Working in Alaska

For some reason, I thought it would be a good idea to come to Alaska for the summer to work. On paper it sounded like a great plan. All I have to do is work hard and I’ll come home with a healthy stack of money. Initially, my mentality was, “If they can do it, so can I. How hard could it be?” Boy was I in for a surprise.

First of all, let me define who “they” are. I work with 4 types of people. Filipinos, Somalians, and Mexicans account for 95 percent of the seasonal workforce, here in Naknek, AK. The other 5 percent of us happen to speak English as our first language. Regardless of our language barriers, everyone is here to work. Everyone knows what they got themselves into. Arguably, except me.

The company I work for is called Trident Seafood. I’m not on a boat, although I might be on one soon. I’ll talk about that when it happens. I currently work as a seafood processor on shore. Basically we form an assembly line to go from a fully alive salmon to a canned processed food ready for consumption.

I can tell you after only five days working here I have fillet more fish than the average sushi chef ever will in his lifetime. It’s not like I have to de-gut a fish every 15 seconds (I get paid the same regardless of my speed), I just do it to give myself a challenging goal to think about, otherwise I’ll fall asleep.

Speaking of sleep, we don’t get much of that. I work from 11pm to 3pm the next day. There’s one 30 min break for breakfast and two 10 minute short breaks for the entire 16 hour shift. When it ends you have less than 8 hours to eat, shower, wash clothes, sleep, etc. before the next shift starts. This goes on 7 days a week. I have experienced my first hallucinations working out here, something I thought to be impossible for me. I get so tired I’m literally working while half asleep. My brain must be confused because, often while I’m awake, these weird images (hallucinations) will start to appear in front of me. This morning I was cutting a butterfly’s head off, then its wings, and the guts. Once I began to lose my balance, I was awoken by my reflexes, and I looked at the fish in my hand. It was done. So I set it down onto the moving conveyer belt and grabbed another butterfly to fillet.

As for the pain. IT IS FUCKING INSANE. My hands, feet, arms, legs, and back are so sore I feel like an old man going through heroin withdrawals. What’s weird is even though I feel like I’m going to die at the end of each and every shift, I still wake up and go in the next day. I have to. It’s why I’m here. It’s the best and worst idea I’ve ever had. Best idea because I’ll come home with over 10 grand in less than two months. Worst because I’m changing.

Americans are so used to getting paid for essentially doing jack shit. Stand there and take his money. Sit there and answer phones. Eight hour work days, an hour lunch, mandatory breaks, sick pay, vacations, saturdays, sundays, free time. We have so much to complain about, don’t we?

I’m cutting into my sleep schedule writing this. If it wasn’t for clocks I wouldn’t even know what day it was. The sun hardly ever goes down. It’s dark for like 3 hours each day, between 1am and 4am, as far as I can tell.

It’s comical thinking back at how people thought I’d be going on some grand adventure when I told them I was going to Alaska for the summer. You could see the dazzle in their eyes as they imagined icebergs and polar bears. Take pictures they said. There really isn’t much to see. There’s no icebergs or polar bears. But there are grizzly bears. Typically if you’re close enough to take a picture of a grizzly, with your smartphone, you’re not going to live to talk about it. I haven’t even seen one anyway. Which is a good thing since I’m pretty sure my black ass looks like a fucking nigger seal. Bears like nigger seals.

Right now my best picture is of the Time Bandit. It ported here to sell its catch of salmon. I really don’t know too much else about it except that it’s a boat featured on the Deadliest Catch. I don’t watch the show.

Excuse me for not ending on something witty or interesting. I really just want to sleep.

Those with the biggest hearts, suffer the most.

Imagine a world where we humans mourned everytime we heard about someone passing away, as if they were a close friend. What if our hearts ached for people we met for a brief moment only to never be seen again? How would it feel if those memories never faded no matter how many years had passed?

The world’s over population problem would be solved, that’s what would happen. And I’d be the first to go.

