I wish I was someone better.

Not really. Consider the following e-mails:

Employer Views: 2

Still! How aggravating. If I had only developed a resume and profile at this employment site, I might be in serious trouble. But, I have pursued several different venues and have applied for employment in three different states. So, my chances should be fairly hopeful. Anyway, here's another:

December 16, 2010

NOTICE OF PASSING EXAM SCORE

Congratulations, you have passed the following exam:

[rest of email omitted.]

So, that means what exactly? Your guess is as good as mine, maybe even better. Basically it means that I might get called for an interview once they process the applications of everyone else who passed the exam and applied for that job vacancy. But, it means I'm slightly more likely to stay in West Virginia than I would have been otherwise. In any case, I've at least met the necessary requirements for the state job I'm so hoping to be considered and hired for.

In summation, it doesn't actually mean anything. But, it means more than nothing so that's something? I have to check my Englimatics. Yes, it means more than nothing but less than anything so it equals something by default. Logically speaking theoretically, hypothetically, possibly, hopefully, and desperately.

Anyway, I had my first interview on Tuesday. It went fairly well. I sat down with the assistant manager of a location in Charleston for a pet store. That alone was personally entertaining since I have zero experience in that retail industry and I barely recall applying for the job in the first place. But, it was good experience going through the whole interview process since it's been about four years since I've dealt with any of it. It was also entertaining for an entirely different reason as well. The assistant manager was originally from Pittsburgh, so we spent the majority of the hour trading war stories about acclimating to the West by God Virginian lifestyle, culture, and community. It was beyond lovely. Unfortunately, I can't actually imagine myself staying in West Virginia to pursue that career path - that alone wouldn't be enough to sway me to stay. It wasn't until the end of the interview that I realized I had neglected to remove the size sticker from the side of the new pants I had chosen to wear that day. I had been in a hurry after falling back asleep, rushing to make it to the interview at least a few minutes early to make a proper first impression, and simply hadn't the time or personal awareness to notice it. I hope no one else noticed it either. It's possible no one did. During the interview, we were sitting next to each other on a bench and the leg the sticker was on was facing away from my interviewer. So... it's possible it went unnoticed. Unlikely, but possible. How mortifying. I did acquire a second follow-up interview with the store manager for tomorrow afternoon, so if it was noticed it may have factored into the interview and scored me some pity points. I owe it to myself to follow this process through and at least consider whatever offer they have to make - if any. Again, I don't have any experience in that market so I can completely understand there being someone (read as: anyone at all, practically) with more experience and better qualifications for that staffing situation.

But I had fun, so who cares?

That has been my only call back thus far. Less than inspiring results so far with the job hunt, but at least I've received that much consideration.

I'm really hoping the state job at least contacts me for an interview in the next week. It's hard to plan my next move until I have a better understanding of what my options are. Everything is just pending and unknown right now. This has prompted me to amend the subtitle of this blog as you'll notice above. That's what it feels like for me at the moment. Lingering in purgatory. It's not as horrible as it could be, but it's moderately frustrating and exhausting.

In the meantime, I've done a great deal of packing and have reduced the bulk of my possessions down to the lowest common denominator by either trashing or donating to Goodwill the things I don't necessarily need or want. Either way, I imagine I'm leaving apartment H in the very immediate future. Can't say I'm sad to go, either. I've never particularly cared for this little shithole I've called home this past year. It has served its purpose and I'll never forget my time here, but I think that time has come to its natural conclusion. So... I'm either moving to Charleston (South Charleston, most likely) or I'm moving to...

Well, you'll just have to wait for that. Same as me.

Pretty, little hopes.

I can breathe again. That is such a relief. I was seriously freaking the hell out. But, everything is working out now. I'll explain it all. I had intended on going back to the unemployment office yesterday morning and applying for benefits because I am in dire need. Well, actually, no. But, that's only true because I haven't had to pay any bills yet. But, those due dates are approaching and considering the week wait without benefits and then the delay between when they go into effect and when I actually start receiving them... Well, that could be halfway through January and I'd be homeless by then if I couldn't manage to find employment. Even if I did, I might not start receiving paychecks until about the same time. So, I decided it would be better to not wait any longer even if that would mean collecting about $400 less per month than if I could manage to hold out until January before filing. Anyway, I left the house yesterday morning bright and early with the intention of filing for unemployment in Charleston, but I didn't even make it out of town before I remembered to make sure I had all my paperwork in order. I pulled over at a gas station to make sure. I had all the forms filled out and ready in a binder. I had my GPS, because I get lost in Charleston every single time (even with it). What I didn't have was my social security card. I can't honestly remember the last time I actually needed that card, let alone saw it. Fortunately, I saved myself a wasted trip to Charleston when I discovered I didn't have it. Unfortunately, I spent the next 24 hours looking for it in vain. I did make sure to multitask and use the opportunity to not only search through everything in my apartment but to organize and reduce the bulk of my possessions as well. Seven garbage bags of actual trash, five garbage bags of future Goodwill donations, and three totes of sorted and packed belongings later - still no card. I did manage to find my birth certificate and my ServSafe certification. I also found my scores from the practice ACT from... over a decade ago. That's a slap in the face. I then revised my plan. I would go early the next morning to the social security office in town to start the process of acquiring a new card. Then... well. Then I'd figure out the rest of my plan in play. It would all depend on what happened at the social security office. Everything would be determined there.

This worried me greatly for a few reasons. Mainly, not having that card means not being able to apply for unemployment benefits but it could also mean not being able to complete pre-hire paperwork in the event that I am successful at finding employment before I get my replacement card. That is assuming they wouldn't be able to provide me with a temporary card in the meantime, which would just be my luck. So, I'm back to freaking out again.

I use this time to research unemployment benefits. The website made it abundantly clear that I would need my social security card to file. While I was aimlessly browsing the site, I stumbled upon something else quite by marvelous accident. State job vacancies.

I used to have a job like that. I was an idiot and left it in the hopes that I was pursuing something better and more lucrative. It wasn't a career position. It wasn't even full time. So, it's not like I was giving up a government pension or anything. Still, I was an idiot for leaving it for this new world of shit I find myself in.

Alot of the postings were simply and continuously accepting applications to create an applicant pool in anticipation of an actual need for one but the positions weren't vacant at all. A few were. These had closing dates, prerequisites, location assignments, salaries, benefits, vague descriptions. Very typical that last bit. I found one in particular that suited my needs and experience. The salary range was considerable and the high end of which was comparable to my previous one. Better yet, it's a full time permanent career position. I almost peed myself. Seriously. I was and still am that excited. The posting closes this Thursday. I submitted my application yesterday morning and received instant confirmation by email. I have to take the exam tomorrow (Thursday) in Charleston. I called and confirmed that would be acceptable. The deadline is midnight and I will be considered as long as I complete all the prerequisites by then. The evaluation process could take 2-4 weeks after that, but I would know something one way or the other. That's more than I can say for all these other job applications. The silence is aggravating. Anyway, I'll be taking that exam on Thursday evening. That's after I inquire about getting a new social security card tomorrow and then hit up the DMV for my vehicle registration and state driver's license. By the time they process my application and test results, I'll be a legitimate, card carrying West by God Virginian. Believe it.

Do I sound revved up and cocky? Yeah, I can not wait until the interview. I'm hungry. Starved. Ravenous. I am getting that fucking job.

But, that's not even the best part. What about applying for unemployment benefits? I seem to have omitted that part of my revised plan. Yes, that is true. I did intend to add that in there somewhere until a few moments ago. I have been checking the status of my termination for weeks now. At some point yesterday - probably while I passed out for six hours in the midst of my crazed search for my social security card - my termination was officially finalized. It's official. I'm unemployed. Release those funds! That transaction is currently pending. Very, very exciting. I can survive until January now. Far beyond actually, but I will be applying for benefits at that time and everything will be fine while I wait for the results from my application and test.

Stated simply: Getting fired might be the best thing that's happened to me since transferring to West Virginia. Seriously. That job... that career... that industry... I never actually wanted any of it. It's a funny story actually. I'll tell you all about it in my next post which will probably happen sometime after my excursions to various official offices and a long, peaceful nap. I don't want to digress any further.

This is what I want. I really hope it happens for me. If not, that's fine. It's not ideal and I'll be greatly disappointed, but it'll be fine. At least I don't have to worry so damn much anymore. Actually, I don't have to worry at all. Something is going to happen for me and I can wait comfortably until it does.

Optimism is delicious. Try some.

Posed to death.

Employer Views: 2

I'm getting really, really good at filling out online forms and selecting things from drop down menus. I should list that as a skill.

I did not exercise today. I did not venture out to the DMV. I did not do anything except fill out applications for several hours and wait. I spoke to a recruiter about CDL training in Indianapolis and my potential future career as a truck driver. It sounds completely horrible. The proposed starting salary is equal to my former one, though. Hurray for that. I guess. I'm going to think about that and hope someone else calls me soon.

At this point, I'm applying for any and every thing. I don't care. I will do practically anything for money right now. I don't have any pride anymore. Speaking of which, I've decided to go back to the unemployment office tomorrow and discuss my options. I'm not sure I can wait until January. Hopefully they missed something the first time - namely my reported income from the state of Ohio - and that will mean enough money to survive while I continue my job search and wait for my termination to be finalized and the release of my retirement fund.

Not sure when I'll be able to send out my Christmas packages to the family. Might be well after Christmas at this rate. If I do end up moving back home, I'll save money on postage.

Yeah. Hurray.

I just received notice by mail that I can continue my benefits for just $xxx.xx a month for the next 18 months. How exciting. I have until January to decide. That's lovely.

