Depending on what your clock says, I am now 28 years old. Yee ha!

In general, work is kicking my ass, and this week it really did a number on me. I was exhausted all day today, and for some reason now at 1:30 AM I am wide awake. Might as well write about it!

Anyway the reason work is more draining than usual is the fact that we are down to 10 total employees from our usual 17 or 18. It's basically twice the work of what is already a stressful work environment to begin with. The sad thing is it's going to get worse before it gets better. We're going to lose even more people. I shall then be doing even more work than I already am. I think I need a vacation, but there is none in sight.

So yeah, 28. It came up out of nowhere and doesn't really feel any different than 27, if you haven't been to either one yet. I do admit it's nice to have that little bit of recognition from everyone. It really does make me miss all my friends though. I miss you guys!

But Denver is great. The apartment is great. It's great being here with my love and having her family come visit us last month. We ran around all over the place doing stuff and having a blast. I wish we could do that more often. I wish we could see and hang out with everyone more often. Then again maybe everyone else feels the same way I/we do? I hope so. I certainly recommend coming out to Colorado if you're looking for a trip and you've never been here. I could spend all night going over the reasons! I was skeptical at first as to whether it would welcome me, but it has! I don't think it is our permanent home, but it makes you realize that there's a world outside Illinois (and also that Illinois and other places, things, and people are not as far aways as you might think).

Anyway...

I missed a bunch of people's birthdays lately. I apologize! If it makes you feel any better they all slipped past me. But happy birthday all the same, to me and everyone else. I miss you and hope we get a chance to chat somewhere, somehow, soon.

So ever since they altered the livejournal homepage I've seen that "last posted" ticker climb to the now daunting 5 weeks it is now. Not too much has been happening, to be honest. With it being insanely warm and severely lacking in any of this rain business, we've taken to sitting inside our nice and cool air-conditioned apartment. Stupid summer! I can only imagine what misery this would be in other more humid portions of the country.

Work is work as usual. The summer season is upon us, which means lots and lots of standing around (and updating the journal while there). I actually hate it being this slow. The day drags to a crawl. The only good thing is getting some time on the internet. I never write at home so I don't know what possesses me to do so here. I think I can't just stand around and look at the walls. Home offers up better distractions, like Lottso Deluxe. :P

No huge 4th of July plans for this week. I'm only off on Wednesday, but at the very least we'll have a nice dinner. Anything else might really depend on the weather. We should try for some fireworks. I'm kinda wondering and hoping we can see a display from our balcony. At the old apartment you could kind of see some out one of the windows. I figure now we're on the fourth floor with our balcony, the odds are good.

10 year class reunion is happening in September. I'm doubting I will attend. It's a weird time for a reunion (why don't they have it in the summer?). I also feel like I have other things I'd like to spend money on. Such as items for the apartment: a bed, a couch, and other amenities. The car needs a lot of work on it too. I'm not too jazzed about seeing a bunch of people I was never really all that fond of to begin with. I still see my real circle of friends outside of reunions, for the most part, anyway. You never know. Maybe I'll win the Pogo jackpot. Hu hu hu.

People die. We all die in the end. Something happens today or 40 years from now that makes our physical bodies unable to function. When I was a small child I spent a lot of restless nights thinking about what it would feel like to die. I wouldn't think about the physical pain, but I would think about what it would be like not to wake up tomorrow morning. The end of my physical existence sparks a terror in me so great I cannot explain it. I have always felt that way. Perhaps the greatest fear is the thought that there's nothing after this. It's the thought that I'm just a collection of atoms sitting on borrowed time on our planet. Perhaps it is this very real fear that hinders me from finding my faith and religion or even a vague idea where I may even possibly fit into an afterlife.

I was raised as a Lutheran, and obviously God says if you do "this, this, and this," you'll join me in the kingdom of Heaven forever. But holy crap who is to say that all of these books in The Bible are even what God wants from us anyway? I mean this all happened so long ago we have no idea what the people were like who composed the works that complete that book. Who knows? There's other religions out there. Which one is the right one? Are they all just a source of peace and comfort to guide people into death without fear? Do some folks immerse themselves in one religion or another simply to make death less important?

I have never figured these things out. I don't know if I ever will at this rate. I seem to only acquire more questions than answers as I get older. I wonder if others out there have found their path so very easily or if some major event has to occur in order to confirm one belief or another. Maybe I just think about it too much.

