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michaelramblings · 4 years

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I Count Myself Lucky

I can’t explain why my mind works this way but it always has.

Maybe to bring my life to some sort of honest medium to balance happiness and sadness into a complete understanding? I don’t know.

Growing up I was given everything a person needed. Notice how I said “needed” not “wanted”. Was I given a lot more than what many people are? Yes. Was I given as much as many other people? Definitely not. Somewhere in the middle. I received many gifts that I wanted but I never felt I was spoiled. Born into a family that was financially sound, I never struggled to find a meal any day of my life. I’m not taking into account my picky (also privileged) choices of what I didn’t want to eat but even when my parents said I had to finish eating dinner or I didn’t get dessert, I still wouldn’t eat it. Hard-headed from the earliest of ages.

I knew what I liked and what I didn’t.

Playing sports, I never cared much for people praising me if I did a good job. To say I didn’t have a confidence in my abilities, would be a lie. When I was younger, I felt like I was athletically superior to some people in certain sports. Maybe that’s why I’ve always been great about criticism. I only want to get better at a craft and would be willing to listen to anyone, no matter how poorly they may be at communicating the information.

Anyone can teach you anything. You have to pay more attention to the lesson being taught than how it is taught. If something isn’t taught well, you learn how not to teach something, which is a lesson in itself.

In school, I remember the worst instances over any overly exciting moments. I remember in first grade when I wrote mean notes to a girl in class. She told on me to the teacher, my mom was called in, and I got in trouble.

In fifth grade, I remember getting sent to “Think Time” because I was talking to someone in line in class (everyone in class had to talk to the teacher about a paper or something). I wasn’t paying attention.

In middle school, my locker neighbor and I made fun of the girl next to us regularly. She could hear us... because she was next to us. We got in trouble.

In 7th grade, a girl (whose name I remember) asked me, “why can’t you ever be cool?” Social peer pressure? sure. I thought about it critically and learned to have a sort of self-control over the “weird” things I may say. The objective in life is to be understood so sometimes you should be understanding of other viewpoints.

That same year I was in wood shop and I made a wood sculpture that said “Spazz.” Someone in class (whose name I remember) said, “Being a ‘Spazz’ isn’t a good thing.” So I thought about it and learned to adapt to be better understood. It’s not about suppressing oneself, just learning how to express it in a different way. Possibly through a passion.

During this same 7th grade year, I became friends with someone whom I refer to as my “best friend” to this day. Someone who, to this day, holds a moral compass that I’ve been so grateful to have been surrounded by. Growing up, I had parents and a sister who portrayed a strong sense of morality, but it was finding someone who I didn’t have to live with that could help solidify a genuine meaning and understanding as to why one acts or says the things one should. It became a strong basis, during one of the most influential periods of time of a person’s life, for what has been the better part of 13 years. (half of my life, as I write this)

It’s the reason why I never succumbed to the many peer pressures so many people unfortunately do at such a young age. We never drank, never consumed drugs. Our weekends consisted of going to Walmart, going bowling, or going to the movies. We found joy in the conversations we had. It was simple. Not to sound like a middle-aged man, but we didn’t have the luxuries of technology to distract us from real-life experiences, real-life conversations.

In December 2011, a moment helped to change a dynamic in a relationship of someone close to me. To lay the groundwork so there isn’t any confusion, I’ll start off by saying that I’m a picky eater. (Have patience, there’s a reason why I say this) There’s a certain food that I haven’t had many times since because of the effect this situation had on me. All I can do is think of this situation every time I have it.

To continue though, I’m a picky eater. One of my most favorite dishes is/was chicken cordon bleu casserole. I thought/think it’s absolutely delicious, literally everything about it. Well, except for the bread crumbs on top. Anyone who understands certain food textures and how some aren’t as comfortable to eat in general or with other foods may not understand but just know I don’t like it on this specific dish. As I had many times before, I always removed the top of the dish where the bread crumbs sit. I’d scrape them to the side and spoon out the noodles and other entrails of the casserole and slap them on my plate. Someone in my family came over to me as I was doing this.

Note I had always done this, every single time we’d ever have it for dinner so this wasn’t anything knew. This person makes the comment, as they had before, that I needed to eat that part. Mind you, my understanding was this person was also willing to eat the parts I didn’t eat of this specific dish. “I don’t like this part, I never had”, I vaguely remember saying. For some reason, (one I don’t remember) it got to a point where this person needed to physically push against me to assert a sort of dominance; a reminder that they were in charge. The kitchen lights were fittingly dim.

I pushed back, something I don’t think they expected. They stepped forward, onto the rug in our kitchen. The force they approached me with must have been so great as to slip out from in front to behind them. They slipped, hitting their head on the kitchen countertop, falling to the ground. I lean down to ask if they’re okay. They tell me, “go away.” I go to my bedroom over the sound of them yelling for my sister for help. My sister takes them to hospital.

Even in writing this, I couldn’t help but vividly remember the physical pain I felt I caused this person. I can’t help but cry at the thought of this moment. People understand things the way they understand things. People like what they like. Although people may not like what you like, you can’t force them to like what they don’t like.

