1. Pray first thing in the morning and maintain a rule of prayer.
2. Instead of wasting time online, read the Bible every day.
3. Say the Jesus Prayer every time you think of it during the day.
4. Make the decision constantly NOT to indulge in passions, even when you fail.
5. Remember your faith in God and always remember that He has a plan for you.
6. Be constantly mindful to offend no one.
7. Love selflessly, always.
8. Always maintain a vigilant defense against the enemy, for you will often be under full attack.
9. If someone offends you or irritates you or challenges your pride, prostrate yourself before them.
10. Pray immediately upon feeling anger, self, pity and pride, thanking God and asking forgiveness.
11. Thank God for all situations, good and bad, knowing that all is according to His will.
12. Be a ministry for God in all you say and do.
Saturday, March 12, 2011
Friday, March 11, 2011
Knowing God's will
Lately I've been preoccupied with the desire to know God's will for me. A friend once told me, before my time started with the church, that I was letting myself be distracted with ideas like 'proof' and 'evidence'. I think this might turn out to be a recurring issue for me; this tendency I have to become distracted along the Way. In an effort to clear away the cobwebs, I've isolated a few items which I can be positive are God's will for me:
God wants me to learn humility.
God wants me to vanquish my pride.
God wants me to learn forgiveness.
God wants me to learn patience.
God wants me to be a worthy vessel for His Holy Spirit.
God wants me to pray ceaselessly.
God wants me to be a ministry for Him in my daily life with everyone I encounter.
God wants that I should not cause harm to or offend anyone.
Of course, I still don't know if His will is for me to be married, or to become a priest, or a monk, or to be the first piano player on Mars. Maybe I should just stop trying to figure it out.
God wants me to learn humility.
God wants me to vanquish my pride.
God wants me to learn forgiveness.
God wants me to learn patience.
God wants me to be a worthy vessel for His Holy Spirit.
God wants me to pray ceaselessly.
God wants me to be a ministry for Him in my daily life with everyone I encounter.
God wants that I should not cause harm to or offend anyone.
Of course, I still don't know if His will is for me to be married, or to become a priest, or a monk, or to be the first piano player on Mars. Maybe I should just stop trying to figure it out.
Tuesday, March 8, 2011
Cheese week.
Well, I've failed the first two days of clean week. I've effectively eaten an entire bottle of parmesan cheese, all by itself. But I've been good otherwise.
I'm a creep. I'm a weirdo... and that poor lady.
So I'm at work, lurking behind the dumpster and smoking a cigarette, saying "Woe to you O Earth and sea, for the devil sends the beast with wrath, for he knows the time is short. Let him who hath understanding reckon the number of the beast, for it is a human number. It's number is six hundred and sixty six," in my deepest, evilest British voice. You know, just being generally creepy, when I came around the corner and there was this lady standing there. Well, I paused mid-growl and she looked at me with fear stricken eyes for just a second, and then I smiled and she smiled and we looked at each other for another couple of seconds in awkward silence. Then she recognized my signature ShmelvinElvin shirt and came to. Apparently she also recognized authority when she saw it, because she motioned to her car, which was all wrecked to crap on one side, and asked me to please notify the driver of the Coca Cola delivery truck, which she had backed into, and which wasn't damaged at all. Well, I had to call the cops and it was just a big mess, and that poor lady. Just, her car was all smooshed, and well, crap. Bad luck. That poor lady.
Conversations at work
lil’ Steve: Hey, you back from singing?
Me: Yeah, all done.
lil’ Steve: Did you go eat ice cream?
Me: Uh… yeah.
lil’ Steve: Did you get attacked by mormons?
Me: Nah, there weren’t any.
lil’ Steve: Was she there?
Me: Uh… yeah.
lil’ Steve: Is that why you left early?
Me: … Nah, I just didn’t have any money.
lil’ Steve: She was in here the other day with this tall guy with tattoos.
Me: Uh…
lil’ Steve: Was that the guy?
Me: … fuck.
lil’ Steve: You’re better looking than him!
———————————————————
Brittney: What happened to your hand?
Me: So, I was walking along and reading, and I tripped and fell.
Brittney: What were you reading?
Me: My prayer book. Funny thing though…
Brittney: What?
Me: I was angry when I was praying, and I tripped and fell. I think that’s God slapping me upside the head, it’s happened before.
Brittney: Why were you angry?
Me: Because I invited her back into my life, but I still feel pain. It didn’t get any better, I feel pain either way… either I’m feeling guilty or heartbroken, usually both though. I think it’s better this way though, because I felt worse trying to shut her out.
Brittney: I know, I’ve gone through the same thing. I think some people weren’t meant to be bad.
———————————————————
Brittney: That girl you just checked, I think she was in Jet, the video of the month.
Me: Oh, the one that was just here?
Brittney: Yeah, I think I remember her. Do you know what I’m talking about, the video special?
Me: Well, not really, but I think I have an idea. She was in Jet magazine, right?
Brittney: Yeah, the video of the month. You know what I’m talking about?
Me: Well, yeah, sure. I mean, not really, but yeah, I don’t read Jet, but I think I have an idea. Wow, I just talked to a celebrity then?
Brittney: Yeah, kind of, I guess.
Me: Oh, I hope she shows up again. Next time she’s here, I’ll say to her, ‘Hey, I saw you in Jet magazine’. She’ll say, ‘No way, really? You?’ I’ll say, ‘Yeah sure, I read Jet.’ She’ll say, ‘No way!’ I’ll say, ‘What, you think I don’t read Jet? Why, because I’m white? Is that it?’
Brittney: You’re funny.
———————————————————
Chiy: What happen your hand?
Me: I fell, nose deep in a book.
Chiy: You have to watch out, be careful. You think you invincible? Car drive by, hit you!
Me: Yeah, I know, it’s happened before, way worse than this.
Chiy: You walk up to street, you have to look both way!
Me: Yeah, but when you live my life, you have to take those risks.
Chiy: But you get hit by a car, you don’t have life anymore!
Me: Well, I guess…
Chiy: You need to look both way before you cross street! Keep your head out of the book!
Me: Well, I’m usually pretty careful…
Chiy: You can’t get sick, who I get to work? You feeling ok? You not sick are you?
Me: No Chiy, I’m ok, I just fell.
Chiy: You don’t get sick, ok? You see doctor! You be careful!
Me: Ok Chiy, I’ll be more careful.
Me: Yeah, all done.
lil’ Steve: Did you go eat ice cream?
Me: Uh… yeah.
lil’ Steve: Did you get attacked by mormons?
Me: Nah, there weren’t any.
lil’ Steve: Was she there?
Me: Uh… yeah.
lil’ Steve: Is that why you left early?
Me: … Nah, I just didn’t have any money.
lil’ Steve: She was in here the other day with this tall guy with tattoos.
Me: Uh…
lil’ Steve: Was that the guy?
Me: … fuck.
lil’ Steve: You’re better looking than him!
———————————————————
Brittney: What happened to your hand?
Me: So, I was walking along and reading, and I tripped and fell.
Brittney: What were you reading?
Me: My prayer book. Funny thing though…
Brittney: What?
Me: I was angry when I was praying, and I tripped and fell. I think that’s God slapping me upside the head, it’s happened before.
Brittney: Why were you angry?
Me: Because I invited her back into my life, but I still feel pain. It didn’t get any better, I feel pain either way… either I’m feeling guilty or heartbroken, usually both though. I think it’s better this way though, because I felt worse trying to shut her out.
Brittney: I know, I’ve gone through the same thing. I think some people weren’t meant to be bad.
———————————————————
Brittney: That girl you just checked, I think she was in Jet, the video of the month.
Me: Oh, the one that was just here?
Brittney: Yeah, I think I remember her. Do you know what I’m talking about, the video special?
Me: Well, not really, but I think I have an idea. She was in Jet magazine, right?
