April 8th, 2011
My conversion to Orthodoxy began when I was about 8 years old, although I wasn't aware of it at that time. Back then I lived in Omaha Texas, a small town of about 800 people. My dad was the choir director for the local Methodist church, and along with my mom, brother and sister, we attended church regularly and as a family. Most of the good memories I have from my childhood come from church and church related activities, such as family supper, mens breakfast, and vacation bible school. During the summer we would often have church out at the lake on Sunday mornings, and afterward everyone would go swimming. All of those are good memories, but I think what especially affected me about those old church days was the music. Throughout my life I've always been touched by the memory of the old hymns we used to sing, especially the Christmas songs. And although those years were brief, they made an impression on me which would continue throughout my life. You could say that a seed had been planted way back then, one which would eventually grow into my burgeoning faith.
I also had plenty of opportunities to make a few negative church related memories. One in particular involved a friend of mine who was prevented, by people I can only assume were community leaders, from playing on the little league baseball team because he was black. Upon hearing of this, my mom pulled me from the team and then, vocally and publicly, condemned their actions as barbaric and shameful. As a result, my mom was ostracized at church and by the church going community and became a social pariah. This incident, more than anything else, is why I came to associate Christians - Baptists, especially - with concepts such as hypocrisy, entitlement, self righteousness, and intolerance. I was just a little kid when this happened, so It took a few years for the memory of the incident to begin to affect me, but when it did, it really took hold and began to dramatically influence my attitude towards Christianity.
Another incident which served to distance me from the church involved the evening service of a circuit rider who was visiting our church. He was preaching about heaven and hell, and how we all needed to be saved or we would suffer eternal damnation - scary stuff for a 9 year old. He preached for a long time that night. With every passing moment his voice got louder, his gesticulations more excited, and his tone more desperate, until his tirade finally culminated with an invitation to the poor, wretched sinners of the congregation (of whom I was one) to come down to the altar RIGHT THEN and GET SAVED! Terrified and with little idea of what I was doing, I scurried down to the altar and was promptly saved by the circuit rider. I didn't feel saved though... what I felt was terrified and threatened. Afterward I was instructed to record the time and date that I was saved in my Good News Bible. Because of that incident, at 7:25 pm on the night of November 16th, 1980, a bad seed found a spot next to the good one and began to take root. Starting right then, it became a ceaseless contest between the two seeds... which would be the first to dig it's roots deep into my heart?
My mom and dad divorced soon after that, when I was 10. For a while I continued to go to church with my grandma, but eventually my mom moved us kids to a neighboring town where I started high school. I went to church less and less throughout my teenage years, until I finally attended my last service as a practicing Methodist. It was the Easter service at the Methodist church in Pittsburg, in 1989, and I had just turned 18. By the time I was 21, I was calling myself an atheist. I began to nurture a grudge towards Christianity, and in my mind I belittled them. My sister and I had several knock-down drag-outs on the subject, and I was always ruthless with my diatribe, especially against the Baptist church, of which she was a part.
As the years went on, I began to feel almost constant fear and despair in my life. My 20's and 30's were characterized by what started out as a suspicion, but which eventually became a deep, abiding belief that something was fundamentally wrong with me. I was depressed a lot. I felt as though I had been born without some essential life survival tool that everybody else had been issued. During this time the anger I felt towards Christianity eroded away into a kind of apathetic version of contempt, and I began to become more of an agnostic than an absolute atheist. The faith I'd enjoyed back when I was a little kid was a remote memory, but I had never really stopped praying. I didn't pray often, and when I did, it was always late at night while lying in bed, perfectly still, completely alone and in the dark. It was only during these most private, reserved, vulnerable moments that I could allow myself to entertain the possibility of God. When I prayed however, it was always out of desperation and fear, and it was always the same prayer... a plea for God, if He really existed, to please help me. I didn't know what kind of help I needed... just help. I would end it with a request that God, if he really existed, to please take care of my family. At some point I found myself offering these prayers up into the void about once a week to a God who I was beginning to desperately wish existed, but couldn't make myself believe in.
Fast forward to the fall of 2009, when I met someone through work who was an Orthodox Christian. We quickly became friends and began going to church together. I was instantly intrigued by Orthodox services, which were different from any church services I'd ever encountered. The atmosphere was completely different, for one. Things were much more reserved, solemn and orderly than a protestant church, and there was a feeling of it all being part of ancient tradition. The low candlelight, the ubiquitous incense, and the constant singing also set the services apart from anything I'd ever experienced. Even when someone was reading from the Gospels, it was done in a kind of singing chant. Very rarely were words ever spoken in a regular conversational tone... the only two instances I know of are when the priest gives the homily, and near the end of Saturday night vigil when the priest describes the life of the saint for that particular day or occasion. Then there was all of the bowing, venerating, and crossing of selves in which everyone participated, which all added up to an immediate and intense interest in the Orthodox church and a growing sense of hope. I feel I must particularly emphasize the music though... the music is what really pulled me in. Without the music, even with everything else, I don't think I would have developed a lasting interest in Orthodoxy. Thank you, God, for the music. Thank you for implanting in my heart, early on, a deep and abiding sentiment and love for church music. For basically planning my conversion to Orthodoxy 30 years in advance.
I attended classes and services regularly for about a year, starting in early January of '09, and in December I finally decided that I wanted to become a catechumen. During the course of that year I discovered that it was possible for me to believe in God, and that my prayers don't just fly away into the void, never to be heard or answered. For the first time in a long time, I experienced hope for my life. I learned about the Orthodox church, and found its history fascinating. I especially developed an interest in icons and actually painted a couple of them. It was the first time I'd set paint to anything since 1996, and I began to grow interested in the possibility of actually becoming an iconographer. I was making friends at church, participating in two choirs, and the future seemed like a bright, shining prospect to me. I think I was actually in danger of becoming happy... until a very sad thing occurred in April of 2010, right after Pascha and about a month before my upcoming baptism. Everything I'd learned, all of the faith and hope, the happiness... it was all suddenly as fragile as a cast off piece of rice paper blowing through a dry bramble filled with thorns. Literally overnight I found myself faced with the possibility that everything I'd worked towards for the past year might come crashing down, on and around me. Then I realized something else; that the sadness was a test of my faith. I was about to learn if I was really serious about this. The time had come to either put up or shut up. In the words of... somebody... well, whoever said it. In the words of him or her, "Shit had just gotten real."
Life went on and the date of my baptism approached. Instead of anticipating it with excitement and hope, however, I began to dread it. I'd always pictured the event as a joyful ceremony, but the sadness which was enveloping me promised that it would be nothing like the way I had imagined. When the day finally arrived, I was a ball of frazzled nerves. I panicked about my baptismal cross not being just perfect, and I was almost late getting to the church. My memory of the process is a jumbled mess, and the entire affair pretty much seemed like one long blur to me. However, I do remember, very clearly, getting dunked and greased (Orthodox slang which I find humorous) with ceremony, and immediately after that I began my life as an Orthodox Christian.
