Well, I don't know what the kcuf is going on.

I've been working at my new job now for about 4 weeks... Well, I had a week where I had to attend and perform at a wedding... And 4 days without experience due to a slow day that I was supposed to work until volume and was sent home... And a few days that I had to tie up some loose ends at my previous job... And all in all, I have probably been working for a week and a half, but what the heck! Yea, I've been working there for four weeks.
In that time, I have learned that I have no idea what is going on... EVER! I work as hard I can for as long as I can and can't keep up. Joe, the proprietor of the establishment I make my occupation even observed motive to interject "Ryan! Have you learned anything in the past 4 weeks!" And to tell him the truth, I had learned about 1 and a half weeks worth of information which was more like a religious dogmatic tripe, point being that I have learned about 5 ways to prepare a house salad and all of them conflict with each other and the crappy training video I watched in the bar of the Outback Steakhouse 4 weeks ago.
I arrived at 3 on a Wednesday afternoon to work in order to open cold side, or the salad, fryer, and dessert stations for the whole night. I had never done it before and was given an ultimatum "Have it ready by four." To put it into perspective, it was like asking my baby daughter to report on her findings about the underside of the couch. As much as she sees the underside of the couch, she lacks the verbal skills to make such a report. I lacked the common sense of a restaurant to set up the stuff I was using. I wish I did; I would have not about had a nervous breakdown in a walk-in cooler after Joe informed me that it was 4:05 and he had to bail my ass out. The night before I had run out of... All salad making material. Upon my restock of the line, I had 20 minute salads... (A salad is late after 2 minutes) On top of that I was also having to make the fry stuff myself because the guy that should've been doing that was busy closing the stations. I didn't know how to make a lot of the stuff that they asked me to and when I asked about it, well, let's just say they are all vets of the arches and this makes them fry jockeys and jackasses to boot. It was like calling a San Fransisco condominium complex, I couldn't get a strait answer. (but a whole lot of gay ones.)

It's not all bad though, I actually got a compliment form Joe. He said that I did a good job today. John, one of the other managers, said that I was improving, and they did realize that I had worked a week and a half, not four as the books said. I am still working to be better. In the end, this chick Gracy told me that it would be impossible to learn all of this stuff in a week and a half and so long as I bust my ass she has no problem with me. She then said she wanted a beer and continued to grill steaks until the sun began to rise again.

Chronos Et Veritas

I sit here now, typing one handed, the other hand around a crying baby who would prefer squirming and falling to her doom than sleep, drinking cherry coke reflecting on how far I have come. My boxes are strewn about filled with books, sheets, my music, amd my books of sheet music, while I wallow in my own remorse for the fact that, once again, I am forced to move back into my parents place from Missoula due to money issues... Last year about this time I was typing one handed crying, the other around a stigma of regret that inclined me to prefer squirming to my doom than sleep, drinking a cherry coke and reflecting on how the hell I got here. I had less boxes strewn about filled with text books, bed sheets, my music, and my textbooks of sheet music that I refused to go to bed for, while I wallowed in my own remorse that I am forced to leave Missoula for the first time, due to money issues.

This leads me to a conclusion. The proverbial "History repeats itself" slogan held by High school history teachers and twice devorcays (not too sure on the spelling there) is proved positive in the case of love and life. Once again I'm sitting amidst my failures and miseries... the smoldering pieces of a life set for greatness, but can only achieve mediocrity and blood loss with no gain. Once again I am left with only my closing door and my things. There's a difference this time however. I have more stuff. Another pearl that I have drug to the abyssal floor amidst the water monsters and angler fish and brought to ruin.

The people seem to increase by every monumental failure I achieve. The first one was just me. A near failure at school, a job that was floundering, and a personal failure of my own dealing with my own personal life of lust and self loathing. Then I drove the object of my lust into the hole with me the second time, getting her pregnant, marrying her on a spur of the moment, and starting our life of ruin, getting fired from a pizza place for leaving the back door open once when a half wit bastard operations manager waltzed in. Now, on to the most recent acquisition of post-cataclysmic rubble, My daughter was born into a world that has given her no chance and no hope monetarily. However, I look into my whole upbringing. My father was no older than I was when he had me and I guess by that time he was as desperate.

He had no "father figure" to speak of and well, I had a very present father figure with no reference to a father figure, so to sum up, that's an example of an example of no example. He had his own style of parenting that made me in a lot of ways the way that I am. He was a basic man for whom steak and potatoes were a bit flashy. He was honest to a fault and was always up front with me, especially when he was mad. I feared him and loved him all at once. It was his honesty that ultimately taught me everything that I know about interpersonal relationship. Now, I have only the shady outline of what he knew and what I learned form what he knew. But I digress

Back to history repeating itself. I'd like to propose that history repeats itself, but it repeats itself in a form of fractal geometry. Much like a figure repeating itself over and over, smaller and smaller into infinity, there is a point where the pattern of life creates the same pattern inside of itself. It gets so small that everything, to a final point, becomes blurry. History makes this evident in the events before the printing press. There is a definite schism in history before standardized printing that the pattern of history's fractal becomes clear. Everything after that is definite dates and definite locations, with people and places, until the present, the main picture revealed. Beyond the present is only an assumed pattern of what the past looks like.

The same holds true for human experience, the foundation of history in general. From the time you are born to the time you have your first memory, you have the same fractal. There is your first memory that acts as the printing press of your brain. It's always some intense memory, like falling down stairs or crying when a tooth gets slammed out of your head by the front door. The printing press starts the chronicles and annals of your own life until you are in the present and finding that your future is zoomed in on your past.

My father's printing press for his mind was growing up. He didn't have so much fun with 15 brothers and sisters. he learned to cope and to be simple and to be honest. The fractal continues with my cluelessness and my own experience.

So, finally, the world comes into focus, and I find myself in my own little fractal pattern of striving, failing and moving home to start again...