Brittney: Yeah, the video of the month. You know what I’m talking about?
Me: Well, yeah, sure. I mean, not really, but yeah, I don’t read Jet, but I think I have an idea. Wow, I just talked to a celebrity then?
Brittney: Yeah, kind of, I guess.
Me: Oh, I hope she shows up again. Next time she’s here, I’ll say to her, ‘Hey, I saw you in Jet magazine’. She’ll say, ‘No way, really? You?’ I’ll say, ‘Yeah sure, I read Jet.’ She’ll say, ‘No way!’ I’ll say, ‘What, you think I don’t read Jet? Why, because I’m white? Is that it?’
Brittney: You’re funny.
———————————————————
Chiy: What happen your hand?
Me: I fell, nose deep in a book.
Chiy: You have to watch out, be careful. You think you invincible? Car drive by, hit you!
Me: Yeah, I know, it’s happened before, way worse than this.
Chiy: You walk up to street, you have to look both way!
Me: Yeah, but when you live my life, you have to take those risks.
Chiy: But you get hit by a car, you don’t have life anymore!
Me: Well, I guess…
Chiy: You need to look both way before you cross street! Keep your head out of the book!
Me: Well, I’m usually pretty careful…
Chiy: You can’t get sick, who I get to work? You feeling ok? You not sick are you?
Me: No Chiy, I’m ok, I just fell.
Chiy: You don’t get sick, ok? You see doctor! You be careful!
Me: Ok Chiy, I’ll be more careful.
Things that crack me up at church if I dwell on them
WISDOM! Let us pretend...
God grant us many hairs...
God grant us many beers...
God grant us mini-bears...
The holy magnifying glasses held by the servers standing on either side of the priest
A loud fart right in the middle of the Epistle reading at liturgy
Stop looking at my butt when I venerate the icons!
Demons in the floor, demons in the floor, don't look at them... gonna get me... don't look at them...
...to be continued...
God grant us many hairs...
God grant us many beers...
God grant us mini-bears...
The holy magnifying glasses held by the servers standing on either side of the priest
A loud fart right in the middle of the Epistle reading at liturgy
Stop looking at my butt when I venerate the icons!
Demons in the floor, demons in the floor, don't look at them... gonna get me... don't look at them...
...to be continued...
Loud noises
I just realized that the noise of the gunshot is responsible for a lot of the death that results from the actual gun. Think about this... the situation is tense. The crazy insane guy has the hostage. The SWAT team is about to bust in, and the negotiator is talking frantically, begging the chief to hold off on full breach, to give him some more time. Then, suddenly, A GUNSHOT! LOUD! OW MY EARS! WHO FIRED? Who was it, the crazy insane guy, or one of the SWAT guys, or was it he hero who is going against orders, trying to save the day? Well, whoeverthehell it was doesn't matter, because now everybody is shooting like lunatics and everybody dies. All because of the noise of one gun going off. Now, what if the gun had gone off, but nobody heard it? It doesn't matter who fired the shot or what happened as a result. Maybe somebody dropped dead, or maybe a window got broken. Neither of those would be very loud... the noise of a body hitting the floor, a medium sized sound of the bullet going through glass. Most likely nobody would notice for a few seconds, and when they did, they would be more confused than anything. That would produce the element of time needed for people to react. To think, and to realize that maybe a gun had gone off. Probably they wouldn't just reflexively hammer down on their triggers and send bullets whizzing all over the place. It's likely that things would turn out with a few less dead bodies if the noise of the gun going off hadn't spooked everybody like cattle.
This can be applied to war situations too. Imagine tanks and machine guns and missiles and all of those things that make loud noises. What if they were silent? Scenarios practically erupt from this idea, in which less people get killed because of the absence of instinctual panic that loud noises create.
I guess my point is this. Loud noises make people nervous.
This can be applied to war situations too. Imagine tanks and machine guns and missiles and all of those things that make loud noises. What if they were silent? Scenarios practically erupt from this idea, in which less people get killed because of the absence of instinctual panic that loud noises create.
I guess my point is this. Loud noises make people nervous.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
My day off
Yesterday morning I got a call that woke me up. I picked up the phone and groaned when I saw that it was Chiy. Somebody called off work and he wants me to come in, I thought. I checked the time... it was 11:41 am. Ok, he probably wants me to come in at 2:00, so I can at least get some more sleep. I drifted off again and the phone rang again...
I answered it and Chiy started off by offering me, in a very apologetic and nervously roundabout way (which I barely understood, due to his accent), an arrangement for Sundays schedule in that instead of working 2:00 to 10:00 I could come in whenever I wanted, do my ordering, and then leave... and would I please come in and work today because both Brittney and Matius called off?
Well heck. What other boss would go to that kind of trouble, in such an obsequious manner, to try to make it as pleasant as possible for an assistant manager to simply perform one of the duties included in the job description, which is covering for sick employees?
Chiy sprung a schedule change on me once that conflicted with church, and I complained about it like a whiney child. Because of and since my little tirade, Chiy has been reluctant to call me in to work on my day off for fear of interrupting any church plans I might have, and he's worked double shifts several times as a result. When I realized that he could have called me at those times but instead chose to work double shifts, I felt rotten. The other day I told him not to hesitate to call me if he needed me to cover for somebody.
So here's what happened on my day off at work yesterday:
1. A customer was buying a 2 liter of Coke and a bag of chips. I steamrollered the bag of chips when I knocked his 2 liter over. It just rolled inexorably over the bag... it didn't even slow down. In a way, it was just completely awesome.
2. A pimply faced Asian teenager and her... boyfriend? 'Big Brother' sponsor? Stepdad? The guy she was with was heavy set, looked to be in his early 30's, and definitely wasn't Asian - more like backwoods hillbilly. Anyway, these two stood outside for a while and I couldn't help but notice the Asian had a big ole frowny face. She was looking at the Red Box while big brother picked out a movie. She didn't seem pleased with his choice. After this she came into the store, Miss Frowny Face, and headed over to the donuts.
Then big brother came in and declared, "I am so hungry. I mean, you don't know how hungry I am. Come on, lets go! We don't have time for donuts!"
Frowny face pouted. "I want a donut!"
"No time!" said brother hillbilly. "Come on, lets go, I am SO
HUNGRY! I'm STARVING!"
"But I wanted some coffee," bleated frowny face as she followed him out.
"You just don't understand how hungry I am..." and his voice faded as they exited the store. I thought they were gone, but after about half a minute Frowny face came back in and headed over to the coffee pots and poured a cup. I looked outside and saw hillbilly brother standing next to the car with the door open, waiting with his arms crossed, looking as if he was about to drop dead from starvation. Frowny face was smiling as she paid for her coffee.
3. At one point I was talking to Brian when he suddenly laughed and exclaimed, "Look at that!" I followed him over to the hot dog grill. Yup, those hot dogs were trying to escape again. One had already fallen onto the floor, and another had fallen onto the grease catcher beneath the grill. The other two were in the process of escaping, with one half on one roller and half on another, and the other wedged between the last roller and the edge of the grill. It had gotten stuck.
4. Chiy gave me a Twisted Tea hat. It looks exactly like something a podunk hillbilly would wear. It was part of a promotional package for Twisted Tea, the new wave in alcohol consumption - iced tea with 5.5% alcohol. Two bottles came with the promo package; one was regular and the other was lemon. Chiy said, "Here, I give these to you." He handed me the bottles. "You take home and drink and then tell me if it good. If it good, we order it and see if it sell." So, I took home and I try, and it taste just like tea. Tea with alcohol in it. I call Chiy a few minutes ago and tell him that it have no carbonation, it taste just like tea with alcohol in it. I tell him that I like it, that maybe we try to sell it. Maybe customer like, maybe not, but is worth trying, I tell him. So we order some Twisted Tea and see if people like. If they like, we sell. If they don't, I take home and drink, I guess.
