Fraud Is Such An Ugly Word

The next stage that I was about to set in motion some might consider unethical, while some might find it a brilliant solution. In actuality, what I was planning to do next was done only out of desperation and frustration with a heartless, uncaring system. Even more simply, I didn't know what else to do.

With stage one in motion, and friends of mine covering as former employers to reflect a more stable job history, the next stage was to give myself a degree. I had heard about fake degrees over the Internet and decided to do a little investigating to see what they were all about. I found a great site (I will refrain from mentioning the name of the site since I am not here to promote or advertise these kinds of sites) where I could order the paper for the degree, the security paper for the transcript, and a "template" that helps you set up the wording. After making necessary name changes, you print it out on your printer, and voila! You are instantly a college graduate and all for just forty dollars. Of course I actually did go to school for seven years so I think my "ol' college try" (please excuse the pun, it is hard to resist) at college should count for something.

Most employers will contact the school while doing background checks to verify your information. I managed a way to get around that which, unfortunately, is a secret I can not divulge for the simple reason that a magician can not reveal all his secrets (and no, not because I want to sell the secret to you for 24.95). I also do not want to encourage actions of this nature. Let's just say that the college I "graduated" from is not an Ivy League school. I do feel that education is important and young people thinking of going to college should go and really divest all of your time and effort into it. I know I did. I really wanted to graduate, it's just that I became "lost" and no one bothered to look for me. I wouldn't be surprised if some readers don't fully understand what I went through and think that I just copped out or that I am just lazy. Well, you would be wrong because mental illness (and coupled with chronic low self-esteem) is not being lazy, it's being ill. There used to be a well-known statement: No child left behind (unless of course you are paying for college and then nobody gives a crap).

Let's face it, it's a dog eat dog world so I did what I had to do. If hiring managers are heartless and corporations are heartless, why should I feel bad? Besides, it's a win win situation. I get a job which pays much better than the entry level one I would've hated which helps the company because my morale is certainly higher. I had low paying jobs in the past working retail and I couldn't give a sh*t about proper procedure. I would work at the register and if the item the customer was buying didn't get scanned by the register, it's their lucky day! Into the bag the item went, regardless. I would even tell the customers that if I missed something, I'm not going to worry about it but if they want they can go to customer service and let the store know that the item didn't get scanned and wasn't paid for. On a side note: strangely, not one custmomer seemed to mind getting their "lucky day".

With fake degree in hand (figuratively speaking of course) and phony job history, off I went. I felt like a new man and, as far as my resume was concerned, I was a new man. One other factor that helped was that I relocated to another part of the United States. I married (now divorced), and my wife and I moved. The move was actually because my wife wanted to start a business of her own and she thought that the new locale would be a great place for it. Things didn't quite work out so well and we never started the business. We found jobs in the mean time and I even became manager of a retail business. I wasn't real crazy about it because it didn't pay very well and there were no benefits. Times were tough for us and the marriage started to fall apart. She (my ex wife) had quite a temper at times and she had trouble controlling her anger. She would lose control and at times I would get punched in my head, face, back, probably elsewhere too but I can't recall. I lost count as to how many times it happened. Eventually I fell into deep depression and began to fall out of love with her. I didn't let her know because I didn't want to go back to New Jersey to live, there was nothing for me there, and I needed her income to stay. My plan was to try to find a job that paid enough that I could support myself on, and then move away from her and file for divorce.

There isn't much written about "battered husband syndrome" but I can tell you I am still feeling the effects a year after her and I went separate ways. After we mutually agreed things weren't working out we both decided to get a divorce. She went her way and I went mine, and we still keep in touch through e-mail. She is not a bad person, she just needs help. She would tell me after her rage would dissipate, that I need to know how to calm her down. I would think to myself, "Isn't that her responsibility? What am I supposed to do? Sprinkle pixie dust or wave a magic wand to make her anger go away?"

I struggled for a spell, had some part time jobs, even attempted suicide but didn't tell anyone and eventually managed to land a position with a Fortune 500 company. I make about 50,000 dollars a year. Not bad for someone who didn't finish college and the longest I held a job before this one was 6 months. At times, though, I still wish I had that "passion" for something that others seem to have. I would love to know what that feeling is like. To know what you want to do, pursue it, start doing it, and love what you do. It must be a great feeling.

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Flirting With Disaster (Falling Into the Cracks Yet Again)

In the late 90's I was living on my own, trying to make it in the big world. Without much of a direction to go in, it isn't easy. Some might be wondering, "Aren't there services to assist people like yourself"? Sure, and I was working with them but there was not much they could do (unless I wanted a job sweeping up or digging ditches for low wages, which is all I could expect). One such department called "Supportive Employment" in New Brunswick, NJ (a part of "The Division of Vocational Rehabilitation") places people with mental illness or emotional problems into jobs, and they offer a counselor to work with the person when stressful situations arise (So that you don't just walk off the job). I worked with a great counselor, Eric. Him and I really connected (I also considered him my friend) but we just hit too many road blocks to be successful at finding me a "decent" position at a "fair" wage.

