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.

What's your lie?

We all have at least one, right? Seriously. Everyone loves a little mystery. I know I do. For me, secrets are comforting. I am warmed by the many layers they form over my delicate, invisible heart. Sometimes I tell people that my heart is bulletproof. There's a lie. It's not my heart that's invulnerable... it's all those sacred, secret layers.

I passed out notecards at the meeting. I needed an opening exercise. Something to get people out of themselves, something to help them open up, something to celebrate the diversity of our group while realizing just how similar we all really are, something to help the newbs introduce themselves, something easy and fun and interesting. Tall order, that one. So after googling for ideas - because let's face it, I'm not a social creature at all and haven't the faintest idea on how to get an entire group of total strangers to at least be friendly and nice to each other - I decided on "2 truths and a lie".

For this exercise, each person makes 3 statements about themselves. The object of the game is to try to guess which statement is a lie. It sounds far more interesting than it turned out to be. Ok, allow me to elaborate: if the people participating were a little braver or less inhibited, it might have been exactly as interesting as it sounded. I changed my answers halfway through the circle because everyone's truths and lies were either about their family or body art. My lie turned out to be that I have 7 inappropriate but tastefully concealed tattoos.

Snore. Kill me.

But it got me thinking... If I wasn't so jaded and annoyed by the results of my group exercise, what interesting things could I reveal about myself to this group of random people? My lie should have been any of the following:

I'm completely satisfied with my life. I've never considered suicide. I've never been homeless or lived out of my car. I'd never drink and drive and haven't. I've never been under the influence of either drugs, alcohol, or a combination of both. I didn't drink or smoke until I was of age, because my parents wouldn't buy me the shit until I was of the legal age and by then I wasn't tempted any longer. I've never riden on the hood of a moving vehicle. I've never drowned due to the negligence of a family member. I've never been inside a motor vehicle while it was on fire. I've never been searched by the police for looking like a dangerous thug. I wasn't asked by the school administration not to attend school on the anniversary of the Columbine shootings. I've never used my rage powers to remove an entire wall from the trailer my father shared with his new bitch after she said something trashy and unnecessarily cruel about my mother. It's hard for me to confess the terrible things that I have done or mistakes that I have made. I regret all of the terrible choices I have made. I've never kissed someone I completely hated at the time. I plan on getting married someday. My first novel won't be in any way autobiographical. I don't regret all of the terrible choices I have made. It's easy for me to confess the terrible things that I have done or mistakes that I have made. I've never kissed someone I've completely loved at the time. Revealing truths about myself makes me feel better than just keeping my secrets to myself.

Anyway, it was fun enough for them and it got everyone sharing and participating, so... fine. Whatever. I guess I expected something real and fascinating and revealing and personal. I suppose my expectations for things are a little different than what everyone else expects from them.

On a happy note, no one was interested in the sandwiches provided, so I've got roast beef subs for lunch for the next two weeks. I guess I won't have to go grocery shopping afterall. That is so disappointing. (That's another lie, by the way. I hate grocery shopping.)

Wag me.

It's 5:30am. I work today. I'm not sure when, but it's going to happen and it'll last for 9 glorious hours. How would I rather spend my day? See photo. Oh well. We do what we must to do what we want.

Rent.

No, this isn't a musical. Settle down.

So... as of January, I've been renting my old house out to a former employee. I did this out of desperate necessity. Obviously, not ideal circumstances. Since January, I've received two months of rent. I'm still waiting for April, May, and June - soon to include July.

This would be fine if the damn electric company had terminated my account one of the five times I asked them to do so. Well, they finally did. This month. How lovely. So... I've got another massive electric bill to pay. I'm very excited.

I would subtract that from the rent I'd collected so far, but $0 minus $700+ is still $700+ in the hole.

Yeah. My financial situation is inspiring. But, it gets better. I left my phone in my jeep yesterday evening when I got home from work, so I missed my grandmother's call. It's land tax time again. How exciting. I can't wait for that bill to make it through the mail system and into my hands. Again, I would subtract that from the rent I'd collected so far, but -$700+ minus maybe another $600+ is a very painful $1300+ in the red.

