now hiring
26 September 2003
ha, couldn't resist putting this up in whatever bootlegged form i could manage.
If THIS is you, hook me up! Well technically its me, but i mean if you fit in the appropriate parts, geez, what?!?! yea.
well that took way too long so after doing that and taking a big step i needed to take in another area, i'm opting out of content tonight and headed for the bed. And all you people who already had plans tonight or couldnt or whatnot, you suck! yeh! =) nite.
god save the concierges
25 September 2003
wow, its only 12:45. I've got the day off and crak has joyously pointed out my lack of blog feed. So in order to hedge the loss of some of my most prized subscribers, i'm updating. Ok, i don't have subscriptions but you can still buy one if you'd like, just send me money and i'll add you to the list. *coff*
My days of late are monotonous, repititious and sleepy. I go to work to study. That's it. I study for 8 hours on end minus one relieving lunch break, and then return home. I've already adressed the traffic phenomena surrounding atlanta so i shan't go back to that. Oh, speaking of traffic i ran into an accident yesterday morning as i left for work. Ever since i've begun working in cobb i've been honing my departure times, routes and intimidation skills in order to find the optimal course to work. So yesterday i was all excited cuz i had a new plan: leave later! Of course! by the time i get to atlanta, people will already be at work and the interstates will be clearing! So i hurried to get ready for work, then i chilled until i was 'leaving later'. Jumped in the car, motored out of the neighborhood, playing dodge-car with the DOT workers attempting to repave(good god they've been repaving my relatively small neighborhood for 3 weeks now) the place. Finally got to the edge of the neighborhood through the sea of orange vests and manhandle the gas peddle to the floor. Then the brake. I'm stopped, not even 50 feet from my neighborhood, in endless traffic. *sigh*
What was weird about this was that it wasn't just traffic, there was an accident about 10 cars up or so, apparantly just happened as i was coming out of the neighborhood. I saw some woman swooning around before she sat down and collapsed. Maybe two minutes later a fire truck showed, followed by police and an ambulance w/in the next 5 minutes. Weird because it wasn't really a bump or nudge, but rather one hell of a smash from what i could tell. The nose of the car that got hit was perpendicular to the ground and then angled back like a big triangle to the rear bumper. The truck that did the hitting had his right side curled under him like a burrito. I saw all this as i passed and it kinda set me in a somber mood for the day. Hope the folks were aight, they put someone in the ambulance w/o the bodybag so i'm gonna assume she's aight. .... where was i going with this?.... uhm... PASS
Work comes fully equipped! We even have a refrigerator and microwave... in the filing room. Now i had to wonder about this when surat(i dunno how to spell his name) pointed me to the "kitchen". Its what i would guess was intended as a closet/storage area. So it became the filing room. It grew to accept kitchen appliances and now we have an electronic nuclear radiation plant sitting right in the middle of all our paper documentation. I keep seeing flames in the back of my mind. We also come inclusive with one dobbins air force base. At random points during the day, we're treated to the roaring fwoosh of fighter jets flying about 3 or 4 millimeters past my window. sweet! So yesterday after one of those big C-130 super-ass-loud-and-rumbly thingies pulled its 48'th lap around the building, i decided to go to lunch.
My job is professional dress, all the time. So i kinda stuck out when i show up in a suit at mickey d's. Hell i didn't care, i'da knocked over the federal reserve for a double quarter pounder with cheese about then. I think this mcD's belonged to the construction workers union or something cuz i was about the only person there who didnt have ratty jeans, a dirty ass shirt, tanned skin, dirty ass hair and tools overflowing from my pockets. Whatever, i got my burger, everyone leave me alone. *chomp* "this tastes kinda.. funny" i thought as i ground the imitation beef between my teeth. As i went for the 2nd bite, i noticed why. As i pulled the burger towards my mouth, a bright red flash of light bright enough to poke my retinas out gouged me. my burger was raw and redder than an albino just back from a trip to the sun. So i took my burger back up to the manager who watched me come and knew what was about to happen. So i pointed out the colorful attributes of my meal and she responded with a happy roll of the eye and a "yeh". Apparantly its not kosher in the culture up there to be picky. So they brought me another sandwich, and despite the thoughts of what poison may have lied beneath the bun, i ate it anyways. It was good, i didn't care.
So after i got off work yesterday i went to the wyndham garden hotel up in marietta. I was chillin there for the night cuz i had to take my insurance tests at 7:30 and i wasn't bout to get up at 4 at home to make the trip. Mr. Stupendous behind the desk was perhaps the most irritating human being i've ever laid ears upon. He had that aristocratic exaggerating sliding kinda voice that one might picture a perturbed butler with. Oh well. He did try to make a joke, i think, even if i didn't get it. So i went up to my room, glorious room 310. As my elevator regurgitated me, i was met by a kid, prolly not more than 5 who thought that he was in the disney show on ice. Spinning indefinite circles around the elevator area. Where were his parents, there was only one hall and i saw no one up or down the hall. Did they forget to put him on the elevator and get halfway to houston before realizing it? I dunno, as i walked away i looked back and saw captain nausea get shut in an elevator door as he was losing his footing from being dizzy. "ow!" he said and kinda jumped back, unfortunately "back" was into the elevator, and the doors closed, whisking him off to an undisclosed location. I couldn't help but laugh at the situation. My conscience got the better of me tho, i called the desk when i got to the room and told them that goofy from the disney ice show had escaped and was loose in the building.
After watching some arnold schwarzennegar movie (an old one i had never seen before) on usa, i just kinda hung out in my room the rest of the night. One thing i hate about hotels is the markup. Not just the room, gotta pay for movies, gotta pay for everything, i even paid an "occupation tax" on my room. OCCUPATION TAX! what the hell am i paying for before the occupation tax?! I thought i reserved the room to occupy it for the night, but then i have an occupation tax on top of that. WTF! *sigh* oh well, so after browsing the selection of movies, prime time shows (yes even these were extra) and the adult film selections, i set my alarm for 4:30am and hit the lights.
One can get a ton done in a day when they're up at 4:30am. So i went to go take my life, accident & sickness insurance test. 100 questions. I got to this place and they take you back to this big room. Its dark, its quiet, its cold. So some spastic guy sat me at this little monitor and whispered some stuff to me. I couldn't hear him, he was too quiet. Looking around i noticed that we were the only 2 in the testing room. Yet the whispering continued, apparantly he didnt want to disturb the ghosts among us who were also taking exams. oookay. FWOOSH! 100 questions and 35-40 minutes later i'm done. But you can "mark" questions for review, and after i was finished i had 72 questions marked for review. ouch. prolly shoulda taken my time the first time through. So i went through a 2nd time, brought the marked q's down to about 25, then 15 a third time, then the 4th time i just said ok to whatever answers i had previously marked and thought "to hell with it". Spastic-friend comes in and takes me out to the front, takes my picture and hands me a piece of paper and says "you passed". He couldn't have seemed more dismayed by the fact that i had passed if he had tried. Gee thanks for your enthusiasm there buddy. woohaw.
This blog is too long, i'm officially retiring the september 25th 2003 blog. *BAM* closed.
Francois, Espanol, Ruskie, but i can speak english!!!
17 September 2003
Wow, I so have no time all of a sudden. I'm doing this training thingie for my life, accident and sickness insurance exam. This, i'm afraid, is much like trying to speak any of the above languages for the first time. My god this crap is complicated, i just thought there were simple little plans but uh... no. *rubs throbbing temples*
People in my class are pretty slick, so far i've buddied up best with some smooth dude from venezuela who prolly gets more chicks than hugh heffner, and some older puerto rican fellow. I find myself going to lunch with them every day, and every day i find myself in moments of helpless abandon when their english slips stealthily into strings of spanish. "hey i took spanish in high school" i say stupidly as the both kinda look at me with a "what the hell" look on their face, then go back to their gibberish. Don't misunderstand, there's no tension between us, in fact we get along quite well, minus the language barrier. Problem is, myself and the other "pure americans"(take no political impact on this phrase) just kinda stand around looking at each other when these language storms brew up. Not only that, but I've now run across three different fellows who speak all english, spanish, and french. Trilinguals!! what the hell! I'm jealous, i wish i had that kinda knowledge and experience. And meanwhile myself and the other american meatheads went around kinda crosseyed and confused half the time.
Oh well, its all fun and, it would seem, the laughter is with everyone rather than at anyone (minus the poor guy in the front who has been labeled "theres one in every class" man). So the diversity in this room is incredible. I've only spoken moderately with about 7-8 of these folks and i've run across, venezuelan, puerto rican, russian, british columbian, french, haitian, english, hobbit, elvish, and even an 81 year old fellow who was a POW in a nazi prison camp in ww2, liberated by the russians (seriously!).
