Auf Wiedersehen October

So, I got a call this evening, somewhere after six, and it was an offer to take my shift tomorrow. I did the math in my head: leaving at that moment, I’d get to The Bay by eight; being very, VERY generous, I'’d find my brother’s place by nine; I bet the party would peter out by midnight. I’'d sleep, wake-up, and fight evil daylight traffic for a whole three hours of visiting, if I was lucky. Sorry bro, but that just isn't worth it. I guess I can aim for a few days off in January to spend a few days in The Bay, if one of the brothers has a parking space I can borrow for that time, do you?

--onward--

After work today, I stopped by the store to get some candy, just In case the kiddies decided to stop by. Only one did. He wore some sort of army thing. Maybe he was G.I. Joe, or something. I gave him four peanut butter cups. The rest are on the coffee table. If the Roommate doesn'’t eat them before I get back from work (or school, depending), they’re going in the freezer because I think chocolate is better frozen and peanut butter is good any time.

--onward--

Also, after work, I spent money that I had no good reason to spend, but I figured, since I wasn't going to The Bay, I should do something that I want. I bought the first season of Popular. I doubt many of you know this show, but I liked it. I watched a few of my favorites tonight. For me, I spent my money well. I hope to laugh some more, tomorrow.

--onward--

The festival is long over. The Day of the Dead is nigh. Egg nog starts being served tomorrow. Truly, the “holiday” season come earlier each year.

So long, October.

Listen...

...to the best political ad, ever.

What If...?

A couple of days ago, I started reading the newest book by Margaret Weis and Tracy Hickman. It's good. Slow at the beginning because it's more about building the world than about major plot, which is the way many of their trilogies start. Now that I'm almost finished, the book has built to a point where it was hard for me to put it down, but I promised my brother that I'd find his monkey comics, and figured I'd better do it before I forgot.

Writing about the book wasn't really what I wanted to say, though. It's just a way to get on to the point. See in this book--which is fantasy, of course--the mages are also the holy men, the ones who commune with the Gods and value knowledge and wisdom. If the king in the books wasn't a scholar who loved his books, the mages would keep and revere the library. All mages, from novices to masters can be seen in the library reading the books and scribbling notes on sheets of vellum.

This got me to think about history.

I think that if I had been born a thousand or so years ago, I would have tried to become a monk of some kind. I hope that, born in that time period, I'd have the curiosity that I have now, wanting to know "Why?" about nearly everything. I've been imagining myself curled over a large oak desk, stained with years of wax dripped from candles, reading a huge tome filled with things I'd never imagined. I get careless with my own candle, dripping wax on the book, smearing it in my haste to clean the page. And then I scribble something down on a piece of something, anything at hand, maybe my hand. I think I'm clever, I've seen a connection that no one else has. I'm not sure how deep my faith in a higher power is, but I need some to continue to be around more knowledge than the average person could imagine.

It's not the greatest fantasy, I know, but it's an honest one. I don't hold to the illusions that time back then was really better for anyone (I like running water), but I like to think that instead of being a pushover--like the average person in any time period--I'd work to learn and understand and think; that I would have sought out the priest hood so I could do this learning.

Is that what would have happened? I don't know. Part of me doubts it and thinks I would be stuck doing what ever my father did before me.

It's fun to imagine.

Summed Up In One Word

This one's really about yesterday, but you understand, right?



And I was there for only five and a half hour (but was supposed to leave before five happened).

Fish Sticks and Other Things

So, I bought a box of fish sticks the last time at the store, big ones. The box proudly proclaims that it now contains "10% more." That brings the count up to 11. Is everyone impressed? I know that that 10% could keep a starving family fed, but I intend to eat it myself.

--onward--

Two weeks ago, I wrote this e-mail to a friend. Well, it was a response, actually. This e-mail included a lot of me bashing myself, even though it was totally off topic for the letter and I insisted that I didn't want a response about the me bashing stuff. For that, I'm sorry. (I recently reread the letter and feel like I was a complete ass for sending it.) I didn't mean to lay it all on you because no one really needs that kind of stuff thrown at them by people who claim to be a friend. Sorry, but I still don't need to read stuff for people that says "You aren't." or "You shouldn't think that way." or something else that tries to stop me from thinking about myself the way I think about myself.

