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Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in
Tim Inge's LiveJournal:
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|Sunday, July 10th, 2011|
"Secrets and shadows - whatever they're afraid of, it's nowhere to be seen - which means it's everywhere." - The Doctor
Social networking is far more amazing than people often realize. Perhaps because it has slowly leaked into existence. With the arrival of the internet and email, then sites like livejournal and myspace, and now facebook, the concept has really only evolved with demand, and so it is taken for granted almost as soon as it hits the scene. But think of what we have now. It's something that the world has never had, and few have ever dreamed of. It's not the ability to stay in constant and immediate contact with all of your family, friends, enemies, fans, and miscellaneous faces that you can't place, though that in itself is mind-blowing compared to, say, the pony express. The real value, I believe, is that now, for the first time, almost anyone can keep in touch with the conscious flow of the entire human race. Our collective condition, mood, accepted beliefs, preferences, and dreams can be tapped into, monitored, and contributed to by any citizen of the world with an email account. It is astonishing! Fascinating! Ground-breaking! Earth changing! It's just so.....noisy!
That's why I left facebook. I couldn't take the noise. It was breaking me down. I was glad for a way to keep in touch with old friends, and fascinated by the ability, but for some reason the whole thing felt wrong. Twisted. I held on, though, and happily participated, because in my "offline" life things were a bit stormy. It was difficult to define the source of the storm. Externally, my life was fantastic, and almost always has been aside from a couple of bumps in the road. I could point to a couple of things that I considered lacking, but those could have been easily overcome if I really believed them to be a cause of my deep and burning dissatisfaction. Oh yes, I was dissatisfied. Not with life, or my circumstances, or anything I could point to, but with myself. Over the past few years I've seen myself deteriorate to anger, bitterness, cynicism, even sometimes depression, and I never could but a finger directly on why. I kept it hidden when anyone was around, of course. I could slap a smile and a cheerful demeanor on at a moment's notice.
As I was saying, that's why I continued to play the facebook game, long after I began to find it mysteriously unsettling. It served as another means of distraction; a chance to dance around with the trivialities of life and pretend with everyone else that everything is dandy and we're all having a good time. Slowly an obvious realization began to dawn on me. "Perhaps," I speculated," I'm not the only dissatisfied person on the planet. Perhaps I'm not the only one playing this like a game, and meanwhile just hanging on for dear life." That's when I stopped contributing. I decided to shut up, and watch, and listen. What I finally saw and heard was unsettling. What I finally saw and heard was the truth.
Rising up from beneath the happy, sugar-dusted status updates, the "likes," the LOL's and the smileys, is the rancid stench of mass dissatisfaction. Anger, depression, fear, and misery of all sorts is running through our modern "enlightened" society like a pack of rabid velociraptors, consuming many, sparing just enough to give false hope to the ones who are already being devoured. We are in a serious situation; so serious that very few have the courage to look it in the face, and those that wish to are hushed by the people around them.
We thought that "the answer" could be found in advancement of technology, or pleasure. Now here we are, in a world of magic and power that no one in history ever dreamed of. All appetites can be satiated to the limit almost instantaneously. All the technological marvels of the modern world have become boring and insufficient. Now the human race is running out of things on its "to do" list. The only things that are left are teleportation, time travel, and interplanetary colonization. Sadly, with all of these glorious advances giving the world a new face, people have not changed. Collectively, we are near the pinnacle of what we've thought we could never be. It's the biggest letdown in history. It simply isn't enough.
So this is the real over-arching function of social networking, with all of its legitimate and useful sub-themes. It is a return to the mundane and the trivial, together, to celebrate as many of the "little things" as possible to satisfy a desperate hunger. It is a collection of fans who will give us applause for producing a pulse, because sometimes that's all we feel we can manage. It is a fresh new batch of sand for us all to bury our heads in. We have finally accepted that there is no real truth, and there are no real answers. Fingers in ears, eyes shut tight, we make as much noise as possible to drown out the questions, and we all take part in what we have silently agreed to be the final option: despair.
