Too many choices

We as Americans have way too many choices. With each choice comes another way to screw something up. Every time we go out to eat, buy a car, paint a house, and buy clothes we are bombarded with options that really don't matter. Do you think when we were huddled around a fire in the night trying to last until morning inside some cave somewhere, we worried about our Mastodon was cooked? When we were outside on the hunt for a new community, that we for one second concerned with the approximation of the local mall? As a society we have become too lethargic and needy. With each new credit card company emerging, we take for granted all the things we owe money on. Look through your house and itemize your belongings into two categories: Things I own
Things I owe
I bet the things we own and the things we owe are drastically unbalanced. We continue to try and become the Better Homes and Gardens House of the Month. We strive to look like we just popped out of some magazine into a world built just for us. The time for a change in everything that we concern ourselves with is coming with or without us. The result of choices is the current state of the American debt to wealth ratio. We buy shit we don't really need to fill our void of boredom as we await our impending doom. To put it into prospective, we are all for the most part, filling our lives with things to occupy us until we die. The more crap we owe to own in our lives makes us vulnerable to continue to this lifestyle of work and debt. The more you owe, the more you work. To cut down on this problem, we need to find a new past time other than making ourselves the classiest, most beautiful house on the block. We need to look at things that truly make us happy, and cut the fat. The sooner we do this, the less impact of the eventual depression will have on our lifestyle. That being said, look at my new HDTV!

Do you ever get that feeling....

Do you ever get that feeling that the bartender is silently judging you from across the bar? As you sit alone self absorbed in your drink, does the thought ever cross your mind that you are a drunk fish in an alcoholic aquarium? That you are there on display as someone who is often pointed at as an example for other people's children as the example of "What not to do with your life?" As you look back at your life and wonder "Where did it all go wrong? What choice did I make that lead me miles from home selling widgets to businesses for 30 years? Why did my wife leave me? Why am I sitting here hitting on young college girls in here to celebrate some forgetful milestone in their petty lives? When did I get so old and boring that I look at a television with sports highlights and no sound and have to act interested while I sit alone at the end of the bar hoping to strike up a conversation with someone about something I know more about than them? Why is some bartender gonna write a blog about this on the internet that I will never see?"
I see this type of man everyday on my way to a degree in business, slowly making enough money to put myself through school to become one of them. This is the ultimate paradox. I think this blog will be a helpful way for me to vent and retain my current employment as a legal drug dealer. I wonder how many times I have served someone drinks to fuel some kind of alcoholic rage toward a loved one or stepchild when they return home from a hard day at the office? How many times have I seen married men away on business trying to pick up some woman half his age and twice his emotional I.Q.? I watch these people in an island themed restaraunt in the Midwest, and cannot imagine what the attraction to the overpriced food and substandard island drinks is. Then I think about it. These people are holding onto some memory from when they were younger and went on some type of holiday vacation with friends. They are trying to be that young buck that had no money in his pocket and no worries. They want to be a young bartender staring back at the lonely face of some washed up executive wondering what the hell did he do to wind up here in front of me with this "fuck you" look on his face. One had his day, and one has his day to come. We are trying to dance around the issue of when do I get my chance? What will I make of the journey? At what age will I be away from home staring across the bar at some bright eyed kid who thinks he has it all figured out?
And so began my blog.