I'm cleaning out my closets. It's a clearance sale and EVERYTHING MUST GO!!!
My "story" closet that is. There have been things over the past few years that I've been blogging that I would've loved to write about at the time. Yet, because of not wanting to berak confidentiality at a past job, or because I was worried a feeling or two might get hurt. The people involved are either A) no longer involved 2) no longer under unwritten rules about talking about their job on the internet III) no longer people I care about what they think.
I'm not planning on burning any bridges or stepping on any toes. I think the statute of limitations has expired on some of my tales and they are free to roam the pastures of the internet.
So in the spirit of entertaining stories...
I used to work at The Girls & Boys Town National Hotline. (Yeah... I know there is some subtle irony about a gay man working at a strict Catholic organization. It's not lost on me. That's a story for another time.) Perhaps, you've heard of the group home? We got calls ranging from people on the brink of committing suicide to parents having problems with their kids to senior citizens who were just lonely and needed someone to talk to at 4am. It may sound depressing, but it was actually the best job I ever had.
I loved the immediate response and reaction of either people able to help someone or get them help. Working at a crisis hotline, people can come in with what we nicknamed "Superman Sydrome". They wanted to save the world. When the reality of the type of calls that they would be answering sat in, they would become frustrated.
You (hopefully) learn early that not everyone wants to be helped. Some people prefer to just complain about their problems for the attention. So people don't realize they needed help. Those were the ones that left the biggest impression on me.
There were three main shifts. Day. Evening. Overnight. Each with their own type of calls. Daytime calls were parents calling for information about how to enroll their child in G&BT. Evening calls were teenagers calling with various issues, suicides, any number of issues. This was not the busiest time, but certainly the most variety of calls came in during this time. I worked overnight. This was when the wackiest calls would come in. There was a variety of calls, but of a complete different nature. Suicides. Seriously mental ill. Lonely senior citizens. Perverts. Pranksters.
I took to the phones right away after training. I picked up on how to talk to people and get to the heart of the matter pretty quickly. My inability to maintain a casual small talk conversation in real life worked well for phone counseling where you had to cut to the chase.
There was always the pressure of when you'd get your first suicidal caller and how you handle it. The first person who says they've taken pills. The first person who says they want to jump of something. The first person who 'says'... anything is so much less pressure than the first person who has 'done' something.
"I've cut my wrists." "I've taken pills." "I've got a gun."
Oddly enough, the suicide calls were much easier to handle than a typical parenting call. With a suicide call there is a protocol to follow. People to contact for just such an emergency. Everyone knows there role. With a parent calling about their child, the issue may be broad and the solution elusive... if there even is one.
It wasn't my first suicidal caller, but it was the one I would remember the most. I had only been working at the hotline about 6 months at this point. "John", 25 years old, (obviously not his real name) had called at a little after two in the morning. He was upset because he was certain that he had fucked up his life beyond hope. Drugs. Alcohol. Possible jail time. He said he had a gun, and he wanted to use it on himself.
Guns always ramped up the seriousness of a call, for reason that I don't think really need to explained in much detail.
John had called with thoughts of suicide. He was semi-religious. Or just religious enough to be able to quote scripture. Not being religious myself, I found it hard to keep up such a topic. John wanted someone who could sympathize with his issues. (Who doesn't?) He wanted someone to make all his problems go away. While it wasn't going to happen overnight, the conversation took on two facets. Explain how he could make things better, and to sustain the call. Keep him talking 'til help arrived.
My supervising counselor was alerted to the situation and began monitoring my needs on the call in order to send help. Location. Demographics of the caller. Method of harm. Passing any information she could to the proper authorities.
John and I continued to talk. Talking to him about anything and everything. Trying to keep him focused on the call, but also keep his focus off the gun he had. This went on for the first hour with moderate sucess. The police were having trouble locating him. Just my luck.
It's always the 'serious' calls that the person is calling from some podunk in the middle of nowhere, that the sherrif has to be woke from a sound sleep to go investigate on the other side of the county. That sounds harsh, but it's just Murphy's Law playing out to it's fullest.