See, I don't have, by anyone's terms, high self-esteem. I think I have a fairly realistic view of myself (here's me interviewing me, for those who missed it), in most ways, and the way I am and what I do (or don't do) in my life are not helpful to boost my esteem in myself.

My Dad would say something along that lines that we are who we want to be and if we want to be better than what we are then we have to work at it. We have to set realistic goals that will help us to become who we want to be. We have to work toward those goals and work hard. As long as we do that, we'll become the person we want, or an even better person than who we thought we wanted to be.

I'm not sure I believe that and I'm not going to try. For the most part, I'm comfortable with who I am. I think I have an understanding of who and what I am. I rarely get lonely because I can be a decent conversationalist when I'm comfortable with the person I'm talking to. I try not to be needy and don't grasp for emotional support from friends or family or strangers; I deal with it myself (or roll it into a big lump, swallow it, and let it live in the hole in my stomach). When I notice myself doing something that could potentially become OCD behavior, I do my best to stop it. I like babies (even if they do all look like insects until the age of one) and animal (many are quite tasty). And I hope for the best in everyone, but avoid them at most costs in case I'm wrong. Is that so wrong?

--onward--

I'm invited to my brother's Halloween party in the Bay this Sunday. I want to go, but am pretty sure I won't be able to. I don't know next week's schedule, but I usually open on Monday's (or go in a 5AM) because there are only two or three of us peons willing to cover that shift. Odds are, I'll be scheduled to be there early and won't be able to trade the day away. So which is more important: Going to party? or Getting money for rent and something that I really want to do?

Yeah, going to the party is more important, but I sort of need money. I think I'll stick with work and just write on my hand some more.

Uh-huh

Work Stuff

So, GWKMA was fired from 'Bucks on Saturday. I'm going to miss her. She was fun, even if she kicked me each time we worked together. She was also a good and hard worker.

"Why was she fired?" someone vaguely interested may ask.

She was fired because she was chronically late, on the days she didn't open. Not real late, usually between three and ten minutes. Enough time for every one to notice she was missing, but not enough time to have to try and call her and wake her up.

Well, The Manager and Assistant Manager #1 made this decision. (Assistant Manager #2 is in Europe, or just now flying back, and they even held a supervisor meeting without her. Were the things that they needed to talk about and make decisions about so important that they couldn't have waited until Tuesday? It seems strange to me that and Assistant Manager would be left out. Maybe I'm wrong.) Now we at the store are stuck with this decision.

If I had been out to fire someone, it would be the new guy who doesn't seem to want to work. Sure, he's a nice enough guy, but he's always late and he tries to trade away all his days. On Thursday, he called me to take his Saturday and, maybe trade Sunday with him. Sunday, I found out that he traded his Friday with someone, then showed up, at the beginning of what would have been his shift, to get his paycheck. Hell, his third day there, he was supposed to open with me and #2, but didn't show up. At five, we got a call and it was him, calling in sick. And he seems to take my lack of talking when we work together in a strange way and keeps asking me if I'm alright. I tell him the truth and say, "No, I'm at work. I'm not paid to be 'alright.'"

Sure, he's a decent fellow, but not someone I want there in a rush. Oh well.

Party On Down, Bitch

This evening, I made an effort. I went to a sort of birthday celebration for FLIG and GIESW. It was suppose to be mini-golf until 8ish, but it's been raining all day. So, it turned into drinking at GIESW's mother's house.

No, I didn't drink. I have a good reason not to, so I don't do it.

After, everyone, except for me, headed out to a bar to drink much, much more and dance the night away. I open tomorrow. I'm going to sleep.

The important think is, I made an effort.

Please, someone, be proud.

GAS!

I filled my car up today. $30 to fill the tank. This tank is only 13 gallons, when empty. It's funny to think that I was pissed when prices climbed over $1.50 a gallon.

I'm angry and hungry.

I need to cook.

Travel?

School Work

Anyone, other than me and my parents, interested in seeing the work I'm doing in school?