I couldn't believe in that. I left to kill the noise and to try and find some answers.
|Monday, June 27th, 2011|
It's been well over a year since my last post, and another year since the post before that. I abandoned facebook about 18 months ago, and deleted it altogether about 6 months ago. I have checked my "friend's page" here from time to time, but not too often. Besides that, eTim has abandoned ship.
I packed my bags and left internet-land with good reason, but I think it's time to come back. Very soon it will be time to rev up the ol' journal again. I've been doing some heavy pondering over the past couple of years, chewing on some questions that had me stumped. Answers are beginning to pop up, and as they do they raise further questions that need answering, which then push out the previous answers and their associated questions. I find myself stymied by the limitations of the human mind. At least THIS human mind. I feel it would help me to write stuff down, and this is a fine place for that.
|Tuesday, February 16th, 2010|
|Sometimes I find it hard to say "no"
About half an hour ago, I was really enjoying my day off, working on my car in the mud and sunshine, when my odd neighbor approached me.
Odd neighbor: "Hey Tim, can you do me a favor?"
Odd neighbor: "Can you smell my chair? i think my cats might have gone on it."
Me: "Absolutely not."
I did not know 'til now that every level of every dimension of "wrong" could be hit with a single request. I'm 100% sure that no cats have ever "gone" on my own chair, and yet I have never been enticed to place my nose in it and take a whif.
I admit, for about 1/100000th of a second, I considered preforming this favor in a perfectly normal fashion in order to save him the embarrassment of realizing his error, but sometimes people really need to be embarrassed. I'm sure he is not nearly embarrassed enough.
|Monday, March 16th, 2009|
I have to be fair. In my last post I made a couple of accusatory side remarks about online whiners and people with pathetic lives. Upon reflection, that complaint no longer applies to Livejournal, and only to a very few who might end up reading that post. I investigated the matter, and over the past year there have been a sharp decline in posts, and most of them have been entertaining or contemplative on some level, and a great many have been short, which means I actually read them.
My accusations fall entirely on the shoulders of another, entirely different, online social circle, which I was involved with for two years, up to December of '08, and was sharply reminded of in a conversation with a real life acquaintance a couple of days ago. This social circle resides in the realms of the typical Massive Multiplayer Online Role Playing Game.
These games are interesting for a whole bucketful of reasons which I won't go into. I met a great deal of fantastic people in-game, and made some friendships that still hold today. But, while a great many of the people in these games are pretty cool, many more are the dregs. They are high-schoolers and middle aged women who are completely dissatisfied with life and want the whole world to know it.
I made a fatal error which ruined the MMORPG for me. I pretended to care. I offered my digital shoulder for people to cry on. It was as if I put out a neon sign. People flocked from all over to tell me their problems. I'm not man enough to tell them that I don't care, and that I never did, so I had to wash my hands of it completely. So, a word of advice to all of you who play MMO's: be as cold as you can, because too many of those people aren't there to play the game, they are there to be a pest to whomever allows them to get their claws in.
The sad thing is, even though I quit the MMO scene a few months ago, I still seem to hear from people who are generally dissatisfied with life on an all too regular basis, in the real (non-online) world. Now, I can't cast judgement on all people who are dissatisfied with their lot, because some people's lives really are the pits, but here? In Salida? Salida, CO, is one of the coolest places on this planet. If you can't be at least a little bit happy with things here, you're pretty much screwed.
|Thursday, March 12th, 2009|
I haven't updated this journal in ages, and I'll tell you why. It's because there's nothing to tell. I'm a trash man. I haul trash, and that's it. I get up at a miserable hour, walk bleary -eyed to the shop, kick my truck's tires, fire up the engine, and after climbing in and out of the cab a minimum of 267 times in a single day, I park, walk home, and stare at one of two screens for a few hours before collapsing into bed, getting a good nights sleep in preparation for the next new day, which will be exactly the same as the previous seven hundred days.
I do keep up with this place, though. Oh yes, I read all of your posts. Ok, some of your posts. If they're short. Well...like, I think I read one person's journal, and yes, since you're wondering, it's yours.
