The Next Step

I remember one Easter morning my siblings and I got up before our parents. We immediately began looking for the hidden baskets that our parents prepared the night before. We found 4 of them sitting on the kitchen countertop. We knew it was just too easy, but each of us grabbed one and began munching away. My little sister wasn't awake yet, but we didn't care that she wouldn't have a basket; we were just happy to have the candy. When my parents woke up, they asked why we grabbed the baskets without waiting for them to hide them. We told them we found them on the counter and just thought that that was where they hid them (yeah, right). My Mom was especially disappointed in me. Opening the microwave she revealed a basket I made in school the week prior filled with twice the amount of candy as the others. She gave it to my sister. Drat...

Flash forward to today. I realize I've done it again, but this time with a wife instead of a stupid basket of Easter candy. I met my wife when I was in the Navy, reeling from being desperately alone. Then I met my future wife. She was without a home when I met her and her kids had to live with her sister.  She was the first girl that took an interest in me. I'd never kissed a girl before, much less done anything else. Not only had I started dating this girl with 4 children not much younger than I was, I sallied forth after learning she was still married. The guilt of copulating with her was too much for my conscience and I brought her to the courthouse to finalize her divorce and married her the next day. It was selfish of course, but I appeased my feelings of guilt by taking her and the kids in and even buying a house for all of us to live in. 

I was never happy, but I always tried... and failed. Vacations always left me the odd man out and when advice was asked, it was towards her in Tagalog instead of us as a married couple. Over the 10 years of being with her, some deep seating feelings of regret and desperation once again flooded over me as I realized I should never have married her. But I put those thoughts away and accepted the adage that I had made my bed and was obliged to sleep in it. 

Things progressively waxed more tense as our dilapidated house neared the fully renovated stage. Fights over money and hidden credit tested my commitment to "laying in the bed" and when my brother Lars visited me, a chink was found in my armor of solace. After she left me and returned during my brother's stay, I was so backwards and depressed that all I could do was go to work everyday and come home to sit in my shed to drink beer and smoke cigarettes. 

Nearly a year passed and my shed routine had become firmly established. I thought to myself one night sitting in my shed while on my fifth cigarette of the night that I needed to instill confidence in myself and persuade my then family to believe in my leadership. I immediately took control of the helm again and began to finish getting my affairs in order to fix that house completely and help her family to fix theirs as well. 

I remember having a fight with my wife about the room that her son stayed in as he didn't pay rent and only wiled away his time playing computer games in his room like a hermit. He was in the smallest bedroom, but began sleeping in the downstairs master bedroom. I told both of them that due to the heat, I didn't mind him sleeping there for the time being, but that once the house was finished I was going to rent the room out so we could begin paying off the massive amount of credit card debt that I had found out about. 

The next Wednesday her parents called me to let me know that their sewage pump had pooped out and a tree had fallen on their house due to the hurricane force wind. After I got off work at 5:00, I went over to their house, installed the sewage pump, and began chopping limbs off their roof with a chainsaw in the wind and rain. It was nearly 10:00 when I returned home. Both my wife and her son were in the downstairs bedroom having just finished moving all his stuff into it. 

After another fight with her we didn't talk for 3 days. I was about to go and stew in the shed again, when I thought better of it and reviewed the facts. We should have never got together or married. We should have never bought that house. And I should have finished my tenure in the Navy and returned home to Oregon. But, instead of waiting for the Lord's blessing on my life, I grabbed the candy on the countertop. 

I'm thankful for God's grace, as He forgives and restores. A peace is on me now; one that took over 11 years to restore to my soul. I'm still working on forgiving myself for hurting her and her family, but I know that the Lord has. The next step is laid out. Now that the shackles are off, I'm able to walk it.

Lead on Lord. Lead on.