Still... There's no question I place faith in some higher power. I have no doubt my path has an explicit rhyme and reason to it. I certainly feel that everything happens for a reason, and in the end no matter what pain might be involved, it is for the best. I so try my best to be a good person. I try to treat everyone with respect. I trust people to do good that probably shouldn't be trusted to do anything at all. I try to use love and compassion more than any other emotion. But maybe I don't pray every day because I don't know who I'm praying to. Or maybe I'm doing something to someone or something that I think is right, but is totally and utterly wrong. Am I to be burned alive for all eternity in the pits of hell because of it? Or to be eaten alive by bacteria and insects while I'm 6 feet under and my living consciousness has long since died?

I have no idea.

I can't wrap my mind around the fact that my grandma died and not only did she know she was going to Heaven (or what I know as Heaven from being a Lutheran), but even imagined what it would be like and what would happen while she was there. I mean imagine being at the end of your life and totally knowing you're going to die. Every doctor and nurse you know is telling you it's only a matter of time. Every waking moment of your life is spent planning for your death. You're thinking about every single thing and every single person you've ever met and experienced in your life. It's all on the line. Everything you've ever done, haven't done, and your wildest hopes are right there for you constantly. You're dying, what else is there to think about? To be able to say, "alright it's my time to go I'm ready to tackle what's next," is so far beyond me it creeps me out. I clearly need to do a lot more living. I hope I have a lot of years left in me because I'm not even remotely ready to tap out yet.

Maybe grandma is up there, or out there, or wherever, right now looking down on me and wondering what the hell I'm stressing and drinking about. But man oh man, grandma, if you're watching me type, I need a lot more of something to go on if I'm to have the faith and courage you've had in your last moments. All I can think of right now is how can I stop all the swirling chaos in my head.

Somewhere over the midwest...

Flying again... I hate flying. Flying alone is even worse. I really can't fathom having to travel like this all the time. What if you had two flights in one day? Yuck! Nobody ever seems happy or excited on an airplane. It's so boring and there's nothing to do. You sit in a cramped and uncomfortable seat for a couple hours and feel like crap when you land. I'm always happy to land though. I like landing.

I wonder if everyone who travels feels this way. I've only been on a couple flights where a certain person or persons are actually talking and/or laughing and seem generally content with where they are. Everyone else looks lifeless. They all (myself included) wind through the ticket line, mosey through security, and meander through the gate like cattle being led to slaughter. There's that look of resigned death they all have in their eyes. Occasionally there's one frightened and confused cow that is unsure which death queue or which gas chamber they're supposed to be in. That at least livens things up a bit.

Something must be done to make the airport itself more interesting and exciting. They should have comedians or clowns doing funny things. At least make some of these people smile some.

I think the worst thing about flying is the lack of control one has over their environment. I already mentioned the concrete seats. It's either too cold or hot. And you have no idea what the pilots are doing. For all I know they're getting hopped up and dancing up front there. We should be able to check up on what they're doing from time to time.

There's no point in showering before you get on the plane. You'll need one again, or at least feel like you need one when it's all over. Two hour flight and it feels like you've been chopping wood in the sun all day. At least with chopping wood you can build a shed or start a campfire afterward.

I just wanted to quickly say thank you to all who offered prayers, thoughs, sympathy, or anything at all during these last few days. Especially to my love, Daneen, who always gets me through everything in life with a smile on my face, even those rare times like now when we're apart for a time. Even being so far away I always know she's right here with me, just as I'm always with her. I love you, loooooove!

( Grandma's obituary behind the cut )

To Bernice Block, or Grandma:

Rest in peace. You are, and forever shall be, loved and missed. In your life you have touched, shaped, and changed so many lives. I am lucky and blessed to be one that will forever be a better person under your guidance. It doesn't feel like you're gone. In my heart and my mind you are never anywhere but right here with me. And I am with you in your eternal journey through whatever awaits us beyond this mortal coil. I am so proud to have had you as my grandmother, as I suspect you are equally as proud to have had me for a grandson.