I answered it and Chiy started off by offering me, in a very apologetic and nervously roundabout way (which I barely understood, due to his accent), an arrangement for Sundays schedule in that instead of working 2:00 to 10:00 I could come in whenever I wanted, do my ordering, and then leave... and would I please come in and work today because both Brittney and Matius called off?
Well heck. What other boss would go to that kind of trouble, in such an obsequious manner, to try to make it as pleasant as possible for an assistant manager to simply perform one of the duties included in the job description, which is covering for sick employees?
Chiy sprung a schedule change on me once that conflicted with church, and I complained about it like a whiney child. Because of and since my little tirade, Chiy has been reluctant to call me in to work on my day off for fear of interrupting any church plans I might have, and he's worked double shifts several times as a result. When I realized that he could have called me at those times but instead chose to work double shifts, I felt rotten. The other day I told him not to hesitate to call me if he needed me to cover for somebody.
So here's what happened on my day off at work yesterday:
1. A customer was buying a 2 liter of Coke and a bag of chips. I steamrollered the bag of chips when I knocked his 2 liter over. It just rolled inexorably over the bag... it didn't even slow down. In a way, it was just completely awesome.
2. A pimply faced Asian teenager and her... boyfriend? 'Big Brother' sponsor? Stepdad? The guy she was with was heavy set, looked to be in his early 30's, and definitely wasn't Asian - more like backwoods hillbilly. Anyway, these two stood outside for a while and I couldn't help but notice the Asian had a big ole frowny face. She was looking at the Red Box while big brother picked out a movie. She didn't seem pleased with his choice. After this she came into the store, Miss Frowny Face, and headed over to the donuts.
Then big brother came in and declared, "I am so hungry. I mean, you don't know how hungry I am. Come on, lets go! We don't have time for donuts!"
Frowny face pouted. "I want a donut!"
"No time!" said brother hillbilly. "Come on, lets go, I am SO
HUNGRY! I'm STARVING!"
"But I wanted some coffee," bleated frowny face as she followed him out.
"You just don't understand how hungry I am..." and his voice faded as they exited the store. I thought they were gone, but after about half a minute Frowny face came back in and headed over to the coffee pots and poured a cup. I looked outside and saw hillbilly brother standing next to the car with the door open, waiting with his arms crossed, looking as if he was about to drop dead from starvation. Frowny face was smiling as she paid for her coffee.
3. At one point I was talking to Brian when he suddenly laughed and exclaimed, "Look at that!" I followed him over to the hot dog grill. Yup, those hot dogs were trying to escape again. One had already fallen onto the floor, and another had fallen onto the grease catcher beneath the grill. The other two were in the process of escaping, with one half on one roller and half on another, and the other wedged between the last roller and the edge of the grill. It had gotten stuck.
4. Chiy gave me a Twisted Tea hat. It looks exactly like something a podunk hillbilly would wear. It was part of a promotional package for Twisted Tea, the new wave in alcohol consumption - iced tea with 5.5% alcohol. Two bottles came with the promo package; one was regular and the other was lemon. Chiy said, "Here, I give these to you." He handed me the bottles. "You take home and drink and then tell me if it good. If it good, we order it and see if it sell." So, I took home and I try, and it taste just like tea. Tea with alcohol in it. I call Chiy a few minutes ago and tell him that it have no carbonation, it taste just like tea with alcohol in it. I tell him that I like it, that maybe we try to sell it. Maybe customer like, maybe not, but is worth trying, I tell him. So we order some Twisted Tea and see if people like. If they like, we sell. If they don't, I take home and drink, I guess.
Thursday, March 3, 2011
A bad evening
Last Sunday night I got home from work and Matt was really drunk. He had been drinking the bottle of Even Williams that I had bought with Chey after we had visited Aunt Sue. He was in a good mood, so we both did a couple of shots. We joked around and had a little fun, and then after a while I went into my room and started typing up a blog. He followed me into my room and tried to get me to play with the dogs with him. I told him that I wanted to finish my blog, and after several failed attempts to elicit my attention, he began to get irritated. He threw a small fit, then got up and went into the living room and yelled, "you're an asshole!" There was silence for about 20 minutes. I finally finished my blog, and when I tried to post it, I realized that I had no internet. I went into the living room to check the connection, and Matt was sitting there by the router, just smiling at me and giving me the finger. I asked him what he was doing, and why he had disconnected my internet. I tried to look at the router, but he kept it away from me, all the while just smiling at me and giving me the finger. He wouldn't respond to me at all. I could see where things were heading, so I decided that I would just leave, so I took my book and flashlight and went on a long walk.
After a couple of hours, I came back and Matt was in the living room with the music turned up. I asked him to turn it down so that I could go to sleep, and he did. I went into my room and got in bed and was trying to doze off when all of a sudden I heard the music blaring again. I got up and opened the door and told Matt that I had to work the next day and needed to get some sleep, and I asked him to turn off the music. He got belligerent and asked me what right I had to think that things always had to go my way, and that the world had to bend to my will. At this point he was just being completely drunk and unreasonable. He smiled at me with this sarcastic, F you smile and started to bring a shot of Even Williams to his lips. I went into the living room and shut off the music, and tried to take the shot from him. We struggled with it, and finally the whiskey spilled all over the couch. We stood there, both of us kind of stunned at what had just happened, and after a few seconds I went back into my room and shut the door.
I tried to go to sleep but Matt was still in the living room, cussing and yelling and just making it impossible for me to sleep, and all the while I was getting more and more angry. I finally got back up and opened the door and asked him what the hell his problem was. He started to insult me. He called me fat, and worthless, and said that I was just a moocher and that he wanted me to just go away, and that he hated me. He said that I couldn't survive without him, and that he was sick of me mooching off of him. He brought up the time that I was drawing unemployment for so long, and said that I had just been stealing from the government and ever since I had been mooching off of him. I couldn't believe what he was accusing me of. Just a week before he had told me that he had dropped all of his classes and was going to keep the thousands of dollars of student loan money so that he could finance a hiking trip across America. I told him that he was the one mooching off of the government, and that he was actually stealing his student loan money so that he could throw away four years of grad school for some crazy backpacking trip.
This made him furious and he got up and pushed me back into my room. He kept pushing me, saying that he was going to kill me. Then he started punching me in the face, as hard as he could. He punched me several times, and I retreated into my room and tried to ward him off. He kept coming and kept punching me, until I had fallen onto the floor and was sitting against the wall with my arms over my head. He couldn't get a good punch in anymore, so he reached under my arms and grabbed my throat and started choking me, all the while shouting that he was going to kill me. I couldn't breathe, and I started to wonder if he really was going to kill me. He held me like that for about 30 seconds with me gasping for breath and he finally let me go. He got up and stormed into the living room and slammed the door to my room. I could hear him yelling and cussing in there, screaming F YOU, I HATE YOU, GET THE F OUT! over and over.
He finally seemed to run out of steam, and after about 10 minutes of silence, I went into the kitchen to get some Gatorade out of the fridge because my throat hurt from being choked. He tried to engage me with insults again, and I told him that I was finished and that I just wanted to sleep because I had to work. I was in a daze, not quite believing what had just happened, and I asked him if I could please just go to sleep now without him storming into my room and beating me up. He yelled at me some more, so I went quickly into my room, closed the door and turned out the light. I sat on my bed for a while, smoking a cigarette, still in a daze, when the door busted open again. Matt entered the room and was screaming, GET THE F OUT, GET THE F OUT! I got up and turned on the light and said, "Ok, I'm leaving, I'm leaving. Let me get dressed and I'll leave." I looked around for my clothes and grabbed my pants. I thought about where I would go, and decided to call Chey. I grabbed for my phone and Matt pushed me away from it. He started to punch me in the face again. I tried to get away but he kept punching me and punching me, as hard as he could.
