Choice (Find Yourself)

I have recently felt like if everyone gave me two actual cents when they gave me their two cents, I would be very wealthy. I guess in some respects I should take comfort in the fact that people want to advise me in aspects, in others it can just get fairly draining. I have always felt like I am the kind of person you can confide in with anything. Even murder. Just kidding. I probably would lose sleep over that. But really. If you murdered someone I would like to know.

I guess seeing that my life has been a constant swing of change over the last month or two it's nice to have people give me advice from their experience, what they would recommend I should do and be doing. But at the end of the day, everybody not only should, but will make their own decisions. Regardless of what that may be, and if that conflicts with what you think they ought to be doing. To be in a state where you hold a grudge against someone for the choices they make makes you look like an asshole. Unless that choice was murder or something extreme like that. Then okay. (Seriously, i wanna know)

I guess I have been thinking a lot about this topic because there has been such a sea of turmoil in my own family and my personal life.  There has been choices made, nerves tapped, and feelings hurt. Some of it is certainly not ill deserved, others are somewhat menial. The issue I take with it most of all, is the ripple effect that some peoples choices make into others lives. I guess when your choices are effecting others, there can be issue taken there.

I guess I just don't ever wanna feel like I need to choose a side in an issue I am loosely involved in. I think that in most of life you shouldn't have to feel like you need to constantly be choosing sides. Unless it's in a Giants-Dodgers match. Then it's a simple choice. Screw the Dodgers. Times infinity.
All joking aside, I just feel like that is what my life, and this whole world has turned into. A bunch of bickering damn middle school girls. Regardless of whether that's politics, religion, money, this that and the other. No matter where you go, what corner you turn, someone is there to slap you in the face with a differing opinion; an opposing team. That shit blows man.

I guess I have never been about world peace, because I have a brain. That's just never ever gonna happen. Have you ever tried to talk to the indian guy at 7-11? If you have not, that may be the reason that you still believe in world peace. Or maybe you've never been stiffed at a restaurant. Or got bitched out by some foreigner at a gas station about using wanting to use your personal cell phone. (These are all real scenarios, I lead a strange life.) And I guess that this is the stem of it all, for me. I don't want people to fight and argue. But I also know that everybody is an asshole. Realist; is what I believe people label it. (I just call it miserable)

I think in the past while I have heard so much jaw-jacking about the choices I am making, what I am doing, that I don't wear pants, that I wear too much black, and on and on and on. And Part of me has a burning desire to change these things, because I want to please people. I guess I am somewhat insecure that way. But the other part of me in consciously aware of what I like. And I am not gonna start wearing jeans because holy shit, it's too hot.

I guess the just of what I am getting at is this; Do whatever the shit you wanna do. Because at the end of the day, you're gonna be the one living the the wake of your decision. Your mom and dad wont. Your friends won't. Your trusted colleague won't. Your group of girls that are all simultaneously your best friends won't. Just you. (And maybe your wife/husband Girlfriend/Boyfriend) So regardless of what people are telling you, just be true to your own self. It is impossible to please everyone. Someone is always gonna hate the color orange. Someone is always gonna like the opposing team. Someone is always gonna think you're wasting your time. Someone is always gonna think you're pissing your life away. Someone is always gonna think you're too fat to fit on the roller coaster when in reality the person just wasn't strong enough to buckle it and made you look like a dick when in reality they're the dick, someone is always gonna say "Holy Shit! you wear size thirteen shoe? What are you, some kind of giant? Do they special make these shoes?" and then cry when you push them down the stairs, Someone is always gonna think you look better with a short beard, some people are gonna think you look better with a long beard, Someone is always gonna make fun of you because your hands are the size of dinner plates, someone is always gonna laugh because you have nice coats and hoodies that you wear in the dead of winter with shorts on, someone is always gonna think you are too small for your car, and on and on and on.

I think you get the gist of what I am saying. Just follow your own heart. Do whatever you think is best. And if someone disagrees, that's okay. They'll learn at some point that you're happy. And doing what you think is best, and at the end of the day, that's all that matters. To hell with anyone who says otherwise. Just do yourself a favor, and make your choices, but don't burn bridges beyond repair in the process. Especially those you love most.

I Don't Think You're A Nice Girl.

I guess firstly I would like to address something. I got an overwhelming amount of feedback from my last (and obviously most depressed and transparent) post. So much so that it brought tears to my eyes. I had mostly felt like nobody reads this shit. And that was fine with me. I just needed and outlet. And you guys brought much joy and happiness into my life; for that I will forever be grateful.

That being said, I understand how much it means to know someone cares. And if you are at all feeling like you need to talk to someone, and feel comfortable doing so, you can always feel free to contact me. By whatever means. I would be more than happy to hear you out and let you know you aren't alone. I have had a saving grace of my own for the last while. She knows who she is, and how grateful I am that she's been there. And I hope that if someone does need to vent or whatever, don't hesitate. You are never alone.

So an interesting turn of events in my life led me to California. And not shitty LA, either. A city thats warm. A place where the beer flows like wine. Where beautiful women instinctively flock like the salmon of Capistrano. San Francisco. Outside of going through phases of being homesick and missing someone a lot, it's an absolute dream to be where I am at. I know there are several typical white girls who want to travel, who would kill me and take my place in a heart beat. Shit, they wouldn't even take second thought to it. But I am working at a restaurant out here and basically taking some time to figure out who Jake is, and what Jake wants. Some agree with me doing this, others think its a bit frivolous (Sorry mom) regardless, I am happy where I am, with my best friend on the planet doing all the weird shit you're imagining we are (No homo, you sickos)

Having said that, working in a restaurant is really trying. I am the kind of customer who walks into a store knowing full well what I am after. I don't need someone to show me around or point me in the right direction. I am the same way at restaurants. I don't wanna talk to my waiter, I don't need suggestions, I know what I like, so leave me alone. Which I am sure embarrasses my date. And my issue is, I treat customers that way. I don't talk to them, ask them where they're from or what they're doing here. I ask if they want more water or cheese on the food they ordered. That's it. 

The other night I was really hurting. I just wanted to go home to my parents house and watch Home Alone with my dad. On top of that, I was busting my ass running up and down the stairs. There was a table of 5 people that came into my section, and the man of the table was the representative for Anchor Stream, a beer company the restaurant uses. So, we needed to treat them well, and have good service. So my first visit to the table, I took water and had sweat pouring down my face. It gets really hot upstairs. So they began to joke with me and ask me how I was, what my name was etc. So I got to chatting with them and they were all very nice. Anyway, they finish their meal, and the rep's wife comes up to me and gives me a huge hug. She then says "I really like you Jake. Our service was exceptional, and the food was great. You are great!" And not to rip anything off, but my heart grew a few sizes that day. 