Why We're Gone

It's pushing six months. I'm alone. I mean, really alone. I feel, think, walk, move, talk, alone. And I have always been this way. She was never there. I mean, dammit, I wanted to help; but you can't help someone who doesn't want to be. You can't help yourself. All you can do is trust. And that trust will be broken, just like us. Broken into pieces to be fed into the machine. Nothing united as the glue is all dried up. I met her when I was really alone. Crying myself to sleep. Standing at the edge of the world with Tom Cruise. She was walking in a line of ladies and didn't seem all that special. But after that black chick said we should date, I took it to heart and within six months later we were married. She needed me for my money and to fix her stuff. I needed her warm body to lie in bed with so I wouldn't feel so isolated. Now I'm ready to get out of bed. And she wants to stay there. You can only sleep so long before you get a headache and grow restless. So here I am, alone; pretending to get along. Painting the smile on my face everyday I walk out that door. The worst part is that the only reason for doing so is so that people don't think I'm an asshole. It's not because I want to hide the fact that a marriage of 11 years was a useless sham. It's because I know they don't give a fuck. And the only reason I know that is because I don't either. But something in me wants to. I guess I just don't know how. Nobody ever taught me how to care. All I have are stupid emotions evoked from the FM radio I listen to while driving to nowhere. Time for bed asshole. Gotta get to sleep so you can wake up tomorrow and fix other asshole's expensive, worthless, heaps of junk that they don't know how to take care of. Their codpieces. Then we can all kumbaya in a circle jerk talking about how nobody cares about anyone but themselves. And we can show each other stupid fucking pictures on our bloody smartphones about other assholes crave attention and do stupid fucking things for 5 seconds of royalty. And I can walk around bragging about how I've "rejected the system" and don't own a smartphone. I'm stronger than that. The only real reason for getting rid of it was because I watched too much porn and I want to believe I'm better than that. I tried admitting it to her years ago, but she told me to fuck off and just get over it. Thanks babe. I know you never gave a shit. I guess I never did either. Maybe if I did I'd know how to wake you the fuck up. I'll just keep floating through unconsciousness looking for the crack in the ice. Can somebody give me a damned hand for fuck's sake?! Yeah, I've been praying. I've started going to church again. It seems a little better. Nice pastor. Looks like Eddie Rabbitt. He wants me to come to donut breakfast on Tuesdays. Sorry man. I don't trust you. I don't even trust me. All I know right now that there is a Truth out there. I'm going to find it. I don't much mind dying right now, just so long as I can find that Truth. I have nothing to lose. It's already gone like me. Living in the corner of a rooftop and bumping my head everytime I try and stand up. I'm just a fortune cookie. Get beyond my mellow yellow shell and all I have inside is a canned message and some lottery numbers. Throw me away. Don't worry, you'll get another one next time you order fried rice and chicken. Until then, go fuck yourself. At least you'll be doing it instead of some other asshole looking for a hole to fill. 

Taking Care of Each Other

Recently, a white board was posted on the back wall of the shop. It tracks daily hours turned for each mechanic. While this may seem like an effective way of tracking hours, it actually serves to pit us against each other. I believe that management knows this, and seeks to egg us on, as if that's going to make us more productive. Unfortunately, it's a well known fact that a disgruntled employee is essentially good for nothing.

While speaking with one of my co-workers, it was told to me that the management seeks individuals who are in debt. The reason being is so that they work harder to pay off the debt. It truth, it creates a hostile work environment; and if the work doesn't materialize, gossip starts, and friendships are ruined.

These few recent experiences have got me thinking about the importance of the golden rule. It seems that more and more people are looking to take care of themselves, and whoever gets in the way of progress is steamrolled right over. But while this may seem immediately effective, longterm success is hampered (or dissolved) and people end up hating each other. I understand that we all have to make a living, but what is life without relationships. Please understand that I don't mean to complain. I just wish that people with more clout than myself would use it to better other's situations instead of bolstering their own.

Missing a Nap

Yesterday, my wife's friend needed help with her Honda Accord. I usually go straight home after work, take a shower, and then take my evening nap. Yesterday I missed it. Truth be told, I think it was more of the placebo effect than anything, but I felt incredibly tired at around 9:00 P.M. I stuck to the schedule and went to bed at 11:00, but in the morning, I was really groggy, and went back to bed for an hour. I don't feel terrible now, but it seems to be that if you cheat while on a polyphasic sleep schedule, you have to pay it back. Truthfully though, I feel like polyphasic sleep is a part of me. I'm very happy to be able to have this much time to accomplish goals, and I hope I don't waste it.

Fighting Myself

I'm a mechanic. One of the interesting things about being a mechanic is that I get paid on the flat rate system. In essence, it means that I get paid per job. If I finish a lot of jobs, I get paid well. If I don't, well, you get the idea. This has worked fairly well for me during my short tenure in this trade, however, with another recession looming over our heads, fixing cars becomes a minor necessity to a lot of people. Thus, work has been slow. Everyone at the shop is on edge and tempers have flared. Add all that to losing our intranet this morning at work and even I was in rip-off-your-face mode. 