Speaking of russian, there seems to be issues with our 'teacher' and russian women. Apparantly his last (3rd) wife was a russian girl who offered him the world, with a bit of accent (you've gotta admit, accents are instant brownie points on the sexy-scale). Apparantly after 5 months of marriage, she turned into a russian psycho bitch and went nuts, while he figured out that she was just marrying him for special citizenship privileges. Ha! Well needless to say the russian chick in our class didn't find that too funny, but she didn't say much except give him one of those evil russian stares. Kinda coo, been trying to get to know her a bit, but she kinda plays dodge-humans wherever she goes. Shy perhaps... wonder if her name is on mccarthy's list. But hey, i found an alternative with another russian (well we all kinda guessed russian) girl that worked at the vinings grill. "A 10! a 10! a f'n 10!" as eric would say.
Oh yes, atlanta traffic. How i love the epileptic flashing of taillights, the repetitive rocking of stop-and-go braking, the moving roadblock that confines you to a 7x10 slab of concrete which you'd not dare even attempt to move out of. Of course, your slab is of public access. If a neighboring vehicle should find the necessity to execute an invasion of your slab and deems an occupation necessary, there's no choice but to surrender it or face the consequences. On the way home tonight I witnessed a woman fail to surrender her slab, prolly about 5 cars up and in the lane to my left. She was promptly met with the rear bumper of a jeep grand cherokee. Luckily for her this was at 20mph and not 85mph(what i can tell is the average around here). Now let me draw your attention from the action here and point back to the fact that this was 20mph. We only move 20mph on 75 for one reason. Its clogged up. So here we are, happy to top out at a blurringly quick 20mph when ms. this-is-my-lane decided to stand her ground with the jeep grand cherokee. Now, being jammed in a "get off my ass" position, lifting the rear tires of the jeep off the ground slightly, our lucky couple has effectively rendered the fast lane stagnant! It was interesting to see. A warm fuzzy feeling makes me happy that it was not me. Of course, despite having 'seen' this, i of course, "didnt see chit!" and continued on my way home. Then passed a police car in traffic about 100ft ahead of the accident, who had no idea it was there. ahhh police. So far every day I'll pass at least 3 police cars running radar, usually past old dixie highway. And without fail, every day on the way home, around northside drive there are at least 3-5 cops with people pulled over. It kinda makes me wish for a police chase. Of course i heard on the traffic reports around 7:15am that, apparantly that show was on georgia 400, unfortunately not where i could witness such a spectacle. boo urns(?!?!?!).
omg its 10:09pm!! past my bedtime, i must rest because my eyeballs are trying to secede from the rest of my head i think. Eyes must be closed to prevent this treachory, and thus i'm off to combat this. nite.
I'm sorry, could you repeat that?
05 September 2003
Uhm, as it turns out after all, i ended up getting hired for that investment representative job i was talkin bout a couple weeks ago. For some reason, captain achievement, my future boss, picked me out of about the initial dozen people or so. What is strange is, i didn't lie, didn't dress-up my potential, didn't go out of my way to seem like i would be the best pick, mostly i just tried to be me, and i was. And this guy still picked me. hmm. Feels even better than having raised my gpa from a 1.44 to a 3.51! ouch.
Basically what this means is that I'm gonna be putting in loads and loads of work for little pay to begin, but the balance will shift as time passes. That's the plan anyway. So over the next few weeks, or months, or even couple of years, i may disappear for a whle. I figure that if the hours are going to be kicking my ass, then I might as well kick a little ass in return, so i aim to make this work well. I'll probably be consumed with it for a bit. But this also means that if you've ever spoken to me, in the next couple of months you'll probably be hearing from me about some investment opportunites.
I just hope i can make captain achievement proud, great guy, but seems like an extremely serious businessman with extraordinarily high standards. This may be my break tho, we'll see. I go back monday, 3 days from now, so i may or may not post again soon, i'll have to see how this all plays out. See ya around. =)
Hot sticky sweet!
01 September 2003
Picture this: You're at home alone, its late, you're wide awake and there's no other person within audial range of you. What do you do? After exploring this mystery of life for nearly a fully uninterrupted minute, i've decided that the music must be cranked as the night is ripe for harvesting. I'm sure the dogs are completely furious with me now as I've kept them up for hours so far.
I've always been a bit of a gamer myself. Some folks know this, some don't. Particularly over the past few years i've drawn a liking to online games on which i can establish "online relationships". These are the things you hear about that are completely anonymous, like that movie "you've got mail". You find someone, or a group that you enjoy playing the game with, and it gets personal, yet completely anonymous the entire time. But anyway, this group of folks i play with occasional has pointed out this online radio station, developed exclusively for this game i play sometimes. Its called eve-radio. If you have winamp, try listening for a few. What's interesting about this is you can talk to the dj's in real-time while in the game and request songs and such. This is both risky and enjoying. Why risky? Tonight alone i've heard more variety of music than i've ever heard in my entire life at once. For example a while ago, some poor fool requested the fraggle rock theme. They played it. I've heard b-52's, snow white dwarf song, green jelly, pearl jam, chili peppers, dmx, mozart, and just about everything inbetween. Its a painful case of overload. I'm magically drawn to listen on winamp even while i do other things during the day. Right now Thomas Dolby-she blinded me with science is playing and as much as i hate the song, i don't mind listening. Gah! But yes, i now remember why i love music, must keep... listening...
I've got bad teeth. Lets use the metaphor of teeth to the olympics. If my teeth were in the olympics, they'd be no michael johnson, or tara lipinski or jackie joyner-kersee. My teeth would be the christopher reeves of the international olympic games. They'd be the one moving the electric wheelchair around the track at 4mph while the hurdles popped me in the forehead, knocking them over as i relentlessly power over the conquered hurdles as if they were mere speedbumps on the highway to the gold. (Billy Idol - Rebel Yell plays in the background) I could probably crack a tooth on pudding or whipped cream given the appropriate application of pressure and angle. But this has never deterred me from any challenging food that i may come across. Think of all the dangerous foods. Things like taffee, hard candy, ice, pens or pencils, ribs, potato chips turned the wrong way, or stale just-about-anything. These kinds of things are what one expects to encounter problems on. Today i decided to eat a candy bar. Nestle Crunch. This is one of my childhood favorites and has never really been able to escape my attempts at nestleistic genocide. So i put it in my mouth. Et tu brute? Yes, this long time friend and ally of mine has turned only to stab me in my back and hurt me where it hurts the most, my molar. My molars are weird. They aren't "normal" by the standards of teeth. They don't align exactly vertically like the rest of my teeth, but somewhat angled out as if they meant to bore their way through my cheeks to freedom. Does anyone else have those back teeth like that? hrm, anyway, because of this quirky angle and my treacherous nestle crunch, my tooth snapped like a cold and fresh carrot when it breaks. Initially i suspected a bad rice krispy. You know how sometimes those rice thingies they put in candy turn out to be those little burned black rocks that aren't meant to be chewed but just bypassed through the digestive process? Yea so i was wallowing this sucker around on my tongue until i could guide it to the forward part of my mouth. Rescuing this rice krispy from its intended doom, i discovered that it wasn't a rice krispie at all, but a hunk of glowing white, hopelessly lost tooth enamel. One solid piece. I'm debating on the use of superglue. It can't be that hard, just glue and smoosh it back up in there right? Then i can brag to my dentist about how i did just as good of a job as he did! Of course i can also see going to the dentist with my tooth, finger, cheek and tongue all stuck together in the same spot. yay!
Mowed the lawn yesterday. This act enduces about as much pleasure on me as a daily caning would. Cutting grass is easy. Mowing the lawn is an entirely different cadre of challenges. You see, people who have flat and open lawns are grass-cutters. They get on their favorite john deers and ride fairly predictable patterns across their lawn. Shortly after they park their prized machine, wipe the sweat from their brow and heave a deep sigh as though they'd just built the statue of liberty with their own bare hands. These are the same people who "work on" their lawnmowers. You know what i'm saying, those who upgrade the engine, put better tires, wider-reaching blades, chrome wheels, paint and decals on their lawnmower. Why do they have these things and lawn mowers don't? Because while the grass cutters are using their time to beef up their mowers, the lawn mowers are still enduring the challenges that accompany a finely mowed lawn. My lawn is not exactly the flattest you've ever seen. Out in the front yard is a hill that i used to use as a ramp when i was kid, in order to get up enough speed to do whatever ridiculously stupid stunt we had planned(or lack thereof) for us at the bottom. Lawn mowers endure obstacles and challenges. These 45 degree hills, riding through branches that act as a guillotine if one hasn't scouted ahead, man-eating spiders who plant traps in the most unsuspecting of spots and an entire society of insectoids who rise up in arms at the very sputter of a choking lawnmower engine.
