Stuck

It's times like these, when I'm caught in the small hours, that I feel like a prisoner inside myself. That doesn't make a lot of sense though... am I the prison, or the prisoner? Both, I think. I feel despair as a warm, soft hand cupping my face, supporting the dead weight of my head as my tears slowly soak the tangled ends of my hair, gathered in the foreign comfort of open palms. Inside I am so lonely. Outside I can only hope my flawed love serves a fruitful purpose.  I want what's best but it hurts.  I don't want it to hurt anymore.

Lets end this with a picture of a 6 and a half foot man dressed in a black leotard top and frilly tutu with a blond wig and tall black prostitute boots ordering a Whatacatch sandwich at Whataburger. When he ordered it, the cashier looked at him and said, "What A Catch you are!" To which the guy replied, "Who did you think they named the thandwich after, thithter?"

Comfort

Last night I took another long walk, like I normally do. This past spring when I was horribly sad, I would walk through the apartment complex of a particular person who I missed terribly, late at night, as part of my walking route. I'd always feel comforted for a few minutes as I passed through, knowing that this person who had abruptly disappeared from my life was close by.

I took that same route again last night, searching for comfort in the dark. When I got there, I passed by a couple of people standing in the parking lot and talking. I didn't know who it was until I passed by, and she said, "Hey Ash!" It was a girl I know from work who happens to live in that apartment building.

I stopped and was pleasantly surprised to see her. She had just gotten her car back from the shop and was talking to the guys who had fixed it. We stood outside at midnight and talked for about 15 minutes, and then I wished her a good night and continued my reading walk. I felt much better.

Funny how God offers us comfort from unexpected directions.

Dichotomy

Dear God:

What does friendship mean? Does such a thing exist in my life? If so, can it survive, whenever I constantly taint it with my own selfish pride? Is the idea of friendship mutually exclusive to the practice of it, or is that just my own notion? Why is it that when I feel love for someone, I expect something in return? Why can't I be selfless in my love for a friend? Is it just something that I have to figure out, something that will come with time and experience? I want to believe in the truth of selfless love. Is that enough, to want to believe?

Your unworthy servant,
Elias

A problem and a solution

So I just left Walgreens with the baddest-ass LED light known to mankind (I recently lost my reading flashlight). I was excited to get it open, of course, so I opened the package and 3 AAA batteries fell to the pavement. I picked them up and tried to put them in the flashlight, but for the life of me I couldn't figure it out. I spent about 10 minutes looking for a battery receptacle on this thing, then finally went back to Walgreens. The cashier would be my tech support.

So, I went back in and explained my dilemma. The tech support guy at the register manhandled the flashlight for about 30 seconds, when suddenly POP! A piece came off, and lo and behold, there was the place for the batteries.

Now, this story may seem trivial and not worth all the hoop-lah, but I truly was baffled as to where to put the batteries. And now I have a new flashlight, a really BRIGHT one... I mean, this thing is emergency bright. I think I might need sunglasses when I read at night...

A dream - tornado

Matt, Chey, mom and I were in a van driving in East Texas. On the horizon, thunderheads were building and lightening was flashing. The lightening storm became more pronounced and the the clouds began to glow an angry red, deep inside where the lightening was being formed. I watched as an extremely bright, glowing blue bolt struck a power plant, and I exclaimed aloud in shock and amazement.

Thick sheets of rain were starting to cascade down from the distant clouds, and as I watched, the sheets began to narrow and form long, slender tornadoes. I counted four of them... three were angled slightly as they trailed down from the clouds, and one stretched across what seemed to be miles almost horizontally until it finally touched the ground. I began to grow alarmed.

We finally arrived home, which was a flimsy trailer. I knew this wouldn't do, and that we would have to find more substantial shelter soon. Mom and Chey went into the house and I stayed on the front steps, calling to Matt to come inside through the howling wind. He had the hatchback of the van open and was digging around for something. The trees were whipping violently and the clouds were roiling all around. I couldn't get Matt to come inside, so I went in, intent on turning on the TV or a radio and finding out exactly where the tornado was, because it seemed very close.

Mom and Chey had the TV on, and there was a newscaster standing under some trees, talking loudly above the noise of the storm into his microphone, trying to ascertain the location of the tornado from his weather man back at the studio. I watched for a while, but when no details were forthcoming, I went into my room to pack some things. When I entered my room, Mandy, the girl from Alaska who I used to say 'hi' to every now and then, was in there. She smiled at me, turned around, and asked me to help her undo her bra. I felt for the clasp through her shirt and found it, and unhooked it, and her bra fell to the floor. She turned around and smiled and said, "No peeking. Now that we're together, no peeking!" I said, "We have to get out of this trailer! The tornado will tear it to pieces!" And with a mischievous smile, she turned and ran from the room.

