That defining moment

Excluding religious illusions, there are very few incidents of man possessing the ability to be completely sure of anything in his/her life. On average, a human being will have three of these experiences. That one defining moment when you're stirred from your apathetic slumber, and awaken to see a simple solution for all of your life's problems. That moment when you realize you were never really apathetic, but lulled into a constant state of boredom by your circumstantial lifestyle.

You promise yourself that night, "Tomorrow is going to be different. No longer shall I stand idly by and wait for the answers to come to me. I'm going to go out and grab life by the balls."

You awaken the next morning with a stiff back to the shrill sounds of the buzzer, announcing itself every morning as a reminder of how truly mundane we are. That burning passion to change the world, or at least the way you perceive it, is gone. You slept through a good ten minutes of your alarm, giving you just enough time to shovel whatever you're passing off as a meal down your throat. The revolutionary of yesterday is buried deep inside a shell of consumerism and corporate slavery. The need to get on with your life is quelled by the need to get on with wasting it. Pawns is all we are.

The struggle

The next few weeks are going to be a test of survival and frugality. I'm working another 5 day straight-week, and need to save at least 60% of this weeks check. I've cut my nicotine costs in half by purchasing several packs of roll-your-own cigarettes for half of the price of filtered ones. Due to the ridiculous cost of gas, I've decided for the next few weeks until I move closer to work, I'll be sleeping in the parking lot on my consecutive work days. I've already gotten a lot of scorn for this from my girlfriend, friends, and family, but desperate times call for desperate measures. As far as hygiene, I'm not too concerned. There's showers in the locker rooms and I've got all of the basic hygiene products I should need.

Just a heads up to everyone, I probably won't be posting much over the next few weeks.

Thanks, google.

So not only was my appeal denied, but the person who click-bombed me still has an approved adsense account. I provided proof that I was purposefully banned, and proof of who it was who did it. What more do you want, one of my testicles?

Don't Go Outside

I believe it was the winter of '08, or possibly '09, somewhere between graduating high school and screwing around for 2 years before college. There was a weather advisory telling people to stay indoors, the snow was reaching a foot or so, and the temperature was at least negative twenty fahrenheit. There was the three of us, Brett, Izzy and myself, tromping through the snow in worn sneakers and torn hoodies. How we made it the mile through the woods, I'm unsure. The liquor kept us warm, but has since wiped that section of the trip clear from my memory.

As we strolled through the mall parking lot, we noticed the security entrance, stuck open by a mound of snow. At this point, any source of warmth was welcoming. A feeling of relaxation came over me, walking through the mall at 2 in the morning, surrounded by emptiness and closed stores. By the time we made it to the other side of the mall, still wet around the ankles, we came out satisfied with that brief period of warmth. This made the last mile or two of our trip much less taxing, however the feeling of relief upon arrival changed very little.

I guess this is one of those few times you hear about innocent breaking and entering, also one of the few times it has had a good outcome. There isn't really much of a message or any morals to this story, just an event that poked its head from my subconscious and ended up here.

Has it been this long?

I remember the day we planted the willow trees in my front yard. The balmy breeze was a relief as the sun stared down through the humid air. One of those days where you'd rather walk or bike to the store than drive because the seats would burn your back.

Years have passed, and I've barely payed them any mind. The repetitive motions of departing quickly and collapsing into a ball of tired back-ache upon arrival have left me blind to their beauty.

For the first time in years, I walked around my front yard. So accustomed to the seclusion of the back during great times of beer and bonfires, the passing cars brought a feeling of contempt. Curses of living on a main road, curses of being born too late.

For the first time in years, I noticed that they were no longer just above my head. Their branches stretching high above the power lines, the ones closest to the sun keeping the others from fully developing.

My own quasi-reality has distracted me from the true reality enveloping me. This has gotten out of hand and gone on long enough.

I need to work on my priorities.

I'd rather have an idea than a belief.