The problem wasn't Eric's abilities. The problem was the department's policies which he had to abide by, such as the fact that they have to let the possible employer know what "Supportive Employment" is and what they do. Big mistake. I realize honesty is the best policy but not when you are trying to find a job for people who have mental illness, and their job history is rather spotty to say the least. Now I am finding that there are alot of people out there who recognize mental illness and can accept it, but when it comes to prospective employers that's completely different. Even if it is just a minor disorder and the person looks completely "normal" (eg, well groomed, no drool running down their face, etc.) it is still not going to be accepted by the employer. The simple reason: reliability, and to a large degree prejudice. The employer's feeling is that they have a business to run and do not want to run the risk that the person they hire with this disability will not show up or may show up in the beginning and then later on stop showing up. Of course this is against the law, but try and prove it.

My belief was that "Supportive Employment" was going to send me to school and obtain some skills, while I worked at night. So I managed to get hired by UPS for the Christmas holiday working in the warehouse in Edison, NJ from 9pm to 3am (big mistake. Why? Because it really sucked). The work was boring (very repetitive), a few of the supervisors were royal a**holes, no sympathy or "easing in" for new employees, and basically the company does not give a crap about it's employees. If you come late even once, you are fired. I was never late I can proudly say but I couldn't stand either of the two areas they put me in. The first area was truck trailer loading; the big 18 wheelers. My first night they put me in one all by myself. I realize it's not rocket science but it does seem counter productive to have brand new employees (a trainee) all on their own. If an airline used the same logic with commercial airline pilots, you can be rest assured that is one flight I'm not going on.

I realize that it all comes down to dollars and cents. They want to maximize profit and minimize spending. They also figure the person working there really wants the job so they will do anything and everything to keep it. Not so with me. I was also receiving disability for depression so if I lost this job I could honestly care less. I did care about people's packages, however. We were informed to put to the side any opened package that is leaking it's contents. I also found that I was the only one who practiced what we were told to do. The general attitude was no one wanted to be bothered with the broken packages and a lot of damaged and even open packages would just get shipped with all the other packages. Packages were not handled with care either. The packages are stuffed, punched, kicked, and anything else you can do to a package. If you ship UPS, be aware of this. I would assume FedEx is no better. The best you can do is use a lot of bubble wrap inside when you pack your item/s for shipping (and a little prayer never hurts).

I eventually had enough of this (and the insults, yes they insult you too) so one night I just didn't show up. I had called my girlfriend and I told her that I didn't feel like going and she said, "Then don't go", so I didn't. I did try to call the one manager, I think his name was Tom (he was pretty cool, the other manager Steve was an a**hole), and left a message to let him know it wasn't working out. I managed to last till around Christmas and tried to find something else I could do, with the understanding that I would be getting some kind of "rehabilitation" in the beginning of the next year. I started looking around at some area schools and found a program at Middlesex County College for graphic design. I liked using computers on my own and showed Eric some little projects I did creating inserts for audio tapes just using MS Word. He thought they were quite impressive and said that he could the department to purchase graphic design software such as Adobe Photoshop and Quark Express.

These software packages are quite expensive so I appreciated the department buying the software for me. The hope being that if I get familiar with the software I could get a graphic design job. The problem, learning this software on my own was proving to be rather difficult and although now I am quite proficient in Photoshop (I never did bother learning Quark Express), it took me at least a year to get teach myself just the basics. I would even go so far to say that there are probably some functions of Photoshop I still have yet to explore. My interest in graphic design was also beginning to wane, mainly because most of the jobs I researched wanted the prospective employee to have a few years experience and a portfolio which of course I didn't have. It was frustrating for myself and Eric as well.

We decide to fall back on the skills that I was immediately more proficient in, which added up to administrative assistant. Some of these positions can pay quite well and I knew that being an excellent assistant would be a piece of cake for me. Even though I had the computer proficiency, I did not have very much experience (6 months). I thought how ridiculous this requirement is when all you really need is a few months on the job to get the job down. Afterall, all you have to know is how to use a phone and use MS Office software and perhaps Lotus Notes (MS Project doesn't hurt). If you know how to do those things well, then you too can be an administrative assistant. Oh, but I did almost forget you need to be able to read, write, and able to speak proficiently. How could I forget those requirements?

