Take out for taxes and my first paycheck was 75.07 for 10 hours of work creating basically, 7.51 per hour
3 of it went to cashing it 20 of it went to lunch of which I spent 10 on myself 30 of it went to take out for dinner of which I had a wonton or two and bites of each thing
43 dollars in one day converts into five hours that went to expensive food and over 50% of my assets (overshadowed by ridiculous amounts of over draft and credit charges) and 1 hour got to spend on myself for a burrito and a Sobe. Roughly 6 hours in essence got spent in roughly 6 hours. Every hour I do not work is an hour that gets spent in this case. I hope this pattern does not continue.
With this set of circumstances, is it any wonder I flip out at the slightest provocation and stay up all night with indigestion? Add in the fact that I don't really do much for myself and just about everything for the other two and 2/9 of a person that live with me and you will find a guy who just needed a good time for one day. So, I had a much needed release hanging out with my friend consequences be damned. It is 2, Lilas will be up at 7. I will take care of her, fall asleep on the couch and have nightmares of credit card companies calling my phone and doing chores to the point where I work a week in my sleep in reoccurring dreams. Only to wake up to credit card companies calling me and doing chores while I am awake. At this point, I need to say this and once again, consequences be damned. I needed tonight so anyone can say what they will and I will give them the bird and begone with it. Its late and I am going to sleep now.
I have thought long and hard about this for a long time. How did we get to the point, where like it was said in Pirates 3: currency is the currency of the realm? Both me and my friend Ben have had issues with this, mainly because we both see the strange flaw with this: What is the true value of money? It is currency, but what does it stand for? Sure it was at one point based on gold, but what value does gold have? Sure, gold is rare, but what value does rarity have? there is less of it in the world true, but why does that make that item valuable? Sure, It is hard to get if it is rare, but why does difficulty indicate value? It involves a lot of effort and expense to the obtainer, that is apparent, but, why does expense and effort define value, when there are many difficult things in life I can place effort into, to obtain a rare product that is not valuable in the sense of currency or even product? This flaw is extended by the current dollar standard, the "Prosperity of the government" which refutes the rarity issue, causing the dollar, a printed bill, to be the new rare item, and thus regulated to keep its rarity, to make sure that there is less money in the world, to make dollars hard to get, to involve a lot of effort and expense. It is a simulation, a game that we as modern society participants play to validate a system to numerate our value and pretend that cotton with green ink is worth working at a job for, and thus validate the lifestyle of the modern man, and further validate the entitlement of a consumer culture.
I have once defined "Money" as an item with no value or intrinsic worth until exchanged for an item or service. A "wage" is a number that is arbitrarily attributed to the assumed value of ones time or (in the case of those lucky bastards with a salary) potential for work as expressed in money. The transitive property would then indicate that to work for a wage is to ask someone to quantify your time or effort into an item that is worthless until it is used for things that have worth relative to the consumer. So, the question remains, why do we work our lives to death for money?
