10 Days Of Dougie – Day 2
Winners & Losers, Weird and We Went To School Together
January 17, 2019
So it’s 1:30 in the morning and I should be in bed, asleep with visions of sugar plums and unicorns running through my head, but considering last night, I was dreaming about dry-cleaning, I’m not very anxious to hit the hay just yet. Does anyone even still go to dry cleaners anymore? I guess the people who have money to throw away and high quality, fancy clothes, they’ll still take them to the cleaners, but as for me, I’m a Wal-Mart and Roses shopper and we do our laundry ourselves around here. And if it’s a it wrinkly, so be it. Hell, old people are wrinkly too and no one cares so why should anyone care if the pants aren’t properly pressed or if the shirt isn’t pristine. It’s clean and not totally falling apart yet so it’s all good. And unless I win a lottery or start embracing my gay gene and dressing a helluva lot better, dry cleaners and I are not going to be interacting all that much.
So why am I dreaming about them? Probably because of the drugs. No, I don’t do drugs or even drink anymore. It’s been over four years since my last “drunk” and even though I have had the occasional shot every now and again, a necessary part of working in a liquor store – one needs to know the product, I can easily pass any drug test or sobriety test. Mental stability test might not go too well, but as Waylon often said, “I’ve always been crazy, but it’s kept me from going insane!”. So what was I saying? Blaming the weird dreams on drugs. I do take medication for my blood pressure, cholesterol and diabetes. So it’s all because of the insulin. That’s why I have weird dreams and my clothes don’t look professional. I think I need a beer.
I actually had something in mind when I started writing these opening paragraphs, but I have no idea what exactly it was going to be right now. I think right now, I’m just rambling to be rambling. I’m just tired… and lonely… and tired of being lonely. I need to find a boyfriend. Or hell, even a girlfriend at this point, just so long as she identifies as a man. Hey, it’s a gay thing, but this is 2019 so anything is possible. So if any guys out there want to talk and maybe go out or whatever, give me a call. I’m loyal, I can cook, I work, I don’t do drugs or drink and I’m simply adorable in my own esteemed fashion. Let’s face it. I’m a freakin’ catch. So guys… call me. And now, let’s move on.
This is Day 2 of the infamous “10 Days Of Dougie” blog series. What I do here is draw pieces of paper with random topics written down on them from what I refer to as the “Magic Bag”. And whatever topics I draw from the bag, that’s what I write about. There’s no chance to prepare in advance. It’s just “here’s the topics… now write!”. It’s a great writing exercise and generally a lot of fun for both the readers and myself because we are doing this together and you’re seeing raw writing and thoughts, uncensored and unafraid, just thrown out there and damn the consequences. Let’s do the bag and find out what’s on the agenda for tonight.
We have: “Winners & Losers”, “Weird” and “We Went To School Together”. And now that we have the topics, let’s get busy and see what we can do. And away we go.
Winners and Losers…
So what is a winner? What is a loser? What does it matter when it’s only what the perception and a label. I’m alive when I probably shouldn’t be. I have a decent job, great friends, a place to live, a car to drive and food to eat. I get to spend a large portion of my time helping others, through my volunteer work and get to do something I love (write) about topics I love (wrestling, comics, music and life). Thus, I am a winner.
But I’m rarely happy or smiling. I spend most of my time alone even when I’m in the company of those who I am closest to. I have issues with anxiety, health problems and the occasional panic attack. I have a hard time trusting others and push people away when they start to get too close. I often behave in odd and quirky manners and have always been unlucky at love. My car is on it’s last legs and I struggle each month to pay my bills. At times, I find myself just not caring and unable to feel or express any kind of emotion or feelings. I’m a zombie and dead inside. Thus, I am a loser.
I am everything I’ve said, both good and bad. I am real and I am fake and I am truth and I am a lie. I am constantly reaching out to others and constantly pushing everyone away just as quickly. And I have no relief, save my writings and the twisted workings of my mind. I am everything and I am nothing. I am a winner. I am a loser. I am me.
And that’s enough on that. As I said earlier, when I start writing on these pieces, I have no idea where it will end up going or what will come out. Some people spend lots of money on therapists and shrinks. I have this fantasy of one day walking into a shrink’s office and pulling an “Arlo” on them. Listen one day to the classic song “Alice’s Restaurant” by Arlo Guthrie to get that reference. I want to start a movement. I want to matter and be important to someone. Just a fantasy and a dream. Yes, I know. Let’s move on.
Weird is something that is not normal, but what is normal? Really, what defines normal? What’s the old cliche’ about what’s normal for the spider is chaos for the fly? What I find relaxing and soothing, others might fear or freak out about. And what they do each and every day, I might find uncomfortable and strange. So weird is just another label and there is no one true meaning to actually say what is and isn’t weird. It’s all about perception. Damn, this is getting weird. So let’s move on to the final topic.
We Went To School Together…
Without fail, at least four or five times a week, I’ll have a customer at work ask me when I graduated, saying that “we went to school together”. And of course, 88% of the time, I have no idea who they are. And then I’ll ask for a name, usually one I don’t recognize and ask them what year they graduated. And while there have been a couple of folks that I did end up realizing that I do know from school, Scotland High Class of 85, the huge majority are generally about ten years or so too young. They know me and know my face, but can’t really remember where from. So they think it’s either school or we worked together somewhere. And then after we talk, we both realize what I knew all along. I don’t know these people. Who the hell are they and why do they keep talking to me?
Actually, I’ll usually play along and be like “yeah, yeah” and just go with the flow to make them happy and so that they’ll move on and finish their transaction and move on. And if they actually do tell me their name, I’ll write it down and then, when I get home and on the computer, I’ll look them up to see it it jars the memory a bit. Most people have a profile on Facebook or else a mugshot at the NCDOC site so I can usually find them. And then I know for sure. We didn’t work together or go to school together. I just have one of those faces, plus I’ve been working with the public since I was 15 years old. People know me from the stores. They think it’s school. Whatever floats their boats works for me.
And I’m ending this here. I’m tired, my eyes are burning, I’m getting a headache and I need to go to bed. So this is the end of this and all for the site at least until I get up in the morning. I asked for questions on my Facebook page and well, y’all awesome Peeps delivered. More with that tomorrow. My thanks for reading. Any comments, thoughts or questions are welcome and appreciated. Until the next time, take care and stay safe. I’m down and gone.