I am bored. I am at school. I will fill out applications online. I will try to get a job. I am a loser. The End.
As an aside, I have been writing more stories in my "spare" time. I try to get my ideas refined, I work on a screenplay, I collaborate online with Facebook friends, and I throw around ideas with Joe Slocum. We came up with some pretty cool characters for a story last night. The Anti-hero who calls himself "The Scientist" and the US Marshall that is hot on his trail. And the psychotic assassin who is trailing them both. Oh we have good details about the lives of these characters too, but nothing that I will divulge over the internet. Suffice (it) to say that it is cool... unpolished, but it's that way on purpose. It has a gritty feel rather than a smooth flowing style, and I like that about it because it makes it feel more real to me. But maybe I'm just a weirdo.
Thursday, February 26, 2009
Thursday, February 19, 2009
My Day So Far
I woke up, took a shower, ate cereal, jumped on Facebook for a few minutes, then went out to get wood for the fireplace, and that is where my first story starts.
Molly was at the door begging to go outside with me while I got wood for the woodstove. Just look at those puppy eyes, how could I refuse? I slid the door open and walked outside after her, carrying the old recyclable bin in one hand. Molly frolicked over to the little swingset and danced around for a minute while I began to load up the bin with irregular sized chunks of wood because all the normal ones have been burned up already.
I glanced up at Molly who had now begun to wander off toward the pine trees in the neighbors yard. "Molly!" I warned sternly, "Don't you run off now, I have to leave in not too long." She perked her ears and pretended to listen. I stared her down until I thought she got the point, then I continued to load up the wood. When the bin was full I picked it up and started toward the back door to the house. "Molly," I called, "come on, time to go in." I scanned the yard but she was nowhere to be seen. How long had I been out there, 3-5 minutes? I hollered a few more times before turning back to the house. I went inside and down to the basement where I unloaded the wood. I went back upstairs and opened the back door where I called out "MOLLY!" for 10 minutes straight. After that failed, I went outside and walked around calling out her name. But I had to go to school. I got my books, went out the front door, and started my car. I circled around the block once, but no Molly was to be seen.
As of this minute, Bethany has notified me that Adam has found the sinister pooch. She was enjoying a nice walk in the orchard all by herself.
Upon arriving at school, I went into the student lounge and glanced over somebody's shoulder while they read the Democrat and Chronicle newspaper. I skimmed through the editorial section when lo and behold, I saw my own name! A little over a week ago, I read an editorial about how stricter gun control laws could bring salvation to a city plagued by gun violence. I stole the article from Orbakers restaurant (with permission) and typed up a response when I got home. My preference was to have the letter be about 250 words long, but 175 words is the limit. Narrowing my topic wasn't easy, as there was so much I wanted to say, but I did it nonetheless and e-mailed it to the newspaper.
I thought they were suppose to call and notify me if they wanted to use my letter, but when they didn't I thought that they ignored me. But there it was this morning, right there in the DnC! My grandma and grandpa knew before I did, and I never even told anyone I sent anything in.
Coincidentally, it appears on the same day as a front page article about a murderer who got a pistol permit... I think they did that on purpose.
Molly was at the door begging to go outside with me while I got wood for the woodstove. Just look at those puppy eyes, how could I refuse? I slid the door open and walked outside after her, carrying the old recyclable bin in one hand. Molly frolicked over to the little swingset and danced around for a minute while I began to load up the bin with irregular sized chunks of wood because all the normal ones have been burned up already.
I glanced up at Molly who had now begun to wander off toward the pine trees in the neighbors yard. "Molly!" I warned sternly, "Don't you run off now, I have to leave in not too long." She perked her ears and pretended to listen. I stared her down until I thought she got the point, then I continued to load up the wood. When the bin was full I picked it up and started toward the back door to the house. "Molly," I called, "come on, time to go in." I scanned the yard but she was nowhere to be seen. How long had I been out there, 3-5 minutes? I hollered a few more times before turning back to the house. I went inside and down to the basement where I unloaded the wood. I went back upstairs and opened the back door where I called out "MOLLY!" for 10 minutes straight. After that failed, I went outside and walked around calling out her name. But I had to go to school. I got my books, went out the front door, and started my car. I circled around the block once, but no Molly was to be seen.
As of this minute, Bethany has notified me that Adam has found the sinister pooch. She was enjoying a nice walk in the orchard all by herself.
