i woke up this morning, with some kind of fixation on this thought.... not that it was a dream... just with the idea of being left to freeze to death.... and for some reason, at the hand of my friends... and it all kept playing out like this to me.


i open my eyes, to find myself sitting, huddled, on the ground. at first, all i noticed was the near blinding snow, that was stinging my eyes. then i felt the cold. i felt colder than id ever been before. as if ice water was poured over me, but wouldnt run off. i reach my arms up to my shoulders to huddle up, and i notice that i have no sleeves. no gloves. no shirt. no pants. no shoes. im completely naked, and im sitting on a patch of ice. the cold is all i feel. the wind gusts and rips through my hair, blowing more ice and snow particles to my eyes. i try not to cry, but i cant help it. but i feel the tears harden and crystalize before they fall from my lower eye lid. i can feel the tears expand and solidify, cutting into my skin. as i breathe in, it burns my lungs. the cold air sears its way into my nose and mouth, shocking my body into taking in half the amount of air it wants to. i can feel my nasal passages freezing. the cold is all i can feel. for the first time, i open my eyes, and look around. i had to have come from somewhere. about 30 feet away, i see faces. people i know. friends. maybe more. all of them are watching me. every one is dressed warmly. they all seem to be comfortable. but im shivering. shuddering against the wind each time it picks up and blows into my pores. my fingers to my wrists are numb. painfully numb. with work i move them from the first joint, but no farther. my legs from my knees down wont respond. and they all stand by. each holds an article of clothing. my clothing. all of them stare. they look. but they say nothing. they watch me, as im freezing to death, stripped of everything i had to clothe myself with against the world. i look at their eyes. i look hard. i try to open my mouth, to plead... to beg for what was mine. but my lips rip and bleed. they had frozen together. i can feel the blood seep down to my chin where it freezes. and they watch. i try to scream. but i cant keep enough air in my lungs. its too cold out. and my body is doing all it can to keep from freezing. it prevents me from taking in more cold air. and i watch as my skin has turned to white-blue in places. i look at them. there are no tears for me. no one moves to me. and some turn their backs and walk away. i just want to scream, WHY? WHY? but its clear, im being left to die. thats the only thought that pushes out the cold. that this is how i will die. alone. stripped bare. left to the elements. and watched. this is how im going to die. the cold is nearly paralyzing me. i cant fight it. i cant move. my vision is blury. my eyes cant stay moist. my arms are useless, and my hands have frozen over my elbows. there is no feeling left. just the cold. i let my head go down. afraid to look anymore at myself, and ashamed to look at these people. the agony of dying alone... of freezing to death as a spectacle at the hands of the people you trust and called friends... i cant watch it. i would cry for myself, because someone should. but no one around me will. they just look at me. as a rock. as a lifeless chunk, slowly turning to ice. i feel sharp stings in my back. i cant life my head, its become too hard to move. but i can turn it some and look side ways to see someome behind me. somehow, i can see what i can not actually see. they take small barbs, that are heated and push them into my skin, then pull them out. its torture. because i cant feel the touch of the sharp edges... but the heat burns my skin and nerves and produces the pain sensation for me. i can feel what they are doing. until they pull and rip them out. each takes their chunk of me. ripping and tearing me apart in small inch sections. watching the skin crack. seeing it flake apart. feeling the chilled blood ooze out to freeze in the tears. i can only close my eyes now. taking my last shallow breaths, i remember each of their faces. each one. each persons look. their eye color. the shape of their nose. the hint of freckles. the mole. that scar. that smile. this hair color. all of it. and somehow i can see them walk off, without seeing them. theyve left me now. and i am alone, left for dead.

so another post about nonsense i guess. all in all, life is settling into a groove again. maybe a rut. but i doubt its deep enough to be a rut. to put any wandering minds to rest; they have me working 6 days a week. generally the shitty hours no one else takes. i tend to be the only person out of the shift that sticks around to deal with customers. everyone else runs off. sometimes i find them upstairs, sometimes out back, sometimes i have to page them on the store pa several times to find out where they go to. i think for the most part im getting comfortable with what i do. but atleast once per day someone comes in asking for something just totally off the wall, or just complains about how they dont like me. ive also found the employees to be rather clique-ish. im not really accepted among 90% of them. and i guess, its just hard to remember what that feeling was like; because its just been so long since ive been dumped into a situation like that. the copier gig never really let me deal with anyone but customers. at staples, after about 2 weeks id made friends with a couple people that broke me over with the whole store. at the res hall goverments, i knew everyone. i guess id have to go back to working at the newspaper or the craft store for that "we dont like you new-hire" attitude. but really, even at the newspaper, i didnt have that. once i was accepted by 2 people thats all that mattered. the other people really werent high-functioners that i dealt with. remember.... this is the place that hired a girl with mental disabilities and carried a cabbage patch doll to work; and had the two rednecks that argued one day over who's mother taught whom better to survive in the wilderness. shudder. such a dirty place. so maybe in a way its like that time. i really worked there because i had no other choices; and because it was 3rd shift and allow me to beatup on myself a little when no one else was really around. in this respect, its somewhat the same, and somewhat the opposite. this time im constantly around people. i just never get to be around the people i want to be around. and i beat myself up worse than ever. unloading 300 pound cabinets, or 500 pound whirlpools for people. its all pretty much the same day, over and over. thats where that rut part comes in i guess. i work. i get a 20 minute lunch. i eat the same thing for lunch. i go back to work. after that, i go home. my parents are usually asleep. i sit and stare at the computer for a couple minutes. then try to sleep. and thats about it. its not what i expected to happen to my life. and not at this price, either.

i guess i envisioned myself doing it for more money. the same boredom. the same general disatisfaction. the same sense of expecting to have more than i do. but maybe bumped up a notch. from down here, none of it seem so nice to think about. if anything, its depressing to think about it more than i should. i guess, that maybe its the universe balancing out. the karmatic process of leveling out for me. for several years, i guess i had lots of excitement, and chances for lots more. so maybe now, as penalty, i dont get any chances. i become hapless. not helpless. but not far from it.

Si, Se, Puede















Yesterday was the great walk out day for emmigrant mexicans in America. Lets call it what it was. While the groups maintain other agendas, such as human rights, or hispanic or latino rights; it really is about mexican emigrants. Its about a one way path from mexico to the united states for permanance. There wasnt chanting about sweat shop labor, or ship breakers in india. There wasnt anyone of Spanish descent. See the term Hispanic really means a person from the Iberian penninsula, a place in latin, known as Hispania. Latino is a generic term often afforded too, but it means a localized geography of latin american states. No one was from El Salvador that I met. No one was from Columbia. Everyone was from mexico. And when I say "i met", I mean yesterday there was a large demonstration from Illinois crossing the Mississippi River to Iowa, culminating in a rally of sorts. And I attended.

I wasnt sure what to expect. For my generation, there really only was Rodney King, as far as ethnic uprisings to watch. King had a different circumstance. People probably should be outraged with what happened to him. However, I remember being in 6th or 7th grade, and watching all the black kids get up and walk out. They were angry. Some started running around yelling "black power" but in reality it was nothing. Since then, I sat through who-knows-how-many hours of classroom work in sociology. Even one course just on Social Movements. So for me to see this type of situtation develop, was like taking Einstein and giving him a seat for atomic testing. It gives him the result of everything he sat and contemplated, but could never really see happen. So I wanted to see it happen. The entire issue has blown up to national focus. But all along, its keeping a strong locally rooted support from interested parties. So when they declared some sort of action, i wanted to watch. And i found myself sitting on the steps of the Rock Island County Court House, watching nearly 3,000 people line up to walk across the Centenial Bridge.

