Of Mice and Men

This mrning at work, over by the bird seed, I happened upon a mouse that was wounded but still alive. It looked like it had been rolled over by one of the ladders on wheels. The base of its tail was skinned pretty badly and blood trickled from its backside. Exposed and helpless out on a cold concrete floor is no place to pass, so to save its dignity, I got my leather gloves and picked it up to remove it. The mouse didn't try to run, it didn't even flinch, it just sat there in my palm, sniffing and blinking. I think it knew it was already going to die. I took it outside to the edge of the parking lot and placed it under a low dense shrub. I could feel my heart shatter as it struggled using its two good front feet to pull itself farther under the bush.

Did I do the right thing? Would a quick mercy killing have been better? I can't help but feel that by chickening out from my own ick factor, I only prolonged the poor creature's slow inevitable death.

Later, after lunch, I was back on the floor. Walking up to the seasonal department desk, Kelly gleefully pointed down into a small cardboard box she had. "See what I found!" she said as I looked down upon a tiny little baby mouse nibbling on a Cheez-It. The little guy was easily the size of a quarter. I picked it up and it settled right into my hand, crawling up to my wrist as I used a finger to pet it. I took my other hand over top and made a clamshell, and the mouse pressed its tiny body into the back. When I tried to put it back in the box, it resisted by climbing up away from whatever angle I held my hand and back into my palm, so I picked it up level again along with a cheez-it crumb. I pet it for a few more minutes while it nibbled on the cracker.

It almost felt like a symbolic reincarnation of sorts. In my imagination, that little injured mouse came back to me to say "Thanks, friend."

I swear I don't make this up...

Saturday, at work, I was helping two guys decide on a grill to buy. Being the assembler and not a sales person, I tell it like it is instead of up-selling, and people seem to appreciate that. Anyhoo, these two guys must've been lesser than or equal to my own age. I'm 26. Both were dressed to the nines in yuppie casual clothes. They weren't rude or unpleasant (they were actually pretty cool to talk to), but by the slightly elevated volume of their voices and carefree nature, you could definitely detect an air of confidence that most people don't normally exhibit. After settling on a $700 Jenn-Air grill, I helped them load it into a brand new extended-cab, Cummins turbo diesel, dually Pick 'em up truck. (taint cheap) I had to wonder what the hell these guys did to have so much money at such a young age. Of course, that gave birth to the question of why I didn't have any money at such a late stage of my professional development...and as per usual, I started whigging out over my redneck lot in life.

Later that night, wallowing in my wonton soup, I was blessed with another fortune cookie:

"Good to begin well, better to end well."

I realized that as long as I keep trying, as long as I don't stop working toward my goal, it's ok to have a slightly crummy beginning. Those guys are off to a damn good start, and I wish them the best down the road, but as long as I persevere I'll earn my better ending.

Wow. I feel better.

Picture this while singing the "Rocky" theme song

I don't know what the weather is doing in your neck of the woods, but today here in Troy it is WINDY. I stepped outside on break and immediately a gust of wind whipped the ballcap straight off my head. Remember the scene when Rocky Balboa is training against the Russian dude, part of which is to look like a clumsy ass and chase a chicken around the barnyard? That was me this morning with my crazy hair, grasping and lunging at my hat skittering across Lowe's parking lot.

It's not that I bottle up my emotions because of some 'manly men don't cry' thing. I think I'm just waiting for the right time to let them go. Now is not that time.

Today, the moment I've been waiting years upon years to happen, happened:

I was asked by some people to hang out with them.

At first I thought Woody and Tyler were joking, I mean, me? Me?? Invited into their circle of friends? I was so flattered I must've turned ten shades of purple. This has never happened before. The earth shook beneath my feet. Of course, I told them no.