I don't have a lot to say. Nothing has really changed from 12 hours ago.

You're causing a scene, ba-by.

Employer Views: 1

Well... that's legitimately disappointing. But... 1 is better than 0. Right?

[silence lasting well over five minutes]

Ok. That's fine. It's not even 3am. So... No one important is even thinking about getting ready for work yet, let alone perusing hopeful applicant resumes online. Right?

[silence lasting...]

I'm thinking about starting an exercise program. I mean... anything to not stress/obsess over this. Besides that, I discontinued my last one because I got so busy at work and couldn't possibly be bothered to find the time. Well, I've got the time now, don't I? I think this is a brilliant idea. I'll work out for like 5 hours and then take a shower. That'll make it almost 8am. Then, I'll check my e-mail before I go to the DMV. I might walk there if it's not too cold. It's not like I don't have all damn day and it's only ten miles. I might be tired, though, from all the insane exercise. Although, once I channel my rage, I'll be unstoppable. We'll see, I guess. I have to go to the DMV since I've finally got all my paperwork sorted out (3 months later) and can register my vehicle in the state (just when I'm about to potentially leave it). Then I can actually get the damage from the deer hit-and-run estimated and eventually repaired. When I get home, if I still don't have any interested employers trying to track me down, I'll submit several more applications and forward my resume on to even more powers that be. Maybe I'll pack up some more of the apartment and post some of my larger possessions on Craig's List or something so I won't have to cart them to places unknown when I go where ever the hell I'm going when I'm not able to pay the next month of rent in 25 days.

[silence]

I have to wait until January to claim unemployment because of the raise I received earlier this year. If I claim it now, I'll lose out on $400/month. Crazy, I know. That's almost my rent. That's more than an auto loan payment. It takes up to thirty days for the company responsible for handling my retirement to receive official notice of my termination and then respond by releasing funds. In the meantime...

Optimism is a hard, bitter pill to swallow.

[update]

I filled out several more applications. Yay.

[/unconvincing, forced, sarcastic optimism]

You're wearing out that note.

My sister was just here for the weekend. Which was great since I didn't have anything to distract me from simply freaking the hell out from Friday until Monday. The weekend is just a dead zone for the unemployed. No one worries about human resources over the weekend. So, I'm very excited about today. I'm really hoping someone calls me about a job today. Come on, Monday. Redeem thyself.

I don't mind not working. I don't mind it at all. In fact, I'm loving it. I am, however, not so thrilled about not having money. Or being homeless. Not that I would be without a home, I would just be living in one belonging to someone else as I continued to try to salvage my life. Again. I almost threw up just now. Yeah. I need to figure this out and now. Immediately. Hopefully today. I have my interview outfit ready. Remember that sweater vest incident from... several months ago? Yeah. I got one this time. It was very easy since they're actually in season right now. Anyway... I just need the call then a time and place. I will destroy that interview. No one sells it like I do. I can out enthuse anyone. I'm a one man riot.

I've started packing. Either way - job or no, I'm probably moving soon. Most of the current and adequately paying employment opportunities are about 40-50 miles west of here, which will be fine in the short term. I did that for a few months when I first transferred here while they were still building my permanent location. Those were really long days. 12 hour days with commute. Yikes. So, I could do it again for awhile, but I'd definitely be in the market for an apartment closer to my money maker. I'm gonna shake that sucker like a snow globe.

I've been electronically pimping myself out for a week now. I will resume more of the same tomorrow. It's a process. It's a long, irritating, bullshit process.

Seriously? You must be joking.

They just look at me. The older one is perched on one of those motorized scooters. The younger one has left her milk crate to approach me. She looks back at the other one. I'm not sure they heard me so I repeat myself.

"Seriously? You must be joking."

"Is there something funny about me and my mother being poor and hungry?"

"I didn't imply that and no."

"So, can you help us out?"

"I don't carry cash."

"Who doesn't carry cash?"

"Aside from the obvious?" They're looking confused again. I need to save the wit for those who can appreciate it. My readers, perhaps? "By that, I mean you." Still nothing. "I don't! As I just now said mere seconds ago."

"Well... maybe you can give us a ride to McDonald's or something? Buy us some happy meals to make us feel better? Might make you feel better, too."

"Where would I put the scooter?"

"Oh, she could wait here for us. She could wait all day if she needed to." There's something about the way she's looking at me. It's not entirely unlike hunger, only I'm the meat. That's a crazy thought, but those eyes are insane and they want something from me. Something that isn't food. "Might be nice with just the two of us. Might be real nice." Oh my fucking-

"Are you... hitting on me?"

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"I already regret asking this, but..." Forgive me for how horrible this is going to be, but I'm fairly certain that I read the situation correctly. And, I wasn't happy about it. The happy meals connection just makes it all that much creepier and dirty. "Are you trying to barter with me? Are you soliciting me for chicken nuggets in exchange for... sex?"

"No one said anything about chicken nuggets or sex, darling. But, would that be so bad?"

"Yes, it would. Also, illegal." I look at the older woman who has been content to remain perfectly silent throughout this exchange. "Are you proud of yourself? This is your daughter, right? The direct product of your upbringing and guidance? I have that right, don't I?" She nods and looks down the sidewalk. I also look around. I'm surprised we haven't acquired a crowd. Everyone is a little too busy in Charleston to give a damn, especially in this neighborhood. I should have expected it. I was completely unprepared for this.

"So, what do you say?"

"I say no. I say that if you were legitimately hungry and in need, that I would gladly go to the grocer right now and buy you a loaf of bread and a pack of bologna. I would also not expect sex in return. Actually, I'd do it and expect no sex in return. None. Just the groceries. For free. For you. For nothing."

"What would we do with that?"

"Feed yourselves for a week and for a fraction of the cost of a fucking happy meal."

"We just want some food, honey. We're hungry."

"No, you're really not. Get your skank asses to a shelter. Alright? Stop hassling people. I know the holiday season is upon us and that means it's open season for you people to prey on the heartstrings of the sensitive and meek, but you've got the wrong guy. You have no idea."

"You're a heartless, soulless, evil sonuvabitch."

"Whoa, there. You need to back that up. I'm not the one whoring myself for fast food."

"Well... if you weren't an evil Yankee bastard, you'd help us out."

"Is it that obvious? It's because I enunciate, isn't it? Possibly also the vocabulary, I imagine. Wait. That's ridiculous. That was arrogant and condescending, even for me."

"It's ok. We're know we're not that smart, but we're still people. Poor, hungry people."

"Yes, I agree with all of that. I just don't think I should generalize an entire population based on a small, select, unfortunate portion of it. I happen to love West Virginia." Those are smiles. I have neutralized the debate. Before I lose them again, I need to make my position clear. "Listen, I'd love to help you out. I would. But, I'm simply not going to. I still could, even considering everything that's just happened, but I won't. Maybe I should, but I'm not a perfect, selfless person. I'm basically good, most of the time. I have a heart. I care. But, I'm a man of principle before any of that other shit. I do believe in charity, but on my terms and without the panhandling and harassment. As I said, I'd gladly help you out if I felt you were truly in need. But, I don't think you are. I mean, you're in want maybe, but you're not in need. There's a very significant difference."

"What does that mean?"

"Maybe this will help: beggars can't be choosers and if wishes were horses, beggars would ride." They're doing that confused, distant, glass eye thing again. I expected that. "As my grandmother would say: Wish in one hand, shit in the other - see which one fills up first."

"You're the devil!"

"Could be. Or it could also be that I don't take too kindly to bitches asking me for money as I'm coming out of the unemployment office."

Self-sabotage and other ways to spend a Sunday afternoon.

I lost my mind today. I went completely psychotic for about an hour.

Not because I missed the late registration dates for my ACT test date of choice, either. I found that out later, but I had used my surplus of rage by then and this disappoint barely phased me. Whatever. So, I'm not going to register for a test date until I know with some amount of certainty what exactly I'll be doing x months from now or even what state I might possibly be in. Although, my first practice test was extremely reassuring. I have to work on math a little. English, reading, and science were flawless. I'm not surprised. I was a little surprised with the math. It's above the standard, but when has that ever been good enough for anything? Never. So, yes. I will be improving that score in the meantime. So, it wasn't that.

No. I thought I lost my wallet.

I decided to go out somewhere. I think I was hungry. I got dressed and I was ready to leave the apartment, but then I was having a wardrobe issue. The jeans... I have not warn them in about a year. Hated them then, still hate them now. So, I took them off, folded them up, and put them in the bag I had already started for my next Goodwill donation.

I'm all about the Goodwill donations right now. I can't stop giving all my shit to Goodwill. I just can't. It's a good thing. They can sell it to fund some great counseling programs and charities while truly unfortunate people can buy my used (or more accurately in most cases, my never used) goods at a fraction of what I originally paid for them and I can clear all the clutter out of my residence and simply be able to move through rooms without calling on my sweet parkour skills to navigate the towering piles of bullshit that once dominated the terrain.

Anyway, I didn't really feel like getting dressed again so I went back to whatever I was doing. Then, I realized how hungry I was. I could either stay half-dressed and make something to eat for myself or I could get dressed again and get some drive-thru action going. I decided I would rather not be bothered with making food, so I got dressed again and went to leave but I could not find my wallet.

I then went completely and totally insane.

I tore my apartment apart. Not really, but kinda. I was neat about it even though I was completely frantic. I didn't want to have to clean the place up again on top of having to find my misplaced wallet. I was at least that sane. I looked everywhere. I even tried to remember all the articles of pocketed clothing and shoulder bags I had employed over the previous few days. I looked in every room of my apartment. I looked anywhere I could. I even checked inside the refrigerator and both garbage cans. (Do not ask me to justify those decisions. I did it. It happened.) I searched my Jeep twice.