It turns out the identifying information that John was giving was false. Which is understandable. It happened quite often and really... I can't blame the callers for not being forth right with where they lived and real names and such things.
Hour #2 was spent trying to really figure out where he was. The subtle approach wasn't working. The direct approach was needed. "Where do you live, John. I want to send you some help."
"Don't send any f*&%ing cops to my house. I'll shoot them as them come in my door." Which then lead to the SWAT team being called in and Hour #3 of my call with John. This hour was devoted to keeping him calm that the police only wanted to help him. It was probably the most difficult period. Trying to keep an already paranoid suicidal caller on the line when the idea of police had been suggested really involved some pleading on my part.
We talked about everything. I'm sure I repeated my questions a few times. I know I heard about his ex-girlfriend a few times. I heard about his dishonorable discharge a couple times as well.
During Hour #4 (yes... four hours talking to the same caller. When the typical call lasted maybe an hour if it was serious.) there was a lot of pleading on my part to my supervisor. "Where are the police?"
Because of the nature of the call and John's statements about shooting anyone who came in. They had surrounded his apartment building, barracaded off the block, and had a SWAT team standing by. They weren't about to just barge on in.
There was a knock at his door that I could hear. "Thank God, the police are there," I thought. John quickly said he had to go and hung up the phone.
End of story? I wish... The police had suggested I call him back and continue to keep him on the line while they... I don't know what they were hoping woud happen at this point. I managed to get ahold of him (now it's a little before 6 in the morning) and he said it was his neighbor at the door to ask if he knew why the apartment building was surrounded by cops.
As I fessed up and explained the situation and what we had done to try and make sure he was safe and didn't harm himself or anyone else... he hung up. Can you blame him?
I was spent. I took a few moments to do the most mundane things. Go to the bathroom. Get a drink of water. Have a donut. Then I sat down to write my call report.
The police had decided to move in shortly there after he hung up with me. Later, as I was typing up my report the police had called back to inform us that not only was he claiming to have never called the hotline. He was never in the military. There was no ex-girlfriend. The searched the apartment thoroughly and never found a gun of any kind. John had been drinking, a lot, from the various recently emptied containers scattered about. He was not wanted by the police for any crime they were aware of. The majority of what he had told me was false.
Say you want to kill yourself? I know what to do. Lie to me about it for four hours while I try to help you? I lose it.
I finished my report, made my way to an empty conference room down the hall, and lost it... I cried out of frustration. Out of feeling deceived. Out of spending myself emotionally and knowing it was all for nothing.
Remember that Superman Syndrome I mentioned? I just found out that I coudn't fly. I didn't have heat vision. I couldn't run faster than a VW Beetle with transmission problems, let alone a bullet.
I turned a corner at that point. How much of myself could I give? How much of myself *should* I give? Looking back on the call later, I could see where I could have gotten a better grip on where the conversation went. Not felt so out of control. Not felt like I had no ability to help. My skin thickened a little bit that morning. I still cared about the people that were calling with honest-to-goodness issues. Even those who called in and were faking it... I still cared about. But they had different issues.
That call was atypical for the type of calls I got, but not for the type of calls that were recieved by the hotline in general.
There are plenty of people out there that need help. Luckily there are plenty of people willing to help, if you let them. Honesty. Straight-forwardness. Courage to look an issue in the 'eyes' and say you won't let it overcome you. Inner strength to ask for help.
I miss that job.
I posted this @ 8/30/2006 12:51:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
8/29/2006
NO BUSINESS LIKE SHOW BUSINESS
I feel that I must put in my two cents worth about the Emmy's from this last Sunday. Bullet-time, because that's how I roll.
-Conan O'Brien! He was hilarious! He didn't seem too tense about making fun of NBC, Tom Cruise, or even himself. His opening skit was great.
-The controversy about recreating the plane crash scene from Lost in the wake of the recent plane crash in Lexington. I can understand the controversy. I can see how it was in poor taste. Considering the timeliness and the fear-of-flying level that the world seems to be in right now. I get it. But from an industry stand point. I don't think they cared. It's easier to ask forgiveness than permission.