I am supposed to be happy today. I got admitted, officially, to the top uni for my major. My tuition and personal expenses will be paid for completely, with your tax money btw (25k/yr), and I won’t even have to pay it back. Instead, all I can think about is what I’m leaving behind.

Will I ever be happy? I’m not so sure anymore. I once believed, I’ll graduate and meet someone worth meeting. What happens if I already met her, but life’s plans got in the way? It would be stupid to quit now. But it feels even stupider to continue.

Statistics say engineer majors are the least happiest students in college, but in the workplace we are the happiest (teachers and retail workers were the least happy). So there’s a light at the end of the tunnel. Except, I’m willing to bet those engineer students are simply happy because they were socially awkward before, and now that they graduated, money transformed their persona. I’m not so sure I fall under this category.

Still, it’s a great opportunity, and I’ll have regret either way…

I’m surrounded by idiots, and I’m one of them

Last night (Saturday) one of my supposed long time friends wouldn’t stop blowing up my phone with text messages. I tried to tell his dumb ass “I’m studying” but, apparently, it didn’t get through his thick skull. He kept trying to invite me over to watch some UFC fight and a following boxing match, with him and his wife. Turning off the cell wasn’t exactly an option either, since I’m a private tutor. So on he went about how fun it’d be, and how I deserved a break from always studying (hardly). My persistence in ignoring him was just about to look promising right until I got hungry. He did say there would be food. Fuck. They got me. I’m a sucker for free food.

So there I sit, at his house, munching on a pizza with my laptop in front of me, still trying to study, when him and his wife scream at me, to look at the screen…something about an old guy I didn’t recognize. “OH MY GOD, how do you not know him? He’s only the most famous voice announcer in history”, his obnoxious wife blabbered. I would mutter a response, return to my work, until the next interruption. This continued, each time my responses were short and slightly inattentive, until finally they’ve had enough. His wife, Jessica, got my attention by probing me with the question, “Anthony, do you believe in God?”

I laughed, looked up and curtly replied, “Trust me, you do not want to talk to me about God”.

Her eyes widened in shock, and then narrowed in anger, as if I’d just murdered a puppy. She takes a huge breath before exploding, “Look at you! You’re always so depressed. You need God! You’re never happy”.

“You’re right. I’m not the happiest person on earth right now, but being ignorant will not make ME happier. Just chill out with the God talk already.” I warned. It had begun to escalate out of my control.

Jessica’s a big girl, and she thinks she’s intimidating because she kick boxes. She decided not to drop it. “Oh, I’m so glad you came tonight. Now I know who you really are!” she said throwing the roundhouse kick that initiated the battle.

“Wait, so I’m a bad person because I know earth’s been around longer than 2000 years, and that the sun doesn’t revolve around earth?” I countered. I’m a boxer too. We continued on, round after round. I jabbed her with logic and she dodged it with ignorance. She even landed a few low blows by digging into my personal life, but it didn’t phase me, I already know I’m broken.

Finally, she stepped into my left hook when she contradicted herself. Feeling a victory I tried to finish her off, but then she did it, an illegal move, “I don’t need logic, because I have faith!”

I stared at her in disbelief. I couldn’t beat that. I dropped the conversation, said some fake words to put them at ease, thanked them for dinner, and left. Thanks for the break, Edgar.

These are my friends…not the only ones, but most of the other friend’s are similar in some way. All I can think is I’m surrounded by idiots, and I am one of them.

Hate

Piss off someone you love, because hate is her best motivator.

He’s a Coward

There are a lot of things he hates about himself. He hates the fact that he gets nervous when speaking in front of large crowds. He hates that he can’t dance, like a normal person. He hates that his skin color holds him back in so many ways. He hates being insecure. He hates that he can’t satisfy… her. He hates that he saw it coming, but tried to delay it by being nice. It’s very simple actually. He’s a fucking coward.

