Have you ever noticed how when you sit down on the commode your farts are magnified a hundred fold? This is a dilemma for me. Usually, when I sit down to pee, it's because I don't want to make any kind of sound while doing it. This goes back to my childhood, when I was afraid to make any kind of sound while using the bathroom, out of fear of waking up my dad.
Now I'm a man, and any man worth his salt will never admit that he EVER sits down to pee. But there are instances when this must occur... sometimes you're too drunk to stand up to pee, other times your back hurts because of a kidney infection, and other times you're just too damn lazy to stand up whilst doing it.
So anyway, back to the topic, about how toilets magnify sounds. So, the main reason why I sit down to pee is so that nobody will hear the 'TINKLE TINKLE SPRINKLE SPLINKLE' of the peeing process (this is possible by practicing blind aiming at the inside of the bowl above the water line). But at the same time, when I sit down, my body construes this as... "Ok, time to get rid of some toxic waste, the solid kind! Avast ye mates, man the helm and get ready!"
NO! Says I, to this. And although I am quite successful at consciously regulating bodily functions when the need isn't imminent, my subconscious almost always succeeds in sending a few gas bubbles down the tail pipe. Thus, when I sit down to pee, I almost always find myself battling between the urge to fart and the urge to pee. My subconscious betrays me almost every time. I think my subconscious has a sense of humor. It likes to play practical jokes on me, especially when it knows that the jokes will be LOUD and OBNOXIOUS.
Hey, the joke is on you, subconscious! You are me, and when you make me fart in the commode at 200 decibels, you are playing a joke on YOU TOO!
Take that, me.
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Sleep
I have a theory on sleep, which has most likely been thought of before, like everything else that has already been thought of that doesn't have anything to do with the 12th dimension. Anyway, the primary reason why we sleep isn't because we need REM, or dreams, or to recharge the brain, or to organize memories, or to clean out the subconscious, or any of that other crap that people are saying.
The reason why we need sleep is so that we can divide our lives into days. Imagine one continuous, conscious life, without any concept of tomorrow. Life would become unendurable if there wasn't a tomorrow to look forward to. Everything can change tomorrow, right? Because it is another day, another chance to get it right. Now, if there were no such thing as sleep, every problem we have would just continue to build up and up and UP and UP AND UP AND UP!!! Until we 'splode.
So, in order to prevent the 'sploding from happening, we need to experience oblivion now and again, to get a fresh start and a second chance on things... to have a feeling that we are 'starting anew'. Tomorrow is always a second chance, no matter that most people have thousands of tomorrows to look forward to. It's only the 2nd tomorrow that matters, which is every tomorrow. All of the other things, like dreaming and recharging and all of that hogwash, are just secondary factors to the primary need not to 'splode.
Not to say that 'all of that hogwash' isn't necessary. It's just a side effect of the main purpose of sleep... to give us another chance. We all need another chance, right?
The reason why we need sleep is so that we can divide our lives into days. Imagine one continuous, conscious life, without any concept of tomorrow. Life would become unendurable if there wasn't a tomorrow to look forward to. Everything can change tomorrow, right? Because it is another day, another chance to get it right. Now, if there were no such thing as sleep, every problem we have would just continue to build up and up and UP and UP AND UP AND UP!!! Until we 'splode.
So, in order to prevent the 'sploding from happening, we need to experience oblivion now and again, to get a fresh start and a second chance on things... to have a feeling that we are 'starting anew'. Tomorrow is always a second chance, no matter that most people have thousands of tomorrows to look forward to. It's only the 2nd tomorrow that matters, which is every tomorrow. All of the other things, like dreaming and recharging and all of that hogwash, are just secondary factors to the primary need not to 'splode.
Not to say that 'all of that hogwash' isn't necessary. It's just a side effect of the main purpose of sleep... to give us another chance. We all need another chance, right?
Friday, October 8, 2010
Wednesday, October 6, 2010
Ugh
Yesterday at work, Ryan and I spent about an hour in the cooler. I was constantly having to go grab a napkin to blow my nose. I figured it was just because it was cold in there, but by the time I got home, every time I swallowed my throat hurt.
I didn't actually fall asleep until about 6:00 am because every time I'd shift positions, the greeblies in my sinuses would drain to the other side and my ears would pop.
So I woke up at 10:00 this morning with a head that's completely stuffed up, ears that go from deaf to pain, and the only thing that doesn't hurt when I swallow it is ice cream (thanks Matt, I ate most of your Chocolate Fudge Chunk).
I didn't actually fall asleep until about 6:00 am because every time I'd shift positions, the greeblies in my sinuses would drain to the other side and my ears would pop.
So I woke up at 10:00 this morning with a head that's completely stuffed up, ears that go from deaf to pain, and the only thing that doesn't hurt when I swallow it is ice cream (thanks Matt, I ate most of your Chocolate Fudge Chunk).
Tuesday, October 5, 2010
Chilly
Tonight is kind of chilly. The first chilly night I've experienced since I've been back in Denton. At first I thought it was chilly for September, but then I realized it is October. Remembering that it is October reminded me of two years ago, when I first met Leah. We first started trading MySpace messages in October of '08. That line of thought made me think of how cold it got later that year. I remember one night when Leah was working second shift at 7-Eleven and it was sleeting. I was hanging out with her there, and when she got off work and we tried to get into my car to leave, my car doors had frozen shut. I don't remember why my keys wouldn't work, but Leah and I had to walk halfway to my house with an umbrella protecting us from the sleet to get the spare keys from Matt. That is a memory I will always cherish, us walking together in the cold, sleet falling all around us, huddled up together under that umbrella.