Someone should kill me. I bet it would cost alot less. Bargain assassinations. I'm going to Google it. Oh, how completely unsurprising. Assassinations are much cheaper if you have them done in Mexico. I guess it's time for a roadtrip.

To summarize, renting the house has cost me about $1400 for 6 months.

Wait a minute. What happened to the rent from the two months I did receive? Oh, that went to paying off the previous electric bill which was just as massive. October, November, December, and January are the worst months for electric bills, by far. I still have the previous land tax bill to repay to my grandparents.

A wise man - who also happened to be a complete asshole - once told me that if I ever found myself in a hole, the best way to get out of it was to stop digging. Of course, I'd then push him into it and fill it back in. I mean, who wants a giant hole in their yard and some know-it-all asshole standing there looking smug? Not me. Unfortunately, I'm not the only one digging this hole and I stopped digging nearly a year ago. There may be hope, though.

I talked to the renter a month ago to find out if there was any chance in hell of ever seeing some money from him or if I should just evict him. He assured me he had every intention of paying and that money would be forthcoming and soon. Well, that worked out very well. Anyway, I just had another chat with my tenant. I'll hold by breath until this Friday. That's as much patience as I have left.

I mean, I understand we all have problems and shit happens and things fall apart. However, I got bills to pay on top of the house bills to pay. I just got my Jeep back from the shop and I still think there's something seriously wrong with it - something completely different that's just as seriously wrong with it, to clarify. I could also use an eye exam so that I can see things singularly instead of in multiples of two or three depending on distance. Whatever. I lost where I was going with that. Oh, we all got bullshit expenses and living costs money. So, that said... I can empathize to a degree, but I got no sympathy for anyone that can't step up and take care of business. I think I've demonstrated a fair degree of patience up to this point, so it's out of my hands after Friday. I can't help anyone who won't help themselves and I defintiely won't help anyone who won't help me back.

I totally understand why my grandmother was so eager to wash her hands of the whole messy situation. I got enough stress without the house bullshit to deal with. Seriously. Also, I don't need help accumulating more debt. I have more than enough and I was making great progress with that. But... yeah. I don't need more ways to spend my paycheck. It's stretched as far as it will go already.

I'm hoping it works out and my tenant makes an effort - some effort, any effort at all would be great at this point - to pay his rent and help me with that growing pile of savage bills.

Damn. No wonder my landlord fucking loves me. I pay that shit no less than a week early. I'm like clock work - easy money.

[/freak out and sigh]

Escapism.

Sunday... It's like Monday, but... Yeah.

4 hours to freedom, suckas.

Do panic. (Almost noon.)

I'm still awake... So far. It's been a weird day. Incredibly strange. Time isn't quite synced with reality. It's just slightly off like terrible low budget dubbing.

To keep everyone - including myself - on their toes and alert, I keep quizzing people on disaster response protocols. I'm glad there isn't really a tornado. No one wants to assume crash position huddles in the restrooms. We may be doomed, but we'll maintain our dignity in the face of natural disasters.

It's a little alarming the responses I got on how to respond to a fatality. 

''Am I a suspect?''
''I don't know. For the sake of the exercise... It was an accident.''
''Oh. Then I guess we should dial 911.''

But only after we determine none of us are murderers. Of course.

I'd be a lot more worried if I wasn't slightly delirious.

Fun with stick figures.

"Lost my head." This is the image I cropped my profile photo from. I made it several years ago and used it as a horizontal rule to separate my posts. Yeah, I'm weird. Enjoy!

Fun with science.

There are 10,000 things I could be doing right now.

...but I've decided to bitch about work. Yeah, I'm that guy right now. Not that there aren't other things to bitch about. For instance: Fortunately for the people upstairs, I'm not tired. Otherwise, I'd march up there and start throwing people and shit out the windows. Seriously.

I should force myself to sleep, but that's impossible now. I overslept this morning/afternoon and now I won't be able to sleep again until this afternoon. Blah. Today is going to suck. Hopefully I'll just go completely delirious and float through the day on auto-pilot. Yeah right. The best I can hope for is keeping myself upright and moving for the better part of nine hours and not passing out while trying to do paperwork in my office.

I wish I could say I've only done that a couple times. I wish I could say that.