I was dazed, in pain, and my head was ringing from getting punched in the face so much, so I decided at this point that I should probably start trying to defend myself. As I was scrambling away from him, I threw some punches at him but didn't really connect with any. When I started throwing punches, he grabbed me by the wrists and tried to twist my arms behind me. As I tried to break out of his grip, I forced my arm up and tried to elbow him in the side of the head. He pushed me up against the wall and held my arms down so I couldn't move. He still had a lock on my wrists, so I dropped to my knees and this brought his arms closer to my face. I bit his forearm hard, and he let go. I jumped up and ran across the room. He was coming at me again, so I grabbed the first thing I saw, which was my guitar. I wielded it like a bat and hit him with it as he came at me. The first hit got him in the back. I hit him again, in the arm. I hit him a third time, in the back of the head, and he went down and didn't move. I stood there for a few seconds, shaking with fear and shock and anger. I put the guitar down and started to gather my clothes again. Matt started to move so I knelt down next to him and shouted, "Don't get up! Leave me alone! I'm leaving! Don't get up! I'm leaving! Don't get up! Leave me alone!" I had my fist balled and almost hit him in the face, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I got back up and looked around for my phone. As I was about to grab it, Matt jumped up and grabbed my guitar and started hitting me with it all over my head and back. I tried to block the guitar with my forearm and he hit it and it hurt bad. I managed to grab the neck though, and we struggled with it until finally he pushed as hard as he could and knocked me down. He started to come at me with the guitar, like he was just going to beat me to death with it, and I screamed and covered my head. He stopped and stood there for a few seconds and then threw the guitar against the wall and left.
I sat there for a while, breathing hard and waiting for him to come back. He screamed for a while, saying F YOU, I HATE YOU a few times, and finally things got silent. I tasted blood on my mustache and wiped it with my hand and it came away bloody. I picked up a towel that was on the floor and wiped my face and it came away bloody. After about 10 more minutes I finally decided that it was maybe safe to go into the bathroom to assess the damage, so I did. I looked in the mirror and I thought that my ears looked weird. I noticed that my left ear was lopsided, as if it had been torn away from my head. I felt behind it but there wasn't any blood. I wondered if the cartilage inside had been torn away from my skull, and I hoped that I wasn't going to be deformed for life. I saw that the bridge of my nose was cut and bleeding, and that blood was dripping steadily from my nostrils, soaking my mustache a bloody red, and my forearm was cut. I ran water and splashed my face with it and it came away red and bloody. I tried to clean the blood out of my mustache, but my nose wouldn't stop bleeding. I kept wiping it with the towel I had, which by this time had bloody smears all over it. I gave up trying to make it stop bleeding and just held the towel against my face. Then I went back into my room and was finally able to pick up my phone without Matt attacking me.
My bedroom door was open and Matt was watching me from the living room, and when I started to dial Cheyenne's number, he yelled "Stop! Stop, don't! Please stop! Are you ok? Are you ok, Ash?" I stood there with the phone in my hand and didn't say anything. I had been in a constant state of shock for the last 45 minutes or so, and I couldn't think of anything to say to this sudden display of concern from my brother after he had just tried several times to kill me with his bare hands. I said, "Do you want me to leave? I'll leave, just let me leave and don't attack me again. I swear I'll leave." Then Matt said, "I'm sorry, are you ok?" I said, "I'm bleeding, my nose is bleeding. I don't know if I'm ok. My head hurts. My ear isn't right." I started to go back into my room, thinking that maybe Matt would finally let me rest and leave me in peace. I shut the door and I heard him scream, "You better bet sorry too, mother F'er!" I Immediately picked up the guitar and held it like a club, facing the door, ready and waiting for Matt to come busting through again. I stood like that for about 5 minutes with Matt yelling occasionally from the living room, but my door never busted open. I finally heard him go into his room and shut the door. He was quiet for a while, but now and then I would hear him yell something inarticulate. I got back into bed and tried to go to sleep, but I couldn't get over the fear that Matt would storm back into my room at any minute and attack me again. I finally got up and began to get dressed. I had the idea that I would just walk around for a few hours with my book, and that eventually Matt would pass out and I could come home again safely. So I did that. I got up and got ready, and I assembled a few important things... money, my prayer book, my flashlight, my baptismal cross (which I had taken off when I thought that I was going to bed), cigarettes, gum, my book, and a few other knick knacks. Matt knew that I was up because he could see that my light was on through the crack in my door, and he started shouting at me to leave again. I hurried and when I was finally ready, I left.
After a few hours I came back, hoping that Matt was passed out in his room. I peeked in through the living room window and was filled with dread when I saw Matt sitting in the living room, wide awake. However, I thought that maybe he had calmed down by now, so I opened the door and went quickly into my room. As I passed him, he said "Look at my arm where you bit me, you motherF'er!" I quickly shut my door and got in bed. Nothing happened for about 15 minutes, except that I got unbearably thirsty. I finally had to get up and go into the kitchen for some water. Matt didn't say anything until I started to go back into my room. He said, "I think you broke my arm, you asshole!" He was cradling his left arm. I said, "I'm sorry, but you attacked me." He said, "It hurts like a motherF'er!" I said, "My head hurts too," and it did. "Matt immediately said "Shut the F up!" I hurried into my room and shut the door. I turned off the light, got into bed, and drank the water I had brought with me. After that it was quiet, and I lay there worrying about Matt, hoping that his arm wasn't really broken. Then I heard Matt yell, "HEY!" Oh no. Maybe he was yelling at the dogs. Please no, leave me alone. I just want to be alone. My door opened a crack. I laid motionless, hoping that he wouldn't hit me if I was just lying there. I looked up and he was standing there, handing me a steaming mug. He was using his left arm, and I was relieved to see that it wasn't really broken. "Here's something warm to drink. Some Theraflu. I love you Ash." I took the mug and he shut the door. "I love you too Matt," I said. I took a drink from the mug and set it down, then I tried to go to sleep. My head and ear hurt too bad though, so I just laid there until it was time to get up and go to work.
After a couple of hours, I came back and Matt was in the living room with the music turned up. I asked him to turn it down so that I could go to sleep, and he did. I went into my room and got in bed and was trying to doze off when all of a sudden I heard the music blaring again. I got up and opened the door and told Matt that I had to work the next day and needed to get some sleep, and I asked him to turn off the music. He got belligerent and asked me what right I had to think that things always had to go my way, and that the world had to bend to my will. At this point he was just being completely drunk and unreasonable. He smiled at me with this sarcastic, F you smile and started to bring a shot of Even Williams to his lips. I went into the living room and shut off the music, and tried to take the shot from him. We struggled with it, and finally the whiskey spilled all over the couch. We stood there, both of us kind of stunned at what had just happened, and after a few seconds I went back into my room and shut the door.
I tried to go to sleep but Matt was still in the living room, cussing and yelling and just making it impossible for me to sleep, and all the while I was getting more and more angry. I finally got back up and opened the door and asked him what the hell his problem was. He started to insult me. He called me fat, and worthless, and said that I was just a moocher and that he wanted me to just go away, and that he hated me. He said that I couldn't survive without him, and that he was sick of me mooching off of him. He brought up the time that I was drawing unemployment for so long, and said that I had just been stealing from the government and ever since I had been mooching off of him. I couldn't believe what he was accusing me of. Just a week before he had told me that he had dropped all of his classes and was going to keep the thousands of dollars of student loan money so that he could finance a hiking trip across America. I told him that he was the one mooching off of the government, and that he was actually stealing his student loan money so that he could throw away four years of grad school for some crazy backpacking trip.
