Progress

Today they made me order things. For a long time. They said 'Werner, we believe in you. You can do this'. I told myself I could do this. Then they gave it to me. It was terribly boring. Whoever did it last left a mess. After a few hours, and then another few hours, I went and made food. It felt really good. I imagined I was one of those gourmet chefs, with all those little tools they use for everything, never still, always adding something to their work of art. I felt like art. Some song from some movie was in my head, so I was humming it. It was all so perfect.

Just like me, they like to be, close to you.

It's strange how time works. I have no understanding of it's true intricacies. Everytime I take a step forward, I wish I was where I came from. I only step where I want to go, but this happens anyway. I thought leaving sandwich artistry was a great idea, but I'm thinking it would have been better if I stayed. Food at slevin? Ridiculous and stupid. Now it is some magical art form, some mystical dance I perform for an audience unaware.

I want to go forward. Somewhere. I really do. But... What if I'm going the wrong way?

Along came a Spider

I've been thinking a little bit. Only a little bit. Here are some of these thinks.

Well this one is a conclusion. I now know why driving drunk and driving sleep deprived both fall under impaired driving.

Why haven't I eaten that chocolate I got for Christmas yet?

Why did I ask for slippers?

Ahem. Remember that book? It came up in those thinks. I am having trouble expressing what I want to, so I am going to pretend I am someone else, asking me questions. So, how is that book coming? Well, I don't really think it is much of one. What? Why is that? Calling it a book right now would be like calling a pile of sticks a house. You could make something out of it. You could make anything out of it. That needs planning. 'Make a book' is almost vague enough to make it work. I am just realizing how raw it all is. How do babies grow out of eggs?

Life seems simpler when it doesn't matter where you land. High is just as good as low. You've got bets on black and red. You cannot lose, so relax. It's okay. Just let go.

I have a friend who writes. He recently wrote about how who you are trumps what you do. I've have had these thoughts come through this mess before, but he comes from a place where he knows who he is, or at least met together a few times. Where whatever he does cannot take away from that. My base looked a bit more like, I don't really think I know me, and now what I do won't help me or anyone else find out who that boy is. It was frustrating. I'm not sure where I am coming from now, or how I take that now. I'm not overly concerned.

It is funny, the things that change how you see things. Have you ever played starcraft? I live to serve.

Riddle Me This.

Every job I have ever had I have hated at one point or another. I haven't had a lot of jobs. I tell my friends I look terrible on paper. Let us see. I was a paper boy for a year, maybe two. I worked at Mcdonalds for six months. Then I worked at Subway for eight and a half months. Fast food and paper boy. Looking good hotshot.

Of these jobs, I have vented about most of them here. Maybe somewhere else. I really don't want to do that again. And this one seems unique. This comes from my highly experienced employment record. I now work at 7-11. Add "convenience store" or maybe "sales associate" to that list of awesome resume. How do I say this?

I hate going to work. I don't mind being there, and I don't mind leaving. The customers aren't too bad. Some of them stumble around. The other people who work there don't really affect my time there. It is really only a one person job at night. Oh, I work at night. I just hate going to work. I get stuck in how much I really don't want to go to work. I think stuff, like if a car hit me, or I slipped on the ice and broke my arm, it would not be too bad. I would not have to go to work.

I do not want to vent, just understand. Why? Why do I think it so terrible? I hypothesized that maybe it was the people. One girl is grumpy, but I realized she is always grumpy. Sucks for her. Another lady freaks out a lot, but she tries to be nice, and that's what matters. "Freaks out" is highly exaggerated. As in I mean swears-and-complains-about-many-things. The manager is nice enough. The night guy who taught me how to do everything at night is very likable. He is a talker. Every second person who comes in at night asks where he is, or if he is there. I haven't really worked with anyone else. There is one lady that I assoiciated with another lady, who I worked with at Subway, and a Philippino lady who reminds me of my old Korean boss. Why? Why this hate?

That is all.

Sometimes you can't make it on your own.

I don't think I can dance. Peninsula united was last night. This stuff takes a lot of set up. Good golly. But we did it. I would like to think it was a success. There was a dance party type shindig afterwards. Heanok's brother, Sammy, was the DJ. Disk jockey. I tried. Really, I did.

