"What religion or reason could drive a man to forsake his lover?"

Now, where were we? Yes, regrets. I wish I could be that cavalier person who proclaims, "I regret nothing!" Unfortunately, that's simply not who I am. I am filled with regrets. Petty regrets, even. Regardless, a lot of these regrets shaped my life, and I'm curious to know "what might have been?" Most of these changed me as a person, but I wouldn't say that it was for the better. Whenever I think to myself, "I'd like to be a better person", there are several glaring instances that remind me of how I got to where I am. Well, what's Regret #1? I regret that my high school persona was that of "the guy who's madly in love with the girl who doesn't want him". Allow me to explain.

Around the time of middle school, I changed schools a lot. Either the public school system was dangerous, or the Catholic school was full of hardass nuns. Now, I had always been a friendly kid and I hadn't really had trouble making friends. I had gone to the same school from K-6, so it was weird leaving my little family that I'd established over that 7 year period. Kind of like "Saved by the Bell: The College Years", I took a few of them with me to middle school. That is, until I left after 6 weeks because of...let's say "irreconcileable differences". Anyway, I went to public school for a year, and still befriended the cool kids 'cause I was like their own personal nerd. That smart kid they had around "just in case". I schooled them on how to sneak out of their homes for dates and how to change their report cards. Sometimes, I'd even let 'em cheat off of me. Whatever it took to survive and be friended. In any case, I finally landed at Newport for 8th grade. All of a sudden, I didn't know ANYBODY. And I was pretty desperate to make friends.

All my life, I had just been friendly and people came to me, but this was different. There was a meanness to some of these kids. It was a different environment, and I don't know if it was the money or the upbringing. Don't get me wrong; I'd grown up in private school, but there's something about kids who go to a $10K school that sort of set them apart from the rest. All of a sudden, there were family ski trips, weekend resort trips, etc. I felt like Lainey Boggs, 'cause I certainly couldn't afford to do all of that stuff. In any case, Mommy wanted me to fit in and sent me to what she could afford, but I just couldn't seem to make friends. There'd be days I'd come home from school and just cry. Yeah, it sucks, but I was really lonely. And the one day that I thought this was all going to change was a day that I'll never forget.

One afternoon, I had study hall and found myself with nothing to do. Somehow, I began a conversation with Matt and Leroy. Let me tell you a little about these two bastards. I didn't know it then, but those two guys were real sons of bitches. Matt was sort of the black-heartthrob-with-a-chip-on-his-shoulder, while Leroy was your stereotypical henchman/sidekick. Leroy's utter uselessness later became quite evident when he got expelled, on the last day of school, for punching Barney Rubble at Kings Dominion, but that's a story for another time.

Anyway, I guess they decided to "have fun with the new guy", but I didn't realize it at the time. They were really friendly, inviting me to stuff and whatnot. Stuff that, in hindsight, you KNOW is lip service, but back then, it was the Holy Grail. The biggest thing they did, though, was plant a seed. You see, they told me that this girl, Amani, had a crush on me. Now, kids at this age have crushes all the time, but I've never really related to my cohorts. While most people would kind of care for a week and walk away, I somehow saw this as an answer to my prayers: Here I was, worried about not making friends, while here was a girl who actually liked me as MORE than a friend.

Now, let's factor in a few things. I had never really had a conversation with this girl. Mere shit-shooting here and there. Didn't know much about her. But if there's anything I wanted more than a friend, it was a girlfriend. My desire to be coupled has always been greater than that of a Jewish chick approaching 30. If you've read my site at all, I think it's pretty clear that I'm not exactly psychologically stable, and this is the incident where I first became aware of that.

I don't know if Matt & Leroy saw the glint in my eye, or the rush of life come over my face, but I think they new they had succeeded at that point. All of a sudden, these 20-minute-ago-strangers were my new best friends. "Oh, you should ask her out," they said. "Y'all would make a cute couple," they said. I was a sponge, soaking it up, 'cause now I had friends AND a girlfriend. I was king of the world. I guess I should have been wary of their grins and whispers to each other, but I was too happy.