Fuck, I hate working morning shift. It screws up my whole sleep cycle not to mention life. Also, people are so frantic in the mornings. Chill the hell out, people. Seriously. Step off the caffeine. This isn't South America. You can pause between sentences. Breathe even, if you want. If you feel like you're hyperventilating, maybe you should take a few deep breathes or sit down. That's what you get for ignoring proper punctuation, though. You have no context clues as to when it is appropriate to pause and catch your breath. Punctuation isn't optional, it's essential - as is comprehension for effective communication. If you want to communicate more efficiently, don't just accelerate your speech. That's not going to increase the amount of information you communicate if no one can understand all those mashed up syllables spewing from your mouth. Maybe you should try speaking in sentence fragments. Spice it up. I don't need all that bullshit. Just give me the bullet points and get out of my face. Exhausting.

Nope. I am not a morning person. I don't care to see anything living prior to noon. It's just too early to be interacting with anything or anyone, otherwise. I'm seriously not looking forward to 7am and I still have four hours to kill before I even start getting ready for the shitty day I'm going to have.

Why I really left Ohio.

If you're not completely certain you want to know this, you better stop reading right fucking now. I'm giving you the opportunity I never had. I'm giving you the option to gracefully walk away unscathed from the total shitstorm that I'm about to lay to type. You really don't have to read this. I, unfortunately, do have to write about it. It's time. It was a year ago now and 277 miles away. I think that's a safe distance on both accounts.

Previous to this incident, I had stated my intentions to my boss that I was very, very interested in exploring my options - especially in the case of the newly proposed and exciting West Virgina expansion. Since she had completely denied me the opportunity five months previous to that when there was a similar opportunity in North Carolina, I decided I would contact the recruiter and add my name to the list of those considered before speaking to her about my interest in doing so. Tacky, I know. But, what else was there to do? I was bored. It felt like I was slowly dying only... more monotonous, more futile. I had forgotten all about doing it, to be honest, when I received a phone call from the woman running the show in the new region of West Virginia. I was completely unprepared. In fact, I was working my other job when she called. I dropped everything and I gave the phone interview of my life. I gave that interview like my very life depended on it. For me, it was an opportunity to do something bold and new and amazing with a life that had become simply a matter of juggling two jobs and attempting to find the time to sleep inbetween. I was tired in so many, many ways.

Anyway, not the point of the story but relevant to establishing the timeline in the sequence of events and my state of mind/being/whatever.

That afternoon, when I clocked in at my primary job, I smiled at my boss. I imagined a time when I wouldn't be able to anymore. I imagined what my new life might be like. It was all hypothetical and magic.

"We need to talk." And I explained the situation.
"Wha... What the hell is wrong with you?"
"Nothing. What?"
"That's not the way you do things."
"Well, that's how I did them and that's how they are."
"Are you so unhappy here?"
"Not unhappy, just... There's zero chance of me advancing my career here. Unless you die, of course. Same thing at the other place. No one just quits their job at this level. I have to wait for someone to retire or die. I'm ready now. I don't want to waste the next ten years growing bitter and lazy."
"Wow. I still don't like the way you went about this."
"I didn't think they were going to call. I sort of gave up and forgot about it. It's been quite awhile. I wanted to at least try, though. You never know unless you try. Anyway, I forgot all about it until today."

So, I made the trip to West Virginia. I got paid to do so. I got paid very well to do so and just to take a look and hear what they had to say. If anything, it was worth the paid vacation and mileage. The first thing I noticed was the speed limit sign after I crossed the Ohio River and crossed the state line.

70 mph

I was in love.