This went on for about an hour. Thirty minutes into it, I started to panic that I might have dropped it somewhere. I kicked around the leaves outside hoping I had simply dropped it while walking from the Jeep to my front door. I had been struggling to maintain control of my cargo the night before, so it seemed reasonable. I did not want to admit the possibility of having left it at one of the many (possibly eight) different places I had been the previous evening. I had gone to the mall. Enough said.

On yet another side note, I didn't allow my natural impulses to overwhelm me like they typically do any time I happen to allow myself the mistake of a trip to the mall. No, I was very savvy about it. I bought what I needed and I left. What I needed was an ACT prep book and the supplementary flash cards. I also needed gas and beverages, so I made a few more stops. But, I was very, very careful not to spend too much money at the mall. I'm a little proud of myself for that. That's quite an accomplishment for me. Seriously.

Just I had completely given up the search and sat down at my desk to access all of my online accounts to cancel everything I could, I had a revelation. Obviously, the first place I should have logically looked for my wallet is the same place I eventually found it. But, I had completely forgotten about even having tried on those first pair of horrible jeans. Turns out I had left my wallet inside them and nearly donated it to Goodwill with them. Can you imagine? I don't want to, but I can.

Worst of all, I have no motivation to actually follow through with my original intentions of going out for something to eat and I still refuse to make anything myself, so...

I'm so hungry and frustrated. I'm a ridiculous person.

Start having a great life... Immediately!

I've been thoroughly enjoying not working so far. Seriously. It's awesome.

I spent Thanksgiving with some former co-workers. That was really good for me. I didn't want to go because of the questions I might have to answer about my sudden dismissal and I also didn't want to bring everyone down on the holiday. But, it wasn't a big deal. I made it clear that I wasn't going to talk about it and that was good enough. They did ask me what the hell I'm going to do now.

I don't fucking know and that's the truth.

Until I figure out something, I'm going to take the ACT next month and send the scores to a number of educational institutions. I'll be forwarding the results to campuses in West Virginia, Ohio, and South Dakota. South Dakota? Yes, my mother lives there. I'm not deciding anything until I know what my actual options are. I do want to go to school and I'm about done with customer service and/or management. I may have to continue to do either/both until I get a degree, but at least I'll have a very defined goal of getting away from it as soon as I possibly can. I even know my major and possible minors, but that will just have to be a surprise.

You'll laugh. Trust me. It's insane, especially for me. But, it's what I want and it's something I'd like to pursue. I continue to surprise myself.

I've been actively reducing the bulk of my possessions in case I do have to move - which seems incredibly likely in the event I am unsuccessful at finding reasonable work here. I have bills to pay, you know? If I don't have to move, at least the apartment will be far less cluttered. I don't want to end up on Hoarders, although I hear it's a fascinating program. Anyway, I may have to make yet another trip to Goodwill to unload stuff that I've never used and most likely never will.

I'm also going to Charleston on Monday to apply for unemployment. That will ease alot of the financial stress of my situation while I try to find a more permanent solution. I'm currently browsing job ads in three states and have submitted e-mails of intent and interest to a few promising prospects. There are even a few offering a competitive salary to my former one. Very exciting. I paid the rent with my most recent (final is still pending) paycheck, so I'm good until the new year. That gives me a month to figure things out and try to get back on track before I have to seriously consider my alternative options. We shall see.

I haven't sold anything off yet. I don't think it'll come to it, but if I need to liquidate my possessions... The first item to go will be my television. Then the exercise bike and/or weight bench. Then the Wii. Then multimedia. Then... I'm keeping the computer. I don't care. I'll sell my Jeep and buy a bicycle before I give up my computer. It's that simple. I'll just have to limit my job search to this town proper or possibly move into the city and rely on public transportation. There are alot of apartments that are much cheaper but are probably in terrible neighborhoods... I don't even want to think about it. That's last resort. I'd move home before I considered that a viable option. No way.

I need to send out my Christmas gift boxes when I get my final paycheck. I have them basically completed. I need to fill them with bubble wrap and get them addressed and shipped off. It's actually a really good thing that I bought everything weeks ago before this happened or it'd be another low budget, seriously crappy holiday.

Anyway, I'm not freaking out yet. I have confidence that I'll figure this out and it won't even be the big deal it could have been. I'm not giving up and I'm fairly optimistic about everything. Weird, but true.

To swim you have to swallow.

I'm not doing NaNoWriMo. Obviously. I stopped writing after the first week. I had serious shit going on - which is still actually going on and probably will continue to go on indefinitely, so whatev. Fuck it. I don't even care. It's been a shit year anyway and I should have simply expected it to not go quietly into that good night. But... seriously? I'm not in the mood. I'm really not. I'm not in the mood to write. I'm not in the mood to talk. I'm not in the mood to be around anyone at all ever. I'm not in the mood for the holiday season which is going to just drag on and on and on. I'll be able to fully appreciate how slowly time is progressing since I won't be distracted by things like work.

Yeah, I'm unemployed as of an hour and a half ago.

I knew it was coming. It's not a surprise. I don't feel... I just don't feel. I'm completely empty and weightless. I'm also completely sleep-deprived and insane because I've been stressing about this for months. Just when I start to relax - Surprise! My life is even more fucked up than previously assumed possible.

Anyway, I'm not going to talk about it to any degree ever. Don't ask. Just leave it the fuck alone. It's not important and even less interesting, to be honest.

I seriously doubt I'm staying in West Virginia. What the hell for? Seriously. The only people I even know in this state are people from work - ex-work, whatev - so, no. I don't want to bring them down and just be this awkward presence.

I was invited to a Thanksgiving party type thing tomorrow. I'm not going. Some of them - if not all - will know by then. And they'll have questions I don't want to answer and can just as easily avoid by simply not being there. Besides, it'll totally ruin everything. Me being there and this new situation... I'm just not going. I should say goodbye or something and salvage some kind of holiday with these people before I never see them again, but...

It's not like I was ever any good at sticking around. It's not like I've ever made much of an effort to say goodbye. I just disappear and it's like I never was. Magic. Terrible, fucked up magic.

So, anyway. No novel and I'm not even disappointed. I have bigger things to worry about and it's not even on my radar of things I could give a shit about if I even wanted to. I just thought I should update you on why my word count hasn't moved in weeks and why I haven't been posting either.

I've been in limbo for the better part of the month. It's a very uncomfortable and stressful place to be. Now, I feel weightless and free. I don't know why. I suppose it's because I can do practically anything at all now. I can make any number of decisions or mistakes regarding where my life is going from here, but I won't have to account for a career in any plans I make for the immediate future.

That's not a good or bad thing, it's just... It just is, I guess.

1,667 words/day.

You may have noticed I haven't posted in awhile. Trust me, I've had a few things to post about:

New tenants stealing my cable/internet.
Halloween. (with photo, maybe)
My contribution to Goodwill.

But I'm probably not going to do any more posts until December, and by then I'll have several more things to post about in addition to those pending topics. If I ever leave my apartment, which I probably won't except for work. So, see you in December.

December?

Yes, December.

But, why?

Well, you may or may not have noticed a new box to the right at the top of my menu bar. This little icon displays my current word count for NaNoWriMo. Follow that link to learn about the program or sign up for it yourself. We can be WriMates. Basically, I'm writing a 50,000 word novel. I have only the thirty days of November in which to write at least 50,000 words and complete the novel. At the time of this post, I'm at 10,333 on November 5. I have 25 days left in which to write the additional 39,667 words.

Exciting, right?

Your eyes show as many deep and full shades of blue...

...as a healing bruise upon an injured forelimb.

"Your hair looks nice."
"Thanks. It's actually my hat hair. I took off my hat and... yeah."
"Really? It looks really good like that. It looks styled."
"I know. That's why I just went with it. Goodnight, then."
"Goodnight."

I smile but this moment secretly destroyed me. For thirty seconds (and then the thirty minutes it takes to drive home), there's nothing else to think about and now I have a headache. Listening to the Foo Fighters doesn't help. If you're ever curious as to what it might be like to be bi-polar, listen to an entire Foo Fighters album. Seriously. It also doesn't help that I've been listening to that for two weeks now.

I need an intervention, but not for that.

You really shouldn't compliment me. It confuses me - every time. It's not that I automatically over react and assume anyone who is even slightly nice to me is deeply attracted or interested in me. No. It's also not that I doubt the integrity of these comments. Just because I have no self-image doesn't mean I don't have self-esteem. I appreciate my abilities and accomplishments; I just don't connect them back to their origin very well. I've just never been able to take a compliment. I have no idea what to do with them. I just feel even more awkward than usual. These moments usually provide me with amusing anecdotes and I have one in particular to share with you now.

During my high school production of "Come Blow Your Horn", a comedy in three acts by Neil Simon, I was having a ton of make-up applied by the director/theatre teacher. She was equally impressed, envious, and annoyed because of my lack of facial wrinkles. I was playing Mr. Baker, which was consistent with the fact that I was the only thespian who could successfully grow facial hair and was therefore typecast in every production as the father figure, but my lack of facial wrinkles was making the director a little irritated. Not to mention that all those cosmetics was making me feel less like Father Baker and more like a kabuki fatality. She did compliment me at one point and I explained my problem with never knowing what to do with compliments that I received. She immediately stopped painting stress lines across my forehead and chuckled.