That's not to say I don't like my job. I've mentioned it before, several times, because I grow weary of people constantly moaning about their jobs, or co-workers, or school, or lack of a job, or whatever it is people moan about, so ideally I refuse to be one. And yet, when I talk about my job, it's in a moaning tone, not because I mean it, but because it's ingrained in me that that's what people do, and I don't want to start any revolutions, so I play along.
But now that I mention it, why do people complain so much? "I hate my job, I hate the people at my job, I hate my apartment, I hate this town, I hate my life..." You know, no one is forcing you to keep any of those things.
Which brings me to my point, I think. That is, I think it's my point, but then that all might change by the time I'm finished typing. Probably not, though, because I usually grow weary of typing after about ten minutes, at which point, assuming most people care about as much as I do, you won't be reading anymore anyway, so why bother? So, on to the point.
The point is, I'm really truly leaning towards quitting my job. Why? I dunno. I just feel like it, and there's no one here to tell me otherwise. What will I do instead? Well, I've got this thing brewing where I'll actually be making real music for game developers for (a little bit of) real money. I'd be a musician. That sounds rosy, and by rosy I mean sexy, and by sexy I mean, "bring on the ladies, except not the ones who like eating out, because I'm suddenly broke."
But then there's this other thing bouncing around in my head, and it baffles me a bit. I'm not the outdoorsy type. I never have been. I used to spend a great deal of time outdoors, but only because all my friends where horribly outdoorsy, and dragged me into the great outdoors to "have a good time." I've always had a better time indoors, enjoying artificial food, an artificial atmosphere, artificial people, and some artificial adventure transmitted through a screen. But I've recently (involuntarily) stopped taking all things for granted, and I have asked myself "why" I never really enjoyed the outdoors. As it turns out, I have often enjoyed the outdoors. I've often preferred the outdoors, under certain circumstances. The times when I've really loathed nature is limited to the times when people would drag me out to "do something" in it, which was pretty much my whole childhood.
Take backpacking, for a prime example. I hate backpacking. Again, I've asked myself, "why," and I've decided to explore the answer, rather than treating it as obvious, obvious though it may be.
For one thing, Backpacking involves camping, and I hate camping. Why? I can sleep on the ground, so it's not that. It's that I'm always cold. I've camped in warm places, and it wasn't so bad. Why was I always cold when camping? Because I've always gone in my old rotten beat up jeans and army jacket, mocking the jerks in their trendy fancy "outdoor" gear, shivering and ceasing to function all the while. No one needs to spell out the error of my ways. This problem can be solved, and the solution is "get with the program, or stay inside."
The other, and much larger, reason I hate backpacking is that it's hard work with no point. The idea is to move your body and all that is necessary for survival from point A to point B on foot. Why? Because point B is better, for some unknown reason? Of course not. Because point B is the end of the journey? Well if the whole point of the journey is to end the journey, why'd we start the journey to begin with? None of these questions can be adequately answered, which reveals the ultimate truth: the chief end of backpacking is pointless misery.
There is one more reason I always loathed backpacking. People never just SHUT UP when they're backpacking. They always blather on and on about how "great this is, and the other time when we were backpacking, and there's this other backpacking trip I'd like to do, and there was this one guy while he was backpacking..." and on and on and on. Then you arrive at your first camp sight, and it's a circus of, "who's going to get the water? I have the wrong tent poles! Somebody make a fire. I have to take a dump!" As if being in the wilderness suddenly gives you permission to share every aspect of your personal life, including when you have to pinch one off, and exactly where this one will be pinched off. Then you get around to dinner. "Where's the pot? Not that pot! Who's got the rice? I know how to make this one camping meal that's out of this world, but I don't have the ingredients. Have you ever tried this spice on thay dish? By the way, where's the butter? Don't you have the butter? We forgot the butter! Oh well, our stir fry will be burnt, but that's backpacking, and gee isn't it grand!?"
It's about here that I decide I'm having a horrible time and I want everyone to die quickly.
