Self-fulfilling prophecy, FTSwindle

I smell what he's cooking

Oh blogosphere... Sometimes you have to laugh to keep yourself from crying.

Self-fulfilling prophecies are when things come to fruition because people indirectly cause it to happen, whether it be via their own neurotic tendencies or by someone else's subconscious actions. For example, Spencer Pratt believes he's a famous celebrity. Does he have any discernible talent? Not that I've seen. Is he an unbearable douchelord that most of us wish would just go away? Undoubtedly. But guess what? Those of us that hate him yet talk about how much he sucks (hello, ME!) are helping his celebrity grow because there's really no such thing as bad pub when you're famous for no reason to begin with. SELF-FULFILLING PROPHECY.  

Nice flesh-colored beard, dick. 

Why do I bring this concept up, you ask? Well, I have a self-fulfilling prophecy of my own that reared its ugly head this afternoon. My belief is that Murphy's Law - whatever can go wrong will do so - was originally created with my love life in mind. The only thing that was more surprising than The Old Lady sending me the "we need to talk" text this afternoon (we all know what that means) instead of coming over to hang out like we planned is the fact that we even got to the relationship stage to begin with. I say that not out of a lack of confidence in myself - far from it, I know I'm a catch - but out of an increasing paranoia that anytime I try to get involved with someone, it will somehow find a way to unravel. But then again, maybe it is me, as one can only run into the same coincidence SO many times before he has to find the common denominator of his problems. The more I say I'm not superstitious, the more I find myself being superstitious about things, and I've trained myself to not become too comfortable talking about relationships and potential ones because I actually believe it will jinx them. I wish I were kidding about that.

As a self-proclaimed romantic, I'm just not wired like most guys. It takes so much effort and so many things falling the right way for me to even get into the ballpark that most guys reach so effortlessly that when these things inevitably fall part, it's unbelievably disheartening. I'm not into "chasing tail" or adding notches to my proverbial belt - anyone who knows me can tell you that. Call it a lack of game or whatever you wanna call it, but there's no point in trying to be something you're not, and like Kanye said, everything I'm not makes me everything I am. Don't get me wrong - I'm not saying I'm better than those guys because I'm certainly not above the friends with benefits type of thing in the right situation. But 9 times out of 10, when it comes to dating, I'm much more of a slowly get-to-know-you kinda guy, preferring to go about it the less pressure-filled, easygoing way of talking to someone personally as opposed to approaching a girl in public at a bar and trying to manufacture a connection out of thin air. As far as I'm concerned, slow and steady wins the race because life is a marathon, not a sprint (ironic because I was a sprinter in high school track: I HATED any distance-related events).

It stands to reason that the one relationship I've had as an adult that would have lasted as long as I wanted was the one that I couldn't ever fully get invested in. I'm not so delusional that I think I'm the only one to experience this, but that doesn't make me feel any better and I can only complain about my own lot in life. Tonight is one of those rants that my boys back home would refer to as "homotional," but writing is the only real immediate catharsis I have ever known. Dammit, I'm one of the good guys, am I not? I just don't understand how the good guys are the ones who tend to strike out more when we're trying to do it the right way with the right intentions when Tucker Max is out there serial fornicating and not even apologizing for having nothing more going for him than being a literal and a figurative dick. It's like being broke and seeing those pro athletes that make millions upon millions of dollars and then end up broke when they retire; How in 5 hells does Antoine Walker blow $100 million in a career? Why should he be rich instead of someone who can take care of their money? What kind of world are we living in?

I blame Adam and Eve for taking a bite out of that fruit when God told them not to. Everything was perfectly peachy until they got too curious and here we are thousands of years later living in a messed up world.

Serpent: GOTCHA, BITCH!

Ha, that serpent was a rascal. Like I said, sometimes you have to laugh to keep yourself from crying. Until next time, this is Sir Marcus T. Williams signing off....

Yall take care now.

Another Weekend Update

Bonjour Blogosphere! Sir Marcus again here bringing you the latest musings from my world. Good ol' HM, bless her heart, not so subtly reminded me last night that the infrequency with which I blog is not acceptable to her. I can only assume that she's speaking for the general blogosphanatic populace, so yall owe her some gratitude, as here I am. Ready to take a ride? As with most rides, that question was rhetorical, as we're taking off right now, regardless of your preparation levels.

- As of last night, your boy is officially no longer single. Take a moment to digest that statement, as it constitutes fairly significant progress on my part.

