Enforced Fortunes

Hey...what's going on? 

Listening to Nostradamus, you? 

Wishing I was listening to Nostradamus. 

You and everyone else, my friend. You and everyone else. 

What better reason to write one of these old, familiar fortune cookie blogs, right?

Nostradamus was all about the fortunes.

Let's see, what do we have here...

Accident is the Mother of Invention

Okay...gonna start with that one, huh? Thanks.

Did you know the opposite of this phrase is "Invention of Mother the is Accident"? Remove one word and the result is what I would question, if I had a very thick Italian accent, Mike Pence about. "Invention of Mother is Accident"? Following immediately with "No?" I suppose after I got that one out of the way, I'd probably have thought of a few dozen other messages I'd enjoy relaying to Mike Pence, but that's neither here nor there. You know I prefer to stay out of these little political spats which do nothing to bridge divides. I prefer to ramp divides. Fuck those damned bridges. They know not what is good for them.


Be Careful or You Could Fall for Some Tricks Today

Does that mean I'm getting laid???? What's the problem here? Other than it's forty minutes past midnight and I've still got over 23 hours left in the day. Am I supposed to somehow just fall asleep knowing full well that at some point I'ze gonna get laid today?

I'll tell you what's not tricky. This Judas Priest album, Nostradamus.

"Open my heart, as a new day has dawned.
I see your light on the wings of a dove
Lifting me up, as the dark clouds retreat
My courage transcends and you make me complete
Open my heart, with the advent of spring
I am reborn, with the love that you bring"

What's also not tricky, is this dope new single I'm dropping, "Forty Minutes Past Midnight"! B side will be "Well, Guess This Isn't Happening".


An Eye for an Eye Makes the Whole World Blind

Or, just for fun, we won't go blind. How's that sound instead? Perhaps we can all see just as well as we are seeing right now, and then, maybe one day, we'll get Basix Lasix and realize that all this time we could have been something other than a dipshit. How awesome would that be? Just use the most common, basic tenets of being a decent human and we'd all be pretty good I think. Too many folks chose the Racix Lasix course instead. That's too bad. Some would say shame. I'm going to say Shame Bad.

Why do I say Shame Bad?

I was hoping you'd ask! Please tune into Public Access Channel 57 this Friday night at 9:30 PM for the debut of my new show, "Shame Bad! Bowsa Yowza!". It will be me doing all of Sinbad's best comedy standup routines! I guarantee this will be just as hilarious as Sinbad doing his own Sinbad routines! Seriously, I guarantee that. I do.

I lied.

Tune in anyway!


Life is a Play. It's Not it's Length, but it's Performance that Counts

I bet my play would be way more popular than all of your plays. Porn content is always more popular than whatever family friendly play you'd be performing. That's not where the benefits stop, either. Mine would also most likely resemble some sort of Jazzercise class. Not exactly sure if I even know what a Jazzercise class resembles, but my play would definitely require a rather intense aerobic exercise element. So right there. Porn and exercise. You can't beat that...unless, and god damnit!...you can't...uhhhhhhhh...your porn/play is better than mine, isn't it? I fucking knew I should've hired Mother to play lead. 


Je suis au bout de ma vie
Ma tâche est finie
Je passe de ce monde à un autre
Mes prémonitions survivront
Prenez garde à mes paroles
Par ce qu'elles adviendront
Le patrimoine que j'ai laissé
L'avenir de l'humanité


MrrojaMrMnItseRecaeP

Geez Louise, These Mom Eulogies...

Some folks asked me to share this as they weren't there to hear it for the first and the only time, so here you have it...

I’ve struggled quite a bit trying to figure out what to say right now…trying to figure out what words could possibly sum up the enormity of Mom’s impact on everyone here and I finally realized that it’s basically an impossible task. I won’t be able to convey what she meant to all of us with words, but that’s all I have. I didn’t bother studying sign language like Mom did, so this is all you get. 

When my Dad died, I felt as if I should get up and talk at his funeral, but I didn’t. 

I was just a kid.

I was scared. 