Upon arriving at school, I went into the student lounge and glanced over somebody's shoulder while they read the Democrat and Chronicle newspaper. I skimmed through the editorial section when lo and behold, I saw my own name! A little over a week ago, I read an editorial about how stricter gun control laws could bring salvation to a city plagued by gun violence. I stole the article from Orbakers restaurant (with permission) and typed up a response when I got home. My preference was to have the letter be about 250 words long, but 175 words is the limit. Narrowing my topic wasn't easy, as there was so much I wanted to say, but I did it nonetheless and e-mailed it to the newspaper.
I thought they were suppose to call and notify me if they wanted to use my letter, but when they didn't I thought that they ignored me. But there it was this morning, right there in the DnC! My grandma and grandpa knew before I did, and I never even told anyone I sent anything in.
Coincidentally, it appears on the same day as a front page article about a murderer who got a pistol permit... I think they did that on purpose.
Saturday, February 07, 2009
An Exciting True Story
As you all may have already known, I have been becoming increasingly discontented with my job as a pizza delivery guy. It is the same every day; wash dishes, get my shirt dirty, slice meat and veggies, deliver pizzas to the same five places that ordered (Mott's shipping, Mott's security, Route 88 barn, Pitts Ford, Middle or Elementary schools), and sometimes get a grouchy costumer. My boss, Chris, would yell at me for various petty things. I would often overhear different employees say my name while talking amongst themselves. They never let me know what they were talking about though... but I heard my name, so logically I could draw conclusions.
A couple of weeks ago, my boss got into trouble with his boss. We all knew who told the franchise owner about our supposed "less-than-par standards" because he came in all the time. He was a snoop, and he seemed to thrive on making stores other than the one he owned look bad... probably in an effort to climb the corporate ladder, if there is such a thing in this business. But my boss took it very seriously and began making a billion different revisions about the shop, including uniforms and recipes and such.
Previously at Cams, a delivery driver had to wear a white button up shirt with a bow tie. This summer when I went back to work there after a 1 1/2 year absence, the rules had become slightly more relaxed. The white shirt policy was still in effect, but the bow tie was no longer a requirement.
After the run-in with his boss, Chris reinstated the bow tie rule, which was tolerable I suppose. Unfortunately he soon demanded that I buy myself a new shirt and started getting extra grouchy about it. If I didn't buy a new shirt by a certain time, I would be fired. At this point I had already been feeling some pressure to quit, but not having any other job to go to, I had to give in and buy a brand new white shirt for myself, knowing full well that it would be completely wrecked within 2 weeks. The shirt I bought was nice, and it cost me $25.00. I didn't have enough time to look for anything cheaper, Wal-Mart doesn't believe in white button-up shirts. Further confounding the matter was the fact that only the delivery guys had to buy their own uniforms, other uniforms were standard issue.
I had this new white shirt for about a week when I went into work on Wednesday. Upon my arrival, my boss said to me, "Hey, where are your khaki pants? Didn't I tell you to wear khaki pants?"
"No Chris, you didn't tell me."
"Well, you gotta get some khaki pants before too long."
So I worked throughout Wednesday and on Thursday I went to school and forgot about khaki pants. In reality I didn't think it was a big deal, plus I had already spent $25.00 on a new shirt, so why would I want to spend more on pants for a minimum wage job that I didn't even like? I had also noticed something rather suspicious on the schedule the day before; Chris had a new guy scheduled to work some of my normal hours. What could this mean? I let that stew around in my brain for all of 5 seconds.
Friday rolled around and while on my way to work I realized that I had no khaki pants. "Oh well, not a big deal" I mused to myself. I pulled into my usual parking spot at work and grabbed my shirt and hat before getting out of my car and going in the front door to work. I entered like I normally did, greeting my boss with a smile. He was working at the bench making pizzas alongside the scumbag who had ratted on him. Chris looked up from his pizza making and said hello, then I watched his expression change. He looked at me with a rather stern face and said, "Hey Josiah, where are your khaki pants? Didn't I ask you to get some khaki pants? Remember that conversation we had?"
I looked at him with a strait face and said, "Oh yeah, I remember."
He continued, "So... what's the problem here?"
I stumbled over my thoughts for a second and mumbled something that wasn't even important enough for me to remember what it was. Chris pressed me for a strait answer. I looked at my feet for a minute before remembering my interpersonal communications class the night before. We had briefly discussed how well we conveyed our thoughts and ideas to others, even when it might be hard. I struggled with this for a second, the cannons raged in my head as the battle was fought. "Should I tell him what I am thinking... or should I just try and skirt the issue as I had been doing for the past 2 weeks?" I finally decided to just lay it out there plain as day and risk my job... it wasn't like it would be a huge loss to me anyway.