I have my flaws and I have regrets. I didn't see you at all towards the end of your time. I didn't call and I didn't write. The last time we spoke on the phone you apologized for not being able to talk as you always have. You had nothing to apologize for and I could understand you perfectly. Even if you couldn't speak I would have known what you said. You wanted me there and I wasn't there to see you before you left. I don't think that's something I'll ever overcome. Take heart in knowing that I'm the same as I always was. My hair has grown a bit longer now and we've moved into a bigger apartment. Apart from that everything is as it has always been. You wouldn't think I'd changed at all. Even when the cancer had sapped all visible life from you, I knew you'd look and feel the same to me as well.

One day when it's finally my time we'll meet again. We'll sit around and talk about all the good times we had together (not only between us but the whole family). We'll play board games and watch our beloved Chicago Cubs in another losing season. We'll hang out in the basement painting ceramics and listening to old country music. It's that country music I had grown to dislike that now I can't stop listening to. Every time I listen to Patsy Cline or Johnny Cash. If I hear Willie Nelson or that silly song about "I Love a Rainy Night," you're right there with me and it's the most beautiful music I've ever heard.

It is in these ways and many more you will travel with me until I get to the end of the road. Today, and I suspect for some time, I am sad and quite lost and confused. Eventually I know that will pass and all the good times will wash over me. After that we'll be together again and content.

New place! New place!

Fire Walk With Me!

In my dream I found myself at the summit of some large mountain overlooking a canyon. The height caused me to swoon briefly and for an instant I imagined myself flying for a while and eventually floating to the bottom of the valley before me. A brisk wind forced me back a step and my feet touched the Earth once more. I was wearing a fine suit. It was something out of a television commercial or a movie. That suit would be the envy of rich folks and secret agents everywhere. I wore a red tie that whipped me about the face when the wind truly was swirling. This scene was nothing out of real life. No place in the world could be this beautiful and breathtaking.

As I stood there with the wind biting at me with every swirl, I thought about good times and memories. I thought of familiar faces and places and how I might feel if I were to revisit them. In that moment, however, I felt deathly afraid to turn my head and view what was behind me. I knew, somehow, if I were to go backwards, I would actually stumble forward off the cliff and be ripped to shreds on the rocks during my fall.

The question of the future became the most obvious direction to go from here. Stay and enjoy the view? Leap forward with all strength trusting in wings I never truly had? In the end I knew I would stay put. I'm not a risk taker and the path already traveled is never to be traveled again.

Suddenly the scenery dissipated and faded. I found myself sitting at my desk in my apartment. I was typing upon a blank canvas much as I am doing right now. I realized that I am one that follows. I am not the leader. I found that if I truly stood at the edge of that cliff overlooking the valley, I would sit down and wait for something or someone to come and give me direction. I would follow, but never be content or satisfied. In fact, I would likely be in disharmony. My path is the most confusing because I make it for myself because no one else's path can truly satisfy me. I will drastically go in one direction or I will sit in the same place. The reasons for both probably make sense to no one but me. But that is me and that is who I know. I don't suppose anyone else will ever understand, and I doubt I'll ever truly be able to explain what it's like.

np. Peter Gabriel - "Blood of Eden"

Listen to this song if you haven't before and you'll wonder why in the hell you haven't.

Last Friday night night we attended a wake at Cafe Netherworld, the local alternative subculture gothy sort of bar here in Capitol Hill. What a way to remember a person I've never even met. They had a microphone set up where people could share memories, thoughts, and feelings.

I have so many things to say about this, but no real way to totally express them into writing. What a way to go out though. I mean the man was young and his father directed all gifts anonymously to a kidney foundation. But everyone there was a friend and there to pay tribute. Everyone there pouring their hearts out and submitting themselves for their friend. I hope I can have people speak so highly of me and in such a fashion when I finally make my exit.

np. Peter Gabriel - "Only Us"

It's a Peter Gabriel evening as of now.

I think that's what I want out of a traditional funeral. I'm either fortunate or unfortunate to have only attended one or two funerals over the years. What I have seen, I suppose, is the religious Christian funeral where there's a lot of "service" and very little of people actually talking about it. If I wanted to sing songs, sit down and stand up, and then pretend like nothing happened, I don't know where the hell I'd go but I'd go somewhere else. How about for a funeral we provide a situation where we can really fucking talk about the person we miss and their accomplishments in life. How about providing a welcoming avenue where I can share my deepest emotions about the recently passed without it being a procedure or some hushed discussion amongst other attendees.

np. Peter Gabriel - "Washing of the Water"

Well what better place than a bar or other less formal atmosphere for such arrangements? If I want to sit around and close up to the world around me, then I can sit and home and do it. A funeral is supposed to be a thing of healing and passing and remembrance. Above that, it SHOULD be a celebration. If, when I pass, I don't get a celebration of my life, I will return to life as the undead and haunt people. If you have nothing but sad memories of me, and you can't raise a shot of vodka or bourbon to me, then man you missed out on me!