I didn’t think I could stand up there in front of everyone and actually say anything that mattered enough to deserve being up there in the first place, and I sure didn’t think I’d be able to read whatever I may have prepared with a constant stream of tears running down my face. I was probably right about that, but I still feel I should have said something. I didn’t. 

  

Dad’s exit was brief, unexpected and shattering. I remember being in the kitchen at Mom’s and Jennifer telling me that Dad was in a coma and in that moment I thought to myself that he wouldn’t be coming out of it. I don’t know when he first felt it, but his whole life was spent battling an illness that never relented, never left, never allowed for a simple bit of happiness and piece of mind. His death may have seemed quick to us, but with each day being nothing more than a struggle to reach the next, I’m sure it felt like an eternity for Dad.

Mom called me at work on October 5th, 2016 and left a message asking me to call her back as soon as I could. That wasn’t the normal Mom message and when I went outside and called her back, she let me know her doctors had found something in her lung that wasn’t quite right.

I’ve had 15 months to prepare for this, but I didn’t do a very good job with those preparations. I was lulled into a false sense of everything is going to be okay when she received her cancer free diagnosis a few months later. I just assumed she was going to be the exception to the rule. I believed she had beaten it. If anyone deserved to be here as long as possible, it was Mom. I wasn’t naive enough to think it wouldn’t still be a battle, but I just assumed it would be a battle that she would always have the upper hand in. 

I was naive, I was ignorant, and I was very wrong. 

For whatever reason, cancer always seems to get the upper hand. 

It’s times like these where I wish I had my Mom’s faith. 

Hers wasn’t a pretend faith.

Hers wasn’t a blind faith.

Hers wasn’t this one is the right faith. 

Hers was the best kind of faith.

The kind that is decent.

The kind that is caring. 

The kind that has no strings attached. 

It was a quiet and unassuming faith. 

Her faith was real. 

Mom took what she had been taught early on in life to a level that I don’t think most people ever reach. 

Oops…there I go again making assumptions and judging. 

Now you know why I don’t have her kind of faith. Don’t judge another until you’ve walked a mile in their shoes, right?

I’m pretty sure Mom must have been wearing shoes that were one size fits all as I don’t think she needed to try on other peoples shoes, let alone walk a mile in them. She already seemed to know how they fit. She just let you be you and that was the end of it. No questions asked. If you needed someone to talk to for whatever reason, she was always there ready to listen. 

I wish I had that kind of faith, but I don’t. Not like Mom. 

The last few days and nights my brothers and sisters and I took turns watching over her and taking care of her as she slipped farther and farther beyond our understanding. Her words, which were always so clear and concise, reverted back into sounds which made no sense to us. All we wanted was to understand her one more time so we could make sure she was comfortable and not in pain, but we couldn’t. We just had to guess at what she needed, much like what she had done for all of us all those years ago.

For her sake, I hope one of us managed to guess correctly. 

All I ever hear when someone dies is that God must have had other plans for that person. Plans which, conveniently, always seem to be more important than the plans they were supposed to be taking care of here on Earth. 

I’m just not convinced that’s always the case. It doesn’t make sense to me. 

I watched as the priest knelt down and absolved my Mom of all her sins. I spent the next few days trying to convince her to absolve me of all my sins against her, but I’m not sure how successful I was at that. I also told her that if God needs her more up there than he does down here, things must have really taken a turn for the worse up there in heaven. I didn’t think that sort of thing was possible, as it’s heaven and it’s supposed to be all good, right, but something must have gone haywire. Who knows…perhaps they just had a need for a more competent, skilled secretary capable of processing all the new applicants in a timely manner and assigning each of them their own cloud? I don’t have any idea. Let’s just go with that one though…It makes as much sense as anything else to me right now. 

Perhaps I don’t have that faith that Mom had during her life, but I had enough faith here at the end to give her one last bit of advice for her journey upwards. Mom loved her music, but always at a low volume. She didn’t always take too kindly to the turned up all the way music coming from the bedroom next to hers. I tried to tell Dan to quiet it down, but he just never listened…shocking, I know. I told her that she needed to stop off along the way and pick up a good pair of ear plugs as she was about to experience the loudest, most thunderous applause ever received at those pearly gates. 