I thought about why it mattered. It didnt really matter to me. In what I do with my daily life, illegal immigrants dont really have much impact. And I dont necessarily buy into the arguments of "human rights" they had been talking about. For me, there was that academic connection; watching lightning strike. That. And there is a historical connection. My great-grand parents were illegal. Its very likely that they never registered and became documented. Victor and Felicetes Alvarado came here from some small town near north-central Mexico City, sometime from 1900 to 1919. The story goes that he came here looking for work, hitched his way up on the railroad, wound up in bumblefuck illinois and got work in a farmfield, and eventually a factory, then sent for his bride back from Mexico to meet him in Texas. Problem was, the wrong sister came to the Rio Grande, and floated across the river with him, and by the time he saw her it was too late; and he ended up marrying the wrong sister. But the first offical documentation we have found between them and any branch of government, is their listing on the US Census. They were marked as undocumented. My dad tells stories of visiting his grandparents; and his grandmother who would never answer the door. She would always run upstairs to the attic and look out a small window with a curtain. She was worried, even at that age, of the immigration officials. He also says that she would follow the railroad tracks to walk into town, never using the lit, public streets and sidewalks. She wanted to remain unseen, where the police or who-knows-whom, couldnt find her. Ive seen their house. Its unused, and abandoned now. But the window and its curtain are still their. And the railroad tracks, also gone mostly forsaken now, still run not far from the house. I could hardly visualize it. A dark haired, spanish speaking woman walking along the rails at night, taking the back way into a town as small and sleepy as Kewanee, IL, in the 1950's. A woman so entrenched in fear, she would always look first before opening the door to her own home. They never owned a phone. She never really learned english. But she was family to me, even though she died 15 years before I was born.

As I sat on the steps, I felt like I should be moved. That I should have been moved to wear a white t-shirt and walk with these people. Or, that I should be moved to protest against it. Again, there is a strong pull from myself that recongnizes the problems with offering amnesty or guest work permits. There was the part of me as a sociologist, that I should have been motivated to do more studying, talking to the crowd, more interviewing, more documenting. But I just wasnt moved very far from the steps. I sat watching everyone else act out. I knew my history. I knew how I came to be. But even so, I took pictures and sat and thought about it all.

so it rained today. about 3 inches worth. people knew it was going to rain. its been raining since friday. but. at 6pm, an hour before the store closes; half of rock island comes in trying to buy sump pumps. people were screaming, stomping around, bitching and moaning about water in the basement, water on the stairs, water in the drains, water on the brain.... sigh. just idiocy on a mass level. we sold 34 sump pumps in less than 2 hours. we sold 70 packages of drainage hose. and still, people are complaining. but really. its been raining since friday. it rained all day; is it really a rush now? when the water probably has been collecting all weekend? sigh.

todays winners also included... "Do you sell okra? No? Its not a food. Give me someone who knows a damn about plumbing then." Four of us had never heard of okra. other than as a food. we all refused to tell mister idiot, that its oakum. its jute cord soaked in oil. but we let him babble on about okra. thank god it wasnt oprah.

another tall young woman, with her very short boyfriend admitted to me that they needed a bigger shower because sometimes they use it together. i laughed, and made a flippant comment about how rushed it gets in the mornings sometimes. she corrected me that they have sex in it. appearantly; that was supposed to help find a shower for them. i dunno.

some idiot asked me if a specific plunger worked right. it was one with accordian pleats in it. i told him, "no... it works fine, but it tends to catch stuff in all those pleats in it" he looked at me. 'what kind of stuff?' i reminded him we were talking about whatever it was hes blocked his toilet up with. he didnt say anything. but his wife wrinkled up her nose. thankfully someone understood.

i had a customer demand to open a box because he wanted to see the color of the finish. so we did. then he said hed buy it, but only one that hadnt been opened. and he refused to take the one he just watched me open.

a woman called on the phone asking about drainage kits for cinder-block walls. i told her we sell them in a kit and by pieces. she asked how much per foot. i told her 48" pieces are 22 dollars. well, she asks how much the kit is. i tell her its 287 dollars, and does 30 linear feet. she gets mad. "what the hell does that mean?" i explain to her that if you put all the pieces in a line, it was go 30 feet. she didnt get it, and told me to stop talking down to her. then complained that i wouldnt tell her how much per foot the pieces cost. i told her each four foot section was 22 dollars. she still claimed i was using big words and was trying to cheat her.

the hot cashier came around trying to put away returns. i tried to make small talk with her. it turns out shes 18. sigh. she asked how old i was. i told her i was 25. "eww gross, and youre hitting on me!" sadly i wasnt. she did mention something to me later about how she didnt think i was that old. sigh. but she told me that one cashier working that day was 36. which surprised me, because i figured that person was younger than i was.

another wonderful time at menards.

since people always like it when i do this... so starting just after midnight... i knew today was going to be fucked up. the past few days ive been getting sicker and sicker... by brother was nice enough to come home and spread ebola/hanta/mumps/whatever, hacking and weezing all over. although my mom swears i cant have what he has... because its affecting me worse.....

12:15. im sick. i cant breathe. my throat is on fire. my neck is so swollen its not comfortable to put my head down. and then the vomit hits. its not that id been nauseous. its all the mucus and shit draining that did it. regardless. it came up.

2:22. cant sleep. im alternating chills and fever. this time its fever, so i get up to get some cold wash cloths, and find myself unable to fall asleep again.

3:15. hacking and coughing up yellow shit so loud, that the dog comes downstairs. still not a peep from parents. i make it back to the bathroom in enough time to barf up more mucus.

3:45. i sit in my desk char, wrap up with a blanket, and just try to stay comfortable as possible.

5:10 alarm goes off. i managed about an hour of sleep. and now i get to go to work.

5:32 after coming out of the shower i realize i have no matching socks, only bright red boxers, dirty pants and dirty shirts to wear. fucking fantastic. i hack up something brown in glee.

5:40 they are watching stupid fucking Today show. i HATE the Today show. i also realize there isnt any good cereal left to eat. only oat bran shit. fucking disgusting. i look for soup, strain the noodles out and eat it instead. besides, noodles will just be ammunition they way im feeling.

5:55 no ice cubes. someone ahem. took the last in their 215 cans of soda per day consumption; so there isnt any for my waterbottle. i get warm water to drink today. i make some comment about. im told my brother is sick, that i should lay off it. i cough so hard i have to sit down. its insisted that im faking it.

6:01 get in the car. atleast dave and darren are funny this morning. eventhough my head hurts so bad i cant keep the volume up enough to hear it.

6:10 somewhere downtown davenport, a random sneeze... i blow yellow and brown shit all over my window. fucking great.

6:30 lane closures on the I-74. some stupid ass lawn truck lost shit off the back. sitting in traffic, about 3 miles backed up, i wonder why the snot isnt dry on the window yet

6:48 i get to walmart in moline, hopefully with enough time to buy some dope. they dont sell much in heroin strength. so i get fist fucked for 4.76 on a bottle of throat spray and 3 dollars for a bag of ass flavored cough drops. aww fuck it. i open the bag and start munching on some on my way.

6:51 get in line to check out. as usual. walmart only can afford 3 people who are smart enough to handle cash. walmart somehow can attract 65 customers at that point in the day. all of which seem to be beating their children.

6:58 three back in line, i sneeze again. so hard that i cant see straight. im lucky i have tissue to catch it. which is layered in green, brown, and now chimpanzee's hemroid red. at first it scared me. then i realize it was a hunk of cough drop that came out in it. some brats stare at me. i like the cough drop back off the tissue and keep waiting. the brats shriek. the mother of brats decides i can got first.

7:06 late to work. no one says shit. i tell my boss im late. he shruggs. i tell him im sick. he shruggs. i tell him i forgot what a water heater does. he shruggs. i vomit most of a lamb spleen on his desk. he shruggs.

7:38 after not seeing a single customer with 5 teeth, clean shoes, or 3 brain cells to waste my time on, i disappear to find something to drink. at the water fountain i stop to release something green and red. im pleased at the consistency.

8:14 ive been standing around putting away the same 6 pieces of copper pipe for about a half hour before anyone notices. and then its my boss... "when you get done putting that pipe out, could you help this guy in faucets"

8:16 1 brain cell, 1.5 teeth, 2 muddy shoes. he wants a facuet in a bag. its 8 dollars. he reminds its for a mobile home. i interject that its a trailer. and this faucet is junk. he thinks it looks nice. he has no real questions. he wants a friend. i cough several times. a deep healthy coal miner's cough. he mentions i should probably go see "dat dem dere doctors" hes obviously the brightest mind ive encountered so far.

