I hate taking long breaks from blogging only to come back and write an entire blog begging for forgiveness.

So I won't.

Since I've last blogged, I've started a new job. I work for Domestic Uniform Rental. It's not exactly the most prestigious job in the world, but I'm hoping my lack of shame in earning more money and being more responsible makes up for that lack of prestige.

My job consists of delivering uniforms, towels, rugs, and other linen-associated things. And, yes, picking up the dirty ones to be brought to our plant for cleaning. So now you see the entire cycle. A majority of my time is spent driving an obnoxiously large truck. I'm used to driving a 98 Dodge Neon, which is about as big as a large dog. Then I get in this huge truck and have to meander the streets of Center City with inches of room on either side. A bit unnerving to say the least. The mooney is good, and it's only going to get better. I'm working 3 hours earlier than I'm used to, but leaving about 3 hours earlier as well. That, in itself, is worth the job change. Especially now that it's warm out, because I get to do nice stuff outside with my pretty girlfriend.

I work with a LOT of cool guys. Not a bad one in the bunch. It's obvious that they dread the work they have ahead of them, but look forward to getting together at the end of the day to shoot the shit. Some guys stay an hour or two after they're done. I haven't really opened up to all of them yet, so I typically leave as soon as the opportunity presents itself. But I can see myself being friendly with these guys. I actually find it harder to AVOID that.

Well, I'm on the road now and that should also pretty much explain my absence from blogging.

Apologies.

Inbound and Outbound

I'm catching the train late today after I finished some paperwork for the new job I start in about a week. The sun is bright, the temperature is perfect, and the wind is slow but steady. I already find it hard to get on the train and leave all this, but now I'm watching something that makes it even harder.

A man has rode his bike to the train and taken a seat, by himself, on the outbound platform, opposite me. He's eating a pretzel covered in mustard and it's getting all over his face. He begins to mumble to himself and it occurs to me the man is mentally retarded. His bike is next to him, but it's not locked up. This man isn't catching a train anywhere. He came to watch the trains. On a sunny day like this one I can't be anything but jealous about his planned activities. He waves hello to everyone who walks by. If there's a train approaching the station he warns them about it. He mimicks to himself, word for word, the voice over announcing the approaching train.

"Caution. A train is approaching. Please do not cross the tracks."

He puts his 1 liter soda down and stands up to face the outbound train approaching. He waves vigorously and smiles to the conductor of the train. As the train leaves and I once again gain view of him, he is sitting down, devouring his huge salted pretzel.

I think about what he sees in me. Maybe he is jealous that he isn't as capable as I am. Maybe he wishes he could have a job and be normal. But I wish there was some way to prove to him that the people on the opposite side of the tracks envy him the same. And the direction we're headed is probably not as enviable compared to the direction he's headed.

As I got on the train I looked out to see him, standing in the sun, waving to the conductors. Without a care in the world.

Raindrops Keep Fallin' On My Head

I have an important job interview today. I'm taking a half day from my current job so that I can do it. I wore my interview-clothes to work so I had more time to go straight there when I was done. I thought I would do a last minute errand which was about 7 blocks away, and it wasn't raining so I left the umbrella behind thinking it would only slow me down (plus the rain had subsided for the time being). As I stepped outside it got real dark. There were shadows from car's headlights and streetlights. It looked like either a normal midnight, or an apocalyptic noon. I got to where I needed to be -- a business which no longer occupies the given address (thanks mean doorlady) and turned back to walk to City Hall.

BOOM!!

The loudest and most severe thunder clap I think I've heard in years. And, as if signaled to release upon the clap, a million arrows of rain simultaneously blanketed every square inch around me. People began running and using flat, large things to shield them from the rain. Knowing I had quite a walk in front of me, I continued my pace as normal submitting my dry, clean interview-clothes to the rain's wishing.

By the time I got to 15th and Market I was soaked from head to toe. Rain water dripping from my beard and spritzing from my lips as I blew the drops off into a mist.

At this point most people would be very upset. Rain, after all, is very symbolic of all things depressing. I'm sure you can picture a child with his head looking out the window at his brand new playset, with the shadows of the raindrops on the opposing side looking ironically like teardrops as they're cast on his face. Or the image of a field crew running across the baseball field, tarp in hands, as they cover the field in front of thousands of now-miserable fans. And you could just as easily picture me at that very moment. As I look up at the clock on City Hall clocktower (I like looking at that clock. It feels cool.) I lose track of where I'm going and step right into a huge puddle. I'm leary on calling it a puddle, because I'm pretty sure I could have sailed across it. My foot sinks in a good two inches, and as if to celebrate this occasion, a jerktaxi speeds into the same lakepuddle I was now drowning in and douses my already douses khakis. They were wet, now wetter. I couldn't get mad at him. At this point it would be like getting angry at someone who scratched your car after you slammed it into a telephone pole.