So i went about my normal mowing pattern, which is perhaps the most unorthodox and abstract of patterns ever created. Oh, let me jump in and just say that my mower has brakes about as strong as pee-wee herman lifting a buick. However at one point i was pulling donuts on the hill, trying to murder an elusive blade of grass, when my peewee brakes failed me yet again and i began my radial descent down the hill. I realized i was in trouble when i passed probably about 20mph. With the brakes fully depressed, my fingers wringing the life out of the wheel, and me bouncing all over the place as i motored uncontrollably down this hill, i made a break directly for the bottom of the hill. But near the bottom i hit a funny hole that did none other, than turn me to the side a bit. Can you imagine what happened next? I was up on two wheels, mower rolling, blades churning as i hit the bottom of the hill. Instinctively, i abandoned ship. Diving like an action star from an exploding jetliner, i hit the ground and rolled away from the mower, fully expecting its to roll over on me, mowing my ass to hell and back. It didn't. Upon looking back to re-evaluate the situation, i saw the mower had, without the added burdon of my wieght and higher center of gravity, regained itself and was now on direct collision course with the mailbox. If I rode horses, I'd imagine i could just jump on top of a horse from behind like you see in those old western movies, cuz thats what i did. Flying over my steed i landed with a mere second or two to avert disaster. Jamming the wheel to the right, I guided the machine away from the helpless mailbox... right into the middle of the street. While the chaos of the moment didn't allow me to plan for passing traffic, luckily passing traffic had time to plan for me as they had witnessed the entire incident while approaching from down the road. It was a neighbor i knew and was on good terms with, so nothing bad resulted, although i did feel a bit foolish and emberassed as they had rolled down the window, chuckled a bit and said something blatenly disguisting such as "those hills can be steep there, eh?" I said nothing, and rode away up the driveway, hoping that he'd mistake me for my father. Perhaps later I'll proceed on spiders that hang 20 feet above the ground between trees, with god knows what intentions.
Ok i'm getting all kinds of weird problems here, i think whoever owns this website is trying to kick me off or take over or something so uh, I'm gonna get off before i piss someone off.
round 2
28 August 2003
Well remember that interview i went to that i didnt expect to get called back to? Well they called me back. Although i've calmed quite a bit since the phone call a while ago, there were some scary moments of moshing with the walls and rolling around on the floor that probably would most likely be associated with a hyperactive lunatic in his padded cell. I must admit i wasn't expecting a call back, out of the dozen or so of us, he plainly told us he would only choose one or two to return. Not getting kicked off the island after the first episode is a bit exciting. So we'll see, i'm pretty much sold on this job, they just need to tell me i can start. Although its weird cuz i'll have to go back to school for like 6 weeks, take 4 different exams and be licensed in each. That means $$$ and lotsa work before i can even start. Bah, who cares this should rock. woooo!
day by day
27 August 2003
It seems that so much is happening lately, yet so little to recall. As soon as I finish this ginger ale and check my email, i'll begin.
Went to that interview a little while ago. Perhaps I wasn't entirely prepared for the degree of asskissing that I should have come armed with, but it was interesting nonetheless. Located off cobb parkway, i decided i should leave a good bit early and arrived about 30 minutes before the meeting. I went inside and they sat me in one of those conference rooms with the big huge table, leather seats and map on the wall with little pin-flags indicating what areas of the country that they've thus far conquered. I saw the guy heading the meeting glance at that thing every time he mentioned money. The slideshow of the company looked more like one of those 20-second old fashioned films that you turn the crank on and it flips the pictures real fast. But that wasn't the important thing. I got to learn all about mr. uh, guy-that-was-hosting-the-meeting. Apparantly he's obscenely rich and has so much money that he can put his 8th grade daughter to a $14,000 a year private school. I on the other hand would just like $14,000 period. Oh well, if i hear from them before end of business day friday, i've got a 2nd interview, otherwise i still suck. I'd give this a generous 5 out of 10 on the chance board.
Matt got me into searching for people online. I dunno why, but its kindof addicting. Go to google and just type in the name of whomever and see if they show up ("jeff oakman" gives you this blog btw, *coff coff*). Its funny, i've found a couple people that i went to grade school with that i never expected to get anywhere, but they have. Kinda saddening when i compare some of their achievements to my own. Of no matter though. Interesting as all the people I'd ever been curious about their futures, I can't seem to find on here. For example the 8th grade cheerleader whom one would be more than happy to communicate with these days as opposed to those. "hey its me, that krazy idiot dood that used to follow you around with the funny quirk and tom sawyer hat yeehawww! wasaaaaa!" Yea that would go over well. Nobody i've known is famous yet tho, hrm too bad.
Things here are their normal drab self. I've developed a bit of a sore throat thats been following me around for a few days now, especially upon waking. There's a funny blue beetle gallavanting around here somewhere as well. It keeps emerging in obvious places at a distance, so that by the time I can close that distance, its retreated into an untrackable location. It taunts me especially at night, just night before last it ran out from under my keyboard while i was typing. Had its scare tactic not worked so well, i would have apprehended the insect then. But i didn't. They're smarter than we give them credit, of this i'm sure, but we will meet soon and I will have the last laugh.
Speaking of scare tactics, has anyone seen that show? Its on the sci-fi channel at 11pm i think (dunno which days) and I saw it by accident once last week. Its cool stuff. The basic premise is that someone sets up a friend in a situation that would normally frighten the bageezus out of any sane person and watch their reaction. The only problem i've had with this is that they usually end it rather early instead of taking the scare to the next level. I suppose this is for liability reasons, in some cases if they went to the next level someone would likely get into a violent self-defense mode and accidently slay an actor here and there. oops. For example there was one victim who worked with a news crew as an assistant or something so they set her up with the news crew interviewing some serial killer. The staged interview was at night out in the middle of nowhere, where supposedly this killer had slain 13 people. They continue with the horror stories until this guy and his police escort arrive. The killer takes a particular liking to the victim (adds to the personal connection thing) and keeps taunting her while another woman interviews him. Eventually she asks a question surrounding the killer's rumored esp and telekinetic powers and such, and while they wait for him to answer, he looks around a bit then screams something and all the lights and power go off. A struggle is heard and the lights come on with the two slain cops, and the killer holds the interviewer hostage asking for the victim to come out. etc etc, those kinda situations. Yeh i just lost all will to explain this any further. Go watch it once, it can be cool and can be kooky.
I must go get my benedryl anti-itch spray now. You see, when i was laying in the ditch the other day the ants became quite fond of the flavor of my left forearm. Why was i laying in the ditch?? uh, tornado drill? Thats not important anyway! these ants man! these ants bit/stung the crap outta me. Speaking of, do ants bite or sting? I think sting but i've always heard bite. *shrug*
*scampers off*
aye aye cap'n
21 August 2003
I'd like to pose a scenario to you. imagine the last time you went out, and add an ungodly amount of alcohol to the mix. Alcohol, an addictive substance used to alter moods and brain responsiveness. I am, at this selected moment in time, under the influence of said addictive substance. As i type, i am avoiding any eye contact with the screen because all it does is create a spiraling vortex of colorful(this text seems to randomly change colors) letters and glyphs that i can not entirely decipher.
There is usually a point in one's categorized experience (in which i mean, there's a set beginning, middle and end to such an event) in which they decide that alcohol is the most appropriate path to take. Whether consciously or not, one makes the decision to drown their senses in this substance or to opt for the safer and healthier path of sobriety. I chose alcohol tonight and here i am, typing at this keyboard that looks more and more like a corn on the cobb as i type. I've not eaten since about 5pm. I had the unquestionable wisdom to remain unnourished while i went out and gathered alcohol in the form of bud light, within my stomach. I'm a collector you see. I like to gather sets of related things and display them as a unique and one-of-a-kind exposition that no other can match. Hence this blog.
I began this blog as an outlet. It was a place to displace my thoughts and publicize my experiences. I dunno why, cuz i wanted a creative way to relate to others. Hopefully i've done so with a few of you through my situations (which are all fact by the way, nothing i've typed thusfar is fiction). Yet tonight, i sit in this painfully wooden frame of a chair staring at the oscillating screen which beckons "write jeff, write". Why am i here? i dunno. Its 2:40am at this exact moment on a friday morning. I just got home from taco mac and about 3 pitchers of the undisputed king of beers, bud (lt). Closing my eyes is futile in my efforts to vanquish any silly feelings. I've closed my eyes and rested my head only to feel the world beyond my eyelids begin shimmying, and rotating in a counter-clockwise direction in larger and larger radii. Something about this room is anomalous in nature, a bit odd and disturbing. There is no light beyond my field of vision, nor any other living creatures, such as yourself. You don't exist right now. Only I exist. Me, my keyboard, this bright-ass glowing screen, and my thoughts, as well as the spinning nature of all things surreal of course.
