You shouldn't live with hate in your heart but...

There this balance I maintain and mostly on a personal level I'll go alone to get alone mostly because I'm not all that particular but when I think something is being forced upon me then that is when I start to show my fangs.

I've been told more than once that I like everyone. That statement is untrue. I try to tolerate everyone but when I can't, then one more name is added to my hate list and my hate list carries a lot of street cred.

Most don't know Amy's name but she the one that does the Bud promotions

So, the guy next to me ordered three shots of Patron Silver and the bartender asked who they were for and the guy said "Me, him and my friend," as he pointed to me with his thumb.

The guy was a regular but a new regular, I moved a seat down so that he could sit with his other regular friend. I good like that.

Later the guy on my other side bought me a pint. Folks love me. "Just so you know he's not gay," the bartender said as she placed the beer in front of me. I said "Thanks for noticing," because I have no problem with gay folks but for just a buck fifty draft, I still think women are prettier.

I was sipping my pint when she rested her arms on the bar and asked "Where were you Tuesday?" I answered with a half truth and a half lie, "I must have been busy or I thought you didn't have any day shifts." She let me off the hook. When I told her I had to go she asked who started my tab; I told her and said "She usually rings me under number five." Her eyes widened with surprise as she asked me how I knew that, I merely said that I ask questions.


Twice today I had wished I had one of my cameras

I am a fight fan although I'm not a fan of fighting

I dropped my gaze to his jaw line; picking out the spot where I would like to crack him one. In my mind's eye the punch is always a short uppercut which snaps back the head and rattles the brain. They don't always get knocked out but they always go down.

My other favorite punch is a left hook right below the rib cage; a liver shot. Punching someone in the liver causes then to drop to their knees; the drop is always takes longer than you would think.

Too bad I don't actually go around punching people.

my questions are devious

So, I said that I had missed her Sunday. She asked who was working; I told her Nicky and trailed off because I didn't know the other waitress' name.

"The new Emily. Blonde?"

"Yes, because it wasn't neither Stephanie or Jackie."

"I like Emily."

"But you don't like the others?" I said with a mischievous smile.

"Oh, no, I like Nicky and Stephanie. There is someone I don't like working with."

"But they will remain nameless."

She nodded.

"Even though you just named all the other people you like."

three tops

I was in the top three of "many, many" applications, "A surprising amount of applications."

He said he liked my writing.

Business letters, if you were wondering.

I still keep most of my other writing secret.


I think it's time for a change.


I'm tired.


I'm sore.

not as in "I'm sore at you." But then you probably know that because I'm not a hillbilly.


I'm hungry too.

not as in "He was hungry for peace." I want something like a cheeseburger. Although, peace would be nice too.

She said "Look what happened," as she pulled on the straps to her top, a little down and apart which revealed more than just the slight sunburn she had.

I never know if they do those things just to give me a hard time or that they are just comfortable enough around me not to worry about flashing a little skin. Either way, I usually play it cool.

However, my reply was a little delayed as I was calculating the extents of her tan line.

Shhh...

Some people just need to talk and then they end up talking too much. I'm not afraid of quietness. It's okay to be still.


She lit up as she called my name. She was sneaking a bit of lunch to the left of the taps where it's hard for the patrons to see her. I ignored all the glances in my direction as I headed towards a seat near Tony and Dennis.

She was still beaming as she came over and told me that she was glad that I was there. She informed me that she would be in need of some espresso which meant coffee based drinks were in both of our futures.

Another regular joined us later and we started buying rounds for each other. I know Tony doesn't like it when you buy him a round. He doesn't like it because "Then you feel obligated to buy a around and then you end up drinking more than you want. You should just buy your own beer." I agree with Tony and there are times I won't reciprocate that day.

When I went to get the espresso, the new arrival left, and Tony followed after which just left me with Dennis. My escape came when another regular came in with a friend. I relocated so that they could sit together. Dennis left after he finished his beer.

Emily stood in front of me and smiled as I rolled my eyes as he left.

"I try not to sit next to him. He's not a bad guy. He just never shuts up. And he tells you all his worldly wisdom."