Sail on Silver Girl

Sail on by

Your time has come to shine

All Your dreams are on their way

Thank you for being the very best a person can be Mom! I love you! 

Hi Ya! Sushi Fortune.

To be honest, I didn't realize that sushi restaurants handed out fortune cookies, but apparently this one does. My brother Dan has asked me countless times to accompany him to an all you can eat sushi restaurant over by Martyr's and most of the time, I've declined the invitation, but a few weeks ago, I didn't.

I should have.

That's no fault of the quality of the restaurant or the quality of the sushi. It was just that the restaurant wasn't going to be open all that long and I guess I'm just too old to sit and stuff appetizers and seaweed salad and nigiri and sushi down the gullet as fast as...perhaps that 400 pound dude Trump said might be infiltrating the DNC servers. Now I don't know if that hacker was a fan of sushi, but if he really was 400 pounds, I'm going to guess he might have fared better than I did that night.

Super fatty white tuna or whatever it is called is still my favorite.

I don't care if that's racist or not. I can't help it.

And obviously, I'm no stranger to body shaming creatures of the sea.

Near the end of this fast paced culinary shenanigan, not only was I lamenting my last order, but upon it's arrival, I was eating the fish and stuffing all the rice into a napkin...which eventually ended up being pocketed in my hoodie so we were assured no extra charges. Yeah, I know...Dan and I only eat sushi at the classiest of sushi joints. Go fuck yourself if you're judging us right now. And yes, I threw that balled up rice into the nearest garbage can once we exited the restaurant.

So here's the deets on that fortune.

Daily Numbers 2, 7, 4

Lotto Six #'s 55, 82, 64, 9, 36, 20

It's that desperate that they are actually just giving out the lotto numbers as opposed to just a string of lucky numbers? Just one more reason for me to despise whatever this is we've all come to recognize as existence.

And the fortune...

A Modest Man Never Talks of Himself.

Not true at all, but I understand where this sushi sage is coming from.

Sometimes you need to talk about yourself and your own experiences in order to convey some sort of wisdom to another. However, and this is where I agree with this fish finder, most of the time, it's not necessary.

I've been subject to a few experiences over the past few years that when I need to talk about them to someone else most of the time as soon as I'm done expressing a bit of why I need to talk, they've already spent most of that time not listening to my words, but thinking about what similar experiences they've had and just how they are going to tell me all about those experiences which I really couldn't give a shit about, as those experiences are nothing like what I'm experiencing and have just about no relevance to my desire to escape the mental abyss I'm all too easily cascading down.

I get it. It's just natural to throw out your own experience, but for the sake of whoever you are talking to just don't for at least seven minutes after you realize someone needs to talk about whatever the heck they need to talk about. Just listen. Just listen. Suck up your need to talk about your own experience and let that person vent for just a bit. I'm only asking seven minutes of your time. Most likely, after seven minutes, enough heartache or sorrow or anger will have been expressed that you can finally breathe easy and let your own narcissistic freak flag fly. Let it out. Shout out your personal understanding. Let it out.

And if, by chance, it only takes them three minutes to vent, I'd suggest you stay silent for the remaining four minutes. That will give you both plenty of time to fully understand the depth of what's been presented. For the venter, that four minutes will most likely allow for the realization that whatever they were bitching about really wasn't that important if it only lasted three minutes, and for the listener, you'll have four minutes with which to come up with something, anything to tear this muthersucker complainer a new one to let him or her know they shouldn't waste your time like this!

Or you can just spend four minutes trying to cower down inside their shoes where the fear smells the most.

I'd suggest the latter, rather than the former.

Now I just need to take my own advice and put it into use.

I try. I do try, but it's not always so easy.

Nothing seems to be easy these days.

I'm not sure if I'm here to learn from others and live life to the fullest, or if I'm just here to be some sort of example (good or bad) to someone else.

Right now, I feel like the latter.

I wish I was EZ Dave Haines right now. That dude must've had it so easy.

Sleazily Easy at that.

Happy Xmas (War Is Over...Mom Edition)

So this is Christmas
And what have you done
Another year over
And a new one just begun
And so this is Christmas
I hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

Christmas is in what, three days?