This made him furious and he got up and pushed me back into my room. He kept pushing me, saying that he was going to kill me. Then he started punching me in the face, as hard as he could. He punched me several times, and I retreated into my room and tried to ward him off. He kept coming and kept punching me, until I had fallen onto the floor and was sitting against the wall with my arms over my head. He couldn't get a good punch in anymore, so he reached under my arms and grabbed my throat and started choking me, all the while shouting that he was going to kill me. I couldn't breathe, and I started to wonder if he really was going to kill me. He held me like that for about 30 seconds with me gasping for breath and he finally let me go. He got up and stormed into the living room and slammed the door to my room. I could hear him yelling and cussing in there, screaming F YOU, I HATE YOU, GET THE F OUT! over and over.
He finally seemed to run out of steam, and after about 10 minutes of silence, I went into the kitchen to get some Gatorade out of the fridge because my throat hurt from being choked. He tried to engage me with insults again, and I told him that I was finished and that I just wanted to sleep because I had to work. I was in a daze, not quite believing what had just happened, and I asked him if I could please just go to sleep now without him storming into my room and beating me up. He yelled at me some more, so I went quickly into my room, closed the door and turned out the light. I sat on my bed for a while, smoking a cigarette, still in a daze, when the door busted open again. Matt entered the room and was screaming, GET THE F OUT, GET THE F OUT! I got up and turned on the light and said, "Ok, I'm leaving, I'm leaving. Let me get dressed and I'll leave." I looked around for my clothes and grabbed my pants. I thought about where I would go, and decided to call Chey. I grabbed for my phone and Matt pushed me away from it. He started to punch me in the face again. I tried to get away but he kept punching me and punching me, as hard as he could.
I was dazed, in pain, and my head was ringing from getting punched in the face so much, so I decided at this point that I should probably start trying to defend myself. As I was scrambling away from him, I threw some punches at him but didn't really connect with any. When I started throwing punches, he grabbed me by the wrists and tried to twist my arms behind me. As I tried to break out of his grip, I forced my arm up and tried to elbow him in the side of the head. He pushed me up against the wall and held my arms down so I couldn't move. He still had a lock on my wrists, so I dropped to my knees and this brought his arms closer to my face. I bit his forearm hard, and he let go. I jumped up and ran across the room. He was coming at me again, so I grabbed the first thing I saw, which was my guitar. I wielded it like a bat and hit him with it as he came at me. The first hit got him in the back. I hit him again, in the arm. I hit him a third time, in the back of the head, and he went down and didn't move. I stood there for a few seconds, shaking with fear and shock and anger. I put the guitar down and started to gather my clothes again. Matt started to move so I knelt down next to him and shouted, "Don't get up! Leave me alone! I'm leaving! Don't get up! I'm leaving! Don't get up! Leave me alone!" I had my fist balled and almost hit him in the face, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. I got back up and looked around for my phone. As I was about to grab it, Matt jumped up and grabbed my guitar and started hitting me with it all over my head and back. I tried to block the guitar with my forearm and he hit it and it hurt bad. I managed to grab the neck though, and we struggled with it until finally he pushed as hard as he could and knocked me down. He started to come at me with the guitar, like he was just going to beat me to death with it, and I screamed and covered my head. He stopped and stood there for a few seconds and then threw the guitar against the wall and left.
I sat there for a while, breathing hard and waiting for him to come back. He screamed for a while, saying F YOU, I HATE YOU a few times, and finally things got silent. I tasted blood on my mustache and wiped it with my hand and it came away bloody. I picked up a towel that was on the floor and wiped my face and it came away bloody. After about 10 more minutes I finally decided that it was maybe safe to go into the bathroom to assess the damage, so I did. I looked in the mirror and I thought that my ears looked weird. I noticed that my left ear was lopsided, as if it had been torn away from my head. I felt behind it but there wasn't any blood. I wondered if the cartilage inside had been torn away from my skull, and I hoped that I wasn't going to be deformed for life. I saw that the bridge of my nose was cut and bleeding, and that blood was dripping steadily from my nostrils, soaking my mustache a bloody red, and my forearm was cut. I ran water and splashed my face with it and it came away red and bloody. I tried to clean the blood out of my mustache, but my nose wouldn't stop bleeding. I kept wiping it with the towel I had, which by this time had bloody smears all over it. I gave up trying to make it stop bleeding and just held the towel against my face. Then I went back into my room and was finally able to pick up my phone without Matt attacking me.
My bedroom door was open and Matt was watching me from the living room, and when I started to dial Cheyenne's number, he yelled "Stop! Stop, don't! Please stop! Are you ok? Are you ok, Ash?" I stood there with the phone in my hand and didn't say anything. I had been in a constant state of shock for the last 45 minutes or so, and I couldn't think of anything to say to this sudden display of concern from my brother after he had just tried several times to kill me with his bare hands. I said, "Do you want me to leave? I'll leave, just let me leave and don't attack me again. I swear I'll leave." Then Matt said, "I'm sorry, are you ok?" I said, "I'm bleeding, my nose is bleeding. I don't know if I'm ok. My head hurts. My ear isn't right." I started to go back into my room, thinking that maybe Matt would finally let me rest and leave me in peace. I shut the door and I heard him scream, "You better bet sorry too, mother F'er!" I Immediately picked up the guitar and held it like a club, facing the door, ready and waiting for Matt to come busting through again. I stood like that for about 5 minutes with Matt yelling occasionally from the living room, but my door never busted open. I finally heard him go into his room and shut the door. He was quiet for a while, but now and then I would hear him yell something inarticulate. I got back into bed and tried to go to sleep, but I couldn't get over the fear that Matt would storm back into my room at any minute and attack me again. I finally got up and began to get dressed. I had the idea that I would just walk around for a few hours with my book, and that eventually Matt would pass out and I could come home again safely. So I did that. I got up and got ready, and I assembled a few important things... money, my prayer book, my flashlight, my baptismal cross (which I had taken off when I thought that I was going to bed), cigarettes, gum, my book, and a few other knick knacks. Matt knew that I was up because he could see that my light was on through the crack in my door, and he started shouting at me to leave again. I hurried and when I was finally ready, I left.
After a few hours I came back, hoping that Matt was passed out in his room. I peeked in through the living room window and was filled with dread when I saw Matt sitting in the living room, wide awake. However, I thought that maybe he had calmed down by now, so I opened the door and went quickly into my room. As I passed him, he said "Look at my arm where you bit me, you motherF'er!" I quickly shut my door and got in bed. Nothing happened for about 15 minutes, except that I got unbearably thirsty. I finally had to get up and go into the kitchen for some water. Matt didn't say anything until I started to go back into my room. He said, "I think you broke my arm, you asshole!" He was cradling his left arm. I said, "I'm sorry, but you attacked me." He said, "It hurts like a motherF'er!" I said, "My head hurts too," and it did. "Matt immediately said "Shut the F up!" I hurried into my room and shut the door. I turned off the light, got into bed, and drank the water I had brought with me. After that it was quiet, and I lay there worrying about Matt, hoping that his arm wasn't really broken. Then I heard Matt yell, "HEY!" Oh no. Maybe he was yelling at the dogs. Please no, leave me alone. I just want to be alone. My door opened a crack. I laid motionless, hoping that he wouldn't hit me if I was just lying there. I looked up and he was standing there, handing me a steaming mug. He was using his left arm, and I was relieved to see that it wasn't really broken. "Here's something warm to drink. Some Theraflu. I love you Ash." I took the mug and he shut the door. "I love you too Matt," I said. I took a drink from the mug and set it down, then I tried to go to sleep. My head and ear hurt too bad though, so I just laid there until it was time to get up and go to work.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Weird things in the sky
I was Stumbling around online this morning and came across some UFO web pages. This got me to thinking about the two instances in which I've seen weird things flying around in the sky. I don't want to call them UFO's, because that sounds kooky. However, I have no idea what they could have been, and I've never seen anything remotely similar since then. It's interesting to note, however, that these two events occurred within a few months of each other.