"Well, then you might appreciate that I had a similar problem once. I was dating this guy. It was still during the whole interview/show and tell/whatever... You know, it was maybe date three. Very early in the relationship, but it was getting to that point where... I can't even believe I'm telling you this. Just bare with me, the punchline is worth it. Everything seemed to be going well. It really was. I mean, this guy was a masseur. Very exciting potential. Which leads us to the foot rub he offered me. Amazing. Absolutely to die for. Well, he finishes with my left foot and moves on to my right. We're making eye contact. I am in absolute heaven from those magic fingers. This is a moment. The whole night I've been looking for some sign as to how to proceed. Do I keep seeing this guy or do I move on. There hasn't been this magically connection or chemistry, so I'm thinking about calling it all off and then this happens. This moment comes and everything changes. I'm feeling something finally. And he says, "I bet you have a glorious colon." Moment, evening, relationship - all dead. Gone. Poof. I tell him that I'm not sure how to respond to that, which I'm still not. He tells me that it's a compliment and then he explains something about physiology and massage and I don't know. I pretended to understand the logic. But, I never saw or spoke to him again and I called it an early night. So... I understand not knowing what do with compliments."

I thought about that story all night while I was on stage. I was definitely in character - I was confused, disgusted, alienated. It was a brilliant performance. I recited that anecdote for the tribute video for the director/teacher at the end of the year. No one else really got it, but she laughed hysterically and so did I. People might have thought we were freaks, but we knew there were worse things to be.

Anyway... I think it's been longer than I imagined since someone genuinely complimented me. Or surprised me with a compliment out of seemingly no where. Or maybe my hair just looked amazing and I appreciate that I wasn't the only person obsessed with how naturally it could look that way.

I may never know what exactly to make of compliments or what to do with the information, but I'm getting better at faking it.

Your cleverness ferments meat without the need of oxygen.

Brother from another mother? Hmmm.

I just figured it out. The majority of the random people I run into out in public here in West Virginia think I'm this guy. I know what you're thinking: But J, he has decidedly less blood on his face than you usually do. I know. I'm a very intense person and it's hard for other people to reach that level of bloodlust and insanity. But he's trying. That's something, right? Anyway... Meet Owen Schmitt. Here he is with his face covered in his own blood as he prepares to take the field for the Seattle Seahawks. Now, you're really confused. Why in the hell would anyone in West Virginia confuse me with a professional football player for Seattle? Well, he wasn't always a professional football player and he's no longer with Seattle. Now he's in Philadelphia. Even more confused? I know. The world is crazy and random and usually doesn't make any sense. But this does. Or at least, it will once I explain it to you. Just enjoy this clueless moment. Still nothing? What if he catches another football? Does that help? You know I'm enjoying this. In fact, I'm not sure I want to complete this post. I'm having too much fun. Secrets are delicious. Football is also delicious. This is my current favorite post of all time. Love it. So, I guess you're more than ready to know the whole truth now. Oh, the suspense! This is the image I found while running a Google search for "West Virginia crazy". The original plan was to write a post about how I'm adapting to the culture and community of West Virginia and all the things that make it "Wild and Wonderful". When I saw this photo, I said "Look at that crazy fucker. He's got my hair. And my mouth. Oh. I get it now." Then I sent the googlebots after Schmitt. Neither disappointed. Scmitt was a walk-on at WVU. (Gasp! What?) That's right. He played college football in Morgantown and West Virginia fell in love with him. And why not? Look at that mug. Check out his wiki. Schmitt came to West Virginia with nothing but a dream and a mohawk, much like me, and he left with an enormous fan base and a highly lucrative career, much like me (I hope.). Schmitt left West Virginia to play for the NFL, which explains why no one has seen him around lately. But he was a very, very big deal and still is after playing fiercely for the Mountaineers. When you account for the physical similarities between us and the coincidental fact that I now reside in a state that completely adores the guy, it's not a huge leap for most people to assume we are in fact the same person - especially when I just show up at random around the area highly populated by his loyal and loving fan club. So, that explains part of it, but it leaves one unanswered question: Is Owen Schmitt responsible for people continuously soliciting me for illegal substances? I don't think so. I believe that's someone else entirely and I doubt I'll ever know anything more about that person. I base this theory of yet another alternate copy of myself from the press interviews I've been watching and the fan testimonials. Schmitt seems like a really decent guy - if not somewhat crazy. But when you've got that much testosterone flooding your veins, there's very little chance of being anything remotely close to sane. He seems like a genuinely appreciative and respectful guy. Now, I'm not saying that this means he's incapable of committing crimes such as possession, intent to sell, or even trafficking, but there are no records of him ever being arrested or suspected of any of these things. (He did have a DUI charge which was reduced to reckless driving and resulted in community service, but he apologized for that and that only proves that living in Seattle makes people more prone to alcoholism and poor decision making. Hi, K. That one's for you. LoL.) Anyway, I don't believe that he is responsible for those instances of mistaken identity. Even if that is the case, I'd prefer to think better of both of us. I do, however, believe he is the reason why random strangers (especially males between the ages of 25-50 and females between the ages of 25-30) are so helpful and flirtatious (respectfully, but not always). No, being mistaken for Schmitt is always a good thing for me - regardless of whether I'm interested or appreciative of that specific kind of sudden attention. It feels good, even if it's not actually about me or for me. In a way, it kind of is because I'm the physical body present and the object of that affection/attention. But it's really not. I'm not crazy in that way. Understanding the actual reason for the case of mistaken identity and being aware of the intended target of it helps me make more sense of what had previously been fascinating in that "why the hell does this keep happening" sort of way. Anyway, it's been fun and now it'll be more fun since I've landed myself on the inside of this joke. I'm sure at least some of you are wondering how he got all that blood on his face in the first photo of this post. Let me solve that mystery with a term that usually ends with most people being psychologically evaluated and possibly committed: self-inflicted injury. Yep. It could just as easily have occurred as the result of a tackle or other mishap during the course of a professional football game, but it didn't. It happened during the player introductions and the game hadn't even started yet before Schmitt received several stitches after falling victim to his own savage intensity and the protective gear meant to prevent exactly that sort of thing. See. We're not so different, afterall. We're equally intense and reckless with ourselves. However, if that photo montage was not graphic enough for you, I found a video of it on YouTube. Enjoy. There are several other YouTube videos from games, interviews, and even several fan tributes. The best thing to come from this sudden discovery? I have finally figured out my Halloween costume for this year. Even better, mine comes with a demotivational poster. Can't wait. This will be the best year ever. Hurray for Owen Schmitt! Photobucket banned the poster. Trust me, it's not a huge loss for anyone. I'll post Halloween pics as soon as I get some.

"Welfare" vs. "Well-fair"

Possibly one of the most horrifying typos I've ever made. (If you missed it, good for you. It's been corrected. Don't worry about it.) This blunder made even more laughable simply for the fact that "well-fair" isn't a word even with the hyphen. 1 + 1 = 0? In this case, yes. Absolutely. I'm all about the sentence fragment - random strings of incomplete thought thrown at the reader much in the same fashion as I violently purge my consciousness through my typing fingertips and out into the world.

I might have ADHD. Perhaps I need to be medicated. Pretty sure that's a topic for a different post. Ignore this section completely. Thanks.

So, yes. I'm all about the sentence fragment. I'm not so much into word fragments or whatever you get when you string two real words together with a hyphen to phonetically spell the word you actually wanted to use but didn't. You know, there should be a word for that. Oh, wait. There is.

Dumb-ass.

It's true. We are our own harshest critics. How about that?

(For those of you hoping this post might offer up my personal opinions on our welfare system or possibly a proposal for an alternative government aid program, I apologize. I'll try to take the implications of my title choice more seriously next time.)

You lying bastard.

I know. Trust me, I am thoroughly aware.

In my defense, I had every intention of returning and revisiting the topic of the last post... three weeks ago. My how time flies when you're preoccupied and self-absorbed. Anyway... I shaved my head awhile back. My hair is growing back out now though, so the following picture is no longer current.



Yeah, I'm slacking. Is that surprising to anyone? Honestly? Refer to photo above for cocked eyebrow. Yeah. So, let's get this party started.

As for current events, I've just watched seasons 1 and 2 of Better Off Ted. I can relate so completely with this sitcom and I have one character to thank: Veronica, played by Portia de Rossi (whose legal name is now Portia Lee James DeGeneres following her 2008 marriage to Ellen DeGeneres) as pictured at left, reminds me so thoroughly of someone (I'll never say who.) it makes watching the show a real delight. Also, it makes work alot more entertaining when I can superimpose de Rossi over her real-world counterpart. Also, the show is hilarious on it's own merit. I enjoy the ambiguity of the characters' moral compasses... or lack thereof. Working for a corporation definitely tests your integrity on a semi-regular basis.

It should be noted that I do not work for an inherently evil corporation. My corporate structure is benign or Paula Abdul (who will not be pictured on this blog, ever) at best. But, having worked for corrupt persons/business entities in the past, I appreciate the situational comedy of merely trying to survive in that atmosphere between paychecks - assuming the checks are real, which often in those situations they're not. So, whether or not you can fully relate, I still recommend it to anyone with an active subscription of Netflix. Portia de Rossi! Ok, I'm done obsessing.

While visiting last week, my sister got me hooked on Sons of Anarchy. My DVR is now programmed to record any time it airs. Hurray for Tuesdays and something other than Glee to watch, which I also love but not so much for the singing as the drama and character interaction. Actually, I could probably do without almost all of the singing, especially the solos by Lea Michele as Rachel Berry. Anyway, back to SOA which I will definitely be watching tonight after a quick trip to the grocer and possibly an appliance store to look at the pricing of clothes driers and weep.

