Crazy pills and Sopranos

***PLEASE BE WARNED***

This may not be your cup of tea. It may or may not include foul language. I haven't decided yet. And it definitely will be a little hard on the parties involved. Because I didn't deserve this, and I feel it's worth getting off my chest. Especially since I was only ever nice. And even more especially because of the hurt I am enduring up until the very moment I write this.

I wanted to let all of you know what happened without having to tell the story five million times. Besides, at this point I don't care who says what, and I know for a fact that she won't read this because she doesn't care enough to. Please read the previous blog before you read this one. It sort of plays into the story line. I'm writing this because I want to put it to bed.

Okay, read it? Great...and let's continue the story.

When she finally did pick up the phone, the lies started flowing. Now, I had watched her lie to her ex and her mother while right in front of me, and I really didn't know what made me think I would be any different. I mean, she was emotionally and verbally abused to a certain extent, so that could have been why. There was one fact that remained, though.

She lied to me. Several times.

Not once did I lie to her about anything. Ever. She told me that someone had changed her Facebook relationship status on her phone the night before. Unfortunately, when I checked it around 5:30 or 5:45 on Sunday afternoon, it said "48 minutes ago." That was lie number one.

I then asked her about the guy that she added within 15 minutes of declaring herself single. She told me that it was just some guy she met in Wilmington. (I know, but trust me when I say it's vital to the story. Because we all live our lives through social networking and the internet now.) So, I get caught in the aftermath of a natural disaster after getting off work, bust my ass to get there, and you didn't pick up the phone because you were meeting the next love of your life. After telling me you loved me for the first time less than a month before that. Wow.

Then I started asking her about things that she had been doing to hurt me. She was so calm and collected, and very, very silent. She wanted a break. So I politely asked her to meet with me on Monday morning before she went to class so that we could talk. That whole conversation was riddled with her turning everything around on me, calling me a "F__ing ___hole" as many times as she could, and saying hurtful things to me while trying to leave several times. I asked her what I had done wrong, and she could never name anything. I started to realize that I hadn't done anything wrong, and that this was her being young and nasty to me so that I would break up with her and she could tell EVERYONE that it was me. Except she forgot that I'm a fighter. So, I'm fighting, and she is lying. Want to know how?

Every single night she got a text message and all of the sudden needed to get off the phone. THAT is what you call suspect behavior.

I asked her, "Do you want to be with me, yes or no?" That was the last thing I ever said to her, because she hung up on me with no warning and not a sound heard for 20 seconds before that, then texted me and told me her daughter was choking and she had to attend to that. Funny how she was outside smoking a cigarette at the time.

After that, I tried calling back a few times, and sent her a few messages. I haven't heard from her since. Now, just to be clear, I'm not accusing her of being a liar in general. She hates that. And up until I found out the real deal, I really did love this girl. Still kinda do, because no matter how had I try, I can't help who I love. First girl that I told her that I loved her in over 5 years. I AM, however, saying that she lied to me. And that's not an accusation, it's a fact. Because when I pop over to Facebook to unfriend her lying, cheating ass, and she has statuses up there about new guys, it's not an accusation. It's a fact. I really hope she had fun on her walk in the park with someone special, and had fun on her trip to Wilmington last night to go see the new guy.

I feel sorry for him, and I'm going to pray for him and her (seperately.) Because she did it to her ex with me and with others, and she did it to me with what I think are a few guys, and she's going to do it again until she gets help and realizes that she's wrong. When people are nice to you and you like them, that's not how you treat them. I made concessions in my life and was willing to fight for her. I even thought about taking a punch in the face so that she could get her son back. You know, North Carolina's grab-and-run law: whoever has the kid is who the kid goes with.

Let me tell you something I wll say time and time again: I am not stupid. I watched you treat your ex the same way, and it made HIM crazy. It took me one day to realize what was going on, and I had to make a decision. This was the decision I made.

I decided to let go. I know through the help of a new, great friend of mine, that I can't do anything to help her. Furthermore, I can't help ANY of these women that so many of my friends know I have been dating for many, many years. It's not my job to fix broken women. Captain Save-A-Ho has left the building, and the cape is being retired. I will not allow myself to be emotionally abused by women who have become abusers after being treated badly. And it's because my heart can't take it anymore. And I mean that figuratively and literally.