I have heard it said that it is because we live in a cultured society and do not live like animals, who are ruled by survival of the fittest. These same ironic individuals are also not only benefiting from a society of culture and commerce, but are also contradicting themselves in the form of being "Politically Active" or rather, politically fueled by things that can cause arguments. Democratic politics by nature are dominated by politics by numbers; the largest piece gets the power. As in American politics, only a select few can really decide policy, and thus insures the dominance of the few over the many, perpetuating the strong over the weak, vis a vis, Survival of the Fittest. Thus the paradox is revealed. Wait, Ryan, I thought that everyone gets a voice in democracy, where do you get off by saying that only a few people get policies passed and insure Survival of the Fittest? As it stands, the system in place is the electoral college, who have political conscience; In other words, even if a majority under that Electoral official votes yay, that member of the electoral college can vote nay, and thus perpetuate his own dominance. Politics is, at it's foundation, the definition of organization with resources, (money) laws, (either pertaining to or issuing fees in connection with money) and military issues (getting money to end your life or another for the political gain of territory( resources(money)) or power(control of people (human resources (human money))) This is the kicker, are you ready? The value of a wage is only given if a person relinquishes a part of his freedom to the person who makes the wage. Transitively wage is equal to a worthless item representing worth of time or assets which are the equivalent of freedom, Let's go to the algebra:
Time or assets=Freedom (time or assets)random(X)M..Wage X=whim of person with power IF Service = 0, then M..0 Else M..Random(Service) (time or assets)=service
Therefore:
first Service=Freedom and then Freedom(random(whim of person with power))(random (Freedom)=wage
This makes little to no sense to anyone who won't look at it with an open mind, but what this tells me is a wage is the amount of freedom one chooses to relinquish to the scrutiny of a person with the power who judges what your freedom is worth. it's being a willful slave to a person who is more powerful than you and as a result, a willful disregard for how much your freedom is worth to you. By extension, Politics is the controlled stripping of that freedom. By choosing a politician to make policy, one is asking someone of more important power to decide their freedom, making freedom bondable under any "Civilized" society.
So, why money? It is control over those who don't have any. So, how does this work? How do we as those under the system, get into a place that our sweat becomes our own bondage? I think it began with Og the caveman.
Og the cave man was a man who should've died at about 1000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000000BCAbout During the Godknowswhen period. Og was a genetically inferior being and in accordance to evolutionary advancement, was about to be expunged from the genetic pool. Moki the Huge and Smelly was a contemporary of Og and was about to participate in the natural selection process, as a genetic material filter, with a big bloody club. See, Moki was the biggest caveman in the settlement and as a result, could take anyone's game as he willed by killing the person who had the game and taking it for himself. Og was no big and smelly either, for he had asthma and a club foot, so it was hard for moki to gain his kill. Moki was raising his club wen Og pathetically said "Wait, Moki, Hear me out!"
Moki stopped for a moment. His arm ached from the beatings from earlier and really was only gaining the game that Og had for a snack for the next day, so he listened. "Go on, weak and feeble one."
"I bet your arm is tired from beating the other cave men huh,"
"Indeed it is Og, in fact it is quite uncomfortable."
"tell you what, I love shiny pebbles from the creek over there. If you bring me a pebble, I will just give you the game I have."
Moki thought that this was a good alternative to working over this weakling for a piece of jerky, so he went to the creek and found a small pebble and gave it to Og. Og responded by handing the small game to Moki, just as was agreed.
The next day, the club was being raised, Og made the request for 1 pebble for his game. Moki took the offer and rested his clubbing hand for another day.
The next day came around, Og was vey hungry. Og had not eaten for two days now and the game he was getting that day was running faster than his slingshot could fire. Moki came around and said "Og, I brought you a pebble, give me your game"
Og knew that he would die if he admitted to not having any game, so as a distraction, he said "I don't like these rocks, I only want white rocks now." Knowing that white rocks were rare in the creek. This would keep big dumb Moki busy for at least 3 hours. Moki, to the surprise and shock of Og, found this new system to be kinder to his killing arm and thus went to look for a white pebble. Og, sllingshotted a few geese and came back. Moki paid one white shiney stone and went on his way with his snack geese.
The fourth day of this rolled around. Og was starving. Moki had returned with his usual request for Og's game. "I was looking for white stones in the creek. There are not any for me to give you."
Og replied "Here's what I'll do for you, If you go and kill an antelope for me, I'll give you four rocks that will have a scratch in them. These are just as good as white rocks. They have to have MY scratch in them for the trade to be good now, though. You get 1 antelope in exchange for four free meals.