ALL of this and more formed who’ve I become over my 26 years of life. All of which built a foundation for understanding of who I am and what I stand for. As we live in the year 2020, I can’t help but think of the social changes happening in the world and especially who’ve lived in the limelight for such a long time. Recording their lives regularly and capturing every thought-turned-to-skit on camera. Years later, they are having to deal with a blowback on what they profited on, the ideas they thought were without flaw. I count myself lucky I’ve had the experiences I’ve had. Allowing other people to live and make mistakes so we can learn from them; it’s one of the best things you can take away from another person’s life. Even if you’re not living a situation, you can always learn something from one. That’s the difference between being ignorant and arrogant, and having an absence of pride with a willingness to accept you don’t know everything.

The big thing to take away from this is I’ve NEVER victimized myself during these situations. I’ve taken responsibility in some way for each situation. We all play a role into why moments happen the way they do, good or bad. Life happens and it happens differently to different people. What we can control is how to perceive it. How to understand how our role and our moment in that situation could have better helped the outcome. Sometimes it’s even recognizing how another person is reacting during a situation and understanding how positively or negatively their actions effected the outcome. Looking at the world from this perspective is exhausting, but necessary. It’s the difference between being ignorant and arrogant, and having an absence of pride with a willingness to accept you don’t know everything.

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michaelramblings · 5 years

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Idk, my thoughts?

The issue with being me sometimes is finding that no one attempts to understand you and in so you find yourself lacking full connections with anyone. Only partial ones that seem without purpose or reason. Ones that maybe lack mutual respect detrimental to what could be positive, uplifting relationships.

Someone who is curious to know why without belittling statements as to the intellectual basis of an individual. Even just to amuse the individual and take into consideration a hypothetical situation or idea, not one that should happen or could happen but can attempt or would attempt to understand the situation and to talk it through.

Maybe the written word is important because it doesn't hold emphasis. The reader can interpret and hear the authors voice as they want. No inflections of the voice are apart of the context

Should writing become my friend so that I'm able to develop my thought processes better so distributing the ideas to many people wouldn't be such difficulty. I want to be understood so deeply but fear that I never will. This void is where I live and no one can understand my void or why it exists so they damn the very existence of it. Shaming the void in the hopes it will go away but it doesn't. It grows deeper and deeper. As the communication between one another fails us and two roads that could intercept simply curl in opposite direction instead of an intersection that could connect them. Either road leads from 2 different places. Most people haven't gone down both roads but for those who do remove ignorance and gain understanding.

We'll never get there though. For to get there requires sacrifice, one which people have built their livelihoods on; their identity. Changing our own identity becomes so crucial in the understanding of one another. But some walls are too thick to be torn down as though they require something so strong and forceful that the mere presence of it is like a war on a palace instead of a big door opening into a world of openness and acceptance. Acceptance being the information is received and understood. Then becomes the moment of "does this information become relevant." And even if it doesn't, maybe holding it in and considering a future purpose for it becomes necessary instead of total disregard.

I want so much from the place I call home but a shroud of that which I do not like takes over so much; arrogance, agenda, lacking uplifting, positive morals, lacking challenging thoughts and actions. We find ourselves in this spot of wanting to be but never will be because we try to skip sooooo many steps to be where others are and that's why home will never succeed. It requires a change that the people here are not willing to accept

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michaelramblings · 6 years

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Instacart

I read an article that said writing every day or every other day is beneficial to keeping the skill intact as well as improving. Makes sense, I guess. What becomes difficult for me is thinking of what to talk about. So today, I’m going to talk about Instacart.

Instacart is an app where people can go online and shop for their grocery list at a variety of different stores. Someone then goes and picks up those groceries from whichever specified store is chosen. After which, the person deliver those groceries to the person’s residence.

Pretty simple work if you enjoy working for yourself, enjoy working when you want to, and being able to build good relationships with people, which in turn helps you receive good reviews and good tips.

It’s a little different from anything I’ve ever personally done. You can make far more money than working typical delivery services through some pizza chain or other restaurant chain. You can make as much as $25 an hour which is incredible for anyone who’s looking to be their own boss.

With every upside, there are downsides. There can be days where you don’t work even if you scheduled a 5 hour shift. Yeah, even a 5 HOUR SHIFT. Your work is solely dependent on their being a customer base. Makes sense if there’s no demand, there’s no working. If you work for 90 hours over the course of 3 weeks, you get dibs on the following weeks’ schedule earlier than those who only work part-time. So if you put Instacart first, they’ll put you first.

On a positive note it, it’s an ever growing company. As people are needing more tedious tasks done, their can always be people willing to work to finish the task. I, personally don’t see that becoming less desirable for those who are too busy to complete these tasks. Delivery services were created for a reason; convenience. People will never give it up. Therefore, demand will only grow, giving purpose to jobs just like this.

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michaelramblings · 6 years

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Here’s an idea for a show on YouTube I would love to do. Technology is ever changing in order to make our lives more convenient and easy. I am in no way a “tech savvy” individual. Basically, I don’t like things that may be too complicated to explain why they are an awesome buy.

