I called someone aces, and meant it.
I think I going to get out in the field at work more. Being stuck at the desk hasn't done me much good. I like to think I help the public and I do but, at the desk, the help is indirect. I rather have the person to person contact I used to have with the public.
I've been stuck at the desk because of the lack of computer skills that others have, so anything computer generated falls to me. It bothers me a bit because the last time we were hiring a new person I said the only thing they need to know is AutoCad. I was asked several times and the answer was always the same, AutoCad. AutoCad. Please AutoCad.
There is more than AutoCad the position needs to know but if they knew AutoCad, I would/could show them the rest. The time previous to the last, we hired a person, they had no computer skills, that wasn't so bad because we did need help with work in the field but that meant all the computer stuff was mine. So, when that next time came to hire someone, I wanted someone with computer skills.
But no suck luck, another field guy was hired somewhat of a buffoon to boot and any field work it could manage to muster for myself disappeared.
I've been told folks are trying to improve my lot but I've heard that for years now.
Lately, a different department been calling, a respected engineer I used to work. Things move slowly at the Hall so I don't get my hopes up but I know if I switch departments my skills will be better used. I might even be challenged. That would be sweet, wouldn't have to self motivate.
Today's Saturday, nothing planned, I might by some clothes. I moved the bird feeder today. I had installed a bird feeder off of the new back deck before the first snow fell but the birds don't/didn't care for the location. I moved it to the tree by the kitchen window. The feeder is one of the squirrel proof kind, so hopefully it will at least give the squirrels something to do. The gimmick to keep them from the bird seed usually gets found out but that's okay.
Made some die blanks for one of my sisters as well. She has some math game for her students she needed to modify and needed more custom dice. I had to make them bigger than I wanted and had to use a softwood as opposed to hardwood but they will work out.
The niece is by again today. I got her to say 'pretty bird', I found that funny even if it was only the baby version of it.
Lately, I've been losing arguments with myself. Hopefully, the new point of views are better than the last.
I think I hit the wall when I rationalized lowering my standards to meet my performance. In actuality, I have done that for quite some time but seeing it typed really bothered me. So, when I couldn't justify my level of performance, I had to do better.
That wirenut is still there, it has lasted a week. The person who most hangs over my cube where that nut is will be leaving on vacation for 31 days so it's probability of survival has gone up.
Saturday, January 31, 2004
Friday, January 30, 2004
Thursday, January 29, 2004
Mood up, Mood down, Mood Up
I think my mood has been improving. Or least I've been focusing on different things, more on the positive than the negative. I still know that I'm not living up to my potential, not doing all that I can, I'm not even doing all the stuff that is convenient. But I also know that if a friend made a request of me, I would do what was needed, maybe even give it my best. So there is some solace there.
I've been getting some good words from friends and people I respect, I fight my urge to argue that, indeed my worth is not as mush as they think. I don't give 100%, maybe 12%, on a good day but whether I am happy with it or not, 12% is usually good enough. I would argue that they don't understand, I lack character but that would produce a litany of my perceived vitues which I would further deny and whould be further argued for and then that would appear I am soliciting pats on the back. And how lame is that?.
If I am doing good enough, I should not stress about not doing my best. I can and will kick up the effort when needed. Giving a better performance, will go on my to-do list for right now.
My change in mood has caused me to think of other areas of my life, ones more/still screwed up.
I have a problem with being happy. I guess.
What usually comes to mind is something that my father said to me in the days of yore. The family was walking around our land in Vermont and we were talking about building something here, putting a roadway there and my father said that he would like to build a little get away and pointed to where he wanted it. I was being a prick that day and stated that his chosen location was too close to the neighboring property and he looked right at me, down to my soul (I met his gaze, rolled my eyes and looked away), and he asked "I can dream, can't I?". Didn't phase me a bit at the time, I was in hardcore buzz kill mode. But it did get to me later, still does today. My dad's premature death was in 95, this was said three years prior.
My dreams have been replaced with a to-do list. I cannot remember anything really ever I dreamed for. Just stuff I needed to get done. I usually borrow other people's dreams, help to make them come true so I do not focus on my own dream free existence.
Most of what I have or do, the decision was made on the spot, I'll buy that truck, hang out with her, live in that house, work for the city.
When asked what I dream of, I reply, I dunno the normal stuff. Truth is my dream list is empty.
I'll put that on my to-do list as well, find/make/discover/uncover my dreams.
I'm really getting tired of reading what I have to say, I believe I know what I have to do to be content, even happy, with myself but I will not do it. I'm usually five minutes late for work every day, all I have to do is get out of bed five minutes earlier and I'll be on time, I'm awake but I will just wait in bed until I know I'll be late. Maybe that my passive aggressive nature telling the world, fuck you.
I wish that where the case, that I really had that much passion/emotion to provide a response as strong as fuck you. My true reaction is more like 'eh' made with one half shrug of one whole shoulder.
...
There was a long pause after that last sentence. I was just sitting here thinking if I met me on the street and I was saying all this stuff, I would kick that me's ass. Seeing my thoughts and accounts memorialize in type has made me want to do something about it.
Both my jobs are not bad. My job with the city is pretty secure even with the budget cuts ands though I think my efforts are often in vain sometimes the things I do make a difference. My job with the real estate office, I pretty much right my own ticket, sometimes the pay is delayed but I'm not there for the money and I get unique opportunities because the owner is involved in more that just real estate. My house is grand, it just needs some work, a lot of work but nothing I haven't done before. The girl I hang around with, she's better than me, she's slumming when she's with me but she's there none the less. My family, for the most part, true.
The problems I see with me are all mine. I'm the clog in the gears of my own happiness. And today I think I finally done with it. Tomorrow I think I'll be happy. I'll know at 8:00am tomorrow when I'm supposed to start work.
Tonight maybe I'll even pick a dream.
am, thanks
I've been getting some good words from friends and people I respect, I fight my urge to argue that, indeed my worth is not as mush as they think. I don't give 100%, maybe 12%, on a good day but whether I am happy with it or not, 12% is usually good enough. I would argue that they don't understand, I lack character but that would produce a litany of my perceived vitues which I would further deny and whould be further argued for and then that would appear I am soliciting pats on the back. And how lame is that?.
If I am doing good enough, I should not stress about not doing my best. I can and will kick up the effort when needed. Giving a better performance, will go on my to-do list for right now.
My change in mood has caused me to think of other areas of my life, ones more/still screwed up.
I have a problem with being happy. I guess.
What usually comes to mind is something that my father said to me in the days of yore. The family was walking around our land in Vermont and we were talking about building something here, putting a roadway there and my father said that he would like to build a little get away and pointed to where he wanted it. I was being a prick that day and stated that his chosen location was too close to the neighboring property and he looked right at me, down to my soul (I met his gaze, rolled my eyes and looked away), and he asked "I can dream, can't I?". Didn't phase me a bit at the time, I was in hardcore buzz kill mode. But it did get to me later, still does today. My dad's premature death was in 95, this was said three years prior.
My dreams have been replaced with a to-do list. I cannot remember anything really ever I dreamed for. Just stuff I needed to get done. I usually borrow other people's dreams, help to make them come true so I do not focus on my own dream free existence.
Most of what I have or do, the decision was made on the spot, I'll buy that truck, hang out with her, live in that house, work for the city.
When asked what I dream of, I reply, I dunno the normal stuff. Truth is my dream list is empty.
I'll put that on my to-do list as well, find/make/discover/uncover my dreams.
I'm really getting tired of reading what I have to say, I believe I know what I have to do to be content, even happy, with myself but I will not do it. I'm usually five minutes late for work every day, all I have to do is get out of bed five minutes earlier and I'll be on time, I'm awake but I will just wait in bed until I know I'll be late. Maybe that my passive aggressive nature telling the world, fuck you.
I wish that where the case, that I really had that much passion/emotion to provide a response as strong as fuck you. My true reaction is more like 'eh' made with one half shrug of one whole shoulder.
...
