Gonna hafta tell her tonight.

Almost applicable Franz Ferdinand song lyric. So the dark clouds passed over with no ill effect. I heard exactly what I needed to hear tonight, though I don't think she knew I was hearing what I was hearing. I found the words I was looking for in the way she held me, in the way she ran her fingers through my hair, in the way she kissed me. She was happy. Happier than I had seen her in several weeks. Which, of course, made me happy. Like I told her there all nuzzled into her neck on the couch, "There's the girl I missed." I've got to work on that, though. The whole needing thing. But there's a happy middle in there somewhere, and I think we can find it. Why is it that hearing her say she's sorry means so much to me? Hear it and know she means it. Not so strange, really. A past of never hearing it for worse offenses.

So at least the important stuff has been resolved, and happily so. Now if only finances would sort themselves out. Because I don't really care about money. I like to be able to get things, give things. And I understand the concept of bills. But financial success has never been a concern of mine. I'm not philosophically opposed to money or anything. I believe in capitalism. But the pursuit of money has to be your main task in order to be really successful in the pursuit of money. There are more important things in this world. But prophecy doesn't pay the bills. Preaching might. But in order to make a living doing that, I'd have to tie myself to one place or congregation or organization. My messages aren't for the people found there, but for those not found in the churches and synagogues. But it's ok. Best Buy is a really cool job. Car Stereo is, really, the best department in our store. And improving (ya damn right it is). But the store makes more money off of Frank's 2000' TV than it does off of any CD-player, speaker, service plan, amp, or anything else. Almost combined, really. But that's ok. I will earn my pay, and then some. And then I'll earn my increased wage(s). I'm not obssessed with the pursuit of money but I understand the concept of bills and, let's face it, I like my toys. Can't give a speech for toys. Gotta use the currency of the land.

In case you were wondering, this is what I do when it's near 3AM and I can't sleep. That and read. Yay The Hobbit! Also, I'm going to try to institute a One Quote Per Entry deal. Starting with this entry, I'm going to put some geeky, or not so geeky, quote at the end of the blog. Just for fun.

your weapons, you will not need them

Ugh.

March is looking to suck. I blame this warm unsnowy winter. It wouldn't suck as much if I hadn't had to deal with pricks at K-Mart. Because then I would have had extra funds when the tax returns came in, thus leaving me financially comfortable. But instead I'm about a month between paychecks. Which is hurting. A lot. I was looking to have financial stability and improvement by the end of March. Not gonna happen now. Not at all. Damnit.

Not to mention there's the cloud hanging over my head. And I know what it is, and why it exists. And it makes my heart heavy. And Chris is going to immediately question me about it. But the person who really needs to question it won't even notice this. Things were looking so good. What happened?

Has anybody seen my baby?

Has anybody seen her around?

So the job is cool. I lucked out in being put in car stereo sales. All the other departments are behind on sales goals and such, whereas car stereo is ahead. So less pressure on me, which is always nice. And I'm doing good on the selling. Because mostly everyone coming into the section is looking to buy anyway. But I'm not on commission. Which means I don't have to pressure sell just so I can pay the bills, which is also cool. So that's good.

On the other hand, I must once again intone my whining upon you. Because I miss my Holly. I got to see her for a little while Tuesday, but I've only talked to her once, Thursday, since then, and even then only briefly. Because she's been sick all week. She's started a new Live Journal. Her old one is listed as Holly's Old Journal there in the links, whereas her new one is Holly's Journal. And stuff.

My neck hurts.

Always right, and grim for it.

It's an interesting thing, always being right. Being able to look at someone and pluck something up from inside them they keep hidden from everyone. Scary, really, is more like it. Some things shouldn't be found out, at least not by me. Some things I just don't want to know. But I look at the person and there it is, uninvited, but there just the same. And if I'm right about so much else, does that make me right about the other things? The things that I keep buried and don't think about. If I am, should I behave any differently? Somehow I doubt I will. I've been as right as I have been, and haven't looked back yet. I saw the risk. But I didn't care then. Don't care now. It's still worth the risk. Everything is. And if there wasn't any risk involved, it wouldn't be worth it anway.

