Here I am, in my favourite seat a\on my favorite White Spot, writing a blog entry onthe laptop Ross gave me.
I have used the laptop a bunch since I got it, but that mostly for, shall we say, private browsing. The kind that happens behind closed doors.
By the way, if anyone is offended by my talking about my sex life, I am sorry. But it is not going to change any time soon.In fact, I will likely get far more explicit in the future. I am a gay man going through the sort of sexual awakening that most people have as teens or at the latest in their early 20’s (yay college), and I have a lot of catching up to do.
Heck, I am even considering “hooking up” online. That is huge for me.
The laptop’s keyboard behaves mysteriously sometimes.Ross warned me about that, though. And a lot of the mysterious bahaviour is caused by my big fat fingers using an ALMOST full sized keybaord.
Adjusting to a new keyboard is always tricky at first, and the fact that this one is basically what you would get if you took a standard keyboard and removed 99 percent of the space between keys does not help.
corBut I will persist and adapt. e
Today has been pretty meh. Between sleep and, Internet at home going down for an hour and a half during my most productive hours, then coming out to cash my check and get a meal and do some shopping, my work report for today is going to be pretty dismal.
I hope to compensate for that in the evening.
I am pondering getting a “normal” job. It would give me current job experience and that would assure prospective employers that I have passed the vital “shows up and does the \\that job and doesn’t murder people” test.
That assumes I can get hired. I would have to target places with a high turnover rate and hence fairly low standards.I have a twenty year gap in my job history and that is something that would give any hirer pause.
My dream job would be to man the till at a small bookshop with a cat.
Or maybe I will try to start some sort of home based business. I could really enjoy being a writer for hire, writing whatever ground-level people need written. Letters to landlords, family biographies, wedding vows… you name it, I will write it. It would bring me some income as well as a variety of fun challenges to my skills. It would also help me fulfill my desire to stand up for the inarticulate and keep them from being pushed around by highly intelligent and articulate people like myself.
Kinda of like being a white hat hacker, but for words.
Mental note : try to get the term “word hacker” adopted by popular culture.
So who know, maybe I will hang my shingle out as a public pen. It could be a lot of fun.
Well that is half my words, which was my goal.Time to go shop.
Man, will this need proofreading when I get home.
Back home now. Did my shopping and called a cab, like I usually do. Sure it’s only four or five blocks between the supermarket at home, but I nearly always buy some type of frozen foods and I want to get home before they melt.
Of course, I am also lazy. I mean, I took a bus to get there!
Anyhoo, my food ending up melting some anyway because I waited in the hot sun for twenty minutes before a cab showed up.
Bonus points for me, though, because I I did call back and complain when it had been fifteen minutes, and I didn’t complain meekly and apologetically either. I let the frustration come through in my voice, and I that, for me, is a major assertiveness achievement.
Some weird shit happened while I was waiting. This teenager with the mandatory sleeve tattoos and snotty attitude apparently backed into someone’s car in the Price Mart parking lot…. then came back. So I got to watch some security guard grab the kid and harangue him tough guy style. He actually said, “I find chunks of bigger guys than you in my stool! ”
I did not know people actually said things like that.
This incident brought back memories of being a smartass teen myself. I didn’t drive or anything, but I remember getting hassled by the security guards at the mall and feeling like I was being unfairly discriminated against just because I was a teenager.
They never harassed me directly, though. It was always a “you people get out of here” type of thing. So I never got into a direct altercation with any of them.
I will give them this, though : we did look pretty disreputable. I mean, what did the bad guys look like in the 80’s once they stopped being punks?
Metalheads. Which is what we were.
Still, I am glad that it wasn’t the me of today that had to deal with teen hating rent-a-cops. I was far meeker back then. The me of today would have given that supermarket security guard the razzing of his life.
“Wait, so you spend a long time looking at your poo? That’s gross, dude. What are you, some kind of poo sniffing pervert? And if you’re finding chunks of people in your shit, that means you’re a cannibal too. You’re a fucking cannibal shit freak, and you think you have the authority to tell US what to do? Get real!”.
If I had actually been a teenager at the time (instead of stopping the growing up process at like age 12), I would have been incredibly insufferable. It would have been me with the big ego and the smug assurance that he was always the smartest guy in the room and the ability to prove it at the drop of a hat as well.
Instead, I am only getting started with that stage of my development right now, and there is no way for a 44 year old to get away with acting like that.
Still, I think I will try to learn a thing or two from that utterly insufferable imaginary version of me. I often am the smartest guy in the room, and there has to be a way for me to make that work for me.
Maybe it’s time I started using my powers for my own gain.
I want my piece of the pie.
I will talk to you nice people again tomorrow.