There was a long pause after that last sentence. I was just sitting here thinking if I met me on the street and I was saying all this stuff, I would kick that me's ass. Seeing my thoughts and accounts memorialize in type has made me want to do something about it.
Both my jobs are not bad. My job with the city is pretty secure even with the budget cuts ands though I think my efforts are often in vain sometimes the things I do make a difference. My job with the real estate office, I pretty much right my own ticket, sometimes the pay is delayed but I'm not there for the money and I get unique opportunities because the owner is involved in more that just real estate. My house is grand, it just needs some work, a lot of work but nothing I haven't done before. The girl I hang around with, she's better than me, she's slumming when she's with me but she's there none the less. My family, for the most part, true.
The problems I see with me are all mine. I'm the clog in the gears of my own happiness. And today I think I finally done with it. Tomorrow I think I'll be happy. I'll know at 8:00am tomorrow when I'm supposed to start work.
Tonight maybe I'll even pick a dream.
am, thanks
I really need help...
My neice is 18 months old and almost starting to talk so the other day I was trying to get her to say "Hello, Pretty Bird, Hello" using my best parrot accent.
At the time, I thought it would be funny if she were to show up at daycare and it looked like she was being taught english by a parrot.
At the time, I thought it would be funny if she were to show up at daycare and it looked like she was being taught english by a parrot.
I need help...
I got an email today from our Operations Division that said I put the wrong street name on a request to install signs. Supposedly, I put Oak Street at West Elm Street instead of Oak Street at East Elm Street (East Elm Street and West Elm Street is the same roadway but the name changes at a some cross street).
I was really bothered by this because I used to live right there, right at the intersection. How could I have screwed that up? So, I checked my paperwork and sure enough I did get the street name wrong.
I don't know what was going through my head back in 1998.
In my defense I did include house numbers on Oak Street which is where I wanted the signs. I still don't know how I screwed that up.
The names of the streets have been changed to protect the stupid
Anyway. it's better than the time I forgot the word for carwash.
I was talking about a location to a contractor and I said that a new.......(thinking)...
me: "What's the word for the place where you wash cars?"
contractor: (looking surprised then he paused).."You mean a carwash?!??" (the dumbass was implied)
me: "Yeah, a carwash. There is going to be a new carwash there."
Maybe I can get a job there drying the....(thinking)....
What's the word for the things you wash at a carwash?
I was really bothered by this because I used to live right there, right at the intersection. How could I have screwed that up? So, I checked my paperwork and sure enough I did get the street name wrong.
I don't know what was going through my head back in 1998.
In my defense I did include house numbers on Oak Street which is where I wanted the signs. I still don't know how I screwed that up.
The names of the streets have been changed to protect the stupid
Anyway. it's better than the time I forgot the word for carwash.
I was talking about a location to a contractor and I said that a new.......(thinking)...
me: "What's the word for the place where you wash cars?"
contractor: (looking surprised then he paused).."You mean a carwash?!??" (the dumbass was implied)
me: "Yeah, a carwash. There is going to be a new carwash there."
Maybe I can get a job there drying the....(thinking)....
What's the word for the things you wash at a carwash?
Wednesday, January 28, 2004
I miss my ink
I caught myself staring at a blank page. I had something to say and then my mind wondered.
I was talking to some other city engineers and topic of other engineers came up. In the city there are two types of engineers, the ones who have their jobs because of what they know and those who have their jobs because of who they know. We started talking about how things are changing, about the good old days. Part of what came up was the use of CAD (computer aided drawning). It was interesting to me that when I first started to work for the city I had CAD experience. The city however, did not. All the plans where draw by hand, first in pencil then, once construction was complete, in ink.
Some folks don’t know this but ink, when drawn on mylar, is completely erasable. If you do it right, the fix cannot be noticed, but you need skills, skills and spit. I miss the ink. I can actually draw faster in ink than on AutoCad. AutoCad is trying to verbally tell someone how to dance, drawing by hand is the actual dancing itself, an art form soon to be lost, already lost, those who do it are a dying breed, already dead.
I was mentioning to one of my fellow engineers, that I miss drawing in ink, he said we’re dinosaurs, you’re a young dinosaur but a dinosaur none the less. I’m not going to see extinction, I can adapt but a part of me, as with the ink, is gone, dead, finished. I actually keep a bottle on ink on my desk for the old days.
I made the rounds while I was there, three different stops to four different engineers. The message I got, the city is in trouble, keep the faith, there is no hope without faith.
I’ve been with the city for around eight years, most of the others have been here twenty – thirty years. I’m always impressed, I’m treated as equal, a confidant, the old guard.
Thanks guys.
I was talking to some other city engineers and topic of other engineers came up. In the city there are two types of engineers, the ones who have their jobs because of what they know and those who have their jobs because of who they know. We started talking about how things are changing, about the good old days. Part of what came up was the use of CAD (computer aided drawning). It was interesting to me that when I first started to work for the city I had CAD experience. The city however, did not. All the plans where draw by hand, first in pencil then, once construction was complete, in ink.
Some folks don’t know this but ink, when drawn on mylar, is completely erasable. If you do it right, the fix cannot be noticed, but you need skills, skills and spit. I miss the ink. I can actually draw faster in ink than on AutoCad. AutoCad is trying to verbally tell someone how to dance, drawing by hand is the actual dancing itself, an art form soon to be lost, already lost, those who do it are a dying breed, already dead.
I was mentioning to one of my fellow engineers, that I miss drawing in ink, he said we’re dinosaurs, you’re a young dinosaur but a dinosaur none the less. I’m not going to see extinction, I can adapt but a part of me, as with the ink, is gone, dead, finished. I actually keep a bottle on ink on my desk for the old days.
I made the rounds while I was there, three different stops to four different engineers. The message I got, the city is in trouble, keep the faith, there is no hope without faith.
I’ve been with the city for around eight years, most of the others have been here twenty – thirty years. I’m always impressed, I’m treated as equal, a confidant, the old guard.
Thanks guys.
My Friends' Opinion
Last night, I walked into the real estate office and a friend said “there’s the only stable man in my life”. I thought, you are really screwed up.
I got a ride to the train station today from the most affluent resident in the neighborhood, maybe not the most affluent but he's up there, he could have drove right by me and I wouldn’t have noticed, but he stopped. I usually enjoy the walk, I get to gather my thoughts but I hopped in the crown vic because I appreciated the thought. I met the one who drove through a friend, someone needed help, help that could be trusted, they chose me. This driver afforded me trust on the word of our mutual friend, he didn’t know me, I hadn’t earned his trust but he gave it none the less. When the job was done we went our ways, we live in the same neighborhood but in different worlds, he has no reason for my acquaintance now. The job was a one time thing.
There are no style points being associated with me but when he’s going by and I’m moving the lawn or something he makes it a point to stop and not just wave. He freely says “I like you, Timmy”. I prefer not to be called Timmy but it seems that is what those who know me use when they’re saying something personal.
Sometimes, I need to like Timmy more.
I read a quote that basically defined a friend as someone who sees right through you but enjoys the view anyway. What a sappy piece of corny crap. I thought about my friends, they don’t know the real me, my quiet thoughts, what I truly think.
They might not know exactly but if they have spent anytime at all with me, they can certainly guess.
The point of all this? Sometimes it is best if I trust my friends’ opinion of myself even if I disagree because to think I’m fooling any of them with my façade would be rather arrogant on my part.
I’m not that good at pretending.
I got a ride to the train station today from the most affluent resident in the neighborhood, maybe not the most affluent but he's up there, he could have drove right by me and I wouldn’t have noticed, but he stopped. I usually enjoy the walk, I get to gather my thoughts but I hopped in the crown vic because I appreciated the thought. I met the one who drove through a friend, someone needed help, help that could be trusted, they chose me. This driver afforded me trust on the word of our mutual friend, he didn’t know me, I hadn’t earned his trust but he gave it none the less. When the job was done we went our ways, we live in the same neighborhood but in different worlds, he has no reason for my acquaintance now. The job was a one time thing.