"Only he has none."

I smiled as I said "Exactly."

he's a poor witness

He's not a liar but his stories can't be trusted. I don't know what the opposite of wearing rose colored glasses is but I'm certain he does it.


It's seasonal where my choicest seat is, if the heat or A/C isn't running then it's chair number two, otherwise it number one then followed by number three. The worst is in the corner followed by the one next to that. I end up in the seats I don't like too often.

But the thing about the seats I don't like is that you get a top to bottom view of the barkeeps when they're pouring drafts that you don't get from any other seat. I don't go there to ogle so those seats still suck but I do notice things. And I was noticing that her jeans weren't doing her ass justice when I a spilling beer caught my eye. It was a full pint. The bartenders have a bit of distain for those who spill their beers all over the bar.

I remember thinking "Her day just got worse." Things were moving in slow motion just like in any accident that you see coming. I noticed that the beer wasn't just going to soak the bar and run off into the ice chest, it was traveling faster than that.

Emily was pouring a draft from the first of seven taps but even that wasn't far enough away. It caught her right above her waist line, soaked the right side of her ass and down to her shoe.

Her shift wouldn't end for another twelve hours. I was running through all the places in the area that sold women's jeans on a Sunday afternoon and could name three. I then thought about what size she was, I guessed a two only because I don't like thinking about women being a size zero.

I didn't make any eye contact with her because I knew she was pissed and it took her a few minutes to calm down.

"And you know what? I brought an extra pair of jeans today because I knew something stupid was going to happen today."

"Yeah, and when he started talking to you I just wanted to tell him just to shut up, there was nothing he could say that would make it better but he just kept on talking."

That's one pissed off napper

I know...

I know you think that I have it easy. Like all I have to do all day is to sit at the bar sipping Margaritas and snap photos of the reflection of the neon light that reminds the locals that in 2004 the hometown team won it all.





But I do have some problems. Problems that are much like a 1/2 in. bolt sticking out of my tire.

you shove off

I blew off Sunday because I was spending quality time with Emily, so I showed up on Monday.

I continue to find it odd that when I'm there on a non-scheduled day that everyone wants to talk to me.

Dude, I'm not even supposed to be here. Please leave me alone.

She walked up the stairs to tell me that I had a phone call and mentioned a name that had a familiar ring to it but that I was certain I didn't know. I questioned that the caller asked for me. I was told he asked for the owner first and me second. I took the call. It was the son of some seventy-two year old guy biking across the country with the hopes of raising money for some well known kids' club.

I had done a post card a few days prior for the event and hadn't heard back from anyone so I forgot about it. He said that what I did was very good and that he had a printer that would print them for free but that he needed camera ready art for the front, which was done and the back, which was not.

"My father's looking for a designer".

"I do it mostly as a hobby," I said to deflect any job offers.

"Well, you're good at it."

"Thanks," I said and let it drop.

I'm okay with what I did but I'm not happy with it. I think it could be better. I think it's at 73 percent.

it's not about you

So, he starts telling me things about what he thinks should be out there so I asked him if what he is saying is what the petition that the neighborhood sent in said or if he's "making shit up?"

He got a little angry but he stuck his nose in somewhere it didn't need to be and I'm not pulling my punches.

quiet down up there

"Pick up your damn feet!"

I do a lot of yelling in my head. If you're doing something stupid and my eyes glaze over a bit: I'm yelling in my head and if you confront me with it, I'll just smile my mischievous grin.

But if I think you're alright with it, I'll actually tell you what I was think-yelling.

Hot wife

So, I was told that I seemed a little more cranky than usual. I told him to keep his retarded statements to himself or I would set his wife on fire.

I sometimes wonder how much folks think this is real. Can you tell the phony bits?

I think that I can be happy if I just change a couple of things but I make no effort to change those things.

minutia and madness

I never say a lot anywhere so I do a lot of listening and watching. We were sitting having coffee just like we always do. We catch each other up on what happened the days before and what is expected for the day.

