What Makes a Man?

I've noticed a somewhat disturbing pattern in some of my friendships. You know, the ones worth keeping. It starts off really solid. And the friendship grows and becomes better, and then. Well, it is repulsed. It would not worry me as much were it not a pattern. I can tell you three or five different instances of said occurrence. They are all crazy different people. I am the common denominator. The problem? It makes me think that maybe I should keep to myself better. More. More better? I guess I am just better in small doses. Or maybe I need a psychologist.

"Better to have flown once than to have never flown at all". A good friend of mine said that. Specifically about flying. Would not want to decontextualize it or anything.

It's funny, the stuff a person believes about themselves.

Confusion

I was going to write something crazy profound. You know, like always. But I got distracted and learned that somebody beat me to it. I'm quite excited at the moment. And tired, and confused. These tabs aren't helping. Who invented tabs? fools. This morning, I cut my finger. Maybe? I think something got stuck in it. If so, it is still there. I don't know how it happened. I wasn't there. But then there was blood. And customers. And confusion all on me. There wasn't enough blood to be terrifying, and they didn't make mention of it, so maybe they didn't notice, but I had been up for 33 hours or something, and could figure out why there was blood.

Welcome to my life.

I was going to write something along the lines of life as story, because it is. It wasn't very happy, to be honest. Ended badly. In my mind anyway. But, my favourite author ever has something coming that is far better than anything I could make up on the spot. I was browsing some of his internet dabblings, and was inspired somewhere in there. There is a world, a real world, that really needs saving. I shouldn't even need to ask what I'm doing. And there is so much to do. Too much to do.

I was chatting with a guy. I used to think us humans were kind of... dirty I guess? Not right. Not a thing good inside. I didn't delve too deep into this, I just let it be. I knew I was saying I was terrible too. I didn't think I was, but I had to be. I guess that is a way you could think of it. In Blue like jazz, Don says "something inside me…caused Him to love me." What is the point of saving a world that doesn't have any good in it? Abraham pleaded with God over cities so corrupt that they could only find one righteous person. They got him out, then destroyed it. Anyway, this guy feels that way. He said that he puts all of his trust in that bit, in that hope that we aren't all bad.

I know the feeling will fade again, and I'll be bored working, and wish I wasn't born to work dumb jobs and do stuff everyone else has done for years of years. But right now. Right now, I need some sleep. But in the morning, We can go save the world.

You could save us all

What am I doing?

I've been asked why I have two jobs. I tell them that I don't know. I don't really. I think it was for school or something. Another reason might be that I want to see if I can. Waking up early to jump off a bridge and then working that night with a breakfast meeting the next morning is not a good idea. Working 30 plus hours in a weekend is not a good idea. But I can do it. They brought it, and I conquered.

Hurrah.

I asked some guy if he wanted his two pennies of change. He told me to keep it. But he didn't stop there. He continued, saying that if I saved them all up, by the time I was ninety, and worked there all my life ( at this point I said 'of course') then I would be able to go out and by myself a new bicycle. Then he went out the door. I laughed to myself. I didn't really know what else to do.

Another, more different guy was in last night. He asked me where I got that fabulous head of hair. I assumed it was because he was balding. I told him my mother gave it to me, and I loved it very much. He dwelt on it for a while, then wandered the store for a while. I ignored him and did stuff like I was supposed to. He came over to the hot dogs and started asking about spotted dick, or something like that. I told him we didn't have any. He told me he was only teasing. I knew, and let him in on it. But still he was raving about this dick. I played along. He walked around my store again and came back, telling me about how he was taking a plane the next morning. or something like that. I didn't really hear, but nodded in agreement. It doesn't really matter if I hear them. Nodding is polite? Anyway, when he was finally ready to pay, we did the whole cashier takes his money thing. He asked me if he could take me home with him. I told him that would be fantastic, but I had to stay and work. Not even for a days pay? I'm pretty sure everyone would yell at me if I left. So he left. A few minutes later, the pieces fell together in my head, and I realized his orientation might be a bit different than mine.

Oh dear.

There are some stories. I feel a bit better. But still. What am I doing? If I'm doing this just to see if I can, there is the possibility I can't. I increasingly don't want to. What you do stems from who you are. But...Reading back over the past, I really like my writing, even though I hardly ever like it when I am writing it, and I have to stick to the plan.

What makes someone 'something'?

Chance to explain

I have a plan. A very boring, dull plan, but still, it is a plan. I won't stick to it though. I just have to stop doing things. I can make it through if I only have one or two things to do. easy peasy. But the real plan that I need to happen is me on a vacation.

In my cadre, we are reading a book about some guys take on life. I love it. And even if the others don't, they might be discovering some of my motivations or inspirations or both. Like my dream to be an expert geologist...I mean. Never mind.