-Bob Newhart is a true comedic classic. His deadpanned expression of fear that his fate rested in the hands of a timely conclusion of the telecast was hilarious. When Jon Stewart took the stage for his Daily Show acceptance speech, but instead chose to pause and try and make the show go long. So dark. So funny. Poor Bob. He did make it out alive, with three minutes to spare. An Emmy record!
-Simon Cowell was booed. What the hell!? I don't care for him, but why boo the man on stage? Were they using kicked off Idol contestants as seat fillers? So anyway... Was it just me or did his "thank you" as a response to the booing see a tad bit sarcastic?
-Dick Clark... My God... What can I say? I have a special place inm yheart for Dick Clark. He was the one who really started the idea of music being a soundtrack of life. To be in the entertainment industry for so long and have so many projects that he was responsible for... Simply amazing. When he returned to the New Year's Eve telecast last... um... New Year's Eve (duh), it was hard for me to watch. I love him, but to see him in such a condition was heart breaking for me. But still I watched. Because the once immortal, finally showed signs of age. Dick was spirited enough to make light of his stroke. Saying that the producers asked him to walk out on stage to make a speech. But with time constraints he knew it would take too long. Dark. Yet, laughter through tears... Ah, welcome back old friend!
-Heidi Klum. I love you. Your show is In. Your comedy stylings being paired up with Jon Lithgow and Jeffrey Tambor is Out. Auf wiedersehen!
-Jon Steart and Stephen Colbert took the stage to present the award for best reality TV show. Colbert's opener calling the audience "godless sodomites" for watching a show that "rots the mind". Don't worry. He was just upset he lost to Barry Manilow. It's ok Stephen. There's always next year. You invented a buzz word. That's gotta count for something.
-Charlie's Angels reunion. Awkward much? As a tribute to Aaron Spelling they, along with Dynasty stars, Joan Collins, Steven Collins, and Heather Locklear, took the stage. Then let's cut to seat-shots of Tori and Mama Spelling who both looked equally moved in a overly-botoxed face sorta way. It's ok to cry, if you still have tear ducts.
-Yay for Bob Newhart performing one of the best non-spoken comedy routines of the evening. Did I already mention him? Well, shoot... Let's give it up for Dick Louden one more time. You win this round, Newhart. Next year? Marshall Wallace will be performing a strip tease that lasts exactly three hours. Afraid? I know I am.
I posted this @ 8/29/2006 11:43:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
8/27/2006
I'M ONLY HAPPY WHEN IT RAINS
I hate my apartment.
Too harsh? OK. Fine. I just hate the maintainance people who keep the apartments up and running. Because... they don't.
In the (barely) two months that I've lived in my place I've already had to call in three times for various problems with my apartment. The were nice at first, but the issues and the people responding to them have been more and more annoyed/annoying.
The first time the guy came out to repair my bathroom door handle and the garbage disposal. During my pre-move inspection I noticed that it made a horrible rattling sound. The door handle was easy to fix. The garbage disposal turned out to be a nail or screw of some sort. He didn't say it, but I distintcly got the feeling that he was looking at me as though I had something to do with it. It's understandable. I had packed boxes sitting all over the place. So the possibility existed that I might have accidently dropped something down the drain. Except, I'd noticed it before any box had been moved in. He was just now arriving to fix it.
The second call was a little more drastic. During one of Omaha's 100+ degree days, I was getting groceries. When I got home I found that my key didn't work in my deadbolt lock. Only my regular lock. So I was stuck with groceries in my car (some frozen items) for about an hour before I was able to get in. As I called the after hours number I was told that technically it wasn't a maintainance issue and that I would have to call a private locksmith.
Why get a locksmith? I didn't lock myself out. The apartment's locks didn't work. After convincing the answering service of my need, I got a call from the on-call maintainance worker and re-explained why it wasn't a locksmith issue. On top of it, he was unsure of who I even was. There was no way he could verify that I was the actual person who lived in the apartment. So technically he wasn't supposed to let me in. I told him I'd only lived in the apartment a couple of weeks. He asked if I had my lease with me to verify that I was the renter. Yes... IN the apartment that I'm locked out of. I told him who I worked with to sign a lease. He took that as a 'good enough' and came over to let me in.