This is my favorite thing (click on it to see it much larger) I've done in the computer painting (or whatever it's called in the catalogue) class. We use a program called Painter and use a stylus to do the drawing. Even after two months, I'm not comfortable using a stylus. I'm less comfortable using it to draw than I am a regular pencil, but I'm doing it. That counts, right?

In today's updates: I jumped in five puddles which sent the water cascading in every direction. I also watched a woman, driving a car, creep up to a puddle, that was at least six inches deep, then peel out. She created quite a wave. Through the windshield, I could see her hysterically laughing. I applauded.

Voted

The worst thing about voting on an absentee ballot is not getting that keen sticker that says "I Voted" on it. I like those stickers. Sure, I just stick them to things that aren't actually me, but it nice. It's like going to the doctor and getting a balloon (or, if they're out of balloons, a blown-up glove) or going to the dentist and getting a cheap little toy. You get a reward for doing something that you should want to do. Voting absentee, you don't get that reward, you just get the time to research the ballot measure and the candidates as you vote, which is a luxury you don't get in the little booth thing.

I hope the rest of you, who are livin' in America, are gonna vote in fifteen days. If you get out there, you'll get a sticker.

Three in One

I was originally going to post these on three different days, but couldn't bring myself to be that cruel.

Here you go:







This happened a couple of months ago. It was the first non-insect animal I've killed with my car. Hopefully, it'll be the last.

Sorta Workin'

I've been working on this week's comics all day. I'm nearly finished, but have to go to work. So, this is all the post you get. However, comics will be up in the morning if I finish them after work. Cross your fingers. (If you like the strips, that is. If you don't, you don't have to.)

Of Cream and Soup

Entered the store after work today.

I needed supplies to complete the cooking of potato soup for dinner.

This part of the trip was a success. Items needed to complete soup procured. Soup cooked in the evening and consumed shortly after completion.

I also went in search of pumpkin ice cream.

This part of the trip was a failure. Ice cream flavored with pumpkin was not to be found in freezer section of store. When confronted with lack of pumpkin ice cream, guy in apron insisted that such a thing has never been made. I insisted that I ate too much of it when I worked at a sandwich shop that also served ice cream. I insisted that it tasted a lot like pumpkin pie, only creamier. Clerk look at me as if I was mad.

I walked to the register and paid for soup.

Search for pumpkin ice cream will continue.

ONE YEAR!

I've made it, a whole year blogging.

I've posted 274 times, including this one.

I've kept my friend's informed about my life, such as it is.

I've not improved anything about myself.

I've written much about many different things, but don't know how much I've actually said.

I've accomplished my goals, since I set none, they were very simple to achieve.

Work as I know it.

Here's a letter sent to my place of employment (and every other store in the district) from the District Manager:

Creating the experience that keeps
People coming back relies on the
Magical combination of three things:
Our Products, Our Places and Our People

They come for coffee, stay for the inviting
Warmth, and
Return for the Very Human Connection

No Go Ahead, Welcome your next New
Regular

I guess only five-year-olds work in the district he's in charge of.

Pennies From Earth

What do today's sky and the presidential debate have in common?

Today's sky was brown, which nicely matched the shit that came out of the candidates' mouths at the debate. I don't like these two guys any more than I did when it all started. In fact, I think I like them less. Does anyone else, who reads this and watched the debates, out there think it's sad that the debate between the Vice Presidential candidates had more substance than any of the other three? That was both a pleasant surprise, and a severe disappointment. American politics are confusing (and a bit stupid), but will effect the whole world, no matter what the other several billion people try to do.

*sigh*

One good thing came out of this final debate, I know who I'm voting for when my Absentee Ballot comes in the mail.

Schoolie

Today, I thought about not going to school anymore. I'm tired of the classes I'm taking this semester.

One class is making me do research on artists for "inspiration." This "inspiration" just makes me feel like a child. We had to draw still lifes for this class, mine looked like a four-year-old's pictures compared to the rest. The teacher liked the idea that I was using, but was not impressed with the actual artwork. I left very unhappy.