It definitely didn't happen the way I imagined it would. I had always pictured it as being a lot more joyful. During the whole thing I was in a fair daze because of the weeks leading up to my baptism, which had seemed more like a bad dream than actual reality. Something definitely seemed 'not quite' about the experience, as if an essential ingredient had been missing. It was funny... on that day, I knew that I'd finally found where I belonged. However, since the beginning of my new journey, I'd assumed that things would always be a certain way, and that happiness would be easy... and that I'd have company. Maybe I will eventually, I don't know the future. Whatever the case, God's will be done.
Right now the seed is rooted firmly and still growing. The good one, that is.
Friday, April 8, 2011
What I got out of today
I just realized I've been praying Psalm 103 all day. I feel as if I learned something I thought I already knew... that there is a mystery to prayer, as if there should be a kind of involuntary method to it. Like the Jesus Prayer, in that if we practice it enough, ideally we will eventually enter into ceaseless prayer which requires no conscious thought, like the pilgrim. This sounds simple, but as a concept it is difficult to put into practice, as it requires more than just logical intent. Like today... it seems merely circumstantial that I had Psalm 103 in my head all day, but it filled me with joy constantly and never stopped. It wasn't voluntary... it was just there. The practice of the Jesus Prayer is meant to fill us with a similar experience, I think. It's that mystery, the presence of prayer with substance, and not just the repetition of words. I prayed involuntarily all day. Not that it was against my will... I just wasn't conscious of a voluntary action of prayer. But I was praying nonetheless, and I felt joy countless times and didn't even realize the real reason why. It's hard to explain, because I can feel joy by hearing a secular song in my head all day... and in a way, I think that's also similar to prayer. It's a hard concept to grasp, and I don't think it's completely possible... because while we're here on this earth, life is a constant struggle and mystery. There is no point where we can say, "I did it! I made it! I got here, and I'm successful, and I'm perfect! I'm one with God, and my struggle is over!" No, it isn't like that. The struggle is continuous, and even dangerous in that we can become complacent when and if we achieve a measure of success in our striving for asceticism. We can succeed, and fail, and succeed again, and fail again, and succeed again. And fail again. It doesn't end, I think, until we are standing before God with our souls laid bare.
Anywho.
Anywho.
Thursday, April 7, 2011
Church music
I've always had a special place in my heart for church music. It goes back to when I was a little kid in Omaha, when my dad was the choir director of the Methodist church. Back then I went to church regularly, and the Christmas hymns especially worked their way into my heart.
When I was introduced to the Orthodox church, the two main things which drew me in almost instantly were the solemn candlelit and incense permeated atmosphere, and the music. The Litany of the Catechumens was the first song to really make me sit up and take notice. I was so taken with it when I discovered its beauty that I would spend long stretches of time just strumming the main chords for it on my guitar. Next was The Magnificat, a hymn honoring the Theotokos, followed by the third Cherubic Hymn (that's how we refer to it in the choir, as there are several versions we do which vary from Sunday to Sunday). There are others, such as a version of Let My Prayer Arise which we sing during what I refer to as 'prostration week', a particular version of The Wise Thief which which we sing in the male choir, and the one I call 'The Pascha Song'; somber and triumphant. Those are the main ones, and there are many others. Of course, all of these songs have composers, but I can't remember all of those weird, tongue twisting Russian names. Except for Kedrov - he composed the Litany of the Catechumens - and Bortniansky, who I believe composed the version of Let My Prayer Arise which I like so much, along with many others. I may be wrong about that though. Anywho...
A couple of months ago I had just started going back to church after a long bleak hiatus, and I was attending my first vigil in several weeks. We started out with Psalm 103 which, according to Dax, we've always sung at the beginning of vigil. I can't believe I've never noticed it before, having apparently sung it at least several times. Well, I noticed it that night, and I just couldn't believe the beauty of it, imperfectly though we sung it. I've kind of been infatuated with it ever since, and I've looked online for a good version but have only come across a few similar versions with surprise changes to my favorite chords. Unacceptable. So, last Saturday during vigil I snapped pictures of each page of the sheet music with my camera phone with the intention of learning each part, laying down separate vocal tracks, and mixing them together so I could hear what it sounded like from beginning to end at my leisure.
Well, last night I finally got around to trying it. I downloaded a free piece of recording software called Audacity, along with a basic metronome program. After spending about 10 minutes learning the program, I loaded up the sheet music in a picture viewer and got to singing. It took about 3 dozen takes, but I finally had the soprano, alto, tenor and bass parts of the fist two pages recorded, layered, and rendered as one audio file. I've never really been a great singer - I can carry a tune, and that's about it - so I wasn't exactly satisfied with the quality of my voice. Also, the tenor is hard to hear in some places, and at times the bass tends to overpower the other parts. All in all, however, it was ok. Oh, and by the way, the music for this one was also composed by Kedrov.
Today Dax posted a link to the Vivian Klochkov Orthodox Ensemble singing Psalm 103. It was so perfect that it brought me to tears. Hearing it after hearing mine was comparable to being shown the original Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh after seeing a crude crayon copy of it done by a fairly talented 8 year old.
When I was introduced to the Orthodox church, the two main things which drew me in almost instantly were the solemn candlelit and incense permeated atmosphere, and the music. The Litany of the Catechumens was the first song to really make me sit up and take notice. I was so taken with it when I discovered its beauty that I would spend long stretches of time just strumming the main chords for it on my guitar. Next was The Magnificat, a hymn honoring the Theotokos, followed by the third Cherubic Hymn (that's how we refer to it in the choir, as there are several versions we do which vary from Sunday to Sunday). There are others, such as a version of Let My Prayer Arise which we sing during what I refer to as 'prostration week', a particular version of The Wise Thief which which we sing in the male choir, and the one I call 'The Pascha Song'; somber and triumphant. Those are the main ones, and there are many others. Of course, all of these songs have composers, but I can't remember all of those weird, tongue twisting Russian names. Except for Kedrov - he composed the Litany of the Catechumens - and Bortniansky, who I believe composed the version of Let My Prayer Arise which I like so much, along with many others. I may be wrong about that though. Anywho...
A couple of months ago I had just started going back to church after a long bleak hiatus, and I was attending my first vigil in several weeks. We started out with Psalm 103 which, according to Dax, we've always sung at the beginning of vigil. I can't believe I've never noticed it before, having apparently sung it at least several times. Well, I noticed it that night, and I just couldn't believe the beauty of it, imperfectly though we sung it. I've kind of been infatuated with it ever since, and I've looked online for a good version but have only come across a few similar versions with surprise changes to my favorite chords. Unacceptable. So, last Saturday during vigil I snapped pictures of each page of the sheet music with my camera phone with the intention of learning each part, laying down separate vocal tracks, and mixing them together so I could hear what it sounded like from beginning to end at my leisure.