Monday, October 4, 2010
7-Eleven
Well, I survived my first day at work at 7-Eleven, again. Chiy is pretty nice, and an alright dude as far as I'm concerned. However, he is one cheap sonofabitch. He wants us to re-use the little plastic gloves for handling hot dogs and taquitos. As in, use one pair all day. And when the hot dogs turn to beef jerky on the roller grill? Why, there's nothing wrong with them. Sell them fuckers! It's an added bonus... beef jerky flavored hot dogs! And the paper towels. We aren't allowed to use paper towels, period. I don't really get that part, but that's basically the case. Third shift are the only ones who are allowed to use paper towels, because they have to clean the 'vision', as Chiy calls the windows. There's a special place where they keep the paper towels, in the back room above the place where wine is stored. Don't touch those towels! They're for third shift!
Oh. And it's perfectly ok to let a pot of coffee sit for hours and hours and hours. I'm guessing the reason for this is so that the decaf will transform into dark mountain with extra caffeine. After all, why throw out perfectly good coffee that improves with age? Chiy saw me dumping a pot that was 3/4 empty and had to pull me aside and give me the 'waste not, want not' talk.
And about the garbage. Chiy saw me emptying the garbage behind the counter near the sink, which was only 3/4 full. He commended me on my initiative, but made it clear that the garbage should only be emptied when it's about to overflow. Saves money on trash bags, you see. Oh, and blue paper towels are to be used ONLY as refills for the paper towel dispensers at the gas tanks, and for no other reason under any circumstance.
Now, about the hot food. As much as I hate to, I have to ask each and every customer, up until 7:00, if they would like two slices of pizza for $2.00. I forgot to do this a couple of times, and Chiy noticed. He walked up to me with a big smile, patted me on the back, and said, "I'll give you a couple of weeks to get the hang of it." The smile did not reach his eyes. I took this to mean, "I'm paying you the big bucks so you will increase my profits, so you better not fuck up! You have two weeks to get your shit together!"
I worked with Brittney today. I remembered everything pretty well, but I still had to ask her to help me every once in a while. It was weird... when I worked at 7-Eleven before, I was the one training her and answering her questions. It was weird having to ask her how to ring up a money order, and where the banana key was, and how to scan a lottery ticket. Still, she was a point of familiarity for me in this imminently familiar yet strangely unknown environment.
For example... I have a new code now, but I kept punching in my old 4 digit code into the register to log on. I did that several times out of sheer habit. I remember when Ryan and I used to race to see who could log in the fastest. I was pretty damn fast back then... it will take me a while to get that fast again with the new code. Also, there used to be a trash can right next to the sink. It's moved a little to the left now, and I found myself trying to throw stuff where the trash can used to be, again, out of sheer habit. The coffee trough was exactly the same though... I made coffee like a pro and didn't flood the coffee trough once. I saw a lot of old familiar customers who were surprised to see me and welcomed me back like we were old friends. The mailman was the most vocal and enthusiastic about my presence there. Made me feel kind of good that a lot of the old regulars recognized me.
So, my responsibilities as the Ass. Manager of 2nd shift are to keep the cooler stocked, mop the floor every two hours or so, keep the coffee trough wiped down, plus-sell pizza to every single customer, and make Chiy lots and lots and lots and lots of money. In a couple of weeks, if I pass the initial muster, Chiy will let me start ordering stuff again. Joy.
So here I am again at Shmevin Eleven. It's actually a little sad being there now, what with all of the good old memories from before... hot dog bun fights, AHHHHHH Terry, payrolling cigarettes for Flower Lady, working with Leah... but life goes on and I'll probably make new memories over the next year or so that I'll be nostalgic about all over again.
Oh. And it's perfectly ok to let a pot of coffee sit for hours and hours and hours. I'm guessing the reason for this is so that the decaf will transform into dark mountain with extra caffeine. After all, why throw out perfectly good coffee that improves with age? Chiy saw me dumping a pot that was 3/4 empty and had to pull me aside and give me the 'waste not, want not' talk.
And about the garbage. Chiy saw me emptying the garbage behind the counter near the sink, which was only 3/4 full. He commended me on my initiative, but made it clear that the garbage should only be emptied when it's about to overflow. Saves money on trash bags, you see. Oh, and blue paper towels are to be used ONLY as refills for the paper towel dispensers at the gas tanks, and for no other reason under any circumstance.
Now, about the hot food. As much as I hate to, I have to ask each and every customer, up until 7:00, if they would like two slices of pizza for $2.00. I forgot to do this a couple of times, and Chiy noticed. He walked up to me with a big smile, patted me on the back, and said, "I'll give you a couple of weeks to get the hang of it." The smile did not reach his eyes. I took this to mean, "I'm paying you the big bucks so you will increase my profits, so you better not fuck up! You have two weeks to get your shit together!"
I worked with Brittney today. I remembered everything pretty well, but I still had to ask her to help me every once in a while. It was weird... when I worked at 7-Eleven before, I was the one training her and answering her questions. It was weird having to ask her how to ring up a money order, and where the banana key was, and how to scan a lottery ticket. Still, she was a point of familiarity for me in this imminently familiar yet strangely unknown environment.