There are no style points being associated with me but when he’s going by and I’m moving the lawn or something he makes it a point to stop and not just wave. He freely says “I like you, Timmy”. I prefer not to be called Timmy but it seems that is what those who know me use when they’re saying something personal.
Sometimes, I need to like Timmy more.
I read a quote that basically defined a friend as someone who sees right through you but enjoys the view anyway. What a sappy piece of corny crap. I thought about my friends, they don’t know the real me, my quiet thoughts, what I truly think.
They might not know exactly but if they have spent anytime at all with me, they can certainly guess.
The point of all this? Sometimes it is best if I trust my friends’ opinion of myself even if I disagree because to think I’m fooling any of them with my façade would be rather arrogant on my part.
I’m not that good at pretending.
I need to know. I really need to know.
I need to know why someone who knows how to check email would read an email and open an attachment from someone they don't know, even someone they do know. Please explain that to me.
If one in twenty parcels you get from the U.S. Postal Service was a mail bomb would you just open any mail willy nilly like?
If one was..Is that right?
One was..one were
I was..I were
He was..he were
you was..you were
It was..it were
Where the hell did I learn my basic verb conjugation?
If one in twenty parcels you get from the U.S. Postal Service was a mail bomb would you just open any mail willy nilly like?
If one was..Is that right?
One was..one were
I was..I were
He was..he were
you was..you were
It was..it were
Where the hell did I learn my basic verb conjugation?
Tuesday, January 27, 2004
Snow on Wednesday, Maybe a foot
Well, I don't think I was prick to anyone today. So, a 'job well done' to me.
I have the real estate advertising done (open houses on Superbowl Sunday), paid some of someone else's bills, and wrote myself a check (it might even get signed).
I was sitting here looking at my mug collection. I don't even remember why there is a mug collection here in my office. Among others, there are three from London, one from Yellowstone, and one from Salt Lake City (the 2002 Winter Olympic Games). I think I'm due a trip. Maybe even a cruise.
At the day job, I had one new map to create and had to print out 15 others. I got word at 11:00AM that the 15 maps were needed by 12:00PM which I knew wasn't possible. After the first three maps, the plotter beeped and requested that I call the service guy, fortunately shutting the machine off made it forget it had a problem. Although, when I heard that beep and it was me vs. the machine, I was secretely rooting for the machine. I was already to shrug my shoulders and say "plotter's broke". The plotter finished them at 12:30PM, low on yellow ink.
At 2:45PM (which isn't quite 12:00PM) my presence was requested at the reception desk with someone asking for the map(s). Someone I've never seen before requesting maps for someone I've never heard of before. "Who are you? Never mind, It doesn't matter, here take all of these. Good Luck"
Good Luck. I picked that up from one of my Irish builder friends. He used to always wish people good luck as he was departing and I enjoyed the bit of worry it gave some folks.
Good luck, Good luck? Why do I need good luck? Is this wall going to fall or something?
No. No reason. Just good luck... I wish you good luck... I hope good luck follows you wherever you go.
Oh, alright. Thanks
Good luck.
The wirenut still remains on my cube wall.
I have the real estate advertising done (open houses on Superbowl Sunday), paid some of someone else's bills, and wrote myself a check (it might even get signed).
I was sitting here looking at my mug collection. I don't even remember why there is a mug collection here in my office. Among others, there are three from London, one from Yellowstone, and one from Salt Lake City (the 2002 Winter Olympic Games). I think I'm due a trip. Maybe even a cruise.
At the day job, I had one new map to create and had to print out 15 others. I got word at 11:00AM that the 15 maps were needed by 12:00PM which I knew wasn't possible. After the first three maps, the plotter beeped and requested that I call the service guy, fortunately shutting the machine off made it forget it had a problem. Although, when I heard that beep and it was me vs. the machine, I was secretely rooting for the machine. I was already to shrug my shoulders and say "plotter's broke". The plotter finished them at 12:30PM, low on yellow ink.
At 2:45PM (which isn't quite 12:00PM) my presence was requested at the reception desk with someone asking for the map(s). Someone I've never seen before requesting maps for someone I've never heard of before. "Who are you? Never mind, It doesn't matter, here take all of these. Good Luck"
Good Luck. I picked that up from one of my Irish builder friends. He used to always wish people good luck as he was departing and I enjoyed the bit of worry it gave some folks.
Good luck, Good luck? Why do I need good luck? Is this wall going to fall or something?
No. No reason. Just good luck... I wish you good luck... I hope good luck follows you wherever you go.
Oh, alright. Thanks
Good luck.
The wirenut still remains on my cube wall.
Do you smell that?
It smells familiar...I know, that's the smell of new money.
Speaking of what's familiar.
The other day friends of mine offered me a smoked oyster which I declined which produced a dare from an attractive girl so I ate the oyster. I was asked what it tasted like, and the taste was not unknown to me but I could not place it. I was still having trouble identifying where I experienced that taste before but I knew it was from the ocean. So, I said it tasted
like the ocean, which received the reply what does that mean? and then I remember that exact taste.
When I was a teenager, my dad used to catch lobsters, more as a hobby then anything else, and I would go out with him when I could. Lobsters are caught by lowering a trap to the bottom of the ocean by using a rope which is tied to a bouy. The rope gets this green ocean slime on it which makes the rope slippery, if the rope slips when you're yanking it, it produces a fine mist of that green ocean slime usually hitting the yanker right in the face.
Well, the smoked oyster tasted exactly like that green ocean slime. Great memories.
FYI, I don't like eating lobsters. And if you need me to do something and you're not a pretty girl, have a pretty girl ask me but make sure I don't think I'm being played because then things get ugly.
Today's goal don't be a prick.
Speaking of what's familiar.
The other day friends of mine offered me a smoked oyster which I declined which produced a dare from an attractive girl so I ate the oyster. I was asked what it tasted like, and the taste was not unknown to me but I could not place it. I was still having trouble identifying where I experienced that taste before but I knew it was from the ocean. So, I said it tasted
like the ocean, which received the reply what does that mean? and then I remember that exact taste.
When I was a teenager, my dad used to catch lobsters, more as a hobby then anything else, and I would go out with him when I could. Lobsters are caught by lowering a trap to the bottom of the ocean by using a rope which is tied to a bouy. The rope gets this green ocean slime on it which makes the rope slippery, if the rope slips when you're yanking it, it produces a fine mist of that green ocean slime usually hitting the yanker right in the face.
Well, the smoked oyster tasted exactly like that green ocean slime. Great memories.
FYI, I don't like eating lobsters. And if you need me to do something and you're not a pretty girl, have a pretty girl ask me but make sure I don't think I'm being played because then things get ugly.
Today's goal don't be a prick.
Monday, January 26, 2004
Tortured Soul
I'm really not such I tortured soul. All that other stuff is true except for why I don't get too involved in fighting the good fight. Truth is I just got a little bit, burnt out. I still do stuff like help old ladies to cross the street, throw some money to the homeless, make 500 custom invites with reply cards for a private school fundraiser with two days notice. I still keep my fingers wet, I just rather not be in charge of anything right now.
My goal today was to try and be less of a prick. I did try. I'm not certain I succeeded.
Sorry, Neil.
Don't worry about Neil, he was over it by lunch time. Neil is the type of guy that will storm off when you get the better of him and then he'll glue your stapler to your desk when you're not looking. I haven't found out what he glued this time. I've been honestly trying to be nicer to Neil, he picked himself a hard row to hoe but some of the stuff he says is just so doltish.
I wore the new shoes again today. I'm starting to like them better. That floor in the picture is 140 years old and I believe that is the original finish so there is a little bit of the old and a little bit of the new.
That orange wirenut is still sitting on my Eastern wall.
My goal today was to try and be less of a prick. I did try. I'm not certain I succeeded.
Sorry, Neil.
Don't worry about Neil, he was over it by lunch time. Neil is the type of guy that will storm off when you get the better of him and then he'll glue your stapler to your desk when you're not looking. I haven't found out what he glued this time. I've been honestly trying to be nicer to Neil, he picked himself a hard row to hoe but some of the stuff he says is just so doltish.
