DISCLAIMER: I am a very open person. If this kind of honesty offends or appalls you, this is NOT the post for you. Look elsewhere, please.

     On Friday, for the second time, I went out with a few co-workers to a club. Before I write anything else, I want to make it clear that I do NOT like clubs. Clubs, especially of the kind my co-workers seem to like, cater to our humanity at its most base; I believe they call them "clubs" because going to one and picking up a hookup for the night is about as easy as bashing a large, blunt piece of wood over one's head and dragging your catch to your nearby cave. So, yeah. Fuck clubs.

     Anyway, I went out with them and I even got my bump and grind on. But it made me uncomfortable. It never feels right, bet then again, how can it? Apparently my dancing got the attention of a few fairly liquored up women in the evening establishment I was at, one thing led to another, and before I even realized it I was pointlessly rubbing the fly of my jeans against an attractive alcoholic's ass.

     Now, I've done one night stands. I have been a fuckbuddy. I even took one "for the team" once. And none of those activities were particularly degrading. Hell, among two grown people a one night stand can go quite well; sex is fun and sometimes you just don't want those pesky emotions getting in the way of a really, really good night. I even understand the fuckbuddy situation: friends with benefits can and does work! Don't let Hollywood or religion trick you into thinking it's impossible to detach love from sex or vice versa. 

     What is degrading is bump and grind. And it isn't just degrading for the woman, it demeans us all. Didn't we get past this? At least I got the name of the girl I was dancing with. One of my co-workers (who also danced with her) referred to her as "polka dots" all night. I just got bothered by it. I don't "pick up" girls. I prefer introducing myself. Call me old-fashioned, but I have self-respect and dignity, and I have respect for those I'm interested in, even if my interest is purely physical. I like cafes and open mike nights, where I can meet educated girls who have wonderful ideas and, hopefully, freckles. But I digress. 

     Bottom line: I'm not saying that people who frequent clubs aren't smart or cultured. But they aren't above seeming as though they don't really care about themselves or others beyond 24 hours. And that is why I detest clubs and the bump and grind.

 

The case for a creator is problematic, at best. Nevertheless, when I woke up this morning an hour late for work and then found out the school were closed, I did I little prayer. Like a "Thanks for the favor, God!" sort of thing. Why? Because factors beyond my control have saved me from a unfavorable fate. I don't even know if I believe in a mightier power, and I certainly am not arrogant enough to believe that it snowed that heavily to save ME; after all, my alarm failing to go off is ALSO beyond my control. (To explain this: occasionally, my alarm simply does not produce a sound when it's at a high enough volume to wake me. There are no loose wires inside the machine and it has not suffered any structural damage; I actually had someone who knows what they're doing examine the thing. Sometimes it just deigns to screw me over. It, or a mightier power.)

It's comforting though: who do I have to thank? Someone or something bigger than us, or sheer dumb luck? 

Hey any and/or everyone,
it's been a while since I posted anything up here. Just a recap. The hot item of the week is that I got fired from my job. After about five months of exemplary work, forgetfulness and apparently an alarm that wasn't on caused me to come in late to work twice, which caused me to get fired. I liked my job, I made good money. Well, good enough for a single guy holed up in a room, anyway. But there had always been complaints. The worst one had to do with me leering at someone. Now, I am a guy and guys do check people out; everyone checks people out. But I also know it's just stupid to check people out at work and I'm always incredibly self-conscious about that so that I can deliberately AVOID trouble. So I assumed somebody didn't like me.
But I did have this job for six months, so I can probably get some kind of help from unemployment. Furthermore, after I file my taxes I should get a modest return and President Asshole's stimulus check as well. I'm living dangerously, but I can't really return home. It's just not a well conceived plan, you know? I'm going to have to utilize all the resources available to me to find work, and I'm not averse to working full-time, although I'd prefer not to.
Och. This post is definitely NOT making me any more desirable. But at least it's honest.
Peace
-J

I ran into a girl I know a couple of nights ago. We went out once, but it was just as two friends going out, no big deal. And after running into her, I realized why I go on okcupid as often as I do. There is the obvious fact that I live in the city of New York and the chances of meeting the many wonderful people I've met through this site is 8 million:1. But also, macfactor. It's this factor I made up; I'm sure it goes by different names. It calculates, on a scale of 1 to 10, how well someone may have his or her "mac" on.
And I don't have much of one. I'm a very social person, but I have what I call "Foot in Mouth Syndrome." It's a lot easier to regulate what I want to say via email, despite my general distaste for the medium versus face to face interaction.
Well, I'm working on it. Getting better every day.
Until next time,
Peace.

I was dumped. By text message. On New Year's Eve, no less. Apparently I was trying to steer my relationship in a more serious direction than my ex wanted it to go. But then, it was never specifically noted that she didn't want any emotional entanglements. So, I'm confused. The year is over, but I still lack the closure the end of the year usually brings for me. Whether it's accomplishment or resignation, it always feels done. Like I can look back at my ups and downs and say, "So long, ****!" Not this year. The year is gone, unresolved. No resolution can undo that.

Hey all, or rather, anyone:
I spent last night at my mother's house, which was, until September, also my home. She misses me. It's very easy to guilt me into doing things I don't really want to do. As a child I was put through the "Jewish mother" treatment: no child survives that without feeling tremendous guilt for any thing that they haven't done as they should have.
Nevertheless, it's always nice to return home for a day or two, have a home-cooked meal, see my little brother, and sleep in my old bed. The comforts of home. Despite how much I don't miss the place, it feels good to have more than one place to call home; to call where I belong.
Ta-ta for now.

I'm going to start of by stating a fact which I find to be abundantly true: I am NOT a "blog" person. However, I'll do the best I can, I assure you. I'm the kind of person who can't really stick to something like a blog; the whole notion of me as a blogger kind of disgusts me. Although, antithetically speaking, those people who blog like it's a religion, despite striking me as odd, are very much interesting people, and I sort of envy their sticktoitiveness. I have a certain type of respect for someone who's brave enough and candid enough to unabashedly divulge to the world at large a slice of his or her life. In this same spirit, I will try to please whoever I can with this.
Hello, my name is Jordan. It's a pleasure to have you read.