April 30, 2004 | 2:50
My family is in
Wisconsin for a few days on a business trip, and so I have the house to
April 24, 2004 | 11:43 p.m.
And I have Friday and Saturday
Hell, thine name
is Wal-Mart. Thou flatulent and flaming purgatory of horrors so despicable,
there haven't been lexicographers to yet endure it to create a word adequate
to describe it!
April 23, 2004 | 11:49 p.m.
It's been a long day. And
so I return tomorrow.
Day off Monday. Yay.
A customer actually
acknowledged, sincerely, my good service at work. That's enough to make
my day. That's enough to make my workday seem shorter.
April 20, 2004 | 12:58 p.m.
Today was a good day at work,
but I still want to get out of Wal-Mart.
I basically danced away my
workload. I was going to be giddy, dammit, and the customers weren't going
to stop me this time.
A bit a wisdom for you all:
Don't eat Polish sausages from Wal-Mart's grill unless you're prepared
for what seems an impossible level of flatulence. I have no idea how they
manage it, but I feel pretty certain that's how it affects me.
Sorry for sharing. ;p
For those of you who are
thinking The Punisher probably sucks before you go see it, let me tell
you right now that it's actually a very good movie. I recommend it to everyone.
An international holiday.
April 17, 2004 | 11:52 p.m.
Something hit my mind, within
the last day or so: praise and worship music.
I'm not sure why I thought
of it, but consider this: can you recall any praise and worship songs that
are NOT all about kissing ass to God? Can you think of any that are written
about what God really does for us? I sure can't remember any. It's all
a blanket statement, at best. I know of no songs that are about what God
does for us, as individuals.
You are holy, holy, holy
| God is good, all the time | This little light of mine, I'm gonna let
it shine | etc.
Get the picture?
So I got this wonderful idea
for a praise song. I think it has more honesty than the other praise and
worship songs. It goes a little somethin' like this:
I love you, you
love me. Let's kiss Gaw-aw-awd'sss fa-an-nee. With a great big kiss right
upon his tush, let's give Satan a great big push.
I think I should submit it to
the hymnal assembly people. But I guess it needs more lines.
What do you think? Is it
good, or what?
Thank god for the
April 14, 2004 | 12:44 a.m.
Every now and then, I get
an English person come to my register in Wal-Mart. And I find that extremely
refreshing, because they all carry themselves very well. They're highly
respectful, they speak clearly, and they actually manage intelligent smalltalk.
They're such a pleasure to work with.
The bad news is, I work from
10 a.m. to 7 p.m., tomorrow.
The good news is, my next
day off is Monday.
You know what's sad? What's
sad is that Wal-Mart takes up so much of my time that I can't seem to write
about hardly anything outside of it.
Damn you, Wal-Mart.
I dropped by Hobnob and turned in my resume & application. I had a
brief chat with a couple of the staff, and they let me know that when they're
ready to hire, my application is on the top of their list. These guys actually
had the decency to treat me like a human being, instead of blowing me off
like another numbered work machine. A very nice change of pace. They behaved
surprisingly like I tend to under initial circumstances: reserved and kinda
monotonous, but straightforward and genuine. I got the impression that
we are of the same kind.
It's easier to work a shitty
job when you have some foresight for a better future. My Wal-Mart job shouldn't
be quite so irritating now.
I'm still going to be looking
for other work (preferably part-time) while I'm stuck with Wal-Mart, however.
The Wal-Mart environment isn't good for me. It isn't who I am; it doesn't
call to me at all. In the Wal-Mart world, you're just a number.
Although I haven't gotten
as much done on my day off as I was hoping, I did nevertheless have a really
good day. The nap with Anna was especially worthwhile.
I've managed another "full
day", as I call it.
April 12, 2004 | 1:48
yeah... I forgot to mention one thing. Don't watch the movie Mystery
Men. It tries way too hard to be funny. It was so bad that I actually
had to try to laugh. You see, sometimes I kinda force laughter to
give a movie a better chance by tickling my funny-bone, so to speak.
April 12, 2004 | 1:30 a.m.
Well, it didn't work for
It's that bad.
I'm scheduled to work 11
a.m. to 8 p.m., today, at Wal-Mart. Another 9-hour day. Bastards.