I wore the new shoes again today. I'm starting to like them better. That floor in the picture is 140 years old and I believe that is the original finish so there is a little bit of the old and a little bit of the new.
That orange wirenut is still sitting on my Eastern wall.
Sunday, January 25, 2004
Ahh..Sunday
"I pull my blue jeans on. I pull my old blue jeans on"
My Sundays are usually for nothing, nada. If I get anything done, then good for me. If I had plans to accomplish nothing and actually accomplished something then that's extra credit for me. I'm not certain where the extra credit is tallied but I got me some there.
Which reminds me, I'll usually do favors for the folks I know (in my head I call them 'my peeps' but I can't bring myself to type that descriptive). These favors usually bring about a 'thank you' followed by 'and you will be rewarded', then a pause from comedic effect, ended with 'in Heaven'. I prefer monetary rewards but I guess heavenly rewards are okay too. I expect nothing in return for my favors, so anything I get is gravy.
Anyway, I did a favor for a cohort in Public Works, a respected gentleman, and his response was "thank you, you will be rewarded". My smart apple reply was "where in Heaven? Because that's where most of my rewards go". To which he responded "Oh, really? I hope you make it". I was amused because he out smart assed me which was unexpected it but it also made me think "yeah, I hope I make it too".
On a different subject, I think I figured out why I haven't been living up to my own expectations. Awhile ago I was fighting the good fight and things weren't going my way but that's happened before so I persevered. Then my opponent started fighting dirty but that's happened before so I persevered. But the fight was going nowhere. The fight was going on and on and I new I could win if the other guy just stopped cheating but he wasn't going to stop because he knew I could beat him. So, I complained to the referee and I know he saw the illegal blows and fouls but the referee just shrugs his shoulders and says "so?". I can handle getting beat. I can handle getting beat by a cheat. But when I'm not getting a chance to do well, I get annoyed. And in this case after a year and a half, I just quit. I said to the powers that be, I don't believe you are doing the right thing, I think it's all a mistake. I'm tired of taking the blame for all that isn't getting done, so I'm out. I quit.
I was done with making decisions, done with standing in the gap. I made an appeal for justice and was rebuffed. I could have continued, I just didn't see the point of it. I've always made it to the final round, never been knocked out. This time I quit, I said "no mas".
What I didn't know at the time was that some of the crowd and some of the other fighters were quietly behind me. They never seen me quit, they always got a good show when I was in the ring. Now, I quit, TKO, I threw in the towel. What happened next was that others stopped fighting the good fight. They witnessed me let evil win so they gave up as well.
In real live, without the analogy, around forty thousand dollars that belonged to a nonprofit charity was lost to one man's drug addiction. When I quit the purse-strings went to a relative of mine, a relative who was easily manipulated. The newly made drug addict was counseling a different relative of mine and when all was revealed, that relative fell by the wayside, they would not listen to anybody by then. All of this was a mighty blow to the organization. A blow, that in actuality killed it.
I can argue that those people shouldn't have put there faith in me, they should have been standing on there own. But I think something different.
So what was lost: two relatives, the career of a formally respected counselor, $40 grand, and a charity that my father and my father's father help build. All because I wearied in welldoing.
There are still fight cards that need to be filled. I get calls every once in a while. I'll hold the spit bucket but I don't step into the ring, the stakes are still too high for my liking.
There might come a day when I get feed up with the good fight being unfought. I miss the fight, but today just isn't the day.
I was just going to post a picture of my new shoes, I was wearing them today, but that will wait until later.
My Sundays are usually for nothing, nada. If I get anything done, then good for me. If I had plans to accomplish nothing and actually accomplished something then that's extra credit for me. I'm not certain where the extra credit is tallied but I got me some there.
Which reminds me, I'll usually do favors for the folks I know (in my head I call them 'my peeps' but I can't bring myself to type that descriptive). These favors usually bring about a 'thank you' followed by 'and you will be rewarded', then a pause from comedic effect, ended with 'in Heaven'. I prefer monetary rewards but I guess heavenly rewards are okay too. I expect nothing in return for my favors, so anything I get is gravy.
Anyway, I did a favor for a cohort in Public Works, a respected gentleman, and his response was "thank you, you will be rewarded". My smart apple reply was "where in Heaven? Because that's where most of my rewards go". To which he responded "Oh, really? I hope you make it". I was amused because he out smart assed me which was unexpected it but it also made me think "yeah, I hope I make it too".
On a different subject, I think I figured out why I haven't been living up to my own expectations. Awhile ago I was fighting the good fight and things weren't going my way but that's happened before so I persevered. Then my opponent started fighting dirty but that's happened before so I persevered. But the fight was going nowhere. The fight was going on and on and I new I could win if the other guy just stopped cheating but he wasn't going to stop because he knew I could beat him. So, I complained to the referee and I know he saw the illegal blows and fouls but the referee just shrugs his shoulders and says "so?". I can handle getting beat. I can handle getting beat by a cheat. But when I'm not getting a chance to do well, I get annoyed. And in this case after a year and a half, I just quit. I said to the powers that be, I don't believe you are doing the right thing, I think it's all a mistake. I'm tired of taking the blame for all that isn't getting done, so I'm out. I quit.
I was done with making decisions, done with standing in the gap. I made an appeal for justice and was rebuffed. I could have continued, I just didn't see the point of it. I've always made it to the final round, never been knocked out. This time I quit, I said "no mas".
What I didn't know at the time was that some of the crowd and some of the other fighters were quietly behind me. They never seen me quit, they always got a good show when I was in the ring. Now, I quit, TKO, I threw in the towel. What happened next was that others stopped fighting the good fight. They witnessed me let evil win so they gave up as well.
In real live, without the analogy, around forty thousand dollars that belonged to a nonprofit charity was lost to one man's drug addiction. When I quit the purse-strings went to a relative of mine, a relative who was easily manipulated. The newly made drug addict was counseling a different relative of mine and when all was revealed, that relative fell by the wayside, they would not listen to anybody by then. All of this was a mighty blow to the organization. A blow, that in actuality killed it.
I can argue that those people shouldn't have put there faith in me, they should have been standing on there own. But I think something different.
So what was lost: two relatives, the career of a formally respected counselor, $40 grand, and a charity that my father and my father's father help build. All because I wearied in welldoing.
There are still fight cards that need to be filled. I get calls every once in a while. I'll hold the spit bucket but I don't step into the ring, the stakes are still too high for my liking.
There might come a day when I get feed up with the good fight being unfought. I miss the fight, but today just isn't the day.
I was just going to post a picture of my new shoes, I was wearing them today, but that will wait until later.
Saturday, January 24, 2004
but I walked away and I'm walking yet...
Friday's gone. Didn't do much. After work my crew of drinking buddies compatriots of libation had other plans and some of us shared, for discussion purposes, I'll say ginger ales and rounds of Keno at lunch so I depart Downtown for the outskirts.
I'm glad I don't get a buzz off of ginger ale because I think I might have been pushing the limits, otherwise.
Earlier in the day, Friday, I did notice this orange wirenut. Property Management orphaned it while trying to brighten my day (ie. fix my light). I get a lot ofanuses folks looking over my cube right where the nut is so I think our time together will be brief. I'm certain someone will ask "What is this for?" I'll have to think up some witty retort. That's what I do for excitement.
"I don't think the hard working taxpayers of our fair city really want you asking questions about my nuts" is the best I got right now.
I found myself again with the squirrels earlier today. They had some feathered competition. I didn't spend too much time staring out the window, I had things to do and chicken to marinate. Today was the last day for poultry procratination or else it would be in the garbage. I'm sure the chicken could have lasted longer according to the FDA but my standards are higher.
Tomorrow might be the big day for the new shoes. I don't do a lot a shoe shopping so it's a big deal. I usually can't find shoes I like. There was a whole cowboy boot era in my life and I still like the cowboy boot look. I'm in counseling
I hate it when I'm at the checkout counter and I'm asked if I found everything I was looking for. Which happened when I was buying my shoes. I actually didn't find what I was looking for but I settled for the pair I got.