May, 1990, around midnight
I was standing in the side yard outside my house in Pittsburg, TX with a friend. We had been watching a far off thunderstorm for about half an hour when we noticed a red light on the horizon. It was far away and somewhat dim, like the red lights on the wings of an airplane. As it approached it got brighter and eventually began to resolve into a multicolored profusion of lights. As clearly as I can remember, it was a cluster of about 6 to 8 lights, arranged in a roughly circular array, with 4 lights, corresponding to 0, 90, 180, and 270 degrees, being brighter, more stable, and more white than the rest. This cluster of lights was flashing in a bizarre way, and not according to any kind of pattern I could discern.
This collection of multicolored, randomly flashing lights came toward us and stopped directly over my house, which was about 100 feet from the garden in which my friend and I were standing. It appeared to be about 100 feet above the house, and if I had to guess based on the cluster of lights as an indicator of size, I would say that it was about 20 feet wide. It was dark, so I couldn't discern the shape of whatever it was that was emitting the lights.
As it stopped over my house, a spotlight shone down from it onto the house. When the spotlight appeared, I panicked and ran into the house. My friend followed me after about 15 more seconds. After I had calmed down a little, we both went back outside and it was gone.
I've thought a lot about what this could have been, and the only thing I can think of is that it was a helicopter, albeit a very strange one. However, it made no noise at all during the entire time, even when it was almost directly overhead, and there was no wind that you would expect from the rotor blades.
August, 1990, probably after 10:00 pm
My brother and I were sitting on the back porch of my dads house in Commerce, TX. We both observed a light on the horizon that was slowly approaching us, which eventually resolved into a cluster of lights as it grew closer. At first it seemed as if we were seeing a recurrence of the same event I had witnessed earlier in the spring, as there were four white lights, arranged in a diamond pattern, with the lights corresponding to 0, 90, 180, and 270 degrees. This light formation differed from the other however, in that it was orderly and lacked the cacophony of flashing, multicolored lights.
My brother and I jumped off the porch and into the yard to get a better view. I had told him about the thing my friend and I had witnessed a few months previously (he had been in the house at the time it happened), so we were both growing excited at the prospect of a similar occurance. We talked about what it could be. It didn't look like an airplane to us, since airplanes usually have red lights which flash in an orderly manner, and you can normally discern the shape of the plane based on the position of the lights on the wingtips and tail. This was four white lights, glowing steadily, arrayed in a diamond pattern, which grew brighter as it got closer.
As it was about to pass overhead, we climbed a barbed wire fence and ran into the adjacent pasture and watched. There was a full moon that night, and as chance would have it, whatever it was we were watching passed directly in front of the moon in relation to our line of sight. Because of this, my brother and I both were able to observe the silhouette of a wheel-like object which contained 2 spokes, arranged in a cross pattern 90 degress to each other. The simplest way to describe it is as a wheel with four spokes radiating from the center. The lights were positioned at the points where these spokes met the wheel. Once again, there wasn't any sound.
As far as speculating as to what this one could have been goes, I have no idea. It reminded me of the wheeled space station in 2001, A Space Odyssey.
This is basically what they looked like:
May, 1990, around midnight
I was standing in the side yard outside my house in Pittsburg, TX with a friend. We had been watching a far off thunderstorm for about half an hour when we noticed a red light on the horizon. It was far away and somewhat dim, like the red lights on the wings of an airplane. As it approached it got brighter and eventually began to resolve into a multicolored profusion of lights. As clearly as I can remember, it was a cluster of about 6 to 8 lights, arranged in a roughly circular array, with 4 lights, corresponding to 0, 90, 180, and 270 degrees, being brighter, more stable, and more white than the rest. This cluster of lights was flashing in a bizarre way, and not according to any kind of pattern I could discern.
This collection of multicolored, randomly flashing lights came toward us and stopped directly over my house, which was about 100 feet from the garden in which my friend and I were standing. It appeared to be about 100 feet above the house, and if I had to guess based on the cluster of lights as an indicator of size, I would say that it was about 20 feet wide. It was dark, so I couldn't discern the shape of whatever it was that was emitting the lights.
As it stopped over my house, a spotlight shone down from it onto the house. When the spotlight appeared, I panicked and ran into the house. My friend followed me after about 15 more seconds. After I had calmed down a little, we both went back outside and it was gone.
I've thought a lot about what this could have been, and the only thing I can think of is that it was a helicopter, albeit a very strange one. However, it made no noise at all during the entire time, even when it was almost directly overhead, and there was no wind that you would expect from the rotor blades.
August, 1990, probably after 10:00 pm
My brother and I were sitting on the back porch of my dads house in Commerce, TX. We both observed a light on the horizon that was slowly approaching us, which eventually resolved into a cluster of lights as it grew closer. At first it seemed as if we were seeing a recurrence of the same event I had witnessed earlier in the spring, as there were four white lights, arranged in a diamond pattern, with the lights corresponding to 0, 90, 180, and 270 degrees. This light formation differed from the other however, in that it was orderly and lacked the cacophony of flashing, multicolored lights.
My brother and I jumped off the porch and into the yard to get a better view. I had told him about the thing my friend and I had witnessed a few months previously (he had been in the house at the time it happened), so we were both growing excited at the prospect of a similar occurance. We talked about what it could be. It didn't look like an airplane to us, since airplanes usually have red lights which flash in an orderly manner, and you can normally discern the shape of the plane based on the position of the lights on the wingtips and tail. This was four white lights, glowing steadily, arrayed in a diamond pattern, which grew brighter as it got closer.
As it was about to pass overhead, we climbed a barbed wire fence and ran into the adjacent pasture and watched. There was a full moon that night, and as chance would have it, whatever it was we were watching passed directly in front of the moon in relation to our line of sight. Because of this, my brother and I both were able to observe the silhouette of a wheel-like object which contained 2 spokes, arranged in a cross pattern 90 degress to each other. The simplest way to describe it is as a wheel with four spokes radiating from the center. The lights were positioned at the points where these spokes met the wheel. Once again, there wasn't any sound.
As far as speculating as to what this one could have been goes, I have no idea. It reminded me of the wheeled space station in 2001, A Space Odyssey.
This is basically what they looked like:
Anticlimax
Father Justin canceled matins and the liturgy, so I am relieved and disappointed at the same time. And with that relief and disappointment come some emotions that I’ve been unconsciously holding in check all day; trying to prepare myself for all of that reading.
Well, it’s canceled now, and I find myself kind of floundering, now that the upcoming excitement is suddenly dissipated. I feel depressed and excited and happy and sad all at the same time. It’s weird. I especially think of Leah at times of confusion, like now. I don’t know if that’s a bad thing, because I already miss her, and missing her more is what… bad? I don’t know. But thinking and dwelling on it only makes me miss her more.
I think I’ll be ok, although I don’t want to admit that. I don’t want to actually know that life is possible without her – that happiness is possible without her – but it is. It’s just my pride that stops me from accepting that. The WANT part of me. I know I’ll be ok, but isn’t it weird that, even knowing that, I still don’t want to accept it? Isn’t pride stupid? That I’d think to myself, ‘I want her, so I’d rather be miserable wanting her and not having her, instead of being happy knowing that God is all I need’. Isn’t that retarded?
Anywho. This is my life and this is what I feel at the moment, so I write it down. That’s my excuse. I’m sure I’ll look back on all of this someday and either laugh or cry. In the meantime, I don’t want to sing beautiful, I just want to sing true.
Well, it’s canceled now, and I find myself kind of floundering, now that the upcoming excitement is suddenly dissipated. I feel depressed and excited and happy and sad all at the same time. It’s weird. I especially think of Leah at times of confusion, like now. I don’t know if that’s a bad thing, because I already miss her, and missing her more is what… bad? I don’t know. But thinking and dwelling on it only makes me miss her more.
