Defending My Tweets Vol. 10


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I really wish I could change the name of this to “Discussing my tweets” but I feel as though it’s too late. I’m no longer really defending anything. More just expanding. Whatever it is, it’s a way for me to get a nice rant off/explain myself in detail that 144 characters simply cannot cover. It’s like the emotional equivalent to releasing the top button of your pants after eating way too much food. Gotta let the boy breaaaaaaaaaath.

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I’m not a person who typically remembers my dreams. In fact, for years, I thought I simply didn’t have them cause I’d wake up out of nothingness. The rare occasions I do dream, it’s typically something so real to life that I question if it actually happened. Like “Wait, did I just dream I did my laundry or did that really happen?” *look over at my full hamper* “ah, it was all a dream…”
So, the other day, I woke up to a dream where all that I can clearly recall happening was Miley Cyrus dying. Like i said, my dreams tend to deal in things that do or could happen. While I don’t think Miley is really going down that path (I’d argue she actually does most of her drug talk for show and is actually an incredibly shrewd business woman) it’s also not out of the question. Shit happens. Famous people die all the time. So, like the tweet says, my first thought waking up was “Ughh, twitter is gonna be the worst today”.
Now, I meant this in a few ways. The first being how annoying my timeline would be. Facebook too. Just endless Miley videos. Probably a bunch of her from that “backyard sessions” series she did before she became all edgy where she sings classics and show that she is, in fact, very talented.
Pretty much anytime anything major happens, it envelops all timelines. This could range from something as serious as what’s going on in ferguson right now , to ice bucket challenges to Nicki Minaj dropping a new video. Regardless of what it is, it’s everywhere and you cant avoid it online.
Another reason it would have been a bummer is cause of what I like to call the “Anna Nicole Smith effect”. This is when someone who mass amounts of people shit on publicly dies and , all of sudden, they are an angel. An hour before they died they were a drug addled whore who was a shitty mom but, all of a sudden in passing, all is forgotten. The recoil on Miley’s death would be nauseating. Not just from the normal people…but from the celebrities. People who publicly shit on her would be somewhat forced to at least acknowledge their past statements. You think Lorde wouldn’t write a heartfelt tweet about her? She would.
Basically, the “ughh” I’d be feeling would be both a testament to how full of shit everyone is when it comes to famous people/strangers passing away. It would also be a testament to how social media has made the loss of life so trivial. At least to a prick like me who’s most pure first thought is how his own social media experience is gonna be compromised for a day and not the actual reality that another human being died. So, what I’m saying is , i’m a shitty person. Just do me a favor and forget all about that when my time comes.

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Beach season is coming to an end and I’m good with that. I’m not a beach guy (pools all the way). I’m not really a nature guy, in general. I find my comfort zone atop concrete. That said, over the last year, I’ve felt my stance on this soften a bit. I can’t say I’ve been dying to go to a beach but the idea has made more sense to me lately than it ever had in the past. Maybe it’s me getting older and realizing that “chilling” is an legit activity. But then there’s a problem…people and their fucking cameras.

One of the best parts of beach season, for men who are creeps, is the endless flow of bathing suit pictures that pop up on instagram and facebook. Hey, you know those girls who you’ve never gotten to see naked but always wanted to? Well, here they are…basically naked. For me, that is the upside. The downside of this would be if the camera’s got turned on me. If/when i go to any sort of place where swimming occurs, I have to establish a “no camera” rule. I’m simply not ready for prime time. My skin a shade darker than a piece of paper and , while I’m not a fat person, I’m also not exactly buff. I’m basically as pale and average as can be. The problem is that I’m also vein enough to not want that blasted over every social network I’m on. I feel as though people can’t wait to get pics of other people looking slovenly and upload them on facebook as soon as humanly possible. I don’t play that shit. I will not be your mark. You can say it’s all in good fun and “Who cares?” but I know this game too well. You come home from a trip to a place where swimming occurs and there are like 30 pictures of you tagged on facebook looking like a slightly hairier version of a white whale.
I realize that we live our life through our phones now. People go to shows and watch them through their phones. Facetime pops up out of nowhere and , all of a sudden, we’re video chatting instead of just talking. My nose is just as buried in my phone as anyone else’s. But, sometimes, we need to take a break. I’d say we should do that to just chill and enjoy life but, really, I just need you to put that fucking camera away while I float around this pool like an overfed manatee. Okay? Great.

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The transition from boyhood to manhood is a beautiful and complicated thing. Less beautiful and complicated is the transition from Manhood into “misterhood” or “sirhood”. This is when young people no longer recognize you as an equal and simply see you as an adult. I’d imagine to some, this feels great. There’s a certain respect one garners by being the older, wiser person. However,if your mind is still like that of a 25 year old, then it’s a bit of a blow to your soul.
I play basketball at the YMCA near my house. It’s full of all sorts of people. Old, young, my age. The majority are usually teenaged boys AKA the dumbest human beings on earth. It’s really a daily glimpse into our future every time I play and, let me tell you, things are not looking good. Gone are the days of children who respected (and feared) their elders. Now we got 8 year old kids ready to fire off a “go fuck yourself!” to a full grown man without hesitation. When i was a kid, that would result in a grown man putting his hands on a child in some fashion and everyone around would be like “Well, he’s gotta learn sometime”. But, obviously, no ones trying to catch a case over some 8 year old at the YMCA so those days are long gone. My point is, these kids are fearless and have no respect for anyone. So, as an older guy, this can be frustrating. Like I said, I still feel 25 year old in my mind. I’m up on new shit. I’m aware of what’s going on. I know what the “Shmurda dance” is, guys! But it’s a sobering reality check for guys like me when an 18 year old kid calls you “mister” or “sir”. Like “Hey, mister, can we use your ball?”. It feels like tiny dagger in my heart that, with each stab, ages me at an accelerated rate. It’s a sign of you no longer being on the level. And it’s not even these kids doing it on purpose. It’s actually them being respectful for once in their lives. They’re talking to you like the adult that you are. The separation of generations is never as clear to me when that happens. I might as well buy some dockers, have 4 kids, speak in detail of 401k’s and start wearing flip flops everywhere cause that’s my reality. At least in the eyes of teenagers everywhere. *sigh*
I’m still a “dude”, “bro” or “son” in my heart though.

8 thoughts on “Defending My Tweets Vol. 10

  1. The female equivalent of that is “miss” vs “ma’am” and it can definitely make or break a day. Or anytime someone tells their children “let that lady through” ughhh thanks for being mindful and polite in a way that destroys me inside.

  2. Damn. If you consider yourself that pale, then maybe I need to re-consider myself. Maybe I’m “PALE-pale” and not just “pale” afterall. (judging by your pictures I’m definite paler than you)

      • I feel you on not wanting beach/pool pics taken. I don’t care at all at all about my body being seen in person in those settings. But pics where my stomach and legs look like they’re quasi-blending in with the sand/concrete background behind me? Nobody needs to see that!

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