It's been a minute since I have done anything with writing or music, or even on the blog. The job market is tough, or maybe all of the jobs I am qualified for are the same jobs that everyone else looking for a job seems to be qualified for.
My trip to Indiana, well, let's just say, that's where I used to be from...I made a trip to visit stepdad number 1, that isn't doing to well, heart failure this, oxygen tank that, last wishes blah blah blah. I say this to downplay it, because that's what I know how to do. I learned that I will not become my mother. I will not be a victim to food, and a slave to laziness. I will not consume consume consume. I will not live in filth and surround myself with stupidity and hate, just out of spite for the kid that packed up and moved to "ORYGONE" We never had much growing up, and what we did, mom got from us through guilt. She has money now from husband #Ilostcount and cannot stop consuming...
4 trashcans of trash per week, that's how much.
About 24 bottles of water per day.
Recycling is to hard she says.
It's heartbreaking...not to mention a 6 dollar tip on a 70 dollar meal.
So after coming home I write a not so nice review about an "annex" to a popular restaurant , a new version of a very popular restaraunt featured on all the cooking and travel shows. The new spot is little, and confusing, and the award winning chef just happened to be there, I didn't know it was him, I just know that the manager (read award winning chef) was beyond rude, and not to one person, to the whole place, customers, staff, even the food was fucking mad. I called him out on his behavior as many others before me have. Well he didn't like being called an asshole, or being told that his food is too fucking salty, saying that if I had a problem with it, I should have brought it up then to have it fixed. What this guy isn't understanding, is that he was the problem, he is an asshole, and his food is subpar and over priced, if I would have said something then, I am pretty sure the cops would have been called because I am sure the nice manager loves a confrontation...That got me banned from ever going back, my picture is posted at all of his places. I'm having a friend sneak in and draw curly mustaches on them, it will make me look more sophisticated.
Tuesday, June 14, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
My bad
Being new to this blog thing, it sure is easy to come up with other shit to do rather than write here, well, I didn't life did.
A week ago Friday, I had absolutely nothing to do...not one thing. So we headed out to the opposite end of town to enjoy a drive through the neighborhoods in the sun. We took Caesar Chavez till you couldn't any more, got turned around back and forth, minimal yelling occurred, it was a gorgeous day. We decided to take full advantage and go in the Goodwill outlet, commonly referred to as "the bins."
Bin after bin of shit they couldn't sell at goodwill, or was too dirty to sell, or didn't work etc. They tell you it's all by the pound but, it isn't. Everything I found that I liked was on a giant menu board reminding me, that, everything is priced per pound...except the shit "you" picked out. A new bin of just shoes was introduced to the hordes of piranha. Small shop owners, crackheads, old people, young people...basically Skidmore fountain on Saturday gathered around waiting for the wheels to be chocked, so they could begging feeding.
What a sight!
A few minutes later, my phone rang, not a number I know, but it's close. I couldn't get to the call in time so I went to listen to the voicemail.
My heart sank.
It was my step-dad. Not current step-dad, or previous one...fuck, I lost count, it was the first one, the one that I spent every day after school with, the one that taught me my hands were made to play guitar. Told me I was smart, that masturbating wasn't dirty, and he would love me no matter what. When he found out I was gay, and not from me, he was hurt a bit, but understood my reflectance. He was calling to tell me that he was dying, and didn't have much time. As hard as that is to hear, it was the first time I had ever considered how hard that would be to tell someone.
So, needless to say, I am flying back to Indiana for a few days. Hang out with the old man, play some guitar, cook some kick-ass food, have a drink...a last hurray, but I would much prefer this than a "you need to book a flight for a funeral" call. When I told him I was coming, he sounded so much better, that maybe he is trying to clear things up so he can go more easily, or that he is just stoked to see me. Either way, it feels good, which I know is selfish and bullshit...I'm good with it.
So 2 days after this, Baxter's health takes a dive bomb...in a scary way. Laying on his side, throwing up, no strength, eyesight, or bowel control, it didn't look good. So we took to feeding him , like we did when gus was a baby, pumpkin, mixing the food with pumpkin soothes the stomach....and 4 days later, this 14 year old cockerspaniel is playing and wagging his tail again!
