Saturday, November 19, 2005

so... while my love life might be pathetic... would it get anyworse if i had my boss attempting to give me pointers? fuck.. it would. and it did.

i made the stupid assumption that id be safe to bring in one picture. one. some of these assholes at work have galleries of art... one lady has a shelf [which i use for manuals of copiers i sell for reference] filled with pictures in frames of her kids. so instead of having a more baren space than Vanillia Ice's trophy shelf; i decided to bring in one picture. its next to my instruction on how to get my voice mail [which still doesnt work]. a day later. knock knock. the boss comes patrolling around on the cube farm, and instead of asking me about acconts, or cold calls, or why i didnt dress in a 900 dollar suit; he pokes his finger and says, "who is that, your girlfriend?"

.... this is a delicate situation. i can take two roads to approach it. well three, the third being ignoring it. road one is the subtle explanation, road two is the total down play. i kinda ran between the forks in the road, and gave the subtle down play of the truth.

"no... not unless she decides to change her mind and tell me so"

.... see i thought this was a good move... i never looked up. and it seemed like a dead, brush off comment to state to move past the awkwardness of revealing personal experiences to the Gestapo.

"really... shes pretty man... you really like her then? what happened?"

.... this is now throwing lead baseballs at nuclear reactors. while, the practice is probably harmless... what kind of freaking idiot really thinks its a good idea to try it. now im stuck trying to field that question.

"i asked. she said no. ... yes i do really like her, and yeah i wish she didnt say no."

.... silence. this is the worst part. its like watching a horror flick with mute. while you wince at the gore, its really got no impact without the sound... in this case, its the lack of sound thats ugly and brutal. hes a salesman. im a salesman. we both know that who ever answers silence first, is the loser... so i mutter...

"i think shes just at that stage where she wants to have things her way and be able to do her own thing without any attachments; and im past that stage, so thats what happened i suppose"

.... no silence. he respondes.

"well [clasps hand on my shoulder, still looking at the picture] hang in there kid. give her time. man. she looks wild... is she? woo. just give her that time and shell come around" [then he leaves]

.... really this could have gone worse. i just dont know how. even my own boss thinks im incapable of closing a deal. and this time, its not about a copier. i feel pretty messed up, knowing that people twice my age are looking my pictures, and touching me while they do it. dirty. so very dirty. but the only lingering thought on my mind, is not that; but do i give his advice much credability? its difficult to answer that. so far, i think hes way off base making me cold call on 300 businesses for zero sales... maybe sitting and waiting for her to make a decision she might never want to make, isnt the best idea either. but its the only thing right now, thats really out of my control. that and people signing fat checks over to me for copiers.

Thursday, November 17, 2005

the december issue of playboy has a really interesting article about Marilyn Monroe. im trying to type parts of it back as close as i can, but all the credit to the authors for an interesting take on the woman through surviovrs... the itneresting part isnt that she was into enema's, or that she was some sort of sex addict... it was about Joe DiMaggio. non sports people only know him as a temporary husband to her. however, he was one of the top 20 baseball players of all time, who still to this day owns the longest streak of consecutive games with a hit. anyways. being one of the best ballplayers of the age, in his time, meant he was as close as Jesus in notariety among the world. so. he does well enough, fame, success, riches, he also bags the most sexual and beautiful woman of the period as well.

"joe d loves marilyn monroe, and always will. i love him and always will. but joe couldnt stay married to marilyn monroe, the famous movie star. joe has an image in his stuborn italian head of a traditional wife. she would have to be faithful, do what he tells her, devote all of herself to him. doctor, you know thats not me. there is no way i could stop being marilyn monroe and become someone else to save our marriage. it didnt take long before we both realized that and ended our marriage. but we didnt end our love for each other.. any time i need him, joe is there. i couldnt have a better friend." ... in monroe's words to her pyschiatrist

monroe later remarries to author Arthur Miller, which ends in shambles after a few years, and very soon after she ends up dead. most touching of all, comes in the words of Joes neice recollecting the plans, allegedly, of joe and marilyn to remarry...

"all of which raises the question, would a woman who was about to remarry teh love of her life, the only man who was there for her unconditionionally, kill herself on the eve of the wedding? or had she gotten herself into something she wasnt ready for? in the years that followed, joe had a hard time even speaking ofn monroe. he was intensely private to begin with, and engelberg and positano, his two closest friends in teh years before his death, knew never to bring up her name. but always her haunting presence was felt. dimaggio would go into his 'marilyn mood' as some friends called it. ... sometimes he spoke of her funeral -- how he arranged it and banned certain people from attending, particularly [frank]sinatra... he said to positano, 'doc i made sure none of those people who really killed her were there.' says engelberg, 'you know, morris, instead of kissing her at the altar, i had to kiss her in her casket.' engelberg, who was at dimaggios deathbed, says the athletes last words to him were not to feel sad about his dying. 'ill get to see marilyn again' dimaggio said."