I stood there kind of stunned for a second, and then I began picking up some clothes and started folding them. I heard mom and Chey yelling for me to come into the kitchen, so I ran in there and saw them watching the TV. The newscaster was still trying to find out where the tornado was, and then the power went out. I panicked for a second and almost bolted, and then the power came back on again just in time to show the tornado hit right where the newscaster was. The trees behind him literally exploded, and bits of detritus flew through the air at deadly speeds. I watched as several of his crew were impaled with sharp pieces of wood, and the screen turned to static.

I ran outside and the tornado was upon us. I knew there was nowhere to run, so I just stood there. It passed very close to us, but didn't make a direct hit. In a few seconds, it was over, and when the dust settled, there were injured people all around me. One of the news crew was standing with his mouth wide open, a long shard of glass stuck in his throat and protruding obscenely. Tears ran down his face as he struggled with it, trying to pull it out. Another man was impaled through the torso by a long branch which protruded from the ground. Other people were standing around and crying.

Sci-fi care package

Several months ago while I was in Alaska, before I discovered the library, I made a public plea on facebook for somebody to send me a book! I was just kidding, but then Rae, an old friend from Jr. High, took it seriously and sent me a sci fi package while I was in Alaska. She's a librarian and had some spare books lying around.

One of them was called 'The Fey - The Sacrifice', the first book in a 5 part series. I was wary about starting it, but I had read every other book she sent and this was the only one left, so I read it, knowing that I didn't have the other 4 books.

It turns out that it is one of the best books I've ever read, and I have the other four ordered through Amazon. The second one got here the other day and I'm halfway through it. I can't wait to read all of them.

Thanks Rae, for sending me some spare books. I never would have known this particular enjoyment if it weren't for your consideration. Thanks for being nice. :)

Lookie cookie

Last night I was at the 7-Eleven on University and Malone. I go in there a lot when I'm taking my night walks, and there's a usually a girl working there who I chat with for a few minutes. We were talking about something ignorant that cracked me up. Anyway, as I was leaving, she said "There goes my favorite customer!"

So I was digging through my bag to get my Pepsid AC and lookie what I found! Four M&M cookies had stowed away in there!

:)

Another late night walk, and a kitty.

Last night I took another late night walk with my book and flashlight. I walked for about two hours, pretty much all over Denton - my path made kind of a big triangle with the Kroger parking lot, the UNT campus, and the downtown square forming the vertices, and I was coming home from the general direction of Kroger. When I go that route, I usually take a shortcut through the parking lot of the Baptist church on Malone, just south of University. So, as I was walking through the well lit parking lot, I spotted a black and white kitty prowling around the edge of the sidewalk near the bushes. When it saw me, it froze and made as if to kick it into high gear. I approached warily and crouched, held out my hand, and said "Here ki ki meow!"

Well, that cat did kick it into high gear, right towards my outstretched hand. It immediately began meowing loudly as it rubbed its head into my open palm. As I stroked it and scratched it's neck and head, it purred loudly, all the while augmenting the petting process by rubbing its head forcibly against my hand and arm and leg; whatever part of me that was the closest to it. After a minute or two of this, I stood up and the kitty started doing figure 8's around and between my ankles, just rubbing and meowing like there was no tomorrow.

And then the kitty did something I've never seen a kitty do before... a dog, yes. But a kitty...? I stopped petting and scratching the kitty and I stood up. The kitty also stood up, latched onto my thigh with its front claws, and began rubbing its head against my knee! As if to say, "Hey, up there! Yeah, you! Down here! Why did you stop? Pet me! Scratch me!" I had to laugh out loud at the overt friendliness of this kitty.

So, I crouched down and pet the kitty some more, and took some pictures. It wouldn't hold still for very long, so I managed to get four decent ones out of about 20 attempts. After about 10 minutes of this I finally decided that I should probably get home, as it was getting late. However, when I started walking the kitty followed me. As it followed, it would lag behind a little, then take a running leap and latch onto my leg again, actually holding on for a couple of strides! It kept this up for about 50 yards, until we reached the point where the parking lot illumination began to fall off. I kept walking for a bit and then turned around to see what the cat was doing. It was just sitting there on the edge of the light, meowing its little kitty head off. I felt sorry for it, so I approached it again and pet it some more, then I started walking again. It followed me a little way out of the light, then sat on its haunches and started crying again.