I think I’ll be ok, although I don’t want to admit that. I don’t want to actually know that life is possible without her – that happiness is possible without her – but it is. It’s just my pride that stops me from accepting that. The WANT part of me. I know I’ll be ok, but isn’t it weird that, even knowing that, I still don’t want to accept it? Isn’t pride stupid? That I’d think to myself, ‘I want her, so I’d rather be miserable wanting her and not having her, instead of being happy knowing that God is all I need’. Isn’t that retarded?
Anywho. This is my life and this is what I feel at the moment, so I write it down. That’s my excuse. I’m sure I’ll look back on all of this someday and either laugh or cry. In the meantime, I don’t want to sing beautiful, I just want to sing true.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Oh boy...
Tomorrow I get to read, read, read. Read at matins, read the hours before the liturgy, read the Epistle, read the post communion prayers. Dax sent me an e-mail describing what I should do.
Boy oh boy. This should be memorable... almost certainly blog worthy.
Yeesh, Matins is at 6:00 am, so I'll have to get up at 5:00. Lets see, off work at 10:00, I'll be lucky to be asleep by 11:00... 6 hours if I'm extremely lucky, more likely about 4.
First off, when you go to get your blessing before reading Matins or the Hours, go ahead and step up into the altar area and do three prostrations. this is because you will enter the altar later.
During the trisagion hymn, when the choir gets to Glory..., you take the Epistle book and hold it up in front of your face and process into the altar up to Fr. Justin, who will bless the book and you kiss his hand. then process out to the place to read. There will be a sheet in the epistle book with the following dialogue on it already. You read the bold parts. There should be two readings tomorrow, marked by the gold and black page markers. Gold first, then black. Don't worry about the red or green. Each epistle has a few words or one word intro which will be on a sticky note. Look at the calendar tonight and read over the two readings for the day and for St. John in a King James Bible. The Epistle book is KJV.
Epistle-Feb. 24th
Peace be unto all.
And to thy spirit
Wisdom
The Prokeimenon in the Seventh Tone: The righteous shall rejoice in the Lord, and he shall hope in him.
Choir
Hearken, O God, to my voice, when I pray unto Thee.
Choir
The righteous shall rejoice in the Lord.
Choir
Wisdom
The Reading from the Second Epistle of the Holy Apostle Paul to the Corinthians.
Let us attend
Reading No.74 (Gold marker)
Reading No. 176 (Black marker)
Reading No. 176 (Black marker)
Peace be to thee that readest
And to thy spirit
Wisdom
Alleluia, Alleluia, Alleluia in the Fourth Tone.
Choir
The righteous shall flourish like a palm tree; like the cedars of Lebanon shall he increase.
Choir
Truth hath sprung out of the earth; and righteousness hath shone down from heaven.
Choir
Boy oh boy. This should be memorable... almost certainly blog worthy.
Yeesh, Matins is at 6:00 am, so I'll have to get up at 5:00. Lets see, off work at 10:00, I'll be lucky to be asleep by 11:00... 6 hours if I'm extremely lucky, more likely about 4.
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
A stressful day
Today. I felt nauseous before work and didn't want to go. That's pretty normal however, so I went to work as I always do, and the nausea abated after about an hour. I think it was just 'beginning day anxiety', which seems to be a 'one out every couple of days' part of my life that I just have to live with. When I got to work, Brittney told me about her weekend and I told her about mine. I described my Sunday flub to her, and she described her ongoing adventures with trying to get to know her birth mother. The work day progressed, and I ordered wine while Chiy kept barking at us to "Sell The Pizza!"
After about an hour the new owners of the Malone store showed up for a visit with the owners of the Oak St. store, and Brittney asked Chiy's wife, Lin, if they were friends. Lin rolled her eyes and shook her head. She doesn't talk much, but that gesture communicated everything she wanted to say. I guess those Malone store folk must be pretty obnoxious. I've talked to the assistant manager at the Malone store and she said that she didn't like the new owners; that they were disrupting how everything worked and were making things more difficult. This is how I expected it to be with Chiy when I started at 7-Eleven for the second time, but I really like Chiy a lot and am glad to know him and his family.
After Chiy and Lin and Brian left, Brittney had a problem with a customer who had asked her to set pump 2 for $10.00, but what the customer actually meant was pump 1. After the problem was called to her attention, Brittney set the new pump for $10.00. We were busy, so it was easy to forget that the pump 2 was still set, and what happened was this: A guy in a white van pulled up to pump 2 and pumped the gas. He was about to drive off when Brittney explained to me what was happening and asked me to go out there and do something. I ran out there and explained the situation to him. I didn't really know what to do about it, other than to flat out ask him for $10.00, so I asked him to come inside. He seemed affronted by the suggestion, but I'm pretty sure he knew that he had pumped free gas, so he came in without much of a fuss. When we were inside, Brittney and I explained the situation to him again and asked him if he understood, and his response was that he had used his card and pumped the gas normally. Brittney asked him how much he originally wanted, and the guy said five dollars. The question was, why did he keep pumping then? Why didn't he stop at five dollars if he thought that he was using his own card? Brittney asked him to pay five dollars, the amount he originally would have pumped, and that she would pay the other five. He said that all he had was a debit card, and since there was no way to really charge his card for gas that was already pumped, he said that it wasn't his problem. He started to leave. It was busy, and I didn't have time to do anything about it, so I told the guy that if he could live with it on his conscience, he could just take $10.00 worth of free gas that somebody else would have to pay for and leave. He smiled really big and walked out the door. I guess that was his answer. I felt really depressed and angry about that for about half an hour, but later I realized that I couldn't judge the guy because there was a time in my life when I would have thought the same way, with my internal dialogue going something like this - "The store made a mistake. So what if it's technically stealing. It's not my fault, I didn't come here to steal gas. It's not my responsibility. They have to pay for it, and I'm happy as a clam with my ill gotten gas." So Brittney paid for it, and when I get paid I'll give her five dollars. We decided not to tell Chiy about it to avoid stressing him out more than he already was, due to the events I'm about to describe.
Soon after that, we ran out of Mountain Dew, so I went into the back to change it. Well, there wasn't another Mountain Dew on the shelf, and the machine was going PSSSHHHT PSSSHHHT PSSSHHHT PSSSHHHT over and over again, that obnoxious indicator that one of the pumps is out of syrup. In desperation I started to unscrew a screw on the thing to see if it would close a valve or something, and the thing shot out like a bullet and broke in half. After that the PSSSHHHT PSSSHHHT PSSSHHHT became a constant HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Instant panic set in. I felt like I had just triggered the timer on an atom bomb and that it was up to me to defuse it. I spent about twenty minutes trying everything I could to stop the CO2 leak. I pressed my thumb against it. I pressed my palm against it. I pressed napkins against it. I tried to wedge a wrench with one end wrapped in plastic between the leak and the edge of the shelf. I tried to wedge a piece of plastic with a screw shoved in it into the hole. Nothing worked, and meanwhile CO2 was blowing out of this valve at full force. I knew that if this continued that eventually the CO2 tank would be completely empty, and I didn't even want to think about what it would cost to fill the dang thing. Chiy would expel bricks out of his posterior. Out of desperation I got up and started closing valves on the actual CO2 canister, which is a big silver tank about four feel tall. I experimented with several valves until I finally found one that did something. As I turned it the noise of the leak started to abate, and I watched as the CO2 pressure gauge slowly fell to zero. PHEW! I had defused the bomb. Denton was safe.
I called Chiy and he wasn't happy at all. After about 20 minutes of crazy anxiety talky yammering godzillaspeak about how much it would cost to fix and how much money the store would lose because we couldn't sell slurpees or fountain drinks, he finally calmed down a little. Eventually things were almost normal again, with Chiy telling me not to feel bad, that it was a learning experience. He called me twice after that, each time telling me not to feel bad, that it's ok, everything is ok, it's ok.