Maybe I'll tell you all about
the bitch woman customer at Wal-Mart, next entry.
Why is it that when parents
tell you "Welcome to the real world," they say it in response to absurd
hardships? Is this what the "real world" means to them? Misery?
If that's the real world, it's not a world worth working for.
it, if I'm wrong in my mission in life, at least I'm having guts enough
to actually commit to my dreams than let them go down the drain like most
April 9th, 2004 | 1:12 a.m.
My intention is to make a
point. To demonstrate with my life how it can and should be.
Life is short, but history
follows everyone. All the more reason to make it count. And we will be
Someone tell me how one goes
about being an exceptional person without allowing themselves to pursue
the path of exception. To actually go and make happen what others have
been unwilling to commit to.
This afternoon, it rained.
And I smelled from the settled rain what I consider to be Brevard's signature
smell for the first time, this year. It's that smell of wet moss upon the
stone walls, combined with the various fragrances of the restaurants and
the vegetation. It's a smell that makes you want to live the day to its
fullest, and it's welcoming you to do so.
I drew the conclusion, over
the weekend, that Brevard is a sketch. It's always kinda been a work-in-progress.
There's a unique beauty in that. Parts of it has many times been erased
and redrawn. There are even eraser stains, here and there, but it's still
beautiful. It's beautiful for what it is and what it can be. My desire
is to collaborate in advancing the sketch. I highly doubt I will be the
one to finish it. More accurately, I don't think it can be finished.
But I nevertheless mean to add some important strokes to it.
This is my town, baby,
and I mean to make my home here.
today (it now having become and ungodly hour of the morning), I intend
to submit my resume to a local restaurant and try to submit formal applications
to it and the other businesses I've submitted my resume to. If I don't
get a response within two weeks, it's back to delivering pizzas for me.
Or something like that.
April 7th, 2004 | 2:00 a.m.
Wal-Mart can rot. I got my
paycheck from them, today. $313. For two weeks. And I worked close to 40
hours for each week. You know what? You can live off that. But that really
strikes my nerve. I can do so much better than $313 from two weeks' work
at Wal-Mart. Now, I'm not big on making money just for the sake of making
money, but I really insist on profiting relative to my time and care involved.
I'd have to be making 3 times that for every two weeks, at least,
should I have any extended interest in staying with Wal-Mart.
The average, decent, freelance
artist makes about $600 per month. My abilities are above average, so I'm
quite sure I can manage at least that. I didn't train myself to work the
"average joe" job, so I sure as hell am not going to make my career in
I do not need the bulk of
my life to be wasted away in service of a majority of ungrateful assholes
who see me more as a robot than a human being. There are better things
I could be doing with my time.
Time may be money, but time
more efficiently spent can afford me a far more humane life. Time working
at a cash register or standing at a red line all day is a relative waste
of my good time. Frankly, it's not worth $6.50/hr. I was making far more
from PJ's with tips at $5.75 an hour. More than twice as much, in fact.
And all I was doing was learning the town and delivering pizzas for about
6 hours each day I worked.
I'm strongly trying to manage
turning myself into a full-time artist. I am going to get my name out there.
I'd be more satisfied to make at least minimum wage as a working artist
doing what I want to do than be a wealthy, upper middle-class citizen wasting
time in unfulfilling jobs.
Another thing: You know what
I hate? The grossly overweight men and women who you'll often see coming
into Wal-Mart with their shitty haircuts that just spell out "I chose this
hairdo because it allows me to have the least hassle with personal hygiene
while still actually having hair." (Translate into the dumbass Hick language.)
Such are the kind of people that give humanity a bad name. If you guys
are going to not bother with making yourselves look decent, you could at
least try wearing a fucking smile and talking like a civilized human being.
For god's sake, you usually wear speedos or polkadotted shorts with the
least complementary color schemes imaginable. You never wear makeup of
any sort. The only reason you wear shoes is because it's store policy.
You hardly even bathe. You don't brush your teeth. You don't know how to
use a card machine. You don't know what any words mean beyond three syllables.
You can barely read. You abuse your kids. You abuse people in general.