Literally, because I went to the doctor yesterday, and even she knew something was wrong. She started asking me questions, and we had a nice, long chat. At the end of which she diagnosed me with General Anxiety Disorder. (Sorta sneaky, that's why I like her.) Basically, I am stressed the eff out to the point where she actually believes THAT is what is causing my high blood pressure, and has been for some time. So, now she wants me to call her once a week and update her off-the-record, and she made me promise to go in whenever she says she feels I need to. And now I have to take anti-anxiety meds. Great. I'm the nice, kind-hearted, gentle one who loves everyone and treats people as nicely as I can, and *I* get the crazy pills. Sheesh. Really? At least I was lucky enough to have a doc who had a degree in Psychology. Thanks again, Big Guns upstairs.

Hi, my name is Vinny, and I'm an official, card-carrying member of the Tony Soprano Anti-Panic-Attack Worrywart Club.

Anyway, moving right along, that's what happened. And I really believe there's alot more to the story that I don't know about, but I'm okay with not knowing. My self-confidence, self-worth, self-esteem, and anything else you can throw "self" in front of is at an all-time low But, the truth is, I'll probably never hear from her again. Except for in a few years, when she'll contact me to do what damn near every other ex of mine has done:

"I'm so sorry that I did what I did to you. I was so messed up and you're such a nice guy, and I can't believe I did some of those things. Can you forgive me?"

Yeah, I forgive you. Because that's how I roll. I can even forget. But how about you do me the favor of not reminding me about yourself again.

Ever.

Especially if you live in Jacksonville and your name is Cortney Blount.

V

SN: Time to start the healing process. Not just from this, but the many years of girls like her doing the same thing to me. If you'd like to help with that, and Lord knows I need it, my number is on my Facebook profile. I could use some words from you, even if you don't think I'd want to hear from you.

The very definition of a bad weekend...

Dear Don't-have-anything-better-to-do,

So, I've had an awful, terrible, disgustingly hurtful, no-good, horrible, very very bad weekend.

It all started on Friday night with the lack of an activity for me to join in. I honestly felt like doing something, and had nothing to do. No one was available, I was bored, and so I decided to spend some time with what has become my best friend lately: the internet. And I fell asleep in front of my computer. Not so bad, except for the massive kink in my neck when I woke up. I'd gladly take the old kink-in-the-neck after everything else that happened.

What really sucks is if I tell you exactly what happened last night, I'll end up a single man. Which, at this point, is almost inevitable anyway, so I may as well tell it.

This weekend is when I discovered that the lady in my life doesn't care about me any more. Now, usually, this is the part where one may turn "playa" and just move on. However, the older I get, the more it breaks my heart each time some other girl decides I'm too fat, or too loud, or too Puerto Rican, or not "hot" enough, or what have you. Whatever I am (or am not) is how I was (or wasn't) when you met me. When you got to know me. And when you all of the sudden started acting different because of things that have absolutely nothing to do with me.

My breaking point happened last night on Level 6 of a parking garage in Wilmington. I cried like a baby. It's just too much. Between the things I deal with concerning family, school, DJing, numerous internal conflicts, and insecurities, adding someone into your life is hard enough. And when you think you've found someone who fits well, everything gets better.

My whole world came crashing down over the course of two hours last night. The entire reason I went to Wilmington was to celebrate a 21st birthday, and to DD for my girlfriend, her best friend, and another person. I was looking forward to spending some time out for several reasons, not the least being that my girlfriend and I haven't been on a real date in quite some time. And we all know that I'm a city boy who loves Wilmington as opposed to Jville.

So, after going to a wedding to learn how the new company I work for wants it done...that was actually fun...I leave and come home to no power due to the storms. So, I get dressed and pack a small bag with one hand; the other was holding a flashlight. It took forever.

I finally get on the road to Wilmington, and get caught for an hour and a half in the traffic that ensued from the aftermath of the tornado that destroyed 25 homes and numerous businesses. (SN: Prayers are offered.) Finally get around it, and get to Wilmington around 12:40. Straightened up the Malibu for passengers, and texted my girlfriend to find out which club she was at so that I could hurry up and meet them and at least have a little fun.

12:44 a.m.: "Where you be?"

No answer.
1:03 a.m.: "Where are you?"