Now, I'm gonna spare you the details, because 12 years later, it's quite hard to remember them all. I can tell you there was an awkward approach made to Amani, I was rebuffed, and didn't really know what to do next. Unfortunately, I'm not just crazy, but also tenacious. Somewhere along the line, Matt & Leroy laughingly admitted that they made the whole thing up just to pass the time in study hall. The sad thing is that the mind is a tricky bitch. Over the course of time, I had grown to really like Amani. She was smart, I thought she was cute (disclaimer: 8th grade Amani wasn't exactly "bomb", but I can't talk since I was a butterball with halitosis), and she was like queen of the Black girls in our class. I could be dating a queen! Even though the jig was up, I was really into this girl. And that's where the trouble started.

You see, I was just learning how great of a weapon guilt could be. Somehow, I started gaining friends, but they were all of the female variety. No, that was NOT a good thing. You see, I would take Amani's rejection pretty hard. I don't know what happened, but I pretty much established an "Urkel/Laura Winslow" relationship between she and I. As I amassed these female friends, I would just dump all of my woe and misery and whatnot on them, and they'd feel sorry for me. I'd feel empowered, and somehow this would all make its way back to Amani. That was the plan. I was gonna guilt her into loving me. And it almost worked. She surrendered. We had an illustrious 5-day relationship (counting weekends). Then, she decided she "just wanted to be friends", but remember how I said I was tenacious? I know I said that this started in 8th grade, but it persisted on through the 11th grade. Yup. THAT long. And that's who I came to be: "the guy sweating Amani", depending on your vernacular.

Why do I hate this whole situation? Because I resorted to self-deprecation to get something that I never knew I wanted until someone told me I did. Did that make sense? You see, there's so much more to me than that. I can be funny, caring, a good friend, etc. There are a handful of people from that era who know this. But my general persona was "the pathetic guy". I was a joke, and even teachers were in on it. They would laugh, or say "just give up already"; thanks for the vote of confidence, teachers! I'd like to think I was the class clown, but they weren't laughing with me. And somewhere along the line, I started to see that pathetic guy, as well. I can't blame Matt & Leroy; they were just acting their age and having fun. I blame myself because I was too stupid to realize that I was "young and stupid." You're not going to fall in love and marry your 8th grade sweetheart, and the rest of the problems in your life won't go away by thinking you are. There was so much change going on at that time, including the Russia trip. I was out seeing the world, yet internalizing everything in a way that made Pathetic Will a reality. But eventually, I GOT the girl. No pressure or anything. It just happened. But that's when you find that having isn't as good as wanting. And that's where I think I'll pick up tomorrow.

Posted by William @ 1/30/2007 06:20:00 PM
permalink | 4 comments

 

"But we've just lost the beat."

I've always had a thing for watches. Carrie Bradshaw has her Manolo's, and I've got whatever Fossil/Casio/Timex catches my eye. Sure, we're talking low price points here, but that's how I roll.

Now, as far back as I can remember, I was into watches. When I was 2, Mommy bought me a Ronald McDonald watch. I had some sort of tantrum, and destroyed in the foyer of our house. When she questioned me about it, all I could say was, "Well, he was fat, anyway." She vowed not to buy me a new watch, but I had a Michael Jackson watch soon afterwards.

After Daddy died, I had a Knight Rider watch. Man, did I love that watch. If I remember correctly, it didn't even tell time. It was fake and plastic, but it had a picture of K.I.T.T. inside, and that's all I needed.

Recently, I've come to notice that I get new watches to signify new phases in my life. For some miraculous reason, it becomes "new watch time" whenever there's a sort of shift in the things in my life. Now, sometimes "new watch time" is signalled by a dead battery. Let me let you in on a little secret: I don't change watch batteries. I just buy a new watch. So far, the batteries have lasted for years, and they tend to die at just the right time.

In middle school, I had my Radio Shack calculator watch. Yup, I was THAT kid. But I loved that watch, with its calendar function and "deet-deet" alarm. I was a geek, but I didn't care. At that point, I didn't much care what people thought of me because I knew I was kind of weird and I was fine with that. I was my own best friend and I had my imagination to keep me company.