I try to convince myself that air drying clothes in my apartment is not only earth conscience and energy efficient but it's also somehow glamorous and reminiscent of a canal in Venice. That works for about thirty seconds and then I return to how aggravating and unsightly the situation actually is and I don't care how much money I'm theoretically saving by waiting two days for my clothes to dry. And the stiffness when it does... I need fabric softener to live, damn it. I know where most of my next bonus is going. In the meantime, I need to find a laundromat because right now every piece of my wardrobe can be combined into a full-body, armor-plated body shield. I like to be comfortable, which is only possible when I'm not wearing clothes now. The "No Pants!" Revolution is alive and well in Apartment H.

Speaking of which, everyone in my building was evicted. Everyone. I can park where ever the hell I want and it's glorious. Hurray for being the only tenant able to pay his rent on time. YES! I also paid my utilities. Love me some online banking.

There's a surprise on the immediate horizon for my family. I'm not saying anything else. We'll just wait for Christmas and no one but my sister and I will have to pretend to be shocked by the sudden revelation. Exciting. Can't wait. I'm sending gift baskets in my absence this year. Coffee themed, I think. I want everyone to be hyper on top of being crazy, abrasive, and openly hostile. Good luck, Ohio. You'll need it.

I've been plagued with alot of uncertainty lately. Most of that uncertainty involves the immediate future of my supposed career. The time to decide the next step is here and I'm still not convinced I want to advance any further up the ladder that I've been passive-aggressively and occasionally agressive-aggressively climbing. Sure, I would love more money and theoretically more control. However, I'm not sure I want to be the person I would inevitably become in that alternate reality. I think I'm fairer than most when it comes to the welfare and concerns of my employees, but I also realize that there are several times when the only thing stopping me from killing every one of them is not having anyone left to clean up the mess I'd make by doing so.

And it would be messy. You have no idea.

Besides that lingering homicidal rage, I'm not sure I'm ready to be the ultimate authority of anything. It's alot less exhausting to have a higher power to answer to and for in work situations. I'm only somewhat ambitious. There are limits to it, very real and quickly approaching limits. I would not, however, be opposed to moving again - anywhere. Location no longer matters to me, if it ever did. I'm comfortable in my current position and am working daily to improve my efficiency and competency. I would like additional real world experience and some more diversity in my management setting. More diversity as in: new people, new places, new anything and everything. Change and a lot of it. Constant and forever.


Anyway, it's something for me to think about and obsess over in the meantime while the higher powers decide what to do with me.

[Survival value] < 0

Hold that thought.

[I apologize to anyone who has actually already read this entry. In my very typically vague fashion, I've tried to work out my own bullshit without actually directly establishing who/what said bullshit is. Then, some time later - in this case, three hours - I come to my freaking senses and completely rewrite the entire entry. Only this time, I haven't gotten that far yet. I will. In just a moment.]

So, hold that thought.

I'll say this much, the title should now read:
[Survival value] ≥ 0

That's a drastic improvement for those less savvy in the mathematics department.

I'm not that guy. I'm really not.

"Hey, man."
"Hey... you. Person." I can't control that one of my eyebrows is cocked. There are so many things wrong with this situation that I don't even know where to begin. I'm antisocial. I'm on break. I'm an anonymous visitor in this strange, wild, and wonderful state. I'd rather not be bothered with whatever this is going to be. I don't know this guy. He doesn't know me. He's looking at me like he does, though, and something else... oh, shit, he's happy to see me. This can't be a good thing. So much for enjoying my twenty minutes of quiet sanity recovery.
"So... J?"
"You can read. Very good."
"How have you been, man. I haven't seen you in like-"
"Ever?"
"It's been a minute, yeah."
"Wow. What do you want?"
"Do you remember me?"
"Nope."
"What? Stop playin'."
"Done."
"So... I was wondering... if you, uh..."
There's no way I'm helping him finish that sentence. Besides, I honestly don't know the fuck he wants or why he thinks he knows me or how I should know him or why the hell this stupid bullshit has to keep happening to me especially when I go out of my way to try to make sure to avoid ridiculous situations and encounters like this one. Damn.
"You still selling tabs, man? Can I get some from you?"
What the fuck?
"What the fuck?"
"Aren't you the guy?"
"No. I'm definitely not the guy."
"Are you sure, man? I swear you are."
"You better get the fuck out of here and outta my face. What is wrong with you?"
"Oh, hey. It's cool. It's my mistake."
"Hell yeah it is. I'm not a drug dealer."
"But you're just hanging out behind this building."
"I work here, asshole."
"Oh, ok. You just look exactly like my homie J. He used to hook me up all the time."
"I don't need to know any of that. Just get out of here."
"You aren't gonna report me, are you?"
"Report you to who? The dumbass police? They already know, trust me. Just... leave."

Ever since losing nearly fifty pounds, I've had moments like this. Most of them have been more tolerable but equally disorienting. Who ever my double is, he's a douchebag and I've inherited all the loose ends from his interrupted life. My guess: he's doing time somewhere. Lucky him.

You need to leave. Now.

I'm not a violent person. I'm also not a terribly brave or heroic person. If put in the position, I'd do every thing I could to avoid a serious confrontation or physical altercation.

That said, I've head butted mother fuckers for simply saying the wrong thing to me. I've also hurdled lunch tables and beat people senseless with their food trays.

I'm not proud of it, but it happens sometimes. My emotions occasionally and simply get the better of me. I can't say I'm ashamed, either. I have a very distinct and limited threshold for bullshit. Once you cross that line with me, there's no stopping me. Don't get me wrong - my tolerance level is insane. I have the patience of a Buddhist monk, except when I don't. It's those times that I'm completely reckless and dangerous.

I have alot of anger inside me - more than I'll ever be able to civilly express. I store that rage and use it to fuel my epic meltdowns. It's very power stuff. I may never be able to fully deplete my stockpile of mind-numbing devastation, which means I'll probably out live you all - especially if you piss me off. I could live for a century off the adrenaline from just one of these momentary lapses of self-control.

"Please, hit me. Lay a hand on me. Give me permission to return the favor. Please."

I should not be thinking those things. I should not be standing toe to toe with a 400+ pound man. I should be slightly more concerned about my personal well being and safety.

But, he shouldn't have made her cry. That sonuvabitch shouldn't have done that.

She's just barely 17. She's a girl. She might weigh 80 pounds soaking wet and holding my television. She's bawling her damned eyes out and shaking in such terror that she can't even wipe the snot from her nose.

There's a release valve in my heart and when I see that bullshit, it opens and every precious, horrible thing that I've been shoving in there and keeping locked away comes flying out. Suddenly, I'm bulletproof and insane. I can feel the blood in my veins begin to boil and every one of my muscles tighten. I hear myself saying things I'd expect to hear in a movie written by Stallone. I won't tell you the things I'm thinking about doing in that moment. I will never, never tell you that. You'd vomit. I have a miraculous imagination.

God help me if I ever have children of my own. God help the world, too.

On a normal day, there's no way I could come close to hurting this guy. But today, he's going to the fucking hospital and I might just carry him there myself.

Fortunately for everyone, the police in this area have excellent response time.

My continued life as a stray dog.

I'm on vacation right now. Very big deal. I'm thoroughly enjoying time away from work. I got an update yesterday. Disaster, as usual. Drama. Not looking forward to walking back into that mess. Nope, not at all. Oh well. I have until Friday to enjoy myself and the quiet peace of my tiny, shitty apartment.

Although, it's getting less shitty every day. Seriously. I've actually been doing alot of improvement stuff during my holiday from working. Don't be too shocked, but I bought myself a power drill. Holy crap. It's the best thing ever.

Right, I'm not moving yet. I've done so much (plastering, shelve installing, furniture acquiring, detail cleaning) to make this place exponentially more livable so the thought of starting over and possibly having to do the same at an alternate sight is just more than I care to consider at the moment. There's going to be enough on my plate here shortly when I start back at work. Bleck. There's another thing I'd rather not consider.

Back to my power tool: I've rehung shelves with the aid of my new stud finder, drill bits, and screw driver attachments. I also did alot of plastering. Apparently the previous tenant had a hormonal imbalance and serious rage control problems. I'm not saying that I don't, but at least I don't pick fights with my freaking walls. OH! I reattached the bathroom sink to the wall. That sink hasn't been attached to the wall by anything but the plumbing beneath it for over a year now. Probably unsafe, but I lacked the proper toolage or motivation to do anything about it until now. Ok, correction: I attempted to use gorilla glue a few months ago, but was sadly unsuccessful. I then attempted to nail the cabinet back into place but could only find drywall and no studs to drive them into. Yeah, I'm getting to be fairly decent at this home maintenance/improvement thing. Shocking, I know. I'm fairly confident that all of my credentials and awards will stay on the walls now that there is more than a mere thumbtack to support them. Love this drill. Love it.

Nic wants to shoot a video today (being 0430) and I'm totally down. I have no clue what insane vision he's working with, but I do need to leave my apartment today. It's been a couple days and my skin is starting to itch. I haven't been creative in practically forever. I won't get into specifics, but censorship has never been pretty and I've seen more than I care to of it. We don't discuss the incident or even our creative partnership anymore. At least, we hadn't. It'll be nice to be out in the field doing... whatever, I don't even care. It'll be good. Even if no one but us ever sees the finished product. I'm excited.