Late night and alcohol is a bad mix for me. It makes me welcome unknown experiences, recollects and reiterates past memories and purges to the foreground any deep feelings i've supressed for the benefit of reality. At this particular moment, i'd like nothing more than prancing about outdoors in a careless fashion with someone i've not spoken to in some time now. Frollicking about, inevitable picnic arranged at a nearby park while the sun begins its ascent deep below the horizon. Nothing but myself, her, the night, the warm air, the cold grass, the chirp of the crickets, the light glow of the partial moon, the warm feeling of completion throughout my entire soul as i realize that this moment is what life is all about.
Yet the very clicking of keys on my keyboard dispels this fantasy as i find myself alone and dizzy, typing on a keyboard that reminds me of corn, hoping that every word is spelled correctly while i sit in the dark, with my unringing cell phone laying on the table, neighboring my 1/10th full paper cup of mcdonald's style dr. pepper that I used to flush my double quarter pounder with cheese earlier this afternoon. The condensation has all run from the cup, forming an aqueous ring between the paper cup and wooden table. This is what i see tonight. No picnic, no warm night air, no person to hold through the night, only this warm solution of sugar and water that reminds me of the painful reality which waits for me tomorrow morning when my senses are not as absent as they are tonight. I've an interview wednesday that I'm excited about. I'm excited because i've nothing else to supercede this event. Nothing that shadows it or demotes its importance. Yet here i sit, glowing light bathing my drooping eyelids in the lost hours of morning. I'll probably wish to remove this entry as morning comes, but i won't. This blog is my version of reality-tv. This is me. This is what someone, an assumed normality of human existence, experiences as time goes on. Here i am. Writing tonight, hoping someone somewhere will be amused or connected in some way. The logic tells me this, while my current state of mind tells me of nothing more than tempting fantasies of pillows and bedsheets. And so I'll save my entry, exit out, turn the computer off, and roll up the stairs in the general direction of my sleeping quarters until luck lands me in them. I'll lay in bed until i fall asleep, dark and quiet, my cell phone anxiously alert, yet continuingly silent, on the stand beside my bed, the fan providing the white noise necessary to enter subconsciousness, as only the consiquential sound of my pulsating diaphragm competes with this solitude. Only half my bed stays warm tonight, as with every other night. The other half, cold, vacant and longing attention. And this is how it goes. This is how it is... Until morning when the loop starts again, and again and again. Welcome to reality.
moving men
16 August 2003
Went to help steve overhaul his in-laws' house today. They just moved out of their old apartment and i decided that i'd engage in "reinstallation" services. Arriving like a symbol of power, i parked the contour cockeyed in the driveway, readily posed for any drive-by-photoshoots.
I suppose sleeping until 11am, I missed the brunt of the work (unloading the aptmt, loading the uhaul, the trip to jonesboro, unloading the uhaul) and arrived simply for the finishing touches. Everything was loaded into the garage and the mission, should we choose to accept it, was to create furniture inside of the house while making furniture in the garage disappear. So like a mafia hit team, we got to work. We began with the sofa. I'm not sure where they got this sofa but by god the sucker musta been the longest sofa east of the mississippi! Anyways, we picked the monstrosity up and navigated it around the house and through the front door. We took our pitstop in the living room. Buzzel, the wild 'n crazy dog-of-some-sort, launched a full assault on my ankles while "medium sized dog" just stood there and looked at me with a slightly puzzled expression. Beyond this there was a third cuddly furball that insisted on couch-surfing while we were moving it. Climbing onto the flipped sofa, Sassy just stands on it and looks up and wags her tail. "GET OFF DOG DIS CHIT HEAVY!" i was thinking, disregarding the 5 lbs or so she may have added to the total weight. So after our version of "chinese firedrill for furniture" we proceeded to begin the hopeless task of moving supercouch down the hall and through a door in an awkward spot.
Slight break, how many of you have been to tennessee to "see rock city!" and lookout mountain and fat man's squeeze and such? Fat man's squeeze is what i'm particularly thinking of at this moment because the farther down the hall we got with this couch, the smaller and narrower it seemed. Had it not been for steven wiggling and fiddling with the couch, i might have broken into some sort of hallucinating fit of dimentia believing that i was stuck indefinitely between the mountains on fat man's squeeze. Anyway, we got to the end of the hall, which curves slightly to the right in an "L" shape. The problem we faced was turning that corner, and then coming back, tangent to the corner to try to slide this couch through a doorway that was not in any physical way possible, allowing the couch to pass. ok so we've got this sofa making all kindsa love to the walls as we're trying to shimmy it through this doorway (and this was at a 45 degree angle, not your simple 90 degrees!). Its not working. We all stood there staring at the couch and scratching our heads as if our combined mental states could conjure a spell that would warp the couch from this wedged position into the target room. No luck, the couch stayed wedged. Our next attempt included a stand-on-end manuever that seemed like a really good idea at the time. The problem? This is the longest sofa this side of the mississippi, remember?? It scraped the ceiling quite disasterously as we tried to "walk" it to a better position. We didn't find that better position, but this was only concluded after we had firmly wedged the couch sideways in a 2nd doorway not at all related to our target room. Hmmm.
I think at this time there was a general concensus that we had failed. Given man's natural tendency to save face, we decided it may be best to try to extract this upside down, and 60-degree angled couch from its current jammed position at the end of the hall, effectively blocking 2 other doorways not in any way related to our target room. This is where it got exciting and the point where 90% of the damage was induced to the couch, movers, and surrounding environment. Having abandoned planned strategy (hell you saw what it did for getting the sofa where we wanted it right?), brute force and musclepower now came to the stage. A series of nudges, pushes, pulls, heaves, smashes, scrapes, and oofs ensued as the sofa pinballed around the end of the hall while we all scurried about it in this confined space like a bunch of pychotic ants trying to pull a boeing 747 into their mound. After a few near-deaths, the couch now lay parallel with the hall that led back to the living room, and we were happy to take this escape. Fade to black, close curtain.
So what happened with the sofa?? Well it now rests happily in the living room replacing a smaller love-seat that will be doubling as a sofa in the room in which we initially wanted the sofa to begin with. I think the love-seat looks very much like the couch and am incredibly impressed by the sheer glamour it radiates when seen in it's new spot. Beautiful, lets leave it just like this and be done with it!
After that we got the smaller furniture which was really no problem, into the house. This was primarily to boost our broken egos after having been schooled by that sofa. We then sat down, drank, ate and became merry. Michelle pointed out "corkscrew the fish" (my appointed name) in their kitchen aquarium. Poor fella has a broken tail, so when he swims, his shortest path from A to B includes about 10-50 corkscrew patterns like you might see on a rollercoaster. Do fish get seasick? I'd venture to say not after seeing the wild flailings that this fish performed. Poor guy. Hope surgery goes well if michelle's mom decides to operate. Nice parents she's got. Both were quite friendly to me and acted like it hadn't been a full 4 years or so since I'd last seen them (check steve's blog for their anniversary, wedding was last time i was there). Even if i couldn't understand everything that her mom said to me, i still enjoyed being there. Nice folks. good times. =)
you've gotta be smarter than the machine
15 August 2003
There's something chilling about technology. Times when the lights flicker out and our hair stands on end only to entice imagination into colorful myriads of terror and confusion. I've had one of those experiences for the last 36 hours.
Formerly, perhaps in a past life, i was good with computers. Having established my reputation as a computer geek, i'd learned the ins and outs of the groundbreakingly high-tech windows95. When people learn to ride bicycles, they say you never forget. Lets establish clearly now that computers may well be the polar opposite of bicycles and there is slim to no chance of remembering any damn thing about them when the appropriate time arises. If our lives depended on it, probably none of us could go back to win95 and even find the control panel let alone making such a bold attempt on a 3.11 system, less the maniacs. Now imagine going 5 years into the future and trying to adapt to something you've as much knowledge on as you did women at the age of 6 (or men if applicable). meh!
That being said, I've been having some difficulties with my computer recently. I've got XP home and started getting all these critical program errors everywhere, the ones that end task your program and pretend to let you go about your business. Like cockroaches these things are crawling out of the woodwork, click on My Computer: critical error, end task. Connect to mindspring: critical error, end task. Open my email: critical error, end task. Try to sleep at night: critical error, end task. Its a malicious circle of electronic vengeance. Crak says "format" but i'm not one to opt for binary genocide. So me, being the computer-saavy type that i am, or am not as i'm about to find out, reinstall windows. Yay! this should work miracles. XP loads and goes to my desktop. "Windows has recovered from a serious error" it mocks, with a single button of "ok" at the bottom of the window. *click* Repeat. hmmm. You see, while this window is up, the rest of windows is unresponsive, i cannot connect to the internet, open the start menu or even ctrl-alt-delete until i close this window by the only means possible, the innocent-enough looking "ok" button at the bottom of the window. *click* Repeat. Ummm... It seems that within maybe 3/1000ths of a second after pushing "ok", the same exact window returns again. And this is where the AI comes into play.
