A Jordan by any other name would just sound stupid...

So, I've been training at my new job right? And apparently Jordan isn't a common name or something, because so far I've been called every thing but my actual name. I've been called buddy, man, dude, guy, and my personal favorite: boss. My name is Jordan, nothing less nothing more. I'm not your buddy, I'm not your dude, I'm not your friend. I'm Jordan, and you can call me as such, and if you'd rather not then don't call me anything, make my life less stupid and just leave me alone. Although even though I hate being called anything other than my actual name, I don't mind the whole "boss" thing so bad. I am your boss bitch, bow down. Bow Down.

I'm Ready To Be Extraordinary

Just when I think my life is becoming somewhat stable again. New job, less drama, more time with people I love more than anything in the world. Britney Spears has to go shave her head and put herself in rehab. If you know me at all, you know that I have perhaps an unhealthy addiction to anything and everything Britney Spears. I want her to release music, and dance, and do backflips, and stop having babies, and maybe stop drinking, but most of all I just want her to be happy. Like I said, if you know me at all, you know my dreams, and you know my aspirations. Well Britney Spears is like the pinnacle to me, the lowly hometown girl who had a dream, who made it happen who let it get to her, who had things happen to her that she didn't plan on. I don't want that to ever be me. I dont' want to wake up one day and wonder how the hell I got there. I want to know what my life will turn out like instead of all this damn uncertainty all the time. And I guess at the end of the day all of that cluelessness and restlessness and sleepless nights, are what make life, life. But to me it would just be easier to know what's coming up, to what's going on, to see the bigger picture instead of the tiny snapshots of yesterday and today, and last week. I want to know that I'll fall in love, and be successful, and be blessed with all the things that make a otherwise ordinary life, extraordinary. I am ready to be extraordinary, I don't think I can just exsist anymore. I have to BE. I have to be something better than just me.

Wishes

I'm the kind of boy who runs from his problems. I duck and I hide. I break up with people when I think it's getting hard, I stop talking to friends when we get into an argument. I ignore my own problems in hopes that they will all go away. I now wish that I knew how to be different. Now that my whole world feels like it's collapsing in on my head I wish I knew how to stand up and change, to stand up and fight, instead of just running away, acting like that scared little child that deep down I still am.

I just wish I was different.

A Modest Proposal

Today I made my first credit card purchase, I guess that's a milestone. But to be honest I would have rather it had not happened. I just spent three hundred dollars on four brand new tires that I don't even want. Let me drive that home to you, three hundred dollars is enough to by so many more things that are more necessary to sustain life for instance you could buy a brand new beagle puppy for fifty dollars less than it costs for four brand new tires. You could buy a sparkling new ipod, or alternatively you could stay two nights in a fabulous hotel suite in the Orlando Florida Hilton Hotel. You could even buy a night of passionate love from yours truly (before taxes of course).
All these things asside however, I've come with a solution to our biggest problem: money. We need to get rid of all money and go back to the bartering system. But, instead of trading with scraps of metal or our virgin daughters I think we should barter with important things; like love. For instance I'm sure that there is someone in this world who had four perfectly good tires for a ninety six jeep cherokee, that they would have been more than willing to give me for either a year of friendship or a week of passionate sex. I'd be willing to do either if it means that I don't have to pay three hundred dollars for some motherfucking tires.

Pretty much the worst weekend of my life (so far)

I don't have enough energy to actually write in complete sentences, so from here on out, I will write a list of awful things that happened thus far.

Was forced to wake up at three o clock to go to work on Black Friday
Was cussed out by very rude customers at "Great Purchase"
Went fourteen hours straight without eating
Got in a car accident , involving me, and an unsuspecting ditch.
Told I was irresponsible, and the bain of my family's exsistence.
Told I was a role model for younger people, and that I needed to change my lifestyle to accomodate them. Fuck that.

Okay, you should see this.