Does take a lot of the surprise out of life, though. I miss that.

Warm fuzzies.

I am a very content man right now. A warm peaceful happiness permeates my being, in spite of the cold rain spritzing outside. Why, you ask? Short answer: My girlfriend is sick.

"What kind of sick, twisted man is happy because his girlfriend is sick, suffering through illness?"

Now, now, before we get our panties in a twist, that was the short answer. I am fulfilled when I can take care of someone, be it nurturing or protecting or providing. I am happy because I was able to make my sick girlfriend feel better with hot food and a warm, comfy me to cuddle up against while we watched "The Nightmare* Before Christmas." And I'm also happy because I got to cuddle up with my girlfriend of the soft skin and pleasantly scented hair. Which is where my nose was buried for most of the evening. So that's why I'm happy. Because I made my girl feel better, and by being there for her to cuddle up against no less. Warm fuzzies for everyone! Huzzah!

EDIT: *originally "The Nightmate Before Christmas." Bad porn title, or Fruedian slip? Or maybe I can't type sometimes. Eesh.

Dusting off the forgotten

It's a very strange time for me in many ways. I find myself with an unusual amount of free time. Part of this lies in a rather dwindling set of local friends. Most of the time it's just me and Chris. Which is pretty cool. The older brother I never had. But I had, through choice or circumstance, become very much a social creature. I actually had(have?) a desire to be around people, or at the very least a person or two that I am close to, just about all the time. A younger (or is it older?) version of myself would have scoffed at this notion. Wanting to be around people? How very not anti-social. But that kid was an angsty, angry teenager. And before that he was an outcast preteen. Let's trace the stages, shall we? Up to 2nd grade I was about a perfect a kid as you could want. Strong, tall, brilliant, got along with everyone. But the genetic curse of my forebears kicked in during 2nd grade. In two ways. First, as the NC standard IQ test. Provided to help identify children with exceptional needs, on both ends of the spectrum. I, of course, am of the gifted end. We have something in my old school system called A.G. which stands for Academically Gifted. It was a special program within the regular curriculum that catered to our need for more challenging work. And I liked it. I hadn't, yet, started to become bored with easy work, as my teachers were pretty good about finding stuff for me to do when I finished up my classwork. But then my eyes started to get a little bad. It would have never been noticed if not for the Little League. I was always squinting when at bat. Part of this was the sun constantly being in my eyes, but my eyes were losing strength. So now I was really smart and wore glasses. Begin standard stereotype teasing now. But it wasn't too bad, as I had really cool friends and family. Then on to 5th grade. That's the first shift. No longer did my teachers find me work to do when I was done. In fact a substitute once got mad at me for doing something else when I was supposed to be doing typical substitute busy work. Even though I was done. Took away my coloring book. The meanie. Anyway, since I was no longer being so aptly supervised, ADD started to kick in. It's likely that I had been exhibitting signs of ADD much earlier, but I was always kept busy. So I started to slip out of the mainstream. It didn't help that I was becoming a little chubby. Too many books, video games and junk food, not enough exercise. Which wasn't entirely true. I had the preteen baby fat. I was fairly lean in my much younger days. Downright skinny, really. But the chubby, the love of books and solitude, the intelligence, it drove a bit of a wedge between me and my peers. Middle school didn't help in the slightest. 5th-7th saw a lot of me being picked on. A lot. Because I was chubby, because I liked books, because I took medication, because to me deoderant was deoderant, even if it had a pink case. Sure was Sure. It hadn't occured to me that there was anything wrong with it until someone grabbed my bag and rummaged through it. Then I was dubbed "girly deodorant boy." By, of course, the taller and more built slow mutant who lived down the way. Stirred the bitterness, but I had my books, my games, my friends. And then, miracle! During the summer between 7th and 8th grade, I grew 6 inches. and A further 3 through the course of the school year. In three months, three months, I grew 6 inches, going from 5'3" to 5'9" and gained 10 pounds. And dropped 4 inches off my waist. I was wearing a 28. And suddenly, I was a little more acceptable to my peers. Still an object of taunt by those uncreative enough to find new things to torture. But, of course, things didn't stay pleasant. My dad left the summer of my 13th year. I still don't know what all happened, but I guess he had finally just had enough of my mom. Which I can understand. The man was patient for 17 years. But that left some psychological scar tissue. Instant angsty, nonsocial, hate-the-world teen. I was a different breed, though. I knew what was going on in my head. I couldn't control the hormones, or the wild and unpredictable moodiness, but I could understand why it was happening. I did alright keeping things under control. Not great, mind you. I was, what, 15? Who has any control at 15? Started to get that rebelliousness. I was given chances and opportunities to delve into teen peer pressure, but just didn't care too. My best friend