For those of you that mess with computers sometimes, you know those situations where you KNOW that the computer should do X if you do Y? But then you do Y and the computer does Z? You KNOW it will work, beyond any extra shadened shadow of a doubt, and then like an act of satan, it doesn't. Its basically having the same effect as walking into a building from the street, approaching a big glass door with a horizontal brass handle the width of the door, clearly on wide hinges so that it will swing freely either inwards, or outwards. Seeing through the glass door you see the people on the other side, the space allotted around the doorspace for said door to physically complete it's lone act of opening to its fullest extent. So then you go to push the door as you intend to enter the building, but rather than the door pushing open, the energizer bunny erupts through the asphault beneath your feet, weilding a light saber and claiming liberation of the roman empire in a Fat Albert voice, while chinese fireworks blast into the sky from within his evil glowing pink hide!!! Yes friends, this is the response i've gotten from my computer on an uncountable number of occasions. So i hit the power button and walked away.
Almost out of sheer spite for my computer, i proceeded almost directly towards my parent's computer. For months my mom and sis have been begging me to fix their computer. They have the unfortunate circumstance of sharing the machine with dad. Why unfortunate? Well my dad's a smart guy. He knows he's a smart guy. But I'd swear when he sits down at the computer, he sometimes thinks he's smarter than he is and thus proceeds to damage the computer in some form or fashion by adding another piece of software on there bulldozing over whatever other software might have been in its way. This has rendered the machine an abomination when coupled with "mom incidents" (for instance once i was sitting here and hear "jeff!! I sneezed, now somethings wrong with the computer! come fix it!" get my drift?). So anyway, out of spite for my desktop, I approached the 'rents computer with sheer determination to expel any errors that may stand in my way so that I can once again taste the glory of technical satisfaction. Ok, so lets see what's wrong here. Well to begin with, there's about 20 windows-related errors on startup. Lets reinstall windows and maybe clean it up a little bit. So I confidently inserted the cd into the drive and began the tediously long process of installing windows. A wee shy of two minutes into this journey, the screen flickers and this beautiful blue background pops up with this white lettering that reflects something along the lines of "critical line error: dumping physical memory to disk". Surely this can't be a healthy part of the install process. The computer then restarts, only it doesn't. It can't. It won't. And theres nothing that you or all the armies of heaven could do to sway the computer towards booting. So the core of my last 36 hours has been trying to figure out how to get into this hard drive. I've talked to tech-saavy's about it, i've searched the internet, forums and newsgroups and i've even looked into data recovery software/services yet no reasonable luck. Ya see, normally I'd just repartition it, as thats about the only access that hell itself could conjure out of that thing, but it contains a lot of sensitive stuff, like my dad's work, my sis's work and resume/college/career stuff, etc. WHY THE HELL DO YOU PEOPLE NOT MAKE BACKUPS?!?
Exempting detail on my efforts, the bottom line is that this hdd will likely never disclose its contents to another living soul again. And soon father will come home. He will want to get on his computer to play solitaire or by the off-chance he has work to do and find his frankenstein of a machine reduced to an ordinary dead corpse. You realize of course that I will take the fall for this. Responsibility will be assigned and justice carried out swiftly. Like austin powers caught helplessly in front of a steamroller at some distance, i wait for my doom. Beckums may even want a hand in dropping the floor at the gallows as she had some important things on there as well. Currently the other computer is lying stripped in the kitchen, its organs exposed and non-functional much like a patient who didn't quite make it through surgery after a hopeful commencement. The light shines down on its metal frame, screws, hard drives left hopelessly abandoned and scattered about the table. The background light fades to black as one soft lone light shines on the carcass. A soft yet morbid italian tune winds to its painful conclusion, meeting silence as the light fades, having never gotten to say goodbye, it ends.
The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing
13 August 2003
Arts, philosophy, culture, self-fulfillment. Maybe its just me but all of these things seem a bit rare these days. We're a machine caught in a repititious cycle enslaved only by our own fear of breaking from that cycle. Its funny sometimes, whenever you hear someone say "I have to..." or "I've got to go do..." hijack their attention for a moment and ask them: "why?" Most people will probably dismiss the question as worthless with a quick sigh and others, inbetween gulps of their double-shot expressos intended to compensate for the 3 extra hours of sleep they didn't need again, will likely answer to the best of their ability which usually echoes of "because i have to." Some things must be done but many typically forget the end goal. I find this painfully interesting. To what end? For what purpose? Discard the initial impression of rhetoric or pessimism and see if you can answer these questions about your daily activities to yourself.
Shifting gears, I had a bit of a fecal emergency today. Yes you read that correctly. Shortly after getting home today I was triumphantly parading down the corridors of my empty estate (quit laughing) as my husky came prancing around the corner like a dancing clydesdale to greet my arrival home. I praised her, but at the same time felt a slight chill of fear, much like someone trying to remember if they left the gas on and the candle lit at their house after they're 20 miles away from it. This was primarily triggered by the exuberant behavior of the dog. You see, my husky has a problem. She's going through her mid-life crisis right now and is in full rebellion to any rules and authorities we've established in the house. She's not allowed in more than half of the house because she'll sneak around when she's fully aware that everyone is occupied and not watching her, only to find the most commonly-trafficked portion of carpet in the house to pee on. Then she'll disappear for a couple hours. No telling where she goes, probably hiding in the top kitchen cabinets for all i know, but she's difficult to locate after her acts of vandalism. I'd put a bell on her but she's fully aware of the sound it makes and would likely not even breath wherever she's holed up in order to avoid delivering any audio clues to where she safe-house is. Anyway, the fear never lies. I know when she's perpetrated. I can just tell. So as she was greeting me and i got this feeling, i ceased petting her and gave her the funny eye. Catching wind of my suspicions, she turns to make a hasty escape to said unknown location. So i look around, the hall is clear, the kitchen's clear, the master bedrooms clear, the living rooms cl..... dammit. Right smack-dab in the middle of the living room was her signature mark of rebellion. I reluctantly approached it to assess the damage when I realize that this was simply a diversion. The dog is using tactics for christ's sake! On the other side of the room, directly in front of the television set was a pile of poo that radiated "ha ha ha!", along with something else. The dog has shat on the carpet. What can one do in such a situation? I froze like some dumbfounded manikin trying to figure it out. I had no weapons that would smoke the vanished bitch from her hiding place and she and I both knew that by the time she emerged, hours later that all would be calm, so retaliation was out of the question, although i must admit scooping it into her food bowl and leaving it for her for breakfast tomorrow did cross my mind. Now most of you will be thinking "Crikey mate! take yer dog outside once in a while to let'er do 'er business!" I do, we all do. The dog is outside 10-15 times a day. Its all diversionary tactics though, its a necessary coverup in preperation of assaults just like this one! We'll put her out, and she'll either go out and pretend to do her business before promptly returning to the door, or she'll stay out for hours w/o ever doing or pretending to do her business. She knows we watch her on the short trips, but she knows we don't when she's outside for long periods and she uses these situations to her advantage. So on deciding what the hell to do with this scenario, i looked at the clock. Beckums gets home in about 5-10 minutes. Upon adoption of this beast, beckums had sworn oath to maintain all relevent aspects of this animal, and this my friends, I use to my advantage. I did nothing, and five minutes later as my sister gets home, she gets to work. I offered to help of course but she was braving it well enough on her own. Go beckums. Now I understand why governments want to get people with no life off the streets, because they've nothing better to do than cause trouble, and by god this seems familiar. Tomorrow I'm taking the dog to get a job with the circus, that'll keep her occupied and teach her to screw with me.
Crikey!
I think I should move to europe
11 August 2003
Should you?
"You work for me bitch!"
08 August 2003
At least that's how steven put it, which sounds a bit intimidating. Ok, I've been my lazy self for a while now. It was fun, I've done tons more this summer than I have the whole time I was in college, least thats how it seems. All good things must come to an end right? No fool, but in this case, yes. Summer is over. My last "summer off" ever is pretty much over. I've just signed my life away on monster and i'm waiting for the great Reaper himself, arriving in the form of an email or phonecall that says monotonously: "You work for me now bitch!" My world left behind, everyone and everything i've known bidding me farewell as the obvious march of my own doom ensues, my job occupying 60+ hours a week, I've no recollection of anyone other than "sir" or "ma'am", the demons which enslave me. Night will mix with day, hunger will mix with exhaustion, dreams will mix with depression and reality will mix with work at which point i will have achieved a level unascertained by any other, deemed a legend, a ghost of the office. "Did you hear the one about the Oak Man?" they'll say above the flickering candlelight with frightful eyes. "He's neither man nor ghost, but a mere silhouette of a broken man. To this day they say he still roams the office, doing menial jobs, sleeping less than 1 hour a day and doing so under his desk." The crowd gathering around the storyteller anxious for more content begins to picture this horror in their same confines, hair standing now on end. Now as they walk the halls they'll often cast a glance over their shoulder and around dark corners with a slight chill expecting this monster to emerge ferociously at any moment to sieze their expendable lives in bloody revenge! ...But I don't plan to stay in a job like that long so unfortunately such a colorful scenario may never emerge. I live life to live life, not to work.