So, for an idea, I recently bought an extension cord/USB plug in that I think is awesome. It’s not like the typical sorts of extensions chords you buy that’s like 50 feet in length, some weird neutral color and only using it to power your outside holiday lights. I’m talking about a sleeker, designer-esk look used on the inside of your home, so when you need an outlet for your phone chord, laptop chord, or even for your gamer controller, that allows you to be in a comfortable location and be able to use your device from practically anywhere. At 8 feet of length you really can be almost anywhere in a room and be at a comfortable distance to use it. It comes with 2 U.S. standard plug ins on the side as well as 3 USB-A outlets (used for the usual phone chords and many other things) and a USB-C outlet, which according to my sister, is what most phone outlets will eventually be using. But since I find it to be such a beneficial thing in a living room area where multiple friends can plug in their phones for charging purposes, It can be an ideal location for get togethers of sorts. One, nonetheless, where people don’t need to have remembered the plug in for their phone, just the chord. convenience not only for the home owner/renter, but even the many guests who come by.

This is an idea, anyways of something that can be simple to understand/explain for the viewer. The video’s aren’t long, meaning less words being said, meaning greater value being built.

One idea for a video anyways.

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michaelramblings · 7 years

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3/12/18

I've been working with Zealous United since October 31st, 2017. Our job is direct marketing products/services to Sam's Club and Costco members. I'd say I'm at a tipping point but if you'd been along the ride with me, I think you'd understand.

Coming in to the company, I was looking for a more resumé-friendly position. I had been driving a shuttle for my apartment complex and unless I was desiring a career in said field, I should look elsewhere. So I found ZU and an opportunity with a culture I felt I could thrive in. Friendly, encouraging, growth-inspired to name a few. What I've come to find out over these past 2 months of being there is everything isn't as great as it seemed.

Reason one, 5 people have found themselves no longer working there; either by way of quitting or being fired. By the way, those 5 were just leaders, aka Campaign Managers. This isn't counting those who ended their stay with ZU before making it to leadership.

"Not right for the job" is generally the statement made for those no longer in the business. Just like how shuttling wasn't for me. I made the choice because I sought better for my career and my life. I can't say I haven't learned my fair share of skills and that there couldn't be more skills to be learned. But boy has my frustration been met recently.

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michaelramblings · 8 years

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So I've been meaning to eventually start writing more. More importantly writing more for Tumblr so I can somewhat date the instances of my thoughts and ideas. Yeah, sure I could use Word but I can't scroll through them as easily. So let me begin, I guess. I sit at my desk, or in this instant on my toilet, scrolling through Facebook at the many posts from friends, family, acquaintances, and various different pages. The Chive is one I've followed for some time now as I thoroughly enjoy the types of articles, stories, or whatever you would call it they put out. The most recent one I've read is one about the 'Cash me Ousside' (CMO) girl from Doctor Phil. Reading through it, granted this isn't an "Onion" type of page so I do look at it as being a somewhat relevant news cite, I found myself upset yet again at the type of person we have made relevant in this society. Let me describe generally what I read. So to begin, in the last year, CMO girl has had the police called to their home over fifty times. Yeah, FIFTY. Her father, who lost custody over the CMO girl a few years ago, is a police officer himself. That's not a lot of facts to work with but let's do that anyways. CMO girl is 13 now and was around 6 when her parents divorced. She was known for being kinder or nicer when she was younger but has since been, well, you know how she became famous. So I lied, these are some more facts that may have relevancy. So within 7 years of being divorced, this little girl has grown to be completely delinquent, granted she is growing in popularity amongst the internet. A quite frustrating thing for myself to hear. Now we could focus on the fact that maybe the lack of a father figure being around, and a police officer father at that, may be a reason she has become this way but I think there is a bigger issue to focus on. The biggest issue being the internet, in my opinion of course. So we have this tendency as the internet to make people so undeserving a big part of society and, in turn, many social movements. Now I'm not saying that this CMO girl does anything now to involve political or anything such huge but God knows most teens and twenty-year-olds know her slogan. So I guess more so trendy than a social movement, whatever. Side note to slide this off track for a second. I was typing "trendy" and supposedly "Tendulkar" is close to that. Like how exactly does that word come up in a sentence, I don't know. Anyways back to the internets mistakes. Have we learned nothing from Kim Kardashian? Need I say another. The whole family is trash and do nothing for society. Young females strive to be like this trashy family and now this young CMO girl will be a somewhat role model for the younger generation as this teenager society attempts to find themselves as they mature and grow. Meanwhile this girl will endure a horrible reality as the internet that brought her into this level of fame will now tear her down as she attempts to grow and mature. Basically put, the internet and all of its "interneters", as I'll put it, need to learn a sort of self control. She will be handed opportunities simply because of all this hubbub that's occurred in the last few months. I think this will disallow her, like many other younger people who become famous via Internet or otherwise, to mature properly. Now I know anyone reading this would ask me "You've never met her, why do you care about her?" My response, "Why do I have to meet her to care about her? Why can't someone, including yourself or I, simply put, give a Fuck about someone we don't know?" What sort of importance is any individual doing in this society with their emotions that's more God damn important than caring for others. Because people who don't, put focus on themselves or put their focus into hating others. Both detestable mindsets beyond measure. If you haven't noticed yet, I'm blunt. I don't enjoy dealing with people's shit even though I occasionally do. Hardest thing a passive person can endure. Passive, however, I am not. So I care for all people until I'm given a reason not to. I think she needs a father figure in her life. That being her own father, a police officer. He can help to set her on the right track and probably help her better with the onslaught the internet and society will dole out to her for the foreseeable future and maybe the rest of her life. Attempting to help people with a certain fate which was dealt voluntarily or otherwise is something we, as a society should want to do. Is it selfish if we don't? I think it depends on the situation. Many people don't care to give any sort of effort.