Well, last night I finally got around to trying it. I downloaded a free piece of recording software called Audacity, along with a basic metronome program. After spending about 10 minutes learning the program, I loaded up the sheet music in a picture viewer and got to singing. It took about 3 dozen takes, but I finally had the soprano, alto, tenor and bass parts of the fist two pages recorded, layered, and rendered as one audio file. I've never really been a great singer - I can carry a tune, and that's about it - so I wasn't exactly satisfied with the quality of my voice. Also, the tenor is hard to hear in some places, and at times the bass tends to overpower the other parts. All in all, however, it was ok. Oh, and by the way, the music for this one was also composed by Kedrov.
Today Dax posted a link to the Vivian Klochkov Orthodox Ensemble singing Psalm 103. It was so perfect that it brought me to tears. Hearing it after hearing mine was comparable to being shown the original Starry Night by Vincent Van Gogh after seeing a crude crayon copy of it done by a fairly talented 8 year old.
Tuesday, April 5, 2011
Happy - part 3
Right now, at this moment, I'm happy. Another great day. I don't know why these days happen but I'm grateful.
There were some bumps however. A customer accused Brittney of stealing two dollars from her. Well, I just seen red again. I have to learn how to control my anger when people insult my friends. I went off on her like I did the bus driver... well, not as bad as that. But I did confront her and make it clear to her that it was far more likely that she had misplaced the two dollars (Brittney had seen her put it in her purse, and it was on the security cam) than it was for a 7-Eleven clerk to steal it from her. I felt absolutely terrible afterward. When she comes in again I'm going to apologize to her.
Brittney brought her computer to work and showed me her old MySpace page, the one for the band she used to be in. It was called Phoenix Soul, a play on her name. She is a really great singer. Professionally good. She wrote the song. She's always telling me about her church experiences as the keyboard player. I tell her about mine as a singer in the two St. Maximus choirs. It's fun, relating our tales to each other.
Ellie came into the store again today. I was looking down, as usual, and I didn't notice her at first. Then I heard 'Hi, Elias.' I looked up and it was her. I said hi, scanned a few items, and then looked at her and said, 'Ellie, right?' Confirmed. She remarked about how long it had been since she'd been in the store, and we talked for a bit about what we'd both been doing since then. For her, school. For me, work and church. We chatted a bit more, and she left.
Ellie. It's a nice name, and I like being called Elias.
There were some bumps however. A customer accused Brittney of stealing two dollars from her. Well, I just seen red again. I have to learn how to control my anger when people insult my friends. I went off on her like I did the bus driver... well, not as bad as that. But I did confront her and make it clear to her that it was far more likely that she had misplaced the two dollars (Brittney had seen her put it in her purse, and it was on the security cam) than it was for a 7-Eleven clerk to steal it from her. I felt absolutely terrible afterward. When she comes in again I'm going to apologize to her.
Brittney brought her computer to work and showed me her old MySpace page, the one for the band she used to be in. It was called Phoenix Soul, a play on her name. She is a really great singer. Professionally good. She wrote the song. She's always telling me about her church experiences as the keyboard player. I tell her about mine as a singer in the two St. Maximus choirs. It's fun, relating our tales to each other.
Ellie came into the store again today. I was looking down, as usual, and I didn't notice her at first. Then I heard 'Hi, Elias.' I looked up and it was her. I said hi, scanned a few items, and then looked at her and said, 'Ellie, right?' Confirmed. She remarked about how long it had been since she'd been in the store, and we talked for a bit about what we'd both been doing since then. For her, school. For me, work and church. We chatted a bit more, and she left.
Ellie. It's a nice name, and I like being called Elias.
Sunday, April 3, 2011
Unexpected
Wow. I've gone from 156 lbs to 144 lbs since the beginning of Lent. Might I eventually get my flat tummy back? 130 lbs would be it. Some extra muscle would be nice though...
They say 40 is the new 20. What if I just busted my ass and got into shape and started my life over? I mean, my life is cauterized right now anyway. Me, weighing 150 lbs with no fat? That would be... hmmm. I dunno if that's a good idea. If I actually started to look good naked in the mirror, my ego might inflate all over again.
But I'd be healthier and I'd have more endurance. I could start running and working out again, like I was doing the entire summer of '08. Only this time, I'd stick with it for the entire year, or two years.
Anywho... wow. I haven't weighed under 145 since 2004.
They say 40 is the new 20. What if I just busted my ass and got into shape and started my life over? I mean, my life is cauterized right now anyway. Me, weighing 150 lbs with no fat? That would be... hmmm. I dunno if that's a good idea. If I actually started to look good naked in the mirror, my ego might inflate all over again.
But I'd be healthier and I'd have more endurance. I could start running and working out again, like I was doing the entire summer of '08. Only this time, I'd stick with it for the entire year, or two years.
Anywho... wow. I haven't weighed under 145 since 2004.
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Proof of God.
About 15 months ago I watched a program about quantum physics and how observation collapses quantum wave functions, creating reality. I came to the realization that God was the ultimate observer, therefore all of existence is a result of His observation collapsing the wave functions of reality, in which we exist as conscious living people. I have since posited further that our free will has the effect of collapsing the local wave functions around us, creating our own local reality for each of us. I even blogged about it here way back when.
Last night I watched a program about an Indian scientist, Amit Goswami, who has been expounding upon this realization for quite some time. This is the way he started to think about it:
Reality is comprised of quantum wave functions which haven't been collapsed into a definite state. Reality is, essentially, a realm of possibilities which only requires consciousness to give it form. So, If observation creates reality, then what about our brains? They are part of reality and should have to be observed first in order for them to exist. But we are observing, and the reality we see is the result of observation which is done by our brains. So how do we exist to begin with? If consciousness creates form, then what gives form to us, who are conscious beings? What collapses the wave functions that give rise to our existence, as individual observers?
Amit Goswami made the distinction between material existence - atoms and molecules, matter and everything it forms - the planets, the sun, the cosmos, us - and consciousness as being two different forms of reality. The physical world is 'gross' reality, and consciousness is 'subtle' reality. Scientists have assumed for years that consciousness, or subtle reality, springs from matter or gross reality, because it's logical to deduce, using the traditional scientific method, that our brains create our consciousness. However, according to his research and ideas, it's the other way around. Consciousness gives rise to matter, and consciousness is everywhere. It's the beginning of everything and it links us all, and we are all a part of it.