8:25 some asshat wants a sump pump pit. he doesnt trust computers. he makes me walk to the other end of the store, out into the yard, and out in the back corner to find them and see that one is clean and nice. i hack something up in a tissue, smile and walk outside.

8:27 while walking around the yard, i stop to gawk at the receiving chick. normally this is a job done by men. shes built. but she shaves her legs. im at a loss for words. she stops and looks at me in some kind of "whaddus maddah wit you" looks. i spit out a massive green gob. she nods then goes back to lifting 50 pound cinder blocks.

8:36 i find the damn sump pits. clean one off, so i can lie and say it was clean, then head back in. as i walk away, i swear i hear someone blaring old school anthrax. something off Fist Full of Metal. i realize for the first time my head doesnt hurt today. then some fag comes flying past me in a forklift, and just chucks a pallet of galvenized pipe. that makes the head hurt.

9:10 i decide im taking a break. im not scheduled till much later. but all these coughdrops made me hungry. and the garbage in the vending machine would probably taste like snot anyhow. as im sitting there eating egg salad on rye, which tastes like thickened snot; i watch Lacey cashier. shes possibly the hottest girl in the store. shes the kind that tans all the time. dark hair. atleast C's. and she knows it. she already told me that i was creepy. that might be. but i cant even taste how awful this egg salad is. life could be worse.

9:28 i punch back in late again, to find my boss shrugging to some customer. he hands me the phone. now im responsible for shit. i eat more coughdrops.

9:29 phone rings. some cashier cant figure out if this pipe is copper or iron. i remind her that iron pipe is painted black. copper, looks like a penny.

9:20 phone rings. some one in wall coverings says a "guest" wants help in selecting a plunger. im baffled why hed look in the wall paper aisles for that. the employee doesnt think its such a stetch.

9:22 old man with oxygen tank wants help picking out a toilet plunger. we have 3 kinds. one is all plastic. one has a wood handle and rubber cup. and the third is the same as the second, just half the size. he mentions to me that turds dont flush, and he feels that its a conspiracy from those democrats to save the environment to save water and drown us in turds. i laugh. i want to ask if he just poops too much. but i realize my nose is running down my face.

9:25 i give the phone back to my boss. he shruggs. then i wipe my nose. he reccomends that i should see a doctor. i remind him they dont offer me medical insurance, and they dont pay me enough to afford a doctors office visit at full price. he shruggs. i remind him its probably just AIDS anyhow. he shruggs.

9:58 i manage to walk around a while unnoticed, until someone wants me to shop for them, from a list of 60 parts. he clearly has no idea what hes doing. i ask. he says its all standard parts; "you know its a standard house". that makes all the difference. for shits i ask him, "is it a two car garage or three?" he says 2. so i get him fitting in 1.5 inch sizes. its all a guess anyhow.

10:25 with our list complete he leaves, and some massive woman comes up to me. who smells like open ass. she asks me if the handicap booster seats for toilets support more than 350 pounds. im amazed at the question. in the worst way i want to tell her to take a dump in the bathtub instead, it would be safer. but i sneeze instead.

10:31 i go back to the desk. my boss looks at me. i remind him im sick. he shruggs. i stand there for a while.

10:36 i decide im going to build a grill. so i start opening a box. preferably the most complex looking one i can find. this way i can sit down and look busy.

10:50 my grill is coming along nicely, when some mexican wants help finding a natural gas line. "mas... mas lonquer?" thats the only english he gives me. "mas lonquer" i remind him that 60 inch is the longest we have. "mas lonquer" no. "mas... mas...." no, no mas. "lonquer?" no, god dammit.... Es mas corto, NO ES MAS LARGO. he gets that. but i dont get how i remembered any spanish.

10:56 mexican with gas line comes back, smiling. he has duck tape, and two packages of gas line. i stop him and try my best to explain how thats not a great idea. he seems to have it planned out. i shake my head. hes not detered. i make the international symbol for explosion and say BOOM!. he gets it. and puts them back.

11:12 my gril is done. it looks odd. i realized its electric. its stainless steel and kind of resembles R2D2 with an I-beam in his ass. its 150 dollars.

11:15 i declare im bored. boss shruggs. i sneeze, get light headed. and boss looks at me.

11:20 boss finally tells me to put away some freight. its cleaning supplies. its in the aisle.

11:22 as i start to put away the stuff, i realize its liquid bleach. why does a hardware store carry liquid bleach. some customer nags at me. i turn around and bring a jug down to my side.

11:23 customer keeps complaining about how they think 5mil trash bags are too thick, but 3mil are too thin, and why we dont carry a 4mil. i smell bleach.

11:24 customer leaves, i realize the bottle leaks. i realize the leak was stopped. i realize the stoppage was my pants. a nice white-blue streak running down my leg.

11:30 after using the bathroom sink to try and dilute the bleach, i realize i now have discolorations in these pants. if im lucky i wont have holes. i wonder why the shit couldnt leak on the floor or something less important. but the smell of bleach is making me dizzy. i sit down on a toilet and shut the stall door.

11:45 i cough up a couple things, then decide to go back out. on the way i pass the checkout lines. the old man with the oxygen tank is returning the plunger. its wrapped in a bag. he looks proud of himself. i hope that...

11:46 i get to the desk in time to catch the ringing phone. the cashier want me to take back a plunger. "it looks wet"

11:48 i eat more cough drops in anticpation.

11:49 mystified casher comes briskly walking back carrying a plunger in a bag. she sets it on the ground and leaves. sure enough its wet. i realize that pulling a fast on the elderly may be harder than we think. take that environmentalist wackos.

12:01 some one runs a cart into a pallet of sprinkler parts. i look at it for a while.

12:15 i decide i need to get something to drink, so i head to the back. i realize that i havent coughed anything up lately. when i get to the receiving door, i can smell the trash in the dumpster. i promptly spit something brown out.

12:17 chick from receiving walks over and looks at me. she asks if im new. i say "sorta" she asks how i think the nfl draft will turn out. i laugh. i tell her i think football is kind of gay. she ask what sports i like. i mention baseball, this time of year. after that she doesnt say anything. so i leave. sneezing once.... a nice misty cloud. no solid chunks!

12:20 i get back to the desk, my boss says i should take the rest of the day off. i agree. he shruggs. i punch out. blow my nose. and leave.

12:24 i get to the parking lot to see two things wrong with the jeep. first. my rear tire is almost completely flat. second the side window looks like a doberman flew over and shit on it. i dont say anything. just spit out something brown.

12:28 after cracking the spare out, and getting it jacked up. i remember something. dad didnt listen to me, and used the air wrench to put the lugs back on.

12:40 several nasty words, brown splotches galore, and red and sore hands later, i have the wheel off and changed. i get back in the jeep and look at the dried snot on the window. its disgusting. i roll it down to spit, and manage to make it right on my arm instead.

1:15 i pull into the drive way at home. go to find something to drink, realize someone has once again, drank all the cold soda. i get warm soda. its not like im sick. i look for food, find that the only food we have is crap my parents eat. i hate minnestrone soup. lean pockets are ass. and velveta cheese isnt very good. we have plain turkey for lunch meat. and only plain chips. gone are the days where i had GOOD lunch meat, and FLAVORED fucking doritos to eat.

1:17 i sit down at my computer, sniff, and remember the trash can of crap from the night before has been sitting there ranking around my room. whatever.

