The Joys of Living
I'm 23 yrs old and my mother is limmiting my internet time. How outstandingly pathetic. Well atleast I'm aware of it. I think it's worse when people don't realize in what ways they are pathetic. Everyone knows what they are good at or how they are unique (if they say they don't they're lying fucktards) but most people are oblivious to their most important traits. Their pathetic ones. There's an overabundance of niceness in American society. This cultivates a facade instead of a realistic outlook of ones self. A prime example of this are the American (shithead) Idol auditions. How many deluded morons parade themselves in front of a country that's too nice to keep them from humiliating themselves? Hundreds? Thousands? The faveorite excuse for their patheticness (yes that's the word of the entry I'm too lazy to go thusaurus.com) is that their friends and family told them that they could sing. Their friends and family are just being nice without being nice at all. The right thing and ultimately the nice thing to do would be to keep your friend or loved one from making an ass of themself. Telling the truth is hard though and it may make your friend angry or sad oh my. When is friendship only about feeling good? Friends are suposed to tell you when you suck so you don't go out and make yourself suck more. It's hard to be a good friend and the 20,000 douche bags that camp out to humilate themselves need new friends who will tell them that they are thinking to much of their abilities and to persue something they can actually do. However, there are the select few who are so lost in a fantastical vision of their self that no amount of warning from loved ones will deturr them from their condeluded dreams.
Now I'm not talking about the jerk offs who know damn well they can't sing and just want their 15 secs of fame. I'm talking about the people who should just kill themselves. Those who really think they can sing when they really sound like my ass after a mexi melt binge. Their tear soaked faces after they're bitch slapped by the judges make me sympathic to Harris and Klebolds vision of American youth. They're too far gone and unfortunately one of these sad indivisuals is an old High School aqutance of mine. I would like to think that once upon a time he was sane. I'm not so sure any more if that was the case. I think he is a casualtiy of unchecked depression. He spends more money on mastering his albums, getting them made, having photo shoots and shooting videos then moving out of his mothers house. He can't sing a lick or dance. When he proforms he has the audiance laughing and cheering because they think he's a comedy act. Oh don't let the shoots and videos etc sound glamorous. He's not signed and does all of his albums right out of his bedroom using outdating equipment and a mac he went 2k into debt for. Just a side note, he only got it for the garageband software. His photographer is an ex-gf of mine and his videographer her current gf. They don't even do it for free either.
The end product always looks and sounds like shit. Once it looked like his hobby was turning into something unhealthy I withdrew my support. We barely talk anymore. Suprise suprise. I tried talking to him again just to find out he's died his hair and eyebrows blonde. Actually, that aforementioned ex who stirs his delirum dyed it for him. My deluded friend is built like Ron Jermey (the old one) minus the cock size and is about as hairy as him too. He could pull it off though with a sort of robust swarthyness. Now he just looks like a freak with orange hair. I tell him the truth about how he looks, asked him if he dyed his arm, chest, back, ass and pubic hair blond too and end up with the pleasure of reading a blog entry about how much he likes his new look and how people shouldn't judge him. You're not being judged you're being ripped from your fantasy world where you're the next Britney Spears.
I love the kid like a brother. I'm sure someone feels the same about atleast one of the American Idol rejects. But how do you make them listen when they're drowning in niceness?
I don't know. All I can do is watch the months go buy with out a call or the birth days go buy with out a present and wonder if I'm really being too harsh for busting his dream. I just don't know how I can support a friend who persues an empty dream.
I have to give him credit for atleast having a dream and the guts to try and persue it even if ends in total self destruction because hes moving. I however am standing completly still. No dreams spurr my soul into action. I have no idea who I am or what I want. Just vague ideas of what I might want but how do you build a life around that?
So I join the masses as I look for a new steady job to pay back my debt. A slave in a white collar with no illusons about it. Maybe if I could delude myself I could be a happy little hamster in its' wheel running for it's owner without a mind. Or I could live in reality. It's hard. I'm starting to understand my friends pop star dream more and more as I realize that my 8 hr days online were my delusion.
As much as I hate to say it. Thanks Mom for waking me the fuck up. G my friend I tried to do the same with you. Where's my thank you?
Now I'm not talking about the jerk offs who know damn well they can't sing and just want their 15 secs of fame. I'm talking about the people who should just kill themselves. Those who really think they can sing when they really sound like my ass after a mexi melt binge. Their tear soaked faces after they're bitch slapped by the judges make me sympathic to Harris and Klebolds vision of American youth. They're too far gone and unfortunately one of these sad indivisuals is an old High School aqutance of mine. I would like to think that once upon a time he was sane. I'm not so sure any more if that was the case. I think he is a casualtiy of unchecked depression. He spends more money on mastering his albums, getting them made, having photo shoots and shooting videos then moving out of his mothers house. He can't sing a lick or dance. When he proforms he has the audiance laughing and cheering because they think he's a comedy act. Oh don't let the shoots and videos etc sound glamorous. He's not signed and does all of his albums right out of his bedroom using outdating equipment and a mac he went 2k into debt for. Just a side note, he only got it for the garageband software. His photographer is an ex-gf of mine and his videographer her current gf. They don't even do it for free either.
The end product always looks and sounds like shit. Once it looked like his hobby was turning into something unhealthy I withdrew my support. We barely talk anymore. Suprise suprise. I tried talking to him again just to find out he's died his hair and eyebrows blonde. Actually, that aforementioned ex who stirs his delirum dyed it for him. My deluded friend is built like Ron Jermey (the old one) minus the cock size and is about as hairy as him too. He could pull it off though with a sort of robust swarthyness. Now he just looks like a freak with orange hair. I tell him the truth about how he looks, asked him if he dyed his arm, chest, back, ass and pubic hair blond too and end up with the pleasure of reading a blog entry about how much he likes his new look and how people shouldn't judge him. You're not being judged you're being ripped from your fantasy world where you're the next Britney Spears.
I love the kid like a brother. I'm sure someone feels the same about atleast one of the American Idol rejects. But how do you make them listen when they're drowning in niceness?
I don't know. All I can do is watch the months go buy with out a call or the birth days go buy with out a present and wonder if I'm really being too harsh for busting his dream. I just don't know how I can support a friend who persues an empty dream.
I have to give him credit for atleast having a dream and the guts to try and persue it even if ends in total self destruction because hes moving. I however am standing completly still. No dreams spurr my soul into action. I have no idea who I am or what I want. Just vague ideas of what I might want but how do you build a life around that?
So I join the masses as I look for a new steady job to pay back my debt. A slave in a white collar with no illusons about it. Maybe if I could delude myself I could be a happy little hamster in its' wheel running for it's owner without a mind. Or I could live in reality. It's hard. I'm starting to understand my friends pop star dream more and more as I realize that my 8 hr days online were my delusion.
As much as I hate to say it. Thanks Mom for waking me the fuck up. G my friend I tried to do the same with you. Where's my thank you?