For example... I have a new code now, but I kept punching in my old 4 digit code into the register to log on. I did that several times out of sheer habit. I remember when Ryan and I used to race to see who could log in the fastest. I was pretty damn fast back then... it will take me a while to get that fast again with the new code. Also, there used to be a trash can right next to the sink. It's moved a little to the left now, and I found myself trying to throw stuff where the trash can used to be, again, out of sheer habit. The coffee trough was exactly the same though... I made coffee like a pro and didn't flood the coffee trough once. I saw a lot of old familiar customers who were surprised to see me and welcomed me back like we were old friends. The mailman was the most vocal and enthusiastic about my presence there. Made me feel kind of good that a lot of the old regulars recognized me.
So, my responsibilities as the Ass. Manager of 2nd shift are to keep the cooler stocked, mop the floor every two hours or so, keep the coffee trough wiped down, plus-sell pizza to every single customer, and make Chiy lots and lots and lots and lots of money. In a couple of weeks, if I pass the initial muster, Chiy will let me start ordering stuff again. Joy.
So here I am again at Shmevin Eleven. It's actually a little sad being there now, what with all of the good old memories from before... hot dog bun fights, AHHHHHH Terry, payrolling cigarettes for Flower Lady, working with Leah... but life goes on and I'll probably make new memories over the next year or so that I'll be nostalgic about all over again.
Monday, September 20, 2010
The radio
Ugh... hell, I'm awake now, so I might as well write about this.
It's 12:21. About 30 minutes ago, I woke up to an echoing announcers voice coming in from outside. It sounded like some kind of emergency. I couldn't make out what was being said, but it was definitely coming from outside, and echoing off of the hills. Puzzled, I started to become more alert... what the hell is it saying?
Still a little sleep addled, I heard the words 'ground zero'. I sat up and became more awake... what did I just hear? Why is somebody outside announcing... ground zero, over a speaker or something? Is this some kind of public announcement? The voice went on in, what seemed to me, to be frantic tones. A jumped off of the couch and ran to the window. I leaned my head out...
...and it was coming from about two floors up, to the right. Just a radio. Somebody had talk radio on, blaring out the window, echoing off of the mountains, for all of Ketchikan to enjoy. I digested this information for about 5 minutes, and started to get just a TEENY bit peeved, so I leaned out of my own window and yelled, at the top of my voice, when the radio paused, "CAN YOU PLEASE TURN THAT DOWN?"
After about 15 seconds, no change. I tried again. "HEY, YOU WITH THE WINDOW OPEN AND THE RADIO ON, COULD YOU PLEASE TURN THAT DOWN?" Again, no reply. I looked around for something to throw up there, to get their attention. I found a couple of pennies and threw them, but didn't even get close.
YEESH. This called for action, I guess, so I threw on my pants and went on up to the 10th floor. It was either the 10th floor window or the 11th, so I'd try the 10th first. Makes sense, no? So, I listen to the next two doors down from mine, that is... in a relative manner, judging from my floor up to theirs, and heard nothing. I went on up to the 11th floor and did the same. From the first door, I heard music. I was just about to knock, but it wasn't music I'd been hearing, it had been talk. I went to the other door and listened... THERE IT WAS. TALK. Loud talk coming through that door. I knocked. And knocked. And knocked. And knocked.
I was just about to give up and leave, when I suddenly just got furious. Are they ignoring me, or just asleep? Do I have to listen to this all night? I'd already tried shutting my own window; it didn't work. So, I KNOCKED!!!
I heard a stumbling around inside! I stood there, careful to look up at the peep hole so they'd see me. A long time went by, so I thought I'd try actually talking.
"Hello in there!" and I waited for about 15 seconds. I heard somebody mess with the doorknob, and thought it was about to open, but it didn't. So, I said it again:
"Hello in there! Could you please turn your radio down? Either that, or shut your window? It's blaring out over the countryside like a megaphone, and we can hear it two floors down!"
I waited for a while and got no response. Then the radio turned down... and then it went back up, even louder! ARRRRGHH...
"Will you please open the door so I can talk to you?"
I waited some more, about another 30 seconds, with no change in the radio and nobody opening the door. I was at the point of just... disbelief now, or denial or something.
"You aren't even going to open the door so you can hear me? Just turn your radio down, please?"
Then I hear the radio go down abruptly, and a voice from within... "Saheee." I assume this means "Sorry." I at first thought that maybe this lack of communication was due to a language barrier, but the radio had been blaring in the Queens English. I think it was more due to a lack of wanting to open the door, probably because of some long haired freaky looking mustachioed man standing outside at midnight and banging on it like a lunatic.
Anyway, the radio is down now. Hopefully it will stay that way... but I'm up... :p
It's 12:21. About 30 minutes ago, I woke up to an echoing announcers voice coming in from outside. It sounded like some kind of emergency. I couldn't make out what was being said, but it was definitely coming from outside, and echoing off of the hills. Puzzled, I started to become more alert... what the hell is it saying?
Still a little sleep addled, I heard the words 'ground zero'. I sat up and became more awake... what did I just hear? Why is somebody outside announcing... ground zero, over a speaker or something? Is this some kind of public announcement? The voice went on in, what seemed to me, to be frantic tones. A jumped off of the couch and ran to the window. I leaned my head out...
...and it was coming from about two floors up, to the right. Just a radio. Somebody had talk radio on, blaring out the window, echoing off of the mountains, for all of Ketchikan to enjoy. I digested this information for about 5 minutes, and started to get just a TEENY bit peeved, so I leaned out of my own window and yelled, at the top of my voice, when the radio paused, "CAN YOU PLEASE TURN THAT DOWN?"
After about 15 seconds, no change. I tried again. "HEY, YOU WITH THE WINDOW OPEN AND THE RADIO ON, COULD YOU PLEASE TURN THAT DOWN?" Again, no reply. I looked around for something to throw up there, to get their attention. I found a couple of pennies and threw them, but didn't even get close.