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michaelramblings · 8 years

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Not the Same

Parents commonly say,

“go to your room and think about what you’ve done!”

How did we respond?

We pouted and didn’t know what we had done.

From this we learned the importance of self reflection

of how our words or actions can effect one another

this takes time to learn

Yet there is a constant conflict between

friends, family, the rest of society

Growing up you learn to not be like everyone else,

yet be like everyone else.

Because similar is easy to understand.

but one never learned to be similar.

One chose to be hard to understand.

Some people called that, “being different”.

One views it as an opportunity to stand out.

You won’t forget them.

You can’t.

They were too different.

No one forgets different.

You may loathe different.

You may hate different.

But you won’t forget.

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michaelramblings · 8 years

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Unmistakable

Being told my white privilege keeps me from fear

is a huge misconception. Let’s make a few things clear.

I didn’t grow up with hate in my heart. At first, ignorance.

Which I learned to overcome through much education since.

No, I didn’t grow up with a dark pigment in my skin.

Prejudices, without my control, defining me time and time again.

Yet I’ve seen the pain that many people go through

without having walked a single step in their shoes.

Each day I grow to appreciate those words MLK said.

Words that have since held stronger since he was shot dead.

A fear of change, a rethinking that what we might view is wrong.

A work in progress, a few hundred years in the making, still strong.

We will not change because one man seems to view things radically.

We will not change if he tells us things will happen emphatically.

Who we are, what we have become as a country is unbreakable.

To think with this mindset is completely unmistakable.

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michaelramblings · 8 years

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An Anxiousness for the Same

They think too much

And yet they have the time to walk and think too much

Often climbing into their own thoughts

Loneliness drives them mad, yet gives them a piece of mind

A single thought can provoke so much anger

or maybe it’s just frustration

They've been taught the world is full of fear

but that it is capable of love

And they turn on the television and see hatred throughout

pixels illuminating negativity

but they sees a dark pixel in the screen

an opportunity for change

Even if it’s a chance to make a corpse smile

They take it

They don't always succeed but they're glad they gave it a try

They wish more people would look at that pixel in the screen

And not just see something that is irritating to look at

That which is different and the presence of fear in one room

and how some people can’t tell them apart

Just sitting by idly watching,

waiting for it to change

but it doesn’t

It may never

Yet we are all still anxiously waiting.

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michaelramblings · 8 years

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Oppressively Conditioned

Imagine being that one person

who isn’t like the rest

They don’t just do things

to make themselves seem like the best

Rather they learned about things

that are right and are wrong.

The last thing on their mind

is if they get along.

Yet this is subjective

For one views things differently

For what is good and what is bad

we should agree on, shouldn’t we?

People grow up different ways

much different from the rest.

That view things like crime as good

and those we separate from the best.

But because we disregard them

and they have to make a living.

Go home to a house with one bedsheet

and an unfinished ceiling

We forget to think about life

from another’s perspective

continue to live in a society

that is taught to be oppressive.

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michaelramblings · 8 years

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Inner Shine

A shooting star that doesn’t shine

For its glow is not what makes it hie.

Many people don’t see its perfect edges

Because inside the star the possibilities are endless.

It wasn’t formed on how many people would gaze

An inner structure formed by some months and some days.

Rather some years and some time would always pass by

and the millions of eyes that would look in the night.

Eventually someone would recognize

what people cannot always see just with their eyes.

With their mind they saw the beauty and power inside

And with that recognition, the star began to shine.

Yet others didn’t or couldn’t believe

For their blinders hadn’t opened wide enough to see.

What had made the star so important and special

was its imperfect outside and its unlimited potential.

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michaelramblings · 8 years

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Cleveland, Ohio

Cleveland, Ohio. Could God have created a worse bowel movement in the history of mankind? Well, I suppose there is the Middle East. At least it sucks a little less since the Cavaliers won the NBA championship. It’s just those damn Browns. It’s like they purposely named the team after a piece of shit. You know what’s worse than Cleveland or, dare I say, the Cleveland Browns? How about the guy that represents those players that just can’t seem to stay out of trouble? That guy who has to deal with all that stupid shit players seem to find themselves in. Hi, my name is Taft Brennan. I’m the guy who deals with that stupid shit.

I’ve lived here for a little over twenty years now, moving after the O.J. verdict in ‘94. There’s always going to be a job for a guy like me as long as there are dumb fucks out there willing to smoke some dope or, hell, even kill a guy. Many clients have walked through my door begging for me to represent them; as far back as Ray Lewis. He was accused of murder back in ’01, found not guilty. Ray was one of the few who turned out to be one of those guys who can really get their life back on track. It’s too bad more people aren’t like him.

This job, needless to say, does have its stressful moments. My assistant, Sarah Blake, helps to make my days go by a little easier. She was a small town girl. Some would say she was living in a lonely world. That’s enough Journey quoting. Growing up she kept to herself, she told me, and only after realizing her passion of sports and law did she start gaining comfortability with socializing. Now, you couldn’t tell of her issue. I know I couldn’t. To me, she’s always had a stress-free way about her. Then again, I’ve never seen a stress line on that woman, almost resembling a Barbie doll. Not that stress lines would make her look any less attractive. Her personality would drive any man’s desires.

“Here’s your coffee, Mr. Brennan,” she tells me while handing me a white mug.