I thought to myself, hypothetically speaking of course, if Eric was willing I could have him act as a former employer and put on my resume that I worked for him for a year or maybe even a few years. This would help me out tremendously. Unfortunately, he didn't find this idea acceptable but only because his hands were tied by the department's policies. I understood, I wasn't pleased by this, but I understood. I also knew that creating a resume with my real job history was not going to open ANY doors for me. Unfortunately, I was correct. Sometimes I really hate it when I am right. Eric and I had hit the end of the line. He tried the best he could and we got no where. Mind you, I still could've gotten a job sweeping up or picking up dog doo for minimum wage but I don't think anyone out there blames me for not wanting to accept these kinds of jobs when I have so much more potential.
By this time it was 2000 and I had been working with the "Supportive Employment" program for about two years. I also had technically moved out of the area (since my crazy roommate Emily "etrag" and I had gone separate ways, thank the Lord) and Eric was working with me because we had also become friends. He referred me to the "Division of Vocational Rehabilitation" (DVR) in Somerville, NJ to work with a counselor Tadd Maffucci. This dude was nice but he was really clueless, and a bit of a dipsh*t. One thing that particularly pissed me off about him was that he made a comment to me (and a rather rude one at that) about how I gave up with college. I told him I was there for seven years and that he has no right to comment about anything that happened then because he wasn't there. He didn't know me then or what I went through. I really hate it when people make a judgement, and they don't know all the facts. They make a judgement based on the faulty logic of:

"If a lot of people can do something, then everyone should be able to"

If we go by this kind of logic, then I guess it would make sense for me to say:

"Since over 1000 people (which is a lot) have climbed Mount Everest, then everyone should be able to"

Info on Mt. Everest

Of course, I am just using that statement to illustrate a point which is that just because a lot of people can do something it doesn't mean everyone should or should be able to, and that if some do not or can not that they are inferior to the ones that can.

The Somerville branch of the "Division of Vocational Rehabilitation" decided they couldn't help me so once again I fell into the cracks. I didn't know what I was going to do at this point so I decided to enroll in web development certificate program at Raritan Valley Community College and I would pay for it. I had no choice. I wanted to get some formalized training in web development and this was going to be my only way.

I do admit I didn't really feel like wasting my time (and money since it was my disability money) with the other courses that the school required that didn't really pertain to web development. The ones I did take, I aced. Like my Multimedia class and all my Web Development courses. After those were done I didn't feel like it was worth getting the certificate. I didn't think it would necessarily open any doors of employment but the main reason was because I wanted some kind of training that would quickly get me fully trained in a couple of months not years. That was the main reason I didn't continue. I was already 30 years old and wasn't getting any younger. The other classes were classes that the school throws in to make it into a "certificate program" and are not really needed to know how to do web design or development.

I started working at a very well known pharmaceutical company in the Records Department. My job was to enter data into the company's records database. They even had top secret documents stored there. I got the job through Kelly Services (yep, the temp agency once again). It was only part-time and I was only paid 10 an hour but at least it was something. Plus I had fun there like you wouldn't believe. My supervisor and I got to be really good friends. He is much older but such a great guy. He is a musician and I built a web site for him too. We would goof off a lot and download mp3's using peer to peer software. I even downloaded some great software. It was a lot of fun. Even my supervisor's supervisor was really nice and we all enjoyed each other's company. We all still keep in touch with each other too.

While working there 3 days a week, I heard about a program at Fairleigh-Dickinson University's "Webmaster Skills Certificate" program. It was for three months during the summer and you would learn the basics of web server (Cold Fusion) and web development like html and multimedia like Flash. It cost $800 dollars and of course I had to cover the cost. I thought it couldn't hurt. I wasn't sure if it would help. I learned some things and the web site I created on Fairleigh-Dickinson's server even got an award. If anything it gives me a minor feather in my cap.

While doing all of this, I thought back about the plan I had mentioned to Eric. I thought if Eric wasn't willing to assist me in my "little white lies", perhaps some of my friends might be willing to. So I asked them, and they were more than willing to help me out. Stage one of my plan was in motion, but something was missing. Sure a great job history is good but the piece de resistance was a degree. The next stage that I was about to set in motion some might consider unethical, while some might find it a brilliant solution.

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Not Looking for Trouble (But Somehow It Just Finds Me)

By now it was the late '90's and I was still searching. I was searching for a career path (although I still maintained an avid interest in my pursuit of becoming an actor) that would lead to that feeling of satisfaction one has (of course, I can only assume since I have never actually felt it but I have imagined what it must feel like) when one loves what they do. I thought that temp agencies would help me in my pursuit, but ultimately they didn't. They could get me positions that would pay ok but I knew I could do so much better (most positions temp agencies find are temporary and the hourly wage isn't very much, most of the time).

