Let us now take a look into the life of Jared Stephanidis. Likely he is still asleep at this time; the man never was the best at managing mornings. Not that it matters, for we do not require him to be conscious for our examination.
Jared is a man three fourths through his twenty seventh year of life, a fact he desperately refuses to admit to himself. He has the unshaven, sunken eyed look of a man who has experienced far too many long nights with far too many cups of coffee and cigarettes. In his mind, he imagines that he looks like an artist; in the minds of everyone else who sees him, he’s just a man who needs to get a haircut and spend some more time outside.
In fact, one could claim that the conflict between Jared’s artistic self imagery and the reality of his world is what forms much of his life. Most of the meager salary he earns is spent acquiring tickets to the most fashionable and up to date art galleries and shows, which Jared sits through and pretends to understand. He will often speak of how deep the works of Kandisnky are, but the moment he is confronted by an expert in expressionist art he finds the conversation quickly leaving his depth of knowledge. Throughout his apartment are scattered collections of various paintings he spent months, some years, carefully creating, which he continues to naively believe will one day be bought. Were it not for his apparent inability to feel smugness, most would find him intolerable; instead, his childlike eagerness and constant look of worry more often elicit pity.
For the past several months, he had been living in his apartment with his girlfriend Rose, but she left him three weeks ago, claiming that they needed some time “on their own.” More likely she simply could not stomach the thought of having to smile and act flattered while listening to him nervously stutter his way through another of his poorly crafted poems. Jared still hasn’t gotten over this terrible “tragedy”, and tries to cope by putting his emotion into what may be his worst work yet.
Outside of his hopeless aspirations, Jared’s social circle is mostly confined to those at his work and the people he meets at the coffee shops during the odd hours of the day. He is always friendly and personable to those willing to speak with him, quick to offer support or advice, yet he has an innate talent at being forgettable. If he was ever picked last for the dodgeball team in high school, it was in no way because of malice directed towards him, but simply a result of being constantly overlooked in favor of those with more interesting personalities.
But it would seem that his third alarm has just gone off, and today that is the one which finally brings him out of his slumber. Out of bed now Jared, that’s a good boy. You can’t keep our players waiting. Time to face the day.