Intrigued by the idea Moki goes off and kills an antelope for Og and returns. Og gives Moki four scratched rocks and, when Moki gives back one rock, Og gives Moki a piece of antelope, thus creating the first manager/employee relationship.
after Moki goes through those rocks, Og looks at Moki and says "Moki, The Item I want is far more rare now,"
"What is it" Moki said
"Teeth from other cave men" Og said
So, Moki ran arond beating up cavemen for teeth, all the while not seeing Og collect their game when they were dead. Moki gave Og the teeth and Og gave moki all the game that only a business week or two before, Moki could've got for free by doing the same thing he was doing. The difference is that Moki was now under the power of a crippled top man who convinced Moki that this system was beter.
One day, Moki ran out of people to take teeth from. "I want food Og" He said
Og replied "I want teeth"
Moki Replied "I don't have any"
Og said "What about yours?"
Moki, without hisitation hit himself in the face with his club, gave his own teeth to Og. Moki then during the course of a month, starves to death without the ability to chew the game he purchased, while Og sought out new areas to corporately expand. Thus beginning the struggle of the weak and powerful over the laborious and strong. Or maybe not, I don't know.
What I do know is that many of us have sold our teeth for a piece of meat. Many of us starve in our own participation in the system of clubbed footed asthmatic bosses and presidents who want power over us to do things that they can't do. I for one need metaphorical dentures many of an occasion.
So here's to you Og, for shifting survival of the fittest to the survival of the weakest and giving humanity the trait of decrepitude for eternity. Here's to evolution and what it has given mankind. Here's to natural selection turned on it's ear. Here's to God watching this unfold and asking for 10 percent of all I have every week, 10 percent of my power and freedom as an organism in this world. Here's to Og the caveman, may his ancestors be full, for the week he starved.
We watch the ball drop on another year at the homestead here in the Bozone MSU campus. As always, I intend to stay up all night and have an evening of fighting myself over having another year passed. Personally, my life seems to pull itself away from those I love and that causes stress. I am tired as always.
Tonight I heard something again, but for the first time, it made sense. My wife was talking to her mother on the phone and mentioned something that was so profound that it was hidden in the monotony of every day speech. Her words were "I was going to clean the house... but I'm just too tired to even try." Something I have heard from her many times, but until today, it seemed to be conjecture about the day. To see it more clearly was an excuse to be comfortable.
Well, if anyone has read my blog before, one can see I am always tired. Perhaps its the poor diet of crap and soda that makes me sluggish. Perhaps it is the extra half of a full grown person I have in my stomach. Perhaps it is the lack of exercise that I get in an average day. Perhaps it is the crash from sugar and caffeine. Or perhaps I;m a lazy fat ass fxxx who should've died 21 years ago from a severe Asthma attack that made my lips turn blue until some fool gave me a remedy in the emergency room... I think that is how it happened, I'll have to ask my mother about the details. Perhaps I should've died when my friend crashed his fathers Nissan into two mailboxes. Maybe I should've died when I made a new driveway with my Chevy Corsica and a barbwire fence looped around the front of my bumper. Maybe I should've bit it when i wrecked into the sod farm sign next to the driveway that i made for that person on the corner. They needed the Jaws O' Life to get me out of that one. And yet I persist. A tired mass of shxx that apparently doesn't pull his weight enough around the house and deserves to be teased by breaks "where I don't have to lift a finger." Like I lift a finger anyway.
If we could have a dog in our apartment, we would have a dog house. If we had a dog house, I would be in it, and if I were in the dog house, Miss Pearl would make sure I was stuck in it with all 300 pounds of me and set it ablaze like the Fourth of July. So, in short, moving to a place that allows pets would bring me that much closer to having a patriotic barbecue of axxHxxx that is so well done the dog gets a new house and a char broiled table scrap of butt cheek. I have spoken my opinion and I forgot that being in a relationship is like being in AA. "Hi, my name is Ryan (Everybody: Hi, Ryan) and I... gulp... am a husband (low clapping) It has been 4 months since my last decision. I had a moment how ever, when I had an opinion or two and failed to call a sponsor to talk myself down until the urge subsided. The doghouse is very small and hot, especially when my wife pours a bag of Kingsford over the kindling and barricades the door shut. The dog will be fed however. Thank you." The free coffee gets distributed, I hug a fat man's bitchtits and remain the Instamatic husband who seems to do things to himself without his knowledge.