Me and my new flame - I call her Old Lady - have been talking for about 2 weeks now and I must say, I am thrilled to death about it. In our short time seeing one another, we've just clicked from the very beginning and I feel good about where this is going. She's a great gal - very considerate and open-minded, and most importantly, she gets me and my sense of humor. I happen to think that my sense of humor is my biggest asset, so it's a HUGE plus when a girl gets me comically; that's more than half the battle, as far as I'm concerned. The rest of the battle is the girl being a fan of chocolate, so I think I'm good there - for now, at least. I haven't decided whether I'll be black tomorrow or not.

This represents progress because those of you who really know me can vouch for the comedy of errors that my love life has been seemingly since I hit puberty. Shortly after we became facebook official - the true barometer of any relationship's legitimacy in 2010 - there was quite an outpouring of support and reactions from some of my friends. Perhaps these people were legitimately happy for me in a relieved sort of way or maybe their reactions were just a release of previously-subdued pity, as if I had been the one-legged guy struggling to compete on American Gladiators. I'm not sure which one it is, placing me in the conundrum of not knowing whether to express gratitude or curse these friends of mine, but for the time being, a great big fucking thank you will have to suffice.

TV's most inspirationally-depressing hour ever.

- Last night was the 2010 MTV Video Music Awards, and those of you who remember my running "color" commentary on last year's train wreck (WFW pt. 2), will be sad to hear that this year's edition did not provide as many noteworthy moments.

Taking over the hosting duties this year was Chelsea Handler, who unfortunately will probably need to leave this gig off of any future hosting resumes. Most of us - with maybe the exception of this wholesome angel - generally find Handler to very funny or likable in some way, but the minute I heard she was hosting, I thought the decision was questionable, at best. The reason I say that is that those of us familiar with her work  - whether on TV or in her books - knows that her material is best served for mature audiences, a group that is probably not consisting of the trendy music-lapping, Jersey Shore watching teenage clientele who still watch MTV regularly. Handler's monologue mostly fell flat or went right over the audience's heads, something she probably didn't even realize. She had a throwaway line in the monologue about her being high because she decided not to drink that night that she probably included for humor purposes, but she most likely was high because the fact that her jokes weren't landing never appeared to even register to her. She seemed to be having a ball up there regardless of crowd reaction, which is good for her, but did not make for the most compelling television ever. 

As for the show itself, there wasn't much else to speak of. Of the apparent 6 awards that they probably handed out last night, I'd say Lady Gaga or Justin Bieber won 5 of them. Taylor Swift proved that her forgiveness can be earned but only after waiting AN ENTIRE YEAR, when she can bring it up at the same awards show with her song about Kanye West, "Still An Innocent." The night ended with Kanye performing publicly for like the 2nd time since last year's gaffe and giving his best apologetic effort to date, basically taking shots at himself and providing me and my cronies back home our group's new anthem in "Runaway." 

Besides that, nothing significant really happened. There certainly was no black guy trying to get away with a time-honored social faux pa that would have racial implications; Oh wait....

Blackface: this CAN'T go wrong! 

- NFL season is upon us. Just being able to say that after months and months of anticipation means that many fans across the country needed a change of pants shortly after the Saints/Vikings game kicked off this past Thursday night. My Dolphins are off to a 1-0 start, giving them a half-game lead over the hated Jets for all 6 AFC playoff spots. SO WHAT if the Jets don't play til tonight? The point is that they're in our rear-view mirrors at the moment, and shame on you all for making me say it.

-  I just finished reading The CollegeHumor Guide to College, an incredibly funny take on the various experiences and aspects that are common to college. Granted - not everything in here will apply to every single college student - but I tell you all, this book is HILARIOUS. It's a bit long for a book that reads like a handbook - around 350 pages - but you will not regret reading it. I'll even let you come over to my house and read it if you're my girlfriend. Be forewarned however - this is not for the young, the naive or the Amish; there is talk of sex, drugs, alcohol and electricity in this book.

Next up on the reading list: A.J. Jacobs' The Year of Living Biblically, in which the author actually attempts to live a year following the Bible as literally as possible; should be quite the ride. Stay tuned for further developments.

On that note, I think it's time to wrap her on up. It's been a joy catching up with you all, I hope you've enjoyed it as much. Until next time, holla at a playa when you see him in he streets, trick! No but for serious, yall stay classy and take care out there; this is Sir Marcus T. Williams, signing off....