Yesterday, I woke up late from a fourteen hour sleep (I always wake up late.) and was still super tired I went to element, but no one was there. I sort of napped at the church for a while. sort of. eventually, it is eleven and I am sleeping. Then it is two thirty and I am awake. And three thirty finds me still awake. I refuse insomnia. Straight up. But, an hour and still nothing, so I did some things for another hour. like eat pound cake and drink chocolate milk. Four thirty I was sleeping again, six my alarm went off. seven I woke up late. again. I was supposed to be at work or something. I was ten minutes late or something. I'm late for almost every morning shift. I was still tired though. I described it to a couple people as being jet lagged, but I didn't get to go anywhere. What day is it? Forty something days left.

But I go bungee jumping in a few days. There are cooler things, but not right now.

The elephant

I have a friend who describes how her brains works as something like standing beside a train that is going full speed, and she sees all these images and ideas and thoughts passing by as quickly as a train, and she just picks one at random and speaks it. That's kind of what I do here.

I don't think I have ever let myself get to this sorry a state before. I've worked a few nights in a row now. The weekend I have only had naps, and Haven't mustered much better since. My body is not accustomed to sleeping enough. Which is great. Four or five hours, and then I'm up. 8 hours is such a waste anyway. Eventually, I just won't sleep, and will have excessive amounts of time on my hands. If I thought my body could take what it is taking now. I was playing some game this morning (you know, when I should have been sleeping) and I would fall asleep whenever I closed my eyes. I got my nap in, and that kept me going for a while, but then... Who told me I could do this? That I wanted to?

I would sleep more, but I need more hours. I want to do things. I want to learn to drive. Play music well. Make that stuff I got worth while. Be a godly man. Clean my perpetually unclean house. Keep my friends. They aren't easy to keep when you can't see them often. These are mostly time management problems. I think. But if not sleeping can correct my lack of organization...

I pick dates about a week away from whenever I am, and that wil be when things get better. Life will be what I want it to be. I just have to wait. I don't think that is true though. Time for a different approach. Yeah.

Yeah.

Nutmeg

Most of the time I pass up sleeping because I have something to write here. But this time, I figured I should be sleeping, but I'm not for some reason. So I'm don't have any point in this. Sometimes I try, but I'm not sharp enough. So I will just write to you.

I've been working too much. Today was beautiful. Is beautiful. If the weather was like this everyday, I can't tell you how much I would explode with joy. I like days as pretty as this one. And summertime. And having time to chill, but not incapable of making stuff happen. Finishing tasks and such. And this guy who is singing to me now. And Don. I need to meet Don. I also like adventures.

But, if everyday was like today, weatherwise, I wouldn't have known anything else. Anything to make me grateful for this. If I didn't work like a bee, I wouldn't appreciate time off so much. I've been there, and I didn't.

Baha. I can't get over the weather. It's so relaxing. Slow sunsets, the smell of barbeque. I told Michael that I should run off and join some commune, where I don't need to work. He didn't seem approving. Probably because I told him there would be drugs. And that it was a hippie commune. They do drugs, right?

Don said something about God speaking earth, but us finishing his sentence, resulting in how things are now. No time to be fancy. Maybe things could be different. They were meant to be. But the kings like how it is. What can the pawns do?

I'm not making sense.

Run like a Coward

So, I was at work (I live at work) and was rather grumpy because I couldn't get anything done. I know I only have a job because of customers, but it doesn't matter how much they like me. It matters how much I get done, and how well I do it. And the next person is somewhat hosed when the person before them is behind. That's most of my drive. Getting other people hosed isn't cool in real life. Blocked goals, leading to anger, or something like that.

I was cleaning the oven, which I'm alright at by now. I don't have to think about it, so I think about other things. Like how I am going to be adventuring in June, and how I'm going bungee jumping soon, and about some sweet expensive stuff (not really expensive for what they were. Fantastic deals, in my somewhat unprofessional opinion, but someone more qualified and sales-esk said so. Just expensive for my budget of do-not-spend-money-you-fool.) that I love. About, maybe, skydiving. Sky diving is way cooler. Just ask anyone.

I was speaking with Laura about how cool sky diving is. And expensive. She was saying that the first time you go, you are strapped to a professional, just in case. We joked about him cutting you lose when things went wrong. It was funny. I still think it is. I imagined myself being cut lose, and just falling. Nothing you could do. Or maybe there is. Sky diving would be an easy way to die. It got me thinking to how someone would live after such an experience. At least, in the immediate time after. Life would be a gift. Beautiful. Every decent opportunity that came, taken. I decided I want to live like that, so I really have to jump off something. Or maybe I could just start now. Live like there is no tomorrow.

Once again, another not too new thought with Werner, while he should have been sleeping. It seemed profound at 3 in the morning though.