Do I Always Sound Like This?

I hate sending mail, emails, or texts to people. The reason for this is simple — I am able to reread these messages. Often, when I read over my messages, I notice that, not only do I write poorly, but I cannot keep to a serious conversation. My mind is all over the place and half of the things I say do not make any sense at all. I cannot even imagine the impressions my messages give to people. They probably think I am a child that is fascinated by everything in the world and cannot understand how to properly communicate (If anyone else feels this way, I would be interested to know that I am not the only one, so do leave a comment and let me know). Anyways, I thought I would share with everyone some mail I just sent out to a friend that I have not seen in a while. Here it is.

Let me start by saying, I’m sorry I have taken so long to reply to you. Like I said in my email, I have been rather busy. Getting A’s in five classes at community college (which I need to get into a big kid college), although probably even easier than getting A’s in high school, is certainly time consuming. And having a part time job and helping my dad with his accounting has kept me preoccupied. You know that saying that’s used to describe someone running around all the time like they can’t keep up with everything going on around them: “you look like a chicken with its head cut off.” Well, I think I might be a chicken; and although my head does seem to be attached, that does not mean it is completely functional. I think I might have brain issues. Like, my brain does not function as a normal human being’s would. I do not yet know if there is something wrong with the wiring, or if my family has just warped my brain into not understanding reality. But my brain is most definitely dysfunctional. On the bright side, even though my busy schedule has highlighted that I have brain issues, I do enjoy being constantly busy; it is much better than having time to think (about my brain issues).

Brain issues aside, I thought you would be interested to hear how work has been going. Working at Old Navy has been at times fun, or other times boring. It is never difficult or painful, which is about all I could ask for. Basically, I fold clothes more than anything. Actually, it isn’t too far from working at Babies’ R’ Us (where I know you wish I had gotten a job). Old navy’s target audience is 30 year old moms and their young children. About 90 percent of customers are moms with their little toddlers and children, or at least buying for their children. And my manager keeps sticking me in the babies and kids section.  Customers keep asking me questions pertaining to toddlers, like, “what item do you think my five year old daughter would like and fit into?” I am ill equipped to handle these questions, though I try my best to not look like a fool (which is hard considering my face is rather similar to my brother’s). And I cannot explain to you how many sparkles are on young girl’s clothes.  I am afraid I’m going to turn into a fairy princess (I’m not exactly sure how the process works, but I am sure it starts with a lot of sparkles).

Oh, and working there involves a LOT of socializing — even during my breaks, as I must talk to my coworkers. I thought the breaks would be my time to do as I please, but in order to not seem strange (so that I can keep the job beyond the holiday season), I must act like a normal, socialable human being (btw, Microsoft Word says “socialable” is not a word, how lame). Actually, I have apparently been doing well at acting like a normal person. My manager seems to really like me. She saw me undress three mannequins in one day and was quite impressed with my willingness to help customers. To be honest, it mostly just felt awkward. For one of the mannequins whose pants I had just taken off, I needed to have a coworker help me put the clothes back on. Unfortunately, I had to wait for my coworker to help another customer, and I was stuck holding onto a pantless, little boy’s mannequin for much longer than I had intended. Then my coworker and I put on the wrong sized pants and were unable to button and zip them up. We ended up just covering it up with the shirt. Well, I am sure there are more work stories to tell, but for now, this is it. I’ll tell you about school next week. Until then, lates, yo.

Posted in My Friends, My Mind | Tagged , , , , , , | 1 Comment

My Mom (Reason 1)

I can never tell if my mom is serious or joking. She tells jokes more often than any other person I know, but I cannot distinguish it from her being serious — for all I know, she might be telling jokes one hundred percent of the time. Thus, I just assume everything is a joke. Here is an example of a conversation I had with her. (For the sake of not using real names, I will replace my brother’s name with DumDum. In actuality, his name is Justin. On second thought, I do not care about hiding his name, but I will still call him DumDum. Having been around him for my entire life, it seems appropriate.)

Mom: (to me (Cameron)) Hey, DumDum.

Cameron: Mom, I’m Cameron. DumDum is the older, shorter, dumber version of me, AKA my monkey brother.

Mom: Oh, shit, my bad. It gets confusing. I guess I just had too many kids.