I don't know of many people who don't appreciate the kindness of others. Yet, kindness is such an unafforded commodity. It seems so scarce. Which is a conundrum to me. I feel like if you know how good it feels to be complimented or treated well, you would pass along the favor. Yet, people are still assholes and treat one another poorly.

I guess that could be cause of someone being a dick to you, so you are a dick in return to everyone else. I just feel like that's so easy and cheap to feel that way. Can you imagine how cool the world would be if everyone did at least 2 nice things a day for someone? Whatever that is. Opening doors, saying yes to a date, throwing someone else's trash in the proper receptacle,  whatever. I just feel like the world could use more nice people. So, do everyone a favor and be nice. Say nice things, don't be brash, don't retaliate to those who cross you, and only start a fist fight if A) They insult your mom B) They insult your significant other C) They insult your family or D) They hit first. 

I don't really know what else I have to say. I just feel like you should be nice, and only be cynical online. 

Why It Scares Me

"I blog because I have a lot to say for someone who lives under a rock. With dirt, and shit."

As somewhat of a disclaimer, This blog is probably going to bum everyone out. So if you don't wanna read that garbage, please don't. This is a blog that is meant to keep my brain in my head.

I honestly haven't been able to sleep in probably 2 weeks. I just lay here and watch the shadows move across my ceiling. And slowly lose clothing to my bed because tossing and turning is hard work. It gets hot. So as a feeble attempt to get some sleep, I am writing this down to get it out of my skull, down on paper, and maybe help someone who may be feeling the same.

I see a lot of the same people on an every day basis at my work. And one of the guys is quite the smart ass. But, I think on a very basic level, he is one of the nicest people I know. Anyway, The other day he walks up to me and says "You know Jake, you seem really unhappy. What's going on? Why aren't you happy?" I suppose that on the draw, I probably said; because I am at work. But the truth of the matter was; I have no idea anymore. People ask; well what makes you happy? I don't know. Getting the rare full nights sleep. Eating the rare good meal. Having time to listen to the music I want.

I guess that a lot of people probably get caught in this trap. Maybe they tied their happiness to a significant other, maybe it was to a friend or a group of friends, and eventually those things dissipate. So they end up drifting with crowds, dabbling in drugs, sex, maybe alcohol, could be anything in order to find a quick fix on happiness. Because isn't that what we all want? To wake up and be happy to be awake. I sure would. That would be nice to be happy to be awake.

Perhaps the other thing that could be altering with my (and maybe others) happiness would be how they cope with things. Tragedy, loss, death, whatever. If you asked me how I cope with things? Shit. I don't even know. I used to drink. A lot. That always ended up worse than before. I guess I have tried confiding in others a time or two. But being a burden on someone else is never a thing I felt comfortable with. I guess now I just put my big headphones on, listen to sad music, and stow myself away in some dark and dismal place. Both physically and mentally speaking. My  philosophy on it is; I'll keep all my emotions right here *motions to chest* and one day; I'll die.

Upon thinking about it, I guess I'm unhappy because I don't try anymore. I used to be very involved in music. But people have the tendency to ruin music for me. Whether intentionally or not, other "fans" can smear a good image. I used to like longboarding, but a few nasty spills keep me at an arms length. I don't know. I work so much that any spare time I have I invest into TV series. 

Truthfully, I'm okay with that. I don't need to be out spinning the tires 100 MPH anymore to feel accomplished. Not anymore. Maybe I'm just getting older. Maybe that's okay.

If I'm being totally honest, there is one thing that has bothered me for so long, and I have sorted of stored it under my bed. This may seem like an anti-whatever and it is anything but that. I am just going to put this out there, because 1. I feel like it. 2. This is my blog and I can do whatever the shit I want.

I guess this beef can seem somewhat dated, and it is. And it's stupid of me to still think about it. But it has bothered me, and I know it's concerned others. But I'll just tell it as it went. I remember on my last day as an LDS missionary they had us have an interview with the mission president before departing to go back home after two long years of service. And I remember sitting in that room with someone who I horribly disrespected. And he didn't say much about me being successful, and that's fine. But the only thing he really said was "Your next goal in life is to get married. you NEED to get married." And that kind of burned into my brain. So, I went home. And after the water stilled I was pretty determined that I was going to go on dates and work towards getting married. Because that was my next goal; apparently. So I tried. And I learned pretty quickly how much I fucking hate women. I realize that I am not prince charming. And I have always gone for the "Ruggedly handsome" look, without realizing that you need to be handsome in order to pull that look off. And my dad doesn't have some huge estate or yatch for me to inherit. But I have come to realize that what I do have is something that money can't buy. And that's my willingness to put everything I have on the line, be constantly reliable, be fiercely loyal without question, and to have absolutely golden intentions. But for whatever reason, no matter how hard I tried, I always managed to find myself walking home alone. And kicking my own ass along the way. I could never pin point what I was missing. So I always chalked it up to the fact that I was overweight. And probably less than good looking. But as I became obsessed with the fact that it was my "Goal" to find a significant other, and I was failing pretty miserably at it. So it took me on this downward spiral pretty quickly. I guess the biggest part of that is that I felt like I was letting God down, I was letting myself down, and I was letting those I loved down. Because I couldn't achieve this one goal. Shit, I couldn't even land a damned date, for crying out loud. So down and down we went. And here we are, almost three years later. Dateless, mostly faithless, and pretty hopeless. I guess it would be more than asinine to point fingers at my mission president, and more importantly the church for my unhappiness. Nobody forced me into stupid avenues. Nobody came up and said "Jake. You're a failure." I only did that to myself. But I think that you are getting the gist of what I am getting at.

Perhaps if my goal when I got home was to figure out what I want to do with my life, and chase that, things would have been different. But here I am with little ambition to change what's become of my life. I guess I sort of obsessed over that "goal" And after constantly letting myself down, it left me with little hope that I can achieve any goals at all. So I followed it down. And I'm still sitting here.

The truth of the matter is, I'm pretty okay with who I am. I'm fine with all my habits, good and bad. I'm fine with the fact that I am figuring me out. I guess it's everyone else worrying that has got me worried. I know that I don't want to be this way forever. And one day, things will work out. And I will wake up pretty happy. So don't send out any sirens in my name. And don't think this was a cry for someone else to do the leg work on my love life. Because it's not that either. I guess I just felt like you deserved an honest answer as to why I have been burying myself for so long. And why I don't (Or never did) have pep in my step. (I think) I'm okay. I may be clinically depressed, but I'm more convinced that I was just born pissed off.

I have never told anybody any of this stuff. But I felt like it should be put out there. For whatever reason.