Working on the lock I explained that I was leery to force the key and snap it off in the lock. But that's what he had to do. If the key didn't work and it broke off he'd have to cut the lock out of the door. If the lock needed to be replaced he'd still have to cut the lock out. So.. might as well give it a college try. After some serious muscle behind it he got it to open. I asked if the heat could have been part of the issue. He wasn't sure, but he'd look into it in the morning. I did get a new deadbolt, but only after reminding them about the issue.
And now the latest saga. I am watching TV when I hear a rattling noise and a gurgle coming from the kitchen. It sounded like a neighbor was using his/her garbage disposal and it was backing up into my sink. I call after hours maintainence. The answering service is polite and takes my message to page the worker on-call.
He calls and starts off on a bad note. "Where do you live?" I tell him my address. As I'm doing it he cuts me off when I get to the street name that he needed the street name because with just a building number he doesn't know where I am.
Ok... obviously... "You didn't give the answering service your street name."
"Yes I did."
"No you didn't. They didn't tell me."
Like it's my fucking fault they didn't tell him?! Shit...
"Ok. Look I'm sorry that happened, but here where I live."
"What's the problem with your disposal?"
I explain the issue to which he then corrects me.
"That can't happen. You live on the second floor. It wouldn't push water up. It would only go down."
"Well, I'm telling you, I can hear my neighbor running their disposal and at the same time water (and misc.) is backing up into my sinks."
We go a couple more rounds with the address, before returning to the issue of the disposal. He agrees to come take a look at it. In the mean time I do my best to keep the water down. If I run my disposal it seems to go down a little, but not really... because then the neighbor runs theirs. So it's just a see-saw battle of sinks.
When he shows up he is nice. But it's that kind of nice where you say it with a sickening sweet tone. I thank him for coming over to which I get a grunt. He drags in a shop-vac and a tool box. I explain to him what was happening and he says that he checked the neighbors disposal and her sink was doing the same thing. (So I wasn't lying? Amazing!)
He snakes my sink for what seems like a REALLY long time. I half-expected him to some how drill THROUGH something. Either that or he was in my kitchen making blended drinks. Because... it was a long damn time before he emerged from under the sink with word of what he'd found.
He said he did the best he could and it should work now, but that with these type of apartments you can't make any guarentees. Lucky me...
I posted this @ 8/27/2006 05:19:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
8/25/2006
YOU MADE ME RICE. I MADE YOU GRAVY.
I know I normally title posts with some song reference... Today's song is actually misheard lyrics from a Billy Joel tune. "You may be right. I may be crazy."
I have a love/hate relationship with pot luck lunches at work. Because let's be honest... free food. What bothers me is some of the questionable food that people bring.
Today's pot luck included half a bin of salad (from I don't know where). Several kinds of dippin's, french onion, spinach, cheese spread. Several bags of chips. Several kinds of cheese. A half-full crockpot of bbq meatballs. Some kind of baked bean. Overall the food was good. Other than the mystery salad...
Ok. Love? Free food. Hate? Mystery food.
Although, sometimes the mystery is better left unsolved. At my last job we frequently had pot lucks. Any occasion to bring in food was a reason to have a pot luck. There was one coworker, who I personally didn't get along with, who was not the nicest or cleanest person in the world.
One pot lucky day she brought in the ingredients to make queso dip. One can of Rotel. One hunk of Velveeta, already opened. I remind you she was not the cleanest person, so the previously opened Velveeta concerned me. As she sat in her cubible she had her crockpot sitting on the floor next to her. She would occasionally stir it's contents to achieve the proper consistency. As she slaved over her crockpot like a Shakespearean witch. Double! Double!
As her cauldron bubbled, she began to hack and cough over her concoction. Not covering her mouth... Then looking up to see my staring at her with my mouth agape.
"Oh, I hope I'm not catching a cold," she said.
"Me too... Otherwise I won't be having any of that." Not that I planned on having any of it anyway.
On another occasion she brought in a seven-layer mexican dip. As she removed the plastic wrap from the already made pan of dip. I noticed that there were at least two large scoops of dip missing.
"My kids didn't like it, so I thought I'd bring it in."
Wonderful...