Fear the Old School Aaron Entry! If you have to ask what it is, then it is probably too old school for you.

NP. Pink Floyd - "Poles Apart"

I was playing my customized LaunchCast station at work some day last week or a couple weeks ago (who knows when it was they all run together at this point). Sheep by Pink Floyd came on and we had a brief discussion about sitting around in basements and listening to Pink Floyd in high school. I had this conversation with a guy about 15 years older than me! How cool is that? Especially if you're one of the band members. Just knowing that two separate generations were chilling out to your music has to be a bit of an ego boost.

This is actually one of my most favorite Pink Floyd songs. My first exposure to them was actually The Division Bell album that this is from. Dark Side of the Moon and The Wall (and everything else) came later. So there's always a special place reserved for anything off this CD. Great song though. I've listened to it to death.

NP. The Cruxshadows - "Marilyn My Bitterness"

Quite the empowering song, this is. This seems to be a different version than what I'm used to, but it's still powerful. I remember years ago listening to this song in regards to a certain situation with a certain someone that is very far-removed now and without point in mentioning. That's the amazing power of music. One song, one lyric, or one chord... It can all bring back memories long-forgotten and cast aside. In the end it's a great song. I wish we could have seen these folks live when they were in Denver this winter. Unfortunately parking and distance were both factors, as well as it being a Sunday night show.

Hey it's pushing midnight now. It's actually Wednesday and I'm still awake. Sadly, I have to be awake at 6:00 AM at the latest. Looks like it's another night of napping for me. I'm currently running on at least a week or two of that process. I've gone from working third shift security and a sleeping schedule of pure crap, to being able to sleep as soon as my head hit the pillow, to now almost never getting any kind of quality sleep whatsoever.

NP. Everything but the Girl - "Walking Wounded"

This is a great song off a great CD I listened to a lot towards the end of the high school days. I discovered them based on the recommendation of the first person I ever really spoke to in a chatroom. It began on a late night spent with Mike and Adam in Adam's basement talking to people on some website that is likely long since defunct and I can't even remotely remember the name of it. Anyway I just remember hearing I should listen to Everything but the Girl, and that turned out to be a wise suggestion. There are a lot of good songs on this particular album.

With that in mind, I can only think of how much I should be asleep by now. That feeling is overwhelming my drive to write and post at this time. Still, it feels great to go back to the old style version of journal entry, and it totally opens up the prospect of me doing it again sometime soon. Hopefully at a much earlier hour of the evening than tonight!

The Seinfeld episode last night was the "Serenity Now" episode where Frank uses said relaxation technique to no avail. This is my favorite Seinfeld episode next to the "Festivus" episode. Near the end of the episode. Lloyd Braun cleverly points out how little the technique actually works (see subject tag).

Work is nothing but more stress and more responsibility as the days go by. We lost a great center manager, and more crap than usual oozes onto my shoulders. I'm like the Iceman at work. Nothing can truly pierce my armor anymore. Customers and co-worker inadequacies just bounce off that puppy like nothing. I had a guy ask me today how I could possibly keep that constant demeanor. I didn't really have an answer then, but with Seinfeld in mind I have the answer now.

If I really let that place influence my emotions more than it already does, I'd be nothing but a puddle of useless goo on the floor. You'd have to clean me up with a straw. Unfortunately, I think that flat-line of emotions carries over after work, as would be expected. Two years ago and before I was an extreme roller-coaster from one moment to the next. Now I just feel really stable and boring.

That stability might be just a shield though. Everyone must have some type of limit where shrugging things off doesn't work anymore. I kinda thought I'd hit that wall last week, but this week has improved slightly. Still, the ongoing issue remains and overall no real difference is evident. I'm starting to have a lot of trouble sleeping when before I could nod off at a moments notice at the end of the day. I drink a whole lot more often than I can remember in recent memory, because I think it helps me sleep, and also because it's that self-medication thing. There will always exist those moments with my love where just a simple conversation makes me forget about all the crap. Or the right song at the right time makes it feel a little bit better.