Oh, and by the way. Here comes the icing on the cake. While all of this was going on, Brittney was the essence of 'flat out good person'. She did everything she could to help me as I tried to plug a raging gas leak with the palm of my hand, all the while dealing with a line of customers that went back to the cooler. And, unbeknownst to me until after I'd stopped the leak, all during this time there was another ongoing crisis at the slurpee machine. A customer had poured a Wild Cherry Slurpee - how I hate Wild Cherry Slurpee - and of course the handle stuck as it is wont to do, and soon we had a lake of bubbly red half frozen crap to deal with on top of the CO2 leak. I didn't know anything about this until after I had stopped the leak and was feeling like a hero, only to walk back up front to see Brittney mopping up this red river of madness. She hadn't said a word about it the whole time I was back there bitching and moaning and panicking, and now there she was, shlopping up all of that crap by herself. Brittney is just an outstanding person.
Ok, I'm done. Time for beddy bye.
After about an hour the new owners of the Malone store showed up for a visit with the owners of the Oak St. store, and Brittney asked Chiy's wife, Lin, if they were friends. Lin rolled her eyes and shook her head. She doesn't talk much, but that gesture communicated everything she wanted to say. I guess those Malone store folk must be pretty obnoxious. I've talked to the assistant manager at the Malone store and she said that she didn't like the new owners; that they were disrupting how everything worked and were making things more difficult. This is how I expected it to be with Chiy when I started at 7-Eleven for the second time, but I really like Chiy a lot and am glad to know him and his family.
After Chiy and Lin and Brian left, Brittney had a problem with a customer who had asked her to set pump 2 for $10.00, but what the customer actually meant was pump 1. After the problem was called to her attention, Brittney set the new pump for $10.00. We were busy, so it was easy to forget that the pump 2 was still set, and what happened was this: A guy in a white van pulled up to pump 2 and pumped the gas. He was about to drive off when Brittney explained to me what was happening and asked me to go out there and do something. I ran out there and explained the situation to him. I didn't really know what to do about it, other than to flat out ask him for $10.00, so I asked him to come inside. He seemed affronted by the suggestion, but I'm pretty sure he knew that he had pumped free gas, so he came in without much of a fuss. When we were inside, Brittney and I explained the situation to him again and asked him if he understood, and his response was that he had used his card and pumped the gas normally. Brittney asked him how much he originally wanted, and the guy said five dollars. The question was, why did he keep pumping then? Why didn't he stop at five dollars if he thought that he was using his own card? Brittney asked him to pay five dollars, the amount he originally would have pumped, and that she would pay the other five. He said that all he had was a debit card, and since there was no way to really charge his card for gas that was already pumped, he said that it wasn't his problem. He started to leave. It was busy, and I didn't have time to do anything about it, so I told the guy that if he could live with it on his conscience, he could just take $10.00 worth of free gas that somebody else would have to pay for and leave. He smiled really big and walked out the door. I guess that was his answer. I felt really depressed and angry about that for about half an hour, but later I realized that I couldn't judge the guy because there was a time in my life when I would have thought the same way, with my internal dialogue going something like this - "The store made a mistake. So what if it's technically stealing. It's not my fault, I didn't come here to steal gas. It's not my responsibility. They have to pay for it, and I'm happy as a clam with my ill gotten gas." So Brittney paid for it, and when I get paid I'll give her five dollars. We decided not to tell Chiy about it to avoid stressing him out more than he already was, due to the events I'm about to describe.
Soon after that, we ran out of Mountain Dew, so I went into the back to change it. Well, there wasn't another Mountain Dew on the shelf, and the machine was going PSSSHHHT PSSSHHHT PSSSHHHT PSSSHHHT over and over again, that obnoxious indicator that one of the pumps is out of syrup. In desperation I started to unscrew a screw on the thing to see if it would close a valve or something, and the thing shot out like a bullet and broke in half. After that the PSSSHHHT PSSSHHHT PSSSHHHT became a constant HISSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS. Instant panic set in. I felt like I had just triggered the timer on an atom bomb and that it was up to me to defuse it. I spent about twenty minutes trying everything I could to stop the CO2 leak. I pressed my thumb against it. I pressed my palm against it. I pressed napkins against it. I tried to wedge a wrench with one end wrapped in plastic between the leak and the edge of the shelf. I tried to wedge a piece of plastic with a screw shoved in it into the hole. Nothing worked, and meanwhile CO2 was blowing out of this valve at full force. I knew that if this continued that eventually the CO2 tank would be completely empty, and I didn't even want to think about what it would cost to fill the dang thing. Chiy would expel bricks out of his posterior. Out of desperation I got up and started closing valves on the actual CO2 canister, which is a big silver tank about four feel tall. I experimented with several valves until I finally found one that did something. As I turned it the noise of the leak started to abate, and I watched as the CO2 pressure gauge slowly fell to zero. PHEW! I had defused the bomb. Denton was safe.
I called Chiy and he wasn't happy at all. After about 20 minutes of crazy anxiety talky yammering godzillaspeak about how much it would cost to fix and how much money the store would lose because we couldn't sell slurpees or fountain drinks, he finally calmed down a little. Eventually things were almost normal again, with Chiy telling me not to feel bad, that it was a learning experience. He called me twice after that, each time telling me not to feel bad, that it's ok, everything is ok, it's ok.
Oh, and by the way. Here comes the icing on the cake. While all of this was going on, Brittney was the essence of 'flat out good person'. She did everything she could to help me as I tried to plug a raging gas leak with the palm of my hand, all the while dealing with a line of customers that went back to the cooler. And, unbeknownst to me until after I'd stopped the leak, all during this time there was another ongoing crisis at the slurpee machine. A customer had poured a Wild Cherry Slurpee - how I hate Wild Cherry Slurpee - and of course the handle stuck as it is wont to do, and soon we had a lake of bubbly red half frozen crap to deal with on top of the CO2 leak. I didn't know anything about this until after I had stopped the leak and was feeling like a hero, only to walk back up front to see Brittney mopping up this red river of madness. She hadn't said a word about it the whole time I was back there bitching and moaning and panicking, and now there she was, shlopping up all of that crap by herself. Brittney is just an outstanding person.
Ok, I'm done. Time for beddy bye.
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sunday flub
Yesterday I read for the first time at the Sunday liturgy. I read the hours and the post-communion prayers. I did flub once though, while reading the hours - I can't remember the exact nature of the flub, but I'm pretty sure I used the word 'merciful' instead of a word that means the opposite of merciful. It went something like this... "God will not be merciful with us -" whoops! Was that a Freudian slip, or what? I think 'merciful' was supposed to be either 'angry' or 'wroth', or something like that. Who remembers? Anybody?
Anywho. Thanks brain, for stabbing me in the medulla oblongata. You're a real joker. Way to come through for me there. Probably got it in for me just like my sweat glands. And my tooth.
Anywho. Thanks brain, for stabbing me in the medulla oblongata. You're a real joker. Way to come through for me there. Probably got it in for me just like my sweat glands. And my tooth.
The wind
I know this is going to sound retarded, because it is, but MAN does the wind ever get on my nerves. I mean, here I am, out walking and trying to enjoy my book, and this wind just blows and blows all over me. It musses up and tangles my hair, it touches me all over and invades my personal space, it makes me cold when I sweat (I also have a strong dislikin' for my stupid sweat glands, always trying to cool me off when I'm freezing), it blows the pages of my book all over the place, and it doesn't even respond to impassioned shouts, pleading cries, or placating tones. It just keeps on blowing and blowing and blowing. I know there must be a lesson in this somewhere. I suspect that if I can ever come to terms with this irrational, emotional reaction I feel towards a simple force of nature, then life will become a lot simpler and less problem ridden for me. I might even graduate from Full Fledged Retard to Promising Simpleton.
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