You are lost

Maybe we might want to consider letting people smoke  in public again.  It  makes more sense than this.  Not that I’m against the idea mind you.  If you really want to, take your guns where ever you please.  I don’t care.  But you and I know that some people really should just take Johnny Cash’s advice  “Don’t take your guns to town”.

“You can’t place faith in material things / material things will fail you” -Machines Of Loving Grace

So my day was exciting.  I had to go to Flagstaff for management level food safety testing and certification.  Before heading out I tried to check some things online but the power supply on my computer decided to go wonky and I got blue screened instead.  Whatever.  So I head off, take the course, finish the test, and having completed my mission prepare to set course for home… but my starter isn’t engaging.  Yay!  Stranded halfway across the state!

Anyway, I beat my starter in to submission with a crowbar and made it back home.  As for my computer… it seems something had come loose so after checking all the connections it’s working fine.

Note:  This is a continuation of Value, but it started changing direction, so I thought I’d make it separate.

And so what determines if living in such a fashion has any greater value than continuing on an arid existence?  Unlike material goods whose value is based on blood and suffering, the value we assign to life is more incorporeal, and the basis for comparison immeasurable.  A life less ordinary may encounter great things of a spiritual nature that a common life lost to a material existence may never desire to attain, or even recognize to exist.

But cannot a life driven by material things lead to some grand source of inspiration too?  Kingdoms and nations rise out of the aspirations of conquest.

So where does the greater value lie, purpose?  Do we seek enlightenment or material goods to share and improve the circumstances of life for “the greater good” or do week seek to hoard and capitalize on the imbalance created from having what others do not?  But who is to say which is right?

So what do we see as our personal value of time, and what are we willing to trade it for?  If all life is suffering, what is the fruit of our strife?  Do we labor under the illusion that we can ever truly attain something physically tangible when we ourselves are incorporeal beings?

Each moment is precious and unique to an extent, and beauty is in part a product of scarcity.  So the more rare the event the more value we give it. But by influencing the probabilities we create a sameness in the happenings of our daily lives that can lead to a mundane existence and a sense of banality.  The workplace is the most obvious example, and generally where most of us experience this disconnect from grandeur.


The happenings of Day A, if too similar to Day B, lose significance even though each has it’s own unique set of values and circumstances.  More so if Days C-Z follow suit.

But doesn’t this also allow a basis for comparison to determine what is indeed a rare moment?  And from that to measure from greatness what is truly fantastic?  But it also implies that some moments are less rare, and by our definition, less beautiful.  We live in a world where the beauty of the unique is seen as abnormality, chance as insecurity, and seeking enlightenment as terrorism.  By organizing chaos do we not seek banality?

But value is not strictly determined by scarcity.  Why notice any particular moment, why hold it in memory?  We assign meaning to our experiences both common and great, whose value is based on perception.  If we see a moment as rare or meaningful the more we treasure it.  If we feel it to be common or trivial we disregard it.  So the issue at hand is what unseen forces influence our perception to say that one moment has more value another?  Is it all based on personal experience or do we allow cultural experience a greater say?  By raising our expectations of what each moment could hold, have we allowed our society to numb our senses to the subtleties of life?

What enlightenment could we achieve from perceiving every moment as rich in meaning?  And do we not risk imposing a greater meaning than there might be?  It is important to allow that which is mundane to remain insignificant; to allow value to remain uninfluenced and to appreciate what is for what it is.  To simply be and appreciate, and allow the experiences that unfold to enrich us as they will.

This is not to say we cannot create moments of rarity to enhance our experience.  But creating an atmosphere where enlightenment may be achieved is different from trying to discern meaning from the meaningless.  Should we all not seek to influence our own existence in such fashion?  To impose our own will upon our existence rather than allowing the influences prescribed to us by aforementioned social factors?  To create an alternative path to monotony?

Take a deep breath.  Plunge in to the work week.  Get your head above it long enough to take another breath and back in you go.  Weeks pass and months become a blur.  Soon it will be winter, then next year and so on.  I feel the last years of my twenties fleeting away.  Time moves too fast these days.

I used my credit card to take everyone out to dinner last night.  We toasted to global market collapse.  They passed the bailout today.  Hooray!  Inflation!  Internally I’m torn between stocking up before prices jump or trying to continue to fight my debt.  Grrr….

(S)Elections are coming up fast, and we are so screwed.  I’ve said the words “anything but Bush” before, but seriously, can’t we do better than these two ass clowns that bicker over nothing and have essentially the same dooming foreign policy?  Sure, Obama may be welcomed worldwide, but we’ll still have our dick stuck up Israel’s butt, still be in Iraq, still be messing with Russia and Iran, still be pro Georgia and will continue to deny any dissenting voices in the world media that maybe Saakashvili started this shit. Nobody’s talking about our ties with Latin and South America going to hell, even with Chavez booting out ambassadors and inviting Russia to utilize it’s services.

It’s gonna be hard to bomb proof our homes when we’re all living in tent cities.

Hahahahaha.

I’m curious to see how the next year pans out.  If things go well, if things go poorly….  either way here’s to the lulz.

There are moments when the world slows down, the sky seems within reach, where the articulate pace of daily life becomes a murmur.  Insects sing, clouds drift along and everything else becomes trivial.  As if dreaming, 200 years of progress becomes lost and meaningless, swallowed in darkness.  Only the moon and stars remain.  And you.  Insignificant and special.