This may sound like just an interesting theory if not for the fact that there is data that supports it. An experiment was performed where two people, for about half an hour, concentrated on merging their thoughts. They were then taken to separate rooms which were sealed from all electromagnetic interference, and electrodes were placed on their heads that mapped their brain waves. One person was shown a pattern of strobing lights, and the other was not. The brain waves of the person who was shown the strobing light produced a concise pattern which illustrated a definite reaction to the strobing lights. The other person, who was not shown the strobing lights, produced brain waves that were remarkably similar. And when I say remarkably similar... when overlayed, they matched almost perfectly. There is no other explanation for this, except that there was some kind of communication going on between the two people which did not involve any kind of signal transfer at all. It showed proof of a pervading consciousness which links us all. I believe that this is just a fraction of a piece of information which proves the existence of God, and so did Amit Goswami.
This all goes back to the nature of quantum mechanics, and I believe that the reason for the results of this experiment lies in the phenomenon of quantum entanglement. I'd try to explain about that now, but it's kind of hard to go into without first describing a lot of the basics. Look up quantum entanglement and the theory of the holographic universe, if you're interested in knowing more about it. I realize that all of this can sound just flat out absurd on the surface, but it is, in effect, how reality works (although the holographic universe is still just an intriguing theory). There would be no reality without consciousness, and consciousness is God, and we are all a part of it. "God is everywhere" isn't just a bunch of empty words. I believe that this is all proof of God, wrapped up in quantum mechanics.
This is a great comfort to me, being one who has always craved meaning and an explanation for phenomena. I don't expect to ever understand why this is the way things are, and I don't believe that it's possible to ever understand everything, for God is a mystery which is beyond us, His creation. However, we humans are curious beings and are capable of learning and understanding to a great extent (from our perspective, anyway), so I don't have a problem at all believing this to be unmistakable, undeniable proof of God. I know that's a leap of faith, but faith is very hard for me to come by for me, and it's a miracle that God has revealed this much, to make it a little bit easier. I pray for this... Lord, I believe, help me with my unbelief. I believe that this is God answering my prayer.
I think of communion now and am just astounded by the realization of it's reality. It's THERE-ness. The real happening of it.
Here's a link to the original blog post about my epiphany regarding quantum mechanics:
A lengthy read
Amit Goswami's web page:
Scientific Proof of the Existence of God
Last night I watched a program about an Indian scientist, Amit Goswami, who has been expounding upon this realization for quite some time. This is the way he started to think about it:
Reality is comprised of quantum wave functions which haven't been collapsed into a definite state. Reality is, essentially, a realm of possibilities which only requires consciousness to give it form. So, If observation creates reality, then what about our brains? They are part of reality and should have to be observed first in order for them to exist. But we are observing, and the reality we see is the result of observation which is done by our brains. So how do we exist to begin with? If consciousness creates form, then what gives form to us, who are conscious beings? What collapses the wave functions that give rise to our existence, as individual observers?
Amit Goswami made the distinction between material existence - atoms and molecules, matter and everything it forms - the planets, the sun, the cosmos, us - and consciousness as being two different forms of reality. The physical world is 'gross' reality, and consciousness is 'subtle' reality. Scientists have assumed for years that consciousness, or subtle reality, springs from matter or gross reality, because it's logical to deduce, using the traditional scientific method, that our brains create our consciousness. However, according to his research and ideas, it's the other way around. Consciousness gives rise to matter, and consciousness is everywhere. It's the beginning of everything and it links us all, and we are all a part of it.
This may sound like just an interesting theory if not for the fact that there is data that supports it. An experiment was performed where two people, for about half an hour, concentrated on merging their thoughts. They were then taken to separate rooms which were sealed from all electromagnetic interference, and electrodes were placed on their heads that mapped their brain waves. One person was shown a pattern of strobing lights, and the other was not. The brain waves of the person who was shown the strobing light produced a concise pattern which illustrated a definite reaction to the strobing lights. The other person, who was not shown the strobing lights, produced brain waves that were remarkably similar. And when I say remarkably similar... when overlayed, they matched almost perfectly. There is no other explanation for this, except that there was some kind of communication going on between the two people which did not involve any kind of signal transfer at all. It showed proof of a pervading consciousness which links us all. I believe that this is just a fraction of a piece of information which proves the existence of God, and so did Amit Goswami.
This all goes back to the nature of quantum mechanics, and I believe that the reason for the results of this experiment lies in the phenomenon of quantum entanglement. I'd try to explain about that now, but it's kind of hard to go into without first describing a lot of the basics. Look up quantum entanglement and the theory of the holographic universe, if you're interested in knowing more about it. I realize that all of this can sound just flat out absurd on the surface, but it is, in effect, how reality works (although the holographic universe is still just an intriguing theory). There would be no reality without consciousness, and consciousness is God, and we are all a part of it. "God is everywhere" isn't just a bunch of empty words. I believe that this is all proof of God, wrapped up in quantum mechanics.
This is a great comfort to me, being one who has always craved meaning and an explanation for phenomena. I don't expect to ever understand why this is the way things are, and I don't believe that it's possible to ever understand everything, for God is a mystery which is beyond us, His creation. However, we humans are curious beings and are capable of learning and understanding to a great extent (from our perspective, anyway), so I don't have a problem at all believing this to be unmistakable, undeniable proof of God. I know that's a leap of faith, but faith is very hard for me to come by for me, and it's a miracle that God has revealed this much, to make it a little bit easier. I pray for this... Lord, I believe, help me with my unbelief. I believe that this is God answering my prayer.
I think of communion now and am just astounded by the realization of it's reality. It's THERE-ness. The real happening of it.
Here's a link to the original blog post about my epiphany regarding quantum mechanics:
A lengthy read
Amit Goswami's web page:
Scientific Proof of the Existence of God
Thursday, March 31, 2011
The three parts of me
Yesterday started out as a really rotten day. It's funny how I seem to have no control over the way my days start. Some days I'm in a really great mood, and some days it just sucks to be alive. Yesterday was one of those suck days.
So yesterday I was walking to work, in just the rottenest mood. Imagine Yosemite Sam in that cartoon where he kept falling through the hole or trap door or whatever it was, over and over again. Each time, as he fell, he would yell "FRIKIN FRAKIN RIKIN RAKIN SHIKIN SHAKIN RIKIN FRAKIN..." That's what I was mumbling on the way to work, in between my attempts to pray. Kind of basically more or less definitely ruined my prayer.
Anywho... I got to work and Brittney had a cake for me. Wow! I love Brittney. I don't know what I'd do without her to look forward to three times a week. I felt instantly better and thanked God for His blessings. She's going to be leaving soon, and that will be a very sad day for me.