Wednesday, November 16, 2005

you ever get the feeling its not worth talking about problems at home?

see, my parents, while are great, dont do the whole consultive listening situation well. example.

me - "so i just really think this is unfair... im the only rep in the office that has to drive 3 counties to get to my territory that stetches another 3, and they only pay me 250 bucks a month to cover that... its just not fair to come up with 300 dollars for gas over and beyond what everyone else does for the zero dollars [all comp'd] or less"

mom - "well then you just have to pay it!!! "

dad - "claim it for your taxes, you know it could be 40 cents a mile--"

me - "dad, thats not a freaking check; thats deduction off wage earning... meaning it doesnt mean squat if those 40 pennies dont bump me into a lower bracket"

-silence-

mom - "well then stop complaining"


. end .


see? its like they take it as offensive. to them, im supposed to be happy i have this job at a place theyve heard of. they dont really seem to notice im not happy with it, and im loosing more money then im making. and sure. the jeep is not the most practical vehicle i could have bought. but come winter snow piles, three counties of driving with all wheel drive, to get to my three territories of rural, 2 lane and gravel roads to sell in; the jeep was a great purchase. the issue however, was about the equity of a traveling rep, versus a home office rep. which is unfair. not only do the home office reps not have to waste any time driving to get to their appointments [unlike my hour minimum drive], but their mileage probably wont rack up to the magic 1,000 miles a month if its all in davenport. unlike me, who each trip of cold calls nets me 150 miles minimum. minimum i said. thats just to iowa city, drive to locations, drive back to davenport. lets get jiggy with it and say im in washington iowa, an hour south of iowa city... now i add an extra 100 miles on that. each day of cold calling in washington is effectively costing me a tank of gas or more at just short of 300 miles per excursion. i can only do that 3 times in a month, and im out of compensation! where as the reps for in town, see maybe 20 miles as alot of driving in a day of calls... making them do effectively 500 cold calling excursions at the same price... see my bitch? im being penalized with a bigger area, thats farther away, to push business from people that have never heard of us... the in town reps have name recognition, familiarity and ties with the local network, and dont have to do squat for an extra hour each direction. its not fair. but the talk about it tonight turned into me being, appearantly complainy, and juvenile about it. so... if by being conscious of the raping i receive for this; makes me juvenile... then im a Toys R Us Fucking Kid.

Sunday, November 13, 2005

several gripes...

. i washed my watch. i felt like such an idiot. i was so mad at myself for not paying attention to it. and while it was only a 9 dollar watch at walmart, i still felt bad about it. this is probably why i dont buy many nice things. id ruin them somehow. so after finding the bits of broken glass face in my clothes, i was thorougly disgusted enough to go out and buy a replacement. a whopping 6.49 at walmart.

. im really at a loss for words. i try as hard as i can to be a good friend. i try to be caring. to be sensitive. to be positive. i guess its just not something anyone wants. im scratching my head over it. sure. i might have feelings for this girl beyond friendship, but i told her, and i mean it, that im willing to wait until shes ready to make that kind of decision. until then, i care about her enough to want to be around her as a close friend. honestly the kind i think she doesnt have many of, that really no one ever does. the kind that its ok to cry in front of... in fact the one thats the first one to show up when you cry. the ultra trustworthy kind you talk with about the things you dont want to tell yourself, and hardly another person. im doing it because i really do believe in her. shes fun. shes a great person, and i just wish id get through. so. the problem? well. after reading about what i did to my watch... you can guess that appearantly ive screwed something up here too. i sent flowers. i thought it was something nice shed appreciate. not only have i [3 days later] not gotten a [quick or any kind of] thank you, but ive gotten the silent treatment when i ask. i just dont get it. i hope shes just really busy. or that something happened to her phone. i really hope its not the "silent game". i tried so hard just to do something nice-- and no one even wants that. its like i manage to mess up doing nice things. i hate that feeling. its worse than guilt. because with guilt, i should feel wrong for what i did do. there shouldnt be any reason for me to feel wrong about what i did this time. none. and here i am, feeling bad.

. i hate these online dating sites. there isnt anything. on 3 different sites, [match.com, eharmony.com, and cupid.com] im not registering ANY matches. match.com does a 100 percent scale... the highest match there is for me; is 42. a 42. i remember reading once in something about modern personality matched dating, that according to their questionaire i was appealing to something like 8% of the population. i really hate this. i know ive complained alot about being lonely lately on this, but man. there isnt even one Half=assed match for me in the land of the internet. how pathetic is that?

. i had a dream last night where i was in bed with a woman. that it wasnt just sex. that it was comforting. that it was consoling. it was... vivid. it felt like the first 13 minutes of a softcore porn flick. it made me wish it wasnt a dream. i remember waking up this morning, and being on my back thinking; why the hell cant that actually happen. and it was a sad realiztion that it doesnt happen. for whatever reason it just shocked me into feeling sad about it. about myself. about the truth. here i am, almost 25 yeras old. and i cant even say i can get a simple bit of dream to happen for myself. and its sad. its so pathetic that i think about it. that i dream about it. that in the back of my mind, i torture myself about it. because it was something so simple. so welcoming. and so much for my dreams.