While working jobs with the best assistance temp agencies can provide, I also had other deep feelings and desires that drove me to search. Of course it was my search for love. Everyone wants and needs to be loved, and I was loved (and felt loved) by my parents, but I also felt an emptiness (I guess would be the best way to explain it). I didn't feel complete. I was lonely. In early '95 I had met someone when I was 25 (she was separated from her husband but I guess you could say, technically she was still married) at a support group (of all places) and we had a short lived fling. She was my first that I was intimate with. It was awkward and rather difficult since one of the medications I was on caused me to have difficulty maintaining an erection. The relationship was nice but not meant to be. Her therapist wanted to try to get her and her husband back together. I was very sad when I had heard this news from her. I knew she wasn't the love of my life but I wouldn't be able to see her anymore even as a friend. I eventually moved on.

I still wanted to have someone so I could feel more complete. I had joined a dating service "Great Expectations" and I would have to say that if anyone plans to join, don't expect much. It cost me two thousand dollars and all I ended up with was alot of rejections. Perhaps it was the type of women I asked out (I do have high standards), perhaps all women really are looking for their wealthy "knight in shining armor", perhaps a little of both, or perhaps, I didn't stay a member long enough (I was a member for one whole year). Who knows? Who cares? I don't. It's over with now and I vowed never to go back to "Great Desperations, I mean Expectations".

One thing I thought was that if I was to meet someone I needed to move out of my parents house. It just isn't excepted in American society, a 27 year old man living at home with his parents. Perhaps some might accept it but most women would probably think, "What's wrong with this guy?". At least that is what I thought (and for all I know, it's probably true). All I know is that I felt a need to move out regardless of what I felt others thought of me. I wanted to try life on my own and I felt it was time. I knew from the money I made (which wasn't much) that I would need a roommate.

At that time, I was attending a support group call "Emotions Anonymous". It was (and still is I suppose) a 12 step program to help with emotional difficulties (similar to how Alcoholics Anonymous helps with alcohol related problems). It was also a place to go and talk about emotional issues, and a chance to just meet others. There is where I met Emily (also known as "etrag", and who also likes the most horrendous music, i.e. cheesy heavy metal). She was a few years younger than me. At first I thought she was nice to talk to and be friends with but later on became a much different story. Etrag was one of those kinds of people that you could definitely say was a bit off center, but most would probably never realize it knowing her as a casual acquaintance. Etrag lived at home with her mom, dad and her younger sister (who was smokin' hot, by the way, but unfortunately was making wedding preparations).

Etrag and I got to be friends and we started e-mailing each other. One day she e-mailed me that her father is kicking her out of the house (her exact words). To be honest, I didn't really know her and I never met her parents so I had no idea what her parents were like. I only knew her for a few weeks maybe a little longer but I thought here is this very nice girl who is being kicked out onto the street by, perhaps, an abusive father (since I had no way of knowing) and she won't last a day out on the streets (not that I would do any better but I am a male). I really should have thought twice about getting involved with someone I knew only a short time and who I also met at an Emotions Anonymous meeting.

Apparently, although unbeknownst to me at the time, Etrag made it very difficult for her parents and hot younger sister to live with Etrag. She had some kind of problem with her younger sister. I remember reading in Etrag's journal that she had assualted and threatened her younger sister. Etrag was arrested by the police and spent the night in a jail cell. She seemed to have trouble controlling her anger and jealousy, most likely due to extremely low self esteem. There was more to Etrag such as (I found out later) that Etrag liked to mutilate herself with a knife. She would carve words into her arm like, "F**k You". Actions like self mutilation are a sign of a serious mental disorder, but I was completely unaware of this.

So her and I started to talk about being roommates and share an apartment together. We found a place that we both thought was acceptable and it was brand new too. We moved into an apartment in North Brunswick, New Jersey in April or May of '98. It's really not surprising I remember it because it was a living Hell for me. I don't remember exactly when things between us started taking a turn for the worse. She enjoyed punishing me from time to time. I think the first time she handed down a punishment to me was when I had accidently locked her out (and it was an honest mistake). She had gone out to the Emotions Anonymous meeting one night and I was in my room with my girlfriend. My room didn't have a lock on the door (yet) so I thought I better chain the front door of the apartment. One can still enter the apartment building, just not enter the apartment itself. I planned to unchain the door long before she got back, but she returned unexpectedly (which is not my fault, I mean honestly how am I to know?).

Now before anyone makes a judgement, if Etrag was home alone everyone would say that it is understandable for her to chain the door because she is a woman home alone. Well, I am a guy and if a criminal with a gun or a knife (and they do have them) breaks in, I can also be killed. Men are still susceptible to death. There never were any break-ins but I am just saying that things like that could happen anywhere. You never really know so it doesn't hurt to be safe. I chained the door for whatever reason, it's not a big freakin' deal. Except to Etrag. I heard her unlock the door, then attempting to open it, and then the sound of the door chain preventing it from opening. I then heard Etrag yelling from the apartment hallway. I flew over to the front door, it couldn't have taken but maybe 30 seconds or so. One look at her face and I could already see she was pissed. She asked why the door chain was on? I explained that I was in my room with my girlfriend and didn't know she was coming home early.