The other class requires a lot of outside work. I like the class. I like what we're doing. When I'm in front of the computer, building the models, the time disappears as if it were just an abstract notion created by man to force order on a chaotic universe. If the teacher doesn't lecture, the four-and-a-half hours of class are gone in an instant. If I had the program at the apartment, I don't think I'd be feeling so crushed. I could spend time after work on the projects, but I don't have it (cost $500+ for the student edition), so, if I want to work outside of class, I have to go to school and hope that there's room in the class for me to work.

I need someone out there to tell me that this is all for my own good, that it's a learning and growing experience, and that everything will get better. I need someone to do that so I can spit in his or her face and demand that he or she stop spreading such lies.

Yup.

Happy Birthday

Today is the birthday of the person who was the best friend I ever had. (I still like the rest of you, but it's not the same, trust me.) Which isn't to imply that we aren't friends now, we just don't talk often. Apparently, she hasn't been connected to the internet recently and the phone number I have from her hasn't been used for more than a year. I saw her in February, we had lunch with another friend while I was in Oakland. We rushed through lunch because she had to be to work an hour after the restaurant opened, but it was nice.

How about a little history?

Second Grade:
We met in second grade. We had the same teacher.

Once, pretty early in the year, while sitting next to her and her best friend (at the time) we all talked together, each trying to make the other two laugh. We wouldn't shut-up. The teacher warned us several times, but we wouldn't stop. I remember laughing so hard tears came to my eyes. We all had a wonderful time, until the teacher told us we had to stay inside at recess. This was the first time I'd ever been in trouble like this in my life. (The only other time that came close was when I was practicing putting my middle finger up under the lunch table in first grade. Some jerk ratted on me. The lunch teacher confronted me while I ate my sandwich and I lied, telling her that I wasn't doing anything of the sort, and how could anyone see what anyone was doing under the table anyway. She said she was going to call my Mom, but didn't.) At recess, the three of us stayed in while everyone else ran out. Soon, the teacher said that she had to go to the office to make some copies, but we were to stay. As soon as she left, the two girls stood up and headed for the door. They turned to me and urged me to come with them, that we could play and be back before the teacher came back. Like now, I was a coward and told them to go on without me. The-one-who-was-to-be-my-best-friend asked if I'd tattle on them. I promised I wouldn't and they ran out of the room, laughing. I sat at my desk, looking at a picture book I'd borrowed from the library, wishing I'd gone with them.

In the spring, I walked with my, then, best friend (I'd met him on the walk home from the bus stop my first day of school and we were close friends until his family moved away. Parents break up more great friendships than anything else, I think.) around the soccer field, talking and sharing my fruit snacks. The-one-who-was-to-be-my-best-friend came over and started to beg for snacks. I wasn't gonna give them up to a girl for free, no matter how funny she was, so I told her I'd give her one fruit snack for each bad word she knew. She looked at me like she didn't trust me and asked how many snacks I had. I pulled a second pouch out of my pocket (which I'd snuck out while my Mom was making lunch for my little brother and trying to get the other one to eat breakfast) and wagged it in her face. She made me and my friend promise to never tell anyone about this (Oops!), ever. When we had her convinced, she said okay and stared rattling off all the words she knew. To this day, I'm stunned at how many she said. She must have said at least forty words that a seven-year-old isn't supposed to say, ever. In the end, I just tossed her the whole, unopened pack and handed her the rest in the one that I had been nibbling out of. That was the moment I knew she would make a good friend.

Third Grade:
We didn't have the same teacher, so I only saw her at recess. I remember playing lots of tag with her, my friend, and all of her friends. When she was "it" and caught up to me, I usually got pushed hard enough so I'd stumble, sometimes fall into the sand. There was lots of laughing on those days.

Fourth Grade:
My elementary school had opened a second campus, which only had one fourth grade class, so there were only thirty of us. We all had to be friends. Even the bullies were less bullying because they could alienate themselves from everyone too easily.