Did I find everything I was looking for?!
Are there more shoes in the back? Isn't all your stock right there on the floor?
Isn't that your whole gimmick? That all your crap is out on the floor so you don't have to have people go to the back, so you can pass the savings on to me, the customer.
No, I didn't find what I was looking for, so I came up here to a cashier, instead of the sales help on the floor, to hold up the checkout line to see if there was another hidden section for men's shoes. Do I need to say a password? Secret handshake? Nod? Wink? Come back at 6:37PM?
What kind of foolish question is that?
Did your supervisior tell you to ask that?
Come to think of it I need a pair of shiney new hooker boots, I busted my last pair trying to ditch the cops. Heel came right off, after I cleared that dumpster. Should have worn panties that night, if you know what I mean. Almost broke an ankle. Tore my favorite most profitable dress too.
...bought new shoes three days ago...obviously still very angry...
My reaction at the store was actually a sly grin and a verbal yeah. And because all that stuff actually did race through my head I took the cashier up on his offer to become a member of their shoe buying organization. My penance for wanting to be an ass. Membership does includes Member-only offers.
There must be a hidden section.
I'm glad I don't get a buzz off of ginger ale because I think I might have been pushing the limits, otherwise.
Earlier in the day, Friday, I did notice this orange wirenut. Property Management orphaned it while trying to brighten my day (ie. fix my light). I get a lot of
"I don't think the hard working taxpayers of our fair city really want you asking questions about my nuts" is the best I got right now.
I found myself again with the squirrels earlier today. They had some feathered competition. I didn't spend too much time staring out the window, I had things to do and chicken to marinate. Today was the last day for poultry procratination or else it would be in the garbage. I'm sure the chicken could have lasted longer according to the FDA but my standards are higher.
Tomorrow might be the big day for the new shoes. I don't do a lot a shoe shopping so it's a big deal. I usually can't find shoes I like. There was a whole cowboy boot era in my life and I still like the cowboy boot look. I'm in counseling
I hate it when I'm at the checkout counter and I'm asked if I found everything I was looking for. Which happened when I was buying my shoes. I actually didn't find what I was looking for but I settled for the pair I got.
Did I find everything I was looking for?!
Are there more shoes in the back? Isn't all your stock right there on the floor?
Isn't that your whole gimmick? That all your crap is out on the floor so you don't have to have people go to the back, so you can pass the savings on to me, the customer.
No, I didn't find what I was looking for, so I came up here to a cashier, instead of the sales help on the floor, to hold up the checkout line to see if there was another hidden section for men's shoes. Do I need to say a password? Secret handshake? Nod? Wink? Come back at 6:37PM?
What kind of foolish question is that?
Did your supervisior tell you to ask that?
Come to think of it I need a pair of shiney new hooker boots, I busted my last pair trying to ditch the cops. Heel came right off, after I cleared that dumpster. Should have worn panties that night, if you know what I mean. Almost broke an ankle. Tore my favorite most profitable dress too.
...bought new shoes three days ago...obviously still very angry...
My reaction at the store was actually a sly grin and a verbal yeah. And because all that stuff actually did race through my head I took the cashier up on his offer to become a member of their shoe buying organization. My penance for wanting to be an ass. Membership does includes Member-only offers.
There must be a hidden section.
Friday, January 23, 2004
A warning to 86 year old ladies
I'll try to listen all day long but if you are rude to me for three consecutive statements a portion of hell might just break loose.
Thursday, January 22, 2004
No new shoes today
The new shoes didn't make the cut today. I'm a little
disappointed but snow's on the way. The soles on the
new shoes seem a bit slick, which I knew when I bought
them but there seemed to be a direct ratio between
sole slickness and style. The less slick the sole, the
less style. I'm a slave to fashion. I will most likely
end up busting my ass from slipping in the new shoes.
I also got to debate the definition of an intersection with
an 86 year old woman who received a parking ticket
basically because her definition of an intersection differs
with that of the city. I believe the debate lasted 40 minutes.
disappointed but snow's on the way. The soles on the
new shoes seem a bit slick, which I knew when I bought
them but there seemed to be a direct ratio between
sole slickness and style. The less slick the sole, the
less style. I'm a slave to fashion. I will most likely
end up busting my ass from slipping in the new shoes.
I also got to debate the definition of an intersection with
an 86 year old woman who received a parking ticket
basically because her definition of an intersection differs
with that of the city. I believe the debate lasted 40 minutes.
Why a Blog?
Why a blog cousin? That was my first entry. There should probably be a comma between blog and cousin. Maybe, I use too many comma’s.
The cousin part is a private joke. My family has a propensity to pick up lines from movies and modify them and incorporate them into every day speech.
Why a web log? It not for the log's sake. I was hoping, am hoping that it will improve my webpage, photo editing and writing skills. You see, I have a motivational problem.
All my life, I have underachieved. Never reached my potential.
I don’t remember what brought the issue up but my mother told a story, to assorted family and friends, that when I was in the second grade or so, I received a B in Effort. So my parents go to an open house, at my then current school, so they can speak with the teacher to find out what’s wrong. My parents were of the opinion that the grade I received in Effort should be the same grade as I received as the main grade. The main grade was an A. During the open house, my parents are told, “he’s well behaved and does his work well but he just doesn’t try hard”. The revelation that my parent’s son actually earned the lesser grade of B in Effort was not well received. My mother says that I was spoken to and the grade improved. I guess I pretended to try hard. Or maybe the teacher realized that it wasn’t the second grader’s fault that the classes were not a challenge to him, and just gave the following A's in Effort.
Maybe, the teacher didn’t want to be bothered with parents that were concerned with a B in Effort when there were other parents that didn’t even read their child’s report card.
The point of the story is that I do what gets me by. I usually will give A quality work, or at least convince people it’s A quality, but I do it with a B quality effort. B on my better effort days. I have trouble giving a hoot.
I should always try my best but I usually only try for better than that other guy. Sometimes, when I’m lazy I choose a real screw-up as the other guy.
I write a webpage for a real estate company. I believe it was the first one online within the company’s region. It originated because I thought it would be good marketing to say “we’re on the internet”. The first postings were just the “Home of the Week”. I would change the page weekly, take the prior week’s down and put the current week’s up. Then I thought I was losing a lot of effort just getting rid of the prior week’s property so I started just taking the “Home of the Week” title off the page. In the beginning it was actually hosted in my personal free web space that AOL gives with membership….
Who gives a shit? The point is back in the day the page was okay. Today it blows. I have fallen out of the loop of creating decent, passable stuff and thought seeing a plain piece of crap blog posting would motive me to get my ass back into gear. Or, at least show something passable.
Why don’t I just put my effort into the real estate page? That is a good question. It’s seems unnecessary to learn to dress up a lame ass blog with the desire to dress up a real estate page when the true goal is to just dress up the real estate page. Why don’t I just take a course in web paging or something? It all comes back to motivation. I have little love left for the real estate page and I have never been a fan of conventional learning. I have a problem with paying some folks to have me read their books which I have to purchase, usually from them or their minions. If I’m paying you I should at least have the book read to me. I rather just skip to reading the book on my own.
I haven’t reached the point of being so pissed off at the design of this blog to do something about yet. But I’m close.
As a side note, the Director of my day job spoke to my Supervisor and told him that I looked bored. The Director is pleased with the work. I’m giving what is required. It’s just that I seemed bored.
pssstt...something of a challenge might help.
I hope my mom doesn’t find out
The cousin part is a private joke. My family has a propensity to pick up lines from movies and modify them and incorporate them into every day speech.
Why a web log? It not for the log's sake. I was hoping, am hoping that it will improve my webpage, photo editing and writing skills. You see, I have a motivational problem.
All my life, I have underachieved. Never reached my potential.
