George Wendell

(NOTE: The following is a piece of prose I wrote years ago for a creative writing class I was in. I know normally I would use a blog to whine about my life, but I'm somehow just not in the mood today. And while I can only think of one person that might actually be interested in reading this, it's still my blog and I get to post whatever I want. Cheers!)

George Wendell stared at himself in the mirror. "When did I get so old?" he thought. He knew the better days of his youth were behind him, but he couldn't recall ever seeing all the effects of aging in his face as well as he could this morning. Yet now he stood there in disbelief, feeling as if the harsh hand of reality had just smacked him and he could scarcely recognize the face staring back at him.

He rubbed his eyes, hoping that what he was seeing was nothing more than the effects of sleep and the tricks they could play on one's vision upon first awakening. But after vigorous rubbing and a couple splashes of cold water, he saw no change.

"How?" he asked himself, "how did this happen?"

He ran his fingers through his hair. When did it all turn grey he wondered. He remembered finding single strands of grey every now and then, like little islands of malcontent in the dark ocean of conformity that rested upon the top of his head, but they were always well hidden and easily missed by the casual observer. Now he found it difficult to find the few remaining dark hairs left. And the hair, how much thinner it had become. It had been so thick, he remembered; so thick in fact that more than one barber had complained of it feeling like a chore to cut his hair. Certainly he noticed the many individual strands that seemed to come out with each shower, but they never seemed to amount to this. Now his forehead reached higher than ever before and the rest of his hair, when combed all in the same direction, seemed to barely hide his scalp.

But it was just his hair he told himself. Some store bought hair dye and one of this programs to fight against hair loss and everything would be back to normal. He should just move on with his morning routine and he could take care of his worry about his hair later.

He brought his toothbrush to his mouth and then paused. What had happened to his pearly whites? Sure, he drank a fair amount of coffee, but certainly not enough to stain his teeth like this. And he'd quit smoking so long ago he could barely remember the horrible habit so there was no way that was to blame.

He pushed forward with his routine and grabbed his shaving razor. There was no comfort for him to find in that activity either. As he applied his aftershave, he couldn't remember his skin ever feeling so rough. "It must be the cold," he told himself. Surely that wasn't something that changed with age.

And then there were all the tiny folds in his skin; there must've been thousands! Had they attacked him during the night, when he was defenseless? How else could there be so many seemingly so fast? How else could they cause him to look so old? If this were some sort of gradual process, he certainly would've noticed what was happening before this point.

Finally he noticed his eyes, those windows to his soul. How could it be possible that eyes once so bright could now be so dull?

George Wendell wanted to cry, but he wasn't even sure what for. He wasn't even sure he could remember how.

If I Was a Superhero...

My superhero name would be... Creepy-but-well-meaning-man.

If I was part of a superhero team, it would be... The Buffalo Bills.

I would've gained my superpowers... on a drunk night when I stumbled into a university library filled with radioactive books.

I would continue to draw my strength from... coffee, awesome music, and the need to impress a specific woman.

My superpowers would be... confusing people to the point they give up and making people feel bad for wearing clothing made in China.

I would fight... crime, but only when it was convenient for my sleeping schedule and I was sure I would win.

My weaknesses would be... frosted sugar cookies and pretty girls wanting to talk to me.

My sidekick would be... Alaskan White.

My theme song would be... a techno remix of the Reading Rainbow song.

The friend I'd trust to know my superhero secret despite the inherent high risk to his life would be... Captain Morgan.

My secret hideout would be in... Candy Land.

My archnemesis would be... GCI.

A Major Change

As in I'm going to change my major. Back to what I originally had it as even, which is English.

All through high school I wanted to be an English major that went on to be a teacher and a writer. But then as I met a lot of other English majors, I noticed a trend: 99.99% of them all want to be writers (and planned on teaching as well, at least until they made it big as a writer). And not wanting to be a cliche, I started thinking about changing my major. And then I lived in England for a couple years, where I was literally surrounded by history. And I fell in love with it (both the history and the country). So it seemed to me that history would make a good new major. I'd also decided against the idea of being a writer. Because it was a lot of work and there's definitely no guaranteed big payout in writing (if there's any payout at all). And for me, the thought of writing a novel only to have it go unpublished just isn't worth it (I know a lot of authors say they'd write anyways, even if they weren't published, because they love it so much. But that's not me; there's too many video games I could be playing during that time. Also, given the chance, I'd throw the BS flag on most those authors).

Anyways, being a history major just hasn't been doing it for me. I'm about as enthused to go to school these days as I am the dentist (and if the dentist has laughing gas available, I'd probably rather see him). It's gotten to the point that I've been considering just quitting school. I'd rather be working a job I hate and at least make some money then be going to school and hating it and being completely broke. However, after talking to some people and doing a lot of thinking, I've decided to change my major instead (though I still need to get some sort of job because the GI Bill is not paying enough and being broke isn't as easy as I thought it would be).

Another reason I decided to change is that UAA's history department is very lacking. While all the professors I've had were excellent, they're few in number and unfortunately, there's no real class offerings for where I'd like my focus to be (medieval Europe, mostly England). There's also no option for going beyond a four year degree in history at UAA and I would definitely like to have a master's degree someday (actually a PhD would be more preferred, but that's something I'd definitely have to leave state for). It's a shame really, because from what I can tell, there's a much greater interest in history at the school than the admin seems to want to acknowledge (though what else can you expect from an admin that has made an art form of sticking their heads up their asses?).