In high school, I went through several different watches, mainly because none of them really held much meaning for me. I was trying to settle on watches as I tried to figure out who I was. Honestly, though, high school was NOT this time of angst that people make it out to be. In all truth, I expected it to be like 'Saved by the Bell", and was disappointed when it was NOT like that. Either way, I didn't have the growing pains of not being asked to dances, or learning to drive. Life is like the lottery: you've gotta be in it to win it, and I decided to sit it out. My high school weekends involved me watching tapes of pre-recorded TNBC while talking on the phone to my friends while they were out living their lives.

In college, I had 2 watches that come to mind. When I first went to school, I had this really bootleg musical watch that Mommy really pushed on me at City Place. Now, I liked the watch and all, but it had a big G clef on the face, and little notes for each hour. I was emerging from a few years playing piano, and it was pre-a cappella. If anything, I was in my musical theatre phase. The watch, though it sounds kinda gay, was actually nice. The downside, though, was that I felt a musical watch should PLAY music. It didn't have a little song, so I felt gypped. Anyway, I got the watch and wore the HELL out of it. By Christmas (maybe 6 months after buying it), the band had worn off (thanks City Place!).

I came home for Christmas, and Mommy bought me a Relic watch from JC Penney. "Relic" was basically a generic "Fossil", but it was a beautiful watch. Oddly enough, it had a blueish-green face which matched the stone in my class ring. It was like my accessories had been destined to be together. It's funny because we HATE Penney's, but sometimes what you're looking for is where you least expect it. Anyway, I wore that watch for the rest of Cornell and through graduation. In fact, I wore it up until about 6 months ago.

Now, a few people might know this, but 2004 was pretty rough for me. In a LOT of ways. Hell, you can go back and read the archives. Sometimes, I don't know whether to laugh or cry. Anyway, I was working at H&M and it's a freaky place. It's not simply retail, but instead it's this weird, neo-hippy, bohemian enclave that happens to sell clothes. I decided , "Hey, I'm gonna ride this opportunity til the wheels fall off", so I started crafting "H&M Will". Part of that involved a Fossil leather cuff watch. Now, I never would've looked twice at the thing 4 years ago, but at this point, I felt it would complete the ensemble. Several returns, fitting room shifts, and gay bars later, I realized that I didn't really like that world so much. Plus, I felt it was a lesson that I shouldn't have traded up watches "before it was time".

Unfortunately, while lost in the world of leather, my pretty, blueish Relic died on me. It died on me when I needed it most. I was working in the illustrious commercial real estate industry as the world's worst telemarketer. I didn't know how I got there, nor did I know how to get out. Everything was changing around me, but I felt stuck. And my accessories didn't match anymore. The high school ring had given way to the Cornell ring. For some reason, I decided that I didn't like the traditional A.D White ring and designed my own, with black onyx. It had always clashed with the pretty watch, but it went quite well with the leather cuff. And that didn't sit right with me. I always wanted to have class, be a little GQ, but now I felt very "gloryhole". And it didn't help that I didn't know what I wanted to be or how to get there.

Finally, prayers were answered, and "it was time". Not only did I gain my emancipation, but I also fell into my dream industry: comics. As a brand manager, I would have to be a figurehead at cons and whatnot, and there's a certain emphasis on appearance. Suddenly, I knew it was time to do something about the leather cuff. I wasn't really that person anymore, nor did I want to be. Right before my birthday, I was looking through a magazine, and I fell in love. Right there, I saw a attractive, black Fossil with a diamond at 12 o'clock. No, re-read what I wrote: It was an attractive, black fossil with a diamond at 12 o'clock. For all of you English majors out there, that's what you call metatext, so I'm not going to ruin your analysis. I had to have it, and actually bought it for myself before buying most of the presents I needed to buy for my family; hey, I'm an only child!

The watchband was actually too large, and I needed to take a few links out for it to fit better. Yesterday, I finally got around to getting the links taken out. It was at that time that I realized I hadn't really tried the watch on. Sure, I'd sampled it, but what can you tell from that? I was left with the feeling that it was more beautiful, more attractive on paper than on my wrist. Sure, I could grow into it. As Mr. Humphries would say, "It'll ride up with wear". Either way, as I sit here typing this, I look down at my attractive, black Fossil with the Diamond at the top, and I wonder if it's really for me. Maybe it was meant to stay on paper. I hope I don't come to regret my new watch/phase of life. Regrets...that's a topic we'll revisit tomorrow.