I haven't bought any gifts. Not one. Haven't even thought about it actually. I just don't care all that much about gift giving at the moment. It doesn't concern me and I'm sorry if some kiddos will be disappointed to just receive a card and some cash, but that's just the way it's going to be this year.

I wish I could just chalk it up to being a scrooge, but that wouldn't be quite accurate. That's not to say there weren't years in the past where it would have been quite accurate, but that's neither here nor there. Okay, maybe it's slightly accurate, perhaps 10%, but not enough for me to count that as being truly accurate.

And don't get me wrong, I'm actually looking forward to Christmas this year, as it's a bit of a change of pace with family members from both sides of the family joining in the festivities. That doesn't happen often. Actually, I'm not sure I can recall it ever happening. My Dad's brother Lou and his wife  Judy are hosting out there in Elmhurst. Unfortunately, my Dad won't be able to make it this year, but that's okay. I've sort of come to expect that that's just how it's going to be most years and I can't really blame him for making that decision. Sometimes those family gatherings can be a bit stressful, ya know? Fortunately, Mom and all the kids and plenty of aunts and uncles and cousins will be there, so good times will surely be had by all.

A very Merry Christmas
And a happy new year
Let's hope it's a good one
without any fear

I really do hope it's a good one for all of us. Pretty sure most of us deserve that at the minimum.

Personally, 2017 isn't going to go down in my history book as one of my favorite years, and to be honest, I'm quite a bit fearful of what 2018 will bring.

My Dad has been skipping these Christmas get togethers for almost 30 years now, so I'm kind of used to it, but I'm not ready for my Mom to start doing the same. I've had plenty of time to prepare for it, but there's just no amount of time sufficient to prepare for such a thing. I've spent the past 42 Christmases with my Mom and in a few days I'll spend my 43rd with her, but I'm scared that there won't be a 44th. Mom was diagnosed with stage IV stupid cancer last October and she did all she could to defeat it...was even declared cancer free at one point, but as we all know, that sort of thing doesn't always last too long and, unfortunately, that's the case this time.

And so this is Christmas
For weak and for strong
For rich and the poor ones
The world is so wrong
And so happy Christmas
For black and for White
For yellow and red one
Let's stop all the fight

My Mom is very pragmatic. She looks at the facts and makes a decision. Of course that's not to say she doesn't sometimes take forever to make a decision, but she's not one to let emotions get in the way of that final decision. She deals in logic. I appreciate that. Much better than having to deal with some nut job who either can't understand the facts or who let their emotions control all of their decision making. Not to mention the poor souls who do both of these things. Buban's don't have time for that kind of bullshit. Mom has taken in all the information, weighed it all, and decided, that for her, it's time to skip out on future cancer treatments. She's had enough.

And if you're wondering, no, she did not consult with me on this decision. I'm not sure why, but if I had to guess, it's because it's not really any of my damn business. It's not my fight. I have no say in when it gets to be over. I don't really want a say. I just want my Mom to hopefully have some more days where she might feel decent. Might be able to eat some breakfast and enjoy it. Might be able to step outside and go for a walk just for the fun of it. Might decide to read a bit of some book she's been putting off. Might have some more energy to yell at Michael about something. Might have some time to send me that $41,817 she owes me for all the chores I did back in the day that she promised to reimburse me for, but never did (FYI, I've included interest payments in that calculation). Might have some time to sit back and just look out the window and watch a few birds fly by while thinking about how nice the day is. Might just do whatever the heck she feels like doing without feeling sick.

I wish I could give her that.

I wish I could give her that.

I wish I could give her that.

Perhaps I can to some small degree.

I can try, right?

Apparently, I was mistaken.

I do have a gift to give, I just didn't realize it.

And no one I've ever known deserves it more than my beautiful Mom.

She's the best!

A very Merry Christmas
And a happy new year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear

And so this is Christmas
And what have we done
Another year over
A new one just begun
And so happy Christmas
We hope you have fun
The near and the dear one
The old and the young

A very Merry Christmas
And a happy new year
Let's hope it's a good one
Without any fear
War is over, if you want it
War is over now

I love you Mom!