(Cameron and his mom stare at each other as they both realize he is the third and final child)

Mom: Oh… Uh… Three too many!

Maybe she thought having me believe she hated all three of her children equally was better than allowing me to realize I am her least favorite. Or maybe it was all a joke. I still have no clue.

Posted in My Family | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

Talking to My Gay Roommate

Once my roommate and I had our conversation about his sexuality, we were then able to communicate about the matter like two adult human beings. My roommate had been so nervous about someone finding out that he was gay, that he became very emotional while talking to me about it. I told him I did not have a problem with him being gay, and I was not going to criticize him for it. Still, he told me that he was about to cry. It was completely alien to me to hear a grown man say he is about to cry. I tried to act as my natural, socially awkward self and responded by saying, “Well, I don’t see how that’s going to help… but if you want to, go ahead. I won’t stop you.” As dumb as what I said was, he realized that it was my typical stupidity speaking, and I was not trying to sugarcoat things by pretending I was used to being around gay men that cry randomly. He then stated that he did not want me to change the way I talk or hide the things I say around him. Just like how I talked about how I thought the crying was strange, he wanted me to be able to speak openly around him, without having to worry about how he would react. And I certainly did.

For a while, he seemed a little hesitant about speaking openly himself, but I refused to allow it. I thought his nervousness about being gay and trying to hide it from everyone was rather annoying. I preferred for him to just be honest about it. One day, when he came home from class, he told me he had bumped into a really attractive person. Then he said, “I was so nervous because this girl was sooo pretty.” I laughed, then said, “You mean, ‘dude’… cause you’re gay. C’mon, man. It is way too late to still be trying to hide it.” As rude as my response may have sounded, and as I had hoped, he was not offended. He was so used to pretending that he was not interested in men, that it had become habitual for him to talk about men while saying, “women.” He was just glad that I was being so straightforward rather than trying to ignore it because it allowed him to finally speak honestly. Over time, the awkwardness left and everything worked out well for the both of us. Well… almost.

There were a couple times when he came into the dorm room looking distressed and emotionally a wreck. The first thing he would say is, “Cameron, I just need to talk to you about feelings and emotions.” Now, I’m sure this is the same for every straight male, but the last thing I want to talk about, especially when talking to another adult male, is feelings and emotions. The only thing I could come up with was, “Are you sure you wouldn’t rather talk about something else, like… I don’t know, gay butt sex. I’d rather talk about gay butt sex than feelings and emotions.” Unfortunately, I did not have the guts to say that to him. Instead I would just stand there blankly until he would say, “You don’t have to respond or anything, I just need to vent.” And he would. I would continue to just stand there… staring at the wall… wondering how this could be happening to me. I would start to think, “He is like a women, except slightly more reasonable in that he at least realizes I shouldn’t have to respond.” But it would eventually end. It was the only time I really did not care to be around him, but since it only happened two or three times, I managed to survive and still enjoy my life. Overall, we made decent roommates.

Posted in My Friends | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Signs You May Have a Gay Roommate

I spent my first year of college attending UC Santa Barbara. During this time, I had two roommates. The first was a Korean guy that would not talk to me no matter how much effort I put into trying to converse with him. Eventually, a friend of mine found out the reason for this. My roommate out-right stated that he “did not know how to talk to white people.” Considering it is not really that different than talking to a person of any other race, I realized that he did not like white people. It is true that I never saw him talking to anyone that was not Asian, so I had to just accept that my roommate was racist. Halfway through the year though, he moved out. I saw this as a blessing. I waited in suspense to find out who my next roommate would be.

When my next roommate introduced himself, I knew I was going to get along with him better than the first roommate (as he did not seem offended by my skin color). However, it did not take long before I noticed he was trying to hide something from me. He had a secret, and he was clearly perturbed by the possibility of me discovering it.

My first hint as to what this secret could be came a couple days after his arrival — I introduced him to some of my friends. These friends would often joke around and act homosexual (They did not really make homosexual jokes or commit the typical act you might consider making fun of homosexuals; instead, they mostly just climbed on top of each other and touched men inappropriately whilst giggling. I personally did not understand how any of it was a joke and struggled to differentiate it from being homosexual). Regardless, ten minutes after my friends met my roommate, they were already explaining to him that, although they act gay quite often, they are not actually into men. Later in the night, once my friends had left, I asked my roommate how he thought that went (I was worried he would be scared of me by now). He said, “Your friends are great!! They seem so awesome!”