Posted by William @ 1/29/2007 06:32:00 PM
permalink | 2 comments

 

"I got a li'l change in my pocket, going jing-a-ling-a-lang..."

So, it has come to my attention that not everyone reading this site exactly knows who I am. In the beginning, I wrote this thing for Jen, James, Austin, and Tarek. Over time, I gained a few, lost a few, and now I think I'm the only one who reads the thing regularly. Anyway, last week, one of my clients told me that he'd found my site and he liked my grasp on pop culture. Immediately, I asked, "What site?" He replied, "Your website." Still not believing him, I asked, "Umm...how did you find that?" He answered, "Well, I just googled "Diamond" and your name." Yup, that phony press release I wrote a few months back will now be my undoing. I could delete it, but it would still come up in the Google cache.

So, I realize that I've been in shock jock mode lately. I write things just because I think them, and have a desire to see them in print. Still, not everyone would like to know that my weakness is "titties", so I've decided that on this, the 3rd anniversary of williambrucewest.com, I'm going to try to personalize things a bit more. If anything, it might get me started on that book I've been meaning to write. I still might have the usual banter, but I'm in a weird place right now, and I've got some stuff to get off my chest. Anyway, that's what's on the menu for the next week or so...

Posted by William @ 1/29/2007 06:24:00 PM
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"D to the E to the L-I-C-I-O-U-S"

Behold, the most awesome thing I have read in some time:
http://the-isb.blogspot.com/2007/01/chronicles-of-solomon-stone.html
This is truly the type of writing to which I aspire.

Posted by William @ 1/23/2007 07:38:00 PM
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"I'm English, go on, deport me."

An Open Letter to Dr. Cliff Huxtable:

Dear Dr. Huxtable,
It has come to my attention that your skills in medicine are questionable, at best. Why do I say this? Well, Dr. Huxtable, you endured medical school, did your residency, and you have established a nice life for yourself and your family. But that's just it; let's talk about your family for a minute, Dr. Huxtable. After observing you all for over 20 years, I am shocked that you never once realized that 2 of your daughters, as well as your granddaughter, are half White.

Now, I've seen the rest of your family, Dr. Huxtable. To borrow from Maury Povich, I know that you are NOT those kids' father. Now, Olivia is actually a step-grandchild, so we don't know what the deal was with her mom. That Navy guy could've pulled into port and gotten any Becky or Laura pregnant. No, Dr. Huxtable. My beef is with YOU!

How can you just play dumb and assume that you are the father of Denise and Sandra? I was never good at biology (I always felt that there was more gravity to physics! bah-dum-dum!), but I think I get how this works. Now, we can go the whole dominant vs. recessive gene route, but I've seen you, and I've seen Mrs. Huxtable. And I regret to break it to ya, but your wife succombed to "The Fever" about 30 years ago. Now, I've seen your wife's sister; If you'd slet with Debbie Allen, that would begin to explain things. Wait...is that it? DID you sleep with Debbie Allen? Because that REALLY would explain things!

But for now, I call shenanigans! If you think I'm dumb enough to fall for this ruse, you've got to think twice, Dr. Huxtable. However, if you honestly believe that those two girls are your kids, well I think I'll be finding another doctor. I wonder how I can get in touch with that Dr. Harry Weston...

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,
Will West

Posted by William @ 1/18/2007 05:27:00 PM
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"The following takes place between the hours of 7:00 PM and 8:00 PM"

I'm beginning to accept my love for Jack Bauer. No, I'm truly in love with the man.

I've realized that Jack Bauer could pretty much have sex with me, and by the fact that Jack can do no wrong, it wouldn't even be "gay". I'd probably be ruined for all others, but he would sneak up behind me with that gruff voice of his, and say, "My name is Jack Bauer, and I am a federal agent." He'll probably go on and on about a bomb, and some terrorists, and name some dude whose name can't be pronounced without hocking up a little something.

He'll point his gun at the back of my head, or at least, he'd tell me it's a gun. And then he'll force me to the ground. Before I know what's was happening, he'll have a knife shoved in my kneecap, as he prepares to cut off my pinky with bolt cutters. The whole time, he's yelling and screaming, "Where is it?!! Tell me where it is!" And as you could imagine, that's just getting me all hot! I mean, I am totally swept up in the hotness that is Jack by this point.