Extraordinary Things of the Ordinary.

Brain Cramp.

I never knew Cubs catcher Alex Avila's last name was pronounced Ahhveelahh. All those years of fantasy baseball didn't do shit for me as far as correct pronunciation of names go. It's not Ahveela. Lesson learned.

At some point I'm going to write a post about my cat, but now is not that time. Regardless, she's the most lovable cat I've ever come across, and that includes the kitty red light districts that I've visited over in Iowa.

We're taking it slow though.

How about that Blue Cross commercial featuring just one of many amazingly great songs by 10, 000 Maniacs?

It's Friday night. I'm watching the Cubs/Phillies game and not really liking the results at this point. Cubs will come back though...as soon as this Philly nicknamed Eick leaves the mound. Completely odd and unexpected season for the Cubs following that World Championship 2016 season. That's baseball for ya.

Looks like there isn't going to be a 2017 Buban Bash in case you were wondering. Mark doesn't care. Dan doesn't care. Jennifer is noncommittal. I'm also sort of in that camp. We've got more important things to do with our time I guess. A year off will just make the next one that much better, right?

Maybe.

Work is lined up to kick my ass next week, but it won't. I'll make sure everything gets finished and shipped out on time. I've got seven different projects which all have to ship on Friday. The largest one is about 530 packages, each of which contain some combination of 125 different graphics. I'm still trying to figure out how to organize this one, but I will figure it out. That's what they pay me for.

Ahhh....work....thinking about you on the weekends...

Lame.

Let's go Happ. Bases loaded and you swung through the curve.

Oh and by the way, yes, my cat is lying next to me on the couch.

Happ strikes out. Inning over.

Cubs still down to these stupid Phillies.

Cat is still here. Cat brush is in my sight. Cat needs a good brushing. Okay...three minutes of cat brushing. Hold on.

I gave her an extra minute of brushing and then an extra minute of petting. Such a happy kitty.

Texted a friend about that lying kitty of mine to find out if it's laying or lying. She went with lying so that's what you readers got. I did google it first, but it's still confusing to me and she's pretty damn smart as far as writing and grammar is concerned. Also talked it over with my roommate and we delved into a slightly different conversation about grammar. Two grammar conversations in one night is probably two too many, but that's what my Friday nights consist of these days.

Well at least this one.

Hope you kids aren't talking grammar tonight.

Looks like the Cubs are just going to be dominated by the Phillies tonight.

That's baseball.

My roommate said the message was more important than the grammar. I agree with him to a certain extent, but I do find it difficult to receive a message when it's presented within writing which resembles something a lab chimpanzee might hope to come up with after a few months of practice.

Anyway...

Father's Day

I'm having the kind of night that used to be so commonplace, but now rarely happens. Just hanging out at home alone and listening to some music at a pretty decent volume. I'm spending some time with a few albums that have been on the back burner for far too long. I like to be immersed in my music and the only way to do that is to play it as loud as possible given the circumstances and time. Saturday night is usually a good time. Oh sure I could put headphones on and listen as loudly as I want for as long as I want, but it's not the same. Nowhere near the same, mostly because it doesn't sound as good and, more importantly, I can't belt out the lyrics while pretending to be able to sing well.

I started out with half a Frank Black album, followed it with the entirety of Living Colour's Times Up album, one Megadeth tune, a few Melvins songs and for the past hour and a half Natalie Merchant solo stuff. Her music, lyrics and voice are incomparable in my humble estimation. Bigly under appreciated.

Anyway, that's not the point of this blog. It's Father's Day!

Oddly enough, I had an actual conversation around the water cooler at work on Friday with my friends Andy and Marianne. Father's Day came up and I told both of them that my Dad and I were going to go fishing on the river to celebrate, which seemed pretty plausible as far as I was concerned, but my story fell apart when I was asked which river we would be fishing on. Having no decent response, I finally blurted out that it was all a lie and that my Dad has been dead for like 30 years. Andy laughed and said his Dad had been dead for just as long and walked away. Marianne just looked at me and shook her head in some odd state of disbelief.