1:18 i lay down and try to sleep for an hour, before my "sick" brother comes home, coughing and hacking.

so far.... thats been it..

incase anyone wonders about me... ive been around. *yawn* yep. i finally got a job somewhere. menards in moline hired me to work in plumbing. what possessed them to do that, i still dont know. i think i had a functional understanding of how to fix basic home plumbing, but the questions and crap people come up with is far from what ive ever done. ive done a couple toilets, several sinks, drains galore, and know my way around threads and soldering pretty well... but on that first day.... i wasnt prepared for it. at menards, plumbing is grouped with "housewares" which means all the random crap they buy. soap, garbage cans, mailboxes, gloves, candy, grills, water coolers. all of that stuff; PLUS plumbing pipes, fixtures, parts, etc. and dont forget sinks, cabinets, faucets, shower heads, mirrors, and the like. and the things you wouldnt think of as plumbing; like furnaces, heat pipe, exhaust vents, duct work, and some roofing supplies. and dont forget bathtubs, toilets, whirpools, sauna's and everything else that gets special ordered. i would guess we have approximately 25% of the footage of the sales floor. its simply a huge amount of crap. i also was shocked to learn that there usually is only 2 people covering it all. sometimes 1. not good. so that sets it up a bit for my first day....

some old farmer comes in. pushing a cart with something black in it. when he walks up to me, i notice two things.... 1) its dripping something funky 2) it smells something awfully funky. turns out it was something out of his septic system. and yes, it was leaking liquid poop. appearantly, i was not only supposed to know what he needed, but i was supposed to take it apart FOR him to do it. yikes. id been there all of 2 hours at that point. what a way to start.

i havent really made up my mind about it all. i will say that i miss staples. all else aside, menards has a terrible sense of stock/supply. staples inventory practices, and stock guarantees--- even if sometimes annoying to deal with as an employee --- were always noticed by customers. this place could have open pegs for months and not know it. they dont do yearly inventory. stuff is randomly shipped in, sometimes correlating to sales of items and orderpoints, but not always. planograms are awful. overstock is chaotic at best. and there just isnt much in the way of fall back options when youre out and people get pissed. staples would eat 20 bucks in shipping costs to get you a 3 dollar widget if you really wanted it. menards couldnt tell you if they had one... ever. but its a hardware store. crap comes in everyday by the truck loads, and my guess is the employees are generally immune to the idea of keeping up on it. it seems like there is always freight laying around. in piles. on pallets. in the aisles. on top of other products. in cases in the wrong places. just made me want to vomit coming from a system like staples. secondly, the cleanliness is a bit off. dust just cakes up in this place. shop-worn [ragged, yellow packaging] product is all over the place. things are dumped on end caps for no reason. products get 43 facings for 8 items; 2 facings for 8594 items. it just feels throw together at times. even during back to school times and christmas; staples .... errr ted... would see to it that the store could do a total tear down and reset before wed open for business the next day. around here, they have stock people working before 5am, and some not leaving till 10pm and it looks like hell. ofcourse, i found out the plumbing department also does more on average, in a day, than my staples store would do in a day. i guess its just a different environment altogether.

its also a place filled with "lifers" as we call it. my department manager, has 13 years in. the two assistant managers have 10 and 14. the full timer has 13. its just amazing. several other things make it amazing. the opening pay rate isnt bad for retail, but raises are pathetic... 10 cents. and to qualify you have to take paper exams. and thats a once a year thing. they do something called instant profit sharing; but require you to work 1,000 hours in a calendar year first. then you can earn 2.5% back of what you already made. in realworld math; it works out to about one extra pay check. before its hit with tax. which... the company considers a gift and hits it a 42%. *shakes head* im not sure how worth it that can be. the other thing which i didnt like... paying for purchases.... to get the 10% discount, you have to pay with your namebadge. the namebadge links to your payroll. post taxes. and you still will pay sales tax on top of that. its also capped at 70% of the previous week's earnings. so. you cant buy a skid of shingles to do your roof. no big purchases get discounts. but it encourages lots of little incidental purchases. soda, candy, small tools... hmm.. just like the ones they made me buy. not only did i have to pay for my gay vest [11 dollars], but i have to pay for any all all shirts id want , as well as "the tools to perform my job"... meaning, the old company store is back in business for the miners! i had to "buy" my box cutter, holster, pliers, holster, tape measure, and shop rag. before i knew it, my first days pay was wiped out on this stuff. all of which, i already owned. but the kicker is, i dont even like the box cutter, or the tape measure; and the shop towel is reduculous. sigh.

but. as sarah would remind me. its a job. it might suck. but its a job. so i drive 30 minutes or so to get there. because the one 3 blocks away wouldnt hire me. sigh. its a fantastic place alright. i just hope the "real job" comes along for me sooner than later.

well as a random note... ive joined myspace as well. should anyone else care to find me on it, ta-da-is-the-link. i did it because no one from davenport is on facebook. its true! ive been a member of myspace for about 20 minutes, and im up to 5 friends-- all of them from home. when i look at my list of friends on facebook, about 99% of them are from school only. its pretty rare that i find any of my friends from home on it. myspace also has a neat feature of bands being on it. bands which place their songs [albeit] in embedded players, so that your friends music can be played on your page. yes, its annoying as all hell to go to someones page and hear their music, but its kind of neat to have some old school black metal playing on mine; legit and free. myspace also lets you do more to the page. facebook really doesnt allow for it. so thats kind of neat. i guess.

so i used it and ive caught up with 2 girls i graduated with, that i litterally havent seen or even heard their names, since then. very neat. one ended up in South Carolina, and the other is in Flordia. maybe im just living vicariously, but i enjoy seeing where people end up that isnt davenport. dont get me wrong. this was a great place to grow up. its a fantastic place to raise children still. but being a 20 something, with no real committments, there is no real life around here. and looking at my friends that have moved off, they tend to have found that life in other [non davenporty] places. i also somewhat struggled with how to approach them. a little bit. i mean how great of a friend am i, if i cant talk to someone once in 7 years... sigh. i get that. i expect ill get more of that. but its hard to come up with what to say. obviously im not any of these people's best friend, but maybe im not the worst enemy either. see on facebook, it seemed to me, that approve and go, with myspace i almost feel compelled to talk to these people. the facebook crew hardly even sends me a poke back anymore. who knows. people are just who they want to be.

being all nostalgic and such the past few hours, i dug around some blogs. eventually i arrived at a blog from someone, who, im surprised didnt erase theirs. but 3 years later, its still sitting there. to me; its tough. this was a person who was a good friend to me. good enough i suppose. who did some really stupid shit, and got called on it. and should have. im not denying that. but reading through the posts, it was somewhat harsh how everyone treated them. all the responses are anonymous, and combative. and, yes, they pulled some stupid shit, they looked like a dumbass doing it, and deserved some crap for what they did. but honestly i dont know if they deserved all of what people were throwing at them. maybe from select people. that much would be understandable. but reading it now, it just looks like they made it open season on them. so i feel a bit guilty. should i? i dunno. i didnt hop on the stone throwing train. honestly, i ended up being the best friend they had at that point. but maybe i wasnt a true friend. maybe im still not. i suppose, a complication like that, makes sense why i struggle with pulling up some of these old names on myspace. maybe on some level, i feel guilty over something i said back then. hell, the problem is i dont even remember what i would have said. so i dunno.

i pulled out a yearbook from junior year tonight. that scared me. i cant believe what a retard i looked like. well. still am. but how hard it is to imagine people i knew then, looking like someone who is the age we are now. i know damn well ive passed people in the mall, or on the street that i graduated with, that i just dont recognize anymore. its sad. its not like the high school was that big. 1300 people isnt huge. hell, several colleges in iowa are that size. but i guess its the idea of people changing and moving on. and i thought about the line from Cool Hand Luke... where Luke goes out to the truck to see Arletta. She says something about how that at some point a bitch wouldnt recognize her own pup anymore, and how it pains her that she still knows Luke to be her son... how much easier on us all if we could be as blind and forgetful as that, to let those people slide off in to true anononymity. i suppose to an extent i experienced that. for better or for worse.

you ever hear something on a cd that bugs you so much, that every time you listen to it , it irks you? im not talking like a note out of pitch, or stupid lyrics....

see whats bugging me is the track ordering on some albums. anal? positively. but frustrating? absolutely.

damageplan. the cd is severely weakened by using Wake Up as the first track. New Found Power should be number one.

everytime i listen to it now, it bugs me. i just think NFP sets the tone much better for whats coming... and to think that some studio executive probably said, aww just put them in any order. that bugs me.

so just when i needed a laugh today, this specimen graces my desktop...

the headline you ask?