If you've made it this far (and I wouldn't have, so congratulations) and you still care (<---again) you might be wondering, as I am, how I managed to jump so rapidly from quitting my job, to being a starving musician, to the horrors of backpacking. You must take a step back and look at the big picture to see the common thread here. The common thread is bigfoot, obviously. I've been rather enthusiastic about the sasquatch thing for a few years now. Why? Because I think ( and i may be wrong) that buried deep inside this artificial creature of comfort, there is a dormant explorer, who would gladly do without the soft sofa and mindless meals for the thrill of discovery, and because I genuinely believe that there is plenty of things out there to be discovered, bigfoot being only one.
Oh yes, I strongly believe in the squatch, largly on the grounds that people don't get out much. The typical bigfoot scoffer says something along the lines of, "You really believe that there's an 8 foot tall upright walking monkey roaming around America and we've never discovered it!?" and they laugh, because it sounds so silly. People with this attitude are people who have a picture of civilization that smothers every corner of the globe in some way. When they look at a map, they look for the cities, towns, and other tiny dots representing civilization, and the tiny threads connecting them that represent roads, and they don't even see or comprehend the massive spaces between these dots and lines that take up almost the entire page to which they seem to devote so much attention. They don't realize that these spaces represent actual wilderness: a place of trees and grass and animals and peace and quiet and mountain lions digging their merciless teeth into a terrified elk's spinal cord and owls ripping heads off of rabbits. The scoffer sees these places as rare, almost mythological sanctuaries, where as in reality that's pretty much everywhere, save a few small pockets of real estate where humans have decided to do their bustling. Sure, a very small number of people walk through the wilderness, but they always take the designated route, never taking the time to see what's on the other side of this ridge, or up that valley, because there's no trail, and point B must be reached by time X. If something out there wants to remain undiscovered, it can accomplish this quite easily, even (or esspecially, given scepticism) if that thing is an 8' tall gorilla.
So my point, or one of them I suppose, is that I want to go bag me a sasquatch! I know places where I believe them to be, and people don't go there, and I currently have no obligations on my time or money, so I could go there for a month or two and just try my luck, and if I don't find bigfoot, I would most likely find a whole lot of other cool stuff. Not only that, it would help me shake off the crusty buildup of doing what society says I "ought" to do for some reason, like hold a steady job and build up a 401k so that when I finally get around to ending my useless existence at least I'll have money, provided it's still there and worth something. Or even building up a career in the field that I actually want to have a career in, which I will do, but now I potentially have a window of time in which I can do anything I want.
So how do I reconcile this dormant explorer with the active abhorer of backpacking? On review of all the reasons I hate backpacking, I find that they are all problems with solutions. If I was alone, no one would be blathering. If I dressed warmly, I wouldn't be cold. If I went alone, I wouldn't have to get to point B by time X. I could go as far as I wanted, or just not go anywhere. There wouldn't be a point B. I'm the sort that could blow a whole three days just knocking over dead trees, and the next week after that just rolling rocks down hills, and if no one else was there, no one could tell me different. I'll admit, it would get a bit dull if there was no obvious point to it, but that's where the common thread (bigfoot, in case you forgot) comes back in. I could spend this time in an exciting, most likely vain, attempt to finally capture some solid footage of the great american ape.
Will I do it? Probably not, but there's a chance. After all, life only happens to people once, so I might as well go out on a limb and make it interesting. My life, up to now, has been more interesting than most. That doesn't speak so much to the vast excitement of my life as it does to the depressing patheticassy of most. If you're offended, you're guilty. However, I see a danger of possibly slipping into the American groove of dim-witted comfort and security, and this worries me. I feel I may have to make a drastic move such as this in order to shake off these looming bonds.
We shall see.
|Thursday, January 15th, 2009|
It seems that my default userpic has been replaced with a red haired chick in a checkered shirt.
Time to change my passwords, I suppose?
|Monday, June 16th, 2008|
|Another day, another dime
The first person I spoke to today was a woman who waddled onto her deck at 6 AM and wanted me to relocate her trash can. At least, I think that's what she wanted. It was hard to hear her over the deafening, blinding, and mind numbing facts that she was morbidly obese (I put her at about the 350+ lb mark) and wearing nothing but a tiny green tank top and a thong.