The rest of the day was a series of ups and downs, like a min-manic-depressive state. It started to plummet again when I was trying to eat a piece of cake. We were really busy, and I had the fork almost to my mouth, and whaddya wouldn'tya knowit, the cake fell off of the fork and onto the floor. FRIKINFRAKINRIKINRAKIN... well, my mood went south instantly. I started to get aggravated at customers who didn't deserve it. This lasted until the rush ended, and then I got hold of myself.
Me: I think I've realized something.
Brittney: What? (she always smiles when I bring something up, God bless her)
Me: I'm pretty sure that I'm 1/3 retarded, 1/3 asshole, and 1/3 good person (I came to the retard conclusion after looking for my phone for 5 minutes and realizing it was in my hand)
Brittney: Aw, come on, don't treat yourself so bad.
Me: Hmmm... well, I did give myself 1/3 good person and 1/3 retard. I'm not even mostly bad if I look at it that way.
So yesterday I was walking to work, in just the rottenest mood. Imagine Yosemite Sam in that cartoon where he kept falling through the hole or trap door or whatever it was, over and over again. Each time, as he fell, he would yell "FRIKIN FRAKIN RIKIN RAKIN SHIKIN SHAKIN RIKIN FRAKIN..." That's what I was mumbling on the way to work, in between my attempts to pray. Kind of basically more or less definitely ruined my prayer.
Anywho... I got to work and Brittney had a cake for me. Wow! I love Brittney. I don't know what I'd do without her to look forward to three times a week. I felt instantly better and thanked God for His blessings. She's going to be leaving soon, and that will be a very sad day for me.
The rest of the day was a series of ups and downs, like a min-manic-depressive state. It started to plummet again when I was trying to eat a piece of cake. We were really busy, and I had the fork almost to my mouth, and whaddya wouldn'tya knowit, the cake fell off of the fork and onto the floor. FRIKINFRAKINRIKINRAKIN... well, my mood went south instantly. I started to get aggravated at customers who didn't deserve it. This lasted until the rush ended, and then I got hold of myself.
Me: I think I've realized something.
Brittney: What? (she always smiles when I bring something up, God bless her)
Me: I'm pretty sure that I'm 1/3 retarded, 1/3 asshole, and 1/3 good person (I came to the retard conclusion after looking for my phone for 5 minutes and realizing it was in my hand)
Brittney: Aw, come on, don't treat yourself so bad.
Me: Hmmm... well, I did give myself 1/3 good person and 1/3 retard. I'm not even mostly bad if I look at it that way.
My day
Wake up.
Go back to sleep.
Dream.
Wake up again.
Try to go back to sleep.
Lie there for a while in the dark.
Wonder what time it is.
Lie there some more.
Panic a little about life.
Go back to sleep again.
Dream again.
Wake up again.
It's light outside.
Get up to use the bathroom.
Find the phone, see what time it is.
Ok, I'm up.
Wander around and shiver.
Turn on the heat in the kitchen.
Sit in the living room for a while and think.
Open the front door and check the temperature.
Get online for a while.
Drink the rest of the can of beer from last night.
Try to pray.
Watch a movie.
Get ready for work.
Dread life.
Walk to work.
Pray on the way.
Get to work.
Say hi to everyone and try to pretend to be ok.
Check customers.
A cake!
Talk to Brittney and feel a lot better.
Order beer.
Check customers.
Talk to Brittney some more.
Experience 30 different moods all day.
End up on a good note.
Walk home.
Drink a beer.
Watch a movie.
Get tired.
Get online for a while.
Smoke one more cigarette.
Think about praying in front of the icon corner.
Get undressed, turn out the lights, and get in bed.
Pray.
Go to sleep.
Start all over.
Go back to sleep.
Dream.
Wake up again.
Try to go back to sleep.
Lie there for a while in the dark.
Wonder what time it is.
Lie there some more.
Panic a little about life.
Go back to sleep again.
Dream again.
Wake up again.
It's light outside.
Get up to use the bathroom.
Find the phone, see what time it is.
Ok, I'm up.
Wander around and shiver.
Turn on the heat in the kitchen.
Sit in the living room for a while and think.
Open the front door and check the temperature.
Get online for a while.
Drink the rest of the can of beer from last night.
Try to pray.
Watch a movie.
Get ready for work.
Dread life.
Walk to work.
Pray on the way.
Get to work.
Say hi to everyone and try to pretend to be ok.
Check customers.
A cake!
Talk to Brittney and feel a lot better.
Order beer.
Check customers.
Talk to Brittney some more.
Experience 30 different moods all day.
End up on a good note.
Walk home.
Drink a beer.
Watch a movie.
Get tired.
Get online for a while.
Smoke one more cigarette.
Think about praying in front of the icon corner.
Get undressed, turn out the lights, and get in bed.
Pray.
Go to sleep.
Start all over.
Wednesday, March 30, 2011
Pride
I believe that all human problems have their root in pride. Everything else stems from that. I think impatience is my biggest problem after pride. I used to think it was anger, but I realize that anger is just a side effect of impatience. And I didn't even know impatience was a problem until I let God into my life. Same with pride. Pride, impatience, and anger. And after that, self pity. I think I'm doing pretty well with anger. It's a lot more obvious than impatience. Impatience can be subtle. It requires reminding yourself constantly that everything is going according to God's plan. And knowing that even then, when things get realized, that it might not be what you wanted for yourself, but what God wanted for you. And that goes back to pride. What I want might not be what God wants, but God wants what's best for me. I can accept that reality and benefit from it, or I can reject it. Rejecting it is the result of pride, and will only bring pain. So it's simple, really. If pride can be vanquished, than it's possible to be happy. And not until then.
Tuesday, March 29, 2011
Not sorry
I've often come under attack for the way I look, my long hair and whatnot. I've heard things like 'get a haircut you fag, fuckin hippy, fuckin druggie, go back to Woodstock you freak, look at the pretty lady...' things of that nature. I've even had things thrown at me from moving cars. I've had numerous soda cups thrown at me, and I've even been hit once.
Today when I was out walking before work, this happened again. A truck was turning a corner onto the side street which I was crossing, and the side passenger threw a sonic cup filled with ice at me. It missed. Instantly and reflexively, my middle finger shot up. The truck kept going, but the passenger shot me the bird out of the window. I gave him the double bird. He leaned out of the window and gave me two of them. I motioned for them to come on back, and I even yelled it at them. The truck kept going. I don't know what I would have done if they'd actually turned around... probably I'd have talked a lot of shit, and if it came to blows, I'd give as good as I could before I got pummeled.
I wasn't sorry this time about getting angry though, and I don't think I will be.