I watched as he knocked over his cup. The cover stayed on as it hit the granite bench and started to roll. My thoughts ran through all that I would have done to save as much coffee as possible if I were in his position. He didn't do any of them.

As he tried to right the cup, he pushed it quicker to the edge, where it fell over. It hit the cobblestones without a bounce; the cover still on. He was still chasing after it with his clumsy hand.

"Don't squeeze it," was shouted inside my head right before he squeezed it and popped the cover off and the coffee gushed forth. I turned my head to hide my laughing but someone else just laughed out loud.

He was rather pissed at spilling his coffee, more so than the loss of a dollar sixty five.

"At least you didn't get any on," I said, and the guy who laughed said "Yeah, it could have been a lot worse."

"And you made his day," I said as I pointed to the guy who laughed.

He was still angry, as he tossed his empty cup into the flower bed behind him. He fished out later as we left.

just keep looking straight ahead

He's not a bad guy; he's just a little strange and delicate. I sat next to him so he wouldn't feel slighted.

I had to leave but knew that I would be back within an hour so I asked the bartender if there was anything she wanted. Her answer was a coffee so I brought her one and also oatmeal raisin chocolate cookies, which I knew she would share.

"He said that he felt bad that he didn't bring anything in for me," the she said after the guy left. "It's like he thinks it's some sort of competition. He also says you don't say much."

I just shook my head. He's a guy that doesn't know when to shut up. He's full of nervous energy and poor social skills. He thinks giving unsolicited Victoria Secret gift cards is appropriate. I think doing so sends an inappropriate message.

When he sings the praises of a bartender that used him for free underwear, I just remain quiet. I found her to be cold. I told her once she was hard to get a read on. She told me that she tries to keep her personal life separate from her business life. The other bartenders didn't like her and rejoiced a bit when she was told not to come back one day. Some of the others labeled her a "dirty whore," I couldn't disagree with the whore part.

The guy lives in a different world than the one I see and I'm pretty sure that it's his vision that is faulty. His world is exaggerated, there are good things and bad things and nothing is just a thing.

I don't say much to the guy because I'll change his dream world.

I just want a fair shake at it

I don't think I'm bipolar but I'm sure I have a couple folks that think I am. I'm often calm and collected when others are in a panic over issues that catch us by surprise but there are other times, I'll get loud.

Those other times are when bad things happen when they could have been easily avoided, times when I could have succeeded at something but was caused to fail because of some monkey wrench throwing fool crossed my path.

"Listen, when I'm saving YOUR day, you have just one responsibility and that is too keep freaking idiots away from me whenever possible. That means after the phone has rung for the thirteenth time and most likely that there is a nutcase on the other end, you need to put down your bagel and pick up YOUR own freaking phone. If you leave me to do it, I will get a bit cranky."

bag of beads

six thousand four hundred and ninety eight. six thousand four hundred and ninety nine...




You've got to love quality furniture.

So, as you can see I was taking photos of the neices. I was using my new Canon Rebel XT with the 18-55mm lens. I know this camera isn't the best out there but I got a deal on it. Anyway, I was setting up a shot or checking how wide the wide angle was when one of them pops up in front of me and says "Hi, Timmy."



I knew it couldn't focus on her that close but I took the shot anyway and then I heard another "Hi, Timmy," only this 'Hi, Timmy' was said in a voice that came from deep inside someone's chest, like an americanized little girl samurai.


It was her sister doing a darn good job of making it look like she was made of plastic.

So, mice...

if you really want to get rid of mice don't mess about with any other mouse trap than this type.



but you just can't use it straight from the package. You have to adjust this part here.



From the package that part is bent to far to the right (depending on how you hold it) and that makes it too hard for some dinky mouse to trip it. So you have to bend that part close to verticle which makes it very sensitive.

I walked a mile in my shoes

I'm sure he's not a fan of the decision I made but I was quite done with sitting at my desk.

However, I did get things done and at the end of the day that is all that should matter.

If he doesn't like that I took public transportation to a certain part of town and then hoofed it to and fro, he can get some car that can stay out of the garage for more than a week.

You're more incognito when you're not tooting about town in a vehicle with your employer's name all over it.