I looked him strait in the eye and explained, "Well, here's what I think: This is a minimum wage job, and I already spent $25 on a shirt, and quite frankly, I really don't feel like spending any more money on a minimum wage job that I don't even like anyway."
Without a single moments hesitation me gave me the news that I knew was coming anyway; "Well then, you're done." he stated rather matter-of-factly. I smiled and said "OK" and walked casually out of the shop. I got into my car and laughed. Then I realized that I probably had a paycheck inside on the counter. I waltzed back into the shop and kindly asked for my paycheck. Upon receiving my check, I turned around and walked back out the door.
So now I am jobless. I am currently waiting for news on any internships or jobs that FLCC might be able to offer me. If nothing turns up there, I may be able to score a job with a temp agency. If nothing else works out, I could always go back to Orbakers... but I hope it doesn't come to that.
A couple of weeks ago, my boss got into trouble with his boss. We all knew who told the franchise owner about our supposed "less-than-par standards" because he came in all the time. He was a snoop, and he seemed to thrive on making stores other than the one he owned look bad... probably in an effort to climb the corporate ladder, if there is such a thing in this business. But my boss took it very seriously and began making a billion different revisions about the shop, including uniforms and recipes and such.
Previously at Cams, a delivery driver had to wear a white button up shirt with a bow tie. This summer when I went back to work there after a 1 1/2 year absence, the rules had become slightly more relaxed. The white shirt policy was still in effect, but the bow tie was no longer a requirement.
After the run-in with his boss, Chris reinstated the bow tie rule, which was tolerable I suppose. Unfortunately he soon demanded that I buy myself a new shirt and started getting extra grouchy about it. If I didn't buy a new shirt by a certain time, I would be fired. At this point I had already been feeling some pressure to quit, but not having any other job to go to, I had to give in and buy a brand new white shirt for myself, knowing full well that it would be completely wrecked within 2 weeks. The shirt I bought was nice, and it cost me $25.00. I didn't have enough time to look for anything cheaper, Wal-Mart doesn't believe in white button-up shirts. Further confounding the matter was the fact that only the delivery guys had to buy their own uniforms, other uniforms were standard issue.
I had this new white shirt for about a week when I went into work on Wednesday. Upon my arrival, my boss said to me, "Hey, where are your khaki pants? Didn't I tell you to wear khaki pants?"
"No Chris, you didn't tell me."
"Well, you gotta get some khaki pants before too long."
So I worked throughout Wednesday and on Thursday I went to school and forgot about khaki pants. In reality I didn't think it was a big deal, plus I had already spent $25.00 on a new shirt, so why would I want to spend more on pants for a minimum wage job that I didn't even like? I had also noticed something rather suspicious on the schedule the day before; Chris had a new guy scheduled to work some of my normal hours. What could this mean? I let that stew around in my brain for all of 5 seconds.
Friday rolled around and while on my way to work I realized that I had no khaki pants. "Oh well, not a big deal" I mused to myself. I pulled into my usual parking spot at work and grabbed my shirt and hat before getting out of my car and going in the front door to work. I entered like I normally did, greeting my boss with a smile. He was working at the bench making pizzas alongside the scumbag who had ratted on him. Chris looked up from his pizza making and said hello, then I watched his expression change. He looked at me with a rather stern face and said, "Hey Josiah, where are your khaki pants? Didn't I ask you to get some khaki pants? Remember that conversation we had?"
I looked at him with a strait face and said, "Oh yeah, I remember."
He continued, "So... what's the problem here?"
I stumbled over my thoughts for a second and mumbled something that wasn't even important enough for me to remember what it was. Chris pressed me for a strait answer. I looked at my feet for a minute before remembering my interpersonal communications class the night before. We had briefly discussed how well we conveyed our thoughts and ideas to others, even when it might be hard. I struggled with this for a second, the cannons raged in my head as the battle was fought. "Should I tell him what I am thinking... or should I just try and skirt the issue as I had been doing for the past 2 weeks?" I finally decided to just lay it out there plain as day and risk my job... it wasn't like it would be a huge loss to me anyway.
I looked him strait in the eye and explained, "Well, here's what I think: This is a minimum wage job, and I already spent $25 on a shirt, and quite frankly, I really don't feel like spending any more money on a minimum wage job that I don't even like anyway."