"I need to replace the tomatoes on the dip though. Because, no one likes soggy tomatoes."
How old was this dip that the tomatoes needed replacing? I presumed it was last night, but I have a feeling it was older than 24 hours. I was leaving shortly, so I wasn't going to be having any dip. However I did warn a couple of my friends at work.
I get a call several hours later from a friend that was still at work. She reported that the maker of dip had already left, but called to say that she was feeling a little sick from the dip and that she hoped no one else was sick. Possibly from her dip...
So as you might imagine. I'm a little leery of pot lucks. Yet... free food.
Torn.
I posted this @ 8/25/2006 01:32:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
I'M A SURVIVOR
There is some talk in the entertainment world about Survivor. If you haven't heard (or don't care), this season of Survivor the contestants are divided into four teams be race. Twenty people are vying for a million dollar prize and 15 minutes of fame, 5 Hispanic/Latino, 5 African-America, 5 Asian, 5 Caucasian.
I can understand the controversy, but the first line of the link explains the entire issue. It's a ploy. Of course it's a ploy. With any TV show, controversy will build ratings. At least at first. After that, the show and the idea has to fly on it's own.
I admit that I have watched Survivor since the beginning. So I feel I can speak with some slight conviction about it. One of the main issues that has come up season after season is the lack of diversity in the contestants. The same could be said about a lot of shows on television of any kind. I know there are statistics out there, kept on the number of minority actors that star in shows. Any show really... Amazing Race, Jeopardy, Project Runaway. Even dramas and sitcoms have issues with diversity. Do you put a person on a show with the intention of pleasing a group, even though it's obvious that the person is the Token (fill in the blank). So Survivor decides to approach the issue head on and still gets flack for it. Understandable flack, but any publicity is 'good' publicity.
Part of the hook (and it has been since the beginning) is that they say Survivor is also a "social experiment". Which is bullshit. It's never been about a social experiment. But it is a nice sugar coating to assist in swallowing the show. An experiment where acting like an ass and showing some of the worst traits in humanity can get you money.
The show will go on as long as the ratings support it. Acknowledging the controversy only gives it more power.
I posted this @ 8/25/2006 08:55:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
I'M THE INTERNET. YOU'RE THE INTERNET
I... Don't know... But I can't watching it while drinking anything for fear of choking from laughter.
I posted this @ 8/25/2006 07:08:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
8/23/2006
WE'VE GOT IT ALL ON UHF
I don't have anything enlightening to say. So I'm going to post a few clips from You Tube that I find hilarious, entertaining, and soulful. In that order...
I posted this @ 8/23/2006 08:52:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
GIMME GIMME GIMME
These are are things that I want, but don't need. I think that are fun(ny).
Mmm... Braaaaainssss...
You lookin' at me?
YYYYYYYYY-M-C-A
Rooster? No.
I posted this @ 8/23/2006 08:19:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
8/22/2006
S-M-R-T
I posted this @ 8/22/2006 12:56:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
8/21/2006
YOU'RE MAKING ME DIZZY. MY HEAD IS SPINNING.
In an effort to get a jump on recruiting high school kids to sign up for the research study I work on... I just spent the majority of my day putting labels on 1700 envelopes. And that is just 1/5 of the number that I'll do before the school year gets in full swing.
I majored in Psychology for this?!
I posted this @ 8/21/2006 07:24:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
I'M NOT COMPLETELY INSANE, I'M MAYBE JUST A LITTLE BIT CRAZY
This weekend was rather low key for me. Which is both good and bad.
Here's a little insight into my personality. Is it possible to have the opposite of Seasonal Affective Disorder? You know how some people are depressed all the time living where it is gray and rarely sunny. Some people find winters to be unbearable because of the lack of color. I'm just the opposite in a way.
I love summer, but this is the time of year where I seem to always be in a funk. This is that time of year. It stretches between the Fourth Of July and my birthday in September. Save for a friends birthday in August, there never really is much going on. But here is the weird thing. Since the 4th, things have not been slow. Things have been actually quite busy. Between moving and traveling I've been pretty active. Which is good for me. Yet occasionally my weeknds seem to find me in an odd mood. Anxious in a way, like I have the energy to do something, but there is either 1) nothing to do, 2) nothing I can afford to do, or 3) nothing I feel like doing.