Report: Cosmetics firm using remains of executed Chinese



yikes. but the only thing with more pull than a headline like that, is the actual quotes given in the article. gems like;

“A lot of the research is still carried out in the traditional manner using skin from the executed prisoners and aborted fetus," the agent was quoted as saying.

proving that not only are the dead not safe, but neither are the unborn unliving either. it just gets me. its morbid. but i laughed for about 10 minutes. its supposed to be the type of article you find on the Onion.com, or something of that ilk. buuuuut it looks somewhat reputable. it just gets me.

i suppose on a somewhat serious note though, its got to be embarrasing for a company in china to get caught doing something like that. here, the largest exporter of cheap shit in the known universe, is seen to be some smiling, curry tainted, tasty food producing place in the middle of nowhere, that really likes american money, and if they werent communists, wed probably like them. then we find out they go picking out corpses to try mascara on. or lipstick. or concealer to cover the bullet holes in the corpse heads. there just isnt any end to it. and you can make some kind of argument that...... errrrr. these are just convicts.... errrrr... they are dead.... errr..... vying market principles sometimes dictate unforseen solutions to evolving business practices... but really it just doesnt make much sense. call me a sterotype-r but, i thougth the asian cultures revered older people... i thought that they worship and made praise to the spirts of their dead relatives. i thought it was a culture that was abit more in tune with the human spirit... with the flow of existence.... hell some of them think reincarnation happens. so then how do we end up with some suit's parading around a mortuary with powderpuff's and lip gloss, in the earnest pursuit of a cheaper earned dollar? i dont get it. i just dont get it.

so. with this touted child porn ring busted today i kind of wonder why every is so ashamed to talk about it. hell. what we had here was a real american dream. a slice of america as straight as apple pie, and twice as addictive... it was about money. in a culture thats now grown so bloated in its search of on demand, my way, lifestyles; is it really that alarming that porn follows us? my point is some one out there came up with the great idea of selling on demand porn via web cams with kids, and were out raged. i think what we have here is a giant step forward in our evolution. see in the days of early man, [circa 1991], porn with kids could only get found one of two ways... either you go out kick over some lunch boxes and raid a sand box, or you let someone else do it and hope they send pictures. for now, unknown users, struggling with their affliction of needing to see children being raped on camera, have found a way to stroke that relaxing rush of endorphins with delight, any time, anywhere, by credit card. why not? people do banking, order pizzas, clothes, print insurance quotes; why not get your fix of exploring your own Dora when you want it via the world wide web. i bet this flexes the american money muscle more than anything else to the rest of the world. using our ingenuity and know-how to solve problems.

but who came up with this? really. who was the guy that said... "hey. i bet i know how to make money! screw work, screw inheritence, im going to go out and make my fat millions the right way, im going to shill porno... but ive got a way around that pesky problem of picking up 8 year olds to pound... ill keep a stock on hand, then let people pay me to watch me go at it. yeah. here comes my millions, just rollin in. ill get that place up in the hamptons ive always dreamed about, ill have that mercedes ive wanted.. hell maybe the hot girl in accounting will go out with me when im totally loaded, and a mega porn millionare." the funny bone tickler here for me, is the decision to take credit cards. according to the story aired on ABC Nightly News, people assaulted kids on demand, via web cams, then charged views by credit cards. thats the way in which people were caught. Adam Smith, and his wealth of nations is hard at work pounding little Barny-ites, but forgot all about the trail of shit leading right back to him. call it the evolution of the economy. call it a short sell. but this time, its leaving a mess bigger than what fits in the diapers of the kids they are after.

im glib about it. im not denying that. but porn is what it is. is it wrong, is it sad, is it fucked up that they pull little kids in? absolutely. but porn is big business. porno is more money than you and i will ever know, and its inevitable that something like this comes along. porn is a multi billion dollar industry. ofcourse someone is out there, looking for a way to get theirs; and im not surprised someone is finding a way to sell it. this is the age of every device having a remote control. this is the age where you have to do everything on the internet. this is the age where if cant be cooked in oil, you cant sell it in a drive through window, and that aint going to work. so, im not surprised that this has passed on. but porn reflects life more truely that any of us really want to admit i think. maybe thats the problem we have with it.

i was thinking about this an awful lot this afternoon; just the idea of fetishism. how do we connect a fetish with actual instances of eroticism. as bad as it sounds; i guess kids are easy to figure out... its either a sense of controlling them, or its a return trip to innocence or child like states. i get that. but what about scat porn? how in the world does someone come around with the idea of enjoying a fresh dump in their mouth? i dont get that. plushies. people that dress up in full plush animal costumes to have sex. like a bad disney film on the Spice channel. i dont get that either. latex nuns. it makes no sense to me. but fundamentally its the same. a fetish needs some sort of desired object to propegate sexual fullfillment. and alarming number of people dig feet. some litterally dig coprses. but i just dont get it. after throwing some fetish terms around in google; i was coming up with more fetishes than ways that i knew to describe my distaste for google to find them. people seem to have all sorts of odd quirks that make them tick. i dont claim to understand any of it. and i dont claim to want to experience any of it. but the fact of the matter is porn is legit. porn pushes billions of dollars in the economy. porn is the past time of millions of people on the internet. porn detaches us from the world and sex that we have, to the world and sex that we seem to enjoy. the day we started churning out copies of Deep Throat, was the day porn made it. all of the sudden its a commodity like apples or Pampers or motor oil. we can apply market forces and watch it be manipulated in the proper market channels. that wall came tumbling down long ago. the day we harvested the power of the internet for porn, we knew it was going to explode. when pornography became free, open, and lacking an ID like a strip club; all bets were off. like it or not, kiddie porn sales are legit. its happening. just like crack, its illegal. but its being exchanged. and just like crackdealers are the bouncing baby of success for impreshionable youths in inner cities, child porn purveyors are too the epitomy of success.

how willing are we as a culture to let more fetish elements become truely legit? free will and all that aside, thats not healthy. trust me, i get that. im all for less censorship, fewer goverment intrusions. but the anything goes approach is much different than the every thing goes approach; even if it is a subtle difference. the idea that isolated things can make it as one-offs; vs. a rule of one-off's as the norm. but somewhere before we arrive to that point, we have to make this determination about whats ok. whats taboo that stays taboo. what has been wrong, and what is always going to be wrong. why is the fucking line drawn about having sex with someone at 18 years old, when biologically there isnt always a difference between them and a 17 year old? has it always been medically unsafe to rape a child- absolutely. hasnt it always been emotionally damaging- positively. but its not been eliminated. why does it become filthy and wrong to do the things to a child that adults pray that people would do to them? how come the world anal sex, seems to have lost all sense of shame, and oral isnt even considered sex anymore [thank you bill clinton]? the lines this culture draws are at best a zig zag. again, the message is "i need total control over my phone bill, roll over minutes, online billing, call blocking" but that attitude seems to have cost 26 people their freedom today. and we loathe them for it. im not sad. dont get my take wrong. im not holding up a sign asking for their release. im not saying kiddie porn should be available. im saying, the line isnt straight anymore. the man that invented flash-fry hamburgers in red wax paper is the same model that someone watched to develop a way for people to view sick obsessive taboos. why not. i dont think these concepts have changed a hell of a lot. sex sells, and people are catering to that sale. thats why there are burger joints, taco huts, and fried chicken spots. before you know it, people will be taking credit cards for dolphin sex films, and Hamburger Helper Fetish newsletters, or Gull Bladder penetration movies for sale. porn evolves as fast as the human affinity for a new attachment evolves. our culture does the same thing. this is the kind of thing that happens when that intersects. maybe even inter-sex.

so. i remember, like i could ever hope to forget, my experiences of being thrown out, cursed at, and backhanded by every business in a 3 county area, trying to sell copiers door to door. and what was the 3 things i took away to get some success with it? never bring samples, if you take more than 3 minutes its youre third strike, and ALWAYS be a master at what youre doing. today, people rang our door bell. so our story begins.

a man, in a nice jacket asks me if i could give an honest opinion on an item. hes holding a bottle of windex. i say sure. before i could look up, hes on the porch with a vacuum cleaner box, and two idiots in tow. he opens the door starts talking and walks up the stairs, and says "I want a real honest opinion from you about the Kirby Cleaning system, Jesse and Karen will give you some quick information here for me, the bottle of windex is a free gift for your opnions." and like that he was gone. left me holding the bottle of windex. which wasnt so bad. it was name brand windex. but then i realized the vacuum in the living room. and the two idiots shredding the box apart like 3 years olds on christmas day. i had bigger problems than that coming.

i forgot that my father was home. sitting in the chair, staring at a cross word puzzle. it snapped shut and i got a glare. so i sat on the couch while jesse and karen went to work. ill have to admit, they didnt know assholes from doorknobs on this thing. that much was clear instantly.

hoses, and brushes and attachments were flying around. i was getting motion sick. but that didnt stop some angry glares and stupid comments from my father. you see, as i sat down, this could be fun. obviously, these people are trying real hard to make this work. ive been there. when someone says "hey sure, what can you tell me?", it was probably the best news of the day for me. at that point, it would make the previous 30 doors that got slammed, seem like nothing, because now i had a chance. so i gave them a chance. big deal. they were going to clean the house for me for nothing... more than nothing. they GAVE me the bottle of windex after all. suckers.

immediately karen has problems. i pay attention to see that shes putting the wrong end of the hose into the machine. turns it on, without introducing herself or the product, and finds the hose wont stay on. the machine has exhaust and intake that use the same hose. shes flustered. and a side note. shes fat. and shes wearing black spandex pants. its important later. i digress. shes flustered. she figures out the wrong hose is in place, then mumbles about machines not working. then she talks to us for the first time.