through most of my early teen years was Jayson Barber. His parents were the prototypical "cool" parents any teen could want. But they had raised Jayson to be responsibile and independent. So I'd go over there, we'd go cruise or whatever. Sometimes he threw parties, popular parties to anyone, because of the mostly unsupervised nature of things. I could have tried weed or drank beer or engaged in many a single girl for an evening, but didn't. Even when I had thrown away my faith for the whispered promises of heresy, I still held the values. It wasn't until I was 17 that I shifted back towards something more pleasant. It was January of 1999. I was driving my brother and my cousin. It was dark, I had been driving all of six months, foggy, and just a bad intersection. I thought it was clear, but I was, very much, mistaken. I got t-boned by an '84 Buick going ever so slightly over the speed limit. In their defense, I pulled out right in front of them. Though all I remember is hitting the gas, seeing headlights off in the dark distance, and then I was asleep. I remember feeling like I was dreaming. What a crappy dream. And what is that noise? It was the engine of the car whining in high rev, as my foot was still on the pedal. Why am I in my car? Shouldn't I be in bed? Then the pain. Horribly twisted, my right arm screamed at me to wake up, take my foot off the gas and turn the car off. Remember when I said I was t-boned? Yeah I meant me personally, not the car. See, I drove a 1984 Honda Accord. A not large at all car. I lost about 18 inches of side space when the center of the Buick's grill collided with the t-bar between the driver door and the passenger door. And that line is right where my toros lined up in that car, due to my long, non-short-asian legs. So the car hit me. And my death-grip ripped the radius and ulna in twain just below the wrist. I had never been knocked unconscious or passed out before then. It's an...interesting thing to recount. But I had stared death in the face. It put me in darkness. And then, about a month later, something very strange happened. Something unexpected. A girl, I knew her only by sight from the French class we were both in, just ups and asks to sign my cast. Who was I to argue with a cute girl? Well, the signature spread from just her name to most of the space on my cast over the course of about 5 afternoons after school. We were both involved in the school's Broadway Revue, and the acting rehearsals were after school. Thus began one of my most cherished, and most sorely missed, friendships. We became very close so very swiftly. We were alike in many things. We could say something strange, and the other would know exactly what we meant, where others would misunderstand. I grew to love her in a way I have loved no other. But you never love one like you love the first. But, as is the way of things, it was never returned, not in the way I wanted. She saw me as a brother, a friend, and, no matter how close and dear, as nothing more. Which, maybe, in the end, was for the best. It kept what was between us pure, unhindered. And through her I met many wonderful girls. And thusly I spent my senior year surrounded by these amazing girls. I was a lucky guy in many respects. Optmism began to creep out from it's hardened towers. I became, despite my best efforts, a sort of leader in the halcyon golden age of the theater program at East Rowan High School. A rise and fall in one short school year. I was thrust into leading male when one play we tried to do flopped when the current leading male refused to work for his role. Sudden play change and bam! I'm the lead in a romantic comedy. What the heck. And I was paired with a girl I had known since first grade. Who had gone from a slightly lanky ugly duckling into a very amazing swan. And, of course, I had a crush on her. But we pulled it off. We all had ambition, drive. People looked up to me. I tried to put the best I had forward for them. Graduated, went off the school to be an engineer, full of promise and hope. Then I dated Anglee. Sucked in by a long, slow, determined spell. We dated very briefly during my senior year. Two months, as I recall. I dumped her. There's no real way to put it other than that. It wasn't nice, but I did it. She had begun to fall in love with me. And I was in no way ready for that. I had been told she liked me and figured, what the heck? But I let her go. Because my heart desired only Billie Feather at the time. But slowly she worked her way in until I relented to the assault. We dated for over a year. A year of neglect, abuse, infidelity, blame. But never once did I falter in what I saw as my duties to her. I was patient, I was kind, I was understanding, forgiving. I was everything her parents, and her father especially, were not. But in the end, it wasn't enough. She dumped me for a friend of mine. Had been planning it behind my back with him for months. Down the spiral again. And now I've clawed my way out of that heaping pile of wreck. I managed it around June of last year, when I first came to Greensboro for the Van Halen concert, the kick off of their new world tour. Social, social, social! But here in the last few months, I've been slowing working to a balance. Like diggin through the closet and finding that jacket you thought was just kick-ass years ago, but had out-grown in one way or another. Only now I'm a lot slimmer than I was. And it fits like a charm. Jacket of Peaceful Solitude. I'm chilling by myself, but I'm not feeling bad about it. I used to fight for the very thing I have now. I have music, I have writing.