I hate myself for not writing like I used to. The vicious reality is this: Work is where I spend most of my time and causes almost all of my grief and stress. It's so consuming that the natural instinct is to write about that, however, if I do I'm afraid I'm only opening the floodgates. I'm afraid that I'll start thinking about it all more often than I do instead of trying my best to forget about it. I have no interest in boring everyone else with work crap when I can hardly stand it myself.

"Get a new job!" one might say. Sometimes it's that simple and sometimes it's not. This time it's not. I don't even know what I want to do now. I found something I'm good at, but not what I'd wish to make a lifetime career out of. In my heart and mind I know this is all just temporary. A tiger never changes his/her stripes, and I know deep down I'm the same creature I most recognize myself as. Right now I think I'm just doing what I have to do to make it through this chapter in the overall adventure. It sucks and I hate it, but there are bills to pay and rent to piss away and food to be bought.

Other than that I love life. I love my love and I'm so excited for where we're headed in the next few years. It's good to think about how we're moving up in the world and thinking bigger ranter than going the other direction.

On a final note, everyone is getting older in the family. One grandma is in a nursing home with Alzheimer's and the other lost the war with cancer and is living out the rest of her life at home. It sucks that I can't be closer to be of some comfort, and everything feels so far removed like it's in another place at another time. And yet I don't even know what I would do anyway. Maybe I don't have that grasp on death yet you pick up on later in life. It still feels like everyone lives forever, at least in my head.

It was a cold and restless autumn morning. My friend and I stood side-by-side in the middle of a slightly overgrown field just off Highway 27 and Hayes Street. I nervously adjusted the knife in my coat pocket. The trees off in the distance were alive with color. The leaves had fully begun to change, and the essence of whisper of winter was barely audible on the brisk October wind. A vehicle in the distance. It was loud and coming closer. My friend began to pace uneasily. When I was young I used to run around the backyard at my parent's house. I pretended I was a warrior battling imaginary forces and always winning in dramatic fashion. As I aimlessly shuffled my feet through dead leaves upon the ground, I thought of this.

A white pickup truck emerged over the horizon and turned abruptly onto Hayes Street. Our eyes watched intently as the truck took another sharp turn into the field. It bumped and bounded as it barrelled directly towards us at what felt like 55 miles per hour. Dirt and debris scattered high into the air as the truck tires tore through the Earth. I reached out to my friend in encouragement, but he had already begun moving. Another figure, hidden until now, sprang from the underbrush and fired several shots from a rifle. My friend twitched wildly and fell to the ground dead.

I tried to run. I had no idea where I would run to, but in the end I stood frozen and motionless. I released my grip on the knife and listened to some of the birds chirping overhead. I thought how convenient it would be to suddenly sprout wings and soar amongst them. How sweet to fly away and forget so many sins committed while traveling on two feet. I thought I heard the sounds of bagpipes as the truck smashed into me with unknown force. I have no way of knowing whether the rednecks were actually Scottish, I had experienced something divine, or I had just made the whole thing up in my head. Surely my body was torn asunder and the true source mattered little.

It has been a while since I've written anything. I do still exist! More of a drone and slave than ever, but existing nonetheless.

I'm still the senior project manager at good old FedEx Kinko's. I've been told I'm next in line, along with another deserving soul, for an assistant manager position. Great opportunity since I think I could run that job in my sleep compared with what I'm doing now. Generally we run on the "glue" system. That means we have specialists to run FedEx, front counter, all production machines, computer services, and production management. The glue system suggests that those in those positions stay in those positions and do nothing outside their realm of knowlege. I, however, do all of these things and more. Weekly I am told my assistant manager training will start "first thing on Monday." I'm to learn all the financial back office crap, but it hasn't happened yet. This was projected last fall to happen by this spring. It won't happen. They say it will, but it won't.

Why will it not happen? Well, the reason is going to make me look like a jackass... But, the simple fact is that they have no one that can or is willing to step into my shoes while I do training. I called in sick one day last week and they told me I could never do that again. I mentioned the dirty word "vacation" today, and they said I needed a 6 months notice to take a vacation. Those statements were in jest, but in most situations a hint of truth and reality is buried underneath. I have no confidence in any other co-worker not on my shift to carry on my spirit after I leave for the day. I'm their crutch, and perhaps that is my leverage if ever I choose to be an asshole about it and start barking about it.