We, the potential transfer candidates, all met for dinner in the training center - a small facility next to Borders in the largest mall I'd ever seen - with the future managers of the area and the district manager. We asked questions and they answered. They asked questions and we all answered in turn. They took notes. I wondered if I should be doing the same. This guy kept staring at me and it made me nervous. I tried to imagine what he was thinking. It didn't matter. I was here so there was a chance. That was enough to obsess about. I kept thinking that this was just the casual introductory dinner. The interviews would be the following morning and that's when I was going to win them over. Only, it turned out, that was the interview. It was an impromptu completely casual group interview. How obscene. The next day we were told to get out and explore the area. We were told the sites of the new locations and set loose. It was absurd. I made the best of it. I logged nearly 100 miles that day. I saw a lot of promise and opportunity and hope. I could live here if they let me. I really could. I think it was March. I went to Camden Park which was, of course, closed. I was sad. I might never be back and I'd never get to see it alive and working. I went to the Blenko glass factory. It was even less thrilling than the closed amusement park. I saw mountains of coal but felt no desire to tour the facilities or mines. Seeing the coal was enough for me. Then there were the bridges. There were so many of them everywhere. It felt like the entire state was lacerated by tiny snaking rivers. I crossed more than I could count. That's exaggeration. I crossed more than I could care to count. I came back to Ohio so eager and hopeful. That feeling slowly faded as the months passed silently. I did not receive a call, letter, or email. There was no response at all. Which seemed appropriate, actually, since there had been no official interview. The people I had told about my adventures and prospects did not look me in the eyes by the time May came to an end and June began. They pitied the poor foolish boy who still believed in this ridiculous fantasy of a better life that someone was just going to hand him. I tried not to resent them for it. I also wished I had simply kept those dreams of mine to myself instead of sharing them so freely with whoever would listen to my manic ranting. Life went on much the way it had, but with a new undertone of rejection and defeat.

It was an anonymous Saturday night when I noticed that my Jeep was pulling to the right side a little as I drove home from work at 2am. I assumed it was the air pressure. I checked it in the dark when I got home. The tires were all firm. I would test them tomorrow when I went back to work, just to be sure. Then I thought maybe the roads were a little slick or perhaps the wind was a little stronger than usual. Then I didn't think much at all because I was tired from working both jobs that day and not sleeping very much. Sunday was my recovery day. I only had one job to work and not until the afternoon. I could sleep until then and I did.

I was immediately reminded of the problem Sunday afternoon as I drove to work. This time, however, it wasn't a slight pull to the right. Things had escalated severely. I am, however, a very stubborn bastard and I was determined to make it to work. I would deal with this problem after I made it there on time. I never did make it to work that day. I had just come down the off ramp from the highway and made a left hand turn at the stop light onto the road leading to my work site. There was another light immediately after to allow the other side of the highway to turn into the other lane. It was after the first turn and before the second stop light that I heard the noise that made my heart stop and my Jeep as well.

"Oh shit, I just hit something."

I scanned the areas around me with all my mirrors and could not identify what I had hit or why I had come to a complete and sudden stop. I began to move forward. It wasn't easy. Something was flapping around somewhere. I assumed I had a flat tire. Then I heard that noise again and both my Jeep and heart stopped once more. After that, I was done. I could not move any further. Fortunately, I had made it to the second stop light. Unfortunately, it had turned green. I turned on my hazards and waved people around. I still had ten minutes to get to work and I could actually see it from where I was. I called work.

"Hi. Are you near a window?"
"Um. Yes, I am."
"Do you see that mess of traffic at the light by the overpass?"
"Yeah. I do."
"That's me. I think I have a flat. I might be late."
"Ok. Call back if you need help. Rob's not here, though."
"That's ok. I think I can handle it. See you soon."

I crawled across the seats and exited the passenger side of the vehicle. I immediately spotted the offending wheel and I immediately hit redial.

"I'm going to need a tow. Can you find a number for me and call them?"
"What's wrong?"
"Just call a tow for me, please."



This is what I was looking at as I made this call and said these words. What I was thinking was that I shouldn't freak the hell out and completely lose my shit even though I really, really wanted to. I remained calm which allowed me to remain objective and to investigate the situation since I would be waiting for that tow for over an hour. What I discovered was only one lug nut. The thread inside the lug nut which allowed it to securely screw into place seemed intact except for the very end towards the bottom which seemed like it had caught on fire and melted. I examined the rods which it and its fellow lug nuts had once been screwed onto keeping my tire in place. The threads on these were also intact. They weren't worn down or eroded or stripped. There was no logical, natural explanation for this event. Tires don't just fall off of moving vehicles and then get pinned underneath them. They don't.