No answer.

I started to worry. She is a very attractive young lady. Believe me when I say, I thought the worst. I walked around for a little while, checking out the smoking areas of various clubs and did not see her. Worry level, blood pressure, and anxiety level is now at an all-time maximum. I started to see those little spots when your blood pressure gets too high, and decided the best thing to do was to go back to my car and try to breathe and relax, since I have hypertension and forgot to take my pill. I know, I know.

I get back to my car, check the time. 1:25 a.m. I called her, and got no answer. I hung up the phone, and had a very scary event happen at that moment.

I passed out.

I have heard about people with high blood pressure getting nosebleeds, having wierd pains, and/or passing out when the old BP gets too high. I never thought it would actually happen. But it did. And it was scary as hell when I woke up. I had no idea where I was, what was going on, or how long I had been out. I immediately picked up my phone, slid to unlock, and hit talk twice. Checking my call log later revealed that I was out for 5-7 minutes. Because I called her again at 1:33 a.m. Hearing her voicemail did snap me back into reality, though. I had some aspirin with me, so I chewed a couple into dust. I started feeling better in just a few minutes. Two more phone calls while I was sitting in my car playing solitaire on my phone, 1:51 a.m. and the final one at 2:03 a.m.

I decided that it would be smart to leave and go home. I'm glad I did, because it is now 5:00 p.m. on Sunday, and I still haven't heard from her. And to be honest, I don't think I will for at least another day. And she'll offer some sort of quick apology and never speak of it again...which is what she does when she screws up. And believe when I say, it has been happening quite often lately.
Okay, back to the story: I started my car, and burst into tears. Like, sobbing and sniveling like I was 7 years old and my parents had just used the belt on me for lying type of crying. I knew it was bad when later I recalled that I was actually rocking back and forth. Really? Who does that? I felt like a total...well...bitch. I tried to remember later why I was crying, and what I was thinking. Then I prayed for an answer, and it came.

"Unhinged." That was the word that was on skipping-record mode in my mind. Unhinged. As in, at that moment, I became completely and totally unhinged. I was already vulnerable because my girlfriend's been treating me like garbage lately for absolutely no reason. I have dealt with undeserved anger, being completely ignored, being told that she doesn't feel like being touched, watching her flirt with other guys in my face, her paying more attention to her (omitted colorful metaphor) phone than me, and hanging out with everyone else in the world but me. I actually had to watch another dude grab my girlfriend's ass in front of me, and her not say a damn word to him. She's apparently never even told this guy - that flirts with her on a daily basis - that her and I are dating. Really? Thanks for making me feel great about myself.

And you remember that "undeserved anger" I was talking about? It's also the reason I can't tell her any of this. Because she takes everything I say the wrong way, and gets angry with me in a NY minute - which is about as long as it takes you to read the period at the end of this sentence.
And...I just checked Facebook and she changed her relationship status to "single" and didn't say a damn thing to me. Won't answer my calls or texts. Which means that all my suspicions are now confirmed. That she did me dirty. Well, like Jay-Z says...on to the next, on, on to the next one. Maybe.

In times like these...

Dear Whoever-the-hell-reads-this,

I had a trying day today. It seems like people are becoming more and more scandalous with each passing day, and I'm tired of it. Even my girlfriend said something about it to me today; that she's noticed it, too. It really got me thinking about two words that, when put together, make for a serious concern.

Suspect behavior.

If someone does anything, and I mean ANYTHING, other than what they say they are going to do, that is suspect behavior. If someone acts a certain way to your face, and does something else behind your back that you find out about later, that's suspect behavior. I could go on and on, but you get the hint.

I guess that when it all gets down to the nitty-gritty, I'm really tired of things not going my way. I expect people who I choose to associate myself with to act in a manner that is befitting of the title "friend," and no other way. I do not like to be lied to, especially when it's something stupid and small. I also expect those people to be straightforward and honest with me about everything. Lately there have been people hiding things and think I don't know, or telling me one thing when I absolutely, without-a-doubt, and with one hundred percent assuredness know the exact opposite. So, I offer this piece of wisdom for you, from my heart, just to be clear.