Now to a normal person, this would be an understandable reason. It was an honest mistake and afterall, it wasn't like Etrag was standing out in the hallway for half an hour while I was in the shower. She wasn't even waiting for 5 minutes. She didn't even have to wait 1 minute. She had no reason to be that mad, but she was. She walked away from me into the living room and while sitting down at her computer she stated my punishment as if she was the Queen of a foreign nation waving her hand in the air to issue her command. As my punishment, I could not use Etrag's computer till further notice (at the beginning of our friendly agreement to be roommates, she had said that her computer could be placed in the living room so that we could both use it to check e-mail, etc.). I have tried endlessly to understand Etrag's logic but I just don't understand it. I guess in Etrag's world, people don't make mistakes (or perhaps they do but mistakes are unforgiveable). I wonder if Etrag's rule about mistakes includes herself. I highly doubt it; she considered herself above any rules.

I had found that Etrag seemed unable or unwilling to offer any sense of compassion or sympathy for anyone else but herself. I remember before the first incident that gave her an excuse to issue her first punishment to me, that I was feeling down during my job hunt because a lot of jobs required someone with a degree and instead of her saying something to make me feel better, offering words of encouragement, all she could say was, "Yeah, not having a degree is really going to hurt you". In my mind I was thinking, "What kind of f**king thing is that to say to someone who is feeling down about that fact?" Etrag was a few sandwiches short of a picnic, in my opinion.

Unfortunately, the previous mentioned incidents weren't isolated ones. There was one occassion I left one dish (just one and only one) in the sink to clean later on after I got back from work or whatever I had to do that was more pressing, and because of that she decided to keep all of the dishes, glasses, and utencils locked in her bedroom. She eventually got angry at me again (but of course!) for some other thing I must have done and all the appliances went in her room as well. The funny part is, she thought that locking everything in her room would keep me from using everything, but I used to get past her locked door (which wasn't very hard to do) and use whatever I needed (I like to microwave my oatmeal in the morning so it's nice and warm, yummm!).

Even though eventually my debt to "Etrag's society" was paid back and she let me use her computer again, she would get mad at me for something and I would be restricted again. Eventually, I read in her computer manual how to open up the computer and essentially "make" the computer "forget" it's password. I outsmarted her, and the only reason I feel I had a right to outsmart her was that her punishments were unjust to begin with. She was basically on a "power trip" (and of course not to mention being a big f**king a**hole in the process). She was using me (and access to her computer) to have her sick fun "pulling my strings" like I'm her puppet (eventually I had had more than enough of Etrag's insanity and saved up enough to get my own computer, which happen to be way superior to her's).

Essentially, it was Etrag's way of giving herself confidence (albeit a false sense), power (once again, a false sense), and ultimately some kind of control in a world that all of us are powerless to control. However, Etrag didn't know how to deal with not getting her way and when she was angry it was basically similar to a child having a tantrum. Perhaps her parents didn't teach her or she was unable (or unwilling) to accept that you can't always get what you want. As a side note: I found it amazing that Etrag always felt she was more mature than me, yet I'm not the one sleeping on top of the toaster (watch out for the extra dark setting, yeowch!)

Etrag didn't just take her anger out on me, but she took it out on my friends as well. I had invited my good friends Ken and Tara to stay over (and why shouldn't I? I paid 50% of the rent so the place was half mine). She made them feel so unwelcome that they didn't want to stay there so they stayed with Ken's parents. She didn't even bother to try to get to know them! That's when I knew there was no going back; it was one thing if Etrag took her anger out on me, but taking it out on my friends who never did anything to her (and technically neither did I, when you really think about it) was another. I could forgive her for abusing me, but not my friends. That was beyond uncalled for.

I have to admit in all fairness that I wasn't a perfect roommate. I tended to be sloppy and have trouble with organization but it was in my own room and I would keep the door locked. The only sloppiness I did outside of my room was the one plate in the kitchen sink. Other than that, I kept my word to everything that Etrag and I agreed upon. On the other hand, Etrag didn't. She tended to have a problem with anything and everything I did. She felt I used too much toilet paper and quickly stopped supplying the bathroom with it. She would carry her own roll into the bathroom and then bring it back to her room (I would say just a bit peculiar and cheap!).

Now, I could understand if someone felt that their roommate played music too loud or the tv too loud or even used too much water, but when it comes to the area of the bathroom no one can say that someone else uses too much toilet paper. Why you ask? Because everyone has different needs. Maybe some else's waste (feces) tends to be a bit messier because of their diet. Maybe they don't want feces in their underwear. Maybe Etrag enjoyed skidmarks in her underwear (I tend to lean to this reason). Who knows? However, the point is that no one can make that call but the person who is actually going (making the poo poo).