I remember the first thing the tow truck driver said to me and the waves of horror and closure it sent through my body:

"Wow. Who'd you piss off?"
"I'm not sure, actually."
"You make any enemies lately?"
"Possibly several. I don't know."
"You... aren't in management, are ya?"
"Yes... I... (clearing throat) Yes. I am."
"Well, that explains it, then."



As we rode through town to the only garage that was open on a Sunday, he told me a little anecdote from his personal history. I think it was meant to make me feel better. Anyway...

He had been in management once. I think it was a restaurant in Dayton or Toledo or somewhere. Well, he had asked his dishwasher - who had no dishes to wash at that particular moment - to empty the trash and take it out to the dumpster - which was actually part of his job, no one else shared this responsibility, it was solely his specific job duty. Well, based on the surveillance video which would then become evidence, the dishwasher - after taking out the trash - smashed every part of this manager's vehicle that he could with a crow bar: headlights, tail lights, windshield, mirrors, all of it. He also sliced his tires and took a shit on the hood.

I sat, paralyzed, as I listened to him retell that story. I couldn't begin to make a list of people crazy enough to do something like that just because I told them to do their job which was actually my job. Oh fuck. Then there were the people I had legitimately pissed off: employees I had wrote up, sent home early, caught stealing, had arrested, terminated... Oh Fuck! Then there were the other people I had caught stealing and had arrested, banned for life for being drunk or crazy or both, found vandalizing the building and run off, or just stood up to when they were harassing and threatening my employees so they then turned their attention to me. My response was always "I'll be right here waiting for you. Bring it." OH FUCK! Oh, not to mention the previous tenants of my new home which I, accompanied by my mother and brother, had evicted on Christmas Day after they hadn't paid rent to my grandmother in nearly a year. Or, it could be someone completely random like a hooligan or street punk or something. Sonuvabitch. The list of suspects was impossibly long. I sat there silently as he drove along.

I sat in the waiting room and tried not to think about the whole situation as they worked on my Jeep. A thought occurred to me suddenly and I wish it hadn't. What if the wheel had come off sooner? What if it had come off Saturday night like it was obviously meant to? I could be... I willed myself to think about the sign reminding me to have my oil changed every 3000 miles. I focused on each letter of the print. I drew them in my mind. I would not think about anything else.

Rob bought me a Dr. Pepper because it's my favorite and I looked insane as I sat there concentrating on that damn poster for twenty minutes and mouthed the words like a lunatic chant to ward off the evil thoughts in my brain and their obvious, undeniable logic. I liked the kid. He had kept me sane on so many crazy nights. It seemed like we had always worked together, but that wasn't true. Still, I liked the kid. He had just completed his technical school and was now living his dream working at the only garage open on a Sunday and still working a full schedule with me at the place I never made it to on this particular Sunday.

"So. What happened? Your tire is seriously fucked."
"Yeah. I did a real number on it. That's what I get for thinking I could change a tire. I guess I forgot to tighten the lug nuts."
"Did you also forget to put them back on?"
"I might have. It was dark and I was coming home from work. You know how that goes. Anyway, I didn't have a flashlight and I was already a little frustrated when I got the flat. Careless. Stupid. But, it's all my own damn fault."
"Are you sure that's what happened?"
"Of course. What else would it be?"
"I don't know. The tow guy said something strange. It's nothing. Glad you're ok."
"Thanks."

I'd be better if every beautiful, believable, reassuring word I just said to him wasn't a total fucking lie. But, what am I going to do? Who the hell am I going to tell something like this? No one. Not one damn person. Well, maybe one person. But before that moment, I had to make it through this one. When they had finished the repairs and I had paid, I was waiting for one of the mechanics to load my dead tire into the back of my Jeep so that I could leave when he stopped suddenly and just whistled. He called someone else over. He said something stupid like "holy frijoles" or something. Someone else came over to see what all the fuss was about. I joined them.



When the tire had finally worked against the one remaining lug nut long enough to come free of the axle entirely, the axle slammed down on the rim of the tire. That's the first noise I heard. I kept trying to drive my Jeep and was mildly successful until the axle ground its way through the rim like it was nothing but cheap plastic and came crashing through to finally come to rest on the pavement. That was the second and final noise I heard. Then all the mechanics were gone. They went to find anyone else they could and they also went to get their cellphones so they could take pictures. None of them had ever seen anything like it before. Neither had I. Once they had marveled at it long enough, I drove home. I used a personal day because I had earned it.

