So why don’t you kill me? That is why I am joining the military, because I am a loser. Instead of being sexy and knowing it, I lose and I ain’t afraid to show it. That is why I only just recently created a Twitter account. That is why I joined Facebook three years later than everyone else. That is why I can’t manage school and work. That is why I pretend to be asleep instead of getting laid. I had no feelings for her and felt guilty at the thought of taking advantage. I was too much of a loser to realize that this is merely how the world works. Besides, she was trying to take advantage of me! Lonely loser.
I wasn’t always a loser. I used to be hip. I liked Fight Club before it was cool, a fact that I owe to my older, nerdy friends who would leave me in their apartment while they shifted shackles at the local strip mine (they didn’t like their jobs at the time). I watched a lot of movies four years early. Even when I thought I was cool, in reality I was merely a loser in training. One day I was hanging out with some other, more cool “friends” and I misquoted an Elliot Smith song. Big mistake. The issue was then brought up that I didn’t have enough Flaming Lips t-shirts. It was then and there that I decided being hip wasn’t the right thing for me. I changed my life and became a loser instead. No success story here. Fuck you Hollywood! Stupid loser.
I had to wait to join the Army because I was twenty pounds over the active duty weight limit. Do you know what being twenty pounds overweight means? I am fat enough to be ashamed of it, but skinny enough to trick myself into thinking I don’t need to worry about it. Loser. In the past thirteen days, I’ve lost thirteen pounds. You know what I did when I found out I didn’t have to worry about making weight by a specific day? I went and ate a whole lot of chicken wings and drank beer. Fat loser.
Here I am trying to write a blog, get my name and skills out there and I am the very thing that our culture seems to despise over mostly anything else. Sometimes losers can be inspiring; we root for them and pity them. We do this because it is humane. There is one thing our culture hates more than a loser. A loser that tells the truth about themselves. There is a large risk there. It might hit too close to home. If people have to hear stories about a loser, they might actually be forced to think about the characteristics, actions or attitudes that might make them a loser. The truth is we all lose at something.
People have accused me of being too harsh on myself, lacking self confidence and making rash decisions. This may or may not be true. I’m never going to pay a psychologist to find out. I’m definitely not going to pay a psychiatrist to refer me to whatever pharmaceutical company is lining their pockets. I would advise these accusers to try being humble, self-critical, and to take some risky and unpredictable chances. It might actually help them. I appreciate the concern others show for me, but I’m not sure these particular people know that these qualities have helped keep my head above water.
It is no secret that I have been through some unfortunate circumstances in my life. I might even tell you about some of them in the future, if the loser side of me doesn’t take over and convince me to give up on the blog. Most people have some sad stories to tell. Mine were the kind that ran the risk of severely damaging my self-esteem, ability to trust and all around social aptitude. For a long time I used these events as an excuse. An excuse for drugs, an excuse for financial irresponsibility, an excuse for being a shitty friend. The list goes on and on. The sad thing is that people let me get away with it.
Those excuses did have a price. Although no one ever called me out, or told me to man up and quit crying, they did start to take me less seriously. I couldn’t tell a story without getting apathetic eyes. Eyes that lack any interest, eyes that were only still focused on me as a courtesy. Eyes that all but scream at me to stop my damned whining because nobody cares. Experiences like that were what led me to this point, enlisting into Uncle Sam’s band of eagle-riding freedom fighters.
When the pity eyes showed up, I decided right then and there that I would be my harshest critic and would be as realistic with myself as humanly possible. The plan hasn’t worked out as well as I had hoped. I was not being realistic when I thought I could just go to school and not have to work much. My dad works in the charity business, and I already owe him seven grand. My mom works overnight at Kohl’s. She unloads trucks. It doesn’t pay much. Even though I laid out my plans and explained what my goals were, it didn’t matter that my parents signed off on it, I was being unrealistic.
I was being unrealistic when I started a job in retail during the holidays. Of course they are going to ask me to keep coming back for extra shifts. People who work hard and take initiative are rare when you pay a quarter above minimum wage. Why did I keep agreeing to work, forgoing my scholarly commitments? Being a loser, I always think that playing the role of bitch will make me less of a loser, when all it really does is make it worse. The loser mentality is like being trapped in a circle. No matter which way you go, or what you try to do, things stay exactly the same.