I don’t remember what brought the issue up but my mother told a story, to assorted family and friends, that when I was in the second grade or so, I received a B in Effort. So my parents go to an open house, at my then current school, so they can speak with the teacher to find out what’s wrong. My parents were of the opinion that the grade I received in Effort should be the same grade as I received as the main grade. The main grade was an A. During the open house, my parents are told, “he’s well behaved and does his work well but he just doesn’t try hard”. The revelation that my parent’s son actually earned the lesser grade of B in Effort was not well received. My mother says that I was spoken to and the grade improved. I guess I pretended to try hard. Or maybe the teacher realized that it wasn’t the second grader’s fault that the classes were not a challenge to him, and just gave the following A's in Effort.
Maybe, the teacher didn’t want to be bothered with parents that were concerned with a B in Effort when there were other parents that didn’t even read their child’s report card.
The point of the story is that I do what gets me by. I usually will give A quality work, or at least convince people it’s A quality, but I do it with a B quality effort. B on my better effort days. I have trouble giving a hoot.
I should always try my best but I usually only try for better than that other guy. Sometimes, when I’m lazy I choose a real screw-up as the other guy.
I write a webpage for a real estate company. I believe it was the first one online within the company’s region. It originated because I thought it would be good marketing to say “we’re on the internet”. The first postings were just the “Home of the Week”. I would change the page weekly, take the prior week’s down and put the current week’s up. Then I thought I was losing a lot of effort just getting rid of the prior week’s property so I started just taking the “Home of the Week” title off the page. In the beginning it was actually hosted in my personal free web space that AOL gives with membership….
Who gives a shit? The point is back in the day the page was okay. Today it blows. I have fallen out of the loop of creating decent, passable stuff and thought seeing a plain piece of crap blog posting would motive me to get my ass back into gear. Or, at least show something passable.
Why don’t I just put my effort into the real estate page? That is a good question. It’s seems unnecessary to learn to dress up a lame ass blog with the desire to dress up a real estate page when the true goal is to just dress up the real estate page. Why don’t I just take a course in web paging or something? It all comes back to motivation. I have little love left for the real estate page and I have never been a fan of conventional learning. I have a problem with paying some folks to have me read their books which I have to purchase, usually from them or their minions. If I’m paying you I should at least have the book read to me. I rather just skip to reading the book on my own.
I haven’t reached the point of being so pissed off at the design of this blog to do something about yet. But I’m close.
As a side note, the Director of my day job spoke to my Supervisor and told him that I looked bored. The Director is pleased with the work. I’m giving what is required. It’s just that I seemed bored.
pssstt...something of a challenge might help.
I hope my mom doesn’t find out
Wednesday, January 21, 2004
Pardon me?
I forgot. Last Saturday I was told I was niggafied by a friend . I believe the phrase was "you been niggafied". Which was a surprise to me. The person who told me of my new status seemed liked she was happy with it. I thought, I was dressed like homeless man chic. I don't mind the association but I hope I don't look like a pretender. I hate pretenders. But I guess it's all good.
New Shoes
I actually didn't have a hole in both of my shoes. There was a hole is one shoe's sole. As opposed to the hole in my soul. I fixed the latter sole's problem with a new pair of shoes which I almost forgot to buy.
I had just sat down to start doing nothing for lunch and I glanced down and remembered I was wearing my Timberland boots. They're a type of hiking boot which I can get away with at work because there is a chance I might be in the field, on a job site, so my footwear is supposed to be OSHA approved for construction sites. I wasn't going out in the field today. It was too cold but If anybody said anything that was my ready made excuse.
Anyway, I get to going to the shoe store and start thinking about the tourists that tend to be about. I'm thinking why don't more locals make the foreigners more welcome. To me tourists are less money I have to pay in state taxes and I like being kind to strangers (those I familiar with, I'm not always kind to). Anyway, I come across three young ladies looking at one of maps the city puts up here and there. They look a little confused so I keep my eye on them to see if they want help. Before I have to asked if I can try to be of help one of them starts with the questions.
young lady: "Are you from here?"
me: (I smiled) and said "Yes, I am" I smiled because my friendly charmed worked.
young lady: "Do you know where the Boston Massacre site is?"
me:"Yes, I do. And you are very close"
I then point to the location which would be visible from where we were if it were not for the fact that the site, the site of an incident that reportedly brought about the American Revolution, that won America it's freedom from the British Empire, is no more that an obscure four and a half foot circle of cobblestones on a beat down traffic island which has no walkway leading to it. You have to jay walk, through Bostonian traffic, to get to the site. Wonderful. Anyway, they tell me they probably passed right over it and I agreed and let then know there is even a plaque next to some newspaper boxes across the street from the site to memorialize the occasion.
Then one of the young lady's friends asks about Faneuil Hall which was right over my left shoulder at the time. I was going to offer them a guided tour and probably would have if our ages were closer. But I had shoes to buy, or else I would have to choose my clothes with what would match my limited, available, no holes footwear.
The shoe store I was going to was on the way back to the massacre site so I made certain they found it. Then I went on my way.
The other parts of my day involved neating up my cube.
I had just sat down to start doing nothing for lunch and I glanced down and remembered I was wearing my Timberland boots. They're a type of hiking boot which I can get away with at work because there is a chance I might be in the field, on a job site, so my footwear is supposed to be OSHA approved for construction sites. I wasn't going out in the field today. It was too cold but If anybody said anything that was my ready made excuse.
Anyway, I get to going to the shoe store and start thinking about the tourists that tend to be about. I'm thinking why don't more locals make the foreigners more welcome. To me tourists are less money I have to pay in state taxes and I like being kind to strangers (those I familiar with, I'm not always kind to). Anyway, I come across three young ladies looking at one of maps the city puts up here and there. They look a little confused so I keep my eye on them to see if they want help. Before I have to asked if I can try to be of help one of them starts with the questions.
young lady: "Are you from here?"
me: (I smiled) and said "Yes, I am" I smiled because my friendly charmed worked.
young lady: "Do you know where the Boston Massacre site is?"
me:"Yes, I do. And you are very close"
I then point to the location which would be visible from where we were if it were not for the fact that the site, the site of an incident that reportedly brought about the American Revolution, that won America it's freedom from the British Empire, is no more that an obscure four and a half foot circle of cobblestones on a beat down traffic island which has no walkway leading to it. You have to jay walk, through Bostonian traffic, to get to the site. Wonderful. Anyway, they tell me they probably passed right over it and I agreed and let then know there is even a plaque next to some newspaper boxes across the street from the site to memorialize the occasion.
Then one of the young lady's friends asks about Faneuil Hall which was right over my left shoulder at the time. I was going to offer them a guided tour and probably would have if our ages were closer. But I had shoes to buy, or else I would have to choose my clothes with what would match my limited, available, no holes footwear.
The shoe store I was going to was on the way back to the massacre site so I made certain they found it. Then I went on my way.
The other parts of my day involved neating up my cube.
I started cleaning up my cube. I do not mind the clutter until I run out of things that need to be done. There is always something to do but a lot of it can wait. I had recently had to complete two different maps. One was city wide. The other mostly just downtown. Both maps have been shipped off to the requesters. One came back for editing due to misinformation and was sent back out. And, hopefully I am freed from them.
The clean-up lasted about an hour and a half before a coffee break and about another hour and a half before lunch. For a change I started trying to find space on my hard drive and came across this picture.
That cat will beg you for donuts. It's the only thing he will beg for.
The rabbit has since died. I took the rabbit as a favor to a friend. She used to mug you for carrots, which I thought was rather cool for a rabbit. I sometimes snack on carrots. I made a mistake of telling one of my buddies the rabbits given name which was Sweetie Pie. At the rabbit's original home she had a companion named Groucho and everything was fine until a miniature pincher came to live with the rabbits. The rabbits were not happy with the new addition to the family and would run around the cage stomping their feet.