The next day at work, my boss was talking to someone in the office. I don't remember who. I only remember what I said to them.

"I need you to leave this office now."

Once they did, I closed and locked the door.

"That was rude."
"I'm sure I don't care. We need to talk about yesterday."
"This couldn't have waited? We were in the middle of something."
"Someone is trying to kill me. No, it can't wait."
"What are you talking about?"
"Saturday night while I was working, someone removed all but one of my lug nuts on my rear passenger side tire. It took until Sunday afternoon for my tire to work against that lug nut and come off my vehicle as I was driving it back here."
"How can you be sure?"
"Because I felt it driving home that night and then I really felt it driving back Sunday. I knew something was wrong but I couldn't figure out why it was driving so strangely. I thought if I could just make it to work... You know, I could call Rob and he could look at it and... whatever. It doesn't even matter what I thought. I'm in serious danger here."
"Well, you should just park on camera."
"No shit. Really? Should I do that? You think?"
"What do you want me to do? Do you want to call the police?"
"No. That's not going to do anything. They'll just file a report that means nothing and... No. Pointless."
"Well, what else can we do?"
"Apparently nothing but wait to see if they actually succeed at hurting or killing me next time. I can't be here if it's unsafe for me. Do you get that? I'm not going to work somewhere if there's a chance I might die from doing so. I'm not going to die for this job."
"You're not going to die."
"How do you know that? You don't know what's going to happen to me. This isn't in my head. This is happening. It could have already happened. I am lucky to be here right now. I'm lucky I'm not permanently disabled or worse right now. I could have died."
"Ok. I know. But you're fine."
"I'm leaving. I'm going to call today to see about that transfer and if I don't get it... I'm leaving either way. I'm not staying here. I'm just not."
"I understand, but you should just give it a little time before-"
"No. I've decided. I'm leaving. I'll work here until I find something else, but I'm gone. First job I'm offered, I'll take it. Just wanted you to know."

After work that day, I called the woman in charge of the new region in West Virginia. It went straight to voicemail. As I was leaving a very casual message about hoping to hear something soon, someone was leaving a voicemail for me. I listened to it. It was the call I had been waiting for. We had called each other at the exact same moment. I hit redial and it went back to voicemail so I hung up and answered my call waiting. When she made the offer, I accepted.

True to my word, I took the first job I was offered and I left Ohio.

Completely natural and therefore foreign.

I was outside today. On purpose, too. And not just for the time it took me to walk from building to car to building to car to building again. No. I was outside today for nearly an hour. I saw a tiny pond and trees and people and dogs and pathways and benches. So very weird in that completely-natural-and-therefore-foreign sort of way.

So... who showed up for this miraculous and strange event other than the most obvious - me? My district manager.

And?

No And? is required. Just her. Only.

I would be disappointed, but... I fucking showed up. I was there. I did it. I said I would and I did, regardless of whether I had better things to do or less interesting but maybe more enjoyable things to do - like debate whether you can properly pluralize water or if it's simply measureable as part of a large collective and is therefore defined by the container or area it fills (two glasses of ice water rather than two ice waters) or nap. Whatever. I was there and that's what matters. Lead by example. It builds character. Blah blah cliche blah blah.

It was actually better that way. I had a lovely conversation with my district manager as we walked the many trails throughout the park and sweat and drank from bottles (water bottles, or in my case gatorade, but there it is again, bottles instead of waters - perhaps it's simply my preference, but pluralizing water seems ridiculous.) for nearly an hour. It wasn't boring or strange. It was relaxing, actually.

I came home, showered, and then eagerly tried to log in to the site to post my active time and... denied. The site is down. I was reassured by the text on the screen that tech support had been notified. How nice. I guess I'll check back tomorrow or later. I don't even care. I'm very zen and dungivashit right now.

Peace.

Pedometer? Don't trust ped-anything.

Posting from the Palm of my hand.

Redic. Anyway...