In the last two weeks, many people have postulated that there is a way for me to carry on. People have been concerned, encouraging, and supportive. You can work and go to school, they say. It might not be perfect, but it is better than giving up, I hear them tell me. My first reaction is a desire to ask where they were the rest of my life. Not wanting to be a selfish, narcissistic asshole, I hold my tongue.
The real answer to these suggestions is that hoping that this theoretical scenario would work out is unrealistic. Working and going to school will make me miserable. I’m aware that many people do this every day, but I believe they are sacrificing things that I am not willing to give up. I strive for perfection in everything that I do, and become quite miserable if I can’t feel like I am giving my all. I could pull 12 credit hours and work 20 hours a week, but I would be a C student and a shitty employee. It would drive me insane. I would give up in a spectacular inferno of bridge burning, completely screwing myself over. My history is littered with examples of this, and I don’t believe that to be a realistic option anymore.
Assume that I gave the literal “college try.” I can’t do much with a Bachelor’s Degree in philosophy. My plan from the beginning was graduate school, most likely law school. Well, it is difficult to get into law school with the low GPA that would result from the hectic schedule that would be forced on me. Pretend that pity is bestowed upon me because of a high LSAT score and I was accepted at Brandeis, the law school at the University of Louisville. Well I got in, but I’m not qualifying for any scholarships. Now 20 hours a week at a job is going to barely cover the bills, I haven’t paid off any of the debt I owe my father and I haven’t moved out of his house either. You can’t work your first year at Law School. They won’t let you. This means taking out private loans. Being a loser, I have a shitty credit score and I don’t have anyone who would cosign for me. But that isn’t even the biggest issue.
I’m 29 living with my 60-year old dad, in an easy six-figure pile of federal loan debt and I have no income. I don’t have any job prospects. My parents don’t know any lawyers. The rest of my family either lives out in the country or in upstate New York. I am not connected. I have burned almost every bridge at every job I have worked. I nuked all of my possible connections from high school. The 25 percentile for salaries of Brandeis graduates is 40,000 dollars. The median salary is 60,000 dollars. The 75 percentile is 80,000 dollars. If I get lucky and land with the top of my class I am hurting from loans for a very, very long time.
I have made countless sacrifices to help others, but it has conveniently given me an excuse to not help myself. I have never been able to make sacrifices for my own benefit. I don’t think it is realistic to expect me to be able to do it now. I love a lot of people. I really give a strong effort to love with everything I have. I have never been able to love myself. I honestly do not think I am able to change that on my own, especially in an extreme situation. But, even if I was able to, I have illustrated how it will put an extreme strain on my future, my parents in the present and future and anyone that might become my family in the future.
Not only have my slip-ups in foresight and vigilance put me in a shitty situation, they have negatively affected my friends as well. This is the worst part. I believe that my genuine friends believed that I was going to law school and that I was going to be very successful. When I was acing every test, the pre-law advisor as well as my honors program advisor were talking about Harvard Law, full rides and a bright future. All that went out the window when I was forced to face the reality of my situation. I lost the opportunity to go to school and not work when I threw away my potential and dropped out of high school.
School was very exciting when it was my only responsibility. I got to live in fantasy-land for a couple months. They might be the best months of my life. When I had to grow up with the rest of you, I found out I wasn’t cut out for that kind of work. The military is the best chance I have of beating the loser out of me. The military is the best chance I have of being financially stable. The military is the best chance I have of moving out of my parents house before my dad retires. The military is the best chance I have.
I wasn’t always a loser. I used to be hip. I liked Fight Club before it was cool, a fact that I owe to my older, nerdy friends who would leave me in their apartment while they shifted shackles at the local strip mine (they didn’t like their jobs at the time). I watched a lot of movies four years early. Even when I thought I was cool, in reality I was merely a loser in training. One day I was hanging out with some other, more cool “friends” and I misquoted an Elliot Smith song. Big mistake. The issue was then brought up that I didn’t have enough Flaming Lips t-shirts. It was then and there that I decided being hip wasn’t the right thing for me. I changed my life and became a loser instead. No success story here. Fuck you Hollywood! Stupid loser.
I had to wait to join the Army because I was twenty pounds over the active duty weight limit. Do you know what being twenty pounds overweight means? I am fat enough to be ashamed of it, but skinny enough to trick myself into thinking I don’t need to worry about it. Loser. In the past thirteen days, I’ve lost thirteen pounds. You know what I did when I found out I didn’t have to worry about making weight by a specific day? I went and ate a whole lot of chicken wings and drank beer. Fat loser.