So far in my tenure I've just taken the opportunities thrown at me and done my best with them. In the end I think I'm content to do just that. However, it would be nice to slip into the official position I feel like I'm in. I run 75% of all production management (a full-time 9-5 position alone), do notary services, open FedEx and serve as the specialist when the other guy isn't there, I am called away from all my work to process international FedEx shipments because everybody else refuses to learn how to do them, I run the front counter, I slip in to run all production when no one else is there, handle all pickups and deliveries, and generally solve any problems and issues that arise because nobody else chooses to use the brains they were given: "Where is this? How do I do this? What happened with this?" All these answers would be easily arrived at with a little bit of effort.

In the end I get angry when I have to do the jobs of some 3 full-time employees, because I shouldn't have to. I find that I'm fully capable of it, but obviously can't be as thorough as someone who is devoting 8 hours a day to that position. It's insanity. I wish they'd fire 3 or 4 of the useless people and just have me do that many more jobs. I could do it better than they can and it will eliminate plenty of headaches for me down the road. It's getting sad where I really feel like the only person I can rely on is myself and a handful of maybe 5 other people at the most. Everybody else I can count on to have to go back and redo whatever it is they were working on.

I bitch a lot, but somehow manage to laugh a little at work, but come home and really wish I was doing something else. I feel drained and destroyed by this job because of how it turns me off from people and the physical and mental energy it requires. And yet I'm so fucking good at it at the end of the day. Or perhaps it's just that easy of a job and nobody before me has chosen to invest any effort. Who knows.

I know I haven't posted anything in a while, but I've got a great little nugget to share regarding the recent "Holiday Blizzard 2006" here in Colorado (Denver specifically).

Digging around in the Denver community, I read a post regarding a news story reporting the city of Denver was done plowing residential streets. For the record, I still can't tell that they plowed our street at all. It's a slush-heap. Responses to this news posting were chock full of other Denver residents who were in similar shoes (some with attached photos. Here's the link: http://community.livejournal.com/denver/1312554.html

This particular comment by pyrotech_c3h8 made me giggle a lot:

My thoughts? Fuck the city and county of Denver twice. Once the normal way and a second time with an iron stick.

What really pisses me off here is that Denver has NO PROBLEM whatsoever coming by and ticketing cars of residents on a regular bases for "Street Sweeping", the truly horrendous crime of not having a front license plate, or god forbid, parking within 5 feet of your own driveway. They can ticket us all day long, but they don't turn that money around and do something GOOD for the citizens their tax dollars (and penalty dollars) come from.

I read that they claim they have already used a majority of their "Plowing budget" and that's part of the reason they are half assing this removal. What the hell is that, a "Plowing Budget"!? It seems pretty suspect to me that the only budget they are claiming to be low on is the one they really don't feel like going out and doing. Notice how they never run low on their "Ticketing your ass budget" or the "Collecting Taxes budget" or the "Speed Trap budget" the only one that seems to be running low is the one that's an inconvenience to THEM and doesn't afford them any more money. Fuck nozzles.

In answer to your other question, how does my street look? It looks like the ice planet Hoth. Any moment now I expect to see imperial storm troopers and a fucking AT-AT drive by.

Hee hee.

I can be cruel, I don't know why. Why can't my balloon stay up in a perfectly windy sky? I am the muffin. What the fuck is your name? I don't know who I am. When was the last time you had a good feeling about anything? God will not permit this to happen. I have become the monster you were intended to be. I cannot get insurance anymore. The road to nowhere leads to me. All I wish is gone away. Here I am waiting to hold you. I know shit from shinola. She's my mother's sister's girl. I'm coming in your home. Let it be captured in my heart. Would you light my candle? Funny how the cracks don't seem to show. I'm looking for a song to sing. Wild is the wind. Questions in a world of blue. Are you awake?

I don't like Mondays.

Today I had to make a list of my strengths and weaknesses. I have no idea why we all had to do this, but I did it with a smile anyway. I came up with 10 things from each category, and these are they, to the best of my memory.

Strengths:
-Vast knowlege base
-Speed/quickness
-Multi-tasking
-Optimism
-Punctuality
-Flexibility
-Problem solving
-Can do attitude

Weaknesses:
-Passive aggressive
-Bad jokes
-Bad coffee
-Verbose
-Indecisive
-Too serious
-Too nice

That's all of them I can remember at the moment. I tried to take the exercise seriously, but failed when I could no longer think of anything. Either way it was interesting, I suppose, even though I fail to see the point of it all.