So, I've been listening to Linkin Park tonight. I always can go to a few choice songs on Meteora and they epitomize my feelings about things. The lyrics are raw, simple, and colloquial and they match my spirit on this foul night. I have four songs looping currently in a particular order that seems to speak to me more than a million Tolstoy or Dostoevsky novels ever could.
The first song is an obvious angst song. It starts with an inverted acoustic guitar riff, adds a pulsing musical osstinato and bursts with a harsh forte of sound. It dies and starts the vocals:
When this began, I had nothing to say, and I'd get lost in the nothingness inside of me, I was confused, then I let it all out to find that I'm not the only person with things of mine Inside of me But all that they can see is the words revealed It's the only real thing that I've got left to feel Nothing to lose Just stop, Hollow and alone The fault is my own, the fault is my own
(and then, My prayer, not to god, but to my heart bearer) I want to heal, I want to feel, what I thought was never real I want let go of the pain I've felt so long... ...and find somewhere I belong
I think that this part is played in her head everyday, but she doesn't know the song
've got nothing to say, I can't believe I didn't fall right onto my face I was confused Looking everywhere only to find That it's not the way I had imagined it all in my mind So what am I? do I have the negativity cus I cant justify the way everyone is looking at me? Nothing to lose Nothing to gain, hollow and alone and the fault is my own and the fault is my own. I will never know myself until I do this on my own and I will never feel anything else until my wounds are healed I will not repay anything til I break away from me (and the part that I wish she would hold) I WILL break away, and find myself...
This song, for a long time, explained my faith in God for a while, and it brings me to a reflective state.
In the beginning of my anagnorisis to the nature of God that made sense to me, this song crystallized what I was feeling.
the refrain especially ...Everyone is so far away from me... trying not to break, but I'm tired of this deceit, every time I try to make myself get back up on my feet, all I think about is this, and the tiring time between and how trying to put my trust in you just takes so much out of me.
I used to yell the bridge in my car at the top of my lungs just to see if God himself would be present to catch my plea for his evidence. It's not only a matter of getting God to come out, I found, but it was by searching for him that brought me to where he was... a lesson about God's nature I never forgot.
This song brings us to the past three weeks events. This is my song to her at this point. the first verse was parallel to what I told her a couple of days ago, which has kept me in the burning dog house.
"Tired of being what you want me to be! feeling so faithless, lost under the surface. don't know what you're expecting of me. but under the pressure... I'm caught in the undertow"
then Mrs. Pearl replied "every step that I take is another mistake to you"
then I wanted to say it. I really did want to explain the theory I have been making in my off time from Lilas and Life. We got the house clean at one point this break. It was nice. However, at that point, the requests and demands to keep the house in working order, I felt, fell squarely on my shoulders. I think that after all this time, she still has no faith in herself to keep what she has started going. That a lack of modivation would keep her in her gloomy disposition. As a result, she delegates these tasks to me, because she knows that there is a better chance for me to finish them than her own lowly ability. She starts to obsess about the details, squeezing the last bit of order out of the way things are, so that she can cling on to the happiness of cleanliness. There are also ficticious appearances of people who are spying on us apperently. I think that if she feels that she can run her own home, she can finally prove to "everybody" that she is worthwile. She tries to validate herself with works and not faith. When she gets overwhelmed, she gets pushy with the nitpicky details, risking aggrivation and hypocracy. I wish I could explain that she is a beautiful woman who just needs to see that her clay pearl is the most valuable thing in my life, and I wouldn't hock it for twice the money to get it back from the guy I hocked it to. having those moments without it while I bought it back would last too long and be torture. But I can't prove that to her, that is a path she must take on her own.
"Cant you see that you are smothering me? Holding too tightly, afraid you will lose control, cus everything that you thought I could be is falling apart, right in front of you.