Today when I was out walking before work, this happened again. A truck was turning a corner onto the side street which I was crossing, and the side passenger threw a sonic cup filled with ice at me. It missed. Instantly and reflexively, my middle finger shot up. The truck kept going, but the passenger shot me the bird out of the window. I gave him the double bird. He leaned out of the window and gave me two of them. I motioned for them to come on back, and I even yelled it at them. The truck kept going. I don't know what I would have done if they'd actually turned around... probably I'd have talked a lot of shit, and if it came to blows, I'd give as good as I could before I got pummeled.
I wasn't sorry this time about getting angry though, and I don't think I will be.
Monday, March 28, 2011
Sometimes
Sometimes, not often, the beauty of the world takes me by surprise and I have to pause and gather myself or I'll be choking back sobs I didn't even know were imminent. Even the color gray can take my breath away.
Sunday, March 27, 2011
Things that make me laugh, part 2
...Kentucky Fried Kontakion?
Four score and 7 gazillion years ago, the Archangel Gabriel issued forth the Annunciation Proclamation... and to make a long story short, all the slaves in hell were freed.
Oh yeah, Matrix Robes. And Dax is a black belt. Somehow the idea of Dax kicking ass in his Matrix Robes is hilarious. No, not even somehow. Definitely. TAKE THAT! ...Glory to the Father... AND THAT! ...and the Son... AND THAT! ...and the Holy Spirit... AND THAT! ...both now and ever... AND THAT! ...and unto ages and ages... AND THAT! ...AMEN!... bow
I want some Matrix Robes!
Four score and 7 gazillion years ago, the Archangel Gabriel issued forth the Annunciation Proclamation... and to make a long story short, all the slaves in hell were freed.
Oh yeah, Matrix Robes. And Dax is a black belt. Somehow the idea of Dax kicking ass in his Matrix Robes is hilarious. No, not even somehow. Definitely. TAKE THAT! ...Glory to the Father... AND THAT! ...and the Son... AND THAT! ...and the Holy Spirit... AND THAT! ...both now and ever... AND THAT! ...and unto ages and ages... AND THAT! ...AMEN!... bow
I want some Matrix Robes!
Friday, March 25, 2011
An interesting encounter
I'm really bad with faces. I'll have people wave to me and yell at me to get my attention when I'm out walking, saying "What's up man!" and "Hey bro, how's it going?" Things like that, and I respond with the usual, "Hey, not much," and "Pretty good." I usually don't recognize them though. The same thing happens in the store where I work. I get so many customers every day they're like a blur of faces. Literally. It usually takes several interactions with someone for me to actually have any chance of remembering them.
With women it's usually a different story. I'm far more likely to remember the face of an attractive woman than I am the face of Joe Schmoe. Yesterday was the exception, however. It was busy, and this cute young woman was at my register. I didn't recognize her, but she sure recognized me.
Cutie pie: You know, what with all the times I've been in here, and the fact that I see you so often - practically every day - I feel like we should be on a first name basis. I'm Ellie!
Me: (What? Who is this? I don't remember ever seeing her before. She's introducing herself to me? Now, here's something that doesn't happen every day! ahem...) Oh, hi. My name is Elias.
Ellie: Elias... that's nice. Sounds kind of like Ellie.
Me: Hey yeah, it does. Especially if you just call me Eli, which a lot of people do.
Ellie: Cool, that's really easy to remember! Eli, Ellie... They're practically the same name! (she reached over the register and stuck out her hand)
Me: (I took her hand and shook it) Ok, we're on a first name basis now... Ellie, right? I'm terrible with names, but I have a feeling I'll remember yours.
Ellie: Me too. (she released my hand) Ok, well... bye Elias!
She left the store and I just stood there for a few seconds, trying to remember the last time something like that happened. Girls usually don't flirt with me.. and I don't think it has anything to do with my looks. I think it's my demeanor. Most people usually think I'm too reserved to engage, or maybe they are just a little bit afraid of me. I think I might come off as more than I really am sometimes, leading to this weird intimidation factor. That's what I've been told by some people, anyway.
Anywho... I don't know how I ever failed to notice this particular cutey pie, what with her being in the store as often as she said she was, but it felt good being recognized by a nice looking girl who showed interest in me. It reminded me that I'm not necessarily worthless to the opposite sex, and that there is hope that I might actually realize my dream some day of having a family. I pray every day to God to make me worthy of being a husband and father, and that if and when I'm ever actually worthy of such joy, that He will intercede in my life - that he will bring me a wife - and allow me to start a family in the Orthodox Church.
With women it's usually a different story. I'm far more likely to remember the face of an attractive woman than I am the face of Joe Schmoe. Yesterday was the exception, however. It was busy, and this cute young woman was at my register. I didn't recognize her, but she sure recognized me.
Cutie pie: You know, what with all the times I've been in here, and the fact that I see you so often - practically every day - I feel like we should be on a first name basis. I'm Ellie!
Me: (What? Who is this? I don't remember ever seeing her before. She's introducing herself to me? Now, here's something that doesn't happen every day! ahem...) Oh, hi. My name is Elias.
Ellie: Elias... that's nice. Sounds kind of like Ellie.
Me: Hey yeah, it does. Especially if you just call me Eli, which a lot of people do.
Ellie: Cool, that's really easy to remember! Eli, Ellie... They're practically the same name! (she reached over the register and stuck out her hand)
Me: (I took her hand and shook it) Ok, we're on a first name basis now... Ellie, right? I'm terrible with names, but I have a feeling I'll remember yours.
Ellie: Me too. (she released my hand) Ok, well... bye Elias!
She left the store and I just stood there for a few seconds, trying to remember the last time something like that happened. Girls usually don't flirt with me.. and I don't think it has anything to do with my looks. I think it's my demeanor. Most people usually think I'm too reserved to engage, or maybe they are just a little bit afraid of me. I think I might come off as more than I really am sometimes, leading to this weird intimidation factor. That's what I've been told by some people, anyway.
Anywho... I don't know how I ever failed to notice this particular cutey pie, what with her being in the store as often as she said she was, but it felt good being recognized by a nice looking girl who showed interest in me. It reminded me that I'm not necessarily worthless to the opposite sex, and that there is hope that I might actually realize my dream some day of having a family. I pray every day to God to make me worthy of being a husband and father, and that if and when I'm ever actually worthy of such joy, that He will intercede in my life - that he will bring me a wife - and allow me to start a family in the Orthodox Church.
The wafer fab and my window room
Going way back, from February '95 up until September of '99, I worked in the semi-conductor industry as a process technician. I held such fancy titles as Plasma Etch Process Technician, Core Materials Handler, and Alta Laser Lithographer. I worked for various companies such as Texas Instruments, Solectron, Applied Materials, and DuPont Photomasks. Each of these companies dealt with a widely varying section of the actual manufacturing of a microchip, but one thing they all had in common was the clean room. Before entering into the 'fab', which is what we called the actual inside of the clean room where all of the fun stuff was done, we had to don what a lot of people called a 'bunny suit'. I always thought that was gay, so I just referred to it as a smock. It consisted of a full body suit, shoe covers, boots designed to go over the shoes, a hair net, a full head and face covering, two pairs of latex gloves, and safety goggles. Once ensconced safely within, you could only recognize people by their eyes and body shape. The reason for this was to keep contamination within the fab to a minimum... stuff like dust, hair, skin particles, spit, snot... that kind of thing.