I've basically given up on having friends. It's just too goddamn stressful having to worry about how she'll react to them. I had them at one time, you know. There's still Michelle and Daniel, but activity with them has dropped to going and getting Indian food with them once a month or so. Essentially, the friends I can call my own have been whittled down to one who moved down to Cincinnati a few years ago. He calls maybe once a month, sometimes less. The phone rings, she looks at the caller ID. Craig. "Don't answer it." I answer anyway. Foot stomps and cursing. I can't fucking deal with that. It's so much easier to just let the friends go then have them call and hear her cussing at me in the background. Craig, Niraj, I am sorry. I promise I haven't forgotten about you.

I'm not even going to entertain the notion of hanging out with Woody and Tyler.

Context

At work, the following conversation was overheard...

Woman: "Did you get that thing for the Christmas tree?"
Man: "No, not yet."
Woman: "Well, go get one, yours isn't long enough!"

--------

Also, here at good ol' Lowe's, there is a Holiday Ideas magazine we sell for $3.95. All well and good, except for the fact that every "idea" in the magazine involves items sold here. It's kinda tacky, yet the neutral observer in me almost has to admire the tactic. Charging 4 bucks for what amounts pretty much to a sunday paper circular glossed over as a legitimate Martha Stewart-esque publication. Brilliant.

Internet society

After completing the latest version of my profile, I clicked on "Sneakers" to see if anybody else liked it. Sho 'nuff I find I am not as alone as I think in this cinematically-challenged world. The second profile on the list that pulled up is, I think, one of the most perfect blogs I've come across:

contraversion.com

Does it get any better than this? I mean this girl is the closest thing to a real-life Bridget Jones. Helen Fielding couldn't've written it any better. Reasons I like this blog:

1) Short ADD-friendly posts
2) Lives in San Fransico, how awsome is that?
3) Not trying to knock anybody out with intellectual superiority
4) Written in a down to earth conversational tone, not bloated dramatic prose
5) Humble and humorously self-depricating without any 'poor me' crap (like mine)
6) Finds the amusing, absurd and the beautiful within simple daily life
7) Has this fantastic irreverence
8) Documents a genuinely interesting life
9) No long-winded political diatribes, just well thought out opinions
10) Did I mention she lives in San Francisco?

Is it me, or is it kinda...well...perverted to peek so closely into the world of a total stranger? Not sexually, but socially perverted. I mean, I'm not reading anything that she didn't post herself for all to see. There's just something terribly voyeuristic about this, it's almost creepy in a fun sneaky nosy kinda way. But then, does blogging your own feelings somehow cancel out the creepiness, like matter and anti-matter? ...blogging and anti-blogging? "Hey, it's ok that I'm a total stranger who lives 1000 miles away but knows your boyfriend's name...I have a blog!" Hmm...

Divine Intervention

There is a God, and he/she/it is speaking to me through fortune cookies.

For the last week I have been (and still am to a certain degree) in the foulest funk of a bad mood. You know, that deliciously juicy angst that you can just bathe in, like you felt back in high school when you saw your dream girl kissing another guy? Anyways, last night I recieved, in the form of a fortune cookie slip, some desperately-needed reassurance that it's ok to freak out from time to time:

"Smile when you are ready."

Quack, damn you!

Ok, so I've been totally addicted to the Discovery Channel show 'Mythbusters'. Particularly, I have been enamoured by the idea that working for M5 Industries, host Jamie Hyneman's SFX business that also is home to the show, seems like the coolest job on the face of the earth. It's based in San Fransico, a utopian dream of a city where I fantasize I might actually fit in. Cast member Kari Byron is this unique bohemian who is smart, creative, tough, tomboyish and hotter than a bubbly sunburn, and the whole cast seems like this tight knit cirle of die hard friends. Lately, I have been feeling jealousy pangs that have registered on nearby seismic detectors.

Alas, add some whiskey to the viewing and suddenly some of the truth starts to poke through. Watching the show with a heavy buzz, but still with my wits about me, I have arrived at two conclusions:

1) Jamie Hyneman is cool on camera but seems like he'd be a total bitch to work for in reality. Notice how nobody gives him any shit?