“Thank you, Sarah,” I reply honestly, “you’re the one person who helps keep me sane in this town.”

“Well, that’s kind of my job,” she responds sarcastically with a half-smile.

Many bosses would fire an assistant after a remark like that. Not me. It sounds weird, but I don’t mind it. I almost welcome it. God knows I would resent an employee sucking up to me every day. There’s something real about her words. She never dances around what she wants to say, she just says it. I bet that bed of hers sees eight hours of wakeless sleep per night because of it. Unlike me, whose nights mostly consist of downing a few Nyquil and even that doesn’t always do the trick. It’s probably because of all the misbehaved athletes out there. Sarah would rather see them crash and fail, well, at least the ones that don’t show promise. She seems to have an eye for that. Maybe that’s just why I hired her.

“Okay, we’ve got another one. And by ‘another one’ I mean the same guy it’s been the last year and a half” she tells me. I’m sitting at my desk, head rested on my hands after another sleepless night.

“Oh my God. Its Gordon again isn’t it?” I ask irritated. She gets up and stands next to my office door, looking in at me with the same irritated look and an almost predictable answer, “yes.”

Josh Gordon has played wide receiver for the Cleveland Browns since being drafted in the second round of the NFL supplemental Draft in 2012. Well, what I should say is he’s been a part of the organization since 2012. He’s had some off the field issues. Or maybe I should say issue since it’s been the same recurring one. Apparently, it’s really difficult to not smoke weed. Since that is so difficult, the NFL made the not so difficult decision to suspend him for the entire 2015 season, a year following a ten game suspension.

I grab my stress ball in the top right corner drawer of my desk. Squeezing it, a high pitch sound similar to wind chimes comes out. I didn’t understand the technology of it, but I didn’t care. My stress was beginning to be relieved.

After twenty minutes of ranting to Sarah, an hour nap, and a nearly stressed out stress ball, I call up Josh to see how we can deal with this issue.

“Hey Josh, so I hear you’ve gotten yourself into another situation?” I ask kindly

“Dude, it’s just weed! I do not understand why they make such a big deal about it. It’s not like I’m smoking crack or nothing,” he yells.

“Josh, I understand how you view this as not that big of a deal. I really do. I agree that crack is much worse than weed, although I’ve never done either, but you can’t just do it because you find it okay. You’ve been suspended for 30 games in the last three years because of this. Do you want to play football in the NFL ever again? It certainly doesn’t seem like you do.

“The league is fucking stupid, man. Roger Goodell can suck my dick! Weed has never hurt nobody and doesn’t do anything for me on the field.” Roger Goodell is the National Football League (NFL) commissioner. To Josh’s point, Goodell has sucked many dicks over his many years as the commissioner. We mean this metaphorically, of course. No one really has an interest in his sexuality. His wife probably has no interest either. To get back to my point, Goodell has had a recent tendency of suspending players for an odd amount of time; a yearlong suspension for Josh and another former NFL player for smoking weed and an initial two-game suspension for a player who hit his girlfriend. Oh, and by the way, that hit was also caught on camera. So, the NFL teaches people that domestic violence is worse than smoking a joint. I don’t approve of either, but at least I know what the standard is. I’m kidding of course. I respond to Josh’s comment.

“Well, I can’t say you’re wrong about that. Considering you haven’t played on a field in over a year,” I say sarcastically back to him. “If you expect to see yourself on the field anymore, maybe you should get some help.”

Josh hangs up. I walk over to my desk and grab the glass bottle of liquor and poor it into a glass sitting next to it. The smell of Sarah’s perfume catches my senses. Turning around, she asks me about the call.

“So what did he say?” she says, arms crossed.

“He told me ‘Goodell can suck his dick’” I respond, “I really wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. By the way, Johnny Manziel called. He wants to know if he can come back to football now?

“Why the hell would a team want him? He’d probably throw a party in the actual stadium. You win the Heisman Trophy, leave college, and play professional football while still partying as if you’re in college, and you think a team wants you, really?”

Johnny also played for the Brown’s for two seasons before being cut for lying about partying during the team’s week off during the season. It’s as though the Browns are like a lower quality Dallas Cowboy’s. Except they have more dipshit players, but it just seems to help their team get better. The Browns are like that one friend we all have that doesn’t know how to be original, so they just try and copy the more talented friend and look ridiculous trying.

I look back at her and say, “Sarah, tell him he might as well stay in college. At least he’s somewhere where he can party in peace.”

She turns her head sideways with a smirk on her face. “I don’t think he’s the peaceful kind of partier.” I glare at her. “I’m just saying,” she finishes while turning around and walking back to her desk. I grab my glass of liquor and finish it. Walking out of my office, with my liquor in hand, I walk past Sarah.

“We’ll see you Monday, Sarah,” I say to her with a smile and wave.

“Yeah, have a good one, Taft,” she says back the same way. “You’re taking your booze with you?”

“This day has certainly been one to forget. I plan on taking this bad boy to Edgewater and making a real party out of it!” I say enthusiastically. She starts to chuckle.

“That looks like quite a bit? How about I help finish that bad boy off?” she says to me smiling. I had just begun opening the door to walk out and the sound of wind chimes is heard over the speakers as it usually does when someone walks in or out. I step back inside, the door shuts.