I guess I wanted to put it in that way for anyone else who may be feeling down on themselves. In their love life, in their faith, in whatever. Trust me, you are not alone. And it's cool to question those parts of yourself. I do it all the time. One day, whenever that is, shit will work out in your favor. Don't be afraid to take the time you need to get yourself in order. I've been doing it for years now. And I still feel like I am at square one.

"I leave the memory up atop the balcony.

I tear this flower from the back of the dress.
It’s best this time, I bet, to just forget and let go.
Paint it the shade of where the lip bleeds and blur it out.
I blur out everything else, just blur out everything else.
And let go, and let go, and let go."

Thoughts On Being Socially Handicapped

If you would have asked me when I was five years old where I would be five years from then, I probably would have said something stupid like like being a professional wrestler, or finally beating Josh at a video game.
If you asked me when I was 18 where I would be in five years, I probably would have said that I would be happily married. I would have served my mission for the LDS church, and I would have a good paying full time job, and I would be driving a Camaro or something.
If only I could show 18 year old me where I am now. He probably wouldn't be all that pleased. And maybe that would have given me the gusto to fix and change things.
If you asked me today where I'll be in five years? Shit. The only thing that comes to mind is; hopefully happy.
I realize that that may sound like a section of self loathing, and maybe it is. But I guess that the bigger portion of that is trying to come to terms with the fact that; I am what I am.
I think that too often people; and more especially young people, are forced into avenues of being who or what they are not. Whether that is by media, or peers, and most popularly significant others.
Media has tricked people into thinking you need to look, and dress in a certain way. There is certain music that you should listen to. There is a certain weight you need to be. And you should be clean shaved. I just feel like that's such bullshit. If we were meant to be uniform, we would all be enrolled in a Charter School. But life is anything but a charter school. If you wanna like rap music, cool. If you wanna wear band t-shirts and shorts year round, join the club homie. There is no cut and paste of what you should look like and wear. And if you think I'm wrong, please email your complaints to the following address where they will be seriously considered by yours truly:
idontgiveashitaboutyouropinion@yourmomshotmail.com

I guess I hold such issue with changing who you are to please a significant other. That shit is so lame. If you are dating someone who expects you to change who you are for them, you should do the world a favor and murder that person. Because there's a serious chance that that is the Anti-Christ. As I have grown up (Please stifle your laughter.) I have come to realize that there are too many people in the world and too many personalities that differ to think that you need to be a certain way for someone. The only thing you should be is your best self. And if someone doesn't like who you are, then kick their ass out. I guess I have just heard people faulting others for things that don't make sense.
The thing that tops my list in that regard is telling someone they care too much. I guess this could be altered into saying "clingy" and saying that that is an issue. Are you hearing yourself talk? This person is so wild about you, and cares so much, and are willing to show that. And you think that's annoying? If anybody gets bothered by this, I hope they die old and alone. I get faulted for caring too much all the time. And truthfully, I don't give a shit anymore. If someone doesn't like that I am willing to put everything on the line for a relationship, they can pound salt.
I guess the point I am trying to make is; be who you are. There are too many people in the world and too many pretty/handsome faces that have a chance of working out, to believe that you have lost it all because one relationship didn't work out.
I am just a firm believer that everyone should be okay with who they are. More than that, they should be proud of that. You should never have to hide or alter things to appease certain crowds/opposite sexes. Sure, you may have to shower and watch your language. But that doesn't mean you need to change who you are.
I'm Jake Bleazard. I have an odd obsession with music and I hate when bands I like get too much publicity. I would rather listen to music on my own than do most things. I am a social caterpillar and I have a hard time meeting new people. I tend to binge watch TV shows when I have time off. I wear every emotion I have on my sleeve. There has never been a middle ground for me; life is black and white. I love my best friend Kasey more than I love almost anyone. I love my tight knit group of friends. I love my mom and dad. I have the tendency to get attached to things/people very fast. When I date girls, I tend to string myself out. I LOVE sleep. I'm foul mouthed. I think this blog is stupid, but it keeps my brain in my head.
You get the idea. These are things about me (The list goes on, too. kinda.) that I am not gonna alter for anyone. And if someone doesn't like that, I got two words for you:

*Whispers* Suck It.

"Trying to think of who could make a better me than me
Maybe I'll shoot him an email
Maybe he'll give it a go
Then I'll be free to just evaporate, disperse, or implode"
-Modern  Baseball

Let me guess, you want adventure in your life?

So let me guess, you're a young possibly college aged student, and you want nothing more than to go on "adventures"?

You are never content where you are, and you are always hungry for "adventure"?

How original! You know, I am considered similar in age to you "Adventure" fiends, and in all my years I have NEVER heard of ANYONE who likes to go on "adventures", you my coffee loving, Ugg boots wearing, yoga pants advocating friend are the very first!

Sarcasm.

Let me start by saying that I am willing to wager that you may crave adventure, but you have never once tasted adventure. I hate to be petty, but you need to really reconsider the use of that word to avoid making you look like an idiot.

I looked up the definition of adventure just to make sure I was not blowing smoke up your ass by accusing you of being dim witted. 

Adventure: engage in hazardous and exciting activity, especially the exploration of unknown territory.

Christopher Columbus was an adventurer. He sailed to a land previously undiscovered by the Europeans, and thought he wound up in India. 

Steve Irwin was an adventurer. He would wrangle poisonous and life threatening animals on TV. In shorts.

Lewis and Clark were adventurers. 

The pilgrims were adventurers.

Moses was an adventurer.

You get the point. I guess what I am getting at is, if you can honestly say the menial activities you consider adventures to be on the same plane as these people, then you are thick. Driving a car on roads that someone else made, to go hike on trails that someone else paved can hardly be considered and adventure at all. It could be considered driving. It could also be considered hiking. 

So if you use the term "adventure" and you are not catching life threatening animals, or braving new territory, I hope you get stabbed in the heart by a sting ray.

I think that it is very self centered and ungrateful to say that you hate being home. I am in no way throwing a pity party right now, but I want to use myself as an example. I don't have a home. The house(s) I grew up in are now being occupied by other families. The room(s) I for so long called my own, now have someone else's crap all over their walls. My parents built a new house a couple of years ago. I am happy for them, but that isn't my home. I am very happy where I am living right now. And I am happy to have a place to sleep and hang up all my stupid band posters. But this isn't home in the true sense of the word. I don't have anywhere to go to call home. And I hear all the time "The last place I wanna be is home" You say that shit like you know. I sure wish my dad would fork over his credit card so I could go on frivolous adventures, and tell everyone how much I hate my own bed. I actually don't wish that at all. But I do wish I had the opportunity to have a home to hate. you ungrateful bastards.