I always try to remain calm and be productive, but at times I'm unable to restrain my discontent. I know there is nothing I can do about my situation, but for some reason I feel compelled to rage about and let everyone know how angry I am. 

This is a human weakness and one I desperately need to work on. We all need to remember that while we may not always be able to control our circumstances, we can control our attitude. Lord help me.

1%

So, in a recent post, I alluded to committing 1% a day to bettering myself. I'd like to lightly expound upon this. I read about this idea in an article about learning how to code. It struck me deeply, as I'm always ready and willing to learn and try new things, but for some reason, my zeal tapers off after the initial endeavour. For some reason, I couldn't continue to learn new skills or new habits, for as I was very excited in the beginning, I soon lost interest and faltered. Not only that, but I found myself depressed as I was unable to continue in my quest for betterment.

Again, I'd like to reference polyphasic sleeping as the mustard seed, as I wouldn't have been reading at all had it not been for the exorbitant amount of time I've been given as a result of adopting this lifestyle.

After reading about the idea that to achieve lasting success, only small steps are required, a light turned on inside of me. I attempted to take very small, dissatisfying bites of success in multiple crafts. And although it left me feeling weak, depressed, and unsuccessful in the beginning; after about a week of enduring through it, I found myself not only adapting to the smaller meals, but enjoying them and feeling (to a lesser degree) the same soul kindling zeal I had in the beginnings of the failed attempts. I also feel compelled to complete these tasks, as they hardly take time at all individually. A baby could keep concentrated on them for crying out loud! My ability to retain knowledge and skills is at an all time high, and although I don't feel like a superhero, my wings are starting to develop.

I would encourage anyone who is a zealous failure, such as myself, to attempt what I've mentioned. Keep in mind that you are not a superhero. You're hardihood does have a limit. Just commit to 1% a day. You'll find you're accomplishing more than you believed you ever could.

My Complaint

Sears pissed me off. Here's my complaint:

I'm am completely unsatisfied with the customer service your company provided. I called up 3 days ago and ordered (or at least thought I ordered) some parts. I spoke with a representative from parts direct over my weed eater. I informed him that the bottom of it had come apart and it was just an empty hole. I also informed him that I knew I at least needed the spool and the retainer for the spool. I asked him if he knew what I was talking about as far as the retainer was concerned and he replied in the affirmative. He then told me that I also would be needed to purchase the spring (I was unaware of this and thanked him). After he concluded the parts lookup, I again asked him if that was all I would be needing. He informed me that I had ordered everything that comes apart from the bottom of the weed eater. Today, June 25, I received a spring in the mail by itself. Naturally I was concerned that I had indeed ordered everything I needed. I therefore proceeded to call the Parts Direct toll free line once again to verify. Initially I spoke with a lady who seemed to be helpful. She informed me that I had indeed ordered the spool, but as for the retainer, she didn't see it on the order and was unsure whether or not the spool came with it. She told me she would transfer me to parts. After a lengthy conversation with her, I would have thought it common courtesy to inform the next representative of the details. She did not and the next lady I spoke with had no knowledge of my concern. I attempted to explain it to her, also providing the model number of my weed eater. As I was speaking, the call dropped. I hadn't even thought of it, but after the call had been lost, it occurred to me that most service representatives initially ask for the client's phone number in case the line drops. Again I called the same toll free number and dialed 2. Someone picked up but the line was dropped again. Finally on the third attempt, I was able to have a conversation with a representative named Linda. Curiously, she was able to find a parts diagram without transferring my call to another representative. She informed me that I needed a bump stop, and that I would have to pay more money for the part, plus extra for shipping. I inquired if the shipping would have been the same had the order been placed correctly in the first place. She informed me that shipping would be more in my situation, as shipping for any part doesn't exceed 9 dollars and some odd cents. I asked if it would be possible for Sears to take care of the shipping, as I had explicitly requested the parts in total the first time I called and was assured that they were all I needed. She told me that my description had been vague, and that in no way would Sears take care of the shipping. I, of course, shelled out the extra money for shipping, but I will not be shopping at Sears in any wise any time soon. It's a shame, as I enjoy the quality of the products produced.