14,580 ft from there to there (I'm not counting the here to there), there to there equals 2.76 miles.

I did the math



I didn't think it was going to be that much.

I'm pretty sure that's a urine stain beneath the date

I wonder how many txt files I have that I haven't posted.

I wonder what they say.

(I'm pretty sure that's a urine stain beneath the date)

A good photo tells a story. I guess a bad photo is like annoying chatter.

The boss asked how the photos from the new camera were; I said that I really didn't like them and explained that the fault was with me and not the camera. I forced all those photos and didn't have the camera set properly. The story they tell is unfocused.

I took some other photos a day after I took the first ones. I haven't seen them yet. I know a couple of them have extraneous characters to the story I wanted to tell.

(Stupid fat guy)

When I ran out of stories, I practiced tracking the seagulls. When I got tired of that a thought hit me so I drove to take an exterior picture of a current listing, which was one of the justifications for getting the camera in the first place.

I never read the instructions first. I'm not opposed to reading instructions first and if that's your thing- I think that's great. It's just not my thing.

I like to push all the buttons and see what happens and then later when I can't figure out how to work a certain feature, I'll refer to the instructions. I think I learn better hands-on.

So it was with little surprise, as soon as the battery was charged I shoved it into the camera and drove somewhere to take some photos.

I wasn't super pleased with any of them but then it was a new camera and I was losing day light all on top of I've haven't used a SLR in over twenty-two years and even back then I don't think I knew I was doing, with f stops and aperture settings and whatnots.

Is white balance important? Focal lengths?

I took to reading the manual later that day but the manual really wasn't made for reading and my usual m.o. is to go buy a book, so the next day I bought a book.

While I was thumbing through the book I thought that there was a lot to learn and then I thought about the features that my new camera is compatible of and thought that that was a lot to learn as well. Then I thought: that's a lot of learning, you'll spend over a thousand dollars on a camera that you really haven't a clue how to use and be willing to invest a bunch of time in learning how to use it but yet you won't make any effort to get better at some of the things you already know.

Then I told myself to bug off; the camera's not going back so I might as well use it.


My hobby is collecting hobbies.


I don't know why it's an issue but I try to avoid issues so I dropped by. I had missed her last two day shifts and she new I was still dropping by during the day so I felt I owed her a visit. While I was there she asked what I wanted from Vegas.

I grinned and looked to my right to the patron sitting there and told her that I would tell her later. "I'm not bringing you back any hoochies. Is there anything you collect?" I thought for a moment, for awhile it was mugs, a different moment it was baseball hats, bottle openers, pins, t-shirts, local currency; there was no one thing.

She told me that I was making it hard on her. I told her "I don't want anything. You should go to enjoy yourself." I've tried to bring back things for my friends from my travels and I've received things from my friends' travels and I appreciate the thought but at the end of the day when there is some trinket taking up room on your desk from a trip that you didn't take - I think it is a waste.

Buy a postcard while you're there and then hand it to me when you get back if you must get something.

I was losing my light so I packed up the camera and drove to the office. I parked out front and walked to the back. The back door has one less lock and the keypad to the alarm system is closer.

The owner was in the patio area planting flowers. I just stood there after I said "Hi." I thought it was an odd way to spend the waning hours of Mother's Day and I wanted to offer her some help; I not sure why I didn't.

I told her I was trying out a new camera when she asked why I was there as I pulled it from its case. I told her Best Buy was offering a good deal on it and that I had some room on a credit card.

Money-wise times are tough but we weathered things like this before. I fidgeted a bit as I tried to move in some direction; either into the office or over to help her. I really didn't want to help plant flowers but I didn't want to just leave her either.

As I watched the plant she was working with, I told myself "Go or stay." She looked alone but she looked at peace; she away from her worries just a bit.

"How much did it cost you?"

"About nine hundred after the four year service contract."

"Once I sell some of my units, I give you the money. Just remind me, because I want to do it."

I didn't want the money. I just wanted her to start earning some more and maybe spending a little less but both of those are not totally controllable in the real estate world. If I had taken every thing she has offered me, I'd be a richer man but I keep the books, I know what's around and what is not.