There is a weird lethargic mood that tries to blanket me this time of year. When I was fencing, the club would hold off practicing during this time. When I worked overnight it was easy to sleep in and do nothing with me day.
I wouldn't diagnose myself with depression, because I can snap myself out of this funk. Yet, the funk remains. I'm not the type that has to be entertained. I can easily veg out. Though, I prefer to have something to do. Yet now that I'm unpacked, things are put away, pictures are hung, clothes are sorted, I find myself with a bit of short-term amnesia. What did I do with my weekends before I moved? I wasn't gone all the time. Yet I wasn't at home in front of the TV or computer either.
Maybe all of this doesn't make any sense to anyone. Maybe it makes me sound slightly touched in the head. I hope neither are true.
I posted this @ 8/21/2006 09:15:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
8/17/2006
START ME UP
Well, I am back amongst the Internet-living. Along with it comes cable TV. Having to reprogram my DVR to record certain shows is annoying, but 'fun' in a weird way. It's like Christmas. I haven't been able to watch some of my shows that I enjoy for so long that seeing them all over again is like a brand new show.
The irony of all this cable/internet was the cable company wanted to send me everything I would need to install it myself. Which was cool. Save $75, which I'm all about at this point. Picking up the needed equipment was just as 'easy', but wasn't without it's inner city waiting in queue wackiness. It's fun being the only person to speak English. Otherwise I would have to wait another 5 days for the company to come out and flip a switch to allow my apartment cable.
Along the with the installation on Friday that I was doing myself, I thought that my cable/internet would also be working. No... They were still not coming out to my apartment for 5 days. Even after an innocent call to tech support where I tried to convince them I was schedule for a Friday connection, which didn't work, I had to wait. Ok fine... I've waited this long. I can wait a few more days. A few more long arduous days.... People! It's an addiction. A glorious, loving, welcome, addiction.
So Tuesday comes along and I come home to find the DVR box working. Yay! I fire up the computer... Bzzt... "Well, that's a funny sound for a monitor to make."
My monitor died. At the exact time that I was going to test the connection of the internet. DAGNABBIT!!! After a couple frustrated phone calls to people with monitors, my best friend Mike hooked me up with a monitor that is slightly smaller than my television. Which you can talk one of two ways. Either I have a small television or I'm using a big monitor. Trust me... I am using a big monitor.
Yay! Big monitor!
Yay! Cable TV (and the timely return of Project Runway)
Yay! Inkernet!
Yeah... it takes very little to amuse me. Consider yourself lucky.
I posted this @ 8/17/2006 06:04:00 PM.............Need a link?..........
8/15/2006
DON'T FEEL LIKE DANCIN'
It's been a while, but I am trying to get back into the swing of writing more again. Moving has been a pain in the ass. Both good and bad.
Brace yourself kittens! It's going to be a bumpy ride.
The apartment it looking more like a place to live and less like a storage garage at the local U-Store It. Let me catch you up to speed with the apartment. I love my apartment. I'm going to sandwich this with positives. I really do. I love the open, roomy feel of the room. The things that I thought were going to bother me, actually don't. The bedroom is big. I love the loft feel. The novelty of the stairs, I must admit I am getting over quickly. I find myself already lazily thinking, "what else do I need upstiars so I don't have to make another trip?" On the upside, it's good exercise. I am thinking about installing a fireman's pole from the bedroom to the living room. Multi-useful!
I've rearranged the furniture a couple of times to suit my liking. Of course when you don't have internet or cable, you have to entertain yourself sometimes.
Speaking of cable... that should be no longer an issue as of tonight. Yay! If I am not able to watch mind-numbing programming and surf to my leisure when I get home, heads will roll. It's been almost a month and I'm going slightly batty.
Speaking of batty... (don't you love these transitions?) I was having a serious One Flew Over The Cuckoo's Nest over the weekend.