"Be grateful for what you've got. Well, I'm not." -Tiny Moving Parts

Jobs

I've been thinking a lot about work recently. Not only because that is all that my life has become; but also because it's a stupid concept. I was at my barber the other day and he was talking to me about cutting a hole in his house to make a dog door. My first thought was just to leave the damn dog outside where it belongs. But, that's not really important. So we talked for a bit and then said that he would be able to do a trade for my services if I were to come do the work of cutting a hole in his house to accommodate a wild animal. He mentioned that he could get me credit to go get a tattoo. Which was weird. I don't even have a tattoo, much less a visible one. So what on earth would I do with tattoo credit? Sell it? I don't know man. Maybe just give me money or a giant tub of some hair jelly. And I don't want Fop, gosh dammit.
That just got my wheels turning about how nice it would be to trade services for goods as opposed to paper money. Perhaps the big beard I am currently nurturing is altering my brain waves, and I am thinking too much like a mountain man. But wouldn't that be awesome?
"Hey Terrance, the shitter is full. I'll give you a sack of potatoes to come help me out."
"... Alright man. Feed me lunch too?"
"Deal."
I think that would just be an excellent way to get things in order, and also weed out worthless people. The only way you would survive is to be able to do something. So the people that are currently using food stamps to buy candy and chocolate milk, would have to start eating each other. And the people that just stay in their moms basement and do nothing actually have to go learn how to be useful in life. No more government feeding the worthless. The only way to survive is by a trade. Sounds too good to be true. America.
I guess it's just an odd concept; a job. I do this one thing to get this paper that helps me get bread that someone else earned similar paper to make and bag for me. Then later We are gonna go pay someone to pull down a lever to squirt some frozen chocolate milk into a cone that someone else got paid to make, then we are gonna eat it. And that is what our lives are. It's no longer about living and surviving. It's about paying your bills and trying to keep good credit so you can buy more shit you don't need. I feel like one day all that will collapse on us. And we will actually have to go back to trading meat for bread. And like buying wives and stuff. That will be awesome. Especially the wives part. Cause I know a lot of really ugly dudes (Yeah, me included, thanks for forcing it out of me) that have super excellent life skills and could trade like 40 chickens that he raised for a supermodel of a wife. Whereas right now he has no game and just drinks himself to sleep in his lonely bed. Cause girls these days are seriously awful.
I was gonna go off on a tangent about the girls thing, but I'll spare you. Just know. (Also it's not just girls, its everyone. But mostly girls)
What brought me to think about all this was being stopped by a train this morning. Which totally blows. I think it would be awesome to be a train driver. Not like the trax that runs from South Jordan to SLC, I'm talking like the Union Pacific. I wanna stop cars for a solid ten minutes and totally ruin every one's day. I don't think anything could make me happier than knowing every single place I go, and all the cars I stop, I have ruined some one's day. Maybe like having someone actually have a baby in their brand new BMW because my train stopped them. That would be awesome. Like the wife is just freaking out, and then the baby just comes piling out on the new carpet, in all it's gooey bloody glory. And I wave my engineer hat in the air and shout "Congratulations!" Through my mustache as I drive past, laughing.
I'm living proof that your dream job can be anything. And if you knock someone for their dream job, you're the idiot. I think too often everyone is trying to climb to the top of the ladder without getting all the rungs along the way. Sometimes you have to work shitty jobs and be patient in order to get to where you wanna be. So stop making fun of the kid with the lazy eye working at Goodwill. Home boy has dreams too. Just making ends meet for now.

Looking Back (Grimacing)

I think one of the weirdest parts about growing up is looking back on your life and realizing some of the shit that you did and said and going "Dammit, Jake." I guess perhaps that is the biggest part of growing up; growing up. But even so, I still look back on myself and shudder, and that's not even counting the times in my life where I ran my little brother into a snow bank while pulling him on a sled behind a four wheeler. Or even the time that I found all our Easter presents in the motor home and spoiling the Easter for the rest of my siblings. (sorry to anyone who still believes in the Easter bunny) But I am even embarrassed about the things that I did and said only a year ago. Some of it I wish I could take back, others I am embarrassed about, but am glad I said. 

Going even further into that, I have some memories that haunt me. When I was in middle school there was a boy named Travis. He lived around the corner from me, and we were sort of friends. We would talk when we saw each other, but I never went into his house, and he never went into mine kind of thing. The thing I remember most about Travis is that he was fatter than I was. I had been made fun of since I was in 3rd grade for being portly. So when someone was fatter than I was, I was always quick to jump on that and call them fat turds. So when I was in 8th grade I believe it was, Travis and his family were moving to Spanish Fork, and I would never see him again. In my yearbook, I shit you not, He wrote the following message "Jake- I am moving to Spanish Fork so you can't call me fat anymore. -Travis" Back then I sort of laughed it off, but now I look back and that is so horrible. 

When I was in high school I thought a lot of myself. Not in the sense that I was the most handsome or the most athletic, but I kinda figured I was invincible. I had started varsity offensive line since I was a sophomore and was also a renowned heavyweight wrestler in the state. So I figured if anyone had anything to say they could settle it up with me. So I sort of did and said what I wanted with little repercussion. Some of it was due to the fact that I was the chief, the other was that I thought it was funny. In fact, I never really did anything with malicious intent. I just did things I thought were funny and would make people laugh, often without thinking on how that would make the other person feel. Anyway, one day our back up qb came slumping around and I don't remember exactly how it happened, but I gave him the nickname "Ugly" Not like "Hey, you're ugly." I would say "Hey Ugly, grab those cones." And he would actually respond to me. Rather than punch me in the face. I don't know if you're reading this KB, but if you are just know that I am sincerely sorry. That was a really dick thing to do. 

One last one. I was living in Draper and pretty much my only friend was my brother Josh, and the Rogers kids that lived up the street. But I made this friend at school named Gordon. We would always write each other notes during class and I'll never forget that one day Gordon wrote me a note that read, no shit, "When Miss Schleuter bends over you can see her bubes!" it was weird. Anyway, one day we were out on the play ground and I was hanging out with this kid named Bryce, who was an asshole. I don't know why I was hanging out with him because one day Bryce and I got into a fist fight over this girl named Samantha Paskins. So we were hanging out and Bryce started making fun of Gordon who was playing Pokemon cards, if I'm not mistaken. Anyway, in that brat pack group I was with one of them said "I bet you have a huge dick Gordon!" and we all jumped on that train. Making fun of Gordon out of belief that he had a large dick. Apparently that is the worst thing you can have as a third grader. I am a traitor and also an idiot.