Without a single moments hesitation me gave me the news that I knew was coming anyway; "Well then, you're done." he stated rather matter-of-factly. I smiled and said "OK" and walked casually out of the shop. I got into my car and laughed. Then I realized that I probably had a paycheck inside on the counter. I waltzed back into the shop and kindly asked for my paycheck. Upon receiving my check, I turned around and walked back out the door.
So now I am jobless. I am currently waiting for news on any internships or jobs that FLCC might be able to offer me. If nothing turns up there, I may be able to score a job with a temp agency. If nothing else works out, I could always go back to Orbakers... but I hope it doesn't come to that.
Tuesday, February 03, 2009
I'm Too Smart for My Own Good
Today while thinking of various nervous systems that are supposedly inside the human body (Central Nervous System, Peripheral Nervous System, Autonomic Nervous System, Sympathetic Nervous System, and Parasympathetic Nervous System), I thought of a funny scenario in which a mechanic instructed some pupils that there were different types of gasoline used in cars at various times, Acceleration Gasoline, Deceleration Gasoline, and Cruising Gasoline. He explains:
"Acceleration Gasoline is what the vehicle will use when we apply extra pressure to the gas pedal. When we ease off the gas and drive at a consistent speed, the engine switches to Cruising Gasoline. And finally, when the driver downshifts, or apply the brake, the engine will switch yet again, this time to use Deceleration Gasoline. Not any of these types of gasoline can be used during a time when another is in use."
I thought it was interesting and entertained that concept throughout my psychology class this morning. What if all these nervous systems, or at least one or two, were really the same thing? It is true, you can't use gas with which you are decelerating for accelerating again, right? But in reality, all the gas is exactly the same, it's just being used differently.
Another thought I had was about my Interpersonal Communications textbook. Do we really need a 400 page textbook to tell us how to talk to each other? I can understand that some people lack communications skills, but taking 400 pages to teach us how to talk??
I think I should consolidate it into a 30 page booklet that would be much easier to read, access, and carry around. People could just whip it out at the first sing of a communications error. I will call it "The Handbook for Life's Misunderstandings" and it would be a bestseller until people realized that it was plagiarized.
"Acceleration Gasoline is what the vehicle will use when we apply extra pressure to the gas pedal. When we ease off the gas and drive at a consistent speed, the engine switches to Cruising Gasoline. And finally, when the driver downshifts, or apply the brake, the engine will switch yet again, this time to use Deceleration Gasoline. Not any of these types of gasoline can be used during a time when another is in use."
I thought it was interesting and entertained that concept throughout my psychology class this morning. What if all these nervous systems, or at least one or two, were really the same thing? It is true, you can't use gas with which you are decelerating for accelerating again, right? But in reality, all the gas is exactly the same, it's just being used differently.
Another thought I had was about my Interpersonal Communications textbook. Do we really need a 400 page textbook to tell us how to talk to each other? I can understand that some people lack communications skills, but taking 400 pages to teach us how to talk??
I think I should consolidate it into a 30 page booklet that would be much easier to read, access, and carry around. People could just whip it out at the first sing of a communications error. I will call it "The Handbook for Life's Misunderstandings" and it would be a bestseller until people realized that it was plagiarized.
Monday, February 02, 2009
Nobody Will Read This
Hi all of you who never read my blog anyway! How are you?
On Tuesday or Thursday... I think it was Thursday, I ate some peanut butter nutty buddy snacks from the vending machine at school. Over the weekend I have felt very weird and sick, almost like the flu but a little bit different. I looked up the symptoms of salmonella and I guess it isn't always severe enough to be lethal, and the symptoms I have match rather well. I was unable to find the exact snack on the FDA website, but I don't know how you are supposed to find anything on there. I also tried looking them up on google, but all I got were Betty Crocker recipes.
Anyway, on another note, I hate my job. I like writing, and I got some good comments on my story blog. I have been writing a never-ending story with some dudes on facebook as well and it is going pretty good so far. I'm genuinely interested in this story now.
On Tuesday or Thursday... I think it was Thursday, I ate some peanut butter nutty buddy snacks from the vending machine at school. Over the weekend I have felt very weird and sick, almost like the flu but a little bit different. I looked up the symptoms of salmonella and I guess it isn't always severe enough to be lethal, and the symptoms I have match rather well. I was unable to find the exact snack on the FDA website, but I don't know how you are supposed to find anything on there. I also tried looking them up on google, but all I got were Betty Crocker recipes.
Anyway, on another note, I hate my job. I like writing, and I got some good comments on my story blog. I have been writing a never-ending story with some dudes on facebook as well and it is going pretty good so far. I'm genuinely interested in this story now.
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