I know that I might end up failing to, but I know, that you are just like me with someone dissapointed in you."
My list is long with people I have failed to take a bullet for, and people who I accidentally shot. Trust me, I've disappointed people. and so have you.
I hope that this statement is not a resolution. I made a resolution to never make a newyears resolution starting the next year when I was 14. I didn't want to change because of guilt, but go a bit deeper and find why I feel guilty. Change the thing that causes the guilt, not be changed by the guilt. That is the difference between surviving cancer of the emotions and succumbing to it. but anyway. I'll be up until new years starting my plan to keep the house clean. It's an issue of disciplining myself to clean the house when I don't want to. If I wait until I want to; if I wait until Motivation strikes, It will be like standing on stairs waiting for someone to push me down them. In the end you could've sucked it up, walked down the stairs and saved yourself some time in traction. Madame Pearl has had on a white board in our living room three weeks of planning that she was compulsed to write by that need to bolt down her fleeting happiness. It's like eating your feelings only its with tables and graphs instead of cheesecake. Basically, she gave herself a high pressure ultimatum that caused a lot of stress and strife, and I doubt she is still following it. here is my new solution. I wrote a new three week schedule on the smaller white board on the fridge complete with algebra representation of our house:
this is our house if it was a messy, unresolved equation.
3X^2+ab-30+c=c+ab-x^2+19
week one, solve for zero: This means just get the house CLEAN! There is a difference between CLEAN and ORGANIZED. I believe the mistress Pearl has been biting of more than she can chew by trying to solve this equation in it's current state. So, I'm starting with the office, and moving across the house. any papers I'm basically organizing into school, music, money, other and trash. Any other Items I plan to place into homogeneous piles of crap and keep them in neat stacks for week two. I'm going to be done with the whole house in a week and as a requirement for that, I have to keep the upkeep going on the house as well. Mrs. P can put in her two cents in the project of course, but unfortunately, I can't wait for her to get the complicated equation to fit into a logical sequence, so I'm just going to set the whole damn thing to zero and simplify it. Sorry honey, I can't wait for you anymore. After one groups all the crap into homogeneous piles:
3X^2+x^2-30-19+ab-ab+c-c=-x^2+x^2+19-19+ab-ab+c-c
And simplifies everything back to zero:
3X^2+x^2-30-19+ab-ab+c-c=0
upon consolidating and making the house presentable, not just neat, the equation comes to:
4x^2-49=0
Week 2: This is when we can finally organize this stuff. We will look through the piles, and organize anything that is out of place, factor out what we don't need, and then simplify everything into logical patterns. In other words, now that the house has a starting point, we can then go into the things that make everything fall apart every semester.
See our newly zeroed out house become a factored quadradic. (2x+7)(2x-7)=0
this makes this so easy. Once we start at zero we can make a better system of keeping the sides resolved besides just panicking about the mess. we have a week to put the equation of the apartment to this point.
week 3: solution! the answer to the whole thing is to work when we are tired. Both of us hate this concept because we both have parents who were chained to being busy, out of necessity, and we both have that kind of resentment towards that kind of neglect, even if it was for our livelihood. It also means that we have to be grown-ups and that is a benchmark that we refuse to accept for some reason. For me, it means that the ideas that plague me at night will have to simply be choked down for the sake of the whole and for my wife, it means that she may not have a chance to be an adolescent adult. Her mother saw to it that she played mom to her own little brother and so she didn't get more than a month of youthful reckless abandonment... (which was rekindled a year after that month and my daughter was born.) and I hoped that she would get to be more social, once again, I'll take another bullet and keep her off of my shot-on-my-watch list. Go be a girl, be forlorn and sad. Go have friends, go spend money, just come back and act your age so I don't have to carry us both. Eat, drink and be merry, for tomorrow will die.