Just for the record I love Paris Hilton. I just think it's really funny to hear Lindsay Lohan say anything derrogatory about anyone else. Especially when it involves the word "cunt"

New Header

Compliments of yours truly, enjoy and shit.

Yeah I stole this

I stole this from Her, who stole it from this person who I've never met.

Instructions:Write 10 statements to 10 different people.Never tell which one is for who.

1.I wish we talked more, but sometimes it's easier just not to call, because I don't like hearing about your life when it doesn't involve me.

2. I don't call or write you, because the air surrounding our ruined frienship is too fragile, too stale. It seems like nothing has been spoken between us, but everythings already been said.

3. Sometimes I fear I might use you as an emotional crutch

4. I can't help but say most of the time I really don't like you, I just tolerate you because everyone says that I have to.

5. I love you, but it seems like the only time we're close is when we're pissed off about something.

6. I really just don't know what we are anymore.

7. Sometimes I think about calling you just to see what's up, but then I remember that I'm not allowed to do that.

8. You are perfect in your own way, I like seeing how you turn out. You always surprise me.

9. I think a new career is in order, I hope that you find everything you're looking for.

10. I love you for everything you are, and aren't.


Okay, done. I'll give you a hint. The last one is about myself, or maybe it's about Britney Spears. I really don't recall.

Happy Birthday Postarita

On this very day one year ago. I created Postarita on a whim. One year ago today I was in a dark time in my life. I was uprooted, single, and losing faith. Now one year later I'm just single with no faith. I'm looking for a shaky kind of inner peace, one that I haven't found yet. Having Postarita in my life has helped me somewhat however. Here's to another year Postarita. Happy Birthday.

Postarita (N)
Poe-stah-ree-tah1. A blog to discuss the funny and thoughts of a ninteen year old boy.
2. Post as in post hurricane Rita that completely uprooted said boy for nearly two months, and nearly destroyed his home town.
3. Postarita as in if you switch it out for "Senorita" in the Justin Timberlake song of the same name, you have a catchy pop diddy.

Oh, the joys of being a ruthless bitch.

S.S.B.

Today we're going to jump right in, and talk about something very serious. An epedemic that is gripping the nation. I'm talking my friends about a little something CAlled S.S.B. Though it is not the latest craze of sexually transmitted disease or anything as gruesome, it is something troublesome. OF course I"m talking about Secret Single Behavour. Those little thigns you do when you're not dating someone, that you would never actually let someone you had feelings for, or just wanted to bone, that you actually do. You know those little quirks that you and only you alone are allowed to be knowledgeable of. I never thought I would divulge mine, at least not for all the internet to see, but I'm going to for the sake of this post. My secret single behaviour, is locking myself in my bathroom for hours at a time, and messing with my hair. I wax it up for texture, I gel it up for height, I straighted it for something different. And then when all is said and done, I wash my hair and leave the house for the day. All of my minutes of messing going unnoticed, because I never actually let anyone see me like that. So be awed, be surprised, be shocked and unhappy. These are the things that are lurking in people's closets. You all have them too. You're all just not as open with the internet as I am.

A few days ago I recieved an email from myself, courtesy of futureme.org. I didn't rememeber writing it. So it was surprise when I got it. Though I'm so glad that I did write it. It makes me realize how it's really the little things that matter. It really is. As long as I can chill out in the park with my ipod, and get excited over the latest Britney Spears, I'll be alright. As long as I stay grounded, and keep in tune with me. Things will never be that bad.

The letter:

Dear FutureMe,

I hope I haven't let you down too badly. I hope you've found love and life. I hope you're still singing, and writing, and loving everything about yourself. I hope you take the time to listen to your ipod in the park, and talk to your best friends. I hope you've lost a little weight, and grown out your hair. I hope you still read, and I hope you still love Britney Spears. I hope that everything for you is good. Most of all, I hope things keep getting even better.I love you.

Someday

One of these days, I'll start learning from mistakes. One of these days I'll stop living in the past. One of these days, I won't be affected like this. One of these days it won't still feel like a punch in the stomach, a sudden vaccum sucking all of the air out of my lungs, my heart stops beating, my eyes widen, my hands clench. I can't stop it. I can't right now. But someday I will. Someday I will.