Let me back up. I have diagnosed myself as mildly to severly dehydrated. When I moved it was sweaty, hot, and sweaty. Yeah, two sweaties. Then on vacation, it was more sweating. I come back to Omaha only to find more sweating. I need to learn to stop moving and vacation during the hottest month of the year.
I wasn't drinking water as much as I normally would be. If I was out I was having soda, since I didn't have any in my apartment for a while. Then at work, we were out and about, so I didn't have my steady supply of water like I normally would. So, water was not a part of my diet. Then on top of it... I was sick. With things... that would dehydrated a person.
So I had a crazy weekend, and I don't mean exciting. I'm getting used to the new sounds and shadows of that apartment. One of the biggest things that has startled me so far is "the man coming up the stairs."
The way my bed sits, I sleep facing the door and also heading right down the stores. I have a hat hanging on my bedpost. Which, when shadowed correctly and in the middle of sleep, can appear to be a figure climbing the stairs. I don't think my dehydration has helped such things. I'm pretty sure that my brain has shriveled a little. Me no thenk good.
Work is growing busier and busier. Which is both good an bad. I like being busy. I like having things to do, but I like it to be a steady busy. Not all or nothing. And the all or nothing has been a day to day thing. We may have a lot going on one day and then another day nothing. I know I have only one more year left. Yet, part of that is also that... I just only one more year left. I am constantly keeping one eye out for another job.
It's all about my Rock 'n' Roll lifestyle.
Along with work... our office is now being used for refridgeration. It is a pain to have to dress for winter inside, but live in summer outside. Is it too much to ask for an office environment that doesn't think it's the opposite season?
I've got my piano keyboards back out. I am REALLY out of practice. I need to find my music and re-learn some songs. I used to play a lot more and I really want to get back into it.
That's it for now. A good rambling post for your early-mid-week.
I posted this @ 8/15/2006 11:09:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
8/02/2006
MEN AT WORK
Sorry about any blog changes. I'm dinking around with layouts and such.
Don't mind the mess!
I posted this @ 8/02/2006 10:12:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
8/01/2006
THIS IS HOME
I am finally feeling like I'm getting settled in. My living room actually looks like a room you could live in. The couches (evil and non-evil) are no longer piled high with boxes or clothes or bags or stuff that has been unpacked from boxes but yet to find a home.
I'm not in a routine yet. I don't kick off my shoes where the rest of my shoes are. My bag finds various places to sit each day. Never the same place twice, so far. My keys/wallet/cell phone have this habit of migrating from foot of the stairs... to couch... to end table... to kitchen counter... and then somehow to my bedroom. They need a good home.
Things have been hung. There are pictures on some of the walls. Bare walls may be fine for other people, but for me, in my place, I need the walls to be staring back at me with something other than lifeless white.
The kitchen is still a bit of a shambles. This is where most things haven't found homes yet. I don't know where the dishes live. Glasses aren't in a convenient space yet. Pans have found a home. Yay! Any appliances that I need have found counter space on which to roost.
The fridge finally contains more than leftover PF Chang's rice and a pitcher of water. I finally have food options that include each of the food groups. I have a choice when it comes to beverages. Water... Milk... Coke... Beer... Crystal Light in a pinch.
I actually sat down and played around with my keyboard piano last night. This is something that I've really missed. There would be a song stuck in my head and the easiest way to remove it was to peck it out on the keys till I had a melody I could play. I'm sure that is some form of neurological disorder, but I don't care. I revel in it.
The bathroom is another story. I need more places to hang towels. A simple trip to the store will solve that. As of yet, all wet towels and wash clothes fight for space on the one bar that's precariously close to the toilet. It's only a matter of time before a washcloth takes a dive.
Closet space is adequate, but things need to be arranged. A good chunk of time is spent trying to locate exactly where my khakis have gone to hide. Work-suitable shirts are scattered throughout. This will simply not do. It's the organizer in me. A place for everything, even though everything won't always be in place.
Pictures to come! I just need to get everything set up again. My computer is also yet to find a home.
I posted this @ 8/01/2006 10:30:00 AM.............Need a link?..........
I'm a 30-something student of human nature. A music-lovin', groove-shakin', laugh-inducin', dish-cookin', gossip-slingin', type of guy. This is my diary of sorts...