I came into City Hall looking like I was in the front row at a really interactive Sea World show. Everybody expected the drenched clothes to be accompanied by a frowny face, but I lacked a frowny face. I got the "Mann, I would be pissed!" and the "Ohh damn. Guess you can't make your interview, huh?", but I shrugged my shoulders as I rung out my favorite button down.

There's some things in life that make you so happy, not even vicious acts of nature can wash them away.

Wish me luck at my job "interview".

On Littering

The other day I was walking along Market Street and I noticed a woman drinking a very big energy drink from a can bigger than her head. The kind that split their nutrition facts into 8 servings. She turned it bottom-side up to get every last sugary, artificially flavored drop. As she came down from her motion she simply let go of the can. It dropped to the curb at the bus stop she was standing at. She smacked her lips and let out a satisfied "Ahhh" as I began to boil with rage. Before I even formulated what I was going to do I already began to do it. I said to her, in a very sarcastically nice manner, "Excuse me ma'am. You dropped something." She looked around her immediate area and said "What? No I didn't." at which point I made her notice the behemoth of a can she had so graciously thrown to the ground. At this point another man walking by had brought her attention to the same thing. She told me she didn't want it anymore and if I wanted it, I could pick it up. I went on to tell her how it wasn't mine and I was just doing her a favor by pointing it out. She said something along the lines of "Well it's trash now." in a very mean manner to which i slyly responded "Doesn't that belong in a trash can then?"

She yelled at me incoherently as I continued to walk by, but I know I did the right thing. (She was also ten feet from a trash can.)

If there is one thing that pisses me off more than anything it's when people purposely leave their trash on the ground because they are too lazy to find a trash can. The average littering individual may believe their contribution won't matter when looking at the grand scale of how dirty our city can sometimes look. But if EVERY littering individual just casually took four seconds out of their life to approach a trash can, we wouldn't have such a filthy city. Hold on to your bottle caps, your cigarette wrapper, your plastic bags etc. Because as an individual you're just a lazy slob, but as a group of lazy slobs we gain an image that isn't as easy to just leave by a curb and hope someone else takes care of.

Boring Update

Good morning.

I am a bad blogger. It's been entirely too long.

Today I woke up with only minor symptoms of the mystery stomach bug that invaded my body Saturday night. Ever feel like your intestines were literally flipped backwards and inflated? So weird. Well the doctor gave me a neat magical pill which straightened everything out. I ate like twice in the past three days.

No trees have been planted yet. We are not good at getting together on the same day and remembering to do so. Maybe we'll do it this weekend if we have time. I feel I need the proper necessities first. I have a good shovel (even though a small handshovel will work fine), but we could use some soil and maybe a chicken wire fence (to keep away chickens?). Gatsby hasnt grown much in the past week. i think he wants out. It's also been dreary and overcast the past few days so maybe he just needs a little sun and he'll get back into the swing of things.

Here I go, off to work. I have a job interview tomorrow so I have to leave early. I took off Monday and left early Tuesday due to the stomach bug. It's going to suck to ask to leave a few hours early Friday, because this whole week has just been real shitty for everyone, but I have to do it so I can only hope they'll understand.

Later!

Shadows

I took down all the posters in my room last night. I felt I was getting too old to have movie posters hang in my room. That night, as I laid in bed, I could see the shadow of my blinds created from the streetlight across the street. I hadn't seen them for about five years -- when i put up the posters. As I looked at the shadows on the wall I felt as if I was 17 again. But it was a short-lived moment, because nothing will ever be the same as it was five years ago.

I slept very well last night.

Return!/Gatsby

Wow! It's been so long! Well, fret not my loyal army of readers, my phone is back in action and that also means I am too. I will blog about my tree since I haven't been able to do so since I purchased it.

On the last day of the Philadelphia Flower Show, Kristin and I got a sweet ass deal on two infant redwoods. They were practically screaming for us from the "3 for $6" table. I was anxious to not return home empty handed so when I saw a twig in a pot of soil I said, "Why not?". I grabbed one for Kristin and one for me (the two biggrest twigs I saw) and was about to get in line to purchase them. We both figured "Cool. A nice little plant for us each to take care of and talk about." Wrong. I asked the friendly sales-lady what two objects I held in my hands and a little bit about how to take care of them. To our surprise I was holding two infant trees. She told us to keep them moist and give them plenty of sun. And not to plant them until the first day of Spring. We obliged. I asked her how tall these trees typically grow. She said "One fifty". We paused waiting for some unit of measurement we've never heard before. "Feet" she said. To which Kristin hastily responded "Sold!"

We chose our individual plants and took them to our respective houses. After a week of watering and feeding it sun via my bedroom window, my tree has grown about half an inch and has sprouted MANY tiny green leaves. It has also gained a name; Gatsby. I'm a sucker for literature and he's by far one of my favorite characters in any book ever.

Tomorrow is the first day of Spring. Tomorrow is when I plant Gatsby where he'll be (hopefully) for the next 1000 years. It will be a joyous occasion, but it will be terribly sad to see Gatsby out in the real world all by himself. Instead of a little plastic pot on my windowsill.