And what the hell. Where the heck did all that come from? Riding a wave of memory after finding an old photo album. Oh well. There it is. Dusted off the old jacket. Fits like a dream. Better than when I first got it, really.

Sushi!

So Holly and I went out to Wasabi on Market St. tonight. First time I've ever had sushi. It's pretty good stuff. Green tea for drink, miso soup. I had a salmon roll and a spicy salmon roll, and Holly had two tempura shrimp rolls and a spider roll. But she hadn't eaten at all until dinner and I insisted she eat until she was full. Poor girl hadn't slept for about 60 hours until I sent her to bed after we got back. Of course, that's her procrastination at work. But the time we spent was pleasant, if short.

Kinda tired myself, though. Looking forward to starting orientation Saturday. My dad's thinking of coming out here Saturday, too, so maybe a bunch of us head out to dinner.

First Time for Everything

Well. This is a first for me. A pleasant St. Valentine's Day. In my 22 years on this planet, I have been single for all but two of these days. Of those two Valentine's Days, only this one has had me in a good mood. The other was three years ago, and Anglee and I spent that entire evening cheering up her friend Natalie whose boyfriend just dumped her. Boy. That was exciting. This year is a little different. I got to see Holly this weekend, which had its ups and downs, but there were significant revelations and things are better for it, and we're going out tomorrow night. Ideally, we'd be doing something today, but things are what they are. Still gave her a little something, so really it will have been V-Day for three of the the five days between Saturday and Tuesday.

One of the reasons I'm ok with all of this, is because I have a cognisant awareness of the basis for this holiday. I know the story of St. Valentine, for example. This whole mess goes back to correspondance he had with, I believe, his jailer's daughter? Anyway, it is said that he and a woman had been writing love letters while he was in prison for whatever. And then three miracles and a canonisation later, and he's a saint. Then, it seems, some well educated, and most likely Catholic in origin, person saw this as being marketable. A day for love and cards and roses and candy and jewelry. Marketing genius, really. Some of my friends had, in an effort to cheer me from my gloom that I usually wear on this day, mentioned that this day is supposed to be about everyone you love, family, friends, not just the girl I wanted to be with. And while that might be the original intent, I am still inundated with displays of happy coupledom that make me ill from 1) disgust at the ability of humanity to be duped, and 2) disgust at the overwhelming display of happy lovers based in jealousy.