Here I am trying to write a blog, get my name and skills out there and I am the very thing that our culture seems to despise over mostly anything else. Sometimes losers can be inspiring; we root for them and pity them. We do this because it is humane. There is one thing our culture hates more than a loser. A loser that tells the truth about themselves. There is a large risk there. It might hit too close to home. If people have to hear stories about a loser, they might actually be forced to think about the characteristics, actions or attitudes that might make them a loser. The truth is we all lose at something.
People have accused me of being too harsh on myself, lacking self confidence and making rash decisions. This may or may not be true. I’m never going to pay a psychologist to find out. I’m definitely not going to pay a psychiatrist to refer me to whatever pharmaceutical company is lining their pockets. I would advise these accusers to try being humble, self-critical, and to take some risky and unpredictable chances. It might actually help them. I appreciate the concern others show for me, but I’m not sure these particular people know that these qualities have helped keep my head above water.
It is no secret that I have been through some unfortunate circumstances in my life. I might even tell you about some of them in the future, if the loser side of me doesn’t take over and convince me to give up on the blog. Most people have some sad stories to tell. Mine were the kind that ran the risk of severely damaging my self-esteem, ability to trust and all around social aptitude. For a long time I used these events as an excuse. An excuse for drugs, an excuse for financial irresponsibility, an excuse for being a shitty friend. The list goes on and on. The sad thing is that people let me get away with it.
Those excuses did have a price. Although no one ever called me out, or told me to man up and quit crying, they did start to take me less seriously. I couldn’t tell a story without getting apathetic eyes. Eyes that lack any interest, eyes that were only still focused on me as a courtesy. Eyes that all but scream at me to stop my damned whining because nobody cares. Experiences like that were what led me to this point, enlisting into Uncle Sam’s band of eagle-riding freedom fighters.
When the pity eyes showed up, I decided right then and there that I would be my harshest critic and would be as realistic with myself as humanly possible. The plan hasn’t worked out as well as I had hoped. I was not being realistic when I thought I could just go to school and not have to work much. My dad works in the charity business, and I already owe him seven grand. My mom works overnight at Kohl’s. She unloads trucks. It doesn’t pay much. Even though I laid out my plans and explained what my goals were, it didn’t matter that my parents signed off on it, I was being unrealistic.
I was being unrealistic when I started a job in retail during the holidays. Of course they are going to ask me to keep coming back for extra shifts. People who work hard and take initiative are rare when you pay a quarter above minimum wage. Why did I keep agreeing to work, forgoing my scholarly commitments? Being a loser, I always think that playing the role of bitch will make me less of a loser, when all it really does is make it worse. The loser mentality is like being trapped in a circle. No matter which way you go, or what you try to do, things stay exactly the same.
In the last two weeks, many people have postulated that there is a way for me to carry on. People have been concerned, encouraging, and supportive. You can work and go to school, they say. It might not be perfect, but it is better than giving up, I hear them tell me. My first reaction is a desire to ask where they were the rest of my life. Not wanting to be a selfish, narcissistic asshole, I hold my tongue.
The real answer to these suggestions is that hoping that this theoretical scenario would work out is unrealistic. Working and going to school will make me miserable. I’m aware that many people do this every day, but I believe they are sacrificing things that I am not willing to give up. I strive for perfection in everything that I do, and become quite miserable if I can’t feel like I am giving my all. I could pull 12 credit hours and work 20 hours a week, but I would be a C student and a shitty employee. It would drive me insane. I would give up in a spectacular inferno of bridge burning, completely screwing myself over. My history is littered with examples of this, and I don’t believe that to be a realistic option anymore.
Assume that I gave the literal “college try.” I can’t do much with a Bachelor’s Degree in philosophy. My plan from the beginning was graduate school, most likely law school. Well, it is difficult to get into law school with the low GPA that would result from the hectic schedule that would be forced on me. Pretend that pity is bestowed upon me because of a high LSAT score and I was accepted at Brandeis, the law school at the University of Louisville. Well I got in, but I’m not qualifying for any scholarships. Now 20 hours a week at a job is going to barely cover the bills, I haven’t paid off any of the debt I owe my father and I haven’t moved out of his house either. You can’t work your first year at Law School. They won’t let you. This means taking out private loans. Being a loser, I have a shitty credit score and I don’t have anyone who would cosign for me. But that isn’t even the biggest issue.