It's only been 28 years if my math is correct.

So I won't be fishing with him, but I'll give you a small story that has been seared into my brain for too many years. My parents separated in 1980, so we all moved out to Batavia, sans father. At some point, I was able to go spend every other weekend with him in Chicago. I can't recall if this particular weekend was around my birthday or Christmas or perhaps neither, but my Dad drove my brother Dan, and I think our neighbor Andy and myself to Toys 'R Us where my Dad was going to buy me a present. After much careful deliberation, I finally decided on a Lego set that was some sort of rocket launch pad. This wasn't the crazy intricate Lego sets that they have nowadays, but as a kid way back then, it seemed like it was.

Once we got home, I got right to work putting that Lego set together, with a bit of help from Andy and Dan. I do not remember how long it took to complete but at some point it was finished and that rocket was ready for launch.  I vaguely recall what the final project looked like...the flat base was about ten inches square and just filled with that Lego circle pattern, the rocket was probably about seven inches tall and made up of circular Lego pieces. Don't remember what else was on there, but I assume some building as well as a launch station. That would be kind of lame if it was just a square flat board with one rocket sticking out of it, but whatever...that's neither here nor there.

This weekend must have been pretty early on in my visits to Chicago as my Father was still living on the first floor and not in the basement. Almost all of my weekend visits that I can remember were in the basement, as the top two floors of the building were rented out to tenants. Anyway, back to the story.

Day turns to night and my bed for the weekend was the couch in the living room. This may seem odd to you that I only had a couch to sleep on, but I was used to it, as that's the exact same sleeping option I had out in Batavia. The couch faced all the windows in the living room and the street light poured in  illuminating the room and the Lego set I was so happy to have and so proud to have completed.

That night my bedtime did not coincide with my Father's bedtime. Much like my night tonight, he decided to play some albums at a pretty loud volume for a quite some time. I don't recall exactly what he was listening to, but odds are pretty good that it was Elvis Presley. Needless to say, that night he wasn't exactly in the best of moods, which isn't really all that surprising since it probably hadn't been too long since his wife had left him and taken all six of their children with her. I can see that being difficult to endure for just about everyone, but perhaps even a bit more difficult for someone who had been dealt with the fun curse of being manic depressive. My father was not a happy man and it wasn't difficult for me to realize it that night while he was pacing back and forth throughout the apartment listening to music which should have been providing him pleasure, but clearly wasn't. Knowing what I know now about relationships, I would imagine the music was just sparking memories which were best forgotten, but clearly not enough time had passed for that to happen.

At a few different points while I was trying to fall asleep my Dad's pacing brought him into the living room and during those times I just closed my eyes and pretended to be asleep. Guess I knew that in whatever state he was in it wasn't a good one and it was probably best if he just assumed I was fast asleep. Of course I was just a kid so I'd quickly sneak a peak every now and again and if he had his back turned I'd just silently watch his actions. Though I couldn't understand the pain he was feeling at that age, it was all too easy to recognize the sadness and anger consuming him that night.

I don't know how long it was that this pacing was going on, but at some point I watched as he walked into the living room, passed by the couch and continued towards the far end of the room. With the street light streaming in on my Dad, I watched  as he quickly raised his right arm and then violently brought it down in a sweeping motion which completely destroyed that Lego set I had built a few hours earlier.  I can't recall exactly what went through my head at that time, but I know it was some feeling of devastation. It was one thing for him to be upset and angry at life that night, but it was a completely different feeling having him destroy the present he had bought me earlier that day. I'm not sure how to describe what I felt, as it was a new emotion I don't think I had ever known before.

I just continued pretending to be asleep and when he finally left the room I buried my head in the couch and started to cry.

So there's my Father's Day story.

I guess we didn't exactly have what many might recognize as the typical kind of Dad portrayed on all those boob tube sitcoms, but I'm not sure anyone really has that kind of Father. What we had for way too short of a time was a very troubled person who had an extremely difficult time finding some semblance of happiness in life. I don't know what he thought of Fatherhood when it first happened and I'm not sure he was ready for that sort of responsibility, but I do believe he did the very best he could and I know that he loved all of us kids regardless of his ability to show it.