2) Kari really showed her true colors as a fluffy artsy-fartsy west-coast majorly-stuck-on-herself look-at-my-boobs attention-whore type. (of course, if I were in her shoes, I probably would be too)

Sour grapes? You bet...I'm puckering like a nerd at a kissing booth. My self preservation subsystem has kicked into high gear. But still, when bullshit filtering chemicals are introduced to the Mythbusters experience, I can't help but feel that I've been agonizing in vain. Just a little, anyway.

It Never Ends...

At work I had to order parts for a utility cart manufactured in China. The company that handles their US business? MSG Sourcing.

More fun at work...

If the brand name of the line of tools wasn't funny enough, denoting said brand name and then the length of the product within the same line is pure gold. Case in point for the placard placed on a floor display box of tape measures:

16 foot Big Johnson
Power Tape

WWJD?

Jesus would have voted against those yucky gay people too.

Honestly, people, give me one single reason that isn't based on god/jesus/bible for altering our government constitution to pick out one particular group of people and deny them rights. And don't give me this "It harms the institution of marriage" or "preserving tradition" bullshit either. That's just rhetoric to smooth over how flaming a hateful bigot you are. You probably couldn't even explain what those statements mean, only just rehash them again and again like some programmed robot.

I have some news for you. Little House on the Prairie WAS A TV SHOW. Fiction. Fake. Fabricated by writers addicted to heroin and cocaine, just like all the other prime time installations that front as bastions of purity and wholesomeness. It's an illusion...a ghost. There was never a single point in history that everything was pure and white and squeaky clean. Back in those halcyon covered wagon days there was still rape, murder, burglary, adultery and (gasp!) GAY PEOPLE. Denial ain't just a river in Egypt...OPEN YOUR EYES.

So you contend that same-sex civil unions threaten your marriage and family. I hate to notify you, but if that's the case your marriage was already fucked long before the fags showed up, and your children hate you for letting your family spill into dysfunction, not because queers abound. Stop picking on us evil liberals as these Great Satans that introduce demonism into your perfectly-pleated gingham-aproned apple-pie-and-lemonade-soaked rose-colored world. I smell scapegoating. Practice what you so eagerly get up on your soap box and preach while shaking fingers in peoples faces. If you exerted a single ounce of responsibility, your family would be rock solid, able to withstand the rushing tidal wave of those dirty homosexuals trying to bring you down. Would Jesus make lame excuses? I didn't think so.

Ok, I understand the whole 'marriage' terminology thing. Marriage in this country is undeniably a Christian thing. Go ahead and define the word 'marriage' as a man-woman only deal. That's fine, I respect religion. But to turn around and say that gay couples can't even have any legal (read: state granted, not church granted) rights whatsoever, that's just fucking MEAN and VINDICTIVE. Would Jesus rub salt into their already festering wounds? I didn't think so.

My point: Pushing government legislation banning same-sex civil unions using Bible-based arguments is totalitarian and wrong. Think middle ages. Using God and Jesus to push your agenda of repression, intolerance and discrimination is wrong. Jesus loved and died for EVERYONE (including gays), not just those whom you want him to have died for. I'm sorry to put it that way, but you can't believe the bible in slices, conveniently disregarding the parts that don't suit you. Stop being blasphemous hypocrites.

Society will not dissolve with the introduction of change. Change
is the only constant in this world, and it is inevitable. You can
work to thwart it, but it is much more powerful than you, and the
best you can possibly ever achieve is to put it off for a while. If
American society is deprived of the ability to mutate and adapt to
the ever-morphing global community, if the flow of fresh new
ideas is emphatically resisted or swept under the rug, America will
fall into a fundamentalist rut of social rigidity and slowly crumble
like a dry-rotting tire. By creating policy based solely on fear and
paranoia, we will only ever regress into a country of weak-willed
citizens striving to live a media induced, perfect image of some
nonexistant "good ol' days". Let's not sink into another
McCarthy-esque, witch hunt, isolationistic 1950's. Fear it or
embrace it, change will overcome.

I have a dream...that some day the truth will become self evident that all people are created equal.