Chauntecleer of the Pricking Cock

So I rented a couple of tiny lockers at a local storage facility today. The middle-aged lady who was preparing my contract was very friendly; we engaged in light conversation of trivial matters. While I enjoyed talking with her at first, I became weary of her laughter: she giggled the entire time that I was talking with her!

After I finished signing the contract, I asked if I could buy some padlocks for my lockers. She actually gave me the locks for free! Well, that was nice of her, I thought. It's always nice to get free stuff.

But the next thing that she said definitely freaked me out. This is a married, middle-aged woman, after all. She told me:

"Why don't you come back and look me up? I'll give you all the discounts that you'd ever want."

WTF!

I was definitely taken aback. Perhaps I'm wrong in interpreting things, but it kind of seemed as though she was coming on to me.

What's up with middle aged women hitting on guys twenty or more years their younger? This isn't the first time that this has happened to me.

For the record, I'm not a fan of men dating women with such an age difference, either.

But age is irrelevant. This woman is married! Ewwwww!

Men are told that "real men don't cry."

And as a man, I don't cry often; it's been at least over a year since I last cried.

But yet, I cried today. Nobody knows this but me. And now, the blogosphere also knows it.

I'll just say that someone that I care about has forever left my life today. A, wherever you end up in life, I will miss you. It's too bad that I could never tell you that.

Labels: Life's Pitfalls

Well, I've taken my prerequisite courses in English, so now it's time to take the GRE and apply for graduate programs. I have a lot of work to do; I need to research these programs big time!

And I need to write and revise my manuscripts.

I'm also going to being looking for a full time job. I won't be going to grad school until the fall of 2008, so I might as well work. I'm moving out of my parent's house by the end of the summer. I have to. It's time for me to take responsibility for myself.

And, importantly, I need to start getting out there and meeting people. I'm woefully unskilled at socializing!

Today the professor of my Chaucer class asked an interesting question. She queried the women of the class about who they enjoy fantasizing about. And out of all the men in the world, only two names came up: Brad Pitt and Orlando Bloom.

My question is: why?

I know that I might seem like a jealous man, but I really don't understand all of the craze about fantasizing about celebrities. Sure, they might be "The Beautiful People," but like Hollywood itself, they are fake. I don't mean to say that Brad and Orlando are fake people; they are as real and as human as I am, and they suffer in their own ways, as I do. But the images of Brad and Orlando are indeed fake. The men and women of the silver screen hire expensive cosmetic experts to make them seem more beautiful than reality. Actors and actresses, along with other celebrities, are unattainable by regular humans such as you or me. Is it this unattainability that makes them worthy of fantasies? If the women of my class actually knew these men, would they continue to fantasize about them? I don't think so...at least not in the fashion that they currently do.

Yes, celebrities are beautiful people (in general), but they are no more beautiful than average human beings in my opinion. They just have the money to hire cosmologists and personal trainers. And there is no doubt that their looks are bolstered by digitalized lighting techniques in the films that they act in. They have more of an appearance of beauty rather than actually being beautiful. Appearance seems to be more appreciated in our society. And even though there might be some actors and actresses who actually are beautiful, the public could care less. They have placed the appearance of these celebrities upon pedestals and worshipped their appearance over who these people actually are.

Give me a natural-looking, intelligent woman any day over those overpaid Barbie dolls of Hollywood.

As for me, I'd rather fantasize about someone I know. Someone who is attainable. Someone that I could appreciate for more than appearance.

So my message to the women of the class is that they should fantasize about men that they could actually meet in real life. Namely me! (Hehehe. I'm kidding.....or am I?)

I still live! Though not everyone around me will continue on in life. :( More on that later.

It's been forever since I've updates this blog; I've been so busy! My life has been going very well until recently, and I've been quite busy!

The other day I was involved in a social situation with a large number of German people, and they decided (of course) to stroll into a bar. I didn't want to seem like a party pooper, so I followed them in there. I sat down next to my friend Seth and ordered (what else) WATER! Since the beginning of the water, I've only been drinking water and milk, and I didn't want to break the streak. ^.^ Seth called me a "cheap bastard." Indeed.

So this young woman sits down right by me, and we begin to converse. She was pretty, but in a conventional way. You know, wearing a bit of make up and wearing a low-cut tank top to show off her cleavage. She was a Hollywood-type blonde. So in the middle of our boring conversation (to me), I realized that she was hitting on me a bit. She kept on talking about how she broke up with her boyfriend recently and is now coping with being single. She suggested that we go dance, but I actually declined (I am NOT a dancer, but it would be nice to learn in a comfortable environment). No biggie to her...she then invited me to go camping with her in the Texas Hill Country despite the fact that I didn't know her AT ALL. And to put icing on the cake, SHE asked for my phone number, not the other way around.

But even though she's a really pretty girl, I was not at all interested. She just seemed...empty. There was no potential for us to have great conversations, and to me, that is absolutely essential. I have no interest in women that don't stimulate my mind, no matter how hot they may be. I was just surprised that a "hot" woman was putting the moves on me a bit. I suppose anything is possible, hahaha.

Creative writing is a lot of fun. My teacher and the class enjoyed my short story a great deal, and I am currently working on a revision of it. Once it's finished, I hope to send it off to the campus literary magazine for publication. There's no guarantee that it will be printed, but it's worth a shot. Writing has greatly improved the quality of my life!

Sadly, my grandfather is dying. He has terminal cancer, and it looks as though he won't make it one more month. I'm going to go see him tomorrow. It's weird, despite the fact that I've known him all my life, I don't feel as though I really know him. We are vastly different people with vastly different views, and I have always felt uncomfortable in his presence because of that. But I do love him, so I hope that we can have a few more good moments together before he passes on.

Wow, this post was random, and I'm tired, so I'll have to end it there. Perhaps I'll update more often!

Right after the rain stopped and the sun came out, the young boy decided that it would be a pleasant day to walk in the neighborhood park after all. The mellifluous song of the birds and the radiant warmth of the sun's rays on the back of his neck filled his soul with life's exhilaration.

As the boy trotted along on the cobblestone path under the watchful gaze of tall pine trees, he saw a stone directly ahead of him on the walking trail. The stone, brightly glistening from the sun's rays after the recent rain, beckoned him to kick it. He lopped towards it, taking mighty strides, reared his leg, and kicked it with everything that he had.

It was at that moment that he learned the object he kicked was not a stone. No, it was dog shit. Blindingly resplendent dog shit.

So while his soul might have been filled with life's exhilaration a few seconds earlier, he would now have to settle for a sole full of shit.

Labels: micro fiction

Alcohol is the perfect medium to enable insecure people to feel secure whenever they find themselves in questionable social situations that their good, sober sense would otherwise tell them to stay the hell away from.