I was invited to her birthday that year. I was told that other boys were invited, but when I got there, it was just me, her, and some other girls. (In fifth grade, I was invited to another girl's birthday party and was told that there wouldn't be any other boys. I didn't want to go and was fortunate that my parents had planned a trip to Grandparents house that weekend. I did give her some soaps as a gift the Friday before her party, though.) We went horseback riding. It was my first and last time, even though I had fun. We rode on the trails made by deer and children around the neighborhood. We even rode through the creek. After that, we walked from The Stables, on the same trails we had just ridden on, back to her house, where we ate too much cake and ice cream, watched Beetlejuice, after the movie her dad put on the Harry Belafonte song, "Day-O (Banana Boat Song)," and we all danced, wildly. Afterward, it was getting late, the girls were staying to spend the night, but I had to leave, unless I "wanted to spend the night as [her] brother's friend." I didn't. It was bad enough I had spent the whole day with girls, but what would everyone at school think of me if I spent the night at a girl's house with a bunch of other girls. I wasn't going to be the one to find out.

That year, I spent many weekends over at her house: playing in the creek, playing Nintendo (I kicked Duck Hunt's ass, even if I sucked at every other game), running around on the trails. The thing that really sticks in my head is the way her little brother (he has two older sisters) would hide behind furniture and pounce on me. I'd walk down the hall from the bathroom to the family room, just passing the couch, when the black haired midget would come soaring down from the ceiling, knocking me to the floor, laugh crazily, and run away. Or we'd be on the couch in the family room watching TV or playing games and he fall from the ceiling onto me and she'd laugh just as hard as he would.

Fifth Grade:
Her mom took her and put her at the main campus in the district because her mom thought the teacher would be better. I saw her after Christmas. She called and wanted to know if I wanted to ride bikes. I rode up then down the big hill to her house. She had a new bike, a three speeder. We rode over to the school, the only flat pavement nearby, and she let me ride her bike. I learned how to shift gears there and to put the chain back on the sprocket when I popped it off. At one point, we talked about movies we'd seen recently and she wouldn't stop talking about The Little Mermaid. At one point. I remember telling her that I thought I was too old for cartoons (This came from the kid who still enjoyed the occasional episode of Sesame Street.), but she wouldn't stop. "It's so cute," she said. "So wonderful. You have to see it. It's just amazing." Eventually, I did see it, and she was right.

Sixth Grade:
The satellite campus only went up to the fifth grade, so I was now being bussed back to the main campus. Something had changed between her and me, though. She had this large group of girls and they didn't want to have anything to do with me and, therefore, she didn't want to have anything to do with me. Of course, I had my own circle of friends, so it didn't matter. We didn't have the same teacher, so I never really saw her except for those few moments when my small group of boys would square off with her group of girls in a battle of words, hurling insults at each other from twenty paces, no one left those matches unscathed. There was this one time, when she and her brother, who was friends with my youngest brother, spent the night at my house (my other brother had a friend over, too). We all slept in the garage. She had brought her Goosebumps books with her and we read them out loud holding flashlights until the early hours of the morning.

Seventh and Eighth Grades:
Both years, I only had advanced math with her and her closest friends and my closest friends, the two groups made up one third of the class, and the insult matches got very out of hand in there. One time, I was reading a book that was pressed so some of the pictures had texture to them. She took the book from me and said that the only reason I was reading the book was because I like to feel the boobs of the girl on the cover. I took it back and said that I'm a guy and I'm supposed to, what's her excuse. The teacher separated us that day. At the dance, after graduation, she was one of the four girls I danced with.

Ninth Grade:
I had joined band, but didn't know how to play an instrument. My soon-to-be-best-friend had been playing since fifth grade (maybe private lessons in the fourth, I can't remember), but I had quit in the sixth because the saxophone I was playing kept breaking, I'd blow, but no noise would come out. It didn't even work for the teacher the day he got so mad at me he threw his baton across the room. She helped me to relearn how to read music. At football games, we sat near each other, but still with our instrument groupings, and yelled obnoxious things at both teams. By the end, we spent most of our free time, at school, together.