But all of that is in the past. I dropped a rose off on Holly's doorstep for her to find, which she did, as my small gesture of rememberance of the day. And, of course, I have told her multiple times that I love her. And now I'm looking at an evening filled with Lord of the Rings: The Third Age. Which is a pretty cool game, by the by.

sorry it had to be you this year, bro

LiveJournal Quiz.

LJ Friends Meme by

• You must tell 3 people about this game.
• Holly is the one that you love.
• Heather is one you like but can't work out.
• You care most about Chris.
• John is the one who knows you very well.
• Lenore is your lucky star.
• For the Longest Time is the song that matches with Holly.
• When the Levy Breaks is the song for Heather.
• Dance of Curse is the song that tells you most about YOUR mind.
• and Hero of the Day is the song telling you how you feel about life
Take this quiz


Admittedly, this rings true, disturbingly so, on all counts. Though it should be noted that the song that tells the most about my mind is a mostly insturmental piece with operatic chanting, all in minor keys, very tense and battly. It's from Escaflowne. And Hero of the Day. Yeah, it's all freakishly close.

Employment! Cooking! Glee!l

I have a job, have a job, have job once again! I went in for my interview today. I was there in khaki cargos and others were there in suits and ties. Suits and ties! For retail! What the heck? Didn't anyone tell them to dress for the job? If you're going in for an entry position in a retail store that has their employees in polos, nice pants and a polo is all you need. Save the suits for the accounting jobs. Anyway, as soon as my initial interview was over, the guy in charge came by, asked some questions, and told me straight up, "We're going to offer you a job. We're just not sure exactly where we can put you just yet. So I'll call you Saturday or Monday with something definite." And then as Chris and I are pulling out to do some shopping, I get a call to come in to talk to yet someone else. Seems it's the supervisor for the car audio department. He says I'm working there. So I have a job! Yay! Orientation starts next Saturday, so I have this week to goof off during, though I'll likely be painting Warhammer stuff, and maybe running some intro games for Chris and Doug. Which will be cool. So very exciting.

And I also get to cook for Holly tomorrow, which is thrilling for me. I put the chicken in my marinade of Italian dressing with aged romano cheese and white wine. And I have a feeling I won't be cooking it for at least another 24 hours, if not longer. So that chicken will be right tender and juicy and tasty. Though that does remind me. I need to get some decorative items for the dinner. But I have the rest of today and most of tomorrow. So very excited. Glee!

UPDATE: Holly, it seems, has a small gallery of some artwork on Elfwood. Never knew she drew. Seems she's not too bad at all. Go see for yourself here. Of course, I'm not biased in my praise of her art at all. No. Never. Nope. :D

Disclaimer

This blog is mainly vent space, as I've said before. Which means it has a tendency to wax melodramatic. It's because of my romantic nature. I'm also a writer of sorts. So things tend to get exaggerated. But things are ok right now. Don't know exactly what switch got flipped where, but I feel ok about things. All things. Looking forward to Saturday, though. And Sunday, too. Sparky's going to be running some D&D on Sundays. So yay that.

Roller Coaster

Well. That didn't take long. Up and down and up and down and up and down. All day. This is going to become a problem. I don't want it to become a problem. I don't like problems. Problems aren't happy. This shouldn't be like this.

New poem.

Oh happy day!

Friday of this week is shaping up to be a most excellent day. Not only is my tax return due to be deposited into my account on Friday, but I also have a job interview! Best Buy just called a few moments ago, and set up the interview. I'm hoping it's a computer technician spot, but just being in computers would be fine enough. Oh joy, oh happiness.

Meanwhile, if I could get my moods to be one thing for a period of more than 24 hours, that'd be super.

Just kidding!