I believe certain atheists try far too hard to make a statement. Rather than just allow themselves to be happy and content with their beliefs, they try to solicit others to their state of mind. Their persistence to turn any conversation even closely related to religion into a debate is like that of a Jehova's Witness. Creating a religion in and of itself, the exact thing they claim to despise so very much.

It just makes... no sense to me. Any of of it, any beliefs outside of basic structure and kindness towards fellow man. What we have here is nonsense, billions of people fighting over the same thing for thousands of years. Who has bigger Gods (more money), and who has bigger dicks (bombs).

The company I keep

It's hard to make friends with this lifestyle. I go to bed when the average morning person is stumbling to the coffee pot. Living this way, you learn to appreciate 24 hour gas stations and diners. Dennys and IHOP's bottomless coffee pots keep me alive, and the graveyard shift gas attendants keep me company.

The average person doesn't actually sit down to have a conversation with these convenience store heroes. However, when it's 4 in the morning on your day (night) off, there really isn't much else to do other than drink coffee, smoke cigarettes, and shoot the shit with the few people still awake. The local Mobile seems to be a meeting place for anyone looking to kill time in those long hours between night and morning.

My job offered to move me to days, but I've grown too comfortable of this lifestyle. Though it may not be healthy, I love 90% of my co-workers and 30% of my bosses. The situation would be much different if I were to move to days, and I would have considerably less seniority. Rather than being noticed for the good things I do, I would merely become another pawn to be spat upon regularly. I don't plan on staying forever, but I like where I'm at right now.

It's been a while.

Worked a 5 day straight-week with mandatory overtime, I'm beyond tired. Beetle Juice called me asking for the bags under his eyes back. I took a picture of the stack of Red Bull cans piling up in my car and they're considering sponsoring me. My blood has been replaced by caffeine, nicotine and ephedrine. I am the all-seeing, never sleeping, clusterfuck of insane proverbs and nonsensical statements. I am... taking a break. I'll be back when reality sets in with some actual content. For now, I give you an adorable kitten.

I love playing old games again

Emulators are great, especially for older cartridge systems that are pretty much impossible to find working games for. I must say though, nothing beats the feeling of wiping the dust off of the old N64 or PS1 and getting your oldschool on.

That feeling of nostalgia you get with every little goomba you squish or every mission you remember every single detail of. Realizing you're never going to be as dedicated to that game as you were when you were a kid. I miss the ability to sit down for hours on end and literally Catch 'em All.

Graveyard Shift

Some say it's hard to adjust, the long hours in a heartless metal box. Breakfast at 5pm, dinner at 6am, and a lunch squeezed into 10 minutes of shoveling food and 20 minutes of chain smoking. The sane ones don't last very long, packed into a cooler with 100 pissed off lunatics while the other sane people are sleeping. The few that last longer than 3 or 4 months get names, anyone else you don't bother. The turnover rate at this warehouse (which I will not name nor go into what we produce, etc etc due to legal ramifications) is higher than 10 to 1. It involves heavy lifting for 10 to 12 hours a night, mandatory extra days are common, and the management will not even acknowledge you until you make a mistake.

You could say it's a hostile work environment, but only if you're an asshole. If you piss off the wrong guy, they'll find fault in everything you do and make you do it again. They'll stop you from being able to get your work done, and kill your entire night. I was fortunate enough to learn this early: Stay off everyone's radar, and maybe you'll keep your job. However, through all the trials, tribulations, stress and frustration, I've learned a few things, and here they are.

Treat every single human being with respect.
Sure, the schmuck at the coffee shop made your order wrong. Don't give him a hard time about it, just tell him you want a new one. Don't give him the typical "You do this all day, why would you specifically mess up my order?" crap. The fact that you don't freak out about your order will probably make that college drop-out's day. I bet you next time he'll even hold the spit.

Patience
This goes both ways. I have horrible road rage which actually became worse with this job, but outside of a car or the warehouse I am calm as a Hindu cow. With the amount of bullshit and stupidity I deal with on a nightly basis, nothing can phase me. Not the old lady that buys 30 different types of scratch tickets, not the one guy in front of 10 cars that doesn't realize he can go right on red. Not even the massive Chevy Suburban ordering the entire menu at the drive-thru. Nothing.