I’m 29 living with my 60-year old dad, in an easy six-figure pile of federal loan debt and I have no income. I don’t have any job prospects. My parents don’t know any lawyers. The rest of my family either lives out in the country or in upstate New York. I am not connected. I have burned almost every bridge at every job I have worked. I nuked all of my possible connections from high school. The 25 percentile for salaries of Brandeis graduates is 40,000 dollars. The median salary is 60,000 dollars. The 75 percentile is 80,000 dollars. If I get lucky and land with the top of my class I am hurting from loans for a very, very long time.
I have made countless sacrifices to help others, but it has conveniently given me an excuse to not help myself. I have never been able to make sacrifices for my own benefit. I don’t think it is realistic to expect me to be able to do it now. I love a lot of people. I really give a strong effort to love with everything I have. I have never been able to love myself. I honestly do not think I am able to change that on my own, especially in an extreme situation. But, even if I was able to, I have illustrated how it will put an extreme strain on my future, my parents in the present and future and anyone that might become my family in the future.
Not only have my slip-ups in foresight and vigilance put me in a shitty situation, they have negatively affected my friends as well. This is the worst part. I believe that my genuine friends believed that I was going to law school and that I was going to be very successful. When I was acing every test, the pre-law advisor as well as my honors program advisor were talking about Harvard Law, full rides and a bright future. All that went out the window when I was forced to face the reality of my situation. I lost the opportunity to go to school and not work when I threw away my potential and dropped out of high school.
School was very exciting when it was my only responsibility. I got to live in fantasy-land for a couple months. They might be the best months of my life. When I had to grow up with the rest of you, I found out I wasn’t cut out for that kind of work. The military is the best chance I have of beating the loser out of me. The military is the best chance I have of being financially stable. The military is the best chance I have of moving out of my parents house before my dad retires. The military is the best chance I have.
You are very loved. I do not want to be an asshole, but I am so here it is. You have been called out. Keep up the good work! btw.. I had almost placed bets that all this was about a girl. I shouldn't have written off your decision.
ReplyDeleteI don't know how you did it, but your single comment illustrates the entire spectrum of my relationships with people.
ReplyDeleteI honestly do not know if that is a good thing or a bad thing, but I do love reading this. I feel like I should selfishly request an explanation for your words in a more personal atmosphere. With respect for your work, please explain.
ReplyDeleteIf you take each of the individual thoughts you voiced, out of context and examine them in a sequential order, it tells a very truthful story about peoples' interactions with me.
ReplyDelete"You are very loved." People say this shit to me all the time. But on its own without context it means literally nothing in reality, and especially to me. My dad is the most guilty of this. My family in general say this actually, as if it rewrites history.
"I do not want to be an asshole..." Let's leave the second half of the sentence off for now. These notions have boggled me for all of my life. Girlfriends saying they didn't want to hurt me, they just did is the best example.
"...but I am so here it is." Why are all of my kisses followed shortly by sucker punches?
"You have been called out." To be honest, even in context I do not know what you meant by this. Out of context, I am usually getting challenged, wooed, endeared and tested without me even knowing. Being judged without knowing it is one of the worst feelings, in my opinion.
"Keep up the great work!" No matter who it comes from, I've always enjoyed compliments. Even when I know they are a fake, it still affects me in a positive way. This may have to do with my low self-esteem. The thing is compliments don't mean a thing if you can't believe them coming out of your own mouth. I never can, so they evaporate into the meaningless void shortly after the head rush.
The last two sentences I'll just lump together. I have always felt misunderstood and misinterpreted. I think people don't give me the benefit of the doubt very often. For good reason most likely, but it irritates me thoroughly. Sometimes I think I'm being a hipster, claiming to be so mysterious. The truth is that I am a private person, and people make their assumptions about the unexplained and I rarely make an active effort to make sure everyone is on the same page I am on.
Hopefully this blog will change that! I am putting it all out there, and people will have all of the information.
Brandy, please believe me none of this was directed at you. I looked at your comment in a very weird way, maybe due to the lack of sleep and exhaustion. I also read it as you saying it to me, and I appreciate every word of it. Thank you for your support and love. You have been there for me so many times, I owe you the universe. The rest of the world will soon know of these great acts, as I plan on telling the great tale of Brandy, Ryan, and then Brandy and Ryan as it pertains to me.
I read this and it really made me think about life as a whole this was a very touching article, im sorry that so much stuff has happened to you and im sorry for not being the kind of friend you needed at the time , if giving anothere chance possibly i could ... I only wish the best for you Caleb
ReplyDelete