I'm boring myself right now, so I can only imagine how you must feel.

It snowed here. Once. Very big deal. To someone. Not me, but someone.

I finally got new tires. That is a very big deal. I've been talking about getting new tires for over a year now. Well, I got them on Monday. I also got an oil change and an alignment. Hurray for safe driving which I will be doing alot more of from this point forward. Beep beep.

Tomorrow is the last day of 2009. It was a good year and one of many firsts. My first house. My first lawn boys. They did a great job, or at least a better job than I would have since I had no intention of doing anything ever. My first apartment and leasing agreement. My first transfer. My first step out into the world on my own. Let me amend that: My first successful step out into the world on my own. My first experience with high speed internet. My first experience with cable television. I'm obviously more fond of the former. My first GPS. It's never been off while I've driven anywhere since. My first over-night business trip which is also my first week-long business trip. My first club experience - not a fan. My first casino experience where I was actually gambling rather than working - also, not a fan. Many others, but that's the highlight reel. Good year. Which makes me slightly anxious about the next. Hopefully, things will just keep getting better or stay just as good for awhile. I think I've earned it.

I don't know. I'm very zen right now. Makes it difficult to post much of anything. Anyway, Happy Holidays Past and New Year Pending!

Black Keys stole my soul.

If you don't know, you better call somebody and find out. Fool.

I'm establishing a filing system for all my loose, miscellaneous, semi-important, mess of papers today. It'd be so much easier to simply burn everything. I'm working on it. I've thrown away more than half of the mess. I know, the rain forest. Go hug something, hippies. I'm not recycling a damn thing.

I removed the horrifying wall mirror in my office. Until now, I had compromised and simply hung a blanket over it. I didn't realize I had a horse print comforter. But, I do. That must have been a Christmas present from years back. It was still in the plastic wrap. But enough's enough. I pulled that monstrous wood paneled mirror out of the wall. It's in my bedroom now until I can figure out what to do with it next. I really, really, really hate mirrors. I mean seriously. I hate mirrors. I especially hate half broken and ugly bastardized versions of mirrors like the one I'm dealing with here. Not to mention the overwhelming and infuriating size of the thing. I almost broke it the rest of the way. What the hell was the person who decided that was a necessary addition to this apartment thinking when they came to that conclusion? I sense drug abuse was a factor. I may have to put it in the living room. There aren't many walls that will accommodate something of that ridiculous size. I'm just tired of looking at it. I want to break it, but can't. Wait... I just solved the puzzle. I will hang it in the utility room above the washer and dryer. I won't ever have to look at it there, unless I'm doing laundry. The rest of the time, my chino curtains will hide it along with those appliances and my mop and broom. Perfect. I'm a genius when it comes to home improv. That's not short for improvement, either.

I paid off both of my personal credit cards. Excellent financial progress and more to follow. I'm currently tracking the state of my auto loan. That will take considerable time but I like seeing my slow progress there as well. I'm actually ahead on payments. Yessssss. All my bills are paid and I just purchased enough food to see me through February at least. Life is pretty awesome at the moment. It'll be a cheap Christmas, but I'm in a transitional phase and thrift is my new best friend.

I did the humanitarian thing again this year. Instead of just one, I had several adopted bastard children of the greater Charleston/Huntington areas to find gifts for. I even wrapped the gifts as well. I didn't attend the party though. I had to work and everything was very short notice. Anyway, I'm glad I volunteered my day off for the shopping/wrapping part of the event. I had fun with the rest of management. Plus, it's always fun to spend someone else's money. Although, driving around in the ghetto of Huntington is not my idea of fun. No. But I survived and on zero sleep. That was a deliriously insane day for me. I still haven't made it to Salvation Army or Goodwill with my 3+ totes of clothing donations. I might do that tomorrow when I'm out looking for any deal I can find on new tires.

My sister was stuck on a highway somewhere in the middle of a terrible snow storm. She read a book to pass the time until she was able to drive again. Then Nurse Egg drove into a snowbank and had to be dug out. She is very, very stressed out right now. I know this because she told me she couldn't even count money and she's letting someone else drive her car. Terrible. At least she made it home. I, on the other hand, was delighted to learn that I can not only make it up the steep incline to my apartment but that I can make it back down the same steep decline in my Jeep. I didn't even drive into any of the homes that are positioned absurdly and dangerously only feet from the road. If someone tripped walking out of the front door to one of these houses, they would land in the median. That's disturbing to me. I almost prefer the obscene tower of stairs to this alternative. Anyway, I am very pleased that I don't have to park somewhere and walk home. The lot for my apartment building hasn't been plowed but that's not a problem for my Jeep. I didn't plow or shovel my driveway last year because I didn't have to and I simply refused.

I am starving. I will post again after I've made a little more progress with cleaning and organizing the various rooms of my apartment. And after I figure out what to eat and possibly watch some television as well.

Happy Annual Non-Birth-Related Continued Survival and Humanitarian Celebratory Season of Gift Exchange and Bonding Time to all! Enjoy!

Goodmorning, Sunshine.

My sister is here. She's sleeping in my bedroom. Luckily, I've grown very accustomed to sleeping on the floor of my living room so it's not a big deal. What I'm not accustomed to is having anyone else in my life, sharing things like time and space and breathable air, and compromise.