I normally don't mind (anymore) if people are morbidly obese. I can look past that. Combo it with the tiny green tank top and the thong, though, and that just tears it. I told her I had no jurisdiction over toter placement (which might have been a complete lie) and ran to the familiar safe haven of my truck cab, where I coaxed Luverne into throwing down the fastest quarter mile ever performed by a trash truck.
A later stop brought me to the house of a large family who were temporarily living without the convenience of indoor pluming. Bless their hearts. No problem for them, though, the clever little buggers. They just rigged up a toilet seat to fit the trash can and threw up some cardboard walls around it. Outhouse in 5 minutes. Of course, I only pieced all this together after I dumped the can (which was just sitting innocently by the road like every other can) saw the contents, and then observed the rest of the makeshift facilities tucked neatly in the corner, ready for another week of action, it would seem.
I wanted this job. I sought it out. When all is said and done, I'm still enjoying it. I'm not second guessing myself for an instant. Sometimes, though, I want to throw off the gloves, leave the truck idling by the road, and just walk away.
Probably another half a year or so and I'll have had my fun, and I'll move on.
|Tuesday, May 27th, 2008|
|Dead end hearse, dead end job
I looked at the new prospective hearse last Friday. The owner raved about it's "mint," "perfect," "beautiful" condition outside of the possibility that it might need some transmission work. Having seen it from a distance a few times, I believed him. It really is a stunning car. If you don't get too close.
His speculation on possible transmission work somehow turned into a blown engine. That tacks an extra $4k onto the price tag. His definition of "mint, perfect, and beautiful" somehow translated into two rusty holes in the body and a shoddy repair job on an obviously once-smashed rear quarter panel. The interior was nice.
He took $500 off the price tag, landing us at a firm $3500. I passed. So, I obviously got a little too excited, but oh well. This particular car is still #3
on my list of cars to own someday, but it would be way more than I can chew right now.
The trashing industry is going strong, but I'm starting to think that I've had my fun with it. There's dissension amongst the management, making the job much more difficult for the drivers. Basically, there's two guys doing the same job right now, so one guy does nothing while the other one Barney Fifes around making sure everyone is abiding by every last letter of the trashing law. Since you can't bend over to tie your shoe without breaking at least 7 obscure rules, this makes everyone angry, including myself, and I don't get angry often, and when I do I don't enjoy it. In the past week I've been verbally slapped on the wrist three times for minor rule breakage, and now I'm beginning to feel that I've been blacklisted, in spite of the fact that I'm one of their best employees. I'm not alone. I think most of the drivers are currently on the blacklist, even though we're not having accidents and our production levels are high.
I'm thinking of moving on to towing, which has also been on my list of things to do someday. I called the good folks that run the tow service down the road and now I'm wondering why I didn't look into it before. More pay, less work, less smelling trash all day. I'm still not 100% sold over, as there are many things in the trashing business that I enjoy. I've come to love the musclebound feeling. I like the tips and free drinks left by appreciative costumers. I really like smashing appliances and furniture. The little kid in me hasn't gotten over the awesomeness of the trash truck.
We shall see.
|Thursday, May 22nd, 2008|
I spend a good deal of time listening to the radio during the day, and a part of that is the news. Much of the news these days has to do with things pertaining to fuel prices.
Disturbing, if you are into letting those sorts of things disturb you.
According to the news, the scooter industry has taken off, increasing 25% in the past few months, and the Toyota Prius (rated the most efficient car on the U.S market) is by far the #1
selling car out there.
Aside from the news, I've personally noticed a drastic decrease in traffic. I was in Denver about two weeks ago, and about 30 hearses cut straight through the middle of town during rush hour and were able to maintain a steady rate. There was only one real block in traffic, and that was us. That was drastically different from three years ago, the last time I was in Denver during rush hour. Maybe we just got lucky, I don't know, but I've also noticed a big difference in the Salida area. For one thing, I've only seen four motor homes so far this year. That's down from about eighty dozen of previous years.