I guess the reason this all comes to mind is basically centered around a couple of ideas. I am getting older and the thought of dating, marrying and having kids is becoming more real and less like an idea. And as I think about having kids, I think on all these horrifying experiences. I don't want to have kids if they're going to be like me. I ruined a lot of Christmases (Sorry mom and dad) I guess I am just worried that my son is going to come home beaten down because a group of kids claimed he has a big dick. What a sicko.

Dear Sports Fans:

In light of the recent events of the San Antonio Spurs winning the NBA championship, and the LA Kings winning the Stanley Cup, I have had a few things that I feel I need to share.

Firstly; There is no such thing as a Miami Heat fan that exists in Utah before the year 2010. In fact, there is no such thing as a Miami Heat fan at all in Utah. The only people that claim to be a Heat fan are people that are assholes. There is no possible way that you randomly decided to be a Heat fan in elementary school. Everyone that grew up in the 90's in Utah grew up watching John Stockton and Karl Malone on the Utah Jazz. And that was your team. The other option would be is that you're one of those kids that was a Chicago Bulls fan because you're "that guy." The only reason you would be a Heat fan is because you like teams that win and you are an asshole. So, for every person that buys a Heat jersey in Utah there is a pregnant mother somewhere that is smoking a cigarette. Think about that when you're cheering for LeBron and the Heat this far west.

Also, if you say that you're not a fan of the Heat but you're a fan of Lebron, shut up. We know what you mean. Ship jumper.

Second: If you're an LA Kings fan, please find your swift exit into hell.

Third; this isn't a statement, but a question. Why are there so many Red Sox fans in Utah? I have tried to figure it out forever but can't come up with it. I see more Red Sox garb cluttering cars in Utah than any other team. More than Broncos, Rockies, anything. It's weird. If that's your team, then that's fine. I don't care, as long as you've been a fan since before 2004 or whatever. More than that, before October 2013. But honestly, is there some tie to a player from Utah going there similar to Steve Young and the Niners? I just think it's odd that you chose the furthest possible located team from Utah as you can get. Whatever the reason is, I just would like to make the connection.

Go Giants.

I'm A Bad Person

I feel like I have almost covered everything that bothers me in the world. I am at a point where I will get an idea to sit down and write a comical story on, and I will realize that it loosely relates to something I have written prior. Which sucks, and is also pathetic. After two years of dick and fart jokes that got panned out into sentences and paragraphs, I have come up short. I sat down just now and wrote three paragraphs on farts. No shit. (Pun halfway intended.) But I sat down and began by talking about how if you can't fart in front of your significant other, there is no way you are prepared to marry this person. And that lead me to talk about things like shitting with the door open, and walking around naked sort of stuff. Stuff that is really only funny in context, or in person. But that didn't stop me from paraphrasing! ZING.
I have been thinking a lot about the subject of picking up women. I am trying to keep this a little more candid and playful than cynical. But, whatever. I think moving from the place I have always been to somewhere where there are people everywhere, has made me realize that I am awful in social situations. To rightfully express this statement, I am going to provide examples of such.
I was DD'ing for my friends. (salute me if I've told you this story) We were at this terrible bar in downtown SLC, and I was sitting at the bar watching Sportscenter. They had highlights of March Madness going on, and I was pretending to be enthralled so I didn't have to talk to anyone. (yeah, I know) I was pulling on my Coke Zero when some woman comes up and places herself on the bar stool next to me. This bar was loud as hell, and to talk to anyone you had to lean in in order to ensure that their words didn't get mixed into the deafening music or the sound of girls laughing way too loud. So, she asked what I was watching. (Granted, all the TV's were on Sportscenter, so this was a very simple person question to be asking.) I replied "basketball" She laughed and went on to say that she didn't know anything about basketball, and all the while I couldn't stop staring at her driving gloves that she was wearing. Leather gloves. Inside. I think she was wearing a wolverine shirt too, which can be good. But can be bad. Idk. I was gonna check to see if she was wearing a false tail, but I forgot. She just seemed like the kind of person that would be wearing one of those. Idk why I got that feeling, but I did. Anyway She starts yacking about how she loves wrestling. And of course, I tune back into this conversation that has been going on for idk how long. She says "Not like college wrestling. But like professional wrestling. Like The Hardy Brothers, and Vader and all those guys! Gah I wish they still wrestled."
First of all, I admire the fact that she picked the most obscure sport (Besides maybe hockey or golf) (But I know quite a bit about hockey too so w/e) to yack to boys about. Because 19 times out of 20 normal middle aged men don't watch wrestling. Second, if you're going to lie about watching wrestling, you should at least get your facts straight.
I looked at her and said "Jeff Hardy still wrestles in TNA." I then turned back to sportscenter taking a victory gulp of my coke. She replied "Oh..." Then turned and disappeared. Her fake tail dangling, defeated behind her.
Now here is my issue with this story. Did I have to be a dick? Nah. Did I want to talk to a person about wrestling who clearly doesn't watch wrestling? Nah. Could I have brought up a different subject to get to know this person, rather than just being annoyed with her fake wrestling story? Probably. But Nah.
I was at seven eleven yesterday and I was wearing the exact same outfit as my buddy who I live with. That's not really important, but it's part of the story so why leave it out? So I was murdering my nachos in chili and cheese and pouring coke down my fat throat like it was going out of business. And as I turned back to throw some things in the trash, there was a person standing in front of the garbage can. She was a lot shorter than me. She was wearing this strange pink halter top, and cut off shorts. She had tattoos on the back of her hands, and also in other places I noticed, but tried not to notice, that were fading. Which lead me to believe that they were done in prison. She had a lot of ear piercings as well. She was staring at me. Which I have actually become accustomed to, mainly because I am a lot larger than people, and I have been officially growing my beard for over 7 months. So It was like; whatever. She then asked "Have you tried this yet?" And I didn't know what the hell she was talking about. Then I noticed that 7-11 had tapped a new flavor of Mtn. Dew, I don't know what it is, but it's orange colored. I think it has something to do with tropical punch. I said "Oh, the new Mtn, Dew? I haven't, is it good?" She then fully extends her arm, pushing the straw extending from her beverage into my big dumb face, wanting me to take a couple of slugs out of her drink. I wasn't sure what to do because the only person who has ever offered me to drink out of their drink is nobody. So I said "nope." Then turned and walked away.
Did I have to be impolite? Nah. Did I panic? Yes. Do I want Mono and or Hep C by sharing straws with this person that has homemade tattoos and scares me? Kinda.
I just think that with the invention of social media has mortally effed relationships. You have to text a girl every three days or whatever. And Snapchap and all this stuff. And if she likes your shit on Facebook or Instagram and whatever else the hell there is. It's all such a mind rape. Why can't you walk up to someone and show them your Tamagatchi and ask for their house phone number anymore? I feel like I would much rather take the risk of calling someones house and talking to their parents, rather than the feeling of texting someone twice in a row. Or having them not reply to your text but is tweeting or whatever. If I could change one thing, It would be that everyone could be more straightforward with each other and say that you think they're pretty. And you would like to be seen with them. So you should go mini golfing and then throw rocks at trains later. Idk. Granted, I haven't talked to one stranger that I think is nice to look at since... ever. So I should practice what I preach. But hell, I'll make it a goal. I won't report back or anything. Cause I don't owe you anything.