No one was there to greet them when it happened. It had been raining for three days straight. A shadowed figure stood stoically. The object has disappeared. I will find out one day. Scattered bits of paper. The journey ended before it even began. A stillness. I haven't been there in years. They actually died simultaneously. Begin transcription. He is made of wires. It is all forgotten. An intense flash. There is nothing to discuss. The steel edge pointed skyward. Screams echoed throughout the night. It is fragile. They were thought to be cured. The old television flickered to life. Suffering and tears. I am often reminded. Another fallen hero. The procession has been stalled. The storm ravages onward (unrelenting and un-abating).

After a crappy day in the trenches at war against the idiots and jerks, the warm and welcoming embrace of sleep is the only thing that stands between myself and a new day. Will tomorrow be more of the same? Will it be painfully worse? In the end I can only remain borderline optimistic that everybody, customer and co-worker alike, will pull their respective heads out of their asses.

All I want to say about today is that there must have been a ton of people out there that had difficulty breathing and bothered by a foul stench.

Proceed unshattered through the empty corridor. A certain uncertainty is necessary. Do not begin to understand. We were born with fear imprinted upon our souls. Breathing naturally is impossible. There is a procedure already in place. What was it that you said? I will become the stars! A separate incident will occur. Kick and scream. My sincerity is disputed. Pay close attention! It is nearly midnight. I rest my weary head beneath a tall tree. Sacrifice. Cold. Ripped to shreds. A false dawn approaches. That there isn't me. With a long sigh they retreat. I was alright. When the telephone rings, you must answer immediately. The solution has transformed. Another airplane crashes. Decrepit. We have lost again.

A very special and happy birthday to my loooove! Today is more exciting than my own birthday! Because you light up my life and you are so beautiful and gorgeous and amazing and witty and you are the most important thing in the world to me! I hope I can help to give you everything you need and more today and every day of our lives together. :) I love you!

Back in Denver from a weekend trip to Illinois for a family wedding. It's never easy to flee the comfort and familiarity of the parental roost. I suppose the distraction and pains of traveling tend to overshadow things to sort of cover up the thoughts and feelings involved. I don't think I'll ever fully enjoy the whole air travel process and everything that is involved.

Anyway, it was good and strange to see a lot of family I haven't seen since before moving to Denver. They all seem so familiar and yet so distant. I suspect the distant feeling is of my own design. During the wedding and reception my love and I wandered about alone most of the time. That seclusion made me feel much more comfortable than if we were happily mingling and socializing. I certainly feel like the outsider and the family member that nobody hears from or knows much about, and I don't think I have the ability to turn that around (but perhaps not, we shall see what happens).

In the end, it was a great visit and a gorgeous wedding. It simply went by way too quickly. It did leave me wondering what will bring me back there again. I can't help feeling like the next trip will as a result of a tragic event that I will not expand upon here. I just hope that lingering feeling doesn't truly manifest.

May I say, on a final note, how wonderful it is to travel with my love. :) I am truly blessed and I think we make a perfect traveling couple (in addition to everything else of course).

The mountain stood tall, formidable, and unforgiving in front of us. As we each surveyed the scenery and secretly pondered our perfect path up the summit, a particularly nasty arctic wind forced me to pull my hood more tightly about my face. Stinging sleet zipped past like little white bullets threatening to draw blood at the slightest contact with human flesh. In a race such as this, however, a little bloodshed at the hands of hardened snowflakes were the least of possible worries. Five individuals of all races, colors, and origins hand-picked to participate in the ultimate race against the elements, the mountain, and each other. I knew most of all how much more than blood I would sacrifice before finally reaching that summit.

The previous opening paragraph likely represents the beginning of perhaps a great narrative that will never ever come to fruition. I literally thought it up in about two minutes. I have no idea what the plot is, who the characters are, and who the audience is. I do this quite often, actually, as is likely evidenced by reading the various blurbs in this journal. I'm good for about a page of narrative before things fizzle or I move on to something else. Maybe I'm just not good at really sitting down and coming up with the concept for a novel. Perhaps I don't have what it takes to do all the work that needs to be done before one even sits down at the keyboard. In the end, maybe my only talent lies in stringing words together?