I keep stepping up and completely dominating these events at work because, honestly, no one else wants to or will even pretend to care. That's fine. They'd ruin everything anyway. Suck the fun right out of living - if they could, most of them would. So, what's the agenda this time? Embrace a more active lifestyle (because corporate is beginning to tire of all the fat asses on the payroll? Of course not.) because that will entitle us to longer, happier, and healthier lives. I can sugar coat anything, by the way. Seriously though, someone should have said something or staged an intervention years ago. Not the point, but this is:

I will be at a public park trying to encourage and motivate anyone who might show up into staying active for an entire hour this and every Thursday until I'm the only one who keeps showing up or the competition ends.

Wait. What? Another competition. Yes, reader. Another competition. We are a highly competitive corporation, both internally and externally. And once again I will be leading my team boldly into the great unknown of our new corporately mandated active lifestyles and group psychosis.

Yep. I'm looking very forward to regretting this whole ordeal. Although, it may assist me at meeting my goal of losing another 30 pounds which will have me happily under maximum safe skydiving weight. That'll be worth the circus I'm anticipating trying to ringlead this Thursday.

Continued Survival Anniversary 2010

I wake up. The first thought I manage is actually a combination of three (Why is it so damn bright? Where the hell am I? Why do I need to be awake right now?) which just amplifies how disoriented and exhausted I am. I want to go back to sleep. I wish I hadn't woken up. I also realize that I'm not at all where I thought I was. I thought I was in the safety of my apartment lounging comfortably upon my futon. Instead, I'm strapped into a chair and every bone of my body is screaming in agony, as is the alarm on my phone. It's in my shirt pocket. I turn it off by punching and slapping myself in the chest. Then I slap myself in the face.

Fuck. What the hell? WHY?

I look around. I'm in my jeep which is in a parking lot I don't recognize. I have this vague sense that I'm late for something. I examine myself. I'm wearing my uniform. Work. I'm going to be late for work. I start the engine and turn on GPS. Thankfully, I don't need to gather my bearings. GPS knows where I am and how to get me where I need to be. I drive.

"Hey, motha effer. You got a text."

Yes, I do. I have thirteen, actually. They all say some variation of the same thing.

"Happy Birthday!"

It's from my cousin via Facebook. They all are. Well, they're not all from him, but they're all... whatever. You get it. It's a celebration. There's a party happening in my pocket. Wow. That sounds dirty.

Oh yeah. It's my birthday. That's probably important. It doesn't really explain anything, but it's relevant. Sort of. I finally remember why I was parked in that lot and sleeping in my jeep a mere 3 miles from my apartment rather than simply going to my apartment and sleeping there. Gridlock. I was on my way home from work and thanks to some road construction, traffic was backed up for miles and it wasn't moving in either direction. I sat there for fifteen paralyzed minutes and tried not to pass out. I was barely successful.

Oh, I didn't sleep very well Sunday night. I kept having the same nightmare about how horrible Monday was going to be. Recurring, persistent, prophetic nightmares kept me awake all night. So... here we are. It's Monday afternoon and I'm living the dream.

Anyway, I've been tired all day long. Also, I had to work this morning, but I kept telling myself it wasn't a big deal since I could just come home in the afternoon and fall into a coma for the next day or so. Well, that didn't happen. What did happen was I ended up picking up an additional shift and I only had 4 hours where I could get some sleep in the meantime - only I never made it home on account of the gridlock. I just pulled into that parking lot, turned off my vehicle, and I was gone.

Next thing I knew, I'm waking up to my incredibly shitty day already in progress.

Did I mention that I'm batshit crazy from sleep deprivation and this intense and sickening feeling of total deja vu from those damn dreams of mine.

She wasn't in them. That was a surprise. I thought I had gone completely delirious when I saw her. What a strange day. I don't even have time to think about anything. Just insanity and haste and me being completely ridiculous. All damn day.

I have no idea what anyone is saying when I do get to work and get there late.

"What did you just say about quarters?"
"No, I'm talking about the order. Did you print the order?"
"Borders? What?"
"Nevermind."
"Ok. You're doing a great job... whatever you're doing... just, great job."

Yeah, I don't even believe me. I'm on auto-pilot. Everything is just automatic and pre-recorded. Time suddenly speeds up on me and the hours dissolve. I'm surprised by how easy it is to completely lose track of things so basic and important.