That's why this song is the last one. I'm breaking the habit of letting the house fall to hell. "I don't want to be the one the battles always choose, but inside I realize that I am the one confused, cus i don't know what's worth fighting for, or why I have to scream, but now I have some clarity to show you what I mean, I don't know how I got this way, I'll never be alright(or rested for the rest of my life) so I'm breaking the habit tonight. happy new year. It's the first. I've got a lot to do tonight. farewell.
I was hanging with my friend a while ago at his place eating grilled cheese and tomato soup. Most people would associate the food with childhood, but for me, I never had a point in my childhood where I had such a combo. My grilled cheese was always served with pear halves and I never had tomato soup until I was twenty.
Anyway, my friend has an amazing impediment. He cannot make grilled cheese. It's an ailment likened unto Derik Zoolander's left turn disorder. Try as he might, he just cannot do it. His girlfriend had to boot him out of the kitchenette and save the would be Dorito flavored charcoal bits, earning him beration and harassment of the culinary sort. The cute chattiness and whimsical insults made the scene endearing as she scraped the leftover cheese flakes from the pan into the garbage and handed me a plate with a delectable trinkets of flavor. During the serving, my friend looks at me and says "Don't we act like a married couple?"
I thought about it. I looked at it. I compared my marriage to the cute little exchange I just saw, and felt as tough there was something missing. there was a piece that Karen and I have that seems to make us, for a lack of a better term, less whimsical, yet stronger...
"I don't see enough hate," I said. This brought a strange look from the two of them to me. I could see the narrative "Hate... Is he telling us a joke? Isn't hate the opposite of love? Huh? Did we spike the tomato soup? He might not be used to all the Lycopene. We've been brought up with this stuff, he's been eating tomato soup for only 4 years now, he might be getting drunk.
"I'm serious" I said, "you need more hate I think." An uncomfortable chuckle emerged from the two of them.
HATE! yes hate. A marriage is strengthened by hate! Now let me explain: If everyday, day in day out, a couple is constantly enthralled in constant bliss, that means only one thing... They are lining to each other. even entropy dictates that nothing is truly constant, thus flux is always occurring in everything in the fractal of life. Therefore, to be happy all the time, is impossible. As Dennis Leary once said, "Happiness comes in small doses, it's a chocolate chip cookie, a cigarette, or a 5 second orgasm: you cum, you smoke, you eat the F*****g cookie and shut the F*** up!" Being constantly happy would in essence be an IV drip of those small doses, and more work that it would be worth. Bottom line: Bad days happen! Bad days happen more than good! Bad days are a constant! And given the chance of there being one day a week that is good... a generous assumption to be sure, that is one day a week for two people that is good. Odds are 1 in 7 that a married couple will have the same good day (86% chance of failure) and thus the good day will be destroyed by the bad day, and lets not forget the 6 bad days that overlap, giving two bad days for the price of one most days. Those are grounds to snap. explode, scream, swear, throw things, spit, splash, tear, dismantle, set up sleeping bags, make hotel arrangements, wash the blood from your gashed, vacuum dented forehead, rinse and repeat at least 6 times a week. This is only the natural progression of the entropic world. Anyone who pretends that a world like that is happy all the time is being dishonest.
By hate, I'm not talking about disdain, or angst, or disgust... all of which are reasons not to get married. I'm instead talking about hate in terms of honesty. Many would argue that honesty is what a marriage should be based on. I would take a stronger stance on that and say that pure honesty is a most powerful force in the human social world and that it must be tamed and used in order to be able to even consider marriage. To be honest with ones self is most vital. To know ones own weakness, to know the limits of ones strengths, to understand that despite the fact you might be right in the argument, the fight will continue until you are not, and to know that being wrong is not necessarily incorrect, though your weakness is exposed, is but scratching that surface of honesty's submission.