But moments like these never last long.  Time and all its incessant nagging horrors howl; time for work, time for bed, horns and stereos blare, porch lights burst alive.  The civilized world screams to be acknowledged.

But there will be time for horror later.  After all, this moment is precious.  The lighter flares up and we begin again.

You’ve never lived in a democracy, and all your votes for “change” won’t stray the course of destruction the true leaders of this country have intended for us. Any true opposition was stifled long ago, and what few dissenting voices were allowed to reach the mainstream are being stifled and snuffed out. Enjoy your super-fucking-tuesday.

My discontent doesn’t come from voter apathy; I’ve watched the debates on both sides and I’ll cast my vote, as much of a waste of time as either action may be. My problem is I care. I care about rigged elections for new faces for the same puppeteers because ultimately it effects me.

And the fact that I hear more of you fuckers talking about super bowl sunday than this make me feel like you deserve it.

Can you hear me? I’m over here. Shh. Just keep shuffling along like you’ve got no purpose. It’s the easiest way to blend in with them. Them? Mannequins. Soul-less things with human form. They’re everywhere these days.

In my memory they’ve always been numerous, but it seems that they were easier to spot before. They’ve become more lifelike recently. Some echo words I’ve heard before; some bumper-sticker sentiment aimed to coax this apathetic demographic target to their siren’s call. It doesn’t matter if the message is familiar or unique, the source is still only an echo, one of many replications that roam around in warm flesh.

And I thank your father’s semen for this cheap excessive life, because if it weren’t for all of these decoys, these walking commercials with billboards on their backs, these gaping mouths that indiscriminately devour every resource at their disposal, this commodity of purposeless drones diluting the value of the human experience, if it weren’t for them I’d be an easier target.

As I’ve drifted through the labyrinth of human shapes I’ve met some other originals, like you. Some were hiding, some were fighting, and some were broken or dead. Some couldn’t fit the mannequin’s mold and destroyed themselves trying. Others were sacrificed to build it, and now wander the parking lots they watched their brothers die for; looking for a little sympathy, some spare change and a way to escape it, even if it’s drug induced and temporary.

Fortunately the mannequins seem destined for self destruction; an internal death wish to fulfill prophetic visions they’ve never understood. Through meaningless life they wish for ultimate death; something divine and definite, to be the conclusion if nothing more.

Another cigarette butt in an overflowing ashtray.

I’m on to you people.

Public restrooms; second only to Port-A-Potties as the last resort for bowel relief in desperate measures.  No matter where you go there’s likely to be one about.  Sometimes you’re lucky and there’s multiple stalls to choose from, sometimes you get the unisex one-stall.  Regardless of the size, regardless as to where you are (the mall, a library, Montana, Arizona, England) you are bound to walk into a stall where someone hasn’t flushed.

Some people might feel disgusted at the sight, some might assume a clog in the plumbing could be the problem and avoid the now untouchable stall.  I have a different theory.  I know what kind of sick fetishes some of you people entertain, and I’m on to your little conspiracy you coprophiliacs.   This is intentional.  It works like a penny cup at gas stations; if you need one take one, if you have one leave one.  This way sexual deviants across the world can give each other exciting fecal surprises while the unsuspecting public blindly carries on unaware.  Unlike most bathroom swingers, these people never need to meet.  No toe tapping foot play, just drop one load or the other (or both) and be on your way.

But I’m on to you.  And your conspiracy.  And I will flush every unflushed toilet I find.  You sickos.

Ha ha ha work.  Tuesday and Wednesday (the 11th & 12th) I was isolated in front of a computer for several hours of web-based-training.  Except to check in and begin I was for the most part unsupervised throughout all of my training and only got to meet the person who was to be my manager for less than 15 seconds.  I had questions and no one to answer them.  So needless to say when I went in on Thursday (13th) to begin my floor orientation and on job training and the manager had already left I was less than impressed.  The rest of the staff had been informed that I would be in, but what to do with me… here’s the 90 page handbook, an apron and a hat.  Read.  Come in tomorrow.

I was already getting pretty pissed off at HR and Management by this point in time and I wanted some direct contact with authority and I finally got it.  Eventually.  As I was headed to work I received a call asking if I could come in at 12 p.m. instead of 9 a.m.; it was 8:20 a.m. and Corporate would be in for inspection and discussion.

I went in at noon determined my day would be short for one of two reasons, neither pretty.  I met with Soni, the manager of Starbucks, and proceeded to give a professional but harsh review of the conclusions I was reaching based on the impressions I was receiving.  I got a full and thorough apology, introduced to other members of management, a full Q&A session where all my questions were answered and the promise for recommendation to a position in management if I show qualification (cake).  After that I began floor training exercises.

I was started on cup writing and handling the register.  Cup writing isn’t too bad, you just have to know all the stupid and basic abbreviations for the syrups and drinks and such.  The hard part was trying to jot it all down in the appropriate boxes as they were rattled off (people order some long complicated shit in 1 second).  The till is touch screen so it’s just a matter of finding the button.  Not hard, but a little overwhelming at times.  I think someone thought they recognized me and tried to heckle me.  It’s nice not knowing anyone.

Anyhow, I didn’t say or do anything that would cause me to get fired and I didn’t quit or walk-out.  If I can stomach this until a managerial (or any other) position in the store comes available I’m golden.  I can do that.