We were supposed to wake up at 10am today. This sort of happened. I guess. She was up on time and ready to go and made several attempts to get me up and ready to go. God love her, it wasn't happening today. So, I slept through our time line. We should have left the apartment by 11am and arrived at our destination sometime before 1pm. It's 1pm now and I'm barely awake and she has given up the fight. We're also still an hour and a half away from the potentially awesome/awkward day we had planned - these things tend to go either way for us.

I could be disappointed, but she's still here and it's still Tuesday, so... why complain? Ok, maybe it's a shitty day outside and maybe we haven't done any of the amazing things we said we would. We did other things and we spent every second of our joint vacations together. Yeah, that's a half full glass of holiday awesomeness.

Speaking of which... I may have a binge cycle of alcoholism. I haven't really consumed alcohol in years but... I well made up for lost time in the past two days. Which explains my reluctance to move or live or do much else but lay around today. It also explains my insane status messages on several social networking sites and that mass text which everyone in my phone book received the other night. It wasn't obscene. I don't think it was, anyway. I need to read it. I should definitely read it and plan some damage control since I'm fairly certain I sent it to my boss and her boss. I know I sent it to my old boss since she texted back and we exchanged texts at like midnight. Which was funny. She was one of the few people to respond with something other than "Who the fuck is this?" or "You are a freak".

What was I talking about?

Oh, it's Tuesday. It's the last official day of my sister's visit and I need to get off my fucking ass and we need to spend some quality fun time together. Now, I just need to figure out what we're going to do and get us there. Wish me luck.

Oh, I just checked my checking account balance online. Whatever we do... it's going to have to cost $0. Wonderful.

Cheers, bitches. It's Christmas in WV.

I'm gonna start a riot.

"We're going to play a game today. The name of the game is The next person to say the phrase 'You're too young to be so jaded.' gets punched in the face. A mouthful, I know. But, this is a very simple game to play since the name of the game is also how we play. Be advised, we're now officially playing this game, so do not repeat the title unless you are ready for the consequences. This game doesn't end until someone is on the floor. Crying. Now, you might be thinking to yourself: Hey. Isn't this just the 'Family Christmas Game' with a different title? The answer, of course, is yes. Yes, it is. It is exactly the same game but we don't need as many players for this version and we actually know what the magic phrase is in advance. That takes a little of the suspense and tension out of the atmosphere, but I think it will allow more people to actually win. And we all want to win, don't we? It's no fun if we have a twelve-way tie. So... good luck everyone."

Five times in the last week, that's how many times someone has said that exact phrase to me. I know you were curious. Also, yes. I did say this aloud and to a small group of people. They didn't get the whole Family Christmas Game reference (Well, not all of them. Some did, I think, on some personal level.) but I couldn't help myself. The opportunity for comedy presented itself, so I took it. Oh, I'm completely neglecting my duties as narrator/author/protagonist. For those of you who aren't as vocab savvy as you should be, here's a little help:

jad·ed (jā'dĭd)
adj.

1. Worn out; wearied: "My father's words had left me jaded and depressed" (William Styron).

2. Dulled by surfeit; sated: "the sickeningly sweet life of the amoral, jaded, bored upper classes" (John Simon).

3. Cynically or pretentiously callous.

Also, you may want to bookmark dictionary.com for future reference. If that word gives you trouble... I weep for the children.

I would like to take a moment to address my alleged jadedness. I was worn out, burnt out, stressed out. I was fed up and dead to the world by most accounts. Which is one of many reasons I took the transfer. I hated my old life, so I traded it in for a different one. It's worked out beautifully. I feel alive again. Happy, most of the time, and nearly satisfied. It's a process and I'm working on it. But, progress has been steady and good which leads me to be very optimistic about the future. Very optimistic.

As for being sated and dulled by surfeit (excess), it's no huge secret that I live well beyond my means. Although, I have been cutting back alot lately. Ever since moving here, I've been making adjustments to my standard of living and decreasing my gross exceptionally. I still have alot of bills and debts to pay off. I'm working on that. Again, it's a process and progress has been steady (slow) and good. But, I can not deny that I'm a fucking snob. Always have been, always will be. That's just how I am. I understand etiquette and social order and class structures. I am semi-cultured and prudish and usually polite to a fault. I can't help that. But, as far as amoral? I don't think so. I think I have very strong, possibly militant ethics. At least, now I do. It wasn't always the case. I used to be very dodgy. I wouldn't have trusted myself a few years ago - with anything, ever. But, I've come to recognize that I don't particularly like that side of myself. I like the person I've become, the person I've worked and still work to become. I'm still a snob, but at least I'm honest about it now.

Also, I think this would be a good time to discuss the difference between lying (Which I still do when appropriate.) and withholding/omitting information (Which I do constantly, even here.). I do not believe these to be various shades of dishonesty. Lying is dishonest. Withholding/omitting information is simply a choice which effects the extent of another person's perception of events. Consider:

Suppose we are in that preliminary phase of human contact where we are sharing information and trying to find common ground to stand on with which to build our possible relationship on. So, we're basically interviewing/interrogating each other.