Now, after all that, allow me to state that I don't really care. It occurred to me today, however, that most people do, and pretty much all the caring you hear is people pounding their fists over the fortune they're paying to fill up their vehicle of choice.
"But what about the environmentalists," I thought to myself today. "Surely they are rejoicing. Have they not been crying out for the American people to make this very change for years now?" So I came home today and did a little research. I found only two places that mentioned this environmental advantage to higher gas prices, and both were well-read blogs that were not even particularly focused on issues of environment. I found no mention of it in any of the major environmentalist websites that I looked at.
So what's the deal? Did I just not look in the right place? Where is this flag of victory and why aren't environmentalists waving it? They are finally winning this hard fought battle, AND THEY AREN'T EVEN NOTICING!!!! That strikes me as being a little creepy.
Of course, I have my own answer, and if I typed it all out it would lead from my own (almost entirely correct) analysis of the human psyche, to the function of the human as a spiritual being within the physical world, to the influence of unseen spiritual forces on society, and I might top it off with the pending collapse of civilization and an end to the world within the next 20 years that has nothing to do what-so-ever with global warming. But really, I have more important things on my mind. Namely: dinner.
|Monday, May 12th, 2008|
|I got the fever!!
Hearse fever! I got it bad. I always thought I would remain a one-hearse man. Why would I ever need two? And one is already a handful. But then I called owner of the funeral home that had the 1967 Cadillac Superior 3-way that I've always loved since I was 14 just to ask him what ever happened to it. He said he still had it and recently pulled it out of service. He said he'd like to sell it for $12,000. Thinking I was safe, I said, "The best I could give you at this point is $4,000." He said, "I'd take $4,000." Turns out he was about a week away from donating it to the local museum.
There's no way I can pass this up. It's the first hearse I've ever loved. It will sit in rented garage space until I get King Louie finished and restock the funds to get it back to mint condition, which will take very very little. Once it gets there, I will put the King in the garage (he's going to be one stud of a hearse) and use the Caddy for a driver.
|Wednesday, April 9th, 2008|
It's been a long time coming. King Louie's finally getting the attention he deserves. Here's how it's hopefully going to pan out:
Between now and May 9th: Custom wheels, find proper mirrors and (I hope) a new windshield.
May 9th, 10th, & 11th: Hearsecon! Hopefully the largest gathering of hearses Denver has ever seen.
May 12th: If I found a windshield, get it installed.
May 14th: Take The King to the painter dude's shoppe, where he will commence the long labor of sanding, patching, drilling, and whatever he needs to do. Oh, and painting.
Mid-august (yes, it will take that long): I will be broke, and sitting behind the wheel of one of the hottest cars in the
I've finally decided on a mix of black and bright green. Mostly black on bottom, and probably mostly green on top, but intermingled with dazzling graphics of some sort. Or maybe the green will be in front and the black will be in back. Bah, I don't know yet, but dazzling graphics are a must. No flames though. Flames are overused, and imply things about speed and power that I can't deliver. No skulls, either. Skulls are cool, but the general idea of death is already implied without having to spell it out in skulls.
|Monday, April 7th, 2008|
|A quip from the local Salida newspaper
"Local wins Monarch eventWith 24 kayakers, 10 rafters and two riverboarders, the third annual Kayaks on Snow Boatercross Saturday attracted hundreds of spectators at the Freeway run.
Monarch Mountain Guest Service employee Phil Gamache of Salida won first among kayakers, receiving a Wavesport Project 45 kayak.
Jacob Weiss of Colorado Springs was second among kayakers, winning a Monarch Mountain season ski pass. Chad Owens of Pueblo, who won the race in 2006, was third and received an Electra cruiser bike. Tim Inge of Salida was fourth."
How embarrassing. "Look at these three guys! Look at how awesome they are! Check out the cool crap that they won with their amazing skillz! Oh, and then there was that what's-his-face guy who lost. He's a loser. I can tell, you see, because he lost, and that's what losers do."