I went inside. I was mucking up her peace.

Typical

"Hey, when do I get my circle template back?"

"Is your name on it?"

"I shouldn't have to put my name on things to keep people from stealing it."

"I had one and someone stole mine."

"That doesn't mean you can go thieving my things."

"You know where it is."

"Alright, but if I have to go on a reconnaissance mission I just might grab some other things."

"Yeah?"

"Just start putting your name on shit, is all I'm saying."

I knew her as Miss Gray

I have a habit of watching what buttons people push. I noticed she pushed the button for one floor one higher than my own.

I felt it odd to see her two days after I had just done a mental rundown of all the teachers I would have liked to have 'molested' me while I was a student.

I thought maybe she had taken a job in the building but as I was searching the company email I realized that most likely she was just here for the retirement board, it's been many years since she had me as a student and she could have been easily teaching eight years prior to that.

She seemed a little smaller and only looked a little older; she still had a nice ass. I was a little unsure if it was her or not until she said "Certainly" in her deep husky voice after I said "Excuse me," to get past her as the elevator doors opened to my floor.

I later walked up the stairs and saw her waiting in the lobby of the retirement board. "Hi, it's Tim you taught me high school English twenty two years ago. I'm still under achieving," isn't a great opening line so I just continued down the hallway.

...

Sometimes, my eyes just can't take in enough of her. Sometimes, the her changes.

I have a habit of over booking my tomorrows

Things would usually come about. Things that would assign a value to my existence. Things that I could point to and say "That's why I'm here."

But things get old. New days dawn. "That's why you were here."

Good deeds are like sleep, there is no saving up. They are both debts incurred. You can catch up but you can never get ahead.

Standing still is falling behind.

I have a habit of over booking my tomorrows.

Sometimes, I shoot photos

It comes and goes.

You know, it ebbs and flows.



You gotta at least try or I've have no respect for you.



I was walking with my four year old niece in the park across the street from my house. There are stairs there that just basically lead up; they don't bring you to any particular destination they just go up. At the end of the stairs is a trail, the trail exists because after you walk up all those stairs and find out that there is no where to go you feel cheated so you just start walking and enough people have done that to leave a trail - actually two. One trail runs along a ledge, the other goes higher.

She led my up the stairs and then she turned around to go back. I asked why we couldn't take the trial that goes higher. She said "I don't like high places," so I asked about the other one and she said "That looks like forest and I don't like forest."

Later we blew all the dandelion seeds all over the park.



Sometimes I'll drink massive amounts of water just so I'll get to leave my desk later in the day.

That's not true.

Haven't I mentioned there was a pig in the house?

Maybe not because I had trouble finding pictures of him




Here's a cat that's in the house as well

Please just take it outside boys - I don't feel like being a hero today

The message usually always gets across but there are times when the style is rather potent which is great when it happens but when it doesn't I think the thing is a failure.

"I see the worth but I don't like it."


I cut out a couple minutes early, six to be exact so I guess that's more than a couple. I had time sensitive things to do at the second job and had wanted to get started on them. I was standing at the end of the platform going over my list of things to do when my attention was drawn to two teenage boys who had just called out to a third.

The three of them stood about twelve feet from me and I overheard one of them say "Yeah, so I grabbed two," he was holding cell phones. I looked up the platform after he said "Oh, shit. Here comes the dude." A guy in his early forties wearing a t-shirt and the signs of a tired life was walking with purpose to our location.

I sighed because no matter what was about to happen I was going to be involved.

Even though the guy said that the kid was on camera taking the phone the kid denied having it. Things got loud and physical; someone called the police. The scene escalated and folks started to move away as one was pushing to get away and the other was tightly holding on to his jersey collar. I was calculating when to get involved as I stood my ground. I crossed my arms as I widen my stance. I rolled my eyes a bit as I had two women trying to escape the scene stand by me; I worried that I was going to need as much room as I could get. I wondered when the punches would come.

