Love at first... what?

All that talk of lesbianism reminded me of my first gay experience. I remember it just like it was yesterday, because it was.

I commuted to college in the early morning because I have Saturday school. I failed a course in college and now I'm retaking it. This could only be done at this ungodly hour after commuting for nearly 40 minutes. For four hours every Saturday, I was to learn and sacrifice my Friday nights for the sake of education. I was upset. I was distraught. I WAS SAD.

Until I saw... her.

Beautiful brown flowing locks. Her hair shimmered in the dim rays of the early morning sun that managed to pierce the chilling overcast. Her eyes were a deep glassy azure that either shined brightly or reflected the fluffy clouds hanging above us. She had a small, petite figure. She was delicate and sophisticated enough that you'd handle her like a fine glass of wine, gently sipping her aura and indulging yourself with her refined, intoxicating taste. She was dressed conservatively, but in a dignified manner that seemed to ascend beyond her age. Her slender neck was wrapped in a plaid scarf, and her legs were hugged by black stockings and leather boots.

Of course, standing in the presence of this glorious radiance was something that was difficult to take in. This woman was crafted by the hands of God himself, and I concluded that she was either a beautiful angel sent to claim my virginity and send me into eternal bliss, or she was a Machiavellian monster under the alluring grip of Satan himself, meant to destroy humanity as we know it with her omniscient beauty.

Of course either or would be fine by me. I WAS LONELY AND NEEDED SOME LOVING.

This class would be bearable in the presence of this goddess. Of course, I wasn't just content with being around her. I have nothing better to do, right? What could I lose by attempting to talk to her? If I humiliate myself enough, I would only have to face her once a week. Or I could kill her. Killing her might be a better alternative. But that wasn't something I worried about. BABY I HAVE NOTHING TO LOSE, IT CAN ONLY GO UP FROM HERE.

During the break, I was down on the ground since the building Geology was in was a few stories up. I saw her. Overlooking the school. Even with my poor eyesight, her beautiful face was still clear in my sight. I couldn't look away. That is, until she made eye contact with me. My heart locked up; I was paralyzed with fear as she blushed and looked away. Oh god oh god oh god oh god, she must think I'm some kind of freak. A FREAK. THAT'S WHAT I AM. HOW REVOLTING AM I, TO STARE SO INTENSELY AT THAT GORGEOUS YOUNG GIRL. I'M VILE, I'M DISGUSTING, I'M--

"Um... hello."

OH CHRIST. While I was worrying and being raped by paranoia, there she suddenly was, standing before me. WHAT SHOULD I DO, WHAT SHOULD I DO, WHAT SHOULD I DO?

"HELLO, I SELL MATTRESSES." I blurted out. What in the fuck? Why did I have mattresses on my mind? Your guess is as good as mine.
"Hmm?" She tilted her head a bit. SO ADORABLE.
"Oh, nothing. Just a slip."
"What's your name?"
"Lucas."
"Mine is Dia." Oh good God, this couldn't get any better. That name was just... small and cute and punctual. It was like if a baby kitten slipped into a vat of delicious chocolate and whenever it meowed, it would sound like somebody was tickling Kirby. MY HEART COULDN'T TAKE IT.
"This class is too early in the morning. I want to go home already." my voice trembled as I pitifully attempted to make conversation.
"Yeah..." she meekly let out. There was silence for a while. We just stared awkwardly at each other. Then before I could predict it, she grabbed my hand and pulled me into her mouth. Given the gust of cold air I've been breathing, that warm breath was the most refreshing thing to wake me up at that time in the morning.
"WHOA, WHAT IN THE HE--" She put a finger over my mouth to silence me.
"Follow me." Before I could reconstitute myself, she tugged on my hand and led me around the corner to the school. My heart was racing and my face was red enough to blend in with the school's brickwork. We reached a quiet, isolated corner of the school. Not a sound could be heard. I had a feeling I knew where this might be going as she pressed her lips against mine and we passionately embraced against the school wall.

Was she moving fast? Absolutely. In fact, fast enough that it would normally make me uncomfortable in most situations. But I was caught off-guard by the most beautiful woman to walk the face of the Earth, and I just didn't fucking care. If I had a spectacular wave in front of me, I was going to ride it while I could and be mindlessly unaware of any possible consequences.
We started pulling each other's clothes off as we continued our lustrous play. She was flat, but I didn't really mind. As a connoisseur of breasts, I wouldn't discriminate. Her milky white skin looked like ivory yet was soft and warm. Of course, it was one of the greatest things I've ever laid eyes on. This woman was perfect in every single sense of the word.

Of course when I got her panties off, she wasn't a woman in the literal sense of the word, oddly enough.