YEESH. This called for action, I guess, so I threw on my pants and went on up to the 10th floor. It was either the 10th floor window or the 11th, so I'd try the 10th first. Makes sense, no? So, I listen to the next two doors down from mine, that is... in a relative manner, judging from my floor up to theirs, and heard nothing. I went on up to the 11th floor and did the same. From the first door, I heard music. I was just about to knock, but it wasn't music I'd been hearing, it had been talk. I went to the other door and listened... THERE IT WAS. TALK. Loud talk coming through that door. I knocked. And knocked. And knocked. And knocked.
I was just about to give up and leave, when I suddenly just got furious. Are they ignoring me, or just asleep? Do I have to listen to this all night? I'd already tried shutting my own window; it didn't work. So, I KNOCKED!!!
I heard a stumbling around inside! I stood there, careful to look up at the peep hole so they'd see me. A long time went by, so I thought I'd try actually talking.
"Hello in there!" and I waited for about 15 seconds. I heard somebody mess with the doorknob, and thought it was about to open, but it didn't. So, I said it again:
"Hello in there! Could you please turn your radio down? Either that, or shut your window? It's blaring out over the countryside like a megaphone, and we can hear it two floors down!"
I waited for a while and got no response. Then the radio turned down... and then it went back up, even louder! ARRRRGHH...
"Will you please open the door so I can talk to you?"
I waited some more, about another 30 seconds, with no change in the radio and nobody opening the door. I was at the point of just... disbelief now, or denial or something.
"You aren't even going to open the door so you can hear me? Just turn your radio down, please?"
Then I hear the radio go down abruptly, and a voice from within... "Saheee." I assume this means "Sorry." I at first thought that maybe this lack of communication was due to a language barrier, but the radio had been blaring in the Queens English. I think it was more due to a lack of wanting to open the door, probably because of some long haired freaky looking mustachioed man standing outside at midnight and banging on it like a lunatic.
Anyway, the radio is down now. Hopefully it will stay that way... but I'm up... :p
Wednesday, September 15, 2010
Oh boy.
Maria says she's in love with me. She's only 19, she's a kid... she's horribly depressed. I talked to her last night on the phone for about two hours, trying to figure out a way to cheer her up. A preview of my future counseling sessions, I think. I don't want this poor depressed kid to be in love with me or be heartbroken when I leave. She doesn't even know me, but she's asking me if she can come home with me!
Lord, what do I do about this situation?
Lord, what do I do about this situation?
Maria, again.
I was across the street just a little while ago, across from the apartment. Looking for alcohol... I was on a mission. Just a short hop to pick up something to drink. A bottle of rum, a 6 pack, something. And some cold medicine, too.
So there I was, at Safeway, and I couldn't make up my mind... I was thinking, am I going to buy cold medicine, or alcohol? Both? I walked around for a bit, found the cold medicine; picked it up. Cold medicine in hand, doing good so far... but if I buy this, thought I, then I won't have enough for a bottle of rum. This bothered me somewhat.
After a few seconds of careful contemplation, this didn't bother me anymore. Everything will work itself out... that's the thought that ran through my mind at the time. So, I took the cold medicine to the counter and browsed the alcohol section (Safeway has a liquor store built in that sells the straight stuff at all hours, ain't that cool?). Anywho, after a minute or two, I realized that I didn't have enough for both cold medicine and alcohol. Duh, and damn. What's it going to be, cold medicine or alcohol? I let other customers go head of me while I decided.
Ok, that's it. I took the cold medicine back and put it on the shelf. I had decided on alcohol... it seemed wise at the time. BUT, I wasn't gonna buy it at Safeway. Somehow I felt like they didn't deserve my money, since I didn't have enough cash for medicine AND alcohol. I'll take my business elsewhere, thank you, evil corporation, for requiring more money than I have in my pocket. Does that make sense? No, and I understand that. However, I routinely act on information that makes no sense. That's just me, though.
So, thusly armed with a megadose of pride and feeling right about everything, I marched right out of those doors and right into New Town Liquor. It's only right next door. Right there, in fact, in the same building. Just a short jaunt through an indoor hallway, a shortcut through the mall, and there you are. Or, there I am. Take that, Safeway, for not letting me afford beyond my means. But, I didn't go into the liquor store...
Maybe I should digress for a minute. The Safeway and the New Town Liquor store are both in the same building, which happens to be a mall. Yeah, there is an actual mall here in Ketchikan, barely thriving with half of the stores closed, and dark, even on Saturdays. This mall is right across the street from my apartment, and they used to have a Waldenbooks here but it closed in April of this year. The only real bookstore here in Ketchikan. I bought a book the last time I was here in '07, and now it's closed... just like the other half of the mall. I gotta say, when I first arrived here and realized that there was no bookstore; man oh man, not only did I feel a little bit lost, but I was kind of pissed, too. But this was before I discovered the public library...
...anywho, it was only a short march out of the Safeway and into the Mall, and across the Mall Hall was the New Town Liquor store, which was where I intended to go. Only... I didn't go there. Instead, I decided to just loiter there in the Mall Hall. I dunno why I did this, I just did. Call it an act of impulse. A compulsive act. Whatever. So, I decided to delay my liquor purchase on some unexplainable whim. Sorry for the buildup; it probably means nothing in the Great Scheme Of Things Involving Me... but allow me to elucidate anyway.