During my time living there, unbeknownst to Etrag, I became friends with Etrag's boyfriend (I will respect his anonymity and not mention his name). It was quite accidental how he and I became friends. One day at the apartment I was home alone and the phone rang. I answered it and it was Etrag's boyfriend. He asked to speak with Etrag but seemed a bit distraught. I asked him if he is ok and we then began to talk. I don't remember the exact problem that had occurred since it was some time ago but essentially Etrag had done something to upset him (no surprise, since Etrag could drive anyone to drink). I told him that it's not him. That it's her without a doubt who reacts and acts abnormal (and I wasn't just saying it, it really was her). He told me that talking to me helped him to calm down. He was very grateful and we also agreed that we better not let Etrag know that he and I talked because she would most likely flipout on him (and probably me as well). It was nice to offer a helping hand to him. He was a nice person and was just with the wrong girl. I could never figure out why Etrag wanted a boyfriend. Most of the time she just wanted to be alone and I found out that she really didn't have much of a sex drive. I could never picture her expressing love to anyone (and God, I try not to! Let me just take a minute to get that image out of my head. Ok, moving right along).

Etrag's boyfriend also told me that Etrag would tell him lies about me. Etrag's biggest criticism of me seemed to be that I'm so lazy. Her boyfriend told me that upon hearing her say this he would think to himself, "How can he be lazy? He's never here". Which is true, I had a million things I had to do. To me, not washing one dish was not the end of the world; it could wait or she could certainly feel free to wash it herself if it bothers her that much (and she also knows where she can put it, to let it dry, that is). Her boyfriend also told me that he was there when she decided to put all the dishes in her bedroom because I left the one dirty dish. He felt too that it was strange that she would be so mad just because I left one dish in the sink (I think it's fair to say Etrag is a good candidate for anger management).

After I could not handle anymore of Etrag's immaturity, I found a new place to live. Etrag's parents (I suppose) did not like the idea of her coming back to live with them so they basically bought her a condo to live in since she certainly couldn't afford it (sort of a cage her parents keep her in that she can also let herself in and out of). Ironically, one of Etrag's biggest criticisms of me (and she had a lot of them) was that my parents were always helping me with everything (which they weren't; they only paid the insurance on my car). One time, in response to her criticism I said that her parents are paying off her condo for her so she shouldn't criticize me, and in response she tried to make up some lame excuse that made no sense that I can't even remember what she said.

At times when I think back over those events it does tend to evoke anger from me towards her, however I really do feel sorry for her and take pity on her. It also turned out that her Dad wasn't really kicking her out of the house. I met both of Etrag's parents and they were very nice people. Her Dad had said something to the effect that if Etrag is going to live under his roof, she has to behave accordingly. Saying Etrag tended to distort the truth is an understatement.
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Into The Great Wide Open

The year was 1994 and I had just dropped out (for lack of a better term) of Caldwell College located in the paradise of...Northern New Jersey. Well, actually at this point it was May and the semester had just ended. I finished the semester and just decided not to come back in the Fall so it might not be exactly dropping out. Contrary to what some might believe I had difficulty completing college due to my mental and emotional problems. For one thing, I often had difficulty concentrating. I also had no real drive or ambition, no "calling". In the beginning of my college life I had no clue as to what to do with my life and seven years later I still had no idea what I wanted to do with my life (Nineteen years later (from when I started college in 1987), as I write this blog, I still have no idea as to what to do with my life).

To be honest, and in all fairness to myself, I had (and still have) "ideas" as to what to do with my life but they were dreams built upon the wings of fantasies.

Ideas like:

• rock star
• actor
• astronaut (although that was more like when I was in the fifth grade)
• archeologist (this one was when I was in 7th grade and had just seen the movie "Raiders of the Lost Ark", and after all who wouldn't want to be like Indiana Jones. He's so cool!)
• poet laureate (ok, this one I just threw in because I thought it sounded good)
• video game creator
• radio disc jockey
• recording engineer

Perhaps some of these ideas were possible to obtain, but regardless of that fact, I had no confidence I could be any of them or even had an idea as to how to become them. It just all felt like it was too much work. It was over-whelming, I guess is the best way I could put it, looking back now. My feeling was that I just wanted to throw my arms up in the air and say, "I don't know what I want to do" (and I think I probably actually did do that or at least "mentally" did that).

I have done some acting (stage and independent screen projects) in the past and even some stand-up comedy. So I guess one could say that I have some drive and ambition, but is it realistic? Other than those and the others I listed, nothing else interests me. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if I didn't also suffer from major depression.