You: "What's your favorite food?"
Me: "Pizza, I guess."
You: "Me, too! OMG."
Me: "Yeah, pizza rocks."

Now, that's pretty general. Pizza can mean alot of things to alot of people. Reconsider:

You: "What's your favorite food?"
Me: "Pizza and allow me to elaborate in order of favorite to like to barely tolerate: Philly Cheese Steak, Mexican, Spicy Chicken, Supreme (all meats and vegetables), Sausage, Macaroni, Pepperoni, Cheese, Vegetable, Hawaiian."
You: "You barely tolerate Hawaiian pizza? That's my favorite. And I'm from Hawaii, you asshole."
Me: "Well... maybe you should go back there and shove some disgusting pineapple pizza in your face hole."

This is a very ugly result. Could we have possibly compromised and shared a Supreme pizza? Sure, and we'd probably even be friends at some point. But, I fully disclosed every possible detail about my opinion of this particular topic. Which, you took a little personally. What's wrong with you, anyway?

I think I've made my point.

So, I don't believe myself to be amoral. I'm just a little secretive and discreet about the flow of any information I may have about anything. I am simply aware of how needless or even damaging certain information can be in certain situations. This ties back to etiquette and my polite disposition. Also, it's usually none of your damn business and sometimes it's none of mine. But, simply because I know something (Learned either directly or accidentally, doesn't matter.) is no reason to go around telling everyone else. And if I can, I will try to forget the information I'm not supposed to know. If possible. Usually doesn't work, but I try or at least act stupid when asked about it.

Now, that leaves the part about me being cynical or pretentious. I am not going to deny being cynical. No. I am. Although, I would like to point out that alot of that is just over-emphasized realism. I'm a realist. I've said it before: I'm bound by reason, just like mathematics. I am governed almost exclusively by logic. So, it's only natural that I have a predisposition toward being cynical. However, it's not like I'm perpetually negative. I make great effort to attempt to put a positive spin on even hopeless endeavors. I have a feeling an example is warranted. I won't use one of my own here. Those are usually highly improvised, situation specific, obscenely hilarious, and just as immediately forgettable afterwords. (+50 points for anyone who knows the reference I'm about to use and double that for anyone who can name the episode.) Consider:

We are on a road trip, destination unknown but plotted through GPS which I insisted we bring along. You are driving and trying your best to follow along with the robotic female voice of the GPS. You take a sudden turn, at the behest of the guidance device, onto what should be and possibly once was a bridge. As we begin to sink into the lake, I make an offhand comment:

"Well, at least we don't have to explain this to the folks at OnStar. Because, that, would be embarrassing."

Sure, that's still cynical. But, I'm attempting to alleviate the stress of the situation through humor and limit the horror of it by stating how it could possibly be worse than it is. I'm not ignoring the facts (Even how very obviously this situation is mostly my fault.), I'm just not readily accepting them either.

I won't even comment on being pretentious. I've earned everything I have and am, or am still making payments/penance to that effect. Good or bad, my choices have been my own and I do not regret any of them. Collectively, they have shaped my life and as I said earlier, I am liking my life right now.

I really, really am. Every possibly jaded second of it.

Oh please. Eat me.

I really, really, really wanted to order a pizza tonight. I really did. I also really, really, really wanted to order it online to ensure accuracy and complete order customization. I really did. But, I didn't.

Look at me saving money by not spending it shamelessly online. And my bills are paid. On time, even. Except for Sprint and they can eat a dick.

I'm not getting into that whole mess right now. Anyone reading should be at least mildly aware of my Sprint loathing. Wow, I really hate them. My bill is now $150. That's for two months of service. They won't disconnect me until I pay them so I simply won't ever do that again. Problem solved. Everyone's happy.

Anyway, I'm only mildly convinced that the delivery driver could find my apartment so it's all for the best really. Also, my porch light doesn't work. Since I don't anticipate visitors, I don't see that as much of a problem until I consider food delivery personnel. They're people, too.

I have over fourteen hours until I have to report to the job, so I'm going to finish rummaging through my shit and trying to organize or dispose of it. I'm also going to do another couple loads of laundry since I found more forgotten articles of my wardrobe packed in with my reports and office supplies. I'm not a very rational house packer, but I'm fast as hell. I have more experience than anyone else ever could. It's an art and I specialize in abstract by the metric ton. Think I'm being redundant with that term? Wrong! Observe:

"Because of the similarity in pronunciation — and in some circles, spelling — there can often be confusion between a short ton, a long ton, and a metric ton. In general, in the metric-using world the term ton or tonne alone will be used to refer to a metric ton, while the distinction long ton or short ton will be used to refer to the measure of the standard or Imperial system. In the United States, the term ton will be used to refer to a short ton, although in some industries — such as freight — a ton may be assumed to be a long ton. The term metric ton is then used to distinguish the metric unit. As a rule of thumb, it is a good idea to distinguish which unit of measurement you intend, if there is any doubt that your listeners might misconstrue your meaning." WiseGeek.com

Score one for semantics.

I ate roast beef, peas, and mashed potatoes with gravy for dinner. I wish I had pizza.

First it giveth, then it taketh away.

