Chapter one of a work in progress. This is my first attempt at writing.
|I've never been one to believe in the supernatural. I'm the kid who was rolling his eyes while sitting in church with singing, nodding, unquestioning adults. I probably took the news that Santa was fake pretty well compared to the average kid but I don't remember. I'm sure finding presents in my mothers closet helped, but I don't know if that came before or after. I was looking in that closet for a reason after all.
It came as quite a surprise then when I learned that not only was I unusual behaviorally when compared to most people, but that my mind had an extra little section, buried deep in the darkest, most reptile-like section of my anti-social brain. While it remains to be seen if this section has presented me with a gift or a curse, it has at least given me a view of the sides of life that are concealed when your days are focused on the mundaneness of day to day life. I'll get back to that later.
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Taking orders from other people isn't easy for the best of us. Now imagine the agony of it when you are an egomaniac. I really did think my employers were too stupid to speak to me in any manner other than embarrassing adoration or awe. A result of which is that I jumped from job to job several dozen times since escaping high school and charging head first into my early twenties.
Someone told me once that a bull closes his eyes right before he charges, and that is how the bullfighter beats him. I share a certain similarity in nature to that bull. Maybe I should avoid Spaniards.
It is almost a point of pride for the arrogant and stubborn that they can steadfastly remain the same even in the face of a world that resoundingly rejects their uniqueness. So I of course bounced from employer to employer awaiting the day that I would find that one work place that would recognize how special I was and pay me just to be there and do whatever I felt like. Immediate superiors would need to recognize who the true superior was as quickly as possible if a given job had any chance of lasting. I had better things to do than pretend I cared what they said anyway. I was the guy who quit anytime management did something I didn't like. Admired by co-workers for my no bullshit attitude but constantly printing out resumes. It's not easy being great.
How I paid the rent for my shit box apartment month to month is nothing short of a miracle. I don't recall ever feeling particularly pressed for money at any point either, though my standards were low. I knew that I wasn't the greatest employee someone could ask for, but more importantly I knew I was just killing time. Something important was going to happen and my life would change. Everyone would look back one day and try to remember what I was like before I really took off.
After a time though, when drinking away my weekends and sharpening my ability to slack off at work lost their fun, I noticed something disturbing. Years had passed, my friends were mostly married or moved away, and I was still living in my shit box apartment and working the latest nowhere job. The high note was that it was a video store, so free movies after closing time probably slowed the realization that I was spending more and more time alone at home and becoming that guy. The one who still hits the night clubs in his late twenties looking to score with girls who were only adult women in the strictest legal sense and generally not interested in him anyway. The guy who is at every wedding bagging on his friends for settling down but going home alone to play video games and crash on the couch. The guy who spends his days wondering when his personal sexpot was going to fall from the sky and make him a sandwich.
I don't know what exactly I was waiting for. What greatness was waiting just around the corner to jump out and crown me king and savior of my people. So depression was a bit of a surprise, but looking back at my ridiculous expectations I'm sure any psych student could have seen it coming years in advance. I took it like a man though. Shut my self in most nights, drank too much, thought self destructive thoughts, and generally avoided doing anything proactive in regards to my sorry situation. I did however still have free rentals so not all was lost. It got so bad that some nights I didn't even have the will to go on line and lie to theoretical women or belittle Luddites with bad spelling and an unfortunate understanding of computers.
I was leafing through my selection of dates for the evening in the adult section of my store one night, killing time until I closed up and walked back to my apartment, when I caught the smell of smoke on the air. I didn't think that much of it since some street rat lit the garbage bins behind the store on fire twice the week before. It was the heat that made me turn around. Most of the cashier desk was completely in flames before my attention was snapped away from suggestive movie covers. I guess sex really does rank pretty high on the list of needs if the fire had to be close enough for me to feel it before my subconscious bothered to alert me.