Well, I thought I was going to bed, but it appears my brain has other ideas. So one glass of wine for me while I type out this bit of nonsense. Apparently, Sangria is a right tasty wine. Or so my mouth says. Anyway. At this most very recent moment, I have been overcome by a large feeling of not right. Things just aren't right. It's most likely the hour. But my mind has been wandering. A wandering mind is normally of no consequence, but where the mind was wandering today...It made me feel guilty. Makes me feel guilty.

I was supposed to be able to see Holly today, but she has a paper due tomorrow that she had to work on. I would like to hope that I can see her tomorrow, but on Wednesdays she's being going to see some band or another with Andy, heretofore known as He Who Was Not Chosen. I trust Holly. I have no course but to trust Holly. If I cannot trust her, then I cave in to my past. This is not my past, this is my now. I empathize with Andy. Because I have been He Who Was Not Chosen. But I do not trust Andy. Because I have been He Who Was Not Chosen. And Andy is the person making it difficult for me to get involved in the things Holly does. Because Andy is involved in all of them. And my presence would cause discomfort. Rah. Have I ranted about that already? I don't remember.

Then there's the job hunt. How I hate the job hunt. Lots of effort for no results then a flash of luck that circumvents effort. Every time. Every job I've had was like that. Food Lion, Tony got me the job. Games Workshop, talked to a manager, filled out an application as a formality while I filled out my w2's. Transportation Museum, called the place and asked, and they had me come in and fill out the paper work. CFA, filled out an application, and I was called the next morning. Sam's Effing Car Wash, again, Tony. Hopefully, the tax returns will come soon.

I should feel a lot better than I do right now. But things have become so very weird. Has it run it's course already?

Too warm! And other complaints.

It is far, far too warm for February. While 68 would normally be a fairly comfortable temperature for me, that would be because I was wearing shorts at the time. My body is set to Winter. WHERE IS MY SNOW?!?!

Also, I have a disliking of retail hiring practices. I'm a team player. I have no major beef with corporate America. I'm a Republican and a firm believer in capitalism. I'll play ball. But I go in to check up on an application I put in at Best Buy (which I had to do online, which I have ranted about before) and was brushed off. "We'll be hiring soon. If there's a position you're qualified for, we'll call you." In other words: "We let the software think for us. Because we don't have to think, I am bothered and annoyed by your face to face inquiry. Hopefully the machines will pick the malleable and cheap, and not a driven free thinker like you. All hail the Machine God!" Ok, so there was a little bit of embellishment there, but she was annoyed to have to talk to me. Maybe it was because I "interrupted" a conversation she was having with someone else because I was patiently standing there waiting for her to finish. Rah. Anyone need someone who can build computers, run a register, give excellent customer service, type 8000 wpm, perform light labor, insure inventory control and quality assurance, handle shipping and receiving, and stocking? I'm also familiar with Linux and Unix, Microsoft Office (including Excel), and I can use most fast food equipment. I've got training in managerial duties, such as taking deposits, opening and closing duties, counting down registers, working in a safe, making schedules and assignment sheets, and managing personal to insure quality service. Anyone?

Space Marines! Kickin' da arse!

So I got my hands on the new Space Marines Codex, that's an army rulebook for a game, Lenore. And now the Smurf Marines are even Smurfier! It's awesome. Now my Dark Angels shall be a truly powerful force of death on the tabletop! BURNINATE!

Dilemmination

So is it better to keep something to yourself, turning negativity inward, and thus stopping the spread, or let it out, even though you put something great at risk? I don't want to be mad, but I think I am. Annoyed, frustrated, certainly. I don't like feeling this way. Brings up bad comparisons to previous unpleasantries. Which causes me to ask myself, am I really upset, or is it just an association with a large body of bad memories. Is it really how I feel or am I recalling how I felt in the past? This feeling of unimportance is still lingered, this feeling of being unwanted, or taken for granted. And the sad part is, it feels familiar. I don't believe that I'm not wanted. But the feeling surfaces nonetheless. And it is frustrating and not right to feel as though you're not very high on someone's priority list, a someone who should have me pretty high up on the list. But this could stem from the trend this past week for Holly to either having a great time or being with me, and not both at the same time. Or maybe I'm just melancholy. Sunday trend, it seems. Watch, tomorrow it won't matter, I'll feel better. Is this how it's going to be, or is it going to get better? And why is it that the only future I can't get a read on is my own?

