* – This is going to come off more like a rant than a typical column from me, but whatever. I don’t care what you think anyway.
People make me sick nowadays. More than ever.
I can’t get people to follow through and do what they say they will do.
I’m sick and tired of the hiring (or lack thereof) practices of companies nowadays.
You owe people money, they’re on your ass every other hour about it — those same people owe you money and you’ll go months before you get it; if you ever do.
I spent 10 years doing ME, creating my own destiny and not having to wait for other people to do this or that in order for my own plans to come off. I’m in a market now (real estate rentals) with a bunch of schmucks, people who have no idea about how New York City rentals work (broker fees, the cost of various neighborhoods — even the very ones they live in, unrealistic expectations, inflexibility, etc.) This nonsense nowadays works my nerves.
Every plan that I have conceived since August 2005 has either failed or been stalled because of an outside influence that I had no control over. Again, ever since age 16, I’ve been cultivating a mindset and lifestyle that prevented my fate being in the hands of others and their (in)activity. This drives me nuts.
I was accustomed to always having income, always having a nice stash; a cache of cash, being able to pretty much do whatever I wanted and having whatever I wanted. These are true stories. When I turned 16, my parents said I needed to get a job. I had wanted to work at 15, but I wasn’t allowed. They didn’t have to tell me. I wanted my own stuff. I don’t like having to depend on anyone for ANYTHING. So you know now that the antithesis of this corollary has developed, I’m reading to pull my eyebrows and goatee out (since I’m bald, that’s about the only hair I have remaining to actually pull out).
I apply to graduate school and I need 17 places to send “official transcripts” and their lackadaisical turnaround times with delivering information. Meanwhile, I’m in a time-sensitive application process. It’s like my real estate — FIRST COME, FIRST SERVE. I do not need this.
I have dealt with at least 15 New York City public agencies this year. Never once have I gotten a straight answer or timely responses/service. I am the complete opposite. I despise this. People who know me KNOW 1) when I say I’m going to do something, barring extenuating circumstances beyond my control, I DO IT, 2) I don’t like waiting for people (only to find out they were being flippant and had no consideration for my having to wait), so I don’t like making people wait for me. I even apologize if I’m “ON TIME” for an appointment, because I fashion myself to be on Tom Coughlin time. I could totally play for that guy as my coach, BTW. He and I are a lot alike (and apparently so am I and Larry David).
I have a cadre of friends and associates, but it seems like everyone is being pulled to the ends of the earth and for whatever reason, we cannot interface to bring any of these ideas and business endeavors of ours to fruition. Hell, I can barely even hang out with any of my friends on a casual level — even if it’s just drinks at Nevada Smith’s, a lounge or club in the MPD with Ms. Blu Moon and her events, one of the old chill spots in Harlem World or the Heights, or even hang out with the ever-entertaining Vazquez sisters ha.
And don’t let me get started on how everywhere I turn, money is the sole obstacle in preventing me from moving forward with my plans. From age 16 to age 27, this was NEVER an issue (except when I had to ‘settle’ for the Nissan 350Z instead of getting the Lexus LS400 or MB CL430 — both of which I had the means to buy in 2003, mind you — near-perfect 814 credit score, healthy salary, no debts, etc.) so for it to be the preeminent blockage DAILY for me — well, you already know the theme by now.
IT DRIVES ME NUTS.
This is beyond the surface. This is a spiritual thing. I’ve been humbled for years (despite what my most fervent detractors will still claim — I was never the “arrogant douche” that some claim; some of them were scorned women who were just upset I paid them no mind, some of them are dudes with inferiority complexes and insecurities; none of which I had any hand in developing), so I am all out of solutions at this point.
But now that I’ve put it out there, I wanna shift focus. I was about to explode yesterday. I decided to not stay out in public last night, because I swear I would’ve beaten someone until I passed out from fatigue if the wrong person made me have to set it.
I love how women can get hurt by ONE guy — and all of a sudden they wanna turn gay or spend the rest of their lives being willful Old Maids. You won’t ever hear me quote Jay on anything post-1998, but this time it is fitting — if I chick spurns me (and being supremely confident, I can admit it happens on average about once a year since I’ve been 18), it’s “ON TO THE NEXT ONE”. What I look like turning fag? Or complaining about women incessantly? Despite what some will claim with what I have posted over the 6 years I’ve been on Facebook, I don’t complain. I point things out. Besides, we hear women complain and imagine scenarios that don’t exist — about men 1,000 times more often. Can a guy (or even another woman) ONCE call women out for the things THEY do, without that one time immediately get turned back into “well, what about the MEN?”
What do you MEAN, “what about the MEN?” We hear you complain like there’s no tomorrow about men. I could set my watch hourly by how often I hear and read a complaint daily. Women aren’t perfect. I’m an observant man who actually has the ability to articulate what I intend to convey (or obfuscate, when I want to insult those with sub-120 IQs while simultaneously smiling in their faces and emitting verbiage that they never grasped since they attempted to clown me while I was expanding my vocabulary and they were on a line trying to cop the newest this or that with their Wendy’s check). Do I not have the right to do this DEAR GOD?
Anyway, I didn’t even write about everything that has been nagging me of late, but I had to get some of it off my chest before I flew off the handle.
If you didn’t like what I said… well, you were warned — I didn’t care what you thought before I began writing and I certainly don’t now.
And as always, if you have a problem, TURN OFF YOUR STATION.