I start walking back towards her, “I don’t know if you can handle this. It’s pretty strong stuff. I wouldn’t want you throwing up everywhere.”

“Oh, please. I’ve had stronger drinks when I was eighteen,” she says walking towards me.” If anyone is going to throw up, it’s probably going to be you.” She grabs the bottle from my hand and walks out the door. I follow. Wind chimes sound again as the door closes.

We drive to Edgewater, one of the parks near the urban area of Cleveland. It’s where I go when I want to relax. I love the smell of the lake and the feeling of it brushing from the water to my face. The sounds of tree leaves are like chimes hanging from my parent’s backyard porch; a sound well too familiar. I picture myself sitting on one of my father’s white chairs during the fall, staring out at his roses and vegetable garden.

Getting out of the car, we walk up to a bench bordering the sidewalk, overlooking the view of Lake Erie. Sarah opens the bottle and takes a drink, I follow. We start talking about the many clients we have had over our years in the industry, laughing for what seemed like forever. It was a night I’d never forget.

“So tell me this, Taft,” she says, then pausing, “why is it you got interested in taking care of these athletes?”

I thought about it for a second. Then, I responded.

“To be honest, I’m not sure why. I loved sports, I loved helping people, and the money is great, and is still pretty great.” I had never been so honest about this before to anyone, “But I don’t know if I still have it. I used to look at football with compassion and desire. It’s been twenty years and I’ve seen it all. The ins and outs that make this league, the players and all every damn stupid decision they make. Looking back at it, I really can’t say I’ve truly enjoyed a single day of this job.”

“Twenty years and you’ve never liked your job? How have you not realized this til just now?” She asks impatiently.

“One day in particular always flashes back into my mind. So on this day, she had arrived to work a little earlier than usual. When I pulled up with my car, I saw my assistant walking up to my car. Looking through my rearview, I figured she was walking out to hand me my daily cup of coffee; something she had never done and yet I didn’t think twice about it. She, from what I found out later, had just been arguing with her boyfriend over god knows what. One thing I came to find out was that her boyfriend and I own the same exact make, model, and color of car. As she gets closer to my car, I notice she has tears in her eyes and in her hands a metal ‘Louisville slugger’ baseball bat. In the blink of an eye, she pulled back, swung, and smashed my rearview window. Needless to say, she found out almost instantly it wasn’t her boyfriend. She then found out how quickly she would need to start looking for another job.”

Sarah interrupts, “So some crazy chick smashing your window was what exactly? looking at me puzzled.

I looked at her. “The following day, a young woman was waiting for me by my office. She walks up to me and says, “I have an interest in helping troubled football athletes and was wondering if you had an opening for a job?” She was an intelligent woman who, by the look in her eyes, I could tell had the drive and the wit to make it in the business. What she hadn’t known, and that I never told her, was that at the moment she was walking up to me. She reminded me of why I joined, she kept me going. Over the years we were together, as her drive to get better grew, my drive to never let her down grew. My feelings for her followed.”

A tear was brought to Sarah’s eye. She looked at me. “I never knew you felt that way.”

“I think I recently realized that,” I said with a smile. The wind wasn’t blowing but I felt the same relaxed feeling. She moved closer to me, putting her hand next to mine. I lean in and gently kiss her on the cheek. “I’ve wanted to do that for some time.”

“I’ve wanted to do this for some time.” She leans in and kisses me on my lips.

There was a moment of silence. All I could feel was a sense of pure pleasure. The best feeling I had felt since the first day I met her. I didn’t want it to end. What I did know is my moments as a lawyer needed to come to an end. She knew how I felt, it would only make things more difficult between us at work.

“I think I’m going to leave the business,” I tell her. She looks at me with confusion.

“I don’t love this business anymore,” I say to her. She looks away.

“I want you to take it over,” I tell her. She looks back at me. A glow starts to blossom on her face.

“Are you serious?” she says with excitement. “What will you do? Where will you go?”

“Don’t worry, Sarah. I’ll be right here. Have I ever told you how much I love the sound of wind blowing through the trees? It’s one of the most beautiful and soothing sounds I’ve ever heard. I want everyone to hear what I hear.”

“I don’t’ understand,” she says.

“Wind chimes,” I tell her. An even more confused look than before appears on her face. “My parents used to own these wind chimes that made the most beautiful sound just as those trees make there. I want to recreate that beauty.”

And that’s just what I did. I opened my own Chimes store. ‘Times for Chimes’ was the top selling store for wind chimes in the Cleveland area. That is until another wind chime craftsman moved into the same neighborhood calling their store ‘Chimesland, Ohio’. It immediately took over the majority of wind chimes sales, eventually running ‘Times for Chimes’ out of business. Sarah was doing well, becoming the best lawyer for troubled football players in the league. When she had discovered what had happened to me, she left me to be with newly single celebrity, Brad Pitt.

I was sitting at the park bench at Edgewater, the one where I kissed Sarah. Thinking about everything that had happened since I moved here, only one thing was really on my mind. The same thing I had thought since the day I moved here.

I really hate Cleveland.

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michaelramblings · 8 years

Text

Pursuing Happiness

It was perfect. Eighteen and a half years and it happened. If you ask me, I never thought it would’ve. When the idea of it started to blossom, I became fixated. But that’s how it always is. Just like it was in high school, for a brief period and only that once. Nonetheless, this was the same situation and even though it didn’t turn out the way I, or even she, expected, I wouldn’t change a thing.