Then we had to go through an 'air shower'. It was actually an airlock, but instead of sucking all of the air out and creating a vacuum, it blew a lot of air in and increased the air pressure to that of the inside of the fab (it also blew all of the stray particles off of you and into the HEPA filters). The inside of the fab was always kept at a higher pressure than the outside so that if there were ever a leak, air would blow OUT of the fab and not IN. After the air shower, we went to the hand washing station and washed our hands. Except that we already had on two pairs of gloves, one pair over the other... but it was required, and actually a pretty good idea. Still, it was always weird washing my double gloved hands.
Depending on what I was doing, I could usually count on a lot of time just waiting for a process to finish. For example, once I had selected the correct plate for the job and calculated the correct dose for the Alta laser, all that was left was to set it to writing and the hard part was done. Then I'd frequently have up to several hours with nothing better to do than just twiddle my thumbs and wait for it to finish etching circuitry. It was the same with metal deposition and plasma etch... lots of time to hurry up and wait.
Each fab has an extensive air filtration system which functions ceaselessly, providing a constant hum in the background which usually goes unnoticed. During these waiting times I'd usually have a seat next to the machine and listen to the sound of the air system. Frequently I'd find myself lulled into a relaxed, almost hypnotic state by the soothing hum of it. Sometimes I'd close my eyes and get lost in it.
I used to imagine I was sitting in a comfortable lounge chair with a glass of iced tea sitting on a side table. I would be facing a wall of glass that ran from floor to ceiling and tilted away from me at about a 45 degree angle. The glass stretched to the left and to the right for about 20 feet in both directions, forming one long, unbroken window. This 'window room' was hovering above a desert of concrete which was broken up into geometrically precise yet random sections. Each section varied only a little in height from the adjacent sections, giving a slight but definite impression of depth to the flat immensity which stretched away in all directions, towards the horizon and infinity. The sky outside was an intense and perfect blue, and the sun was bright, shining relentlessly on the perfect desolation of technical concrete. I always imagined how hot it would be outside with all of that concrete soaking up the brutal heat of the sun as it beat down mercilessly, but inside my window room, with the sound of the air conditioner, and my iced tea, I was cool and relaxed and happy.
Then we had to go through an 'air shower'. It was actually an airlock, but instead of sucking all of the air out and creating a vacuum, it blew a lot of air in and increased the air pressure to that of the inside of the fab (it also blew all of the stray particles off of you and into the HEPA filters). The inside of the fab was always kept at a higher pressure than the outside so that if there were ever a leak, air would blow OUT of the fab and not IN. After the air shower, we went to the hand washing station and washed our hands. Except that we already had on two pairs of gloves, one pair over the other... but it was required, and actually a pretty good idea. Still, it was always weird washing my double gloved hands.
Depending on what I was doing, I could usually count on a lot of time just waiting for a process to finish. For example, once I had selected the correct plate for the job and calculated the correct dose for the Alta laser, all that was left was to set it to writing and the hard part was done. Then I'd frequently have up to several hours with nothing better to do than just twiddle my thumbs and wait for it to finish etching circuitry. It was the same with metal deposition and plasma etch... lots of time to hurry up and wait.
Each fab has an extensive air filtration system which functions ceaselessly, providing a constant hum in the background which usually goes unnoticed. During these waiting times I'd usually have a seat next to the machine and listen to the sound of the air system. Frequently I'd find myself lulled into a relaxed, almost hypnotic state by the soothing hum of it. Sometimes I'd close my eyes and get lost in it.
I used to imagine I was sitting in a comfortable lounge chair with a glass of iced tea sitting on a side table. I would be facing a wall of glass that ran from floor to ceiling and tilted away from me at about a 45 degree angle. The glass stretched to the left and to the right for about 20 feet in both directions, forming one long, unbroken window. This 'window room' was hovering above a desert of concrete which was broken up into geometrically precise yet random sections. Each section varied only a little in height from the adjacent sections, giving a slight but definite impression of depth to the flat immensity which stretched away in all directions, towards the horizon and infinity. The sky outside was an intense and perfect blue, and the sun was bright, shining relentlessly on the perfect desolation of technical concrete. I always imagined how hot it would be outside with all of that concrete soaking up the brutal heat of the sun as it beat down mercilessly, but inside my window room, with the sound of the air conditioner, and my iced tea, I was cool and relaxed and happy.
Thursday, March 24, 2011
The angry lady
The other day Brittney and I were working together. It was still early, about 3:00, and Brittney was dealing with a customer who was giving her a hard time. I didn't follow what was going on until after the fact, when Brittney and Chiy were talking about it. By the tone of their conversation, some drama had just played out, so I asked Brittney what had happened.
Brittney described the customer to me as the lady who drives the city bus, and I remembered her as someone I had never really had a pleasant dealing with; she always seemed to be in a bad mood. Apparently this lady had filled a Big Gulp cup with iced coffee, instead of using one of the iced coffee cups. A Big Gulp cup is twice the size of a regular iced coffee cup, so Chiy told Brittney to charge the lady twice for a regular iced coffee. Brittney did, and the lady threw a fit because the Big Gulp cups were near the iced coffee dispenser, and she should be able to use one and be charged regular price.
I would normally be sympathetic to a customer in this type of situation if the circumstances weren't extenuating, but they were, since there are iced coffee cups right next to the iced coffee dispenser which say 'iced coffee' on them. The iced coffee dispenser is right next to the soda fountain, and The Big Gulp cups are underneath the soda fountain. Thus, the Big Gulp cups do happen to be in the general vicinity of the iced coffee dispenser, but anyone with half a brain and who wasn't deliberately trying to get more for less would know that they aren't meant to be used for the iced coffee.
Brittney tried to explain the situation to her, but the lady wouldn't have any of it. After speaking angrily to Brittney and just being generally unpleasant, Chiy finally told Brittney to just charge her for a regular iced coffee, and that was the end of that.
The next day I was working with Mattius, and Chiy was telling him about what had happened the day before. At that time, the lady came into the store again and I recognized her. She was tall and thin and white, probably about 50, and wearing the city uniform for a bus driver. I was a little peeved at her for the way she had treated Brittney the day before, so I have to admit that I was ready and waiting to see if she was going to give us a hard time again. We watched her go over to the soda fountain and fill a half gallon thermos with soda, making sure she wasn't putting iced coffee in it. She wasn't, so I figured that there wouldn't be any conflict with her.