You haven't had a job in a decade. You live on welfare programs. You use
the electric cart because you're too lazy to walk. The most effort you
put into anything is finding the TV remote when you lose it up that disturbingly
deep valley that is your butt cleavage. The reason people criticize you
for being a fucking lazy, retarded fatass is because you are. You've allowed
yourself to be. And if you'd do something about it you'd feel a helluva
lot better, I'm sure. Before all else, stop taking your short temper out
When I generalize with the
saying "I hate people," YOU are the ones who inspired me.
Goodness me, I feel much
is a choice. Love is something that must be worked at.
April 6th, 2004 | 1:58 a.m.
Attraction is not a choice.
One cannot have love through
attraction alone. And one should never leave a relationship that can
and does work for humoring a fascination with the unknown, regardless
of how much flare and pizzazz the person may seem to have. Love is an endurance
race with no end. It ain't no 100 yd dash. A good relationship isn't built
upon how much you can do in a fling in the shortest amount of time possible,
it isn't built on fucking each other just for the sake of fucking each
other. It's built upon taking one day at a time, doing the best with what
you have, and reflecting upon the wide variety of memories. And this is
the real reason to have a relationship. This is the very meaning of a relationship:
to relate. To share experiences with one another, to combine one another's
interpretations and come out with a better and more complete understanding.
Love is blind. The thing
that a lot of people don't seem to realize is that it's meant to be. You
can't look at someone, think, "Gee willickers, that person's hot," and
love them. That doesn't constitute love. To love someone, you must support
them. You must forgive their mistakes; past, present and future.
I think tonight has given
we three much to think about.
If life were a story, tonight
is probably a foreshadowing of a significant chapter.
Time for bed, now.
I've made my choice long
ago to stick with the one who already works for me. I love you, Anna.
ends another long work day at Wal-Mart.
Nothing of particular interest
really occurred at work today, aside from the fact that I was briefly reacquainted
with an old soccer associate of mine: Rachel Broadbent. She faintly remembered
me, I think. She hasn't changed a bit, although she seems to be more mature
now. Judging by the shin-guards, she still plays soccer, also.
So that was interesting.
In other news, my dearest
Anna has been helping me greatly in my efforts to get a better job somewhere
other than Wal-Mart. I am eternally grateful for all the work she's put
into helping me out. It has been invaluable.
Payday is this Thursday,
and that's good.
Tuesday, the 6th, is my day
off. Anna and I will be spending much of our time taking care of business
matters. And we'll be having dinner with Colin and some girl he's dating
from Brevard College.
I have a few sketches in
the works. Here is a sample:
This was an experiment
with gesture drawing and coloring. My mojo reached empty, so that's why
the drawing is in such an incomplete state. C'est la vie.
I have a feeling
I'll be returning to finish this, when I'm more mentally able.
I think I'll name
April 2nd, 2004 | 4:16
p.m. | Where do I go from here?
insisted on my own will for essentially my entire life. Always advancing
the desire of my heart, my desire as an artist. This desire has yet to
have made me a rich man. Indeed, it hasn't made me but $0.50 richer. Granted,
I haven't made great efforts to make myself marketable, but I have no interest
training myself in the classical style just so I can be a sell-out artist.
I want to be one who creates, not one who simply replicates the same stuff
in pre-arranged positions. I am no artist of the left-brained persuasion.
April 2nd, 2004 | 12:40 a.m.
Today is my day off. It's
rather stunning how relieving it is, and yet it's very disturbing that
I'll be working the next day. A Saturday. 3 pm to 10:30 pm. And then again
on the following day; almost the same hours. But it's not so much the hours
that I mind -- even though I think anything beyond 5 hours a day is pushing
it -- it's the way they want you to behave. I am not cut out to be another
human machine in the Wal-Mart factory of superficial niceness. I don't
approve of standing and waiting for people in virtually the exact same
place for hours at a time. Slaves of the old ages have arguably had it
The customers tell ME to
smile in the rare instances where I've reverted back to my normal self
instead of my "Hi! How are you?" self. These same people who usually wear
frowns all day... and mullets. These same people who are receiving fast,
efficient service better than they'll get from most cashiers. These retired
citizens who don't want to take inconvenience from anyone, who want everyone
to smile at them. These mothers with their bratty children who think you
should never have an error, ever. And if you do, you're lucky to just hear
a deep exhalation from them. I am not your slave. I am not trying to waste
your time. You are not worth dealing with for only $6.50/hr.