No more pain killers. Yay. I think I've been off them for a couple days. It is so nice to be normal again. I can think clearly. I'm not prone to passing the fuck out and sleeping all day. No more nausea. It's lovely, really. I really enjoy the stability of my life now that I'm not taking a daily dose of anything. It's nice to be able to eat solid foods again as well. There is only so much soup and pasta that one man can eat. I had pizza yesterday. Wow. Delicious.

Called home today (yesterday, actually). That was... what it was. Anyway, I got the information I needed out of my aunt and did my best to awkwardly string together a conversation with my young, timid cousin. I didn't have alot to work with and I did my best. Grandpa said my name several times while grandma held the phone to his head. I guess that's alot more than he's usually able to do these days. I can't deal with it. I just can't. I wish I was numb to it like I am to practically everything else, but I'm not and I hate it. We didn't have much of a relationship, but no one - fuck. I don't know. I can't even finish that sentence. What? No one deserves that? Seriously? That's unnecessary and cliche and everything I hate about assholes who try to say the right thing to console people beyond consoling. Shut the fuck up and leave it alone. It's bullshit. I fucking hate it and it's bullshit. Don't want to talk about this anymore, so moving on...

I spoke to my other aunt for a little. I did not get the information I needed from her because she was about to donate blood and we spent all of our time talking about things that actually matter. I try to compare the reality and setting of that conversation to the other one and my brain shatters. I enjoy conversations where I don't have to lie the entire time to keep the other party from using the information I share with them against me or someone I love. Wow. That's screwed up. Doesn't make it any less true. I lied alot during the other conversation. Basically, I just listen to what I'm going to say and then say the exact opposite. Being vague is safe, too. I don't know. Maybe. Commit to nothing. Admit nothing. Everything is a shade of ambiguous gray. That's how it is with certain members of my family. It's refreshing when that isn't the case. Rare, but lovely. I'll call her back tomorrow. Her postcard will be late since I've misplaced the address. The other people will be getting their postcard first and no call back.

Yeah, that's how much time I have on my hands right now. I'm doing correspondence with people I've recently spoken to on the phone. But, I have a stack of postcards from my trip to Hershey and nothing else to do with them. Kind of ridiculous, but whatever.

I also got ahold of my elusive mother via Facebook. She no longer has the cellphone I've been calling for days now. I now have her landline, but she doesn't have caller ID or voicemail or even an archaic answering machine. What century is this? Anyway, we talked about my hooligan brother and her life as a recently-single-but-not-yet-divorced-and-actively-dating woman. That's alot to deal with, so I didn't mention why I had been trying to contact her. I'm just going to mail the letter and she can read it a week from now and deal with it. She's also getting a postcard because I'm nothing if not thorough and consistent.

Speaking of my hooligan brother, someone needs to kick that kid's ass and it'll probably end up having to be me.

In other news... my step brother and sister from my father's marriage have recently included me in their social networks. Interesting. It's only a matter of time now. There is going to be a reckoning. If I do make a trip back up to Ohio, I'm probably going to have to confront my father and his bitch wife in person. It's just not the same in cyberspace. They ought to leave well enough alone and sleeping dogs lie. I'm pretty sure they won't, though. There is no hole in my heart from the absence of them in my life. In fact, my life is much better and less complicated now that I've accepted how meaningless and abrasive my presence in theirs is and always has been. I have moved on and away. There's nothing left to say. Well, there is one thing and I don't give a good god damn what either of them thinks of it or me. I am a little curious how they'd react. Definitely worth the trouble to find out and say goodbye.

Wow. If it isn't obvious, don't ever bring that topic up in a conversation with me if you hope to continue it or ever have another one with me again. Just don't.

I have so much to do today, it's exhausting to even think about it. I made three lists to help me accomplish at least 85% of my goals. I owe myself that much since I slept for the first day and a half of my vacation. It's weird not knowing what day it is. It's weirder not caring what day it is. I don't really want to go back to work on Friday. I know I have to, but... do I? Really? I don't think I really do. I'm trying to convince myself that I have an obligation (several financial obligations, actually) and I'm only half-convincing myself. Bleck. I have another year of guaranteed bonuses which I have already made very exact plans for spending/allocating. My anniversary is in a few days. I'll be starting year 5 of the job that was never meant to become a career. It's absurd how things happen independently of your expectations or desires. Fate is not without a sense of humor and a dark one at that. Anyway, this means more vacation time for me. Assuming that I'll have the opportunity to use it after this latest development. If I could, I'd use it right now. I wonder how I'd feel after a month away from work. I can't even imagine. I'd love to find out, though. I really, really would.

I'm thinking that if the yellow house is still owned by my family after another year, I'm going move back home and take it easy. Maybe focus on writing more exclusively. Maybe I'll just go nomad and wander. That sounds about as appealing as it does horrifying. I think that's why it's so enticing. Then, there's always Alaska. I'd really like to go back - maybe not forever, but for a little while.

Dreams are strange. But, in order to have them, you need to sleep once in awhile. So... think I will. Night then.

Potassium Benzoate...

...to protect the taste. Yeah, about that... I disagree.

I'm incredibly tired but I should really post something less disturbing and graphic.

I got new boots. They are beyond awesome. They make me a few inches taller (which makes me that much more intimidating in person) and they make the most delightfully loud thuds as I walk across pavement (just imagine being very obviously followed by someone down a dark alley and then amplify that sensation). Yes, I love these boots more than is practical or appropriate. I wore them today and I walked every where very slowly - making gradual, solid foot steps and letting the sound echo out around me with each new careful stomp.

Wow. It's really the little things. Seriously.

My boss is on a cruise ship right now and I'm working seven days straight (minus today, thankfully). Although, I did just enjoy four consecutive days of not having to fully dress or shave. That was lovely. I don't know. It's time for a real vacation. I haven't a clue when to take it or what to do for it.

I am not going home. I know that much. Hell to the no. Not happening.

I am considering moving, however. My lease is up so I'm free to do whatever I wish. My landlord is attempting to sell the property, so now seems like a good time to vacate. I have had quite an interesting stay in Apartment H, but I've been looking around and it seems like there are much nicer accommodations in the same general vicinity that offer cheaper rent and larger living space. Also, since I'm thinking townhouse, I'd really prefer not to live under anyone... possibly ever again. I don't mind loud and/or obnoxious as long as it's not trying to cave the ceiling in on top of me or knocking every single credential or piece of art off my walls. Ok, you know that's a lie - partially. I do mind loud and/or obnoxious, but I can make certain compromises if the source of that noise isn't directly threatening the structural integrity of my home. So, yeah. There's all of that and at the end of it there's me possibly moving in the very near future.

I sense a photo montage coming. That could be alot of fun.

The engine light on my dashboard was lit up for about a week. The first time it remained illuminated after starting my jeep, I almost cried. I seriously can not handle any more vehicular insanity. Let me amend that statement. I seriously can not handle the financial burden of any more vehicular insanity. But, before I completely lost my shit and went on a rampage which would have most likely ended with me breaking several bones or using my immense rage powers to remove my entire steering column and dashboard, I consulted the user's manual. Smart move, I know. Apparently, a steady engine light signifies poor fuel quality which results in equally poor engine performance and reduced fuel economy. Panic - or what the manual referred to as 'concern' - should only be necessary if the light begins to blink - which signifies imminent doom and total engine failure - or if the light remains on and steady for several drives. It remained on for an entire week and panic was beginning to set in. But, again, I refrained. Instead, I purchased and utilized performance enhancing additives and used them with a full tank of premium. My jeep was happy and the light died out. I was delighted. I am slowly mastering the world of automotive maintenance.

I honestly don't know the man I'm becoming. He is calm, objective, and uses simple logic to solve problems he lacks the skill set, education, or specialized training he previously believed necessary to accomplish such acts. He just does things and everything works out for him. It's amazing.

Oh, I'm having what's left of my tooth pulled on Thursday. Very exciting. Should make trying to work that day very, very interesting. Expect that post. It's practically already written itself.

I passed out and slept through my eye appointment. I haven't bothered to attempt to set up another as of yet. Perhaps at the end of this work stretch. Hopefully before next year, at least. That's a feasible goal. Before 2011, I will have a successful eye examination.

I'm tired. I passed out twice while sitting here as I typed this. I should have left in the strings of belligerent text I keyed while dangling half way between reality and fiction. You might have enjoyed some of it. Very colorful keystrokes. Lots of random punctuation. Minimal use of the space bar.

Night then.

My first and only overdose. [Fingers crossed.]

First of all, stop freaking out. That's my job. It's not even that big of a deal. Except... it almost was. It almost was the be all, end all of my whole life.

Damn. Maybe you should freak out a little. I sure did. Before I make a terrible situation worse, let me explain what happened and why. It started last Wednesday...

I woke up in pain - serious pain. The pain was coming from inside my mouth, just like the moans. After some careful investigation in the bathroom mirror, I identified the problem - part of my molar was missing.

"How the fuck does that happen?"

It doesn't really matter. Who cares? Not me. Not really. I did care about the new world of pain I had awoken in that afternoon. I got online and looked up my benefits package. I used the dental provider's website to locate several dentists in my immediate area. They were all closed that day, but the pain had stopped so... I stopped caring and ended the search. The next day toward the end of my shift, the pain came back. I purchased some orajel and that did a decent enough job of dulling the pain. Unfortunately, it was around the same time I had woken up in pain the day previous so again I couldn't contact a local dentist to do anything about it rather than simply survive each passing moment. On Friday, I woke up early to schedule an appointment with anyone who could see me and as immediately as possible. July is a bad month for dentistry apparently, because of the dentists that actually work a full week (What sort of professional can just work Mon-Thurs? Are you serious?) most of them were on vacation or planning to go on vacation the next week. I was not waiting two weeks to get this sorted. Thankfully, I managed to find someone who could and would see me on Monday.