"so this is... the kirby cleaner. its a vacuum.--- but it does more than vacuum" FUCKING GASP!!!! DOES IT???? sorry.

she then takes her time picking out an attachment to talk about.... the pet groomer, the plumbers best friend, the power jet, the horsehair brush, the crevice tool, the tile scrubber... then she has jesse plug it in, as she forgot to, to start showing them all off. so they take a piece of white coffee filter, slap it in the machine and vacuum a small spot, and show us all the dust and dirt from every place they take it from. 14 samples later, they decide they want to move on to the kitchen. my father speaks up and tells them, No. i said, go for it. he says NO again. so she tries to sit and make small talk. she asks where were from. {FUCKING DERRRR HOWABOUT DAVENPORT}, asked me where i went to school, i said Idaho. she magically says "i have friends from there". then she sits on the floor. a crucial down fall. shes talking intermittently while reading from the product binder, assumedly verbatim from whats printed. all the while playing with parts, telling us what does what. or so she thinks. jesse decides hes done, and he wants to start the "baking soda test." you can figure this one out, ass hat threw a box of the crap all over the carpet, and she starts stomping and grinding it in.

she gets up, puts on some floor attachment, and decides to suck it up. but shes forgotten which connection pushes it into the catch trap to show us the dirt. woooooosh. there goes powdered baking soda in a cloud on to my parents royal blue couch. dad is not happy. im trying not to laugh. but it gets harder. she appologizes. jesse looks confused. so she sits down. on the couch. wide rear end over powdery white substance. i get up to get something to drink and start laughing. my dad seem to be more pissed off now than amused. when i come back i see jesse, whom by the way has a tub of skoal hanging out of his back pocket, stand up with the fixed vacuum and start to clean the mess. i sit down, and so stands up karen. with a nice big white powdered ass. but oh. wait. theres more! when she moves i notice a problem. there are two nice stripes down her but... sigh. panty lines. like chalked body outlines. and even i cant find this remotely sexual. but i find it unabashedly hillarious. two wide black stripes in the midst of a square acre of white. kind of like the opposite of a hostes cupcake.

im dying laughing. but i cant say anything, except i want to see the next attachment. she says they need mattress samples. my dad gets very irate and says, "youre a guest in my house, but i will not let you into my bedroom to test it, you can go to the next step in youre little demo." she says its important so that they can qualify it as a demo. he goes on with some i thought was a tad more profane than should be said. and like they they are on the phone calling for a pickup. feverishly they are trying to repack the box of 4004 attachments, all while she bends over and puts that 8 miles of powdered white ass in my face. absolutely priceless. obviously theyve been tossed out before, and take it well. but i was pretty mad about it.

first of all it was entertaining as all hell. second, im about as insulated from buying the thing as anyone could be [the price was 1100 dollars, i have about zero to my name], and third i felt bad in a way. i remember getting cussed at, thrown out and jacked around. obviously they hadnt gotten many opportunities to practice the sale or theyd be better, and i was all for letting them practice. so before we knew it, with a cloud of dust they were outside, waiting on the curb for a guy in a red childmolester van with florida plates, to pick them up. and so ended my tale of hillarity for the day. so funny. yet so pathetic.

i watch the Some Kind of Monster documentary about Metallica tonight.

eh.

just eh.

as a documentary, its perfect. i didnt realize they took in nearly 2 years of material to get it. absolutely a testament in editing and patience on the part of the production crew to watch this thing develop. but i cage my "eh's" around the band.

when i say "eh" its not in a lackluster sense. its in the, slump head forward, and running out of breath from frustration, you let out the "eh." i never realized how hard that band worked to generate a bad record. i never realized how money wasnt an issue for people like that. the problem they have with a therapist, which they dont talk about till the end of the 2 years, isnt that the money they pay him [40k per month], or that hes moving into their neck of the woods [riding that cash cow], but that they think they dont need him. a smarting blow, offered in a stately fashion of people that obviously decide who they put around them based on no real reasoning of the moment. just because.

its hard to watch these people and even for a moment think they relate to what made them famous. kirk maybe is the split. the separatist. i can get that. he made his cash, and he wants to be left alone. he wants to write music because thats what he likes to do. lars flops around on leather couches drinking 300 dollar bottles of champagne while he makes millions selling art. and james just runs off for a year. even when hes there, hes more interested in pictures of hunting bears, or attempting to dictate a disasterous schedule on the band. then to watch the egos flare up. its really a strong push to get that 'eh' out there at the end. when the producers force this rising-tide sort of ending to it all... like, watch out world, metallica got a new bass player and wow are they going to rule the world again!

they ruled the world because they were drunk, because they were drug addicts, and because they played louder and faster and heavier than the people around them in that era. theres nothing wrong with that. but there just wasnt something right, about watching james with his kid at ballet, or the chorus of shit they all sing out at the mention of jason newstead.

playboy did a roving interview with the separate members in 2001 right before they split, and you could feel it happen there. what i couldnt see was why. i saw it on the tape. i also saw kirk and lars show up at jasons project to wish him support in their self righteous ways, and i saw how fast jason left. but i wasnt prepared for the verbal back hands Q Prime Management made, or that the 3 members shouted back about involving jason again. i saw every one of them lash out at each other, but never reconcile the same emotions they have, are what forced jason out. 15 years of history. up in a flash. so then they roll up in a fancy suits, get drunk, and think that would make it up. "eh"

i dont blame him. id want out of the circus of egos as well.

well im awaiting the world baseball classic. im also probably the only person out side of the media who is. for me. its time to see some baseball on tv again. so, i warmed up some popcorn, hopped on the couch and swiped the remote. sigh. to see Taiwan and Korea. yeah. i can actually place about 4 major leaguers from korea, but i was shocked Taiwan had a team. and even more dismayed to find out that they werent even airing it on normal tv. only on Espn Deportes. who the freak carries the spanish version of espn? it replays, in a 2 hour block, at 1am on espn tonight, but i dont think i want to see baseball that bad.


but i have enough of a hankering for the game that i spent 2 hours at Temple [Sporting Goods in Moline... the holy temple of baseball equipment in the area], just trying on gloves, weighing bats, and just meandering through the goodness. i miss the smell of leathers. in gloves. in baseball hides. in batting gloves. i miss the snap sound the gloves make with a ball in it. i miss the feel of new spikes and the two blisters id always get on my heels from them. the sound of all of us standing in two lines throwing for warm ups, talking about trying to get laid, about how our favorite major leaguer's hit the day before, or the dirty jokes that always were a hit. i miss squating out on the back edge of the grass to get a read on the infield, to feel the dirt for moisture and consistency, to watch how much the infield grass would slow grounders. i also miss seeing friends play on other teams, and the nights after games or days off where everyone from the team would get together and inevitably start playing catch, or challege some kids to slugger on an empty diamond. walking around the cramped store brought back alot of the memories. reminded me to be excited for the season to start again. for the first time in years, i can spend time at the minor league games, or at the high school and Legion fields, just watching it all again.