She brought the thermos to Matius and said it was a refill. Matius rang it up. With tax it came to 96 cents, and predictably, she threw another fit.
Lady: How much was that?
Matius: 96 cents.
Lady: I thought it was supposed to be 89 cents.
Matius: It is, but there's tax.
Lady: I wish you guys would make up your minds about your prices. (rolleyes)
Matius: It's 96 cents after tax.
Lady: You should have told me that to begin with then. I had the same problem yesterday with the other clerk.
I was standing next to the roller grill, watching this, and Chiy was standing next to me. We exchanged glances, and Matius turned around and looked at us with this 'WTF?' look on his face.
At this time I just seen red. I thought, 'This dragon lady comes into the store every day in a bad mood, is never pleasant to deal with, and for the past two days she has decided to share her misery with two of my friends over trivial matters. She's unpleasant, rude, insulting, and I'm not going to stand here and let her get away with it.' I decided to let her have it.
Me: What is your problem exactly? First off, you filled a half gallon thermos with soda, and we charged you a regular refill price for it. That's 89 cents for the same amount of soda that you would get if you bought a 2 liter bottle for 2.49. And since we live in America, I'd think that you would be used to the concept of taxes by now. The refill is 89 cents before tax, and after tax it's 96 cents. We're not trying to make this difficult for you; you're going to run into taxes everywhere you go. And this soda you are purchasing is less than a dollar. A dollar! Is it really worth throwing a fit over? And is it really going to break your bank account to pay an extra 7 cents? Besides, you know that there is going to be tax, so why is this such a problem? Think about it. It's not even a dollar! What is there to get upset about?
Lady: ...
Me: You come in here with this attitude every day, and it's just bad. Your mood is always bad. You bring it in here, and you inflict it upon us, and we don't deserve it. Besides, you're only hurting yourself by walking around with this chip on your shoulder, and trying to make us miserable too isn't going to make things better for you at all.
Lady: ...
Chiy: And if you don't like the store, you don't have to come back. You go to other store, there are plenty other stores in Denton.
Lady: ...
At that point she was just furious and couldn't get any words out except things like 'well' and 'I don't think so'. She turned and left and she hasn't been back since.
Afterward I felt bad about tearing into her like that. Underneath my desire to not let her get away with being a bitch, I had the idea somewhere in my brain that I was trying to help her somehow, by making her aware of how pointless it was to carry around a chip on her shoulder like that. But I wound up getting upset too, and probably didn't do any good at all.
Brittney described the customer to me as the lady who drives the city bus, and I remembered her as someone I had never really had a pleasant dealing with; she always seemed to be in a bad mood. Apparently this lady had filled a Big Gulp cup with iced coffee, instead of using one of the iced coffee cups. A Big Gulp cup is twice the size of a regular iced coffee cup, so Chiy told Brittney to charge the lady twice for a regular iced coffee. Brittney did, and the lady threw a fit because the Big Gulp cups were near the iced coffee dispenser, and she should be able to use one and be charged regular price.
I would normally be sympathetic to a customer in this type of situation if the circumstances weren't extenuating, but they were, since there are iced coffee cups right next to the iced coffee dispenser which say 'iced coffee' on them. The iced coffee dispenser is right next to the soda fountain, and The Big Gulp cups are underneath the soda fountain. Thus, the Big Gulp cups do happen to be in the general vicinity of the iced coffee dispenser, but anyone with half a brain and who wasn't deliberately trying to get more for less would know that they aren't meant to be used for the iced coffee.
Brittney tried to explain the situation to her, but the lady wouldn't have any of it. After speaking angrily to Brittney and just being generally unpleasant, Chiy finally told Brittney to just charge her for a regular iced coffee, and that was the end of that.
The next day I was working with Mattius, and Chiy was telling him about what had happened the day before. At that time, the lady came into the store again and I recognized her. She was tall and thin and white, probably about 50, and wearing the city uniform for a bus driver. I was a little peeved at her for the way she had treated Brittney the day before, so I have to admit that I was ready and waiting to see if she was going to give us a hard time again. We watched her go over to the soda fountain and fill a half gallon thermos with soda, making sure she wasn't putting iced coffee in it. She wasn't, so I figured that there wouldn't be any conflict with her.
She brought the thermos to Matius and said it was a refill. Matius rang it up. With tax it came to 96 cents, and predictably, she threw another fit.
Lady: How much was that?
Matius: 96 cents.
Lady: I thought it was supposed to be 89 cents.
Matius: It is, but there's tax.
Lady: I wish you guys would make up your minds about your prices. (rolleyes)
Matius: It's 96 cents after tax.
Lady: You should have told me that to begin with then. I had the same problem yesterday with the other clerk.
I was standing next to the roller grill, watching this, and Chiy was standing next to me. We exchanged glances, and Matius turned around and looked at us with this 'WTF?' look on his face.
At this time I just seen red. I thought, 'This dragon lady comes into the store every day in a bad mood, is never pleasant to deal with, and for the past two days she has decided to share her misery with two of my friends over trivial matters. She's unpleasant, rude, insulting, and I'm not going to stand here and let her get away with it.' I decided to let her have it.
Me: What is your problem exactly? First off, you filled a half gallon thermos with soda, and we charged you a regular refill price for it. That's 89 cents for the same amount of soda that you would get if you bought a 2 liter bottle for 2.49. And since we live in America, I'd think that you would be used to the concept of taxes by now. The refill is 89 cents before tax, and after tax it's 96 cents. We're not trying to make this difficult for you; you're going to run into taxes everywhere you go. And this soda you are purchasing is less than a dollar. A dollar! Is it really worth throwing a fit over? And is it really going to break your bank account to pay an extra 7 cents? Besides, you know that there is going to be tax, so why is this such a problem? Think about it. It's not even a dollar! What is there to get upset about?
Lady: ...
Me: You come in here with this attitude every day, and it's just bad. Your mood is always bad. You bring it in here, and you inflict it upon us, and we don't deserve it. Besides, you're only hurting yourself by walking around with this chip on your shoulder, and trying to make us miserable too isn't going to make things better for you at all.
Lady: ...
Chiy: And if you don't like the store, you don't have to come back. You go to other store, there are plenty other stores in Denton.
Lady: ...
At that point she was just furious and couldn't get any words out except things like 'well' and 'I don't think so'. She turned and left and she hasn't been back since.
Afterward I felt bad about tearing into her like that. Underneath my desire to not let her get away with being a bitch, I had the idea somewhere in my brain that I was trying to help her somehow, by making her aware of how pointless it was to carry around a chip on her shoulder like that. But I wound up getting upset too, and probably didn't do any good at all.
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