One must be comfortable with ones honest self to then be able to be honest with a partner. Once you do get married, You find that honesty with money and time becomes the next big hurdle that must be jumped. Many people would say that after you get married, it becomes about money. I say that it becomes about time and money. Money, by my own definition, is an object that has no worth unless it is exchanged for something else. Money is also an arbitrary value placed on a man's time and effort. T$=Money(rnd(infinity)). There is a relationship of time and money that is expressed in, more or less, the fact that one sacrifices time to make money. the honesty comes with what we sacrifice our money on. Video Games, Movies, Accent Clothes, Restaurant Food, these things that bring single people pleasure, now brings strife to the couple and to be honest that these things are a waste would clear up a lot of pain. But to change is to acknowledge in some way that the old way we were was wrong, and that attacks pride. Pride can be one of the biggest nails in the coffin of honesty, and as a result, the level of anger and hate gets pushed to the bottom of the pile serves as an agitator, churning other things into the top of the slurry, and making truly ugly reactions occur, like abuse and passive aggression. The explosion is what ultimately makes a marriage unhealthy.
One must always be honest. One must always be comfortable with their honesty. One must be able to sit down and have a brutal reaction with a bad day. Those who convert time into money see to it many times that one will have a bad day, and a marriage that is honest will allow for someone to sit on their couch, rant and rave, yell at each other over bills and housekeeping, and in the end have that hatred going for them.
"I think that for a marriage to work, someone has to take into an account the person he or she loves. If that person is someone you honestly cannot be without, even if you hate that person with every fiber of your being, and that sentiment is shared, that couple is ready to work at that marriage, and it might not be the easiest thing, but at least both people will have the drive to keep the marriage alive; The couple must be attractive to each other especially when they repulse one another." That was the only reply I could muster, then I finished my sandwich. It was a sandwich type I was not used to eating with tomato. and while the notion of fruit soup and buttery sandwich seems repulsive, they have been a loving marriage for generations.
Many of my entries have been about work as of late, and I'm beginning to understand that If one works in a place he or she does not have the heart to work in, then that place can be hell. Or perhaps put another way, heaven and hell might in fact be one in the same, depending on what life you have led. If a choir of angels singing about God is excruciating, imagine living that through eternity.
My point being, I want to be a band teacher. I've wanted to since the first day the Russ Newbury shook my hand and told me "good work" on a piece I wrote my senior year in high school. I wanted that kind of experience, to be able to shake the hand of a student of mine, say well done, and influence them on their otherwise unresistant ambitions.
I work at a restaurant. (Not quite a band teacher, is it?) This restaurant happens to have some fine workers in it. Some fine workers are the store leaders. The basic tenants of being a leader is to be able to lead. This is where the logic falls apart. These people cannot lead to save their worthless hides. Final syllogism: The restaurant has leaders that don't lead (once again, if you follow the math on this crap, that is W sub r/(leaders+(-leaders))=undefined quantity: because one cannot divide by zero.) In essence, this place runs itself on pure pissy ego and not so much on strong foundations.
I was in an unpaid for meeting yesterday about our current progress in the store over the past year. It was about 1 million dollars off projected due to a few undeniable factors. The city of Bozeman is pretty much anti-big box store. In order for Wal-mart to expand their store, the needed to jump unreasonable hurdles, including funding a mass transit system to compensate for the jobs that the city would lose and gain from having the store open in town. By making the claim that Wal-mart would kill 100 jobs in the city, they forced retribution on the store, which they replied that they would add 200 jobs to compensate. The rebuttal was that the 100 unemployed would work for the Wal-mart and have no way to get there, thus mass transit was necessary for the whole city. and Like a gay guy telling me about his plight with his lifestyle change, Wal-mart said "fine, you win, I'll agree with you," not so much because they had a point, but because you can only take this crap for so long before you get tired and cave.