Hey folks it's linda's birthday today. Go give her wonderous presents and joyous wishes and all that jazz that people do on birthdays. Hopefully it'll be safe for you to get blissfully drunk soon and bask in the distorted paradise of uh... something you'd really like to bask in.
So what the hell is up with people? People do the damndest things ya know? Ok I've got this friend who's talking to this fellow we'll refer to as bert (because personally i thought even ernie was cooler than bert). Laquisha (as we'll call her hypothetically) met bert on a kinda special day for both of them, and they hit it off fairly well. However in the quick whirl of thoughtless abandon, they fail to distribute contact information. A few weeks later, bert emails laquisha, the email thoughtfully aquired through the local college directory. The email is sweet and expresses interest, what a hunk bert was. But apparantly bert has never spoken with a woman before. After his assumed upcoming amongst some unknown spartan-like male society, he repeatedly tries to spit game at laquisha in the poorest excuse for a realer-than-reality-tv scenario that i've ever seen. Referring to laquisha as "baby" on numerous occasions, he sends her an email with many of his pictures on there. Half of the pictures he was half-naked (even doing a mr. universe pose in one) and another picture worth noting disclosed a closeup kiss with an unidentified female. Ok, who in their right mind would send a picture of them kissing someone to a possible candidate of theirs for a future relationship?? "look, i've even kissed a woman before! I'm good at this!" *sigh* Dismissing this as a simple oddity of character, bert then constructs a consistent string of excuses every time that he and laquisha are supposed to hibbidy-jibbidy and boogidy-boo. When any attempts by laquisha were made at civil conversation, the conversation seemed to turn to PBTV (thats playboy television for the rest of us who are not familiar enough with it to use its acronym). Now the tides have shifted in that laquisha no longer wishes to meet with bert for fear of him clubbing her over the head, slinging her over his hide-covered torso and uttering "UGH! woman! mine!" in some neanderthalic dialect before loading her into his flintstones-style car and departing for the cave. After advice, laquisha seems to have decided that bert is not "the one" that he appeared to be at first meeting.
hrm, was gonna go into philosophy, but i'll save that for another time as well as another friend's distorted relationship story. =)
Much ado about nothing
06 August 2003
I guess I haven't been updating because there's not been a lot that I can write about. Lots of personal things have been happening lately, the likes of which one shouldn't broadcast on an open webpage. However there are a few important things at this point in time to note: Arnold is running for governor of Cali, so lets all pack up and move our butts out there so we can elect him; the braves trounced the brewers 10-2; and four-cheese doritos really are better than three-cheese doritos. Get the president on the phone!
Ok as always, monday nights are reserved exclusively as karaoke night at the penalty box. Sometimes I wonder who the ingenious individual was that decided that singing to scores of songs would be entertaining? Ya see, as i grew up, the word "karaoke" always seemed evil for some reason. Now i'm not one to publically cast myself around boisterously re-enacting jessica simpson's latest hit (although if you get her in person to help me out, i'd definately consider it). So when the time comes around for volunteers to sing, I'm the first person to disappear under the table without any sexually explicit acts in mind. American Wedding's michelle comes to mind *coff*. You probably know that i'm already a bit self-conscious for many reasons and won't hesitate to doubt myself without any supporting evidence. Hence i'll dance around karaoke like i were barefoot in an interactive glass shard museum. There i was minding my own business when a redneck'ish teenager known only as "mike" approaches me. Ya see, mike is the boyfriend to the girl that has been working the show the last couple of weeks. Mike's a pretty good guy from what i can tell, unless you're one to judge a person on their adeptness to aquiring pitches and tones, in which case you'd likely launch a stool, cue stick, or even the whole pool table at him with malicious intent. But i digress. Mike approaches me with what i can obviously make out as an entry form for the contest. I watch him excitedly approach, eyes on me and slap the form down on the table in front of me. "We have three people, we need one more or we can't have the contest." Oh god, i think, searching for the nearest cue stick to introduce to "mike". I'm IT. I'm the go or no go. The pressure is on. Unfortunately once a contestant has won any winnings at all, they're forever banned from performing again in the contest. Karen and Gina have already gotten their payout from this shenanigan. They were not an option. I was locked in, like a cornered giraffe in the middle of short-tree season, i freaked!
So i sang some tim mcgraw. Ya see, i've never sang karaoke before, in fact i don't think i've ever sang in public or in front of another person because of that foundationless disrespect for my musical abilities. So my appearance up there was nothing short of an apocolyptic catastrophe that would likely implode the earth. After putting the mic down, i stumbled back to the booth, gasping for breath, trying to move my left arm and regain my vision. I think i nearly passed out or had a stroke, i couldn't be sure. So of course no sooner than I'm feeling my way into the booth, brandi calls me and says she's there. It might've been a godsend that she didnt show up right before because the added pressure of just one more person i knew in there would have surely made my kidneys explode. Supposedly people liked me singing. Sorry for the scoff, but I'd like to get that in writing in case i'm ever the center of some radically unheard of trial centered around the horrific results of my singing. Its not a matter of if, but when!
Yea so karen gave me this idea about a dream journal last night. Supposedly its a journal where you disclose everything you can remember about your dreams and you write it as soon as you wake. Splendid! So for once I was anxious to fall asleep so i could begin this cool idea. I pass out, i wake up and abandon the idea, at least for now. I mean seriously, one cannot open a journal or log with a derivation of a sex dream. Its just not proper, not kosher, and i won't do it. Although I remember something about driving a train, its definately not on the forefront of my mind to recall without some sort of painful excavation of my brain. I'll put this on the backburner for now.
Four grueling years. A few thousand dollars. My own sweat and, at times, blood invested. Anyone who's graduated from college knows that you've put a lot into it over the years. The least these ungrateful wallet-suckers could do is give me a cool diploma, or even just send it to me. Nope. I got that letter that said something to the effect of "you have until august xx to pick it up or we use it to plug the holes in our paper budget" or something. A couple weeks ago karen got hers and i got to see it. She went to georgia state uni(GSU) and got this grand-scaled diploma (mailed to her door mind you) that looked gratifying just to behold. Then with the accompanying fancy schmancy frame, it radiated a contagious aura of pride and achievement. Woohoo! I'm gonna go get mine! I was pumped, I was envigorated, best nobody gets in my way! Well that mood died halfway between the car and the damn student center. Its the middle of summer, there are no classes right now, why are there enough cars here that I'm confusing it with weekend atlanta gridlock?! I shoulda packed a canteen. So i finally get to the registrar's office and let them know that I've come to stake my claim. She turns around half eye-rolling and half god-i-hate-my-jobish and retires around a corner. Now i realize i should've also brought lunch to eat while i wait. A blue moon later, she emerges from around the corner carrying an envelope and gestures to me to approach the bench. "I'm here for my diploma" I remind her. But her memory needing no such assistance echoed back a nearly inaudible grunt as she motioned at the envelope. Ok it's example time. Grab a nearby sheet of paper. Writing paper, typing paper, whatever. Now hold it up and put it up against your screen. Is it bigger or smaller than your screen? For most of you i'll assume that its about the same size or smaller than your computer screen. My diploma came in an 8.5"x11" envelope and looked just as questionable in presentation. "so what, that's not bad" you might be thinking. I've taken a picture of my framed diploma (frame was like $80 of course) with my shoe in front of it to give an idea. Unfortunately CCSU has already terminated my webspace and I've nowhere to host it. My shoe is slightly larger than the width of my diploma. Next time you go to the doctor, look at all their things hanging on the wall. Sure, some of them may in fact be 8.5x11, but you notice they've got about 10 of those? Strength in numbers my friend! That's why doctors are so expensive, they charge you like each degree on the wall were a seperate doctor seeing you. Look for the big ones, the pretty ones that they got from stanford or emory or whoever. Would you respect your doctor if his doctorate were about the same size as a cd-rom? NO! It's like being the midget on the basketball team, everyone makes fun of you! But hey, i graduated! woo!
Go to kroger and look for the general mills cereals. They've got some great games included with the cereals. So far i've got monopoly and scrabble and they rock, albeit a bit cheating. How I can own 3 sides of the board with houses and hotels and still lose the game is beyond me. hrm, yea.
So i'm goin to athens saturday. While i'm reassured that it will be an enjoyable experience, I can't help but worry about my bodily safety while completely trashed amongst a flood of trashed 18 year olds. Again I'm reassured that this isn't the case, but I think I'll opt to get drunk before we all go out just for the hell of it. After all, last time i did that, we managed to avoid picking a fight with an entire fraternity in their own house. Just picture the horror had we been sober! Yay oglethorpe.
