinitely indestructible.
These are the beliefs that will not get me a job. These are the values that I hold and shouldn’t express: I express instead that I am worthless but I will work as hard as I can so I do not burden you. I would hate to burden you. I will create things for you—just tell me what you need.
I will share the whole of me with one person one day. Until that I give pieces of myself to different people and see what they say. I edit myself and figure out the best way to present the best and worst parts of me. I am still creating the thing that I am that I will give away entirely.
God. Get a grip, man.
I am only saying these things so that you know that I want them said to me. I am saying them to you—able to say them to you—because I hear God say them to me. But I am not God. This is what my family said to me as well. And I want to say it back to them.
I just want to live in the same house as you.
I can’t speak, you know, I can’t speak
I’ll be your tongue, I’ll be your gums