Bless me, readers, for I have sinned and it has been sixteen days since my last confession.

I wish. My life hasn't been nearly all that interesting lately. Busy and hectic, yes. Delicious and decadent, no.

Blah. I almost posted yesterday but I woke up feeling like the morning after a frat house kegger. All I did was go to work. Draw your own conclusions. I feel almost human today, but most humans don't wake up at five in the afternoon. Whatever. I'm alive and life is semi-sweet and reasonably enjoyable this afternoon. I'm going to celebrate by making myself a snow cone.

I have a snow cone maker. I'd like to thank my mother's impulsiveness for making that possible. I have not one but two flavors - pineapple and cherry, I believe - so I'm going to make a two-tone bowl of shaved ice and eat it until my teeth shatter.

I finally decided to scout out Facebook. I am horrified and intrigued. I don't know if I'm going to validate my account. There are people there I would like to have contact with and several people I would not. I don't like ghosts of the past. Well, I don't like most of them. It's complicated and I like things to be simple these days. As simple as they can be when I get involved. I have a tendency to amplify and confuse things. It's a gift, really.

I finally sent out another round of postcards to the family about a week ago, I think. Mailed them, even. I know. How do I do it? I'm not sure. It's all about time management - which I truly suck at and I'll be the first to admit it.

I have most of my office sorted out now. Apartment H is getting to the point where I almost wouldn't be completely mortified to have someone other than Nurse Egg stop over. I still don't have any furniture which I am somewhat moderately morbidly self-conscious about, but I am planning to purchase a small futon or sofa in the near future. Right now, I have two lawn chairs for a lawn I no longer have and two desk chairs - one I'm sitting in now and the one I bought simply to steal replacement wheels from.

That's a funny story. I forgot to buy a mat for my desk chair to roll around on and that resulted in first one, then all, of the wheels snapping off. I had figured out a way to absolve myself for simply stealing replacements from the store I purchased it at - citing quality assurance and customer service as well as efficiency for meeting my needs and my personal satisfaction as the key talking points - but I became exceptionally paranoid and ended up buying the cheapest, compatible chair and simply using the wheels from it.

I'm fairly certain the person who kept following me around was a secret shopper and I'm nearly as certain that she had mace or something in her handbag.

Anyway, enough about my damn chairs and lack of other practical furniture.

I have been making much progress as far as my financial situation this month. I have paid off half the balance on both of my credit cards. I have completely paid the gangsta technician who restored the front of my Jeep after that unfortunate incident with a deer last winter. I have canceled the one online course I was enrolled in - I have serious doubts about how legitimate it was and I refuse to pay for a degree that I can forge myself and do a better job of it. Anyway, as I was saying... Things are finally starting to come together in the way I had hoped they would have three months ago. Yes, my original projections were tragic and flawed. But, they weren't entirely inaccurate just over-anticipated.

You can make any word you want by simply combining two existing words with a hyphen. It's like magic, except this trick I actually do encourage you to try at home. It's fun and completely safe. Although, you might start sounding like an uneducated douche and prime bullshitter if you over-indulge. I did that one on purpose. Eat it, it's delicious.

I did well over thirty loads of laundry during the month of September. I just got the water bill. Yikes. It's fine, though. It was necessary. Some of those articles of clothing haven't seen the light of day since Texas and beyond. Some of them smelled a little like vomit. Ok, I told myself I wasn't going to share that but there it is. My entire wardrobe now smells like lilacs on a summer day, I assure you. Also, I have added to my contribution pile for Goodwill. I now have three plastic totes and a box that is actually larger than the totes. It won't all fit in my Jeep at the same time unless I remove my spare tire which I am very hesitant to do. I have a history of road-side distress. A very long and consistent history of road-side distress. But I'm feeling very charitable despite the fact that I have yet to donate any of it.

I am really, really enjoying being able to see the gross brown carpet floor of my apartment. To celebrate, I have vacuumed twice since Thursday night. I also bought a label gun so I can label all of my eerily identical storage units. I have five of them. It is impossible to find anything without opening each of these unit's three drawers. I don't like having to open fifteen drawers to find fingernail clippers or dry erase markers or whatever. It is very aesthetically pleasing but just as practically frustrating. So, labels bridge the gap and both sides of my brain are happy.

I really do need to eat something today. To be continued...?

When I'm not throwing my phone at random people, I can use it to take photos. Amazing!

Today, for your viewing pleasure, I am happy to present photos from my phone. Yay! I'll warn you in advance: besides adjusting the size of these images slightly to make them fit within my blog, I have not made any edits to them. These photos are raw, taken from life as it happened around me. That sounds exciting and a little dirty. Anyway. We will begin with some photos of Nurse Egg.



Photos of Nurse Egg jumping on a trampoline! Shocking!



I'll add that I, too, was jumping on the trampoline so that explains why nothing in these photos is in focus. Everything was in motion. From my perspective, anyway.



Here's me with extremely long hair. I'm not sure whether to call myself a hippie or an emo. I'm thinking emo is more likely. I'm not down with free love or pot.



This is my transition from emo to mohawk. I had died portions of my hair previous to shaving it all off, which produced this insane multi-colored mockery. This eventually leads to another transition to completely bald.