A week ago Friday, I had absolutely nothing to do...not one thing. So we headed out to the opposite end of town to enjoy a drive through the neighborhoods in the sun. We took Caesar Chavez till you couldn't any more, got turned around back and forth, minimal yelling occurred, it was a gorgeous day. We decided to take full advantage and go in the Goodwill outlet, commonly referred to as "the bins."
Bin after bin of shit they couldn't sell at goodwill, or was too dirty to sell, or didn't work etc. They tell you it's all by the pound but, it isn't. Everything I found that I liked was on a giant menu board reminding me, that, everything is priced per pound...except the shit "you" picked out. A new bin of just shoes was introduced to the hordes of piranha. Small shop owners, crackheads, old people, young people...basically Skidmore fountain on Saturday gathered around waiting for the wheels to be chocked, so they could begging feeding.
What a sight!
A few minutes later, my phone rang, not a number I know, but it's close. I couldn't get to the call in time so I went to listen to the voicemail.
My heart sank.
It was my step-dad. Not current step-dad, or previous one...fuck, I lost count, it was the first one, the one that I spent every day after school with, the one that taught me my hands were made to play guitar. Told me I was smart, that masturbating wasn't dirty, and he would love me no matter what. When he found out I was gay, and not from me, he was hurt a bit, but understood my reflectance. He was calling to tell me that he was dying, and didn't have much time. As hard as that is to hear, it was the first time I had ever considered how hard that would be to tell someone.
So, needless to say, I am flying back to Indiana for a few days. Hang out with the old man, play some guitar, cook some kick-ass food, have a drink...a last hurray, but I would much prefer this than a "you need to book a flight for a funeral" call. When I told him I was coming, he sounded so much better, that maybe he is trying to clear things up so he can go more easily, or that he is just stoked to see me. Either way, it feels good, which I know is selfish and bullshit...I'm good with it.
So 2 days after this, Baxter's health takes a dive bomb...in a scary way. Laying on his side, throwing up, no strength, eyesight, or bowel control, it didn't look good. So we took to feeding him , like we did when gus was a baby, pumpkin, mixing the food with pumpkin soothes the stomach....and 4 days later, this 14 year old cockerspaniel is playing and wagging his tail again!
Thursday, April 7, 2011
...is it summer yet?
So before moving here, I heard that it rained, a lot, and it affected people. I did the research. The rainfall totals here are far less than most places in the midwest, southeast, fuck, everywhere but the desert. The part they don't tell you, it's not the rain, it's maybe not the grey, its the fact it lasts for 8 months. No joke.
How could I let the weather beat me? I am above all of this clinical scare tactic the media has installed in us around the time you would celebrate your mitzvah.
Idiot.
To admit defeat to rain cloud, to the nourishment of green, the propellant of life in the PNW, is okay. I am not from California. The shit I put up with before, severe storms for at least 2 months a year, extreme in one form of another every season, I am glad that is over, I wasn't prepared.
I am now. This summer, i get tan, I spend it outside all day everyday, I get fit...not because I am trying, but because it takes a lot of calories to bike across town to visit one of 12 things going on, on any Saturday.
September was a long time ago.
Hiking in the rain is cool in October. The wet hike loses much glamor after a time or two, and it's April, and I just want it to be warm enough to walk in the shade without a coat. I am not even considering a hike...well wishing for one is a proper way to say it, but it's too chilly still, just not ready.
Besides going to the bar, or a walk, what can I do? I miss forgetting to apply sunscreen.
There is only so many times I can post a picture of the fucking bridge on facebook.
How could I let the weather beat me? I am above all of this clinical scare tactic the media has installed in us around the time you would celebrate your mitzvah.
Idiot.
To admit defeat to rain cloud, to the nourishment of green, the propellant of life in the PNW, is okay. I am not from California. The shit I put up with before, severe storms for at least 2 months a year, extreme in one form of another every season, I am glad that is over, I wasn't prepared.
I am now. This summer, i get tan, I spend it outside all day everyday, I get fit...not because I am trying, but because it takes a lot of calories to bike across town to visit one of 12 things going on, on any Saturday.
September was a long time ago.