But Jordan! Think of the employee discount!

As some of you may or may not know, last week I quit the job that I've been working at since I was eighteen years old. Although you'd be hard presseed to be able to consider it a career, it was like my home. I spent a greater majority of my time there, all my friends are still there. But last week I decided it was time to embark on something bigger and better. Alot of the things I'm about to say are probably not wise to post on the internet for fear of being dooced, but I'm cool with it.

Like I was saying as you may or may not know I now work for and I quote "The world's largest consumer electronics retailer". I will not actually cite the company by it's name but for clarities sake we'll call it "Great Purchase". I started last week, and at first I was pretty sure I loved it. Sure everyone seemed to clap a whole lot, and the pep talks and things like "There is no mountain too high, dream the impossible" being said at every possible moment was a little cumbersome. Yet all things considered I was pretty sure I was going to like it in spite of all that. The pay was great, and the benefits were even better. Sure the my co workers look a little lactose intolerant but I can deal with that too. And for the first few days everything seemed alright. I went merrirly along my way stocking cds, and dvds, and other consumer electronics that make us and I quote "The world's largest consumer electronics reatailer", and all seemed right in the world. But that was all until this week, where things hit a fever pitch.

I mentioned something casually about the constant clapping and pep talks, but I doubt I really did alot to drive home that point to you. It is a constant threat, that makes us want to pull out our hair, and punch someone squarely in the conjones. It is ever present, ever looming; the fear of having to cheer out in jubilation over a company we've only been working for a little over a week. When we get there at the beginning of our shift, we do jumping jacks, and in each interval we spell out the companies name. When we adjourn for a lunch break we are forced to "give them" the letters that spell out the name of our business. When we come back from lunch we are made to recite a cheer that not only do we have to memorize, but we will also be tested on. And God forbid we just clock out and leave at the end of our shift, heavens no. I mean how dare we want to leave when we've only been clapping for the last nine hours of our lives? How fucking dare we. So yet again, we are made to cheer just one more time before we all leave to walk ourselves into oncoming traffic hoping for the absolute worst.

To some people this situation doesn't sound that horrible. Great pay? Sign me up! Benefits and discounts out the ass? Sounds great! But if only you had to endure the constant peppiness, the incesant clapping, the ever present cheering and yelling; you too would be looking for an easy way out: death. But even all of that wasn't enough for me to truly, truly hate my job until today. The day when they thought it would be best to stop the hours upon hours of meticulous arranging and pricing merchandise. No today, we got a special treat. Today we got to sit in front of a three hundred pound man from our very important "corporate offices", and hear him talk about the joys of high deffinition television for five hours straight. Five fucking hours of pixels, and bit rates, and handing out Pez dispensers for the people who got answers to questions correct.

In case you were wondering, no I was not a recipient of a most sought after Pez dispenser. Apparently I'm not worthy of such a thing as a appendageless cartoon head attached to a plastic tube. But even after suffering such a loss, I was still in the game. Iw asn't quite ready to throw in the proverbial towel. That was until as I was trying ot make my escape at five o clock after one last round of clapping, that one of the managers came up to me and said "Jordan, we need to talk about something." Of course the first thought that came to my mind was "Oh, shit. He realized I was asleep for most of that speech about high deffinition tv, didn't he? Holy bejesus fuckballs." And just as I was trying to think of a beliveable lie for why I was asleep, he says "It's about your khakis." I look down at my Abercrombie and Fitch regulation standard issue khaki pants. Sure there are a few frayed edges at the bottom cuffs, but I kind of thought that brought a nice touch. I mean it's not like I paid for these pants to be ripped, this is all natural! You should praise me on how real I am, or something equally stupid. Then he says "Your khakis are not what "great purchase" considers khaki." I look down at the dark tan of my pants, and look back up questionly, my thoughts drifting to things such as "then what color is it dipshit?". He then says to me "Just make sure you fix the problem Jordan, remember that the impossible is possible here at "Great Purchase", I would hate to see you ruin it with the wrong uniform." He looks at me as if he doesn't even believe what he's saying and then turns around and goes back inside. The entire time I'm thinking "Look, Mister corporate, I don't fucking want your mountain. I don't fucking want you're godamned impossible possibillity or whatever the fuck you're talking about. But I do want you to realize that this is what khaki looks like in America. So take a long hard look at my supossed unkhaki colored knee; because you're about to get it up your ass."