I won't talk about the visit, although I will say this: My dentist is a condescending, spiteful cunt - which I expected - but I found her bedside manner amusing, refreshing, and slightly appealing - which I had not expected.

Anyway, she set up an appointment for the operation and prescribed some much needed pain medication. Which was very welcome since even the strongest formula of orajel had ceased to numb the throbbing pain in my jaw and my next appointment wasn't for another week.

So, life is not exactly good, but I'm dealing with it and it's better than it could be - all things considered. Which brings us to Friday night and I'm trying to finish my paperwork so I can leave for the night. That's when I started to feel tired, but it was a different kind of exhaustion than I'm used to encountering with my work schedule and ridiculous lifestyle. It felt like the life was draining out of me. I also felt like I might vomit. I tried, actually, several times. When I left work, all I really wanted was to go home and pass out. But, something about the way I felt scared me senseless. I had this feeling that if I did pass out, I might not wake up. But, first things first, I wanted to go home and feel like I was dying rather than keep doing that at work.

Driving while under the influence of prescription drugs is no joke, especially at 2am and on winding, mountainous back roads. For the entire drive, I had no exact idea as to where the road or even my lane actually was. The lines on the road converged and merged and shattered and... I felt like vomiting again. It was like driving into a laser light show. It was terrible, fascinating, and entirely dangerous. I haven't a clue how I managed to find my way and keep my vehicle on the road in front of me. But, I've said it before: I'm a stubborn bastard and there's just no stopping me from doing what I want. All I wanted was to go home and die in peace as far removed from anyone who might know me as possible. I kept wishing I was anonymous and then I thought of AA and giggled until my stomach protested.

There are a series of hills and winding curves leading up the final hill upon which stands a stop sign before the final descent into the parking lot for my apartment building. At that stop sign, I put my jeep into park, unfastened my seat belt, opened my door, and vomited repeatedly. When I was done, I shut the door, refastened my seat belt, put my jeep back in drive, and drove on. My eye sight immediately improved and I was once again capable of logic and reason and thought.

"Holy shit, I almost had myself an overdose. But, damn it, I'm still alive. I am still alive."

Although, I realize that was not much to be proud of considering the ends not fully justifying the means. That whole ordeal was fairly reckless of me. How simply my life could have ended at any of those moments. If not the pills, then the automobile accident... I could have died twenty different ways that night.

But, I didn't. I have, however, made every effort to keep very careful track of just how many of these pills I take and when. The recommended use is 1 pill every 4-6 hours as needed for pain. My actual use has become 1 pill daily regardless of additional need for pain. I can live with some pain considering the alternative.

In closing, there's nothing like almost dying to make you feel completely alive again.

Context Clues and Shotguns.

[This is a repost since I missed the mini reunion my family had this past holiday... and I'm feeling a little nostalgic. Not too nostalgic, though. I have enough stories for the time being.]

I called home today. Very big deal. I was secretly trying to determine who received the letter about the land tax being past due and how pissed everyone was about it. My cousin answered.

"Hello?"
"Hello."
"Who is this?"
"Who is THIS?!?!?"

Sometimes I have impulse control problems and I can't help myself. I scared her so she gave the phone to someone else. My aunt. A woman so elusive when it comes to telephone conversations with her family members that she will instead opt to have someone else take the call and relay both parts of the conversation to each side of it. But, not for me. I am the exception. There's a reason why but I don't know it.

Maybe I do. I gave her something once. It wasn't something I wanted to part with but at the time she needed it more than I did. It was the night she decided to divorce Soup and I tipped her scales in the right direction. It cost me a little more than I intended but it was worth it. She was terrified of the family judging her for it. She feared total banishment - which, isn't that unlikely considering my uncle. Anyway, I assured her there were worse things to fear. I didn't want to but there wasn't much else for me to work with. It worked. I knew it would. Now, we have this bond. This unspoken understanding. I didn't expect her to remember any of it the next day but she most certainly did. I will never tell her that I share that same secret bond with select other members of the family. It'll be a secret that our secret isn't really one at all. More of an inside joke, really. I laugh about it all the time. Anyway...

"Hello?"
"Hello."
"Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeey. So you are still alive."

I almost hung up the phone. I have two very specific rules regarding telephone conversations.

1. If the first comment upon identifying me as the caller or upon my answering if you happen to be the caller is something to the effect of 'I can't believe you answered.' or 'Oh my god! You're still alive!' or 'Did you answer the phone by accident?' ... my immediate impulse is to remedy the problem promptly and without warning by hanging up and not calling back and not answering when you call back.

2. If at any time I become aware of the fact that you are using the toilet in any capacity, I will end the call and throw my phone at the wall.

But, I was on a mission and could not react in my typical fashion. I let it slide and even produced a semi-realistic chuckle.

"Yeah. It seems that way, doesn't it."
"So... How's it going down there?"
"Great. It's going very well."
"Is your store open yet?"
"Soon. Our grand opening will be the thirtieth."

I chatted with my aunt for a few minutes. It was very informative. I learned things I hadn't expected and those things were actually about my job. My old store, anyway. I later confirmed those things with someone on the inside. The intell was accurate. I was even more amazed. Things do eventually change, apparently. Good for them. Things have been changing for me since last year. I look back and can't believe the progress I've made. Then I look ahead and can't believe how very, very far I have yet to go. It's a little intimidating. My grandmother, who had been at the doctor's for our entire conversation, pulled into the driveway and my aunt went out to meet her. I listened to them talking to each other.

"Perfect timing! Guess who this is!"
(Unfortunately, I couldn't make out my grandmother's responses.)
"Yes."
(No idea.)
"Yes! It is! Really!"
(I can guess, but won't.)
"I know. That's what I said."

"Hello?"
"Hello."
"Gut en Haben! You are alive!"

I consider it, but refrain. I am still on a mission. If she were pissed off at me, she wouldn't have said anything at all, walked around my aunt, gone inside, slammed the door, and locked herself in one of the bathrooms for a few hours. That seemed like all the verification I needed, but... I like to be thorough.

"Yes, people keep telling me that."
"You're on my list, you know."

Oh shit. I'm on her list. That's crazy talk for:

I'm very upset with you and I may or may not explain after much prying why although either way it's much too late for you to do anything about it and all attempts to remedy the situation or apologize will be met with bitter, silent resentment and passive-aggressive mind games which will usually involve notes taped to things or myself because I am nothing if not theatrical and completely over the top.

Oh shit. It is possible, with very careful and seemingly random quips, to locate the source of these disturbances but it's very tricky and I'm a little rusty.

"Am I at the top or the bottom of this list?"
"The bottom and I have my cards on the table."

Hmmmmm. That's crazy talk for ..... I'm not even sure. I know that being on the bottom indicates I am her least favorite person at the moment, but as to the why... There isn't alot of context clues to work with but I take an educated guess at it. I know I haven't done anything upsetting involving furniture lately, so the keyword of that statement must be cards.

"Cards? You have your cards on the table."

She takes a deep breathe when I say the word 'cards'. I knew it and yet still... not helpful. I'm pretty sure she's not referring to Solitaire. However, why the pluralization? I'm missing something.

"Wait a minute. Are you talking about your postcard? Is your postcard on the table? Are you showing it to people?"
"I didn't get my postcard."
"You didn't get your postcard? That's impossible. You responded. I sent it out at the same time as Hedda's and the one for the post office and my mother. The last one I sent was Robin's-"
"Yes. You sent Robinsssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss."

Holy shit, I just solved the puzzle. Give me an S. Cards are on the table. SSSSSSSSSSSSSS.

"You want another postcard."
"Well. It'd be nice. I got the other one a month ago! Something else must have happened since then."
"Not really. I'm really boring now. Nothing interesting ever happens to me anymore."
"You're lying. It's not nice to lie to your grandmother."
"No, it isn't."
"Oh. I wanted to ask you. How'd quitting smoking go?"
"It went great. I'll never smoke again. I can't believe I did it for all those years."
"Well, that's a relief."
"I know. One less thing for you to worry about."

I know. Horrible, right? I stopped feeling bad about lying to that woman a long, long time ago. I've actually gotten pretty good at it. I can even do it in person while looking right into her eyes. I even impress myself. Sometimes, lying is just easier. It's also quieter. I like that. I try to minimize the drama factor whenever I'm around other members of my family. Lying is useful for that sort of success.

"Well. Have you talked to your mother lately?"
"No. Why? Should I?"
"Well. I haven't heard from her. I drove by the house the other day and the grass is mowed. Is somebody living there now?"
"I have no idea. Maybe. I know they were talking about it but I don't know if they ever found anyone."
"Well, I know that one guy next door wanted his mother to live there."
"Yes, that is true and it's probably what happened. I don't have anything to do with that anymore. Also, I don't really care."
"Oh. You don't care about anything."
"I care about things that concern me directly."
"That house concerns you directly."
"No, it doesn't. Besides, I'm the only one with a key to that house now."

Also, Nurse Egg has a key. But that's not information I'm going to share with crazy people over the telephone. Some people might consider withholding information on par with lying, but I'm not one of those people. But if I were, I already explained my comfortable acceptance of that dull gray zone of moral ambiguity through lying.

"So... they couldn't rent it out unless I sent them the keys or they had the locks changed."

Which also hasn't happened because I know someone still visits the house from time to time and has done so recently to escape her crazy family the same way I escaped mine when I moved in. So, that's not what happened. I'm certain of it but do not feel any need to share the reasons why. I don't, however, know who is mowing the grass or why. I have theories but none of them seem very realistic. Then again, knowing my family, anything is possible.