Elementary school was the first time we met. It’s not that I remember. Her parents VHS tape of her first day of school also included me. Weird doesn’t describe it properly although not many couples can duplicate that same history. She was quiet and always smiling. I didn’t know her and didn’t talk to her but those two things I always remembered. After middle school, and those awkward years, we didn’t see each other until college. When we met again, something clicked.

She had lovely, flowing brunette hair. Large, beautiful eyes, like a maze you want to get lost in. Physically in shape, which cheerleading in high school helped to make sense of. Beauty so natural it was difficult to tell if make-up was present. I’d ask her occasionally if she was, she’d say, “no.” “Wow,” I’d think to myself. Never had I seen anything like her.

I was an athlete in high school. I’d say jock, but I’ve never had the mentality. That’s usually only connected with some kind of weight lifting, deep voiced, protein drinking, illiterate which I never felt applied to me. My grades were never straight A’s but never in the realm of failing. Soccer and football were my sports. Due to lack of competitive edge rather than athletic ability, my frequent position was bench. I was easy-going because I didn’t understand the need to be serious. College would eventually change that mentality.

One night in the middle of fall semester, 2012, sitting on the top bunk of my freshman dorm room bed, I hear a knock. Pulling the door lever towards me opens me to the view of three people; she was one. My name, on the door, was a familiar one to her. Me, dressed to impress the darkness of the room I was occupying, and her, dressed to impress everything and everyone else. A sucker in the presence of a beautiful woman, I was yanked from my room by her request. She had me by her pinky.

Her aroma was her own. It was a smell that I’ll never forget. It was soaked into her sheets and eventually my shirt; the same white T that I began wearing to bed every night. I was hypnotized by her perfume or conditioner or whatever it was. Like a fish on a line, I became hooked.

I started spending more time with her and less with my friends. As any eventual couple, we started to have this connection. This physical connection unlike any I had ever experienced. Trying new things, at the time, wasn’t something that was appealing, but I was okay with everything that was happening. Before, my life was a window-less and door-less room. She showed up and what was once a box of walls appeared an opening full of experiences different from any I had known.

We looked at each other with such admiration that soon evolved to desire. She told me that when you become attracted to someone, your pupils dilate, they become bigger. I imagined my eyes became as wide and dark as the night sky. Gazing into her eyes, I saw the same. It seemed perfect. We were both happy and that’s all that mattered. The only thing is, that feeling doesn’t last forever.

It was the second semester of our freshman year. One month into our relationship. She texted me about meeting up for lunch and I wouldn’t have said no. We agreed to meet in front of the building where all the teaching classes are held. 10 minutes later we were holding hands and walking. You know that feeling of being in a relationship where everything seemed brighter? The grass seemed greener, the sky bluer, and the air cleaner. Nothing could have ruined this moment. Then she hit me with one of the most stomach churning, mind rattling statements.

“I have to tell you something,” she said. “This guy in class asked for my number to hang out some time.”

“So what did you do?” I asked.

“I gave it to him.” she answered.

She saw it as her being honest. I didn’t. It’s as though she had lit a fuse the moment she finished telling me. I was about to explode. Then I did.

“Why did you give it to him?” I asked angrily.

My brain couldn’t comprehend what had just been told to me. Why would someone I care so much about give another guy her phone number? It wasn’t for a project. He didn’t need help with any sort of school work. He wanted to hang out with her and she didn’t understand why. As a guy, you understand how a guy thinks. It’s that alpha male mentality escaping its cage. I knew the intention. I knew who this guy was. Not personally, of course, but I had seen him around.

He was one of those athletes, a wrestler. He wanted one thing and I saw it that day he stopped in the doorway to talk with her. Nearly 20 minutes. A smooth talker, he was. Any other girl could have been his but my girlfriend is the one he decided to converse with and in front of me no less. How I handle myself in this kind of situation has evolved since. But in these moments, I wanted it to end as soon as it began. What bothered me most isn’t how much he was interested but how she couldn’t turn away from the conversation. It eventually ended and I couldn’t have been happier. It was things like that where she became unaware of the torture I seemed to be put through.

Before you say anything, understand this was my first real relationship. I knew I didn’t own her and understood this wouldn’t be the only guy to converse with her in a flirty manner. This would certainly become something of stronger focus in future situations. ‘Don’t get caught up in this’ was a trait I learned. I had this glimmer of hope she would simply recognize these situations; she eventually did. What became the downfall wasn’t even a lack of communication, it was too much communication. It was a mixture of me telling her when I didn’t like this or that and the accumulation of how many times I was telling her; a lethal concoction to say the least. Something she eventually told me was Mental Abuse. However, this wasn’t where everything started crumbling. That happened on February 24, 2013.

Before February 24, 2013, I would’ve been, as they say in the movies, a sacrifice to the gods. I’m alluding to the fact that before this date, I was a virgin. It sounds weird that I would remember such a date. It was however, only two days until my birthday. An early birthday present perhaps? No, that isn’t why I remember. I make it a goal in my life to remember important memories. Such as my first kiss, March 5, 2011. The reason I bring up this late February date, is because every day since this, of our 11 month journey, was in fact the beginning of the end.