Hiking in the rain is cool in October. The wet hike loses much glamor after a time or two, and it's April, and I just want it to be warm enough to walk in the shade without a coat. I am not even considering a hike...well wishing for one is a proper way to say it, but it's too chilly still, just not ready.
Besides going to the bar, or a walk, what can I do? I miss forgetting to apply sunscreen.
There is only so many times I can post a picture of the fucking bridge on facebook.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Religiosity
So, after a pissed off start to my day, enduring a mind-fuck from a "friend," I hung out with a real friend. She came to hang out, met Mr. Gus (he says hi). Gus found a friend, for the first time since living in this apartment, he was cool with someone. That fucking rules, so hard, I was worried I couldn't take him to get his next set of shots because of his tension level....today a measurable undo-able progress was made. Yeah!
So anyways, we were talking about a new goth bar she has a crush on. Ah, the goth kids...how I miss you so. Not that I wore corpse paint and solid black and mourned the death of art with a viel on my face...no, but we have many things in common.
In highschool I was the first kid to wear that Marylin Manson t-shirt, I wasn't the roudiest kid, the most badass, the funniest, smartest, dumbest, gifted, advantaged, or otherwise. I was normal, the only difference is, like only a few others I knew, I was "awake." I understood the goth kids because I myself was an outcast because of stereotypes and ignorance.
We didn't buy it, the top 10 charts, the Nikes, the name brand jeans, "The Rachel" haircut, the " you need to do this next in life bullshit.
No we got kicked out of art class...we got sent to the principals office for speaking our minds, and we got reprimanded for telling the truth. It's called being awake, I used quotations before, fuck those, we are past that now. We got baked in Jesse's truck before 1st period, and passed out in 3rd, to wake up 4th in time for lunch. Then we got a second helping of carbs, chased it with a coke, and played decoy so our friends could smoke cigarettes and continue with the day...they were 18 and enlisted in the military, cut some fucking slack. We ask a few questions in a student convocation and all of a sudden, our handbooks are ripped up and the faculty is in a tizzy.
Back to the goth thing.... I wore a Manson shirt to school when I lived in North Carolina, the teachers like the cleverness of the shirt, and the fact I was okay and confident to wear it...in Missouri, they called my parents to tell them the student body was praying for me...(this kind of shit causes Columbines, knock it off, you aren't helping.) When I moved back to Indiana, we had to break christian protest lines to see manson in concert..."going to hell," "Jesus loves me," and "you are satan" all from the same protest group...glad they got together before hand to gain solidarity in their protest. Instead of telling people what they are doing wrong, protesting and making a community not involved with the conflict uncomfortable, maybe you should just educate your children, and volunteer that time and energy to help someone that needs it, maybe act like the "christian" you are criticizing others for not being... maybe.
I know focusing energy on your own community is a hard bite to swallow, but so are babies.
So anyways, we were talking about a new goth bar she has a crush on. Ah, the goth kids...how I miss you so. Not that I wore corpse paint and solid black and mourned the death of art with a viel on my face...no, but we have many things in common.
In highschool I was the first kid to wear that Marylin Manson t-shirt, I wasn't the roudiest kid, the most badass, the funniest, smartest, dumbest, gifted, advantaged, or otherwise. I was normal, the only difference is, like only a few others I knew, I was "awake." I understood the goth kids because I myself was an outcast because of stereotypes and ignorance.
We didn't buy it, the top 10 charts, the Nikes, the name brand jeans, "The Rachel" haircut, the " you need to do this next in life bullshit.
No we got kicked out of art class...we got sent to the principals office for speaking our minds, and we got reprimanded for telling the truth. It's called being awake, I used quotations before, fuck those, we are past that now. We got baked in Jesse's truck before 1st period, and passed out in 3rd, to wake up 4th in time for lunch. Then we got a second helping of carbs, chased it with a coke, and played decoy so our friends could smoke cigarettes and continue with the day...they were 18 and enlisted in the military, cut some fucking slack. We ask a few questions in a student convocation and all of a sudden, our handbooks are ripped up and the faculty is in a tizzy.