Cats are very strange. I would not say I am a cat person. I would not say I am a dog person. But, if there is no one else to hang out with, I have but little choice. This would be so much easier if they could talk. Maybe people wouldn't like their pets so much.

I work at 7-11 now. I work their today. I don't think I like it a lot, but I don't really know yet. Once, I thought working there would be a great job. I was not very old. And did not work there.

If I were literate, I would write complete sentences. And full paragraphs. And maybe even make sense. Then I would tell great tales that would inspire all you knew of them. It really is to bad. If I were literate, I probably would not work at a glorified corner store.

One day.

The Times They Are a-Changin'

I hope that ends well. I have a friend that I really did not know for a while. Like, some of my friends knew him. We would be in the same place sometimes, and those people who knew him would be there, and I'm with my friends too, so I could be whoever. I don't get to know people crazy well in groups. Groups offer casual observation of people you don't know, I guess. See how they react, what they do. You don't know who they are. Even if they do talk all the time. Like him. He missed his bus, so we walked into Sidney, and waited twenty minutes for the bus, just chillin' and talking. He might be convinced to get a job. I find that the best times I have with people are just me and someone else. I reflect happily on those times almost every time.

Matthew told me to write a book. Three months without a job, I asked him frequently about stuff. That's vague, and too bad. So I started transcribing what I had written in and old beat up notebook into text form. I wanted to anyways. I was scared the book would get soaked through with rain and torn apart by savage cats, and that it would all be lost. Today I wrote the last of what I had in the book on to the computer. Forever digitalized. Then I started moving the old blog posts into the same file.

Things were better back in the day. So much better. I was ridiculously sad. Nostalgic might be what they call it. I talked with a friend about this. She totally agreed, but had to get back to studying.

When I think these thoughts, some of me always thinks about how, one day, I will look back on today and wonder what happened to all those good times. How, maybe, I should be enjoying now like I enjoyed then. I read an article in a magazine somewhere about a lady who actually could not forget. She remembered, vividly, almost like reliving it, her entire life to that point. She said it was very distracting. She also said that, yeah, it actually was better back in the day, it isn't just a dumb saying. Today will be back in the day a year or two from now.

I'm thinking about doing something that I think will be really cool with this, but I don't want to say I am, and then not. And saying I will do something has not stopped me from not doing it before, so. Wait and see.

You have to fix him

What if how everything works is wrong? Or at least how I think it works is wrong. That would be shocking. Stunning. Fan-flippin-tastic. Life was boring two hours ago. I applied for a normal job, got an interview, took the interview, and am waiting for a phone call, but that is hardly exciting. I think it fits under "life two hours ago". In some things, I know almost nothing, and in others I am nearly a master. Or I hope I am. I could not tell you what those things were, but they must be there. This is why I cannot prove things. How about we take all those things, and throw them out the window? Sound good? We can start fresh. I can start fresh. Do it right. What right? Life. I can be, but so can rocks. I can live, really live. Now, what if television made your life less boring? Is that weird? Is that sweet? Is that sad? I do not know.

The restart button thinks he is ten years old.

Grease Buckets

They are trying to teach me to speak effectively. That means not rambling. I enjoy rambling. It is what I do. Effective speaking requires that you only say things that relate directly to your objective. All of this means I am not a very effective speaker. Good thing I am not speaking.
There is a really cool guy who goes to my church. His name is Trevor. He is getting up there in age and is really funny and has a thick accent so you really have to listen to hear what he is saying. He walked over to me and asked what I was going to tell him. And we are off. We talked about jobs, what I like to do (I need a better answer for that one), spiritual gifts, service, and prayer and plans and such. I wish I had the right words.
He said something I had never heard before. He said that if I don't have a plan, the devil does. Or something like that. It was in relation to morning devotions, about how it is vitally important to connect with God every morning, how when we don't and do the stuff we always do, someone else ...gah. You know? Ha. He drew it up in such a way that I thought of those super hero movies. How the bad guy tries to turn those who aren't the hero to the bad side. If you just spoke with captain fantastic and dr horrible tries to tell you lies about your hero, you know it's garbage.
So, devotions. Do them. And don't let me be a hypocrite.