Then came the second hint; I had already told my friends that something was off about my roommate, and he might be trying to hide that he is gay. When we came back to my dorm room on a weekend night, we noticed there had been some work done in my bathroom. I went in to investigate and discovered that, attached to my toilet, there was a bidet. In case you do not know what that is, it is something you attach to the toilet that sprays water in places that you might need to have cleaned after using the restroom. Basically, it cleans your butthole. It was hard not to assume anything, but I tried not to jump to any conclusions.

The next day, the third hint followed. I came home to see my friends standing outside my dorm room, waiting for me. They had access to my room and told me they were just in there and had to leave. I asked what had happened. They told me that this was something I should hear for myself. We opened my door and walked inside. Everything seemed normal. The room was fine, and my roommate was in the bathroom taking a shower. Then they told me to listen closer. I waited for a few seconds, wondering what was wrong with them; then I heard two men talking from inside the bathroom. I told my friends, “Maybe they’re just talking in the bathroom, and my roommate turned on the shower because he planned to take one once his friend left.” Then I heard all the grunting and other sounds that proved my statement to be incorrect. One of my friends looked at me and said, “Well, at least we know his butthole is clean. I’m sure his boyfriend appreciates that.” A week after moving in, and my new roommate was already having gay sex in our shower. The next few days were an awkward few. I had to have the “I know you’re gay” conversation with my roommate and had to prove to him that my friends and I really do not mind.

Posted in My Friends | Tagged , , , , , , | Leave a comment

You Thought We Used Buses in India??

I will never understand some of the things my grandma says. She grew up in India where my dad was born. A couple of years ago, my brother and dad  went to India for vacation. My brother brought back pictures and videos. One was a video of the two of them riding an elephant. While showing the video, my brother turned to my grandma and asked, “Grandma, did you ever ride an elephant when you lived in India?” She looked at him like he was saying something ridiculous and said, “Of course I did. What? You don’t think I went to school?”

I just don’t know. Maybe her hearing is just that bad. Maybe she was telling a joke. Or maybe she rode an elephant to school. Everyone in the room was so flabbergasted that no one managed to ask her for clarification.

Posted in My Family | Tagged , , , , | Leave a comment

My Dad is a Two-Year-Old

My dad is the oldest in my immediate family, but he acts like the youngest. He does not know how to clean, cook, or take care of himself. He does not know how to chew with his mouth closed, pick up his own trash, or cover his mouth when he coughs. He just runs around the house rampant, destroying everything in sight. If I find a popsicle stick stuck to the couch or open the fridge to an egg that rolls out and cracks on the floor, I know it is my dad behind this. The few times he has tried to cook, he has melted a plastic plate in the oven, melted a plastic bowl on the stove, and always left a huge mess for someone else to clean up. Worst of all, he is literally incapable of learning and changing, and he can never find the wrong in anything he does. Yet since my parents split while I was still a baby, I have lived with my father.

Because of this, it always amazes me that I am alive. I have always been told that raising a child is incredibly difficult. My dad proves that statement is complete bullshit. If it was difficult, I would be dead. Yes, it sure was costly for him, since he had to have a bigger house, pay for food, and such, but it sure as hell did not take a whole lot of effort.  He taught me nothing beyond to fend for myself. I am still not even sure if I am brushing my teeth correctly. When I see someone brushing their teeth on tv, I stop what I am doing and pay close attention. It always seems different than how I do it, but my imitations never seem adequate, so I just go back to how I taught myself to do it. In retrospect, maybe raising a child correctly (whatever that may be) does take a lot of effort. But keeping a child alive must be ridiculously easy.

Posted in My Family | Tagged , , , , , | Leave a comment

Us Mathematicians

998675_1375290672686337_1367070651_n

I found this on a website full of nerdy jokes. I cannot remember the name of the site, but I felt I had to post this anyways. I used to be Physics major and am now a Math major. I find this to be hilarious, although I am sure there are not a lot of people that this will mean anything to.

Update: The website this image came from is http://xkcd.com/

Thanks to Jessica for pointing this out in her comment.

Posted in Jokes | Tagged , , , | 3 Comments