I hate blogs that are just too much too fast. I hate it when there's just so much to read that it becomes mind-numbingly boring. Luckily I keep my blogs short. this being my eighth or so "stanza"? Yes paragraph but stanza sounds cooler. Why are they getting progressively longer? Oh dear lord, i've written to much. *save, exit*
He looked at me funny!
30 July 2003
Well what do you know. Mike "punch you in the face" Tyson is the poor poor victim of yet another assault. Apparantly there were a couple of guys (see story at CNN.) who wanted to get his autograph or something like that. Something happens, the innocent Tyson comes to the desperate ends of having to defend himself against these aggressive vermin! What better way to protect oneself than to completely pulverize whatever is threatening you! Hence pulverization ensues. Now for any of you who are foolish enough to follow my links (yes this one was safe), you'll see a still picture of Tyson standing over one of the guys, who appears to be on the floor, arm-a-swingin. Now I don't know what happened. I'm no prophet, psychic, witness or one of those televangelists who can channel the power and knowledge of god through my pinky toe. No, I'm simply a mere mortal with modest plans to dominate the galaxy (any interested henchman, see me to apply). Therefore, I openly admit that I've no knowledge of how this event transpired. BUT, if any one of you could care to enlighten me as to how one can justify self defense when he's caught in the act of standing over his attackers beating the bajeezus out of him?? (Much like i did to my german material last week). *shrug* Yes I can see it now, "I'm bored, lets go pose a threat to Mike "I gotta feed my kids" Tyson and see what he does." Maybe the guy was secretly one of those floor-ninjas who could bend an attack helicopter in half without ever picking their bodies up off the floor? Frightening I tell you.
Ok, so people are beginning to complain because I've not updated my blog in about 4 days or something. I'm finding it hard to believe that people lack the sense to avoid my material, but i suppose the world is comprised of all types. So for those of you who seem to visit this page every once in a while to gain insightful wisdom in the trials of jeff, fret not. For i hath brought forth thine update unto you and you shall thence be satisfied and delivered from thine boredom. And if this doesn't do it for you, then I'll give you a cookie, then you'll like me dammit!
This past weekend I was daring enough to attempt to go mountain biking again. Romej calls me up and says sum'n like "yo bizatch! I'll see you at the trails! that is, if you can handle it sissy-boy!" Well kinda, maybe not really. But regardless he notifies me of this inevitable opportunity to escape this asylum i reside in. So I gear up. See pops decided that he doesn't really want me toting my finely-tuned biking machine around in his tahoe anymore. "It makes my truck dirty" he says. Granted last time I basically had to pressure wash the interior of the truck to remove the mud droplets spattered about. If you've seen Desperado with Antonio Banderas, think about the "out of order" stall in that mexican bar bathroom. Ok, so because of this turn of events, I purchased a car rack for my bike. Its one of those things that you kinda strap to the rear of your car praying to god that it doesn't dislodge at 50mph almost guaranteeing bicycluar destruction and a lawsuit from whomever is following me. While i'm driving around with this thing dangling my bike around like a windsock off the rear of my car, I'm sitting up there in the "oh holy chit" position most often attained after consuming one too many taco bell gorditas, straightened back, puckered lips, tightened butt and driving like every bump in the road meant the difference in getting home safely and ditching the car in a distant lake, to avoid the humiliation of any other human being ever seeing what resulted within its interior. So after getting to The Beach with bike rack in tact with bike dangling like Michael Jackson's baby, I get out, gear up and wait for steven. He shows, he gears, we ride.
Despite any attempts I make at presenting myself as some athletic and capable mr. universe, I'm not. I'm a pansy. I've got about as much shape as an early 90's volvo, and my stamina barely lasts as long as jennifer lopez's marriages. Regardless, we hit the trails full force. I rode hard, i got hot, i got dizzy, i had to sit down. You see, if you were to ride with me, out in the wilderness trails of the unknown, you'd realize that this is the normal way of things. Its a harmonious nirvana that must not be disrupted. I get dizzy, I must sit down, and occasionally, if one is lucky, they may just get to witness the unmatched hilarity of my passing out. Steven has witnessed this, as well as beelzebub (someone who was walking by COINCIDENTALLY at the exact moment this happened) and his pet dog. Now don't get me wrong, I'm not a chronic fainter. I don't go around randomly careening my lifeless body into things at various points in time. I've only ever passed out this once in my entiere life, and that includes head-trauma incidents! (stories possibly in the future). Although most sane individuals would contribute this departure from consciousness a product of malnourishment and over-exertion, nay, let me stop them there. You see, Beelzebub paid me a visit that day. This innocent-looking fellow with a baseball cap on and a cutie-wootsie little dog that he was taking for a walk on the trails. Now lets analyze the facts. Said demon emerges from the trees as romej and i rest after powering up some ridiculously steep hill. I see him out of the corner of my eye. Courteously, we all three nod, exchange greetings and such. This was done as he was approaching, before he passed us. I looked up at him and my head grew hot. I could feel my scalp evaporating the sweat I had collected. As the devil approaches, my mind numbs, my eyes cross and I lower my head. The last piece of information that my decaying mind could pick up was the devil himself passing within arms reach of me. Then all was quiet.
"Jeff!" I hear steven repeating, a slight tone of concern in his voice. "I wish he'd leave me alone" i was thinking, "this is a really great nap i'm having." But alas, this pest continues to rattle my body until I'm awake. "What the hell does he want?!" i'm thinking. "myok boof emyi blaborf" is all i could hear. My eyes were fixed on the tree limbs above and the bright blue sky fighting its way through the crevices. Peaceful, serene, heavenly. "are you ok?" i finally make out, as my hearing restores. I notice Beelzebub, having stopped to ensure that his devilish work had successfully been carried out, now made for a hasty retreat. The further his effigy moved from me the more brainpower I regained, much like Superman in the presence of Kryptonite. Now I was aware of the incident, the light headedness, the passing out, the bike bending my legs like hot casts of iron. Steven remains convinced that I was over-exerted. I should let him believe this, for he'd never credit that day to an encounter with satan himself. Now it might have seemed like 'just some guy' at the time, but this guy is out in the middle of nowhere, middle of the forrest walking his little dog that rivals the size of my helmet? No my friends, most certainly no person would be in such a situation, the chances too slim, the oddness too great. Now i need a t-shirt that says "I survived Beelzebub '03!".
I'll spare all of you any more material today, my original mountain biking story was hopelessly lost only to be replaced with the Beelzebub story. Perhaps tomorrow when I revisit conspiring spiders on the trails and dead squirrels dropping from the sky (see steven's blog). So until next time, be careful out there people! We're on terror warning level orange again, after all.
smart people in public: where?? ; Ich lernen Deutsch
26 July 2003
Ok so I went bowling tonight. That FunBowl place down in mcdonough which is generally a nice clean place. It was crowded. Now I'm not talking about crowded like "ooh theres a lot of cars in the parking lot", I'm talking crowded like "Hey bubba joe, can you turn to the right a little? I can't breath!" But oddly that was only on the alley-side of the bowling alley. Ya know how its cut in half, the "walkway" behind where everyone bowls tumbleweeds freely roaming up and down, yet cross onto the hard floor and its like the mosh pit from hell. Went with karen, so we get our lane (which didn't take too long surprisingly) and go over to the prestigious lane 19! Until we got there and found about 6 kids throwing a party in our lane. Old kids, like ranging from 14-30, I couldn't tell.
So we begin bowling and the fun begins. These crazy fools have seemed to claimed our lane for their own, they'd probably planted a flag if they had one. If we went from the table to get up and bowl, we had to wade through dumbasses, and then wade through some more dumbasses on the way back to the table. Ok, so ya try to deal with it ya know. You just ignore it and hope they migrate somewhere else. Only they didn't. They'd even be out on the actual lanes crossing over into "our side" while we're in mid-stride! There I am, being the polite person I am and letting this girl bowl to the left of me. She bowls, howls a bit, perhaps because she was a lost offspring of some wild beast, or she rolled a bad bowl, i'm not sure. But when she turns around, I start my stride, attempting to concentrate because I was losing fairly badly at the moment. Raised-in-a-barn child veers off her lane, right into mine while I'm striding, I was damn afraid i was about to uppercut her from behind while i swung the ball backwards. Gutterball, i was thinking more about a pending lawsuit rather than the pins at the end of the lane. Oblivious to the catostraphic chain of events that she has caused, she continues wandering aimlessly in the general direction of her friends.
After a while I've got them figured out. Feeling smooth and a bit strategic, I knew when the best time to bowl was and when to stay the hell out of these bastards' way. I somehow conjure up two strikes, next in line is a turkey. Yea baby. So I watch our neighbors, carefully plotting my attack. The time is right! I spring up, grab my ball and stand at the perfect beginning point. I begin the stride, the ball rears back fully engaged in unleashing its thunderous twelve pounds of spherical demolition towards its unsuspecting pins, as out of nowhere, the earth tilted a bit to the right and what i briefly mistook for a jet-powered steamroller came thundering past me to my right! I was helpless, my body caught in the draft of wind created by this monstrosity of a human being that apparantly doesn't know what "polite" bowling is all about. He seemed to think that its alright to go at the same time as your neighbor, even if you're known to register readings on the richtor scale!