To pick up where I left off, college was over for me. I now was going to try to enter the work force. It sounds frightening to think about it and I've already lived through it. The best options I had before me was, in my opinion, retail. I didn't know really anything valuable about computers yet, and I didn't have one at home to use in my free time. There was also mail room work through temp agencies. I also didn't have much in savings, but I did live at home with my parents, so there was one saving grace. I mentioned before about acting I have done. Before I ended my academic career at Caldwell College, I had the pleasure of being in a play at the school. The play was Agatha Christie's "Ten Little Indians" and I played the character, Rodgers (the butler, and no the butler did not do it).

What's interesting to note is that I got into the play by accident. I never had any inclination of being in the play or doing any acting for that matter. The very notion terrified me. A friend of my mine at the college went to audition and asked me to go along with him. There wasn't a big turn out of auditioners so the director, who was also my history professor, asked if I wouldn't mind auditioning for a part. I was reluctant but my friend and the director encouraged me to audition so I did. I got the part and I found that I liked it. It was at this point that I felt that this might be what I would like to pursue. So after stopping my attendance (it sounds much nicer than "dropping out") at Caldwell College, I found some acting classes at a local community college, Raritan Valley Community College. I enrolled in the acting classes there and also got involved with plays there. At first I helped behind the scenes and then after a short time got cast in roles. I also did plays at Somerset Playhouse near Hillsborough, New Jersey.

During that time, I was receiving disability for depression. I would work part-time while going to acting classes. I would go over to the college (Raritan Valley) and use the computer lab there since I was a student. The World Wide Web had just came into existence and I became familiar with web sites (.com? What is that?) and e-mail as well as software programs (self taught). My very first e-mail address being with Hotmail (now I have too many addresses). Eventually I felt well enough to start working full time. Unfortunately the best I could do was a shipping manager position at a company in Somerset, New Jersey called NSG (they specialized in the manufacture of tiny lenses for CD players and such). I was called the shipping manager but there was no one that I supervised. Technically, I was the whole shipping department. The company at that time was rather small (but I suppose you figured that out already). I made a whole gigantic 8 dollars an hour, wow! Now I can retire early! Not quite.

We would get annual raises after our review. I never stayed long enough to find out if I would get a raise. I wouldn't say I hated the job but I definitely didn't love the job, but all the people there, except for one, were so nice. There was this one guy there who was hired to do construction. He was the biggest moron, jackass, and a**hole you could imagine. He loved to give me a problem. Whenever he would saw me (and I mean every time he saw me) he would do this really lame "Wayne's World" impression, you know, "party time", "excelleeeeeent" "whoa, dude!". I wasn't really sure where he was "coming from" so at first it was kind of funny (and I use the term funny in a very loose way). After a very short time it became extremely annoying and also clear to me that he wasn't laughing with me so much as he was doing it to laugh at me or mock me. That's a no no. I will not stand for that sh*t. He needs to grow the f**k up. I'm not exaggerating when I say that this dipsh*t needed some serious psychiatric help. I remember he flipped out at some truck driver who was making a delivery there. He claimed that the driver disrespected him somehow (it's not even worth remembering). What a crackpot, and even his partner felt that the guy's father must have really messed him up somehow.

I don't really know why he felt the need to harass me. Perhaps because he was jealous of me since I was young, had long blond hair, and blue eyes. Despite this, I still tried to talk to him and see if we could be friends. No such luck (but he was a big, dumb, fat, moron, a**hole anyway so why should I care?). I complained about him and he had to start watching his behavior around me, which he did. Oh, I made sure of that. However, the dipsh*t construction guy still loved to goof off and never do his work when the manager was away. He would talk to the ladies there, who worked on the lenses, and basically be a social butterfly (albeit the dipsh*t version). One day he just wouldn't shut up and I was trying so hard to train a new guy who was going to take over my job. I had had enough of the job after 6 or 7 months and I gave notice. Besides dealing with dipsh*t construction guy, I would also get tremendous headaches every Monday from stress. Shipments had to go out on Mondays and there would be alot of pressure.

I left and started other jobs that would last for a little while and then end, bouncing around, doing the job hopping thang, but all the whilst while doing these jobs my main interest was still being an actor. I wasn't sure what I should do as my regular job, though. I would still go over to the local community college (Raritan Valley) and use the computer lab there while doing plays. I also found jobs through temp agencies such as Kelly Services. I pretty much hacked around aimlessly in the full time job area. I also tried unsuccessfully to work with employment services and rehabilitation programs that are set up to help people with disabilities. The main problem being that my aptitude is too high for the kinds of jobs they find, i.e. working at WalMart or McDonald's. I don't want to say that these jobs are beneath me, but they are.