Tenth Grade:
During the first half of the year, we were in zero period PE (a co-ed class) and a class called World Cultures together. (She was in the most advanced band class because she was excellent, I was not, so I was in the normal band class.) World Cultures had the most boring teacher in the world teaching it. He spoke in a monotone voice that put everyone to sleep. Early on, I got a detention in his class and decided I didn't like him at all. (One day, he told the class to do their homework because he had nothing else to do. I had finished my work, so I decided to read the school paper. He saw me turning a page and gave me detention for disturbing the class. Asshole.) A month later, she got a detention. At the semester break, she told me she was getting out of his class and into another. I decided to do the same. I used my influence over one of the assistant principals (who had been my English teacher the year before) to get my schedule changed; I then shared PE (and she had joined our car pool to this early class), English, and Math with her. In the English class, the desks nearest her and my other friends were empty, so I sat right behind her. We were quickly separated because we never shut-up. Of course, when the teacher put me in the back left corner and her in the front right one it only encourage the occasional yelling across the room. The Math teacher was a hippy pot-head, so he didn't care how loud we were as long as we turned in our homework. By the end of that year, I thought of her as my best friend. (And through her, I made met most of the other people who I consider close friends still.)

* * *

Okay, enough with the history, I just wanted to show how our friendship developed, but got a little lost in my memories.

Here's what I really wanted to get to:

We were close. We did nearly everything together. I think that 9 out of every 10 movies I saw in high school were with her. When she got her license (I didn't get mine until I was nineteen), she was gracious enough, most of the time, to give me a ride to school in the mornings and a ride home in the afternoon. She even allowed my younger brother to come with us and got him to school in time for his zero period English class. Each time there was a break in classes, we hung out together, often with other people, but we sat next to each other and usually had our own private, stupid conversation going on only occasionally poking our heads up to throw out a comment that would make everyone else laugh. She was the person I had the most fun around, even if we did have the occasional argument, mostly about me taking her driving me home for granted. (One of those days I scared her by hopping on the bus without letting anyone know where I was going. Apparently, she waited for me until after the busses left, something no student wants to do, when one of our other friends told her he had seen me on the bus. Boy, did that piss her off.)

I never thought of our friendship as anything but.

Two months after I started working for 'Bucks (nearly two and a half years ago) a guy who I didn't care for in high school came into the store, with some girl hanging off his arm. He was just one of those ordinary jerks who expects everyone to agree that he's as great as he thinks he is.

He recognized me right away. "[ticknart], do you remember me?" he asked. "Do you know who I am?"

"Yes," I said, hoping this wouldn't take long, "but the last time I saw you're hair was out to here and your beard out to here." His head had been shaved.

"Yeah, I was a real mountain man for a while," he chuckled. "How's [your best friend]?"

"She's doing good. She's a nurse. Likes her job. Makes lots of money."

"Good, good. So," he grinned, "have you two gotten married yet?"

"What?" The question caught me off guard. I must have looked horrified. "N-no, why would you think that we would get married?"

"Well, you were always together, you know, hanging out. Always. When you weren’'t in class, I don't think I ever saw the two of you apart. I just assumed that you were, you know, going out, and stuff."

"No," I said, shaking my head, my cheeks flushed. "No, we were only friends. None of that funny stuff. Just friends."

"That’s too bad. We all need a good woman at our side." He winked, pulled the girl close to him, and they walked out together.

I sat down on the floor, hard.

I thought about what he said and came to the conclusion that he was crazy.

* * *

When I was visiting my parents, a couple of weeks ago, my Mom asked how my old best friend was doing. I had to say that I didn't know because I haven't had an e-mail from her or anything since February. I said I didn't think she had the internet and that's why I hadn't heard from her.

"I ran into [her mom] a week or so ago," Mom said. "She said [you old best friend] just got internet hooked up, but didn't have it for a while. You should give it a try."

"Okay."

"It's funny. When we were talking, she said that for a while there she thought that you and [your best friend] would start going together."

My insides wanted to be on the outside.

"I told her that I thought the same thing, but figured that you two had just know each other for too long. Like you'd become brother and sister."

"Hmm," I said. I wanted to sit, but there was no where to sit.

* * *

That's been in me for a while, but I thought that today was the best day to get it out. I'm not sure what to think, but it makes me wonder what all the rest of the people thought. I have to admit, that I never thought anything like it. I knew, in high school, being who and what I am, that I would never get to first base with a girl, so I pushed most thoughts of romance out of my brain. Why think about something you won't get?

* * *

In the end, Happy Birthday to the one who was the best friend I've ever had. I don't want to know what I would have ended up being like if I had never known you. You made high school bearable and often fun.