"...That isn't a vagina."
"It isn't. It's a--" I silenced her with my finger. I pulled my pants back up, and I walked a bit out into the parking lot. I stood there for a bit, and wondered that if God existed, what kind of sense of humor the man might have. Then I started yelling at God. I yelled at him for a good three minutes. I yelled at him for pulling a cruel trick, at him being a bastard, and I most certainly yelled at him for toying with my lonely heart. I then walked back to Dia, and pulled my pants off again.
"Alright, am I going to be the pitcher or what?"
"If you so please."
And honestly, I didn't see the damn thing once while we made passionate love. And that was good enough for me, since I was able to at least imagine that I was having sex with a woman. Although it taught me a valuable lesson, and that's that true beauty most certainly isn't restricted to specific genders. I wondered if I was see Dia again next week, and what extent I would go through to get that elegant ray of light to get a sex change operation.

It's going to be an interesting schoolyear.

On college parking lots.

So I was going to college today and I had no choice but to commute. Now this wouldn't normally be a problem, but being a college in the middle of a well-off town like Pleasant Hill, everybody has a car that they can park with. And yes, that's the name of the actual city. Pleasant Hill just sounds like an obnoxious place, doesn't it? The name just reeks of 'morning children show' despite the town having a slightly worn look. Pleasant Hill looks like the poor part of a rich county, which means at its worst it probably still manages to look like Beverly Hills to the folks in East Oakland. But I digress, that wasn't what I was going to discuss. What I was going to discuss, is parking.

Parking is the arch-nemesis of any college student on the clock, because a parking space just manages to elude you the most when you're running at your latest. It's always the huge parking lots, too. Ironically enough, the college campus I previous attended had a really small parking lot, yet amidst some troubles I could always manage to find a place to park. The big ones where you're telling yourself "Well shit, I don't even see this many people on the campus" are the parking lots to worry about. Seriously, I could count more cars than people I see around that school. What do students do? Have their legs through both sunroofs on the cars and drive them to school like they're on waterskis? And you would just wander for hours, even days looking for a parking space, much like a man would wander a desert looking for an oasis.

What if I had to find parking somewhere else? Then I would have to park at somebody's house nearby, and I wouldn't have money to pay for it. Instead I would have to perform sexual favors like sucking dick to keep my parking space. And while I'm not saying I wouldn't suck dick in a desperate situation, I'd just prefer to arrange something like that ahead of time. Get some papers processed so you could sue him for anything that goes wrong. You never know what would be coming out of that dick. STDs and AIDS or some disgusting shit. Not literally shit, though. I've seen some weird things come out of dicks before, but I haven't seen that yet. I think I'm getting off on a tangent. In both senses of the meaning, but I digress.

I left at 8:45am. I got there around 9:20 or so; ten minutes to find a parking spot and get to class. I did not find one until 11:30am. TWO HOURS HAD PASSED. TWO. FUCKING. HOURS. I MISSED MY FIRST CLASS BECAUSE I WAS TOO BUSY LOOKING FOR A PLACE TO PARK. I HAD TO LEAVE AND GO GET GAS JUST SO I COULD COME BACK AND SEARCH SOME MORE. ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME? Every parking lot in a three to four mile radius was full. I would know; I scoured them all, just desperate for a spot that seemed to perpetually elude me. Of course that wasn't the worst of it. Oh no, I forgot about the people.

Now, if you want to truly know... how much of a terrible, conniving, ruthless human being somebody can be, then go to a college parking lot on the first week of class. There's always been something about the automobile that functions as a catalyst for somebody's malice, but a parking lot is a great place to witness the process. There you can learn just how capable a person is of being evil. And there's no other word for it. I can understand survival of the fittest and the need to get to class, but there were some evil people in that parking lot. I don't have an extensive vocabulary, but "evil" is the only word I can use to articulate the kinds of people in that place who were desperate enough to find a parking spot that they'd go against traffic in the main street just to backtrack and check if any parking lanes have opened up in the area they just searched for the umpteenth time three minutes ago. Students parked in faculty spaces. Students parked in red zones. Students who were lacking clearance parked in handicapped spaces. I counted no less than twelve cars with their hazard lights on; I thought to myself "Well shit, there must be a virus going around that's killing cars." But as soon as somebody in front of them pulled out, those hazards were off and they were on that space faster than a drunk whore on her date's crotch at prom night. They were sleazy predators parked in the middle of the lane, just waiting for their prey to show up.