even if it is just Korean and Taiwan, its the start of the season.

as you can see.... this looks alot cleaner and brighter. well see. ill keep it. updating was necessary since it allows me to start adding in more functionality, i can add RSS feeds and more ingrained content now, if id like. plus it was looking old and tired. and most of the links i had were out of date. so i just decided to scrap it.

well im in a clear minority. ive been watching some of the winter olympics at night. its somewhat interesting. there are 40 different skating events, 203293 different skiing events, and only 1 team curling event to watch. so what. i watched curling? does that make me a bad american? on the contrary. i actually found the game to be far more interesting than i originally thought it would have been. yes. heaving rocks on ice is still the point. and yes. you can play a similar game on a sand top table in some backwater bars without getting cold. but, the game/sport/boredom-killer seems to have some elements of strategy in it. im also impressed at the accuracy to which a "rink" [team] can glide the "rocks" [stones] down the "sheet" [ice]. the whole game seemed to have a air of darts vs. shuffleboard vs. billiards vs. housekeeping alll rolled together. ah the glory of modern tv to watch antiquated celtic games thousands of miles away. but really, arent all of the olympic games antiquated? who really finds pairs ice dancing to be relative to modern adaptation of the species... of what use is the mogul ski event... or how about the skeleton... or a crew based 4 man bobsled... hell. i think very few of the winter olympic events ever really had a purpose. in the summer games; wrestling, running, shooting, wieghtlifting, all had some applications... curling.. eh. not so much. but ill be damned if i didnt actually start to like the game/oddity/thing by the end of the hour.

current musical selection: motley crue - if i die tomorrow

im all over the place mentally. i dont think that surprises anyone. its just so much garbage happening in such a repetition over a short duration. i think im getting this haze to finally start to clear, but its not like its lifting to complete clarity. im openly frustrated. about damn near everything, now that i think about it. its just alot of lamentations about shit that isnt going to do any good. its not finding me a job. its not getting me moved out. its not getting me married. its not making me happy. its not really doing anything for my life to sit and be upset about it. but after a second week of pure rejections, its getting hard to find any kind of light to reach for. about the only answer i get is "this is an automated response". not good. everyone says it takes time. i agree. but in the long run that doesnt matter, in the short run, im vying for more than just a job. i need some money coming in. i need to get a life. i really need to start having something to be happy about. i used to be happy about things, or people, or just activities. everything started to slowly sink away in july and it feels like all of it has just bottomed out for the most part. i dont know what it is. i dont even know that its as easy as it being one thing.

i guess if i say im frustrated, it can cover alot of ground. im frustrated that i cant even think of a place where id want to work, or a job i wouldnt immediately hate. im frustrated that i cant seem to find anyone to even hire me at places i know i hate working for. im frustrated that im 25 and im living at home still. im frustrated that i cant manage to find a girl to spend valentines day time on. its frustrating to feel like i dont matter. to me, when i wake up in the morning, it feels like i dont have any real purpose. i have always defined existence by purpose. and for me, im not coming up with much purpose right now. i hope that changes.

i hope that alot of things do change soon. i hope i can start to figure out my life again. maybe i never knew it, and had just been coasting along all these years, but i guess i want it figured out now--- and in such a way i dont feel like this again. feeling worthless feels terrible. feeling like nothing matters is just going to leave me on some self destructive path at somet point. i want a job to feel like i have something to do each day. i want money to feel valuable or have valuable things. i want a woman, because i want someone else to tell me im worth something at the end of the day. i cant really get behind those things at this point. i cant find an easy fix to say, "hey, that was progress." i cant find much in the way of support for anything. on sitcoms, the guy would always lie awake at the end of the terrible day, and have a wife that kissed him and told him everything would be ok. no one tells me its going to be all right. no wonder its hard to fall asleep at night now. worse than ever.

i guess i want to come to some middle grounds. that would be a start for me. just having a job. just a place that sends me a paycheck for doing something every day. something at the end of the week could pay my bills, and buy me a beer. or a lapdance. that would be a starting point. being able to sit down with the girl of my dreams and have a two-way open dialogue and just get past the "friend role" or the "is this ok to do" thoughts... just express it how we feel, and go with that. boyfriends, mileage, dreams... just push that aside for a day. that would be a start. it would feel so good to have some sort of worth, even if they are just starting points. its just trying to find something i can do to start it, and stop feeling this way. but its a desire to get what i want ultimately. i dont want my life to be like this. i dont want the only signifficant things to ever come of me, to be posted here. i want something better than that. i want what honestly feels like it should be mine. so many things feel like happenstance and get pushed aside in our lives. alot of it is. but sometimes, things and people stick. even less often do we get the feelings we do about them. there is something more to it. i know ive got to get something out of all this shit that happens to me. being jobless has to kick back into some kind of job sometime. spilling my feelings about a girl has to amount to something with her sometime. because if it didnt, i wouldnt do this. i wouldnt do any of this. id give up. i die. id just want to stop living a life where i couldnt get anything back out of what i put in. but thtat kind of thinking still isnt kiling th pervasive thought of worthlessness right now. for right now, ive got empty pockets, ive got no where to go, ive got a head full of ideas, and heart full of feelings that i want to do something with. but it all just sits here for now with me, unused.

tonight a random girl from utah started talking to me online. it turns out she just liked my taste in music. after a while of talking, she started asking for help in writing a poem she was going to write to her boyfriend. id have to say i was flattered. ofcourse it was random. of course it was blind luck. but. it makes me feel good to write sometimes. and to be able to write about someone you love, or care about, really makes it seem all that more important and special when you finish it. it was ironic that i thought about wanting to do something like that myself. but i remembered i have no one to write to anymore. maybe its not that i ever did, but i dont now. sure. deep down im still crazy about her. maybe for a second i was naieve enough to consider doing it. but the hard line is its not for me to do. its fiction to find myself think about it any other way. and around valentines day, it really makes me feel pathetic. its a holiday about love. about giving love, and maybe receiving some. and i know i wont be getting any; and its all make-believe if i feel like i have a place to give it. its a gnawing feeling that chews on the edge of the frayed ends of my sanity of late. but i guess its all in order. im a gun for hire, but no one is buying. im a person that wants some kind of love or relationship, and found out no one really wants that with me. sometimes i guess, it makes me question alot of things. but helping some random girl was a nice feeling. maybe im not shakesphere or catullus. maybe im just someone who romanticizes ideas and wants very much, to have someone to share that with. so atleast i could come in and help someone that needed that creative push in their own life. maybe the muses can move me. but maybe it doesnt matter so much now that they can.

i thought about the whole predicament today, before the girl and her poem. that i felt like i care enough and in a way to do something. to buy a gift. to write some poems. to just doodle on things for her. just because its inspiration, its motivation, its something that makes me feel good. but. if im smart enough to take the advice from everyone, its time to turn the corner and walk away from it. while i undoubtedly would feel better, or feel closer to her because of it. would she? would she care, would she really appreciate it, and how would she react? its difficult. looking for a way to please someone as an outlet of positive frustration, but finding it could be a reception of more negative frustration for her. i want to stick to my guts. i want to think that im not wrong, that i do have a future with her. that i do connect better to her than to anyone else ive ever hoped to. that she does make me smile. something i dont do enough of. that she and i shared so many things as kids that in a way it makes it easy to talk between us just having so much in common. i want to feel like im right when i say i feel that she is everything ive looked for. but i know i have to say the truth outloud. that my prayers can sprinkle my hopes and dreams, but have to base themselves in my reality. because what else is a dream or a hope, if its not a prayer? if its not something you want to come true for you.

so i could write it down. i could post mark it and send it on its way. shed read it. and maybe keep it. but probably have to throw it away. because. if she kept it, shed have to answer up to her feelings and mine again. you cant accept someones heart on a page and put it in a drawer. you have to take it; you have to cherish it and them, or you have to crumple it up and toss it. you cant take someone's prayers and let them embody you, then never let them recieve it. you have to rip it up. you have to tell them that its not deserved. that its not what they want to hear. because they want to hear it from someone else. and thats why shed have to crush it and tear it up. even if she would have tears in her eyes, thats what shed have to do. because it leaves me hanging like this when she doesnt. it leaves me hanging on the words of prayers to and empty sky if i can never have what i want. and maybe she cant have what she wants until she does that either. maybe im all wrong. maybe shes just as conflicted as i am. confused. then i want her to crush it. i want her to crush my heart on a page, to shred with my tears, if she cant accept it as it is. even if she just doesnt know, or just isnt sure, or just doesnt feel ready, she has to do that. even if i had to use my hands to destroy my own heart for her, thats what would have to happen. maybe im too scared to do that. and thats why i wont do it. maybe im too scared to know that i would have to do what i say.