My father was honest, he was kind, he was quirky, and he made all of us laugh quite a bit.

You can all keep your own Fathers and whatever it is they brought to the table. I wouldn't trade mine for all the Lego sets in the world.

So here's the requisite Father's Day picture of me and my Dad. This is from 1980 and taken at my Grandma Buban's house on Christmas. The awesome REO Speedwagon album is a present for my sister Jennifer. My lips are stained red from drinking Hi-C and yes, those are sweet Dubble Bubble gum patches on my knees.

Happy Father's Day!

Starting Over

"It's been too long since we took the time...".

A bit of John Lennon for you. Great song, maybe I'll listen to it, but actually I won't. Not at this time. Was just looking over my blog and reminiscing about the times way back when...when I actually used to write blogs. Those days seem to have passed, but they haven't, I've just retreated from writing for many reasons, none of which are actually decent. If there's one constant in my life, it's my ability to be inconsistent. I'm great at it. I suppose there are better things to be great at, but we all get what we sow and apparently, this is what I've sowed. It doesn't seem like much of a good thing, but who knows? It may very well turn out to be the best thing. The answer will reveal itself at some point or I'll just have to force the issue and unmask it myself.

It's 1:09 am on a Thursday night and normally I would have been in bed about 3.5 hours ago, but I took a few vacation days just to get away from work for a while. I didn't know it at the time when I requested these days off that it would come at a time when I was really, really, really happy to not be at work. You see, I've worked at this company for just about two and a half years and I've really actually enjoyed being there all this time, which isn't necessarily all that normal, especially in the printing industry. That's not to say I haven't been pissed off or annoyed from time to time...that sort of thing always happens, but this time I was actually pissed off for several days and didn't actually know what I was going to do about it. My responsibilities were changed and I wasn't happy about it. Actually, my responsibilities were shifted, not necessarily changed. I'm not going to go into specifics, as that's not really blog appropriate. It was just sort of shocking to finally not be happy about my situation at this company, that's all. I guess the good times just never last, eh?

I'll see what happens. In reality, this is actually the owners placing their trust in me that they know what they want me to do I will be able to do and I will be able to do it well. That's a good thing, but the specifics of that good thing kind of suck for me as far as work goes and as far as commutes go and as far as just enjoying the camaraderie at work goes. Oh well. I'll just have to suck it up and hope that it helps out the company and helps me out in the long run. Two and a half years ago I was hired to run a digital press they purchased. There was only so much work to do on that press so I started to learn how to run another printing press they had. Then they asked me to learn how to run a router, so I did that. Then they sent me to the warehouse to run the router over there and I did that for the next few months in the sweltering heat of summer. No A/C in the warehouse. Nine months after I was hired they asked me to train someone else to run the digital press so I could move into a production position, which is sort of a management/customer service/salesperson lackey job, so I did that. I've done everything they've ever asked of me and I guess that was valuable to some extent. They knew they could rely on me to get things done correctly and on time. They still know that, but this new situation still kind of sucks.

Let's hope it works out for the best. Guess I'll just have to make sure that it does. That's just what I do at work.

Not sure why I don't do the same in my personal life. My inconsistency at home doesn't really exist at work. It has gotten better at home, but it's still not the same. I guess when there are others who have control of my financial existence I tend to make sure I do what I can to ensure that that existence is secure. When I'm on my own at home I'm the only one that has a say in what I do or don't do. I have gotten better over the past couple years, that's for sure, but I'm not where I want to be. I may never be where I want to be as I'm extremely critical of myself most of the time. There are many blogs I've written that are just lying dormant because I just wasn't quite sure they were worth publishing. That's stupid. This is a blog for my friends and family and I'm pretty sure none of you give a shit if they aren't all ridiculously amazing.

Ha. As if any of them were ever ridiculously amazing. That's a high standard that is kind of stupid in this medium, but I'll settle for all of you just thinking they are entertaining enough to keep you reading 'til the end.

Or even halfway through I suppose.

That's not true. If that's as far as you can bother to get, I've failed.