The next time they ask me
if I'm in school, I will tell them, "I'm an artist," and respond with a
confident look. While they may disagree, at least they will know that mine
is a will that won't be shaken. I'm not going to become a male nurse like
they suggest I should. Or whatever other crazy idea they have. The good
life isn't about the money you make. There is no such thing as a good life
when you have to deal with shitty people on a regular basis.
I don't think I'm going to
wait until I've worked for them for 3 months before I seriously consider
other work. My mind's pretty much made up. This is just until I find
other work. Hopefully, I can start tailoring my work to who I am,
instead of tailoring myself to suit their wants.
I'm so much stronger a person,
these days. These adversities are only making it easier on me to more fervently
pursue the things I had my heart set on, all along. I'm going to market
myself as an artist as soon as I possibly can. I don't care if I'd be making
less money, at first. My first concern is making ends meet. My second concern
is advancing the skills that my heart agrees to. But I want to give our
business a healthy start, as soon as possible. I suppose it will never
be too late to take my art seriously. I will do what I must.
wanna know what's sad? What's sad is how some people treat people who serve
them as robots. Such is the life for first-level Wal-Mart employees. You're
intended to follow scripted actions like a robot, so it seems to only make
sense that people are going to treat you like one.
April 1st, 2004 | 11:49 p.m.
At least half of the customers
I ring up don't acknowledge my existence. Most of them give you an offended
or "I'm-better-than-you" kind of look, if they acknowledge you at all.
On a daily basis, I have this exchange:
"Good evening, sir/ma'am."
My speech is often made with
an effort to convey enthusiasm, whereas theirs is quite often monotonous
and usually quiet. You see, they're half-assed in paying attention to you.
"Fine. How are you?"
I dare say I follow Wal-Mart's
plan better than most of their employees, and I've not been with them long.
I admire their plan, in the grand scheme of things, but I really think
that they're too big for their own good. What works in a Wal-Mart in one
part of the country may not work in others. It isn't healthy to make your
employees perform seemingly neverending routines on a nearly daily basis
for long periods of time, and be on their feet 95% of that time. The human
body needs repose more often than this.
How did our society ever
get to the point of elevating commercialism above human well-being? Must
we trade our humanity for scripted response? Must we always try to greet
people by their last name, underhandedly getting it from their prescription
labels or credit cards or checks? Must we always ask them if they'd like
us not to bag their 20 oz beverages? Must we always hold our tongue when
the customer disrespects us, when we, too, are just as human and entitled
to a common respect as they are? Should I really go out of my way to please
the customer, running their drink to them when they're too caught up in
getting in the last word to remember to pick up their beverage, no
matter how bitchy and impatient he or she may be?
This ain't no life for an
new month. A new month with infinite possibilities. What will we get accomplished
in April? What do we wish to accomplish?
I found myself somewhat caught
up in distractions, back in March, regarding keeping up with my dream life.
So I'm going to be making special efforts to try to get back into that.
I haven't been dreaming enough. I really miss it. It should not be neglected.
It should be revisited often, and I believe it plays a vital role in human
creativity and enjoyment.
Anna has been really helping
my motivation for advancing our agenda to get our business running. I'm
really proud of her. I tell you, I really need her to balance me out. This
whole thing would likely fall apart, were it not for her contributions.
love is primarily a choice and only sometimes a feeling. If you want to
feel love, choose to love and be patient.
Live Preacher, RealLivePreacher.com
is nothing like returning to a place that remains unchanged to find the
ways in which you yourself have altered.
Mandela (1918 - ), 'A Long Walk to Freedom'
has a considerable psychological impact on the human mind. To the fearful
it is threatening because it means that things may get worse. To the hopeful
it is encouraging because things may get better. To the confident it is
inspiring because the challenge exists to make things better.
person can have a profound effect on another. And two people...well, two
people can work miracles. They can change a whole town. They can change
Frolov and Andrew
Northern Exposure, Cicely, 1992