its a simple poem. thats what everyone says. its something short and sweet. it says i love you. and it ends. really thats all it needs to say. because when you look at that person, youll feel everything else they have to say, or they will feel everything you know you have to say to them. because playing the middle ground isnt being honest about the day. if you avoid giving love or receiving it, what is the day really end in?

just like i said i would. i was giving my two week notice today at work. turns out, i no longer have a job.

i walked in the door. got settled. started going through the normal routine. everyone was happy and talking to me. then the boss starts in. my last words to any employees were helping one of the water guys format a word document, and telling the secretary id be over in a second to schedule an istallation. the boss had other plans. he started right in on the same old shit.

at 8:35 he told me that i should "write 6 or 8 things that you need to do to be successful in the business on the board" puzzled for why, or what to write; i took a few minutes. then wrote some of the phrases - better than ___, knowledgeable, selective, convincing, honest, prepaired, faster than __. he made me explain everything behind them, and acted like every idea i had was a foreign subject to him. to be better than my competition since we all sell and service the same stuff; to be knowledgeable about what im dealing with that i dont have to make second trips or second guess information; to be convincing to the utmost to make customers see why they buy from us, to be honest with deals and integrity, to be prepaired to make a deal whenever i can, and be ready for anything; and to be faster at anything and everything than the competition was. the last phrase, selective. pissed him off. i explained it as... in 4 months youve had me spend 95% of my time prospecting, from that i have zero sales, and zero leads. // i write a big 0 on the board // then i said, from doing things with my approach in 5% of my time dealing with customers i have 4 sales. // i write 4 on the board, then drew a pie chart to match and connected the numbers // so, i need to be more selective. my time is worth my sales and my customers benefit. if i take 95% of my time to produce nothing, i wont be successful, so i need to be much more selective with prospecting and focus on customers.

he stood there. then boiled over. blah blah something about im not in a position to dictate things like that, that in my position i cant rule out anything. i need to be making 50 cold calls per day. i need to prospect my ass off constantly to find deals. i stop him. no, i said. i sought advice from people whove been in sales 20 years to 2 years, and everyone of them laugh at this model you want. they all agree, if i can get success with my way, stick with it. he shakes his head, folds his arms and stares at me. i again state more loudly, before i sit down, i will not loose 95% of my time to prospecting worthless accounts, for the company im a walking newspaper ad, and thats not selling anything in my territories. he sits down. "in this business, not everyone can make it. you need to realize not everyone will, and maybe this isnt for you. we want you to be successful and making cold calls and getting to cust---"

hes burning up now, because i cut him off as i reply dryly. "i hear this everytime, and you know what, frankly im sick of it. maybe its not, would you be more happy if we talked about this then?" and i pulled out my notice and dropped it on his desk. he stops. reads it quickly. never looks up at me. and says "fine. but i dont need this, youre done."

so pretty much like that, i wagered my job for the first time in my career. and i lost. i wagered that being successful said, your model sucks, its outdated, its defunct, and even the competition who is desparate, avoids it. and in all seriousness thats the truth about it. no one goes door to door. no one wastes time like that. except us. and im not getting sales from it. so the two cowpoke stand in the street. in my mind, i threw the first insult, and opened the jacket to show i was ready to draw. he paces me. says "fine" then cheap shots me in the guts. he never wanted to kill me out right. because if he took the time to draw a bead, i had him dead to rights all day long. i could go around and around about the feasability of going door to door in a 4 county area, and be right. but thats just not what he wants to hear. so he takes a low, quick shot, to put me down on the ground. what kind of man does that? the one that told me on my first week, he was going to be my role model, as a sales man and as i became a man. i laughed at him then. and walking out the door, clutching my guts, i laugh at him now.

did i ever want to own RK Dixon? hell no. did i ever want to be the best sales man in the company? fuck no. did i want to make money? yes. was prospecting at $1500, minus 500 per month in gas, and 300 in car insurance going to make me money? nope. but thats all they want. so he tried to dry me out and stick in bfe, to see if id break. instead, i bent around it; and managed to make sales my way. he couldnt take it. so thats why i forced the showdown. had he understood that, or consented that it could be a viable way to grow the market, id have never put down my cards. but he started right in on the same lines of shit again. and i dont need that. and obviously, i was no loss on his conscious.

the next 5 minutes saw me bring in my files, dump them all over his desk, drop my laptop onto that pile at chest height, and flip my key card on top of all of it. i signed 4 pages of rules, then flipped my pen on the desk muttered "keep the change" under my breath, and clarified "thats it?" .... "thats it." he said. and i walked out.

so like that i was fired. by 9:05am, i was in the driveway at home again. lost. worried. upset. but proud. in a shifty way, i won that gunfight. he will forever say to his deathbed that i lost it. but i know i won, because i walked away. somewhat damaged. but i walked away. and now he has 4 counties of horseshit to prospect with his time. in an office of 6 sales reps, he has 3 now. youll never find a horse to run that circuit by yourself. and all he had to do was listen to someone. listen to reason. sure. im the punk calling you out in the street mr big bad boss man. but im calling you out because everyone knows im in the right. business dies if it cant adapt or accept ideas. their days are numbered. and so was mine. so to romanticize it all makes me feel better about it. but really in the end, im better off for this. ill be poor. ill be jobless. ill be the "looser" for them. like everything else in my life, ill be the looser. ill be the guy that cant get dates. ill be the guy who every woman finds it ok to break my heart. ill be the guy that goes into work on pain meds to make it in because you dont want to. im the guy that stops and changes tires in the mud so some so-ho wont get wet. ill be the one that gets beat up for what he thinks is right everytime. ill be the one that deals with the shit-eating jobs because someone, somewhere thinks thats all im worth. but ill be damned if i ever roll over to someone like that, even if it costs me my job. and this time it did.

like i said. in some shifty way, i won that gun fight.


{{by the way, the scene is a screen capture from For A Few Dollars More }}

so tomorrow i give my notice. im sick of the crap. im sick of the attitudes. im sick of how they treat me. im sick of working a job thats never going to make me money until 18 months from now. im fucking tired of being in a position where its not working out, and it aggrivates me more every day i go in. so. im cutting the cord. they get me until next friday. if they want, ill leave this friday. or tomorrow afternoon. but fuck it all. im done being a bitch for this place.

ive now been upgraded to narcotics to deal with this back problem. its not necessarily that it hurts so much in constant pain, its that it hurts so strongly when its agitated. like when i sit, or when i lift. or yes, when they repack the hole. so. its scary. i might brag abit about getting moved up, but in reality when i went to pick up the medication, i was a bit apprehensive. i just wish they made something like vicodin for my life.

im getting dug into that ditch at work, where they are starting to expect me to be just like the other reps with 6 years of tenure... and im not. im in the point of my life where id very much like to earn my age in salary, at a minimum. and im not. id like to be independent again. but i cant be. and i really want whats in my dreams every night to actually happen for me once. sometimes its a struggle to make ends meet. sometimes its difficult to put over the top at your job. its not always easy to get the respect you deserve in your life. and chasing your dreams, is really just that... a chase. but why does it feel like nothing can line up right for me now. i get the analogy about throwing dice someone sent me. that when you crap out, you should throw the dice one more time, when its for no money, to see that its just luck, and to see that luck can change. its just hard to follow that when you see the same things on the dice each time.

i guess i should be lucky that im as healthy as a im right now. or that i have a place to sleep. or that i even have a job, and arent still unemployed. but. god damnit none of that cures lonliness. none of that makes it ok, when your dreams come to realize they just dont want you dreaming about them. i guess maybe thats why they give me stronger drugs. to make the pain go away.