The Mall still had functional escalators, which is kind of remarkable. I went up the escalator, and on the way up, I looked across at the down escalator directly across from me (which was also functional... in a redundant way), and saw what looked to me to be a very old lady... sunken eye sockets, stringy hair, thin, tiny; going down. I describe this as accurately as I remember it. I didn't think twice about this old lady until I reached the top.
After I had almost forgotten about this, after I had almost relegated it from short term memory into oblivion, after I had stepped off of the escalator, this old lady had suddenly rushed up to me, and was giving me a hug. WTF? thought I. I stepped back and recognized the old lady... and by the way, this next part kind of freaked me out at the time.
It was Maria, the 19 year old girl who I had met about a month ago; the one who had poured out her life story to me while I was at work, the one who had described to me the horrible things that had happened to her. This was the young vibrant girl, full of energy that day, who I had just then (now) seen (had seen, was seeing) as an old, withered lady, going down the escalator as I went up the escalator. This girl is 19 years old - her name is Maria. Why did I see her as an old lady? How did that happen? I just don't understand that at all.
I remembered her confession to me that day - me, a complete stranger - about how she had been horribly raped. There I was, having a random encounter with her, in the mall; not unlike the random encounter in the store that day. This is a young girl, not an old lady; young and pretty and exuberant, and I know her; kind of. It's hard to describe how odd this feels to me, so I won't even try, except to say that it was... is... it feels important, somehow.
Her mom was there, calling to her, to come back down the escalator. Maria ignored her mom and kept hugging me. Then she immediately went into high gear, talking, telling me things about her life since we had last talked, telling me more things, confiding more personal information, a torrent of emotional communication which I tried to keep up with.
We talked about stuff. She told me stuff, I told her stuff. She's very young - so young. What is her life going to be like, I wondered? Will it consist of more pain? Will it get better? What is up with this girl? We talked and walked for a while, there on the upper floor of this dead mall. Suddenly it hit me that she should be with her mom, who most likely is wondering what the hell happened to her daughter, and who is that stranger she ran up to and hugged? The next thing I thought was that I'm leaving here, very soon, and I worried, as I am wont to do. I pulled her into the nearest store, intent on asking the clerk for a pen.
"I'm going to give you my phone number and facebook page, because I'm leaving soon. I'm going back to Texas in a week. Are you on facebook?" I felt really protective of her, in a big way, right then (I still do). I didn't want her out of contact with me in case she needed to talk about something...
Maria, flustered. "No, but I'll make a page."
We wait in line for a few moments, so I can get a pen. The proprietor tries to sell us one, until I make it clear that I only want to borrow, not buy. This little episode passes, and we finally get to the counter after a few moments of weird silence. I procure the pen, and write down my phone number and facebook info.
"Look up my name on facebook, ok? When you make your page?"
"Maria, lets go!" Maria's mom is there, at the top of the escalator, looking at us in the store. She doesn't look happy. She's probably very worried - I sure hope so - about who the hell this guy is, this weird... person whom her daughter is talking to; who she's been walking with on the upper floors of a half deserted mall for the past 10 minutes. I felt embarrassed and guilty.
I give Maria the piece of paper with the info on it.
"Take care." I waved at her. And, "Be careful!" I say as...
...she disappears down the escalator with her mom. She has a mom; a mom who should take care of her. Who is worried about her. A mom who cares about her.
I hang out for a bit, thinking about what just happened.
I also wonder why I alternate between 1st and 3rd person when I write stuff like this.
Past and present tense, rather, I should say. I get my tenses and persons mixed up.
So there I was, at Safeway, and I couldn't make up my mind... I was thinking, am I going to buy cold medicine, or alcohol? Both? I walked around for a bit, found the cold medicine; picked it up. Cold medicine in hand, doing good so far... but if I buy this, thought I, then I won't have enough for a bottle of rum. This bothered me somewhat.
After a few seconds of careful contemplation, this didn't bother me anymore. Everything will work itself out... that's the thought that ran through my mind at the time. So, I took the cold medicine to the counter and browsed the alcohol section (Safeway has a liquor store built in that sells the straight stuff at all hours, ain't that cool?). Anywho, after a minute or two, I realized that I didn't have enough for both cold medicine and alcohol. Duh, and damn. What's it going to be, cold medicine or alcohol? I let other customers go head of me while I decided.
Ok, that's it. I took the cold medicine back and put it on the shelf. I had decided on alcohol... it seemed wise at the time. BUT, I wasn't gonna buy it at Safeway. Somehow I felt like they didn't deserve my money, since I didn't have enough cash for medicine AND alcohol. I'll take my business elsewhere, thank you, evil corporation, for requiring more money than I have in my pocket. Does that make sense? No, and I understand that. However, I routinely act on information that makes no sense. That's just me, though.
So, thusly armed with a megadose of pride and feeling right about everything, I marched right out of those doors and right into New Town Liquor. It's only right next door. Right there, in fact, in the same building. Just a short jaunt through an indoor hallway, a shortcut through the mall, and there you are. Or, there I am. Take that, Safeway, for not letting me afford beyond my means. But, I didn't go into the liquor store...
Maybe I should digress for a minute. The Safeway and the New Town Liquor store are both in the same building, which happens to be a mall. Yeah, there is an actual mall here in Ketchikan, barely thriving with half of the stores closed, and dark, even on Saturdays. This mall is right across the street from my apartment, and they used to have a Waldenbooks here but it closed in April of this year. The only real bookstore here in Ketchikan. I bought a book the last time I was here in '07, and now it's closed... just like the other half of the mall. I gotta say, when I first arrived here and realized that there was no bookstore; man oh man, not only did I feel a little bit lost, but I was kind of pissed, too. But this was before I discovered the public library...