Here's my mother and brother on Christmas Day. We had a very strange but pleasant winter that year. No snow. In Ohio, in December, no snow. Needless, but interesting, information. They're trying to get rent money in this photo. They were completely unsuccessful but I'm pretty sure we ruined Christmas for everyone that year.



After our failed attempts to obtain past due funds from the tenants, we loitered around the property. We didn't have anything better to do. We're efficient people and we celebrate on Christmas Eve so we can do whatever the hell we please on Christmas Day. We have an understanding with Santa. We're very upfront with the whole process. No senseless sneaking around or chimney madness for us. Anyway, here's my brother displaying his best Randy Orton pose next to a fairly elaborate bird feeder. Wrestling... I'm gonna stop myself right there. Yeah. Well, it's better than ICP. Part of me dies every time I hear him proclaim to be a juggalo. So, in contrast, men in tights groping each other is a definite step up.



Here's my dog. My dog that I never named. He responded to Jackass and Dipshit with more enthusiasm than he did to Leo, which is the name the animal rescuers gave him. He got off his chain, twice, and then disappeared this summer. We didn't really bond at all, until the very end and then he was gone. I can't compete with dogs in heat. Even though I fed his mutt ass. And bathed him. And bought him an obscene amount and variety of doggy treats. Still, I can't compete.



This is a team bucket of chicken wings. Half are Arizona Ranch and half are Golden Garlic. This is the day I withdrew my boycott of all things chicken and ate more than my share of wings.



I owe it all to this guy for making that moment in my personal history possible. It was his idea to go to Quaker State - despite all my protests that chicken is the meat of the devil - and it turned out not to be the total tragedy I declared it would be - which still surprises me to this day.



Although, he honestly believes that grown men not only should wear pink shirts, but that they look manly and sexy in them. He is wrong. He is so very, very wrong. It is unnatural and wrong. If I ever tried this, I'd end up looking like a hot dog and not in a good way.



I'll close on a happier note. This is MTO Bot 5000. MTO Bot 5000 is my protege and he used his freelance gangsta technician skills to repair the busted grill on my Jeep from that unfortunate deer incident from last winter. I spent alot of time and effort grooming him to step up into management and I made that transition possible by taking the transfer to WV and freeing up some management positions at my former location. MTO Bot 5000 was not pleased with this sacrifice, but it was necessary and beneficial for everyone.

Oh. Yeah. My Bad.

Red Vehement is now open for public viewing. For real this time.

Sorry.

Say... what?

Red Vehement is now open. How delightful.

If anyone remembers erudite.dx, this is a revival and possibly a lesser version as well. I'm not convinced this format works well with blogspot, but we'll give it a go. For those of you who are confused and out of the sacred loop of long-time readers, for shame. You suck. But seriously, this third blog is a simple outlet for my more random and brief musings which will be strictly contained to one post per page with a maximum of 50 words. Unless I change it. We'll see. I think... if I remember correctly, I set the previous limit on characters including spaces. Ha. What great expectations I had back then. 50 words seems a little more sensible and appropriate, but I'm sure at some point I'll cut it down even more drastically (20 perhaps?) and you'll see the true efficiency and eloquence of a mere handful of words.

Enjoy.

Math Problems

The countdown to insanity has begun. 7 days. Actually, more like 6. No, it's a little over 5. Whatever. Let's try that again. First, we'll strike that entire botched introduction from existence by putting a line through it.


Yes, that's better. That's much better than simply erasing it. Absolutely. Wait, now I have to do the same thing to this whole section. I'm starting fresh so I can't be making comments and sarcastic observations about my last failed attempt because there supposedly wasn't one. Ok. Again with the careless edit.

The countdown to insanity is really unnecessary since I'm pretty much already there and always have been. But, in a little over 5 days, things will get really crazy. How exciting. I timed myself today and even with traffic at its worst - thank you, unmovable public school transport - it still only takes about 15 minutes to get to work. And that's without exceeding the posted speed limit! Amazing! I might only have to purchase fuel once a week. That is the best. I'm looking very forward to that.

In other news... I think I've spoken to my entire family this week at some point. I can't believe it and you definitely shouldn't. I talked to most of them. Ok, fine. I talked to more than one of them this week. I actually spoke to... 6 members of my family. No, scratch that. 7. What is my problem with basic math tonight? I honestly don't know. I've got alot on my mind or something. Anyway. I do know that this beats my previous record of I-don't-even-know which I probably achieved during a holiday or a group visit in Ohio. Everyone is various degrees of doing fine so that's lovely. Shit, I just remembered I have to write a postcard. And mail it. Soon. I'll probably do the writing of it tonight. Yeah.

I'm not sure what to say about anything else. I'm exhausted. I think I'm going to focus all of my energy on work and sleep and to hell with everything else. I am never going to unpack the boxes in this apartment. I realize that now. I've actually known that all along but I at least maintained some hope of proving myself wrong. I really don't care about keeping up appearances anymore. I don't have anything to prove to myself. I don't care either way and I already have everything I need so whatever. I've made a good deal more effort at it than I ever expected so... that's something. Maybe I'll commit Saturday to that. I don't think I'm going anywhere. I just don't feel like being social unless someone is paying me to be. I lack that sort of motivation at the moment.