Thank You.

And Happy Birthday.

Other Person's Stuff

Just checked my e-mail and Dad sent me this great column. It's by Mark Morford at the SF Gate. I've included my favorite paragraph here. Click on the title to read the whole thing.

It Will All Be Over Soon
BushCo? Kerry? SUV gluttony? Your last orgasm? All flashes in the geological pan, baby. Don't forget.

...
This is how we are wired. This is only what we see. The long view is clearly not our forte, a sense of the celestial a concept we just can't quite taste. We forget, for example, how relatively quickly regimes rise and neoconservative empires fall and populations overturn and how nearly every single human biped now alive and walking and spitting and parallel parking and consuming Big Macs and not watching ABC sitcoms on the planet today will be very much completely dead within a short 100 years, if not sooner.
...

Hope you check it out.

No Work! No School!

This is the first time this has happened since I went to see my parents, and there was only one that weekend, in which I helped set-up the party for my Dad.

Today was suppose to be a day of cleaning. The kitchen smells like vomit because of the dishes in the sink. The floor of my room is covered in books, comics, magazines, mail, and papers; the plan was to clean it up.

Did I do this? NO!

Last night, I was up until three, writing one of those letters that will never be sent. I slept until nine this morning, missing all the good cartoons. I finished a book. I screwed around with Illustrator. I answered some e-mail. I watched the last two episodes of Firefly, again.

I didn't accomplish a thing.

I'm not sure if this was a good day.

Only A Dream

Late last night, or early this morning, I was in the food court at the mall savoring a cup of blue and orange ice cream. There was a cow at the table behind me. A penguin swam in a pot of boiling water at another table. Two chairs got nasty with each other like only chairs can. Steve Martin skated by wearing a balloon hat in the shape of a penis. The railing cried, dripping tears onto the first floor. The elevator wouldn't open its door. And I ate my ice cream with a plastic knife because spoons had never really existed.

I ignored most of this as I watched the girl behind the ice cream counter. The girl who had served me. She had short black hair, pulled back, tight, by her cap. Her eyes were gray, but when the light hit them just right, they shone brighter than polished silver. The round, green, wire-frame glasses constantly slipped down her nose as she reached down to get a scoop for the spook. Her tongue stuck out of the side of her mouth. Sharp nose pointing the way. Beauty.

I remembered how she had flirted with me behind the counter. She took her hat off, her hair fell forward as she looked away from me, it covered her whole face, and when she brushed it back she smiled, her eyes flashed silver. As I ordered, hands on top of the freezer, she put her hand on mine, winked, and grinned again. Electricity passed between us and I counted 27 teeth. I held money out for her, but she ran her hand gently up and down my fore arm before taking the cash out of my hand. My body shivered. As she handed me the change, she looked at me like she wanted me to come back there and help melt the ice cream.

I took my change and paper cup and found a table.

Sitting there, I kept stealing glances. Once in a while, I'd see her looking at me, our eyes would meet then we'd look away quickly.

I heard something, somewhere, tell me that I loved her, that she loved me, that we loved each other. The cow whinnied. The penguin complained that it was too cold. I wiped my face on my arm. I tried to get up, but couldn't. "You love each other," the voice screamed. "Go to her."

John Kerry threw a punch at Edwards. Cheney's tongue slid down Bush's throat. I stood up and took a step toward her, to tell her...

The alarm went off and I opened my eye and saw her face reflected on the ceiling in the early morning light.

Readin'

It was a strange realization.

This Is It

Most days, nothing really happens, but I blog it, or something else entirely, anyway. Today, this is all you get.

Silver Lining

Sunday, in the early afternoon, my brain shut down. It still hasn't reset.

Today started off right where yesterday ended, me with an exploded head. Unfortunately, I was expected to still make drinks. I did okay. On autopilot, I get 95% of the drinks called to written and completed correctly. The rest of me was waiting for its turn to explode. That never came.

Today was a day that wouldn't end. I got there at 5AM and three hours later it still wasn't six. A new person was being trained. For the longest time, she stood off to the side and stared at those of us actually working. She's not allowed to handle money, she hasn't completed that module in her book yet. She's not allowed to make hot drinks, she hasn't completed that module. She's not allowed to make cold drinks, guess why. She's not allowed to do anything except grind, scoop, clean, and play with pastries. Why schedule her for 7 hours and not have her work on the modules?