Maybe as he's performing a full cavity search, he'll see the yearning in my eyes. And then it's gonna be on like Donkey Kong. But like I said, it wouldn't be gay. I'd just be serving my country. When it's all over, he'll quickly roll off me to answer his cell, muttering something about, "Yessir, Mr. President." That's my Jackie, always thinking about work!

As I get up off the floor, readjusting my Dockers, I'll be killed by a sniper who was actually gunning for Jack, but well, them's the breaks for anyone who dares get involved with a federal agent. With my dying breath, I tell myself that I knew what I was getting myself into, and it was all worth it. Every last inch and minute of it. And as I close my eyes for the last time, I think, "I sure hope nobody thinks this was gay...'cause it wasn't...for reals..."

Posted by William @ 1/17/2007 06:56:00 PM
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"Thank you, Chuck Norris!"

And THIS is why I don't miss a cappella:

http://sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2007/01/10/BAGPQNG2MM1.DTL

New Year's nightmare for visiting Yale singers
- Phillip Matier, Andrew Ross
Wednesday, January 10, 2007

How's this for an only-in-San Francisco story:

Members of the Baker's Dozen, the renowned, all-male a cappella singing group from Yale, are pummeled outside a New Year's Eve party after singing "The Star-Spangled Banner."

The attackers allegedly include graduates from Sacred Heart Cathedral, one of the city's oldest and best-known private schools.

The attack happens outside the home of two prominent San Francisco police officers -- former mayoral bodyguard Reno Rapagnani, now retired, and his wife, Leanna Dawydiak -- who were both accused and later cleared of leaking internal SFPD personnel documents during the Fajitagate debacle.

As if that weren't enough, the dean of Yale College has weighed in, as has one of the victim's fathers, Sharyar Aziz -- a prominent New York banker whose son's jaw was busted in two places. He has not only called the mayor's office and police chief -- he's also retained the law firm Gonzalez (as in former mayoral candidate Matt Gonzalez) and Leigh to keep the heat on the cops and make sure "the individuals behind this heinous assault (are) apprehended."

As Rapagnani tells it, his 19-year-old daughter was hosting a New Year's Eve party at the family's Richmond District home for the Baker's Dozen, who were in town as part of a West Coast tour.

The 16 singers showed up late to the party wearing preppy sport jackets and ties, and launched into "The Star-Spangled Banner."

A couple of uninvited guests started mocking them, and allegedly the words "faggot" and "homo" were tossed -- and so were a couple of punches.

The loud noise drew relatives from next door, who promptly ordered the house cleared.

The Yale kids, most of whom were staying with a family a block away, began heading home.

But witnesses said one of the uninvited guests -- who happens to be the son of a prominent Pacific Heights family -- pulled out his cell phone and said, "I'm 20 deep. My boys are coming."

According to Rapagnani and others, the Yale kids barely made it around the corner when they were intercepted by a van full of young men.

"They were surrounded, then tripped -- and when they were on the ground, they were kicked," Rapagnani said.

According to police reports, the cops arrived about 12:40 a.m. to find 20 people fighting in the street.

To the police, who were out in force to keep a lid on New Year's, it looked like just another drunken brawl.

But according to Rapagnani, "This was not a fight -- it was an attack."

Four of the alleged assailants were detained at the scene, then released after the cops took their names.

Meanwhile, Sharyar Aziz Jr. was taken by paramedics to San Francisco General Hospital, and later had to undergo reconstructive surgery in New York for a broken jaw that will remain wired shut for eight weeks.

Another unidentified Yale student sought treatment for a concussion, and a third for a swollen ankle and other abrasions.

Yale Dean Peter Salovey told the school paper that he was "shocked and appalled" by the incident, which has yet to yield an arrest.

Police spokesman Sgt. Neville Gittens said the investigation was continuing and that more people still needed to be interviewed.

Now authorities want the Yale students -- who have left San Francisco and will soon be back in school -- to return to the city to identify their attackers.

But dad Aziz said arranging their return won't be easy.