Also, I hate the color blue today. I really do.

The Blue Pill

I wish. I am still playing with my layout code. I am currently changing the majority of the color scheme from teal to orange. There will still be some teal when I am done since it's part of the graphical base of the template, but I will have my links and active data accented in orange. Yay.

And I figured out the whole disappearing side menu mess. It was due to a conflict from introducing the post break feature so I will be posting everything in its entirety just like I have been. It's a shame. It saves alot of time and space. And I can even increase the number of displayed posts from 7 to possibly 15. I also like the teasing aspect of it. Cutting you off at the exact moment that something starts really getting interesting and making you reload to view the rest. Muahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahahaha.

I am a devious bastard.

Oh well. Perhaps you'll see that elsewhere. Hint, hint. But not today.

Anyway, just a little update to let you know where I'm at with my techie endeavor. I'll get back at it, then.

[edit] I also justified all possible text. The jagged right edges of paragraphs make me really, really anxious. Not as anxious as several duplicate sets of keys, but almost. [/edit]

Achievement Unlocked

I'm silly.

Context Clues and Shotguns.

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'm finding it harder to be a gentleman every day.

...and now for an actual update.

Work is going well. I have not been bored. I have made a difference, in my own way, at each location I visited. Made my mark, so to speak. Or erased the marks of others, when appropriate. It's been really good for me.

If I hadn't left Ohio, I'd still be there. Ten years later and still hating it. That's assuming I wouldn't have had a total mental breakdown at some point brought on by the combined effects of my proximity to key members of my family, zero opportunity for career advancement, a schedule with a disturbingly unbalanced ratio of work to sleep, and continued financial woe. Perhaps I should give you a more concrete example of how life in WV compares to life in OH.

People I worked with for three weeks in WV were more disappointed to see me go than people I worked with for three years in OH. If my sudden departure had the impact on the employees in OH that it did on the employees in WV, it might not have been so easy to leave. I still would have left, obviously, but I would have thought twice about it. Seriously reconsidered it, too. Weighed the pros against the cons. All of it.


I am increasingly surprised by the number of people who leave their vehicles running with unlocked doors and completely rolled down windows while they run into the market or gas station or post office or where ever. If I ever found myself unemployed and homeless in WV, I would have no trouble at all with pursuing a better life through grand theft auto. It's amazing. I don't even leave my Jeep unlocked while I'm in it. It's absurd. How can this be? I have no idea and I refuse to ask.

I still haven't decided whether I'm going home tomorrow or not. I would like to get it over with if I could. That sounded horrible and appropriate. I don't know. I can honestly say - with exception of Nurse Egg - that I hadn't thought about those people for weeks. Except when Nurse Egg would say something that would remind me of the time... blah blah blah. Fill in the blank. It would be easier going back into that mess if I could pour candle wax into my ears and not have to deal with- I can't even say. I can guess. I can guess with disturbing-almost-psychic accuracy, but I still won't say. But, I'm not sure I could handle my thoughts being overwhelmed by the aroma of sugar cookies for two days and I don't own unscented candles. What would be the point of that? Aesthetics without functionality? Insanity.

Speaking of which, I purchased drapes for Apartment H about a week ago. I put one set of them up in the living room where I inevitably pass out while trying desperately to catch up on all my recorded programming. It's impossible. I'm not motivated enough to make that happen. Back to my point, they are amazing at blocking out the light and I can't help but sleep during the day. Even when I work in the mornings, I come home and pass out immediately. I usually end up waking up on my own sometime after midnight. Today is the exception. Today I've been blessed with insomnia. Probably brought on by stress. What stress? Refer to previous post for that answer. Which is fine because I'll end up doing more around my apartment in an effort to wear myself down and trick my brain into shutting down by way of total exhaustion. Good times.

I have less than two weeks until my grand opening. Very exciting. I am going to be busier than... I'll refrain from using a metaphor I overheard today. It's delightful, I assure you. To counteract that, I have the next three days off. It's funny. I'm just as busy on my days away from work as I am while at work. I can't do everything I want to do in that small time frame. If I ever do manage to get some sleep, I will make my decision when I wake up. That decision will be based solely on what time it happens to be. If it's past noon, I'm not going home. If it isn't past noon, I might go home if I feel strong enough to deal it. It? Them. Ok then. Even if I do go home, I'm going to set my agenda in advance. I'm going to craft a time line and print three copies of it. I'm going to follow it precisely. I will take a sleeping bag and sleep in my empty house. I don't need to stay in Kingsgrave House any longer than necessary to weave an amusing post for Robin. I will visit my former co-workers but I will only stay an hour and I will only stop in on my way out of town. That way I have very aggressive motivators to get me out of there. Going home. Leaving town. Making decent travel time.

It sounds like I'm making the trip home, doesn't it? I probably am. God help me.

Gut en Haben. Indeed.