I then went home, and instead of walking into on coming traffic like I had promised myself that I would. I sang myself a little ditty instead. You know there really is no mountain high enough. No river wide enough...

Too Much

I just got an email from some random spammer with the current tagline:

"It's okay, it is common to have problems with errections."


Okay, stop right there. Hold on buddy, don't you think this is too much too soon? I mean come on, we hardly know eachother! We've barely even met, and here you are talking specifics about your errection? Didn't your mother teach you any better?

Scheduling.

I just stepped outside a little past midnight to smoke a cigarette. As I inhaled, I noticed all the subtle beauty surrounding me. The gentle reds and tans of the hard brick wall I was leaning upon, the calm winds that tugged the ends of my unruly hair, the moon shining more brightly than I can remember in recent times. It's comforting to know that even if I'm on the outs with my best friend, and my love life is going less than spectacularly...or actually not going anywhere at all (Though, alas that is another post), that life still has simple ways of treating you to a moment that is purely, and simply just for you. And it's sad that we take so little time to appreciate it. All we have to do is show up, the world is already making the perfect moments and memories for us. And while we go about our busy lives , having arguments, and shedding tears, the world just keeps your reservation open for you for the moment you decide to take up it's offer. And I think that's a date we all need to schedule in our date books.

Short

Up date: I just dyed my hair black.

Pictures will be up soon.

That is all.

It's time for things to come full circle.

Happy Fucking Fourth.

Today I spent most of my time doing what all true Americans do on this great holiday we know as Independance Day; I sat on my ass and sold fireworks. This is fine. This is perfectly normal. What is not perfectly normal, however is the fact that this firework's stand is located in the great outdoors. If you know me at all you know that me and the outside world don't necessarily always get along. I mean sometimes we're civil to eachother, but sometimes we're downright rude bitches to one another. This is where the struggle begins me being rude to the mother earth, and the mother earth pissing all over me. Which is actually how the story begins in the first place, piss. As I stated earlier the fireworks stand is located in a giant tent in the middle of town surrounded by lots and lots of trees, but no public restroom. Whoever thought this was a bright idea, I would like to personally kill. It was eventually inevitable though I tried to hold it in for the last week that I have worked there, today on the busiest day of the year for an average fireworks stand, my bladder decided to shit out on me. So I leave the tent, and find a tree. This is not something I'm necessarily happy about. Peeing outside leaves a boy feeling very vunerable and slightly mortified. Although as I stated before this is truly where the conflict comes into play. Suddenly as I'm disposing of several liters of coca cola products I had consumed earlier in the day, my foot begins to burn with the intensity of a thousand midgets clawing their way out of a dumpster of ferrets. Or something equally as bad. At first, I freaked out because I thought I was peeing on my foot, and if that had happened I would have just had to cut it off. I can not walk around knowing that urine had ever been on my foot. But suddenly I realize that I am standing in a freaking ant pile. Gonads to the wind, and tiny insects scurrying up my leg biting the shit out of me. What excatly did I do to deserve this? I mean it's not like I'm dumping toxic waste here, I'm pretty sure urine is biodegradable right? To wrap things up, I finally zipped up my pants, and found another tree as I tried to rid my leg of said ants. All the time wondering if this is what started it all. Were our nations great forefathers peeing in the woods, and suddenly had a eureka that we should have own govermment? Or did they too get their limbs gnawed off by scurrying creatures? I guess we'll never know.