"The kids are scared s -- less of coming back to San Francisco,'' he said. "I'm just really frustrated.''

Special thanks to T for the link!

Posted by William @ 1/15/2007 02:31:00 PM
permalink | 1 comments

 

"My wife's vajeen hangs loose like sleeve of wizard."

Mark my words: In one year, pop will be back in full force. No, I don't mean that dreck that's currently on Top 40 stations. I mean pure, unadulterated, don't-worry-about-the-lyrics, bubblegum pop. Hell, we might even get a few boybands out of it.

And you know who's gonna be responsible for it? The Disney Channel. More specifically, "High School Musical".

Now, I haven't had the pleasure of watching this movie, but I hear it's the best thing since sliced bread. Apparently, if you pause at 00:03:16, you can even see Jesus in the background! No, that's a lie, but you'd think it were true considering all the press this movie gets.

For a movie that has only been in existence for a year, it has been released on DVD 3 different times! No, not three different release dates; there are 3 different versions of this thing in stores, and they all sell like Disney's going out of style. 1.2 million copies were sold of the first version, within 6 days of its release! The soundtrack has gone TRIPLE PLATINUM! That's 3 million copies of a soundtrack to a made-for-TV movie! A stage show, complete with original cast, has been touring the country for months!

While I haven't seen the movie, I HAVE seen enough talk show appearances, Disney 365 specials, and random commercial break music videos to know what's going on. The songs these kids are singing are pretty much the same thing that sold gangbusters back in '99. Add to that the fact that they're being sung by beautiful White kids and Halfies, and you've got the recipe for pop success.

You may laugh at me now, but in a year, you're going to be hearing nothing but Corbin Bleu on the radio. Hell, I thought that was a sandwich at Wendy's, but High School Musical has taught me the error of my ways. As we've learned before, all it takes is one to open the door. Backstreet Boys were so influential that every White kid with 4 more guy friends put together a boyband. ESPECIALLY if they lived within driving distance of Orlando.

So, a year from now, when you're watching MTV and thinking to yourself, "Wow, Justin Guarini got younger and cuter", just remember that Will brought it to ya first!

Posted by William @ 1/08/2007 07:07:00 PM
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"This is America: Speak Spanish!"

Recently, I was thinking about the power of song. More specifically, I was thinking about how there are things that you can say through song that you just can't fit into everyday conversation. Primary example: "I'd die for you".

Seriously, you just can't walk up to a person and say "I'd die for you." I mean, you could be married 20 years, and there's still no legitimate way to work that into conversation. It's just plain awkward. And if you're like me, you'd probably say it at the wrong time:

"It's OK, baby. If you swallow real quick, you won't even taste it. Aw, don't be mad! You know I'd die for you, right?"

"Baby, if you'd listened the first time, you wouldn't be in this mess. Now, get on up off that floor! I love you, girl. You know I'd die for you!"

"I swear that ain't my kid! I only did her once. You can't get pregnant for doing it once, can you?! Oh man...you know I'd die for you, right? Baby? Baby?"

But you just know, if someone came up to you with a gun, and said, "Give me yo' woman, or I'm gon' cap yo' ass!" You'd instantly say, "Take her! Do whatever you want! Shit, you like dudes? You can take me, too!"

Now, if only someone would fit "You like dudes? You can take me, too" into a song. Well, maybe if Sisqo puts out another single...

Posted by William @ 1/08/2007 06:24:00 PM
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"God's last name is NOT 'dammit'!"

I'm beginning to realize that I'd be the worst superhero ever. No, not because of my lack of powers or physique. Rather, my downfall would be my particular weakness: titties.

I swear, you could rob Fort Knox, kill the Pope or destroy the moon; you show me some nipple and I'm probably gonna let you go. No, I guarantee I'm going to let you go.

And I'm not saying that you have to have huge, pornotastic jugs. I even like little gymnast breasts. The point is that any and all chestage is gonna get you off the hook. And that's simply NOT "heroic". Not to mention the fact that I'd probably be slapped with a discrimination suit for only arresting and beating up men.

I mean, I'd be the only hero who couldn't go near Mardi Gras. Or European art museums. Or libraries with particular issues of National Geographic....

Posted by William @ 1/08/2007 05:58:00 PM
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