I'm not whining because I think the paper should sing my praises for getting a meager fourth place. No, the paper has done me complete justice. I whining because I had the victory in my grasp, and it was cruelly ripped from me within yards of the finish line. The event was more or less like bobsledding, only in kayaks. I battled through three qualifying heats undefeated, uncontested. The final match up was a bit stiffer. I got off to a slow start, but worked my way from the rear to the front of the pack, and I had the lead up to the final straightaway, at which point the front three inches of the boat behind me made contact with the rear three inches of my boat. We both went sideways, handing first and second to the guys behind us. I had the worst of the incident and took fourth.
Hey, I got my money's worth. I got to be in all the races. It wouldn't be so bad if the prizes weren't so good. A brand new kayak is worth about $1100. The bike is worth about $600. The ski pass is worth about $300. Fourth place, in keeping with tradition, is worth an afterthought in the local paper.
|Thursday, January 24th, 2008|
|Conversation with the landlord
Me: "Eighty isn't terribly old in my family. We usually make it to somewhere between 95 and 100."
Landlord: "Is that right!? You should really count your blessings!"
Me: "I'll count them 'til I'm about 85, then I'll start counting the days."
It was about this time that I remembered that my landlord is 86.
|Sunday, October 7th, 2007|
|Three months in
In just one week I'll be able to hold my head high and claim the honorable title of "trash man." Seven short days and I will stand tall among the few in this country who are man enough for the job. On October 14th, according to Waste Management, I'll be through my probation period and I'll have officially "made it."
You see, if any person manages to flatten a garage, obliterate someone's lawn gnomes, run over a pet, or do any other minor or significant damage with their truck or related equipment, the are immediatly fired without question (even if it's not their fault) and they will be deemed unworthy.
How could one be deemed unworthy to be a trash man, you ask? Most people don't give much thought to the task of trashing. I didn't. You go around and pick up trash, how hard can it be? In all honesty, that's pretty much it, but the task is greuling, the hours are long, the mornings are early, and the equipment is heavy and made of unyielding steel.
The driving is considered some of the most intense professional driving out there. There's so much truck to keep track of, it's amazing how quickly a corner of it can suddenly become intimately aquainted with a car or a house, esspecially since a large amount of the driving is done backwards.
It also turns out to be a fairly dangerous job. The death toll in Waste Management for 2007 (so far) is 23 employees and 16 civilians. The good thing is, if I die on the job, I'll be known all over the country. Tens of thousands will hear my name read aloud, as WM holds me up as a shining example of why one should NEVER disregard rule 638.56-D
Personally, I'm rather enjoying it. I've got my CDL and I've been trashing on my own for a coupe of weeks now. My truck (308436 to the company, but I call her Laverne) is treating me well so far. I'm down to 168 lbs and the six-pack is thinking about making an appearance for the first time in my life. Unfotunately I landed myself in the lowest-paying hardest-working crew in the state, but I'm not greedy, and living in Salida rather than Grand Junction or Denver more than makes up for that minor flaw.
I just sat here for 3 minutes trying to come up with a conclusion to all this. There isn't one. I'm out of school, and this isn't being graded. Three minutes wasted.
Speaking of school, what's with all those people who, when a kid complains about school and homework, are always there to further their discouragement and negative outlook on life with, "Oh just wait 'til your grown! You'll be thinking of how easy you had it back when all you had to worry about was school and homework." I never believed that as a kid, and it turns out I was right. School sucked. School is basically the same as going to work except you don't have a choice about what you want to do, and you're not getting paid.
Homework is downright immoral, and I belive that with the entirety or my soul. If I ever have kids they aren't doing homework at all ever, period.
Pile adolescnet insecurity on top of that and it's amazing that some of those kids turn out to be decent adults, and not surprizing at all that most of them turn into surplus. Adolescent insecurity was no party. I guess we all have to go through it, and mine was probably easier than most, but I'm still glad it's long over. Drinking root beer and playing video games is much more fun than sitting around trying to figure myself out.
|Thursday, August 2nd, 2007|
|Enjoin Michael Stewart's Camping Futures!
Good day Friend.
I have Camping bus and Motorcycles of high speed sports for sales, and in the attached copies you will see the futures. If you are interested your request will be guaranted to be offered to you .