EDIT: Like an idiot, I seem to have answered my own dilemma in, perhaps, not the most delicate way possible. Unlike a normal journal one would keep, other people read this. Regularly. But, I have commited to saying the things I have said already, and I am not one who easily turns back on his decisions. Which, perhaps I should stress. Especially to Holly, specifically, just now in this blurb. I have made my decision to accept you and your love when others thought perhaps I shouldn't, or not as soon or as readily as I did. Others thought maybe I should make you earn back my trust, but I made my decision to trust you already. A lot I have done in my life many advised against doing. But I don't regret my decisions. I could have remained hurt about what happened. I could have reacted in a completely different way when you came to me, walls stripped down, laid bare and afraid before me. Afraid but willing to take a chance. For me. And that's why we're together right now. So this is really two blogs, isn't it? So I was a little mad. But thanks to Bill Engvall being a funny guy, laughter has improved my mood.

In the grim future...

...there is only WAR!

So I've gotten Chris and Doug infected with the Warhammer bug! Chris, rightly, believes that he can use Imperial Guard soldiers to display squad tactics. And Doug is interested in Necron and/or Chaos Space Marines. So I will finally have someone to field my Dark Angels against. Huzzah!

*stab*

How I loathe insomnia. Check the time stamp down there. Yeah. Almost six in the AM. I've been trying to sleep for four hours. Can't get there. It doesn't help that if I don't find more work (again) next week I'm going to find myself in some serious financial poo. I feel like I can find something, but I'd really like something that isn't going to cause me misery. I suppose that's too much to ask, though, isn't it? I seem to have used up all my luck for the year already in just having things being so great with Holly. Figures. I blame this whole mess on a pissant bureaucrat lording over his tiny scrap of power in Receiving. He doesn't like me, so he denied transferring me out of his department into third shift data entry. Why? Because he's a spiteful dumbass. I took those days off because the job in receiving was making me physically ill. Coughing fits and discolored phlegm every 15-20 minutes is a sign that you are unhealthy. And then he got on my case for sitting down. For 15 seconds. While I was waiting on people to get the heck out of the way so I could do what I was supposed to do. Which was last minute busy work anyway. Because it was 11:30PM on a Friday and the trucks were all but done. I hate people. But yeah. Employment limbo, once again. I suppose I could get a job at a Chick-fil-A here in Greensboro. I've got the experience and a good reference from my last CFA boss. But there's that whole "not miserable at the job" factor I'm looking for. That and I'd be asking for at the very least $8/hr. Because that's what I'd be making with the dollar an hour's worth of raises I got at CFA in Salisbury. All of this mess is the result of me trying to improve my credit. I had a job that made okay money, so I increase the payment amounts on my student loan from UNCC. I get new credit card, and do very well with responsible usage to try and improve the credit. Live off the card a bit, pay it off with the paychecks. A reasonanble plan, or so I thought. But no. No-no. Can't have me running about improving my finances or my lot in life. Heaven's no. So let's take that job away, shall we? Yes, that's about perfect. All because I didn't take the job seriously. God forbid someone should invent ways to make their job not suck so much. And just because I didn't take the job seriously, it doesn't mean that I didn't take the work seriously. Because that I did do. Things needed to be accurate, and I made them accurate. Maybe I can go over Milton's head. Who knows. This is something for Monday. Rah. All-nighter. Don't have an desire to pull one. Damnit, why can't I sleep?

finger in the hair, sleep away, sleep away