I’m confused at the purpose of Twitter. I was recommended by several classmates that Twitter is a great connector for jobs or awareness, etc, but I just don’t get it’s purpose. If I’ve already got a lackluster blog, which I’m content with, but what’s the point of Twitter? I don’t feel the need to repeat myself on multiple spaces. I don’t have to spread my shit around. I suppose I’ll eventually see Twitter’s services value, but until then, I’m not sure what to expect. I thought the blogsphere was enough, but I seem to be living behind the trend. I disabled my Facebook because I didn’t use it like how others were using it. In conclusion, I’m guess this is a rant of no valid reason. There obviously was a need for the creation of Twitter, and it seems to have a large following, so what am I complaining about? I guess I’ll just have to start tweeting to find out.
It’s hard to see clear skies with stormy eyes. Yet when eyes are unrestricted it’s hard to see clouds. I wear glasses because my vision is degrading, and I have trouble differentiating from either. My eyes may be witness, but my mind will redirect account. Definitely a short sight on my part, hence the glasses. It’s to bad they don’t fix askew thinking. Crooked as my thinking may be, I must attribute most of that to my lack of experience, understanding and intelligence. I know that I don’t know, but due to my mental deficiency, I don’t foresee any possibility of redemption. It’s funny how my eyes see what my mind selects as truth. All these involuntary actions, these finite senses are funneled and filtered through a central location, curating validity through make-belief reasoning founded upon others similar processes of deception.
I want to state that I do not know all the women I work with on an extremely personal level, but from what they’ve cared to reveal they are damned strong. Regardless the face they wear to work, I just hope their families are aware. I work with a majority of women, which to be honest, considering my being, is great but unnervingly shaky. I feel, at times, privy to the information gained through conversation, that their families don’t get straight forth. The experiences of the women I work with I find sometimes contrary to their work demeanor. The separating of public and private definitely becomes obvious. Beyond our defensive filters, I find truly loving people who rightfully earn what their now tasked with. Whether they could change things or anything, they’ve continued with their decision with due diligence and a sense of pride. As stated earlier, I do not know these women intimately, but I think that regardless of fault, which I’m a certain fault, these women are capable of enduring pains I’ve no comprehension with. Why do I feel the need to type this? I think after 6 years of relation with these women my judgements have changed. I thought that I’d just work a few year with them and pass to the next. But I’ve slowly accustomed myself to their consistency in my daily routine, that I recognize, apart from doing work at a job, I’m in proximity of strong individuals. Now they seem to act positively towards me, but I sense that there is more to what their allowing me to physically see. I don’t feel it is in my right or business to question peoples personal affairs without their consent, but there have been times where I’ve shied away from distress I’ve sensed from coworkers. I also think I don’t pry is due to lack of experience I’ve accumulated in relation to my coworkers. I can’t relate to marriage, kids, even though I still feel and think like a kid, bills, I live at home with minimal things I must pay for, nor car, house or any other Western “adult” problems. I just don’t know how to approach them with genuine interest, so I may come off as disinterested or uncaring. I’ve lost track of what I initially sent forth in accomplishing because my mom felt it necessary to come down and check in on me. Funny, yet it’s disrupted my train to run off it’s rail. She felt the need to comment on my tired face, an felt compelled to recount our BBQ at my aunt’s. I take it that she was happy that I decided to visit her family with her instead of blowing them off like my dad. I can and cannot blame him for his reasons. Okay, so thanks to mom, and mother’s out there, one’s who have to deal with a family life and their life, I want to give you my sincerest thanks. I know mother’s day has passed, but it seems to me that everyday should be treated like mother’s day, ideally.
My posts do not correlate. Nor do many hold contextual strength. That’s not entirely the plan, although it’s hope that there’s something of value. As the blog title suggests, this is the B side. If you’re familiar with the b side, then you’ll know that this is exactly that. Whatever your reasons for venturing the b side, let them be your barometer. I’m not a typical, more atypical, although I’m finding out more and more through experience, than I’m typical. I have interests that lie in B but due to complexion, composition, talent, or whatever you call it, I scrape by in A. I teeter the fence between A and B. Skill pulls me from falling into B but interest pulls me towards B. Lacking the necessary skills to fend off all these interests can be a frustrating act to preform. Humor, or at least my opinion of humor, seems to be my means of balancing. All these categories, yet I can’t find my own. I think I’ll be dead once everything has been settled.
I lack in the art of suasion.
I could plea my case,
expound my ineptitude,
but wouldn’t I
Being a recent graduate of a graphic design course, and forever student, I’ve come to the realization that I’m not immune to the beast I’m involved with. I was bred of her, nursed from her bosom, then unleashed to the world to spread her. Although, during periods of nursing, I’ve recognized my mother at work. I’ve grown aware of her abilities, obviously not all, seeings how I still return for sustenance, but I can say confidently, I’m now better equipped to deal with her. Her transmutation of mediums may distract my eyes, but her words deceive her. Communication is her art, which makes my task to disrupt her disinformation for others to make well informed, and hopefully objective, choices. As long as I’m in the business to make “pretty products,” I have a responsibility to provide others with information based on integrity and objectivity, and of course, with my sense of style. Hey, I need to make money too.
Imagine that your vision flickered, like that of a light switch. On. Off. It was a normal day at work when it happened to me. I finished after pushing a cart full of stock to when it needed to go. As I walked to the back of the store, I passed a pretty girl. That’s when it happened. Flash. Whoa, what the hell. I was momentarily stunned, somewhat stutter stepping as I went. Could it be, her gravitational pull disrupted my my magnetic force? Or had it just been a nervous convulsion at the sight of by such a beautiful creature? Or maybe it was just the fluorescent lighting that caused my eyes to scramble? Whatever the reason may be, I continued my day as per usual. I don’t get paid to ask questions.
I got a rip starting at the knee of my one of pant legs. Three years in the making. I thought of those designer clothes that cost a lot of money and come equipped with holes. If I’m going to pay hard earned money, and a lot of it, to an article of clothing, I want all the material and quality I can get.
How about this, I can offer you a service that will wear in your clothes, thus emulating the “live-in” look? It’ll cost about $10 per article of clothing, and $40 for a whole outfit. Sadly, this service is presently offered to those sized small, but soon I’ll offer to those who are bigger.
Think of all that wasted time and money spent trying to earn those rips. I understand that you are a busy person and need results, without the investing of time. With this service, I have the time to produce results. I’ll wear your clothing to the right amount of hobo-chic needed at an honest price that doesn’t hurt you. Once clothing is of desired disarray, I’ll personally wash clean your clothes.
Think of me as being tough on your clothes while being kind to your wallet. If you want the look but can’t justify the price, give me a call 1-800-IWEAR-4-U. Because we know what genuine looks like.
This is for the few, but I appreciate and thank you for your time.
Her shoes are black. Flat. Uncomfortable looking. Cheap.
“Why don’t you ever look at me when we talk?”
I must admit, she has an admirable bosom, but I’m caught gazing at her feet. It’s hard to look people in the eyes. I must admit, I’m scared to look up.
“It seems like all you ever do is stare at my feet?”
I don’t know why waste money of a bunch of poor shoes when you can take that money, and make one purchase when needed. I figure it’s just a better spending of money.
“What is it this time?”
I understand buying shoes to go with different outfits, but why not just get one that works with them all? Is it the thrill of the hunt, the social aspect, or the ideal of something personal?
“Hello there, are you even listening?”
Hmm, I wonder how many more shoes she has? Or better yet, when I get the courage to just look her in the eye and tell her,
“I don’t think you need anymore shoes. Your feet don’t care.”