Anyways, the ultimate goal is still to be a teacher someday (rather ironic since I hate being a student). And maybe I'll take back up the idea of wanting to be a writer, but that's definitely not for sure (and won't be until I'm actually writing). Still, when you get emails from people you don't know in regards to your blog and they say, "...you, who apparently don't have any interest in pursuing a career as a writer, seem to have a natural talent which others can only dream about," it begins to make you wonder if there isn't something else you should be doing with your life. (Yes, I've heard similar friends and family, but they're friends and family; they'd better say stuff like that if they want to remain so.)

Maybe Disney Ruined Me

I have a friend that likes to remind me, "Treat a girl like dirt and she'll stick to you like mud." And he's right. I know this not only by observing so many people around me (particularly the large amount of girls I know that complain of the men in their lives being assholes) or by the plethora of movies and songs that are based upon this idea, but also from personal experience.

But I just don't have it in me to treat a girl I actually like as though she doesn't mean much of anything to me. And I wouldn't want to if I could.

Maybe it's because of all the Disney movies I grew up watching as a child or other movies like "The Princess Bride", but I'll be damned if I don't believe in actual romance and things like "...happily ever after." And while they may be a stretch of the imagination in this modern age, it doesn't mean they're impossible or aren't worth believing in.

So in my mind, if I'm not doing all I can to keep a girl I like happy from day one (that being the day I realize I really like her), than I'm failing. I know this will likely land me in the friend zone time and time again. That sucks. But the more I think about lately, the more I realize that's better than being with a woman I lost all respect for the moment she started caring about me when I acted like I didn't care about her.

And if all this means that in the end I'll just end up dying alone, so it goes. It seems much better to me than the alternative of having someone there and still feeling alone.

Anyways, I'm writing this for a couple reasons.

One, no matter how much the jaded side of me tells me to give up, I just don't seem to be able to do that yet. Maybe after the next heartbreak or romantic disappointment.

And two, as a general warning to any readers that my blog will continue to be filled with posts about romantic failures and how frustrated I am with them. And since some people seem to need reminding (yet again), if you don't like it, don't read them. I promise not to be bothered by the lack of emails and texts telling me to quit whining while conversely trying to offer me advice (particularly when the advice comes from people whom are in relationships that just don't look like fun to me*).

Finally, for the record, if I ever do meet "the one", I'm going to do all I can to spoil her beyond belief and make her the happiest woman on earth. As far as I'm concerned, if other women aren't jealous of her because of what I'm doing, than I'm not doing a good job and I'm going to try even harder. (I already have some experience in this and if past conversations from it all are any indication of future trends, I'm going to do a kick ass job). And then you better believe I'm going to rub it in everyone doubters face. (Luckily, odds are more in favor of me dying alone, but until I'm dead, we just can't know what the future holds).

*When I say the relationships of some people I know don't look like fun, it doesn't mean I'm saying they aren't fun. However, I know I could never be happy in any of them, making the advice offered by people in such relationships null and avoid since they're assuming what worked for them will work for me.

Why Be Cynical When You Can Be Jaded?

I'm going to expand upon the previous post regarding the girl from class (from here on out referred to as Girl 3, which is in regards to the 20 dates thing I was supposed to do) and what really bothers me about the whole situation. And also the most recent situation.

When Girl 3 and I first hung out, she mentioned recently getting out of a long relationship. I told her I didn't want to be a rebound and while I wasn't against just "having fun" to begin with, I wanted to know there was a chance for things to go somewhere serious. She assured me I wasn't a rebound. The relationship she'd just gotten out of had, for all intents and purposes, been over for months, but it wasn't until recently they finally decided to officially end it. And she said she was also of mind that she was interested in things going somewhere serious. Which is why I thought things looked so good.

And then a week later she tells me that she's not looking for anything serious since she just got out of a long relationship. Which was a big "WTF" moment for me, but I said ok. We didn't talk for a few days after that, but eventually I decided to text her and see how things were. She told me she met someone else she felt she was "more compatible with". So there I was pissed, confused, and blogging about it, but after a few days I decide to just move on and try again.

Shortly after I meet a girl (I think of her as Girl DB) while I'm out one night and we exchange numbers. A couple days later I asked if I could take her to dinner and she said yes, but her work was keeping her pretty busy at the time, so she'd let me know when she had a night off. After a few days of not hearing from her, I just assume that was her way of saying no (though I don't know why she would have put the word "yes" in her answer; the proper way to go about it is just saying work has her busy). But then a couple days ago she let's me know she has a night off. After a little talking about it, we decided where to go and when to meet. Then two hours before we're supposed to meet, she tells me she "has laundry to do". At any point during the day while we were texting back and forth she could've said something, but instead she waits til shortly before we're to meet up. WTF? I don't know the reasons why she'd act like that and I'm past the point of actually caring.

What bothers me about both these situations is the lack of backbone. Being rejected sucks, but I'd rather be outright rejected than avoided or led on.

I'm getting to feel like I'd be better off with prostitutes for my carnal needs and drugs for my emotional ones.