Two months into the relationship. I had never been in this situation. Nor can I say that I have ever witnessed this or thought to expect such a thing to happen. I should have. There’s this thing that happens when you start to become more physically, mentally, and emotionally connected to someone. With those connections come certain unspoken obligations. Obligations I wasn’t prepared for, the “because you’re my boyfriend” kind of obligations that I loathed because of that simple reasoning. Nothing should make me want to do something for someone because of the title of a relationship. If I wanted to do something, I would do it without thinking. This would set the tone for a long time to come.

A few weeks after that late February day, was the moment things almost ended, the day, when I look back, where ‘we’ should have ended. We argued about something in her room and I left; probably for some dumb reason. It was the last day on the calendar to take our weekly quiz or test at the testing center. Flustered couldn’t describe my focus while studying. I was so caught up in whatever we argued about. ‘Fuck it’ I thought.

I took the test and I didn’t do well. Our argument was the only thing on my mind. As I left the testing center, my walk slowly turned into a run. Except in sports, I never ran. My mind was racing, my heart was thumping, my brain exhausted. The night was dark and it had stopped raining. I needed to clear this up and I wasn’t sure why.

I returned to her front door. She opened. Tears falling down her face like rain drops off of the edge of a gutter. Smiles and happiness were the only things reminiscent of her. What was weird was the more she cried, the more I smiled. Never had I witnessed this emotion from her and it wasn’t necessarily because of our previous encounter. A long since deceased dog of hers brought on the waterworks. She had found a picture somewhere and for some reason was brought to tears. It didn’t matter, I was still smiling. Was it the lack of variety I had seen from her emotions prior to this dark night that brought on such an unpredictable emotion? Maybe I cared more for her in that moment. I don’t think I was ever able to find an answer. We were able to make up and forget about that night. Other moments, or should I say an accumulation of moments, seemed to be engraved in a metaphorical rock.

Four months in, a few days before Easter. Sitting outside a local sandwich shop, we ate our food and made conversation about holiday plans.

“Would you want to come to Easter with my family and me?” I asked.

“Let me ask my mom,” she replied.

The thought of being able to enjoy a holiday with my first girlfriend, something I’d dreamt of for years. Why, you may ask? Girlfriends and boyfriends of my cousins had been a typical sight over the many holidays over the many previous years. It was finally my turn and I couldn’t wait to take her. Then, she received a text.

She looked up from her phone, looking at me. “I don’t think I can go”

The message said, “No wtf (what the f***) holidays are for family.”

Word for word, I remember this moment. A message from her mom that was gut-wrenching. Her mom seemed offended that such a question would be asked. Then, I remembered my girlfriend’s brother-in-law.

He was a nice guy who attended the same high school as me, but graduating 6 years prior. They lived fifteen minutes away and visited his wives parents (my girlfriends parents), what seemed to be, every day; probably more so her decision, rather than his. I would think to myself about this. Does he have a family? Maybe they died in a horrific accident? And if so, did his wife’s parents have something to do with it? All questions I pondered, but never truly found the answers to. My point is he was always around, and I think it had less to do with his family and more to do with hers. A period of time would go by and I wouldn’t have stopped by. My girlfriend would ask me if I liked her parents. The question was only asked for the simple reason that I hadn’t been over recently, no single other reason. Caught off guard, my response was one of confusion. I would tell her, ‘I did’. Momentarily thinking to myself, ‘no’; for reasons previously unrelated to this moment. Nonetheless, I added it to my collection. Her parents weren’t going to make things easier.

Ten months in. It was October. Patterns became easy to identify. Whether it be as simple as 1-2-1-2-1-2 or even the repetition of behavior and the noticeable “consequences” that come paired with it. We were in a relationship, so we hung out together a lot. I made it a responsibility of mine to take the time to also hang out with friends. A luxury, it seemed, only one of us really had the option of. What’s sad is that I noticed why. She had a way of saying things that were off putting. She liked talking about her accomplishments, needing someone to know how important an achievement was such as winning $30. Yeah, she called her mom about that. It was things like this that helped me to understand. My understanding soon turned to sympathy. Feeling bad about something like that became thought provoking. The provoked thoughts led to an inclination of a simple realization. That realization was harder and harder to overlook as I was seemingly backed into a corner from all the information that stacked one after the other. Things were different.

Her perfume was the same but had a different scent. The way we looked at each other became a one-way road. Our bodies would be in the same room but our minds in different places. I started to think about all those moments, those little things that happened that we tried to forget. When I ran back after a test, smiling while she was crying, becoming mad that she gave another guy her number. I was always pursuing some sort of happiness, getting lost in who I was really trying to make happy. In some moments, I would like to believe it was her, in countless others, me. Remember how I said there was a lack of communication? After expressing so many of my thoughts to her, she began to tell me it was just me. I became closed. My brain like a jar and every thought or feeling closed by the constant thought of ‘maybe it’s just me.’ I couldn’t take it anymore.

Eleven months in. I was holding in too much. I wasn’t enjoying what we had become. Understanding who we were as individuals was what hit me the most. We were different people who valued different things. ‘We’ and ‘us’ became ‘she and I’. The schedule ‘we’ once consumed had become as vacant as the Sahara. It hits everyone at first. Enough time passes by and one is able to see the light at the end of the tunnel. Enough time passes by and one is able to see that it isn’t a straight road either. The journey ended and a lesson learned. There is no easy road to pursuing happiness.

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