I can almost see the future and it is wonderful. It will be wonderful, someday. When I get all my debts resolved and I've managed to get my life in order - on the day that I finally grow up, basically - I'm going to jump out of a plane in Orange, Virginia. Ever since hearing about Bridge Day, I've been researching what it would take to get me on the bridge and base jumping like a madman. Well, it will take about $4k. That's a conservative estimate. That will provide all the lessons, equipment, and plane rides to get me all the skydiving pre-requisites to obtain my professional license and allow me to participate in Bridge Day 2011. Registration is in October, so this year is a wash and next year won't allow enough time to complete all 50 or so jumps realistically - not to mention my continued financial situation which would make blowing nearly a year of rent on skydiving unreasonable. Regardless, it hardly matters. I'm not doing that. Well, I'm probably not doing that. But, when I do get everything settled and there are more zeroes than negatives in my ledger, I will be jumping out of a plane. Once. That's my pact with myself. I will reward my own success with an intense, death-defying challenge on gravity itself. I think that's poetic. Sort of. Not to mention it will give me enough of a taste that I'll know one way or the other whether it's for me or not. Then, I can go completely insane and invest a year of rent into repeatedly recreating the plight of Icarus. Now that is poetic.

Other than that, I'm taking it a day at a time and living life. It is what it is. It is what I've allowed it to be and what I've worked so hard to make it.

I'm satisfied. I shouldn't have to explain how impossible that simple statement has been for me to truthfully admit, but I finally have and I'm not going to stop savoring it until the taste burns a hole in my tongue and the last crumbs turn to ashy stone in my starved innards.

That was colorful. Enjoy!

I don't need a 12 step program. I need restraints and a sedative.

I went a little crazy Wednesday. Maybe I went a lot crazy Wednesday. Insane, possibly.

I'm much, much better now. Sleeping helped. Ranting and raving helped.

By the time I finished writing my crazy Wednesday post, I didn't need it anymore. I post it anyway because it was good therapy and it helped. It also filled all the empty space with a text-based rage which is useful for evaluation and resolution. Plus, it kept me from wringing my hands or punching something. That post has now been replaced by this one featuring movie stills of crazy people re-enacting my ordeal in living color.

I also used the telephone on Wednesday and into Thursday. That helped immensely. It was wonderful talking to people on the phone that weren't affiliated with any credit bureaus or debt collection agencies. I forgot that was possible. It was lovely. I smoked while I talked and between calls. I like to smoke.

Now, I'm just sitting here and relaxing. Recovery is a gradual process and I'm gradually recovering from batshit crazy. I giggle a little bit every time I say that. Batshit crazy. That's crazy. Crazy like me.

You just stepped in it.

Yeah, it's been a great day. A really great day.

I'm playing this wonderful game with Sprint right now. It's the same game I've been playing with them for about a year now. Here's how it works:

Let's say I get my bill on the THIRD day of every month. The payment for the bill is due on the TWENTIETH day of every month. That gives me a little over TWO weeks to pay it or SEVENTEEN days if you prefer. I make immediate payment because I do not want my phone service to be disrupted. It takes Sprint TWO to THREE business days to post the payment to my Sprint account, although funds are IMMEDIATELY removed from my bank account. So, payment is posted no later than the TENTH (that is the longest possible time it could take Sprint to post my payment and that is only when a three day holiday occurs directly after the THIRD).

To summarize:

Bill received: 9/03
Bill paid in full: 9/10
Bill due: 9/20

So I not only pay on time but I pay in advance, more than a week before my due date. What does Sprint do to reward me for this? On the TWENTIETH (my due date), regardless of whether I've paid or not, they deactivate my account. Awesome right? Yeah, I know. I am very, very aware. Actually, the only way I've found to keep them from deactivating my account is to NOT pay them.

This would all be a little easier if I could just contact them and ask them to reactivate my account. But that's a hard trick to play when your only phone doesn't work. Because you paid the bill for it. On time. Gasp! The shock and horror.

Why?

My contract is over in December and I can not wait. Can NOT wait!

I love you, Verizon. See you soon.

Life INSIDE Apartment H.

First, the dream. Then... the reality.




It's worse than nightmare. Ok, so it's not as bad as I've made it seem in this photo. But, I'm toying with photo effects and taking you on a tour of the horrors inside Apartment H. Visual effects are to be expected. But, since I shocked you so blatantly with my Old Time Picture, I will help you re-balance yourself with something calming and peaceful.



Oh no! We're in the Matrix! So much for calming. This bonsai tree could be a vile Agent sent by the machines to destroy us all... unless we unleash our kung fu. Ok. I was at Target and I needed something to counteract all the blah surrounding me in the apartment. Now... something amazing!



This is not a trick photo. This door is actually closed. I discovered - while growing increasingly frustrated as I tried to organize my immediate environment - that with enough rage or determination, I can close some of the doors in my apartment. This is the door to the closet in my bedroom and is not a fluke. Observe:



Yes! This is an entirely different door. (Same room.) I have not been able to master any of the other three doors in the apartment. But my success here only warrants further testing. Now, back to the horror. What's behind this door?



Due to the graphic nature of the image, I have pixelated it beyond comprehension. I should point out that what you're seeing is not merely a massive pile of clothing that towers to waist level and expands in every direction. There is buried somewhere within that mass of fabric a bed as well. That makes me feel a little better about it. Also, not opening the door works just as nicely. I have begun to cut back on the size of my wardrobe, but we will get into that later. Now, let's approach this from another angle.