"Well. You should call your mother and find out something."
"Maybe I will."
"And?"
"And send you another postcard."
"I'm so glad you called."
"Me, too."
"You should check in once in awhile, you know? Let us know you're still alive."
"Yes, I know."
"I don't want to have to hear it on the news when one of those crazies down there takes your head off with a shotgun over some silly misunderstanding."

Whoa. Even I am sometimes completely floored by the psychotic and highly specific shit that comes out of that woman's mouth. That was completely unnecessary and unprovoked.

"Well, if that were to happen... I'm not sure I'm going to be able to make any calls. I won't have a head and you can't get text messages."
"Your aunt can!"
"Right. What was I thinking? I'm gonna go. I got that postcard to write and life insurance to upgrade. I'm a busy guy."

After a conversation like that, I'm not sure I'm ever going home again. I'm safer here with the shotgun wielding crazies.

I don't negotiate with terrorists or dates in coffee shops.

...and it was all going so well.

Not really, though. Awkward is a more accurate description for the way I've been feeling for the last twenty minutes. Awkward and hyper are not a sexy combination. Who the hell goes on a date at a coffee shop, anyway? Oh wait. Nevermind. How very hypocritical of me. We all remember Heather, although accidentally meeting someone at a coffee shop and planning to meet someone at a coffee shop are completely different realms of reality. I like the way that happened. It was all completely unexpected and magical and real and strange and fun. This is not any of those. This feels like a job interview in a public venue. This feels like work and I'm not even getting paid for it - I'm volunteering for this bullshit. Pro bono? Oh, hell no. What the hell am I doing here? Here's the concept I'm working with: you meet someone (context of who/when/why/how unimportant) and you decide to get together to learn more about each other. The setting for that could have easily been anything, but that's not really the point. The point is just spending some time with someone to determine if it's worth investing more in some form of relationship. It's an improvised plan with the following step to be determined in play. Only the results are so uninspiring that I would rather think about something else entirely. It wasn't a complete disaster. In fact, up until about thirty seconds ago, I was rather enjoying myself. I was enjoying the company and enjoying the moment and enjoying life.

Yeah, so what the hell just happened?

I hate awkward silences. This particular awkward silence was immediately proceeded by my companion's laughter and a moment before that an off color remark which I didn't appreciate nearly as much - which I appreciated even less after the laughter. In fact, it is taking all of my not so inconsiderable strength and self-control to not throw the remainder of my latte directly into someone's face right now. So, I'm silently attempting to control the rage roaring through my veins. I inherited this from my Germanic ancestors. This unspeakable and furious blood of mine. It screams through me as it pushes it way repeatedly through my mind and heart. I am seconds from reducing this entire building to smoking rubble. My super power is about to activate and the effects will be catastrophic. I bite my lip and try to imagine being somewhere else entirely. I imagine that instead of this situation, I'm still in that other one. The Mustard Seed Jam House. I remember the painted wood tables that were lopsided and irregular. I remember the bizarre and lousy attempts at art that sparsely decorated the plain brick, windowless walls of the basement coffee shop. I remember the stained, ratty chairs and how absurdly soft and rough the cushions were and how disturbing that juxtaposition of textures felt against my cheek. I don't remember drinking coffee and I don't remember how I got there or why I left. I think I'm reasonably calm enough to break the awkward silence, only I don't want to now. I really don't care. It can last forever if it wants. I don't care. I wish I was sitting in a shitty coffee shop in Pennsylvania drinking day old coffee out of a mug I brought myself.

"What are you thinking about?"
"Someone I used to know."
"A special someone? Like an ex?"
"Sort of. I guess I was just remembering a different time in my life. I just suddenly remembered it. Sorry about that."
"What were you thinking about?"
"I'm thinking... I'm not ready for this."
"Did you just break up?"
"No. That was a long time ago. It's not about that."
"What's wrong then?"
"This just doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel like anything."
"Wow."
"Besides, that thing you said... If this had been going well, which it sort of was, that offhand comment would have ruined and killed it anyway."
"I didn't even mean it."
"Yeah, you did. Maybe you didn't mean anything by it, but you thought it and said it. You made a conscious decision to bring it into play - a terrible decision, by the way - and here we are in the aftermath. Also, it should be noted, that sort of comment provokes the very worst of my nature."
"You're acting strangely, but I wouldn't describe it that way."
"I guess we do change, afterall. That's interesting."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"I have to go."
"Really? Just like that?"
"Just like this."
"Wait a minute. This is crazy."
"I agree. It's crazy. Me too, probably. Definitely."
"Ok, you're not crazy and I'm really sorry about what I said."
"Really?"
"Really."
"Good."
"Alright, so?"
"So? Too late."

I know. What the hell was said? That's what you're asking, isn't it? What the hell was said? You want that missing piece of the conversation. You need that context to understand what's happening in the story. You want to know my motivations and the cause to all the effect. That's true irony, only in this case the characters know something the audience doesn't. To be perfectly honest, I'd share it with you if it meant giving it completely to you and keeping none of it for myself. If I could do that - if I could give the knowledge of that moment away and forget it - I would. Since I can't, I'll just quarantine the damage and keep it from spreading and infecting anyone else.

I can still taste the poison on my lips. It's my fault, in a way. I wasn't actually looking for this sacred connection or even looking to date anyone, even casually. Fuck, I don't know. I guess it was just this moment of weakness and poor judgment that I suffered and then suffered again in turn. I like being single. It's not so much being single, it's being completely dependent upon only myself. I have been completely dependent on other people for nearly all my life. I am just barely beginning to make my own way and my very own life. I want to learn to know myself. If I can't do that, how is anyone else ever supposed to do any more than fail at it as well? Besides, the more I learn about myself, the more I surprise myself nearly every day. It's more than my sudden ability to tolerate and even enjoy the presence of jalapenos - but that's part of it. It's like discovering this entire world you thought you knew completely and intimately. Well, I don't know shit. I don't know the first thing about what kind of person I really am. I don't know what I want, need, or deserve. I have no idea why I do some of the things that I do. Until only recently, I would never have considered myself either stupid or brave. But life presents you with moments that end up defining you - and it's not a sum of experiences that equal the whole of your character, but those moments do reflect the things you can't see or know without some way of converting them from abstract concepts into concrete proof of life.

I am alive today in the worst possible way, because I have only begun to understand what that even means. Now I just have to remember that moment and build on it. I can't negotiate how I feel. I don't want to and I won't try.

It's just funny how a stupid, careless moment can completely change everything you thought you knew. It's ridiculous how in just a few seconds the reality of a situation can reveal itself in one silly, inappropriate, and terrible remark.

Grandpa's Hands. [for Jake] (Updated with 9 more photos.)

One of my earliest memories was being completely horrified by the ugly, bluntness of the fingers on my grandfather's large, hairy hands. They seemed so horrible, rough, and careless. I compared them to the beautiful, delicate fingers of my own thin, smooth hands. It seemed impossible that genetics could differ so greatly in just two generations. That's when I convinced myself that I was not a member of the family unit presented to me. I thought I had uncovered a terrible secret. But as I watched those hands, I discovered another secret - they weren't as careless and useless as I imagined. Those hands could do things I couldn't imagine. They built strong, towering, powerful structures from nothing but wood, blood, and sweat. Those ugly fingers took quick, swift measurements and then cut through beams of timber and slowly, expertly brought all the tiny pieces together to create something new and useful and brilliant. The first thing I remember those hands building was a deck for my aunt and uncle in California. It took days. I was bored before the end of the first. I spent my time mastering the fine art of nintendo entertainment while just outside in the heat of the desert my grandfather was building a foundation and then covering it with diagonal planks that would provide us all with a platform to stand upon. The finished product was massive. We saved the irregular remainders - strange wooden blocks that formed trapezoids, parallelograms, rhombuses - and I played with them for years trying to re-enact the grand scheme I had seen that day. I had missed the construction of it, but I wasn't completely lost on the magnificence of the transformation from absolute nothing to completion of a new presence in the world. I was in awe of the power and knowledge and ability in those ugly, ridiculous hands.

I was also terrified of them. Whenever I misbehaved at my grandparents' house, my grandmother would threaten that grandpa was going to spank me. The very thought of it scared me senseless. I had seen what those hands could do to trees and stone. What chance could something made of mere flesh and bone stand against the immense power of forces like that? I was a very well behaved little boy - most of the time.

I no longer doubted my heritage, either. I found myself wondering if perhaps one day my own hands would grow and mature into the forms I had admired and feared. While they did come to master many things with grace and precision, they did not ever physically change - except in size and hairiness. I still have the thin, delicate, beautiful fingers of an artist. Still, I can't help but imagine what it would be like to control and shape the elements of the world and to re-shape them as I chose.



My grandfather cleaning what appears to be either a chicken or turkey. I remember this photo a little differently. In my mind, it was fish he was cleaning, as I'm sure he did on several occasions - just not on this one.



My grandfather laying the brickwork border of the rear patio of the yellow house. The brickwork kept the swamp of the yard from overtaking the patio, until later tenants broke it up and let it drain back.



Grandpa and grandma renovating the shed behind the yellow house.



Grandpa sewing up the turkey for Thanksgiving dinner.



Grandpa roasting the turkey on the spit, which he also made - of course.



Grandpa helping his neighbour with a massive project.



Happy Birthday, Grandpa.



Grandpa cutting and serving the turkey.



Grandpa and grandma celebrate their wedding anniversary.



Grandpa, younger than I am now.



Grandpa and the boys.