Your boss does not care about you
I know, I know, you guys sat down and had this really great talk one time, you told him about your life goals, and you feel like you really connected with him. Do not even half convince yourself for a second that he wouldn't fire you. You do not have "ins", you are not privileged, you are a pawn on his chess board and nothing more. To assume you won't be fired tomorrow is to live in denial. Just try not to get noticed for as long as possible, the more they notice you, the more you go under review.

Or maybe it is a nature blog

But alas, I am not exactly the nature type. Flowers congest my sinuses, bugs give me bumps and rashes, and the sun burns my excessively pale skin. To hell with nature, I say. Just let me have my game console, my internet, and my TV dinners, and let me sleep in a place where I don't have to worry about these things being stolen. Just leave me be in there, the outside world is treacherous and unforgiving. A trip outside means the bright sun in my eyes, and curses of how badly I'd love to fill the potholes with Federal Reserve money, rather than shred my tires and watch the dollar signs crumble.

Don't get me wrong, I appreciate nature. I see the beauty in it, I'm just not entirely supportive when it comes to participating in it. So bare with me, this is a new blog and I haven't quite picked a focus, the weather is nice so if I can get a good shot in, I post it. Whatever I do decide on, it will most definitely be a fiery blast of awesome in pixel form. So hang in there.

Enough, this is not a nature blog.

Though I do as I please, I am not content with the current theme being represented. So here's something I've been working on putting to paper for quite a while.

17 years young, 5'7", toned, and wiry. Ready to fight for people who would never really be influential in my life beyond the next year or so. My life was school, work, boxing, and drinking, along with multiple hallucinogens which I need not get too far into at this point.

The lights from the nearby festival danced on the back of the local dive bar. Up to this point, my only knowledge was that about 150 kids total from two rival schools met up for a one on one fight, each representing one school. I attended followed by a troop of  about 15, a large percentage of which took underground boxing extremely seriously. One kid in particular kept trying to egg me on during the fight. I don't remember his face, I just remember that obnoxious blue button-up.

A few minutes pass, and someone from the other side punches a friend of mine in the back of the head. Everyone from my town pulls bats out of their pants, chaos ensues, and someone yells "cops" to disperse the crowd. It just so happens that the direction I had decided to go was the same direction Mr. Blue Polo had decided to walk not 5 minutes after my settling.

I antagonize him. I begged him to fight me, with promises that it would only be me. He walks, I instigate. He walks, I sling words and wait. He told me to wait. I knew in my mind, there was at least 10 coming down that hill. The crew had dispersed to the point where I only had 5 men, 2 of which were competent fighters. The less fortunate I sent for back-up and put one in the truck for evac. My only defense against what came next was a small tire iron and the ability to take gross amounts of pain.

10 was a major underestimate. 20 drunk guidos running down a hill is really a sight, you know? You can't help but shake, but the ability to turn that fear into adrenaline will keep a man alive. Confrontations begin, a six foot ball of muscle is in my face, as I continue to explain I only wish to fight one. I'm getting nowhere with these drunks, no one has any respect for a fair fight these days.

Two guys I had just met that night started getting into it, just trying to barre this horde from me. One gets taken to the ground within 20 seconds, the other knocks two of them out cold. Two down, eighteen to go. I went to help my newfound companion off of the ground, and succeed as 4 fists flew towards my face. I take 3 or 4 shots, and start swinging the tire iron like mad. I can't see.

I open my eyes to a hand on my throat, and a fist coming to my eye. He swings wide and hits me in the cheek at the exact moment I lifted my arm to strike his jaw with my only defense. As he fell, his shirt caught my eye... Mr Blue Polo. I black out.

They must have had me on the ground kicking me 4 times by now, why do I keep getting up and swinging? What has possessed me to be this persistant in my survival? What happened to the tire iron? Where are the kids that tried to help me? Are they ok? These things all set into my head at once, and the tension of the fight dies down.