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Time May Change Me (But I Can't Trace Time)

To recap a bit. It was now the early 1990's. I was attending Caldwell College in New Jersey, recently having changed my major a few times. I originally started college with an interest in Communications but Caldwell didn't have Communications as a major so I chose Sociology with a certificate in Communications. The choice of Sociology eventually became English as my major (with the certificate in Communications) then I became a Business major dropping the Communications altogether. After Business didn't work out (and I never second guessed myself, once I have tried a major and didn't like it I never would try it again) I started thinking that computers might be the major for me. So I became a Computer Information Systems major. I also had to take some Business classes as a major in CIS.

Looking back at my time taking these Business courses, I remember some of the professors I had were the biggest, well, let's just say the word begins with an "a" and ends with a "hole". I can imagine that most readers would probably say that I must have an "attitude problem". In response, I would have to say (in a nice way) no, I don't have a problem with my attitude. I have a problem with people who are a**holes. The a**holes are the ones who have a problem with their attitude. For example, I'll never forget the one accounting professor I had, Alvin Neiman who ran his classroom like it was high school. I think on the first day of class or one of the early days he announced to the class, "Class begins at 9am. Not 9:01 or 9:05 but 9am. You are to be here at that time". He continued, "There will be no eating, drinking, or chewing gum in class".

Now, I had no problem with getting to class on time (in fact that was the part I enjoyed the most out of going to college; I just have to sit and listen) but my feeling is: this is not high school, it is college and we are all adults. Not to mention our tuition pays your salary so if we arrive late due to whatever reason i.e. traffic, car problems, health problems, or just our choice to get there when we get there or even not at all, it is our right to do so. Of course it is only fair that if a student arrives late, that they don't disrupt the whole class and that it is the resposibility of the student who arrives late or does not go to make up what they missed. I wonder if it would make a difference to the professor if this was a night-time Continuing Education class and we were all working full-time jobs in addition to going to class at night? Would it then be acceptable to come one minute late? It shouldn't make a difference. Everyone has other things going on in their life. Let's face it, our personal life and health (including mental health) can interupt our day to day activities.

This is the on going, all too common problem with our society. We don't allow people to be human, and it seems like we are unable or unwilling to offer sympathy, compassion, or understanding. Why is this? Is it too much to ask? Am I asking too much of our society to be more understanding? The way I look at is, we need to teach not only academics in school but teach the basics of life about having compassion and understanding of others. Humans are not perfect beings. We are susceptible to maladies and we make mistakes. My feeling is: big deal, you arrive late to class chewing gum, is the world going to end? Perhaps it was just the power went to the professor's head, who knows?

The Business classes weren't going very well so it was time again for a change. This time, however, the change wasn't all that different. I decided to change my major to Computer Science (i wouldn't have to take the Business classes). By this time it was 1994 and I had been in college for 7 years, but I wasn't always a full-time student and I also had taken a year off in 1989 to see what I could do in the work world. I worked two jobs, I did security from 6pm to 1:30am and then worked at Roche Labs from 2am to 10am. God, looking back I am so glad I am not doing that work now. Both were low paying and 3rd shift work is not easy to get used to (and I didn't really enjoy the work; although the one saving grace to my security job was that it gave me time to read some books that I liked). I would get home at 10am from the labs and I couldn't sleep. I went three days without sleep. I remember I started hearing things (I thought someone was talking to me, when in actuality they weren't). I would also find myself writing strange sentences that made no sense or didn't have any relevance as to what I was doing at that time. It was quite bizarre.

I also remember the summer of 1989 I worked for Merry Maids cleaning people's houses. I did the best I could do and I think I made people very happy. I remember I cleaned a toilet at one customer's house that had water stains on the inside porcelain. There is a special cleaner we use for that, which is a stone. I forget what kind of stone it is but it's just a little stone. It takes the stain right off. The only trouble is you have to stick your hand into the toilet (and I mean the part of the toilet where the waste goes, i.e. number one and number two). Of course I did wear rubber gloves but it was still not my cup of tea. I do remember the home owner commenting to my supervisor that the toilet looks fantastic or something to that effect. It did make me feel good and proud of myself that I made her happy. Even though it gave me that warm fuzzy feeling, I knew that this was not going to be a career for me. I wanted to go back to school and still try it in the hopes that just maybe it might work out even though I had no idea what I was doing.

However, it was now 1994 and I had given it the ol' college try (no pun intended). If I didn't really try before (and I think I did) I really tried hard this time as a Computer Science major. I went to the computer lab as often as I could to work on my programs for my Pascale class. Unfortunately I just couldn't get my programs to work and I remember another student would help me to get them working correctly. I just felt inside that I was going no where fast. I knew that I couldn't keep doing what I was doing. I decided to take a leave from college, with the possiblity in the back of my mind, that I might return someday. Of course I didn't know when and I even doubted I would ever go back. I just knew that at this time I needed to move on.

To what, I had no idea...

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