...anywho, it was only a short march out of the Safeway and into the Mall, and across the Mall Hall was the New Town Liquor store, which was where I intended to go. Only... I didn't go there. Instead, I decided to just loiter there in the Mall Hall. I dunno why I did this, I just did. Call it an act of impulse. A compulsive act. Whatever. So, I decided to delay my liquor purchase on some unexplainable whim. Sorry for the buildup; it probably means nothing in the Great Scheme Of Things Involving Me... but allow me to elucidate anyway.
The Mall still had functional escalators, which is kind of remarkable. I went up the escalator, and on the way up, I looked across at the down escalator directly across from me (which was also functional... in a redundant way), and saw what looked to me to be a very old lady... sunken eye sockets, stringy hair, thin, tiny; going down. I describe this as accurately as I remember it. I didn't think twice about this old lady until I reached the top.
After I had almost forgotten about this, after I had almost relegated it from short term memory into oblivion, after I had stepped off of the escalator, this old lady had suddenly rushed up to me, and was giving me a hug. WTF? thought I. I stepped back and recognized the old lady... and by the way, this next part kind of freaked me out at the time.
It was Maria, the 19 year old girl who I had met about a month ago; the one who had poured out her life story to me while I was at work, the one who had described to me the horrible things that had happened to her. This was the young vibrant girl, full of energy that day, who I had just then (now) seen (had seen, was seeing) as an old, withered lady, going down the escalator as I went up the escalator. This girl is 19 years old - her name is Maria. Why did I see her as an old lady? How did that happen? I just don't understand that at all.
I remembered her confession to me that day - me, a complete stranger - about how she had been horribly raped. There I was, having a random encounter with her, in the mall; not unlike the random encounter in the store that day. This is a young girl, not an old lady; young and pretty and exuberant, and I know her; kind of. It's hard to describe how odd this feels to me, so I won't even try, except to say that it was... is... it feels important, somehow.
Her mom was there, calling to her, to come back down the escalator. Maria ignored her mom and kept hugging me. Then she immediately went into high gear, talking, telling me things about her life since we had last talked, telling me more things, confiding more personal information, a torrent of emotional communication which I tried to keep up with.
We talked about stuff. She told me stuff, I told her stuff. She's very young - so young. What is her life going to be like, I wondered? Will it consist of more pain? Will it get better? What is up with this girl? We talked and walked for a while, there on the upper floor of this dead mall. Suddenly it hit me that she should be with her mom, who most likely is wondering what the hell happened to her daughter, and who is that stranger she ran up to and hugged? The next thing I thought was that I'm leaving here, very soon, and I worried, as I am wont to do. I pulled her into the nearest store, intent on asking the clerk for a pen.
"I'm going to give you my phone number and facebook page, because I'm leaving soon. I'm going back to Texas in a week. Are you on facebook?" I felt really protective of her, in a big way, right then (I still do). I didn't want her out of contact with me in case she needed to talk about something...
Maria, flustered. "No, but I'll make a page."
We wait in line for a few moments, so I can get a pen. The proprietor tries to sell us one, until I make it clear that I only want to borrow, not buy. This little episode passes, and we finally get to the counter after a few moments of weird silence. I procure the pen, and write down my phone number and facebook info.
"Look up my name on facebook, ok? When you make your page?"
"Maria, lets go!" Maria's mom is there, at the top of the escalator, looking at us in the store. She doesn't look happy. She's probably very worried - I sure hope so - about who the hell this guy is, this weird... person whom her daughter is talking to; who she's been walking with on the upper floors of a half deserted mall for the past 10 minutes. I felt embarrassed and guilty.
I give Maria the piece of paper with the info on it.
"Take care." I waved at her. And, "Be careful!" I say as...
...she disappears down the escalator with her mom. She has a mom; a mom who should take care of her. Who is worried about her. A mom who cares about her.
I hang out for a bit, thinking about what just happened.
I also wonder why I alternate between 1st and 3rd person when I write stuff like this.
Past and present tense, rather, I should say. I get my tenses and persons mixed up.
Tuesday, September 14, 2010
Memories
Memories... light the corners of my mind...
Misty water colored memories...
Of The Dark Tower.
Misty water colored memories...
Of The Dark Tower.
Monday, September 13, 2010
The spider
For about 6 months a spider lived in my bathroom windowsill. Every morning I'd walk into the bathroom and the spider would be there, just nestled up in his super complex network of web. It was a pretty big one. Sometimes I'd blow really hard at the spider and it would kind of jiggle it's legs a little, but otherwise it wouldn't move at all.
Every few days or couple of weeks I'd notice one of those mosquito moths or a fly trapped in there with it, so I supposed that it was at least moving enough to eat now and then, but I never saw it move of its own volition. One day I noticed a nice little egg sac in the web. I guess the spider had moved around enough to get pregnant, but otherwise it was always in the same place.
This went on for a few months, this spider and its egg sac. I began to become irritated that this spider was here in my house, living its own little life and even starting a family, and it wasn't paying a lick of rent! But at least it wasn't eating my food...
This irritation grew a little bit every day. It made no sense at all, but there you have it... irritation at a spider for living in my house and not contributing a damn thing. Then one morning I walked into the bathroom and the spider wasn't there anymore, and neither was the egg sac. Damn, what happened to the spider? What happened to the egg sac, for that matter? Did the little buggers hatch and eat the sac? Or did the mama spider finally get tired of absorbing my psychic irritation every day and pack up, egg sac and all, for greener pastures?