Someone asks the date. "May 24th. It's May 24th." I don't know who asked or why, but I know the answer. I notice there's a band-aid around the middle finger on my right hand. "How'd this happen?" No one knows. I think I'm legitimately going crazy this time.

Everyone is singing to me and it's just so weird. This entire day has been completely surreal for me. Strangely enough, I enjoyed it. Obviously, it wasn't ideal but it was definitely my day to shine. It couldn't have been any less ordinary.

I think I just did the impossible. I escaped internet customer service hell.

"Hello, I'd like to cancel my account today. I would have liked for it to have been canceled after one of many previous calls to do so, but that hasn't happened yet. I realize now that I have to be a little more direct. I am not going to pay you any more for services I don't use, so you should delete my account and leave me alone."
"Oh, I'm sorry to hear you are wanting to cancel your account today."
"Yeah, for the third time."
"Oh, I see. I am sorry for the confusion."
"Me, too. Cancellation confirmation number is..."
"Well, since you have been a valued customer for so long-"
"Oh, shit, here we go."
"I'm sorry. I do not understand."
"I do. You're going to offer me some ridiculous upgrade and service contract instead of an immediate cancellation of all services, which - if you remember from only seconds ago - is what I want and am asking for."
"Well, I am pleased to be informing you that you are most correct and we can offer you an upgrade to DSL for an introductory offer for the next six months for the small charge of only $6.95. You should take advantage of this wonderful opportunity. Would you like for me to be doing that for you today."
"...."
"Hello?"
"Hi."
"So, would you like to be upgrading to DSL with us today?"
"No, I wouldn't like that at all. I don't use your service. I don't need your service, I already have a high speed internet provider and I don't feel that I should have to continue to pay you any amount - no matter how small it is - for services I don't need, want, or use. I don't use PeoplePC. I did... two years ago. I've had my account suspended indefinitely, but not canceled, and then reactivated without my authorization. I've also had all kinds of wonderful, mysterious, and unnecessary charges to random bank and credit accounts in the meantime, but I have as of yet been unsuccessful in canceling my account with you and I'm getting moderately frustrated. If there's an alternate phone number I need, you should just give it to me. I mean, seriously, what do I need to do? Do I need to cancel all my credit cards and reopen a new bank account or can you simply do what the hell I'm asking you to do? Cancel my account. It's literally going to take you probably 3 mouse clicks to do it. So... click, click, click. Let's make it happen."
"Well, I appreciate you taking the time to explain your concerns with me and I would be happy to assist you in the cancellation of your account today. I apologize for offering you an additional service to consider. I did not intend to distract you from your reason of calling and I simply was offering it in case you might be interested in such great savings."
"Ok. And?"
"I am looking up your account information now. One moment please."
"..."

Ten minutes of offers to upgrade, suspend, and otherwise adjust but not cancel the account continues. I am firm but refrain from any belligerence. Whatever motives and incentives this representative may be influenced by, she is a necessary ally in this endeavor and I must maintain our relationship if I have any hope of actually pulling this whole thing off today. I have already noticed that she is not as aggressive or manipulative as her predecessors. Perhaps, she is fresh out of the training program. I'm not sure. Maybe she just hates her fucking job and is merely going through the motions to pay her bills. In any case, I've already detected several weaknesses in her suggestive sales and counter arguments. She even pauses for a moment when I blatantly deny or refuse to consider anything she might be saying at that moment. The fact that she even accessed my account without getting me to agree to some ridiculous new terms of service means I'm that much closer to closing the door on this mess.

"Ok. Your account will be active until the next billing cycle which for you will be... Oh. I see that today is actually the end of your current billing cycle."
"That is correct and not a coincidence, by the way. I've played this game before."
"Haha. Ok. So then your account will be ended today and I will provide you with a cancellation number."
"Excellent."
"I am glad I was able to assist you today. I hope that you will keep PeoplePC in mind for the future if you ever need a DSL or dial-up internet provider with extremely affordable rates. We would be most happy to have you return to us at that time."
"I can honestly say that I'll never be able to get my experiences with you out of my mind and that I'll remember my time with you for the rest of my days online."
"Thank you. Stay safe and have a great day."
"Absolutely. You, too."

Caught (on video)