Back to the goth thing.... I wore a Manson shirt to school when I lived in North Carolina, the teachers like the cleverness of the shirt, and the fact I was okay and confident to wear it...in Missouri, they called my parents to tell them the student body was praying for me...(this kind of shit causes Columbines, knock it off, you aren't helping.) When I moved back to Indiana, we had to break christian protest lines to see manson in concert..."going to hell," "Jesus loves me," and "you are satan" all from the same protest group...glad they got together before hand to gain solidarity in their protest. Instead of telling people what they are doing wrong, protesting and making a community not involved with the conflict uncomfortable, maybe you should just educate your children, and volunteer that time and energy to help someone that needs it, maybe act like the "christian" you are criticizing others for not being... maybe.
I know focusing energy on your own community is a hard bite to swallow, but so are babies.
Thursday, March 31, 2011
So now my mind is a wandering...
After completing a total of 15 plus magnets, an art panel, and the creation of my blog, my mind is wandering...the bowl, enchiladas, and 3 episodes of "Weeds" may or may have not contributed. Perhaps it was the Ipod and it's selection process.
I have been so quick to blame my (former) job, weather, and depression on my lack of motivation on art project and music writing abilities. I just realized, my Ipod is to blame. Picking the same songs over and over and back to back songs off of the same album. I didn't put weeks and weeks of songs from my collection on my computer to listen to 2 lessons of "Singing for Dummies" in a row. I want to hear "Battery" by Metallica followed by "Mother Mother" by Tracey Bohnam..
...today, it's delivering, metal, rap, rock, comedy, it's playing some good shit, and in the proper order; thank you Ipod.
I realize, I am writing the same shit every other self loathing fuck does, but, It's my blog and it will come along at it's own pace.
So today I went to an employment agency, one run by the state...I was excited and a bit nervous on my way there, but as soon as I entered the door, many apprehensions went away. Straight ahead are 2 people behind a desk. The way I see it, these people deal with it all. The craziest fucks in the city. I respect that she greeted me with a smile, I dug that she was nice too! Was she new?
Upon first glance of the place, I see it all. There is a dude that looks like he stepped out of Highlander, long hair, trench coat...might as well have had some fucking armor on, wouldn't matter anyways, we aren't in a church and I have no intentions of cutting off your head. There was a small framed Hispanic lady wearing Spongebob pajamas and an inside out sweatshirt? I was worried about my khakis and button down shirt without a tie. HA!
After 3 or 4 minutes of being set down at a computer terminal, and angry man came back scolding me for sitting down, even though the chair I sat in was pulled out for me, I apologized (?) just being courteous, and he curtly reminded me that it was fine. He was frustrated, apparently the dude next to me is capable of peeing clean and that is it. As I was taking my math assessment, they were still on step on, putting in number 15 of 18 jobs from last year alone! His phone rang..."SIR TURN OFF YOUR PHONE!"
He yelled back, "Sorry!" and ran outside to take the call, 10 times this happened, I finished the reading one too quickly because I couldn't focus. Bullshit I know, but that guy didn't even know how to tell ( or what it even meant) to have CAP Lock on.
SHOE IN
If peeing in a cup cleanly is all you need your employees to do to trust them, I am not sure that is a company I want to work for. They don't care how stupid, abusive, ignorant, incapable you are, you must not smoke pot in your free time. Alcohol is okay.
Either way, I will do what I need to do. I take a career exploration class starting wed. next week. I am pretty excited about that, its the first time I had heard since being a kid that it was okay not to know what you wanted to do.
So on my exit debrief, after signing up for that class, the job coach or whatever they are called, pulled up my job matches.
"This one pays 9.50 and it....ah, its in retail...ah."
It was a position for an attendant at an adult bookstore...breaking dollar bills for the booths, and mopping up the jizz of a closet case after a random encounter? Why not, I am ready for new things.
Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes made of ticky tacky
Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same
There’s a green one and a pink one and a blue one and a yellow one
And they’re all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.
I have been so quick to blame my (former) job, weather, and depression on my lack of motivation on art project and music writing abilities. I just realized, my Ipod is to blame. Picking the same songs over and over and back to back songs off of the same album. I didn't put weeks and weeks of songs from my collection on my computer to listen to 2 lessons of "Singing for Dummies" in a row. I want to hear "Battery" by Metallica followed by "Mother Mother" by Tracey Bohnam..
...today, it's delivering, metal, rap, rock, comedy, it's playing some good shit, and in the proper order; thank you Ipod.