Also, like this or give me a shout if you think I should stop being a lazy ass and finish the book I started, and you would read it. All of it. And then leave a comment on this blog stating your favorite item at Chuck A Rama if you think I should post the first chapter.

I'm listening to Taylor Swift. Idk why I told you that. But I just thought you should know.

The Legend Of The Great White Buffalo

Have you ever wanted something so bad that it sort of... consumes you? I don't mean like it actually digests you, I'm talking about you consume yourself in it. Think about it, dream about it, talk about it, all of that. I have had a lot of that; especially recently. Some days I think about it non-stop, even when I am busy and doing things. I'm not talking about a person, if that's what you're thinking. I'm talking mainly about sleep. Also food.
I understand the concept of getting consumed in things; more-especially people. Sometimes things don't work out the way you wanted them to. Sometimes you push for things that probably won't work out, and the other person allows it out of either selfishness or lack of confidence to tell you so. So, you work and work and work, continually dumping coins into a wishing well; always hoping, vain hope. Then, when things disintegrate, you do too. And that person, or action, or lack of either swallows you whole. I totally get that.
In perhaps maybe a less intelligent world of males, we call this the Great White Buffalo. As it was explained to me, a GWB is the one thing that got away from you. Maybe something you never got closure on. Maybe someone gave you an opening and you missed the mark. Maybe something ended in a flash and you we're prepared for it. In any case, your GWB was the one that got away. The huge buffalo that is taunting you on the horizon of tomorrow, always out of reach.
I have a few GWB stories, in fact, I think everyone does. I have a few examples of GWB's, from real life people, which will remain anonymous. All the names have been changed to protect the identities of those involved; you know who you are. Consider this an unofficial shout out from the King. (If your story is inaccurate, I'm sorry. It's been a while since we have talked about it.)
The first is perhaps my favorite story in existence.
So, Louis was always good at math. When signing up for classes, he noticed a beautiful young girl also signing up for a more advanced math. He walked over and signed up for the same math class. He never really had the courage to address her in class, and they never talked. All year.
Fast forward two years. His senior year he walks in to his assigned math class and who is there? The Great White Buffalo herself. He decided that he would actually make an effort to talk to her and get to know her. So, he did that. They became fairly familiar with one another. Eventually graduation day rolls around. Louis is having a party at his grandparents cabin that night in celebration. He decides to invite the girl he has been dreaming of for so long now. She agrees. We will fast forward slightly through everyone at the party getting intoxicated outside of Louis and this girl. The night wages on, and the sun is about to come up. They decide they want to watch the sunrise together, outside. So, there under a blanket, wrapped in each others arms is the best love story to ever unfold. However, Louis is having a complex the entire time of when to kiss this girl. He was well aware that timing needs to be better than perfect. So, he decides he wants to kiss her out there on the deck, watching the sunrise. Conditions were perfect. But when? So, after a few hours of being out on the deck, the GWB decides she wants to go inside. So, as they approach the door, he gives her a peck on the cheek. She slows her walk to a stop, but continues inside. He kicks himself in the ass all night wondering what went wrong. A feeling we are all familiar with.
Fast forward through a few dates. They decide to get breakfast one morning after several failed attempts to kiss her further. She was leaving on a trip, or something and this would be their last encounter for a time. Louis decides that conditions are perfect. So, after some pancakes he walks her to her car. They hug. As he leans in to kiss her, she stone walls him.
So, he goes home empty handed. After some thought he decides to text her and ask why she won't kiss him. Her response was: "I wanted you to kiss me that night at the cabin."
"I tried; I kissed you on the cheek when we were walking inside." Says he.
"Oh, I thought you ran into me." Was her final response.
I wish I could, but I can't make that shit up. True story, top to bottom.
The other one, is a little less comedic, and a bit more sad/stupid.
So, Gerald's grandma hooks him up with a cute nurse. She gives her his number, and they begin the early/worst stages of dating. They talked a lot. It seemed like every waking hour they were texting. Texting eventually lead to phone calls. Phone calls lead to face times. Face Times then lead to a couple of dates. Even though things weren't taking a turn for the serious, they were getting along peachy. Plus, Gerald couldn't quite commit, he was still hung up on his last mistake of a girlfriend.
This girl decides she wants to go on an LDS mission. So, she goes through all the stages of that, and they continue to talk.
She leaves on her mission, and he continues to write her. Fairly religiously if I am not mistaken. So, she is about ready to return from her mission and he gets an email that says the following:
"I have been hesitant to write you this. But I have to ask you to stop writing me. I have a serious boyfriend and I don't feel right still receiving emails from you. Thank you for all your support."
And that was it. That was everything. Even after toeing the line between friendship and being in a horribly serious relationship for almost 2 years. I guess she picked up a Chilean escort of some type on her mission. Who gives a shit about the rules anyway, Eh?
Stupidity is not gender specific; but damn girls can be dumb.
I was going to tell my friend Sam Bishop's GWB story, but it's rendered useless since he married his GWB. You dog. Still much love for you, my man.
Oh, you want to know my GWB story? Shit. That's the story of my life. Always chasing my tail, and running around in circles. Always wanting what I can't have, and what I know I will regret. I have a plenty of stories to tell about those things I wish I didn't do. Things I wish I would've gotten. Things that blew up in my face, and plenty of missed opportunities. I could talk all day about that. But hell, I wouldn't want to spoil the ending.

Life Is Getting Stranger.