If I had a plot from beginning to middle to end, and unique and real characters to join me on that journey, perhaps I could write that long and life-altering book I've always dreamed of. Maybe I have too many ideas or the many ideas I have just aren't good enough to me. I find that I can always produce that one good paragraph, and then I run out of gas. I guess it's because I haven't come up with a plot yet. I don't have a map. I don't think I know how.

Suddenly the massive red curtain before me was drawn wide by unseen forces. The blinding spotlights and cheers of a bloodthirsty crowd stretched into infinity before me. As I stumbled and staggered the crashing of cheap liqour bottles smashed somewhere behind me. Somebody in the crowd screamed my true name and applauded as I took steadied myself with a deep breath. I then began my monologue:

"What is most important in life?" I asked metaphorically. "In ages past we humans sought to explore and expand above everything else. A piece of uncharted territory was a piece of destiny begging to be discovered. The very notion that undiscovered lands still existed was cause for great unrest in the hearts and minds of adventurers everywhere."

"In time it came to pass that there was no place left to uncover. Man, woman, and child had eventually settled in every corner of the Earth (hospitable or not)."

"I ask you again. What is most important in life? Perhaps the answer is best left to the individual. I submit that to simply has lived is the ultimate secret to our existence. Disasters and hardships abound in our lifetimes, but what we traverse and conquer will shape our ultimate legacy."

By now I was sweating profusely from the heat of the lights and couldn't see even a foot in front of my face. For all I knew I was alone onstage staring straight into a vast sea of emptiness. No matter what the circumstance, I continued:

"In life you have to be prepared at all times. It is no secret that anything can happen at any time. When that happens you have to be completely ready and willing to accept your final curtain call."

With a 'swish' those immense red curtains fell and closed all around me. In my delusion I merely remember the roar of applause coming from somewhere beyond my vision.

I think I've had quite enough of this widespread heatwave, thank you very much.

A lot of things are different about living in the city. I'm sure I've outlined some of these differences between Illinois in general and Denver in the past. However, I was thinking recently how quite ordinary I must seem to strangers. Earlier today at work, for whatever reason, I was thinking about what it would be like to be able to step outside myself and inspect me. I think if I could do such a thing I'd see a person who looks rather ordinary compared to the general populace around him. I wonder if the diversity of the city makes me blend in a bit more than when I was living in Illinois. Certainly in Illinois, especially outside of Chicago, one can thrown on a Bauhaus t-shirt and look completely out of place. Very few people would even remember Joy Division. And the number of David Lynch fans is quite a bit more scarce. I suppose my point is that here in Denver, at best effort, there are a ton of other people more unique than I am. Or perhaps I'd rather blend in here rather than draw attention to myself. Probably in order to keep the weird people and beggars away, because there are tons of them.

I think I miss that about Illinois. You don't really have to worry much about walking the streets and seeing people who are obviously not homeless asking you for change (while adding one sob story or another to try and soften you up). I always avert my eyes someplace else when walking around Denver because in my head I'm afraid of making eye contact and giving that, "Sure I'll listen to your bullshit" look by mistake. Isn't that sad? But that's just how bad the problem is here. I don't have any prejudices against people and I certainly have plenty of empathy inside me. However, I think something is wrong when people who are dressed better than I am are asking for money. Hey, I don't have any money either. I could use all the change I can get.

Anyway, I'm just rambling. Still sometimes I think it would be nice to feel a little more comfortable in the city. I suppose a big part of it has been living rural my whole life and now living in the heart of a major city. I'm probably still getting used to it, especially the few times when I go out alone. It's always better when my love is with me. She makes me feel very much safe and comfortable even in those moments when I'm a bit weirded out by some dude.

Vacation starts on Friday, and I shall also be 27. :) :) :)

I have been battling some type of cold or sinus thing since Wednesday night. I actually called out of work on Thursday and have been generally sitting around in pain and discomfort ever since. The day/nyquil helps, but I still have this nasty headache and soreness about my head. My back was aching yesterday, and though it feels better today I was unable to get comfortable anywhere yesterday. I'm hoping I can at least take a nap this afternoon and as a longshot be okay to work at least a little bit on Sunday. If I still feel the same tomorrow morning I may just call out again and rest one more day. It's better to call off on a Sunday than a Monday.

The strangest thing is sitting around the apartment in flannel pants and a sweater while we're having these record-high temperatures.