Groucho brakes his back and has to be put down. That leaves Sweetie Pie who still doesn't like the dog. The reason there were two rabbits to begin with is because there are two daughters. The mother thought it would be best if both rabbits departed the house together. So, I was asked to take Sweetie Pie. My house is kinda famous for having animals in it and I was honestly trying to cut down on new arrivals so I wasn't jumping at the idea. That is when my "sucker for a pretty lady" bad habit kicked in. There was a friend of the mother's in the room when I was asked and she (who reminds me of Julianne Moore, only more attractive) asks me point blank, "so, your not going to take the rabbit!?"....(great Julianne Moore thinks I'm an anus)
There was silence while I was thinking what a problem the rabbit was going to cause. I have a lot of work to do in the house. I do not need to worry about living things here and there.
An animal shelter couldn't be the answer because I'm certain the mother felt somewhat responsible for bringing the dog in the house and now she has to get rid of her daughters' rabbits. She needed to know the surviving rabbit would go to a good home. So, I told myself that "I'm a sucker" and to just say you'll take the rabbit right now because everyone knows that is what is going to happen and if you wait any longer to say something, you are going to look like a huge asshole. So I said I'd take the rabbit.
Which I renamed Rabbit. Or on my more endearing day Bunny.
The clean-up lasted about an hour and a half before a coffee break and about another hour and a half before lunch. For a change I started trying to find space on my hard drive and came across this picture.
That cat will beg you for donuts. It's the only thing he will beg for.
The rabbit has since died. I took the rabbit as a favor to a friend. She used to mug you for carrots, which I thought was rather cool for a rabbit. I sometimes snack on carrots. I made a mistake of telling one of my buddies the rabbits given name which was Sweetie Pie. At the rabbit's original home she had a companion named Groucho and everything was fine until a miniature pincher came to live with the rabbits. The rabbits were not happy with the new addition to the family and would run around the cage stomping their feet.
Groucho brakes his back and has to be put down. That leaves Sweetie Pie who still doesn't like the dog. The reason there were two rabbits to begin with is because there are two daughters. The mother thought it would be best if both rabbits departed the house together. So, I was asked to take Sweetie Pie. My house is kinda famous for having animals in it and I was honestly trying to cut down on new arrivals so I wasn't jumping at the idea. That is when my "sucker for a pretty lady" bad habit kicked in. There was a friend of the mother's in the room when I was asked and she (who reminds me of Julianne Moore, only more attractive) asks me point blank, "so, your not going to take the rabbit!?"....(great Julianne Moore thinks I'm an anus)
There was silence while I was thinking what a problem the rabbit was going to cause. I have a lot of work to do in the house. I do not need to worry about living things here and there.
An animal shelter couldn't be the answer because I'm certain the mother felt somewhat responsible for bringing the dog in the house and now she has to get rid of her daughters' rabbits. She needed to know the surviving rabbit would go to a good home. So, I told myself that "I'm a sucker" and to just say you'll take the rabbit right now because everyone knows that is what is going to happen and if you wait any longer to say something, you are going to look like a huge asshole. So I said I'd take the rabbit.
Which I renamed Rabbit. Or on my more endearing day Bunny.
Tuesday, January 20, 2004
This weekend was to offer either salvation or damnation. Either I was going to step right into it or I was going to get to sidestep the pile again.
The company I work for, part time, ran out of money the first day of the year. One of my responsibilities is to write checks, which include paychecks and commissions checks. The normal bill stuff can wait. You just get a bill twice as large next month.
But, checks to your coworkers are different. I’ve convinced most of the employees and agents that due to other responsibilities, there is a week delay between pay requests and when I can write the checks. If I’m really busy the delay can be longer but I try to keep it to seven days. Most people can wait the week without getting pissed off.
I’ve been using the change of the new year as an excuse for why there has been a longer delay. I’m sure folks are thinking, probably even saying out loud, what type of screw-up needs two weeks to adjust to the new year. Well, to them I’ve said there is a problem with the books, I need to fix it before I send the books to the accountant so checks are being delayed. Sorry for any inconvenience. And to myself I say you must be some choice asshole.
Money comes and money goes. Sometimes the going is more than the coming. Always in the past, delays have worked, more money would come in and the workers get paid. Problem avoided. But his month was different, I can usually see the money coming. I couldn’t his time. I told the owner bad things are coming. The owner asked to see what the company had for open business. Compiling the information I noticed that more money would be coming in. I’m not certain how that was missed. I just had to delay a little longer. Delay until Friday the 16th, that is when the money will come pouring in. Tens of thousands of dollars, enough to cover the 45K that needs to go out. I would just have to go into work on Friday night and do the paper work.
I went in Friday. No new checks. No worries, Saturday for certain. Saturday will be the day. I went in Saturday, no checks. Sunday then, I’ll go in Sunday. I wasn’t going to make a deposit on Saturday anyway. Sunday will be fine. I went in Sunday, no checks to deposit. Now I worry but there is still hope. Monday is the welcomed Martin Luther King Jr. Day. No bank business (so I can say “I can’t make a deposit so you have to wait a day but the check is in the mail") and folks will be free to come by with all the new money, for which I've been waiting. So, I get one more day but there is a catch. I’ve been able to avoid the co-workers by sneaking in at night. Monday will have to be a day operation because if things don’t shake loose on Monday other things will have to be done. Other things which cannot happen at night. I’ve only been called twice in the two weeks+ since I’ve been delaying the checks, I have to avoid those folks. I don’t know the staffing schedule. Never cared to know. Now I care.
So Monday comes. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, how am I supposed to celebrate? I feel guilty. I should do something. I grew up in a racist town. A town that is openly proud of their “no outsiders allowed” point of view. I should do something socially aware. Screw it, I’m not a racist. I’m a white dude dating a black chick. I’m doing my part. I’ve had friends that were people of color all my life. Those other folks need to get in line. Any way I’ve got too much planned for Monday. I’ve waisted most of the three day weekend waiting on money that never was to come. And the money isn’t coming. Screw it. It’s not my company. I just work there. Hell, I’m not getting paid either. No money for me since the beginning of December. I even screwed up and purchase Christmas gifts that where more expensive than I usually do, because I had some dough in the bank and I was due money from the part time job. I had spread the good cheer. Only one problem, money ran out, there is no money. There is less than no money.
Anyway, back to Monday the 19th. I started the day with plans to try and partially fix the money problem and plus I still have a lot of work to do on the house. I stayed in bed late. Why get up? There is nothing that can be done about the no money problem except to pass the blame to the owner and that really doesn’t help anyone. So that's out. Any work on the house should have been truely started on Saturday. It’s too late to start a house project now. I have to be in work on Tuesday.
So, I grab a cup of coffee, after the aches in my back become more than I wish to deal with from staying in bed, and stare out the kitchen window.
Not much too look at:
Neighbor’s garage;
Neighbor’s house;
Trees; (some of which will eventually fall over and crash into something of the neighbor’s) Where is the precise property line? I hope those trees aren’t mine.
Froot Loops; (my niece tossed them out the window for the squirrels)
Where are the squirrels? I throw stale peanuts out the window. The Froot Loops are stale too. If it’s stale, out the window. Squirrels (they show up)
The squirrels rummage about, chase each other around, sneak up to rummage while that other squirrel chases that other less fortunate squirrel away, they all pass over the Froot Loops and go for the peanuts. Why don’t the squirrels eat the Froot Loops? Is it because fruit is spelled Froot. What the heck is Froot. I look at the ingredients. Corn, oats and wheat mostly. Why wouldn’t a squirrel eat that?
The peanuts, gone. Squirrels, still there. Froot Loops still there. Great, someone is going to have to get those damn loops. Feeding squirrels is bad enough. I can’t leave “food” items just sitting there. Who taught my niece to throw crap out the window any way? And who opened the window for her? She’s not even two, she can’t open the window herself. Okay, It might have been me but why don’t those damn squirrels eat those damn Froot Loops. Damnit!
I have more pressing thing to do than to worry about uneaten Froot Loops. I can work on the house. The house can and will wait. I should have started something on Saturday, much too late now. There is that whole no money thing. Why didn’t that new money show up? That’s a different worry. Even if the money shows up on Tuesday, it’s too late. Things need to happen Monday, can’t wait for Tuesday. I need to forego the squirrels and get things in motion.