A coward is someone who is afraid to take risks. He knows he could do something about that, if he really tried, but something else tells him he was already trying too much. He needs a new approach. The stop giving a fuck approach. Do nothing, change nothing, simply give zero fucks. Wouldn’t that be something to aspire to? A glorified asshole. A typical dude.

But that’s not what he wants, nor should it be. He hates conforming to society’s norms. So what if it leads to a solitary life? He should embrace it. At least, he’ll have some self respect. Still… he’ll continue to get hurt, especially if he forget’s rule number one on how to treat a woman: Do not treat her nicely. She’ll fucking get bored of you, no excitement, no qualities to hate, so she’ll hate your niceness. She’ll miss being treated like shit, and beg to be treated like a slut. That’s like… a dude’s dream come true.

Someone better capitalize on that fast. She likes it raw and hard. Don’t forget to pull out, because she won’t take those things that give headaches, only those things that take it away. Actually, he’s sure someone already took his place. She is… insanely beautiful, after all.

So what if she reminded him about what was so special with love? She also reminded him why he even avoided it. It’s not fucking worth it. Nothing is.

 

Thief

If I could rid the earth of just one type of person, it would have to be a thief. Thieves are the worst kind of people. When they lie, they steal someone’s right to the truth. When they cheat, they steal the right to fairness. When they kill, they steal a person’s right to live.

Being black and dumb

You know why racism exists? It’s because people are fucking stupid. Black people, especially. Hey… I can say this because I am, in fact, black. I am a fucking nigger. Awesome. Big whoop-dee-do.

“We’re not all stupid,” some might say. I say, “quit fucking lying to yourself.” I am an engineering college student. I get decent grades. Just good enough to get accepted to a top UC, but I often wonder why they even accepted me? My academics aren’t very competitive. Maybe they’re simply lowering the bar, for us, so we can make it. That has to be it!

Obviously, I am smarter than my black peers, but I am still fucking stupid in comparison to the rest of the population. Let me give you an example on what it’s like to think black. I’m sitting in class looking at the teacher explain a new topic. He is talking and I’m listening right up to the point where he introduces a new concept. Now I can do one of two things. I can continue listening and try to think about what he is saying, or I can write it down and try to understand it later. I tend to choose the latter option simply because experience tells me, even if I understand what he says (unlikely), I will forget it later. So it’s “beneficial” that I remain completely lost during the entire lecture and just take good notes.

You do not want to be a colleague sitting next to me. Trust me. Students will often turn to me and say “What did he just say? I was reading a text message.” I just look at them and say “Uhh, I’m sorry I didn’t catch it.” After a few more times of this happening, they stop asking.

I can only conclude I can’t follow like everyone else because black people are less intelligent. Sure, we can speak and write well, if educated, and some say that is a sign of intelligence. I beg to differ, a ten year old white child can sound more educated than most fully-developed African American males. I say male because women are a different animal, black or white, I have no idea what goes in their head, and thus shouldn’t jump to conclusions.

Another example of our sub-par intelligence is how we think. All black males think about is sex. They say all males think that way. Sure, that may be the case for a small portion of the non-black population, but it is no where near the majority of how we think. Anytime a woman walks by, I look. Once at the face, and again at the ass. I’ve trained myself to not look. But my mind is still thinking about what I might see if I did look.

The other thing we always think about is food. I am always hungry. Why are most stereotypes of blacks about what food we eat? It’s because we look like animals when we eat. It’s in our nature. I can’t fucking help it. If I see some chicken (really any meat), I go nuts. I took psychology. I know what this means. Sex and Food are controlled by the limbic system, basically the instinct part of the brain. All animals think this way. The fundamental sign of intelligence is being able to reason away from just sex and food. We don’t do that too well.

One more thing. Have you ever heard of a black genius? Go ahead and Google it. They don’t exist. Our “genius” is simply being able to keep up with the rest of the world. I am sick and tired of being black and dumb.