Well, I was surprised to find that I actually kind of missed the spider, my morning bathroom companion.
Every few days or couple of weeks I'd notice one of those mosquito moths or a fly trapped in there with it, so I supposed that it was at least moving enough to eat now and then, but I never saw it move of its own volition. One day I noticed a nice little egg sac in the web. I guess the spider had moved around enough to get pregnant, but otherwise it was always in the same place.
This went on for a few months, this spider and its egg sac. I began to become irritated that this spider was here in my house, living its own little life and even starting a family, and it wasn't paying a lick of rent! But at least it wasn't eating my food...
This irritation grew a little bit every day. It made no sense at all, but there you have it... irritation at a spider for living in my house and not contributing a damn thing. Then one morning I walked into the bathroom and the spider wasn't there anymore, and neither was the egg sac. Damn, what happened to the spider? What happened to the egg sac, for that matter? Did the little buggers hatch and eat the sac? Or did the mama spider finally get tired of absorbing my psychic irritation every day and pack up, egg sac and all, for greener pastures?
Well, I was surprised to find that I actually kind of missed the spider, my morning bathroom companion.
Sunday, September 12, 2010
:p
I'm so sick of this shit I could puke coat hangers.
Tired doesn't even come close to describing it. More like wretchedly weary. Worn down to the bone.
Angry, at this situation. Angry at customers. Angry at being here. Too tired to be angry. Anger just dissolves into apathy.
This last week is the worst, just remarkably bad. I know why, of course, but I'm too tired to really give a shit. I don't want to open my mouth and say another word until I'm far away from here. I want to sleep now and wake up at home.
There is danger in being away from the church.
Tired doesn't even come close to describing it. More like wretchedly weary. Worn down to the bone.
Angry, at this situation. Angry at customers. Angry at being here. Too tired to be angry. Anger just dissolves into apathy.
This last week is the worst, just remarkably bad. I know why, of course, but I'm too tired to really give a shit. I don't want to open my mouth and say another word until I'm far away from here. I want to sleep now and wake up at home.
There is danger in being away from the church.
Saturday, September 11, 2010
Laundry day
Oh boy, what an emotional day. E.T. is on TV and I'm crying as I watch it, remembering how I was the same age as Elliot when this movie came out. I'm such a crybaby nowadays, anything emotional will set me off.
Oh yeah, laundry... I went out into the hall, careful to wipe my eyes. Right as the door opened, a man and his little son, about 4 years old, stepped up to the elevator. Oh great, here I am all teary eyed and barefoot and now somebody else has to witness it...
So we all get into the elevator. The little boy immediately pipes up. "Where are you going? I'm going down. On the other side. Which side are you going on?" By sides, he means, either the lobby or the basement, as depending on which floor you stop, you wind up on opposite sides of the building. "We're going on THAT side. Where are you going?" I looked down at this little kid.
"I'm going to do laundry."
"Where is your laundry? Why don't you have a bag of laundry?"
"It's already down there. In the washer. I'm going down to dry it."
"How did you get that mustache??"
At this point the father chuckles, the door opens, and they walk out into the lobby. I laughed out loud.
"I grew it!" The doors shut and I could see the little kid looking at me wide eyed, at my mustache, I'm guessing.
Oh yeah, laundry... I went out into the hall, careful to wipe my eyes. Right as the door opened, a man and his little son, about 4 years old, stepped up to the elevator. Oh great, here I am all teary eyed and barefoot and now somebody else has to witness it...
So we all get into the elevator. The little boy immediately pipes up. "Where are you going? I'm going down. On the other side. Which side are you going on?" By sides, he means, either the lobby or the basement, as depending on which floor you stop, you wind up on opposite sides of the building. "We're going on THAT side. Where are you going?" I looked down at this little kid.
"I'm going to do laundry."
"Where is your laundry? Why don't you have a bag of laundry?"
"It's already down there. In the washer. I'm going down to dry it."
"How did you get that mustache??"
At this point the father chuckles, the door opens, and they walk out into the lobby. I laughed out loud.
"I grew it!" The doors shut and I could see the little kid looking at me wide eyed, at my mustache, I'm guessing.
Thursday, September 9, 2010
Do it
Tonight I took a walk. It was my first walk in a few weeks. I've been feeling really down lately; not only depressed but physically ill. It's the enemy fucking with me because the time is getting close to go home where I'll be back in contact with my church. So, it makes sense that the full frontal assault should happen now.
Anyway, today I said fuck that, and felt a little better. Good enough to take one of what used to be my normal walks. So, I started off at about 6:30 with the idea in my mind to do another video blog. My camera kept running out of memory though, which was weird, because there is plenty of memory on my card... so after about three tries at this, I decided to say fuck it, I'm not supposed to do a video blog. So I kept walking.
I got downtown and a woman was walking in my direction. We made eye contact. My usual habit after making eye contact with a passing stranger is to immediately disconnect, but for some reason, I kept the contact until we were face to face, and of course, a conversation became obligatory.
The first thing she asked was 'Say man, you know where I can get some 4:20?' This is nothing new to me. I have 'the look', and people ask me this all the time, as was demonstrated tonight, and as I will now recount. She said 'You look like you might know where to get some'. Like I said. I told her, no, sorry, but I don't smoke weed. And from there, it became this long exchange of stories about our own personal histories of drug abuse, and how getting old is such a surprise.