If you were curious, this is how things look when I'm in the closet.



Mostly unpacked boxes and books in milk crates line the wall of my would-be office. I've dug out the components and reference materials as I require them. Other than that, I must wait until I can devise some ingenious system of both organization and storage in order to meet my limited space availability and insanely high aesthetic requirements. I wouldn't bother going in this room if not for-



-this. Yes, another Matrix throw back. Since I've already opened the door to recycling photo effects, there's nothing stopping me now. This is where the magic happens and I should note that my keyboard is back-lit in blue so this isn't too unrealistic.



My home office workstation. Actually, it would be more accurate to call it my home storage room work station, I suppose. Anyway. I spend most waking hours in this very corner of my apartment. Well, ok... I spend most waking hours at work, followed by time at this desk, followed by sleep, and then commuting filling out the rest of the pie chart. I imagine time in pie charts. Just a fun fact for you to consider. Moving on then.



Now, back to the clothing issue. I have come to realize that unless I master the ability to fold both space and time - folding time isn't actually necessary but it compliments the other so well and I firmly insist upon obtaining both for my purposes, I will never be able to house all of my various articles of clothing unless I greatly reduce their numbers. So, that is what I have done. These three very colorful totes are filled with relics of fashion that are destined to be recycled by society and quite probably worn in the near future by some emo kids. It's not nearly the half of my whole that I had committed, but it's a serious dent in the dollhouse. And once I determine there is nothing even remotely resembling a winter season here - at least not compared to that of Ohio, I will have three times as much to donate in February. If I get especially ambitious, I will rummage through these totes before carting them off to Goodwill and post an unfashionable attire show for you. Here's a brief glimpse at what that would look like:



Hawaiian shirts! Vertical and horizontal stripes! Old work uniforms! Oh my!



Thank you for stepping into Apartment H with me. Perhaps I'll have the place completely sorted out in the not-too-distant future and you can have a better look. And I promise to lay off all the photo effects.

Life OUTSIDE Apartment H.

Today, I thought it might be fun to take you on a tour around town. (Since I have the day off and have been dying to do a photo blog lately.) But before we begin, a word of caution as we head for the front door. Observe:

Well, that's not going to stop us. It usually stops me. Actually, I don't even go near the door and unless it's a work day, I am completely oblivious that there even is a door that leads outside my apartment.

I've skipped alot here, but you'll see some of that on the return. Here we pass under three sets of railroad tracks as we leave the commercial area of St. Albans. Trust me, going under is way better than going over. Going over means seeing nothing but clear sky across my windshield and hoping there's nothing on the other side for me to come down on. The inclined approach to the railroad tracks is almost too extreme for me and possibly a serious pedestrian safety concern.

This river is the reason why I chose St. Albans. Bare with me. I took several photos of it.

This rocket structure is right next to a children's park which is right next to the river and a highway. Awesome. At least the posted speed limit is reduced here.

Yikes. I don't think so. In the distance you can see the massive bridge that crosses the river which divides St. Albans from So. Chaz (South Charleston). Ask Nurse Egg about how much fun it is to be on that bridge any time in the afternoon. Especially after five. Which is why I take an alternate route. Also, the other way is shorter. But she spent a great deal of time directly in the center of that two lane bridge wedged and compacted by all the other furious working drones of So. Chaz. It made her very, very happy.

Here we are at the recently opened Sonic of St. Albans. I am very excited that there is a Sonic less than a mile from my apartment. Very, very excited. Everyday very excited. Ok, no. But I frequent.

Again, we pass beneath the trio of train tracks back into historic St. Albans.

Which would you choose in a crisis? Or even not a crisis? Me, I turn right here. I sleep very well at night, by the way.

Some of the lovely architecture of historic St. Albans. Two things about the last photo: I do not live in this building and the road is exactly as fucked up as it appears to be.

Another bridge. It never manifested itself before, but I have a serious thing for bridges. I don't care so much for the water that usually lies beneath them, which actually just serves to further my infatuation with bridges. Anyway, I cross three bridges everyday as I make my way into or out of St. Albans. It's a very bridge-friendly location.

Ok. These stairs start two feet from the road and ascend to an unknown height through all of these trees to the top of this massive hill. Someone not only lives up there... which just breaks my brain in half, honestly. But, I've actually seen them check the mail. Apparently, coupons and the electric bill were not enough of an incentive for somebody because that second set of stairs hasn't been used in quite awhile. I have to agree with the man at the top of Stairway #2. F that. Post box is the way to go. Also, where do they keep their vehicles? If there is an alternative way to reach those peeks - which I have to believe there is - why then the staircase madness? Why? Do you see now why it breaks my brain in half?! That's only one of the millions of questions that haunt me every time I drive by those stairs. This is probably the most interesting thing I've discovered in my short time here in WV. I really hope it stays that way.

And finally, we return to the safety of Apartment H. To eat Sonic and watch the third season of Dexter. Life is very, very good in Apartment H today! Stay tuned. My next photo blog will be a guided of tour INSIDE Apartment H. Start getting excited now.