It's been a weird day. I remember when I was a kid my mom would yell at me for wiping my dirty Cheetos fingers on my clothes. I was like "Well! Where else am I supposed to wipe them?" She suggested a paper towel or washing my hands, but that was ludicrous. So, I guess in some form of subconscious I started a habit of wiping my hands on my shirt/shorts. I still do it all the time. I actually have fiscal evidence of such a thing. I was doing my laundry just now, and noticed that a pair of shorts have horrible Cheetos stains. Right above my right pocket, where I always wipe my hands. Consequently, these are my favorite shorts and they wont be disposed of because of a stain. I just thought it was ironic that of all the grease, pizza, and other food-like substances I wipe on my shorts, the one thing I got in trouble for was the one that bit me in the ass. Thanks for nothing Jalapeno Cheddar Cheetos.
When I was a kid my mom used to hide all the good treats on a shelf that I was unable to reach (Theoretically speaking. I could get to them with the assistance of Josh or a chair.) It was always frustrating to me. I mean, I can understand now that I would dive into a box of Costco muffins and have them cleaned out before anybody knew they were there. But at the time, I just didn't get it. Today I did some grocery shopping, which is a laughable experience in itself. But I decided that I wanted Gushers, and since I am 23 now and can do whatever I want, I am buying some Gushers. I made my purchase and wasn't even to my car before I had the box open and was eating the first package. And in the 20 minute drive to my house, I consumed two more packages. I think my issue with inhaling Gushers is that they all stick together. You can't eat Gushers one at a time. You just have to eat it whole. There is no other choice. So, I do. When I got home, I thought about putting it on a top shelf where I can't reach it. Unfortunately, I am 6 foot 2 and I can reach anywhere in this house. So, I ate another pack and put them in the pantry. They'll be gone before midnight.
I used to make up excuses to not go to bed when I was a kid. I remember saying things like "Mom! we forgot to comb my hair! I can't go to bed yet!" or "I forgot to brush ALL of my teeth." I think I was fascinated with whatever happened after I was asleep. Maybe my parents turned into Terminator and went and fought crime. Maybe they went to Morpheus' lair and went into the Matrix. I don't know. I wish I knew. Now that I am older, I look for excuses to go to bed. "Sorry man, I gotta go. My grandma's bunions don't rub themselves." or "Oh! I would love to, unfortunately I can't. I have this group that goes and kicks all the hobos out of the park, I can't miss it." When in reality, I am just going home to go to bed. I don't function well when I am tired. Sorry about it. I think my mom drilled into my brain that nothing good happens after midnight, so be home at midnight for curfew. Which is entirely true. All of the stupidest decisions I've ever made have been made after midnight. So, once that time rolls around I know its just time to be in bed. Prison one time was enough for me.
In retrospect to all these things, maybe my mom was right about most things. Now that I am older, I guess I can see more of that. If you'll excuse me, I know where I hid the Gushers. I am gonna go eat a few.

Bucket List, Smhucket List.

I was doing my regular shift today, and was working in units around the painters. My prior interactions with said painters has been far from pleasant. On one occasion I heard one young guy tell his comrade that he drank too much and wet the bed, in his girlfriends bed. The other is with this guy i fondly refer to as the "Garbage pail kid", we were outside and he started conversing with me, and at one point he offered me one of his very cheap cigarettes. I have been working around the garbage pail kid for several weeks now. I know that his name is Travis, he has told me on several occasions. But, to let him know that wee aren't friends, I constantly call him by the wrong name. Today we were working and he relayed a message from the head painter and I replied; "Thanks Stuart." I also almost made myself laugh. This has absolutely nothing to do with this blog, I just thought it was funny.
A few things have brought my thoughts of composing a "Bucket list" Although I consider myself a simple living man and don't have many ambitions outside of a full nights sleep and full meal, I too have things that I would like to do before I die.
I have always thought that bucket lists were grim. I am making a list of things I must do before I die. What if you don't finish the list? You obviously don't get a second shot at it. Do you not get to heaven cause heaven is only for winners? Maybe you'll get reincarnated as a seagull and can travel by your own power to all the places you would like to go. If I got reincarnated as something, I would probably pick a couch throw pillow. Mostly cause you can still watch TV, and be uncomfortable when people try to sit on you.
Well, seeing that heaven is a long shot anyway, I am making my list and holding absolutely nothing back. Because I believe in myself, even though nobody else does. So, I am sharing my list with you to hopefully get you to start thinking about death and stuff and get real with yourself.

-Buy something I don't need that's more than $500
-Write a song that's so awesome Ke$ha, Katy Perry and Kanye West get run out of America and forgotten.
-Beat the shit out of Luke Bryan.
-Get the shit beat out of me by John Travolta
-Star in a film that outdoes Box Office sales for Avatar and Titanic combined.
-Win and Oscar before Leonardo DiCaprio.
-Play a concert at Mile High stadium and sell it out.
-Costar a film with Patrick Swayze.
-Have my life made into a movie with Kevin Bacon from Footloose cast as me.
-Win a boxing match and pull an American flag out and wear it around.
-Chokeslam The Big Show and Kane at the same time.
-Be the Main Event at Wrestlemania and beat Vader.
-Jump through a table from the top ropes.
-Buy a motorcycle.
-Beat Jean Claude Van Dam at a martial arts fight.
-Be on tour with Coheed And Cambria, Between The Buried And Me, Circa Survive, A Lot Like Birds and Kenny Rogers all at the same time. But I am the main event. Tickets will be $250 for nosebleeds.
-Sleep for 24 hours straight.
-Play on the Chicago Bulls with Michael Jordan, Dennis Rodman, and Scotty Pippen and have them all talk about how much better at basketball I am than they are. Then trade to the Jazz and win our trophy's back.
-Hit a walk off win home run at AT&T park and have Buster Posey hug me at home plate then we go get a steak together after the game is over and everyone carries me on their shoulders.
-Buy a house.
-Find a baby bear in the woods and take it home and raise it. He also will maul anyone I don't like.
-Catch a game winning touchdown from Peyton Manning at the Super Bowl or Pro Bowl.
-Do a back flip.
-Be on Cops whether as the predator or the prey, doesn't matter.
-Drive a Maserati and make it go 200 MPH in a 65 MPH zone. Then outrun the cops.
-Bowl a perfect game.
-Be the best guitar player in the world.
-Have someone ask me for my autograph.
-Do a stand up comedy set, and have everyone love it.
-Eat all 6 Costco muffins in one sitting.
-Drive an ambulance for a day.
-Fight someone on top of a train.
-Shoot a bazooka.
-Make a TV show that goes on for 15 seasons.
-Make a clothing line that is awesome.
-Walk the red carpet.
-Be on the cover of GQ for best dressed, but not changing my current dressing habits.
-Solve a case that England has been trying to solve for years, then paint the American flag on Big Ben to announce that America is the best, and I am better than Sherlock Holmes.
-Go to a fancy dinner party in a Broncos/Giants/Mavericks jersey.
-Have a watch that shoots lasers.
-Be an international spy.
-Organize then destroy a drug ring.
-Set a building on fire.
-Have a limb replaced with a robot arm with gun capabilities.
-Fight the dinosaurs at Jurassic Park
-Get married.
-Beat the Man Vs. Food guy in an eating contest.
-Get really buff and have all the girls that turned me down get really jealous.
-Be a war hero.
-Have kids.
-Win the lottery.
-Build my own house.
-Win an award that the whole town is in attendance for my receiving of.
-Cook the best meal in the world.
-Live in the mountains, completely self sustaining for two years.
-Play in the NHL and get into tons of fights.
-Be a voice in a cartoon.
-Be a guest star on Even Stevens.