After exchanging life stories, she asked me what I was going to do when I got home. I told her, 'I want to get into counseling so I can help other addicts like myself'. She smiled the biggest smile and said, 'Yeah man. That's great. Do it, man. Do it.' She walked closer to me and took my hand and stood there, looking me straight in the eye, holding my hand. 'Do it, man. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.' She let go of my hand and started to walk away, all the while looking at me as she departed, saying, 'Do it. Do it, man. Do it.'
Anyway, today I said fuck that, and felt a little better. Good enough to take one of what used to be my normal walks. So, I started off at about 6:30 with the idea in my mind to do another video blog. My camera kept running out of memory though, which was weird, because there is plenty of memory on my card... so after about three tries at this, I decided to say fuck it, I'm not supposed to do a video blog. So I kept walking.
I got downtown and a woman was walking in my direction. We made eye contact. My usual habit after making eye contact with a passing stranger is to immediately disconnect, but for some reason, I kept the contact until we were face to face, and of course, a conversation became obligatory.
The first thing she asked was 'Say man, you know where I can get some 4:20?' This is nothing new to me. I have 'the look', and people ask me this all the time, as was demonstrated tonight, and as I will now recount. She said 'You look like you might know where to get some'. Like I said. I told her, no, sorry, but I don't smoke weed. And from there, it became this long exchange of stories about our own personal histories of drug abuse, and how getting old is such a surprise.
After exchanging life stories, she asked me what I was going to do when I got home. I told her, 'I want to get into counseling so I can help other addicts like myself'. She smiled the biggest smile and said, 'Yeah man. That's great. Do it, man. Do it.' She walked closer to me and took my hand and stood there, looking me straight in the eye, holding my hand. 'Do it, man. Do it. Do it. Do it. Do it.' She let go of my hand and started to walk away, all the while looking at me as she departed, saying, 'Do it. Do it, man. Do it.'
Sunday, September 5, 2010
Cold, wet, and windy
Today is the first really cold day we've had this year in Ketchikan. First off, it's windy, and I do mean WINDY. The scarves on the T-stand outside kept blowing off, and I actually had to pull up the hood of my hoodie so that I wouldn't freeze to death while standing outside taking a smoke break.
And it's cold. Weatherbug says it was 51 degrees, but that's at the airport, across the ocean on the other island. Maybe it's 51 degrees there, but here on the Ketchikan island, it's downright cold. Cold, as in, I really do have to pull my hood up over my head (nevermind that it makes a mess of my hair), tuck in my shirt (to keep the wind from blowing up my tummy :::shiver:::), and pull the sleeves up over my hands so that the wind don't bite them off.
And WET. As we say here in Ketchikan, where they call rain 'liquid sunshine', and the average amount is about 12 feet a year, it's raining sideways. Or more accurately; imagine a 25 degree angle upward from the zero degree horizontal. The rain is following that line, blowing down from the upper right to the lower left. Almost sideways, anyway. Good enough for government work.
So... if there's two things mixed together that I absolutely can't stand, that is... two things mixed together that I HATE, other than peanut butter and mayonnaise, it's cold and wet, both occupying the same place at the same time. And the wind only makes it worse. Let me add that to the list... three things mixed together that I absolutely can't stand. Cold, wet, and WIND. Welcome, wind, to my hate list. Not that I didn't already hate you all by yourself, because you just love to blow my hair around so that it's a bona-fide workout before I go to bed just to get the tangles out, complete with sore shoulders and biceps in the morning. But now, wind, you get to have friends. Cold and wet, meet wind. Wind, meet cold and wet. Misery loves company, so they say.
Speaking of sayings... like my mom used to say, "It's colder than a witches tit in a brass bra outside." Please excuse the crude metaphor, simile, or idiom, whatever it is. But I always thought that was funny, so in order to make the horrible cold wet wind more bearable, I use that crude phrase to describe it because it makes me chuckle. Thanks mom. :)
And it's cold. Weatherbug says it was 51 degrees, but that's at the airport, across the ocean on the other island. Maybe it's 51 degrees there, but here on the Ketchikan island, it's downright cold. Cold, as in, I really do have to pull my hood up over my head (nevermind that it makes a mess of my hair), tuck in my shirt (to keep the wind from blowing up my tummy :::shiver:::), and pull the sleeves up over my hands so that the wind don't bite them off.
And WET. As we say here in Ketchikan, where they call rain 'liquid sunshine', and the average amount is about 12 feet a year, it's raining sideways. Or more accurately; imagine a 25 degree angle upward from the zero degree horizontal. The rain is following that line, blowing down from the upper right to the lower left. Almost sideways, anyway. Good enough for government work.
So... if there's two things mixed together that I absolutely can't stand, that is... two things mixed together that I HATE, other than peanut butter and mayonnaise, it's cold and wet, both occupying the same place at the same time. And the wind only makes it worse. Let me add that to the list... three things mixed together that I absolutely can't stand. Cold, wet, and WIND. Welcome, wind, to my hate list. Not that I didn't already hate you all by yourself, because you just love to blow my hair around so that it's a bona-fide workout before I go to bed just to get the tangles out, complete with sore shoulders and biceps in the morning. But now, wind, you get to have friends. Cold and wet, meet wind. Wind, meet cold and wet. Misery loves company, so they say.
Speaking of sayings... like my mom used to say, "It's colder than a witches tit in a brass bra outside." Please excuse the crude metaphor, simile, or idiom, whatever it is. But I always thought that was funny, so in order to make the horrible cold wet wind more bearable, I use that crude phrase to describe it because it makes me chuckle. Thanks mom. :)
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