Round about noon-thirty--manager hidden in back, trainee gone, ASGG (who was the shift supervisor) off somewhere--two gangly, probably high school guys, walked into the store with attitude. Both hunched over, sullen eyes roaming around the store as if looking for someone to challenge them. They thought they were better than everyone in the place and wanted a chance to prove it. I started to grin, I knew they were both idiots and had yet to do anything to really earn the attitude, unless you think it's really hard to ditch school.

DFFB stepped up to the register. I meandered from cleaning a corner to the bar and picked up a pen. "Hey guys, what can we get for you?" asked DFFB in a cheery voice he can always summon.

"Tell me how much is left on this," said the scruffier of the two, flicking a card at DFFB's face.

DFFB ran it and told them the total. Scruffy ordered.

"What about me?" asked the other. "Can I get something, too?"

Scruffy took a few steps back, gestured his friend to follow, they hunched over even more, and started to whisper.

Scruffy stood up. "My friend wants a strawberry thing, how much will that be?" he demanded.

DFFB told him the new total and said, "You need ten more cents."

"Can you spot us?" asked Scruffy.

"I don't have money to buy your drink," said DFFB

Scruffy got red in the face, "Can we take it out of here?"

"Those are our tips, there's no way you're taking it from there."

Scruffy stepped back and turned around, trying to burn the store down with his eyes. "Can you spot us ten cents?" he asked the couple next in line.

They didn't answer.

I stepped over to DFFB and asked if I should make the drinks.

Scruffy spotted me. "Give me ten cents for my drinks," he demanded.

"Any money I bring to work," I said, "won't be spent on drinks I get for free."

Scruffy got redder. The guy behind him gave DFFB a dime. I made the drinks. When I handed them out, Scruffy looked like he wanted to hit me in the nose. My grin was huge.

I made more drinks, many more drinks. After finishing, I wiped down the counters I'd dirtied and looked out the window. There was Scruffy and his friend sitting outside at the table nearest the back door, smoking. Scruffy spoke, his hands gestured at the parking lot. Scruffy's friend moved his left hand across the table, hiding something in his hand that he didn't want the parking lot to see, but clearly visible through the window. It was a joint. I started to chuckle.

"What's up?" asked DFFB.

"Those two morons are out there smoking a joint," I stammered out between laughing fits. "They're trying to hide it, but I saw it through the window."

"Really?"

"Yup," I said, turning back to watch the idiots.

A few seconds later, ASGG asked, "What's that you said earlier?"

"Those retards out there are smoking a joint, trying to hide it, but I can see it through the window," I said.

"Are you sure it's not a rolled cigarette?"

"If it is, they're rolling it in a really strange way, and really thing. It's a joint. Damn, they're stupid."

ASGG's face flushed. He hurried over to the trash, grabbed a bag, and nearly ran to the back door. He disappeared around the corner to ditch the trash. I watched him come back, breathing deeply as he passed the table. Three steps away, he turned and spoke to the two 'tards.

Scruffy's friend stood up and started walking away. Scruffy stood and looked at ASGG and began making broad gestures with his hands.

ASGG narrowed his eyes and said (I could read his lips), "We don't want you smoking that here. Get the fuck away from here and never come back."

I laughed so hard, my sides hurt.

POP!

Arrrgh!

*herk* *hack* *cough*

Too early. Too damned early. Worked too damned late. Want to crawl into bed and slip into coma. Need money.

Damned if do.

Damned if don't.

*sigh* *cough* *cough*

*groan*

Waste

Today, I work until 9:30 in the PM. Tomorrow, I'm supposed to be at work at 6:00 in the AM. Not an unheard of schedule that's well within the rules of scheduling, but not fun. I just keep reminding myself that I have to put up with this to get to next Friday and Saturday, which I have off. Two days off in a row for me, when I didn't even have to ask, has been unheard of at this store. Of course, I have the karma of Charlie Brown, so I'm not going to get overly excited about those two days. Now to waste time before work.