I realize, I am writing the same shit every other self loathing fuck does, but, It's my blog and it will come along at it's own pace.
So today I went to an employment agency, one run by the state...I was excited and a bit nervous on my way there, but as soon as I entered the door, many apprehensions went away. Straight ahead are 2 people behind a desk. The way I see it, these people deal with it all. The craziest fucks in the city. I respect that she greeted me with a smile, I dug that she was nice too! Was she new?
Upon first glance of the place, I see it all. There is a dude that looks like he stepped out of Highlander, long hair, trench coat...might as well have had some fucking armor on, wouldn't matter anyways, we aren't in a church and I have no intentions of cutting off your head. There was a small framed Hispanic lady wearing Spongebob pajamas and an inside out sweatshirt? I was worried about my khakis and button down shirt without a tie. HA!
After 3 or 4 minutes of being set down at a computer terminal, and angry man came back scolding me for sitting down, even though the chair I sat in was pulled out for me, I apologized (?) just being courteous, and he curtly reminded me that it was fine. He was frustrated, apparently the dude next to me is capable of peeing clean and that is it. As I was taking my math assessment, they were still on step on, putting in number 15 of 18 jobs from last year alone! His phone rang..."SIR TURN OFF YOUR PHONE!"
He yelled back, "Sorry!" and ran outside to take the call, 10 times this happened, I finished the reading one too quickly because I couldn't focus. Bullshit I know, but that guy didn't even know how to tell ( or what it even meant) to have CAP Lock on.
SHOE IN
If peeing in a cup cleanly is all you need your employees to do to trust them, I am not sure that is a company I want to work for. They don't care how stupid, abusive, ignorant, incapable you are, you must not smoke pot in your free time. Alcohol is okay.
Either way, I will do what I need to do. I take a career exploration class starting wed. next week. I am pretty excited about that, its the first time I had heard since being a kid that it was okay not to know what you wanted to do.
So on my exit debrief, after signing up for that class, the job coach or whatever they are called, pulled up my job matches.
"This one pays 9.50 and it....ah, its in retail...ah."
It was a position for an attendant at an adult bookstore...breaking dollar bills for the booths, and mopping up the jizz of a closet case after a random encounter? Why not, I am ready for new things.
Little boxes on the hillside, Little boxes made of ticky tacky
Little boxes on the hillside, little boxes all the same
There’s a green one and a pink one and a blue one and a yellow one
And they’re all made out of ticky tacky and they all look just the same.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Dear blog cherry...it's time to pop you.
Since I knew about the internet in about 8th grade, (I am 30 now) I have been amazed by it. The first thing I ever saw internet related in person besides my uncles porn collection, was the computer tech at school "dialing in" and using it...as...get this, a phone book! I volunteered my number in a kiss ass fashion as hope full get first dibs, or a little extra time at the controls.
No dice, I didn't even get to click the fucking enter key, and there it was, my phone number and address for the entire class to see! No one cared, why would they. I have to say that since halfway through my freshman year of college, I have been without Internet access in one form or another for a total of 2 weeks; that's it. Some days I log in once, and consider myself disconnected for the rest of the day...but I now have a fancy new phone with Internet access so it's rare, but I do make the effort regularly these days.
I pulled that trigger. My first blog. I don't know what has been stopping me, besides myself. I am quite the Internet savvy person, I thought, but when I searched for places to star a blog, clicking create profile was a hard task to complete. So, today, I say pop. Middle finger at that create profile button, and post number one is in the books. That wasn't so hard.
Now what?
No dice, I didn't even get to click the fucking enter key, and there it was, my phone number and address for the entire class to see! No one cared, why would they. I have to say that since halfway through my freshman year of college, I have been without Internet access in one form or another for a total of 2 weeks; that's it. Some days I log in once, and consider myself disconnected for the rest of the day...but I now have a fancy new phone with Internet access so it's rare, but I do make the effort regularly these days.
I pulled that trigger. My first blog. I don't know what has been stopping me, besides myself. I am quite the Internet savvy person, I thought, but when I searched for places to star a blog, clicking create profile was a hard task to complete. So, today, I say pop. Middle finger at that create profile button, and post number one is in the books. That wasn't so hard.
Now what?
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