so, back to the subject, 1 million dollars off. Joe cut his losses. He has been here a year and expects to turn a profit. no one makes a profit in the first year, any economy wise human being can tell you that. He then explains the accountability aspect of the job. "I am a nice guy, and I'll give you the benefit of the doubt, but when you walk on me, I'll drop the hammer." I think if you talk in metaphor cliches, you need to be beat and told how to convey words with real thoughts and not broad speculations. either way, he did have a point, show up for your scheduled time and work hard. However, this accountability should run both ways and doesn't. Joe shows up every day, I'll give him that, but the fact that I had to scour up someone myself and get a day off that I requested a month ago indicates to me that he is not putting in his fair share of the work. I am also confused on many job operations and timing issues that I must be able to accomplish. Ask questions, he says, Joe, i tried, you told me that you would get to it in a minute and that you had something more important to do. You did, yea, I'll give you that, but you never got back at me with any answers, so I stop asking. What's the point of asking when I have to find the answer my fricken self anyway? I have been "instructed" 6 different ways on how to close my station, all of which seem to conflict with one another. I never have a free moment and yet I'm always the last to leave. I don't know what they want clean at any given point in the night, don't know when to close a fryer, don't know where things are in the walk in cooler, and really, it's because no one has stood up, taken any sort of leadership role and made sure that standard practice is followed. It's absolutely irritating to have a damn cheerleader pretending to be a coach, waving her damn pompom and cheering "let's get this kitchen clean" instead of running practice, going over the plays, giving push ups to the slackers and giving instruction to the ones who need it.
I wish I was doing what I want to do now. But I do what I must.
I have come to a harsh conclusion. I am strung out too thin in my endeavors.
I have done the math. I am expected to: Practice 14 hours a week minimum, do 2 hours of homework per class per class hour, participate in 14 hours of class per week(28 hours of homework for those of you keeping the algebra alive in this entry(minus 8 hours for classes involving practice(then adding 14 hours a week(minimum) to that hourly load)) work 32 hours a week until midnight, and , in the off times, take care of my daughter. evaluate:14+14+2(14-2)+32+Td=... ...84 hours +Td a week of misc. work. divide that by 7 to get the expected work a day, and you get 12+1/7Td hours a day. factor in that weekends are more work than any other day and the fact that most of the sleep I receive is actually a nap before class, and also factor in that Td is anywhere between 2 and 8 hours a day, and the fact that Td varies by the amount of molar pain my daughter has, nights can add another 2 hours to the already existent 2 to eight. My expected workload therefore is anywhere between an uncomfortable 14 to 22 hours a day. not to mention the fact that I need wind down time in a day. another hour donated to the Gods of blogging and pixelated virtual interaction with an "AIent" being inside the PlayStation II. Also factor in the constant nurturing of a marriage. more like a houseplant then a romantic painting. you have to water a marriage, fertilize a marriage, and (for the love of god ladies) cross pollinate marriages in order for the plant to stay alive.
I am tired, as always. I have also come to the conclusion that, in fact, I have had more days without a shower than a man should without being locked in a plastic, air tight box. My week has sloshed together into one greasy streak and I'm starting to lose my focus on time and space. is it Monday? Wednesday? the forth of July? 2001? 2007?
As far as I can tell today is today and I have no idea how I got here. Time has caught up with me recently and I can't help but wonder if I'm so tired, what have I done to become so? I have a stack of notes in my own handwriting that i don't remember taking and a book of homework I do not remember doing. I feel like jack from FIGHT CLUB. snap awake at LAX, Boston, JFK, Galatin field... While and alter ego seems to be setting up another life without my participation, letting me in on a few things about the organization but keeping me in the dark on the methods and sick practices employed to successfully overcome the world. but I digress...
I seem to digress a lot in my blog... oh well...
I seem to have a lot on my plate right now. And as my once stalwart visage succumbs to fatigue, I can't help but wonder what kind of person I am when I don't pay attention to it. I am apparently more studious in my sleep that in my waking hours. and if that part of me can break free, it will be like Tyler Durden all over again, only instead of scorching smileys on office buildings, I'm doing my homework for me, and keeping myself from cleanliness. I'm a dirty scholar when I am not paying attention I guess.