You could almost imagine what everybody is is going through. Roaming the lanes. Emotionally dead. You pass a driver and you can see the absence of hope in their eyes as you drove by. You looked the same. But then... somebody was walking away from the school. OH LORDY YES, COULD THEY BE WALKING TOWARDS THEIR CAR TO LEAVE? You and everybody else slow down as much as possible as to not pass that person, meaning you lose the opportunity to get their spot if you do. But... you're not the person who gets it. Somebody else closer does. You can feel the air shift from emotionally numb to impeccable excitement... to scathing anger. And that person pulling into the spot feels overjoyed that he got a spot. And here's a test to see if that person is still human; if he or she breaks down while leaving the car from the amount of hateful venom the spiteful drivers are eying them with, then congratulations; you've succeeded at breaking their spirit. If they leave the car, whistling and skipping to class despite being late, then I recommend calling the local authorities because you just saw a person more evil than Hitler, and has probably cut off drivers and ran over pedestrians to win that spot. And with that bombardment of emotions, your hope is crushed and you're back to searching while questioning why higher education might not be important enough to sacrifice your faith in people.

When I managed to finally find a spot, my joy was crushed. Apparently I've failed to neglect that I need to pay for parking. 40 bucks for a semester pass, or 3 dollars a day otherwise. This was a tragedy. How could I forget such a critical oversight? Although in retrospect, it doesn't make a damn lick of sense. Just because I can afford the gas doesn't mean I can afford parking. Hell, if I had money to throw around for trivial bullshit like that, then I wouldn't be going to a community college in the first place. It became terrifying, though. What if I couldn't pay for it that day? What would happen? Would my car get towed? Ticketed? I didn't care. At that point, I just went "Fuck it, I missed my first class already. I need to get to the next one." Although I learned that there's a gracing period for the first week of class, so no trouble there at least.

After showing up late, going to the yard, failing to hit on somebody, and waiting in line to spend 165 dollars I don't have on books at the store, I finally decided to return to my car and go home. ......If I could find it. In my exhaustion and emotionally dead mood that just wanted to get to class, I completely neglected to remember where I parked. Well, it's not as if I could; it all looked the same. No landmarks. No lamps. No trees. I managed to park in a massive lot next to school that was packed with cars. The scenery was every-changing with color. It was impossible to remember who I was parked next to, or anything else of the sort. I wandered for a while on the phone to have my idiot friend in Jersey to remind me how much of an idiot I was while I searched and told him this story I just told you.

The moral of the story? Remember to leave your empathy at home. You won't be needing that for where you're going. Shit like that will only get in the way.

And show up an hour early. You'll need it.

I don't hate people, I'm just ahead of the curve.

Angst in teenagers isn't uncommon. It's almost universally loathed, but I believe that it's a vital factor in growing up. Really, I think it is. I don't think one truly begins to face adulthood until their perpetual bubble of happiness is popped, their innocence is robbed by malice, and they begin to understand that sometimes people just suck. Damn straight that people suck. I suck, you suck, we all suck. That's the glory of human nature, to feel that way. Of course I'm talking about beautiful, unbridled hatred. Today we'll learn of what that is through a series of educational pieces, as I'm fully aware that many of you still need to make the distinction of what hatred is, and then learn to wield it with finesse and skill.


Lesson #1 - Angst Isn't Hatred



Don't confuse hatred with angst. Angst is for pussies going through moodswings, parental divorce, and puberty. That kind of hatred is blind; when kids get fussy, they'll hate just about anything. For no reason at all, even. That's a perfectly good waste of hatred that can be channeled into other problems in the world, like religion, communism, or TV Dinners.

As one gets older, he learns to distinguish between particular emotions, primarily ones that aren't hate. When one learns to sort out those feelings and begins to understand and become disgusted with the flawed nature of the human condition. You won't notice when the shift happens, either; one day you're pouting at the dinner table not wanting to eat your peas because they're icky, the next you'll be taking a violent shit in the bathroom, legs braced against the wall while you apply the death grip to the nearest graspable object, cursing God's existence for making you allergic to beets despite the fact that they're so delicious. What? They are. Fuck you, you kids don't know what you're talking about.

I can't tell you how to cross that threshhold, but when you do, you'll learn to hate things properly with the embittered disgust that only an awful excuse of an adult would know about. Learning what hatred is ends up being a proper step forward in the delightful act of judging people.

Lesson #2 - Find A Place Or Location To Channel Your Hatred



Okay, so you know how to hate people and the terrible shit they do. Now all you need is a place to do it. This is in fact very important; one will basically learn to associate terrible shittiness with a location, and that ends up becoming a breeding ground of your righteous malice towards society. Of course you can have more than one place to choose from, but sometimes keeping that hatred confined to a single location is better for your health.