The guy finally let go of the kid when the kid's buddy produced a phone. We all knew it wasn't the stolen phone because his buddy removed the simm card from it. Then some public transportation official finally showed up as the train I was waiting for entered the station.

The scene was over so I got on but it was an angry ride for me because some two bit thief almost screwed up my evening.

more than just a simple one

I got an email from a former co-op. She works for an engineering firm in the area now. She was asking about the co-worker who died.

I wrote her what I knew and added something someone said. It wasn't my best piece of writing but it did convey my message.

Here's part of her reply.

I just started crying when I read this:
I think you remember Frank Mahoney, he used to have coffee with us, he used to call her everyday, he told me “She was my best friend.”


When I first told Frank, he said "She was my friend," and said it like it was news to me. Two days later, at the wake, he added the adjective best. A lot of people tend to exaggerate when it comes to someone who had just died. I don't think that happened in Frank's case. I think he had time to reflect on his relationship and realized that it was more than just a simple one.

I would often take calls between the two of them and they would frequently refer to each other as a pain in the ass but they were never too busy to take the call and they would drop off, if they had been put on hold.

I roll my eyes a lot.

She likened it to the difference between fucking and love making. He asked what the difference was. She motioned in my direction and said "Ask him."


Note to self: Can the fountain fill.


I've taken to leaving myself notes in this space.

I used the fountain fill feature on the card for that fundraiser. I always want to use a fountain fill but I have yet to like the looks of it when it prints out. So, I'll try it with a solid color (uniform fill) and possibly us some design element to break up the monotonalness.


Sometimes, I get tired of always talking folks down. Sometimes, I'll let them carry-on and let them deal with the consequences.

"I sort of got carried away there," they will say.

"Yeah, no shit."

Hey Tim, print out that form for Karen.

And how about finally changing the apartment ads?

Change the font on the informational stuff on the redesign of the business cards.

Add the views to the webpage. Finish cropping and color correcting those photos and print out a new "views" book.


Regarding my visits to a certain bar room someone said:
"Some might say you're an alcoholic but I know you're just a very thoughtful person."


I'm tired of my routine. I think I'm due for a change.

April 12 - E.H.
March 21 - J.R.

She knows I have trouble with saying no when it's only me that suffers.


She pouted and stomped her feet when I told her I was leaving. It turned me on a little but not enough to stay.


She asked what was new. I just shrugged my shoulders and said that it wasn't anything that would impress her and she would most likely just make fun of it. She nodded in agreement but two days later she had some information on me that I hadn't told her and she was nicer to me which is why I'm not convinced she's a bitch.


My mom likes it when folks treat me like a big shot.


There were five Skittles left; one of each color. It was done on purpose. I lined them up in the order of the rainbow and ate them one by one. I pretended the purple one was actually blue.

I was supposed to have taken pictures of the view from my roof down to the park across the street and from the newly panted tree up to where I could be seen if I had stood up, but I didn't yet maybe later.

After the roof repair, I went into the real estate office and worked on the redesign of the business cards. As usual, I wasn't pleased but could see some worth with what I had and printed them out.

When the owner saw them the next day, she said she liked them. Someone asked what was wrong with them when I said I wasn't crazy about them. She is the type of person who is bubbly when bubbly is inappropriate; she has no critical eye. I told her that she would not understand.

They have no pop, no hook. They seem familiar. They seem to merely present information.


I dropped by not knowing for sure or not she would be there, if she was, she wasn't going to be loving it. Sometimes a familiar face helps as long as that face isn't attached to an asshole.

As she was pouring my second beer she asked a question.

"Are you losing weight?"

I turned my eyes from the filling pint glass to her.

"This isn't me being a bitch or anything. I'm not trying to be mean."

"Yeah, a little."

"Are you bulimic?"

"Does drinking too much and throwing up count?"

"Are you on a diet or something?"

"No. After working the second job I would often go home at midnight and eat and then go to bed. I've just stopped eating after seven."

She was the second person that day to ask about my weight loss. I've kind of always knew how to drop a few pounds without much effort, I've just recently decided to do something about it.

And if I start working out - ladies beware.