I tried to get it to follow me home, but it was afraid to leave the light. I contemplated picking it up and carrying it home, but I thought that might frighten it too, so I left the poor kitty there. I might go back tonight and see if it's still there. If it is, I'll try to carry it home. That kitty is just too friendly not to have around the house.

Another late night walk

Last night when I got off work I grabbed my book and flashlight and started walking. My first destination was the square. When I got to the courthouse, there was a group of about 15 kids, probably high school age, standing on the grass between the sidewalk and the courthouse. One had a guitar and was singing "I Dare You To Move" by Switchfoot, and the others were singing along. I remember kind of liking this band, especially that song "Meant To Live".

We were meant to live for so much more
Have we lost ourselves
Somewhere we live inside
Somewhere we live inside

I like that song.

Britney had mentioned something about a friend of hers from her church inviting her downtown to the square to sing after work. Since Switchfoot is a Christian rock band, I thought that maybe this group of people was what her friend was talking about. Anyway, I stood around and watched them for a while, then did a couple more circuits of the courthouse, and left.

Next I found myself walking down Hickory. Now, at night when I'm reading by flashlight, my eyes get adjusted to the bright page and my peripheral vision becomes useless, unless there are streetlights. Walking on the sidewalk is kind of a challenge, because I can't see exactly where I'm going, and I tend to stumble off of the curb quite a bit. So, when it's late and there's no traffic, I usually walk down the middle of the road if I'm in a residential area. I usually don't walk in the middle of the major city streets, but since Hickory is one way, I didn't have to worry about people driving up behind me, so I just walked down the middle of Hickory towards Fry Street and kept an eye out for approaching headlights.

About halfway to Fry Street, I heard somebody yell, "Hey, what are you reading?"

I stopped and saw a couple of guys standing in their front yard. I called to them, "I'm reading a fantasy novel called 'The Fey - The Changeling'. It's the second book in a five part series, and it's really good." I walked over to them and explained the book to them.

"So, do you read a lot?"

"Yeah, all the time. This is kind of a hobby of mine, walking late at night and reading by flashlight."

"Wow, that's a cool hobby. Kind of dangerous though, walking in the middle of the road like that."

"Well, Hickory is one way, so I don't have to worry about anyone coming up behind me, and when I see headlights, I just get out of the road."

"True... why the middle of the road though?"

"Because the sidewalk is too narrow, and I can't see it while I'm reading, and I tend to stumble. Sometimes I don't see a curb coming and I'll fall ass over teakettle."

They laughed. "Hey, what's your name man?"

"Elias."

They introduced themselves... and well, shoot, I already forgot their names. Anyway, I told them that I work at 7-Eleven. They said they'd come by and say 'hey'. They seemed pretty cool; one had dreads and the other was just an average looking college kid. Maybe I'll make new friends.

After that, I headed towards Fry Street. As I was passing Riprocks, I heard, "Hey Ash!" I turned and looked, and there was David! I stopped and we talked for about ten minutes about the old days at 7-Eleven. David had a friend with him, and he said that they were out hitting the bars. He asked me if I wanted to drink with them, but I declined because I really wasn't feeling that good... I've been sick for the past week. I just wanted to continue my walk and read. So, we parted ways with the promise that we'd get together soon and hit the bars.

When I got to Fry Street, I took a left on Fry and headed towards the campus and heard "Hey man, so you're off work now?" What? Everybody is talking to me tonight... I turned, and there was a guy I recognize as a customer from 7-Eleven. He had his van set up on the curb with the side door open, and was selling herbs and pipes and stuff. I approached him and explained again about my late night reading walks. He said, "Do you have a cold man?" My voice is pretty messed up right now, so I guess it's obvious. I told him that I had some kind of bug, and he loaded a pipe up with some kind of herb and said that it was good for opening up the sinus passages and loosening the phlegm. I took the pipe and hit it a couple of times. We stood there and talked while I hit the pipe for a while. It smelled and tasted nice, but I don't know if it actually helped my sinuses.

I gave him a three dollar tip and told him that I'd buy a couple of ounces of it from him the next time I saw him, when I had cash. He said it was $15.00. That sounds like a good deal, and even if it doesn't help with my cold, it's pleasant to smoke, and it actually really relaxed me and made me feel calm and peaceful.

After that I walked around the campus for a while and read some more until I couldn't keep my eyes open anymore, then I walked home and hit the sack.

Loud, unwanted sounds

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.

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?

Happy Tree Friends!

These always cheer me up! :)

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).

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.

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.