I am 33 years old. I have been around the block, back again, over here, over there, and many more places than you think. I had a rough childhood, even rougher teenage years, and haven't been the luckiest S.O.B. up to this point. I've been overweight since I was about ten years old, and took all the punishment that is associated with that; I still do on a daily basis. I am thankful for these experiences, because it gave me two things that most people don't get blessed with, and two great reasons to love myself.

First, character and personality. Humor, people skills, charisma, tact, caring, spirituality, loyalty, honesty, trust, trustworthy, and the ability to be straightforward. My word still means something to me. When I make a promise, I try extremely hard to keep it; if I can't, there's a reason, not an excuse.

Second (this is where I get truthful) - common sense combined with book smarts. That makes me dangerous. With everything that I've been through, all that I've seen, and what I've seen others go through...I can pretty much say I've been there and done that. Don't ever think I don't know EXACTLY what is going on at all times, in every situation. That's people mistaking my kindness for weakness. I have never been, am not, and will never be weak.

And I'm definitely not stupid.

I can see through a ruse a mile away. If you are guilty of this crime against me, please believe that I see it, know exactly what is going on, and am allowing it to happen the exact way that I want it to. Because I don't run this...GOD runs this...and He gives me the strength, intelligence, and common sense to see every facet of everything around me at all times and in all situations. He also gives me the strength and wisdom to know exactly how to handle it. I'm a firm believer in giving someone enough rope to hang themselves...and that's just what I'll do. Let you hang yourself.

I know, it seems like I'm just complaining because I had a rough day. I apologize if that's how you take this. I just think it's important for people to understand that I have more respect for myself than to deal with people trying to make me fall for suspect behavior.

Because in the end, if you don't stand for something, you'll fall for anything.

This is me. Still standing.

V.

That doesn't make you a DJ. (For DJ's)

Recently I have been perusing some different venues, and I've noticed something that is beginning to bother me. The worst thing I saw? I asked a "DJ" if he had a song - by Static Revenger and Richard Vission, to be exact - and he told me that he did. Fantastic! I don't usually make a request of the DJ, but I really felt like hearing that song. I hear it come on a few minutes later, and it sounded really grainy and awful. Well, to my ear it did. It was also a tiny bit different than the song I know. I figured maybe it's a remix I hadn't heard of before. I went over to the booth to ask about it, and saw that this moron was actually playing a song from YOUTUBE. In a club. A very large, popular club in the Jacksonville area. I stepped back and started to really watch and listen.

I've noticed that this jackhole is doing something increasingly popular in this area these days. Jack some software, get some music from whatever pirating, torrent-based thievery site you choose, and show up at a club saying that you are a DJ. Let me tell you something, punk:

THAT DOES NOT MAKE YOU A DJ.

Plain and simple. How DARE you think that people like myself and so many other people I know in this area who have spent years, in some cases over a decade, perfecting their craft and still learn new things every day, spend thousands and thousands of dollars on equipment, tens of thousands of dollars on music, and who actually know what they are doing would even come close to accepting you as one of us...because you went to Wal-Mart (evil bastards) and bought yourself a $400 dollar laptop and jacked VirtualDJ. That doesn't make you a DJ.

Basically, this makes me very angry. And I'm not even that great of a DJ. There are guys in this area like Kaoss, Jimmy Jam, Sky, Nick @ Nite, The Wiz, my WHOLE Wilmington Crew and a few others that would wipe the floor with me. And I still get this angry. I really feel like you should have to pass some sort of test and earn the title. At least be able to tell someone what BPM's are. Maybe you could know that the little slide-back-and-forth-type thing is called a crossfader. Or what time-code means. Or tell anyone what transforming is. I can't do it, but DAMN, at least I know what it is.

I could spend 3 hours training an 18-year old who has never before seen DJ equipment up close and they'd tear you apart.

So, here is a proposal to anyone who wants to think about this and has the means to do it. Invite everyone in this area who calls himself/herself a DJ to a centralized location. I'll make up a written test, 20 questions, multiple-choice. We'll find someone who is willing to allow us to use some 1200's or some CDJ 1000's, and let's have a test. We'll call it a DJ aptitude test. You must be able to scratch over a song and make it sound at least worthy of being labeled a train wreck, beat mix two songs above the level of train wreck, and generally not blow out the speakers. I'll even provide my personal speakers. And my music. Oh, and you must be able to make an announcement over the mic without sounding like an effin' moron. (There goes half of them.)