I waited for the end of the CD that was playing at the start of coffee. Chris Knight is singing about love and .45. “One will kill you. One will keep you alive.” I still haven’t figured out which one does what. Then a new squirrel shows up. I think, too late squirrel. Nothing but those damn Froot Loops. The rest of the stale peanuts, I have left, are for another day. The squirrel doesn’t care about my thoughts or that the other squirrels passed over the muti-colored cereal. This squirrel is going to have it’s own look. Muti-colored cereal just sitting outside my window in peace. I guess that is as close to a Martin Luther King Jr Day celebration as I’m going to get. I’ll leave the multi-colored loops are a symbol for racial unity.
That last squirrel, and just that last squirrel, started eating the Froot Loops. I guess racial unity isn’t going to happen today either.
I spoke to the owner, of my part time work, a personal to business loan and a loan repayment from someone else, will buy us to the end of this week. A lot of things are still left unpaid. When will that new money get here? Why doesn't the owner worry? Should her lack of worry comfort me? After all she should be worred but if she isn't worried than maybe she knows everything will work out. I wish that did appease my worry but it doesn't.
It’s not my company. I shouldn’t care more than the owner. I should care less. I need to care less. I have my own worries. Worries of my own making.
I don’t worry less. I worry more. I worry that the owner doesn’t care more than I.
And I'm still worried about the next step because I know there remains a fresh steaming pile of something still in front of me.
The company I work for, part time, ran out of money the first day of the year. One of my responsibilities is to write checks, which include paychecks and commissions checks. The normal bill stuff can wait. You just get a bill twice as large next month.
But, checks to your coworkers are different. I’ve convinced most of the employees and agents that due to other responsibilities, there is a week delay between pay requests and when I can write the checks. If I’m really busy the delay can be longer but I try to keep it to seven days. Most people can wait the week without getting pissed off.
I’ve been using the change of the new year as an excuse for why there has been a longer delay. I’m sure folks are thinking, probably even saying out loud, what type of screw-up needs two weeks to adjust to the new year. Well, to them I’ve said there is a problem with the books, I need to fix it before I send the books to the accountant so checks are being delayed. Sorry for any inconvenience. And to myself I say you must be some choice asshole.
Money comes and money goes. Sometimes the going is more than the coming. Always in the past, delays have worked, more money would come in and the workers get paid. Problem avoided. But his month was different, I can usually see the money coming. I couldn’t his time. I told the owner bad things are coming. The owner asked to see what the company had for open business. Compiling the information I noticed that more money would be coming in. I’m not certain how that was missed. I just had to delay a little longer. Delay until Friday the 16th, that is when the money will come pouring in. Tens of thousands of dollars, enough to cover the 45K that needs to go out. I would just have to go into work on Friday night and do the paper work.
I went in Friday. No new checks. No worries, Saturday for certain. Saturday will be the day. I went in Saturday, no checks. Sunday then, I’ll go in Sunday. I wasn’t going to make a deposit on Saturday anyway. Sunday will be fine. I went in Sunday, no checks to deposit. Now I worry but there is still hope. Monday is the welcomed Martin Luther King Jr. Day. No bank business (so I can say “I can’t make a deposit so you have to wait a day but the check is in the mail") and folks will be free to come by with all the new money, for which I've been waiting. So, I get one more day but there is a catch. I’ve been able to avoid the co-workers by sneaking in at night. Monday will have to be a day operation because if things don’t shake loose on Monday other things will have to be done. Other things which cannot happen at night. I’ve only been called twice in the two weeks+ since I’ve been delaying the checks, I have to avoid those folks. I don’t know the staffing schedule. Never cared to know. Now I care.
So Monday comes. Martin Luther King, Jr. Day, how am I supposed to celebrate? I feel guilty. I should do something. I grew up in a racist town. A town that is openly proud of their “no outsiders allowed” point of view. I should do something socially aware. Screw it, I’m not a racist. I’m a white dude dating a black chick. I’m doing my part. I’ve had friends that were people of color all my life. Those other folks need to get in line. Any way I’ve got too much planned for Monday. I’ve waisted most of the three day weekend waiting on money that never was to come. And the money isn’t coming. Screw it. It’s not my company. I just work there. Hell, I’m not getting paid either. No money for me since the beginning of December. I even screwed up and purchase Christmas gifts that where more expensive than I usually do, because I had some dough in the bank and I was due money from the part time job. I had spread the good cheer. Only one problem, money ran out, there is no money. There is less than no money.
Anyway, back to Monday the 19th. I started the day with plans to try and partially fix the money problem and plus I still have a lot of work to do on the house. I stayed in bed late. Why get up? There is nothing that can be done about the no money problem except to pass the blame to the owner and that really doesn’t help anyone. So that's out. Any work on the house should have been truely started on Saturday. It’s too late to start a house project now. I have to be in work on Tuesday.
So, I grab a cup of coffee, after the aches in my back become more than I wish to deal with from staying in bed, and stare out the kitchen window.
Not much too look at:
Neighbor’s garage;
Neighbor’s house;
Trees; (some of which will eventually fall over and crash into something of the neighbor’s) Where is the precise property line? I hope those trees aren’t mine.
Froot Loops; (my niece tossed them out the window for the squirrels)
Where are the squirrels? I throw stale peanuts out the window. The Froot Loops are stale too. If it’s stale, out the window. Squirrels (they show up)
The squirrels rummage about, chase each other around, sneak up to rummage while that other squirrel chases that other less fortunate squirrel away, they all pass over the Froot Loops and go for the peanuts. Why don’t the squirrels eat the Froot Loops? Is it because fruit is spelled Froot. What the heck is Froot. I look at the ingredients. Corn, oats and wheat mostly. Why wouldn’t a squirrel eat that?
The peanuts, gone. Squirrels, still there. Froot Loops still there. Great, someone is going to have to get those damn loops. Feeding squirrels is bad enough. I can’t leave “food” items just sitting there. Who taught my niece to throw crap out the window any way? And who opened the window for her? She’s not even two, she can’t open the window herself. Okay, It might have been me but why don’t those damn squirrels eat those damn Froot Loops. Damnit!
I have more pressing thing to do than to worry about uneaten Froot Loops. I can work on the house. The house can and will wait. I should have started something on Saturday, much too late now. There is that whole no money thing. Why didn’t that new money show up? That’s a different worry. Even if the money shows up on Tuesday, it’s too late. Things need to happen Monday, can’t wait for Tuesday. I need to forego the squirrels and get things in motion.
I waited for the end of the CD that was playing at the start of coffee. Chris Knight is singing about love and .45. “One will kill you. One will keep you alive.” I still haven’t figured out which one does what. Then a new squirrel shows up. I think, too late squirrel. Nothing but those damn Froot Loops. The rest of the stale peanuts, I have left, are for another day. The squirrel doesn’t care about my thoughts or that the other squirrels passed over the muti-colored cereal. This squirrel is going to have it’s own look. Muti-colored cereal just sitting outside my window in peace. I guess that is as close to a Martin Luther King Jr Day celebration as I’m going to get. I’ll leave the multi-colored loops are a symbol for racial unity.
That last squirrel, and just that last squirrel, started eating the Froot Loops. I guess racial unity isn’t going to happen today either.
I spoke to the owner, of my part time work, a personal to business loan and a loan repayment from someone else, will buy us to the end of this week. A lot of things are still left unpaid. When will that new money get here? Why doesn't the owner worry? Should her lack of worry comfort me? After all she should be worred but if she isn't worried than maybe she knows everything will work out. I wish that did appease my worry but it doesn't.
It’s not my company. I shouldn’t care more than the owner. I should care less. I need to care less. I have my own worries. Worries of my own making.
I don’t worry less. I worry more. I worry that the owner doesn’t care more than I.
And I'm still worried about the next step because I know there remains a fresh steaming pile of something still in front of me.
Monday, January 19, 2004
Sunday, January 18, 2004
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