Dazed and a bit confused, I waddled back to our chair and watched karen go on to claim the victory, my heart and motivation broken by the bowling neighbors from hell, I couldn't quite get the ball to ever hit the forward pin again. Should our new friends get lost in the middle of the night only to burn into charred ash upon the meeting of sunlight to their skin at dawn, I'd likely not grieve. God. People suck.
On another note, I had this completely off the wall urge to learn german. I think i saw a commercial on tv that had all the same colors as those arranged on the german flag, and it hit me like a ton of bricks... I want to learn to speak german! Right. See my sis used to take german classes, as well as russian, italian and something else, maybe zulu or something. Anyway she was, naturally, my first source for material on this drastic decision I've arrived at. She disappears into her den for a few days and finally emerges with a book titled "Deutsche Naklar!", whatever the hell that means. "This is a great beginning book!" she encourages. "It even comes with a tape!" Now anyone who's ever tried learning another language knows that if you can't get an audio version of what you're trying to spill out of your mouth, you might as well just go around saying "blaaaah! blah blah blaaaauuuugh!" and call it whatever respective language you think you've learned. So great! I've got a good beginners book and an audio tape. I open the book. I find a walkman and feed it the tape anxious that I'm about to expand my human value. It may have been five minutes, it may have been five days, but whatever it was I sat there staring at this book and hitting rewind on this tape, trying to find some sort of english introduction. Beginners must hear their native language in order to relate anything foreign to it! I had this sinking feeling that the tape was perhaps some random journal smuggled past the nazi mail filters somewhere pre wwII. So i asked beckums.
"huh?" she says.
"this tape doesn't go with this book" i repeat.
"yes it does"
"ok then, show me where this thing starts"
At this point she's shuffling through the first chapter and listening to the tape.
"its right here!" as she points to a line of text. So i push play.
Now the line pointed out clearly says "Guten Tag! Herzlich willkommen! Mein Name ist Pohle, Norbert Pohle."
The tape squabbles off some line of gibberish not even remotely resembling anything that any self-respecting german would likely say in public.
Now eventually I finally found the spot that it was actually at, if measured in distance, it would be about seventy miles from where you're sitting right now. So I got excited again, sparkly eyes, drooling mouth, wagging tail, the whole package. Then after about 45 seconds, the audio supplement has once again taken a vacation to some other random location in the book. Now may i remind you, there is no english that I've found in this book. There is no english on the tape. If you've ever gone outside at night, put on a blindfold and begun sprinting through the forrest, you'd have a general idea of what this felt like. After about an hour of feeling like i was the test subject in some intergalactic histarical insanity experiment, i decided I'd claim my revenge by exiling the ill-respected german material to the corner of this room that I've most often found dead bugs. Yes thats right, as its punishment, it must harbor these segmented carcasses for all eternity while I stand over it, dominantly pointing down and laughing at the disgrace bound to said material! I am clearly the victor! If I can't learn it, then it must be the most pointless, stupid lot of information ever to disease the earth! *scoff* Stupid language. stupid german. stupid culture. Now I must pay dues to more important matters, like computer monopoly and doritos.
Dogs, Grocery Stores and young people all grown up
24 July 2003
As the today drew out, I found myself crossing paths with a strange dog. Identified most commonly as "Buddy" (aka Plain Dog), this chocolate lab is quite possibly the most generic dog I've ever had the fortune of walking away from. It was this generic dog that I found myself curiously intruiged by their psyche. Just what exactly do dogs think? It was at the house that my sister is staying at right now. We went in the garage door and there it is, in the pantry with a baby-gate as high as his lower shoulder, barely half the overall height of the dog. Yet as we walked closer, he began to jump around feverishly as though he were about to be sprung from this cruel and torturous chamber.
"What was he thinking?" I thought. The dog was jumping around, clearly capable of clearing this reject of a baby gate, yet he sat and waited with this sad yet anxious look to be freed. So Beckums set him free. Plain Dog immediately comes over and starts smelling me, half jumping and half slobbering all over every absorbable surface possible, including inside my pants pockets which i later found (how? well ya got me). So the dog will sit and randomly stare, just staring at you. Again, i'm inclined to wonder, just WHAT exactly is he thinking? Beckums takes the dog outside to do his business. I stayed in and watched out the window. This may be the most peculiar "business" i've seen done in some time. As he's... doing his business, he's pivoting on his right rear foot and doing a slow spin, much like a lawn sprinkler. Just what the hell exactly is he thinking? *goin around goin around goin around goin around*
Went to the grocery store today. I think I mentioned two days ago that I was in desperate need of doing so. One buggy, not overflowing like a 40ft stack of dishes you may see in a looney tunes episode, but just up to the "top" of the buggy, nice and leveled off. I wasn't paying much attention to the girl ringing up the stuff, instead i was lost in the thought of eating something other than dried bread for the first time in three days. Jolting me from this fantasy the girl looks quaintly at me with a slight smile and says "You've saved $30" (kroger plus card). "Wow!" i think, $30 is pretty good. So I slide my card through the little scanner they have facing you (speaking of, i can never seem to get used to these. Grocery stores around here have had them for years, yet every time I pull my card out of my wallet and try to hand it to the register personel) and at the same time I look up at the display on the register. $227.49!!! WHOA!! When exactly did grocery prices rival the cost of an internal chest cavity transplant? Bah, oh how I love the costs of living.
I could probably count on one hand the number of close friends I have left that are not married. And of those married, I could probably count the number of those without children on one hand also. Spoke with an old friend today online. His wife just had a baby girl. I was excited and happy for him, I thought it was cool... Until I started thinking about my position. Here this guy is, married, good job, just bought a house, just birthed a daughter and he's a year younger than I. Am I secretly "slow"? Is everyone I know politely avoiding having to tell me that my mental capacity is perhaps that of a spoiled child in his mid threes?? Why have I no such progression through life while others reap the benefits of independant lifestyles, old age and dea.....th. Ya know, ignorance is bliss after all.
Gute Nacht!
blog space
23 July 2003
Well steve has hooked me up with this webspace to blog on just for fun. So thanks to him for letting me do this and bein such a cool chum.
Living Alone
22 July 2003
Its late, its dark, its quiet. Ya know, after living with my family for as long as I have, I'm quite unaccustomed to being in the house by myself.
I'm on day 3 now. Parents have been in Pennsylvania for longer and my sister has been house-sitting at a friend's place. I don't know if its the lack of human contact or the sheer oddities of the mind that can influence some of the happenings around here. Noises I've not noticed before are finding their way through the silence shrouding the house. A couple of times the dogs seem anxious as they've run off towards the hall as if they're expecting someone to emerge from the dark void. When nothing happens they look confused and retreat back to their resting spots, keeping a watchful eye on the door leading to the hall. eerie.
There were some fairly severe storms earlier today that warranted the local news stations' stories on fallen trees. Wow, a tree fell on a car, no one was hurt. Thanks for the warning so as I'm not to meander to some random point in the metro area and find myself getting into a car to go run some errands, only to find that it won't go into gear, shut the door or start the engine because ITS CRUSHED UNDER A GIANT FALLEN OAK TREE!! Thank god fox atlanta warned me about it though, so i shan't be in such a humiliating situation. Regardless, the storm itself was a bit of a good one, high winds lots of thunder and lightning, but it didn't seem like that much rain.
Its after 1:30am now and a short while ago I heard a fairly loud *thud* on my window. With the storm earlier, I was expecting some remnants of wind or the like. Around the corner, I opened the front door to look to see what had blown up against the window. What I found was an undisturbed silence, the kind you'd expect to find at the top of arctic mountains (without the wind of course), where there is no life and no movement, all is quiet, all is still. This *thud* had gotten the dogs attention as well, both jumping up from their lethargic resting position, taken by surprise. Adler seemed a bit spooked and his hair was on end for nearly ten minutes. Although I didn't go back and check, I don't recall hearing crickets or other night noises outside. I keep finding myself eyeing the window, each time expecting to see a different figure standing there looking in at me.
I've gathered whats left of the rations (need to go to the grocery store i guess) and a mag-lite. Perhaps i'll keep the dogs close tonight, somewhat of a personal security system. I'm somewhat anxious to see the sunrise but not to struggle through the night. I'm off to bed to hasten the process, should morning come at all.
October '03 - January '04 entries | June '04 - current entries
If anyone would like to contact me, you can email me at jester0103@hotmail.com. If you do, make the subject something about the blog, or i'll likely delete it thinking its junkmail. I also don't authorize any other use of my email such as adding to mailing lists or commercial solicitation. So don't do it. >=(