And if you play dubstep, keep your hind parts at home and take the damn title. No one wants to hear that crap. I can go watch Transformers if I want to hear dubstep, and I'll be more entertained.

And I don't even want to get into karaoke playing people - in our world, they are BELOW the bottom of the barrel. Therefore, you are all excused, and are forever to be labeled Troglodyte KJ's. And if you are caught using the term "DJ" to refer to yourself, you are to have your jacked version of PCDJ removed from your computer, all of your stupid karaoke tracks wiped clean, and your equipment locked up for 4 months at a storage unit that we only pay one month of. At which time, it will be auctioned off to real DJ's, if we even want it.

In the interest of full disclosure, I have to say that most of the time I DJ from my laptop. I use Traktor DJ Studio 3 and a MAYA44 USB hooked up to a Gemini battle mixer, and I do not use time-code. The answer why is simple. I can't afford it. Most of the time when I get a gig, I get short-changed or screwed over, and I end up having to use what little money I do have to pay bills. That's why I'm in college. And I don't think buying a couple of Numark Axis 4 and Traktor Scratch Duo is the answer. Until such time as I can afford what I really want, I'll continue doing what I do. But, I do not use the sync button...EVER!!! Stop laughing at me.

(And what I really want right now is 2 Denon S3500's and a Pioner DJM800. Just sayin'…)

An introduction of sorts.

This is my attempt at a blog. I wanted to do a vlog, but that's going to be dirty and comical, and it won't be for everyone. Consequently, if you know me, you'll realize I plan on keeping this amazingly clean unless I am EXTREMELY angry about something.

So, this is where I begin. I am currently in my early 30's. I DJ for a living, and I'm semi-successful. This basically means that I can survive six months out of the year, and live meagerly the other six. I'm a college student, on my way to becoming a secondary ed. high school teacher, and eventually a college professor. I hope.

Now, on to what I'd really like to write. First and foremost, our government sucks. Pay our troops. And those that are considered "mandatory personnel" - like my stepfather, who works for Marine Corps Community Service (MCCS) and isn't even in the military any more, but who was told he had to report to work and not get paid if the shutdown actually happened. Thank God it didn't.

Next, a huge deal to me: The fact that I have to talk to many people on a daily basis that I DO. NOT. LIKE. As a practicing Christian (roman catholic to be exact) I really try to be a kind person. However, I'm not interested in speaking with you at any length if we have nothing in common, I find you annoying, you are a story-topper, or you seem to have some sort of medical problem that you insist on complaining about every time you can find a way to bring it up in conversation, or if you smell funny. I know you're probably still staring at the "story-topper" phrase and wondering what it is. Let me give you a quick description in the form of a conversation:

Story-topper: "Hey, are you alright? You look a little tired."

Me: "Yeah, I didn't get that much sleep last night. Maybe 5 hours."

Story-topper: "Oh, that's nothing, I've slept a total of 5 hours in the last two weeks."

Really? Seriously?!? That's ridiculous. You KNOW the person is BS-ing you, and yet you really can't say anything. So, I've decided to tell you how I am going to treat these people from now on; my personal mantra, if you will. Ready? Here it is:

Jesus said I have to love you. He didn't say I have to like you.

From now on, if I don't like someone, I'm going to find a way to politely excuse myself from the company of that person, and not come back. Period.

I am sick and tired of wasting my life doing things I don't give a good-slam-hot-damn about. I waste time and energy on people I DON'T WANT TO BE AROUND, every day. Dudes that behave in a less-than-manly manner are included in this category, as well. I'm all for a small amount of effeminate behavior, after all, I'm more metro than average. However, emasculation is a different story. Wear pants made for men. Hell, wear CLOTHES made for men! I don't want to see the outline of your johnson when you dress. This is what a good friend of mine, Tazz, refers to as "moist" behavior. Justin Bieber hair, skinny-sole Vans, berets...unless you are in France and an artist...ARE NOT MANLY. They're douche-y. Just sayin'. STOP.

That being said, there are plenty more things I would love to rant about, but those will have to wait. My girlfriend is partying with some friends of hers tonight, so I am going to have a MANLY Netflix night. I'm going to watch The Notebook. Just kidding.

V