The bathroom is a fantastic place to reflect on the things you hate in life. It could be that particular food giving you the runs. Or it could be where the only mirror in the house is, and you look into it, picking apart your disgusting appearance of a fat, zit-cover manchild where the only place above your shoulders that'll grow hair is your neck. Or the filing cabinet, where you see all the medications in your house and you begin to realize you're nothing more than a sedated hambeast who's in a constant state of mind-numbing euphoria because whenever the pills wear off you realize how emotionally dead you are. Or when you're jerking off on the toilet and after that mediocre climax you realize you're in your bathroom alone for the fourth time that day and no woman will ever touch you.

Another example would be a place of social gathering, like a school, a mall, the internet, or a Planned Parenthood seminar. Whatever place that's easier for you to dole out scathing judgmental glances as the herds of cattle roaming through the streets. I personally like Planned Parenthood since any hatred-induced suicides you cause will have twice the effect with only half the effort.

Lesson #3 - Learn To Wield And Articulate Your Hatred As A Weapon



Balling up hatred and just letting it fester in your bowels will get you nowhere. You want to unleash it on people and destroy their self-esteem for being idiots in the first place. Your hatred is in fact a powerful weapon to fix the blunders of society. This is another reason how we can separate angst from hatred; angst is never acted upon, mainly because teenagers are lazy worthless fucks who feel like they're powerless in any situation.

My particular moments of hatred come when I'm stranded on the shitter and the only thing to read while I'm making a deposit at the bank happens to be whatever my family left in there. Like novels. Romance novels. The most contrived pieces of bullshit literature that I've ever had the patience to skim through. Completely idealistic crap where it's some flamboyant he-man and the gorgeous swan who's downtrodden by society, and when they fall in love the woman ends up becoming empowered or some shit. There's some sinister villain pulling the strings and intending to keep them apart, but love conquers all and they live happily ever after, forever and ever and ever. ......I've yet to see a single realistic Romance novel written. And by "realistic" I mean something like the male protagonist was out drinking all night and he wakes up hungover in a Denny's. He's completely out of it until he sees the cute waitress, and ends up makes a glorious first impression by throwing up in front of her. Then it's a series of events watching the soulless husk of a man wander through his shitty life with his shitty friends until he finally makes a move on her, and then they're together and happy for a while before the inevitable divorce and bitter loneliness that follows until he finally drowns his children and offs himself.

Just kidding; he doesn't have custody over the children because he's the father.

How is this problem solved? Simple; I just start writing my own stories where terrible shit happens to couples. Granted it won't ever get published because barren loveless housewives won't want to be reminded how vacant their romantic lives are, at least I can take solace in the fact that it's out there.

Another thing that reminds me how much people are shit while I'm on the toilet are tabloids. They're completely ridiculous. You're talking about dirt dug up on "famous" people. Just because you learn that Morgan Freeman shops at Luckys or Lindsay Lohan's a slut doesn't mean that your God or Goddess is somehow just a bit more human because he or she does things you do. What a crock of shit; the only thing different about these people are their paychecks. And that they have a bunch of lunatics with a little too much time on their hands following them around with cameras. How fucking dull and utterly depraved does your social life have to be to listening to gossip about rich people you don't even know? IT DOESN'T MAKE ANY FUCKING SENSE.

If they were people you knew, people who lived in your neighborhood, then absolutely. Because then fucking with people you know and interact with on a semi-frequent basis becomes relevant to your life. You could abuse the information like that slut Jesse who lives next store sucked off twenty guys in three weeks. You could learn that Jimmy Walters wasn't on vacation, and actually got tried and acquitted for child molestation, and you won't ask him to babysit again. Or you can read about that scrawny ugly nerd in the neighborhood who might be responsible for the strings of arson in the city.

But at the same time I can't bring myself to completely disregard tabloids because of the very concept of them is anchored in hatred. To read up on people and judge them for every minuscule mistake and blunder they have in their lives; what? Do YOU read them to hear heartwarming stories about their lives? FUCK NO. We read them to mock and laugh and judge. They are in fact a necessary evil in society, if only they could choose better targets.

Congratulations! You're A Certified Misanthrope!

If you've done all the necessary steps above, then I welcome you to adulthood, where you learn that everything in life is terrible, and the only reason that certain parts of it aren't are because you haven't looked hard enough at it it. Ignorance is bliss, but do you want to be an ignoramus? Hell no you don't. That bliss will be gone eventually, so best get used to it now. You'll soon learn to take joy in life again by manifesting your hatred into violent crimes and misguided recreation.

That's it for today's lesson. I have to leave tonight because I moonlight as a back-alley abortionist outside of Planned Parenthood, where I end up raping and impregnating my customers after the procedure so I can teach them that life has no easy ways out.

IT'S A SOCIAL SERVICE, SHUT UP.