This list isn't in any particular order. And I know I am missing a few things, but this is the bulk of it. Whether or not I complete this list before I die, I couldn't care less. I would die happy if I died tonight. That's how everyone should live.



P.S. This is the final call for any Valentines that you would like to receive from me. For those wondering, no I have not sent them. Get after it.

storytimewithjake@yahoo.com

P.P.S.S. Jon P told me to give him a shout out, so if you read this text me and let me know you got my shout out. If I don't hear from you, I will throw a brick through your window.

I'll Be Your Valentine.

I think a majority of social media posts at this time of the year are very clever and lonely people bitching about being lonely. I have seen far too many posts about people having dates with themselves and being alone on V-day. While, I am absolutely no stranger to being alone on Valentines, I also think it's horribly obnoxious that people deem it necessary to post stuff like this. THERE ARE TONS OF PEOPLE ALONE ON VALENTINES DAY. 

Look, Valentines day sucks for everyone. Well, I should just say men. See, if men are in a relationship (or just dating someone) It's implied that you have to pull out all the stops on Valentines. Dinner, movie, flowers, chocolates, and probably other weird stuff I'm not filled in on yet. I also hear a bunch of stuff on the radio (While I am at work, obviously) about buying jewelry and stuff. Like, damn. Sucks to suck.

Plus, if you're a man and alone on Valentines, you're alone on Valentines. While most men wont admit it, most feel some sense of regret/loneliness.

I'm not saying it's different for a woman being alone on Valentines, that's obviously also awful. Because you're alone on Valentines. However, being in a relationship on Valentines and being a woman is obviously awesome. You get treated like royalty. Apparently some guys buy girls jewelry on Valentines. Which would be nice.

So, in my infinite wisdom I have devised a plan to make those who are alone on Valentines feel better. I have created an email address to which you can send me your home address and I will send you a Valentine. Personally written, designed and autographed by me. Which means its entirely meaningless and worthless. But, I felt like it would be a good thing to do for you dweebs. Also, this isn't limited to those who are single. I will send you a valentine whether you are married or widowed or single or bitter and lonely.

I also want to say that these Valentines will be worth receiving. And I am putting a lot of thought into them. Also, I wont divulge any information you submit, and wont send you any chain mail. 

So, I hope to get a lot of replies, and you can send your address and name here (Fake names suggested)

storytimewithjake@yahoo.com

Any Submissions after Valentines will probably still be honored, but more vulgar. So send me stuff before Valentines.

Also, I am going to open up this email to any questions you may have. If you need advice on anything, or whatever. Don't expect quality answers, but I will reply to your questions in a dedicated blog post. So post the name you want me to address you as, or I will make one up for you. I think an advice column by me would be really funny.

Again, sorry for my absence. It's been a wild year, I hope that you'll let me make it up to you by sending you Valentines. You'll be seeing more of me. Unfortunately for you.

I Like The WWE, And That's Okay.

I realize this is a weird way to start a thought. I guess it stems from the fact that I have watched a lot of WWE recently. Not even that I have watched more than normal, I just noticed that I look forward to it weekly, and tend to not miss a week. I know that it's sort of weird that a 22 year old man likes "fake" wrestling. I am in the minority of fans, that's for sure. Me and most 8 year old kids get along because we can sit and talk about CM Punk, Dolph Ziggler, Fandango, and maybe even toss some Booker T in there. (Please reserve your pedophile jokes, you original sonsabitches.) I guess at the end of the day, I don't even give a shit what people think. Maybe it's weird that I like wrestling, but at least I have found something productive to do with a portion of my time and energy. Sorry that I'm not into Jersey Shore, Duck Dynasty, or any other brigade of incredibly mind numbing TV series.

I think that more people should seek after this mindset. I have always had a hard time understanding why people tend to like whatever their friends, or other public figures they idolize like. I guess from one standpoint I can understand that everyone wants to feel accepted somewhere. Whether that's in their school, their home, or on their sports team. Perhaps that requires you to like a certain type of music, or watch a certain TV show that you normally would not. Which, I guess is okay. But if they're really going to accept you, you won't have to change a damn thing. 

I guess I never really had an issue with all of this. When I was in high school, I was always listening to music that was never socially acceptable. I had Chiodos, Underoath, Silverstein, Coheed and Cambria, Circa Survive, and even a little Between The Buried and Me turned up really loud at a young age. Back in the early 2000's that wasn't the coolest thing. Listening to "screamo" music made you look depressed and sort of weird. I remember my mom worried about me, even though I functioned like any normal kid. It was just odd I guess. But, I never really cared. When we ran out for our last home wrestling match my senior year, we ran out to Mothership by Enter Shikari, and I thought people were going to fall out of their chairs. But I thought it was cool, and that was all that mattered. Sort of riding that same wave of wrestling in high school, I always wore a Stone Cold Steve Austin or Batista shirt to warm up in. The rest of Manti's wrestling team was wearing Manti Wrestling attire, then there was me. I don't really know why I felt like this was so awesome back then, but I'm glad I did it now. Cause that's really funny of young Jake. 

Sorry, got a little nostalgic there. I guess what I'm getting at is, it doesn't matter what other people think or what other people are doing. You shouldn't be that concerned with it. Too often I feel like people mold who they are or what they like in order for someone else (It happens all too often with men impressing women) to like or notice them. I guess I've just never had that mindset. If people think it's strange and irrational that I wear shorts all winter, I don't give 2 shits. If people don't like or can't accept me for what I am, they can kiss my giant white ass.

So, I know I have knocked Duck Dynasty and Jersey Shore, but that's because I hate them. And if you like them, okay. I don't care. And neither should you. If you like country music, like country music. If you like Prog metal like me, like prog metal. If you're into some weird anime shit, like weird anime shit. The people who will truly be your lasting friends/relationships will gravitate towards that. They won't care about all the weird shit that you're into, cause chances are, they're into it too. Don't hide who you are. You may never be able to come out from behind the mask. The lasting quote my brother and I use, is this; Don't talk about it, BE about it. ll. So when you're talking with potential friends about how much you love this or that, I hope that you actually are. I'm gonna leave you with one last quote from Frank Reynolds:

"But I love eggs Charlie! And I love crabs. And boiling denim and banging whores! And I don't care if anyone doesn't like that about me, they don't have to stick around."