Blood is pouring down my face, covering my arms from wiping it out of my eyes, my neck and shirt from blowing it out or coughing it up. This was my 4th broken nose, and the last concussion I could really afford. I walked down the street, smiling and waving at people for a few minutes. When I found my ride, one of them had the audacity to comment on my bloody, battered condition.

I spat blood and said to him, "Look how many of you it took."

Some more nature shots

 

Easy Mothers Day Solution

We all know the story. Mothers day rolls around and you're completely broke. Your cell phone bill, car insurance, and mortgage all hit at once, and that ungrateful woman is still expecting hand-outs. You could spend $6 on a cheesy card that will end up in the trash, or you can invest a few minutes of your time into something she'll actually appreciate.

Gardens, women love them. But don't end up another chump standing in line the day before mothers day to buy the same bouquet of flowers the last idiot bought. Pick something useful, something you can put in food or use as a spice.

I chose tomatoes.

A bag with 20 or 30 organic seeds runs as low as $2.00, considerably less than you'll spend on some shitty flowers that will die in a day. Unless you've upgraded to a freezer that makes them for you, you've probably got a few hundred ice cube trays laying around. And I'm guessing this is the case, since your broke ass can't even afford a decent present for your mother.  These are great for seedlings to start off before you plant them outside.

All-in-all you might end up spending $10 if you include the cheap little plastic pots to put the seedlings in.

Also it helps if she has a greenhouse. 

I miss shooting things

I think it's time to go back to the range. Best way to get rid of that daily aggression.

Yes, we still play this game.

 

Because honestly, where else is one to find such a steady supply of noobs?

Just some shots I took a few years back

This just in

Cats.

Necessary for any workaholic.

I work long hours, usually 5 or 6 days a week. Because my work hours consume my life, I wasn't able to go past The Siesta without conflicting with my schedule. However I suggest anyone with a flexible schedule try any of the others. Also I do not claim ownership of this, nor is it marked with a copyright of any kind. It is simply a repost of a repost of a repost.

Nothing of interest

Though much has happened in the past 24 hours, not much is worth mentioning. Domestic dispute at a gas station I was buying cigarettes at ended in me being locked in the store waiting for the cops to show up. As I sat there at 4 in the morning between the Doritos and Red Bull, watching this girl cry her eyes out while this massive slab of douchebaggery banged on the window trying to get to her, I couldn't help but think... god bless America.

Is anyone else mad this isn't out yet?

Never go to bed angry

Make a routine for yourself, keep it simple. Call it a wind-down, your relaxation period before bed. Whether it's venting your frustration through forum posts, furious masturbation, or simply reading a good book. Give yourself an hour before you fall asleep to silence the noise in your brain. Going to bed relaxed can have positive effects on your sleeping patterns, and even your mood upon awakening the next day.

Every once in a while

You really just need to look at kittens do cute things.

 

See? Didn't that feel good? Yeah, that's right. Just let the cuteness take hold. It's ok, nobody's there to make fun of you. Just grab hold of the cuteness, and never let go.

A rarity amongst the wave of ferocity

Very few times have I come across a genuinely good man. Our desensitized youth ever cautious of their own desires often overlook the reality surrounding them. I believe I may have met this man. Vulgar and disrespectful as he may be, there is a certain caring feature about him that sets him apart from the rest. We meet up for coffee and cigarettes, the usual wind-down concoction after work is through. There in the coffee shop is a man sitting quietly in the corner, bundled up in last seasons red cross clothing. People come and go, paying no mind to him, while he gives them the same level of respect.

My companion offers the man a cup of coffee and something to eat, as customers all through the store seem surprised we would even associate with such a man. We sat, we listened to his story, and the mood grew somber. The man was no drug addict, nor an alcoholic. He was a regular man that had lost everything.

That night I sat and watched him buy 3 homeless people coffee, offer his coat to one, and chain smoke half a pack with another. What a guy.

This is just a test

Of your emergency broadcast system.