There is a transport agency here for the delivery from here in BENIN to your country. I enjoin you to see the photos of my Camping futures.
Thank you i awaits your reponse.
Michael Stewart seller.
Finally, an email that isn't announcing my good fortune with UK's 13,000,000,000,000 pound lottery.
So, I guess if you ever want to buy a crystal ball that shows the future of the motorhome industry, Michael Stewart is the man to call.
|Wednesday, July 18th, 2007|
|Saturday, July 14th, 2007|
|And the winner is....
They were much more pro-active in hiring me, and they're starting me at 0.50 an hour more than the normal starting wage. The only part of this job I'm not looking forward to is the 5 am start time. I'll get used to it, and I'll get off work by 1 or 2, which leaves plenty of daylight for kayaking, motorcycling (and I DO want a crotch rocket ;P), sledding, evenings for music, and so on.
Also, Waste Management is holding my financial hand through the rest of the CDL aquisition quest, and they'll let me borrow a truck to take down to CO Springs for the testing. AND they're buying me a brand new pair of steel-toed boots, which means the next time I kick a dog I can actually do some damage.
Speaking of dogs, I've seen roughly 389,562 dogs since moving to Salida, and about 97% of them are completely hideous, and exatly all of them are completely useless. I used to like dogs, then I disliked dogs, then I got attacked by a large muzzled dog (which was a very weird experience), and now I loath dogs. I can tell the feeling is completely mutual. Every time I see a kid walking up to a dog to pet it, I have to keep myself from killing the dog first just to be sure it doesn't take off the kids face. What's with people keeping these instinctively ferocious dogs as pets these days? It's some sort of fad, to have these beasts which have a "killer" reputation, and saying "oh but this one's nice." I'm going to have to side with the Chinese on this one: it'd be alot nicer over rice with soy sauce.
Other than the dog thing, I couldn't be more pleased with Salida. The scenery is fantastic, the people are friendly, the grocery store is within walking distance (as opposed to the 60 mile drive required from Lake City), Colorado's best whitewater park is 2 blocks away, the potential for motocycles (on and off road) is limitless, I hear the music scene is very active, and I'm anticipating excellent sledding in the winter.
Hopefully I can dust off the olde friend-making skills.
|Hand cuffs or banana peels
I had 2 job interviews yesterday, both of which went exceptionally well. One was for "Civilian Detention Officer" for Chaffee County Sheriff, the other is for "Chaffee County Garbage Man."
Detention Officer duties would include watching over and taking care of the needs of up to 105 inmates, ranging from first time DUI's to maximum security murderers and the like. It would also include working only 3 shifts a week and getting large amounts of free time, but not much money. I also really enjoyed the people I would be working with.
Garbage Man duties would include driving a garbage truck (booyah), hoisting garbage, getting ripped, huge benefits, paid vacations, and getting generally wealthy. It would also involve 40-50 hours a week of my time.
So what should I do? Det. Officer would free up all sorts of time to do stuff like, say, music, but would not afford me enough money to buy the equipment I need to really get into composition. Garbage Man would get me the money to get into music, building and improving the hearse empire, buying motorcycles, etc, but not much free time. Which job sounds better as said to an attractive female? Which would be more fun? What should I do!!??
Cast your votes.
|Thursday, June 7th, 2007|
As far as I know, two terrorist attacks have been thwarted this week, though at least one of the conspirators is still loose. I'm a bit rusty on the facts, 'cause the news channels don't seem to be speaking much on the subject.
Why? Because Paris Hilton is in jail, sort of!!!!!
Seriously, if that's what the American public wants to hear, then the American public sucks. I'm embarrassed.
|Monday, February 19th, 2007|
|Fame and Fortune
Someone used one of our songs on their film that they did for a film festival. It's kinda dumb, pointless and boring, but I'll take what i can get.
Our song is the one that plays during the unpleasant conversation around the dinner table.
It's getting lots of 5 star ratings from the indy film enthusiasts. Is there something redeeming about it that I'm just not seeing? Oh, the music, of course!