"I can no longer sit back and allow [it] to sap and impurify all of our precious bodily fluids"

Today was the first day my energy started to return to my weak limbs and oxygen to my pathetic lungs. I've been carrying a fever for 10 days, spending a majority of those days lying helpless on the couch, wrapped in a blue afghan, with my head engulfed by a large squishy pillow.

Being sick allows you to retreat into childhood and indulge in forgotten luxuries; sipping antioxidant-overloaded juices through striped straws, licking colorful popsicles that still advertise lame riddles on the sticks, and of course Jello. And you can be completely lazy and get away with it, watching hours of T.V. from Burn Notice marathons to Tom Selleck movies.

But I can't take it anymore. I want to lift weights again, skateboard off the steps of the front porch, go for a long drive through the back roads... I want to eat real, solid food, none of this neon colored, liquefied bullshit. Give me a goddamn cheeseburger, NOW!!!

Anyway, I'm finally recovering and just in time since I have an important interview coming up. It's for a writing position - something I'm actually interested in and exactly what I need - It's located in Pittsburgh, but I'm pretty sure it's a work from home kind of deal. Needless to say I'm excited.

"too many dicks on the dance floor"

Chester looks more comfortable than I am right now. I'm lying on the living room floor of my friend's apartment with their mischievous cat curled up next to me. Everyone else went to bed I think, but they actually have incentive to get up early. (it's called a job)

That's right, I am unemployed once again. After only working one and a half days at my new job, they decided "they weren't as busy as they thought they were gonna be" and kicked me out onto the street. Perfect. Now I'm awkwardly hanging around this crowded apartment trying to figure out my next plan of attack.

I don't want to make the four hour drive back in case something else comes up; between the tolls and gasoline, I'm near broke. And the money I did make "working" won't fully cover the cost it took me to get out here. I don't know what I'm gonna do now...

...except finish this beer and "sleep on it". That phrase does nothing for me, I always wake up the same as the night before. Only the time passes more slowly. I may need to tap into my bottle of sleeping pills for tonight; I'll need all the help I can get.

The "freaking-out" will commence in 3... 2...

I'm sitting here with headphones on even though no one is around. In fact I'm not even listening to anything. I should be doing myriad things, like packing for instance, because I GOT A JOB!!!

Thursday afternoon I received a phone call for a job offer as a Typist at "Rels Abstracts"... starting the next morning. Of course I took it, but I had to drive out for my first day and come right back to regroup myself who was very much freaking out at the time.

In a matter of hours I should be back on the turnpike headed to Pittsburgh with no plan on when I'll return to this side of the state. I'll be sitting in a cubicle, typing the same monotonous information into the company's system for eight hours a day, five days a week. Boring? Most likely, but there will be some nice looking paychecks.

I'll be living in a new city, full of convoluted roadways and bridges, but I can't imagine the opportunities I'll have there that will enable me to do something I really want to do. I may even discover what that "something" is I want to do with my life.

For now I have to concentrate on finding a place I can move in to; I'll be crashing at a friend's apartment (I've been living out of a suitcase for eight months, I think I can swing it for awhile). I'm still in freak-out mode, since it all happened so fast. But hey, I'm all about spontaneity, especially if making money is involved.

Vertrauen ist kritisch!

It's finally starting to warm up out there. The eight inch thick ice rink of a driveway has returned to it's normal dirt and stone self. And small children everywhere can be seen skipping across parking lots screaming "Spring!!!" repeatedly. (true story)

I've begun to do some Spring cleaning myself and tore through my giant piles of stuff to reorganize so I'll be ready when the call comes in. It won't be too much longer until I'm employed again. I can smell it.

Yesterday I drove for nine hours for another interview in Pittsburgh with AMC Settlement Services. Building number five, sixth floor, I enter the double glass doors and from behind the receptionist desk wall I can see the entire room with cubicles meshed directly in the center. A little strange? Maybe, but this is a nationwide company that is currently expanding. Seems promising.

And now we wait once again. I'm on the edge of my seat here. In the meantime I'll be watching scenes from various TV shows and movies in German. Like this Bavarian version of Knight Rider. Be sure to make note of the music. :)

"What good am I?"

How do you like the new title block? It reminds me of Deep Thoughts by Jack Handey. Except my introspection may not be quite as facetious.

My mood has been steadily growing worse with every passing moment, even while I sit here typing I can feel my anger and moroseness igniting. But I don't have to wonder why. I know why. And that's exactly what I am afraid of.

I am so damn tired all the time, it is not surprising to find myself annoyed by everything around me. It seems that when I do become exhausted enough to sleep solidly, I still wake up groggy, lacking energy or any amount of motivation to crawl out of bed.

I've been traveling quite a bit lately too, "keepin' the turnpike in business" as my dad says. Last weekend I drove 3 hours west towards Pittsburgh and back to retrieve my now fixed truck. Then I spent 2 days in Philadelphia during another snowstorm for an interview that didn't even happen. Today I had to drive north for lab work and more expensive prescriptions I don't really need.

And on top of unemployment and fatigue I realized that I still have trouble expressing my feelings. That might seem weird to those reading this, but what I mean is those raw feelings deep-seeded in the very core of your heart that allows one to open-up and feel a subliminal connection; "peering into one's soul".

I've been called on this flaw years ago, and the truth of it has been regurgitated through the silence of a recent conversation. I am in the middle of an epiphany with myself, or so I thought, since the last few months. I guess it hasn't been enough of a change to really be noticed. I notice it of course, but no one else can actually see what I'm thinking.

What good am I if I know and don't do,
I If I see and don't say, if I look right through you,
If I turn a deaf ear to the thunderin' sky,
What good am I?

Stranded in Somerset

Through the tunnels and the trees, I drove 5 hours west to the hilly city of Pittsburgh, in negative degree weather, during a snow storm, on a very important playoff weekend. Since it was my first time there, I insisted on playing the "I'm-a-tourist" game before my scheduled interview (and so I could find the location of said interview stress-free).

The perfectly round snowflakes swirled from the sky as though a bean bag chair exploded overhead. We drove through the maze of streets and bridges anyway, trying to sneak onto the incline for free, gazing at the barrel vaulted ceilings inside the Cathedral of Learning where two floors of classrooms are converted to resemble the classrooms of other countries, and of course Primanti Brothers...

The bar was packed and every one was decked out in Steelers decor. It was good I was already dressed in my usual black hue so I didn't stand out too much. The Pens game was being broadcast on all the TVs so I guess you can say I fit in anyway. Their "almost famous" meal stuffed in between 2 pieces of bread was certainly an experience. It's impossible to eat it without getting it all over your face.

My interview at the American Business Center went well, and it gave me some good leads, moving me another baby step closer to that paycheck. I left shortly after, headed back east on the turnpike. After driving for a while, somewhere outside of Somerset I come around a turn and suddenly lost my power steering. I drifted off to the narrow shoulder, turned on my blinkers, carefully squeezed out of my partially opened door and held my nose as I watched a green puddle of anti-freeze gushing out of the front of my truck.

It's snowing again, the temperature is quickly dropping, and I'm wrapped in my Mexican blanket reading as I wait for the tow truck man I called to rescue me. $150 to tow my truck off the turnpike, I still had to pay my share of the fee when I exited, and realized I'll have to pay even more to get my truck (that is "in good shape for a '93" Rob the tow truck man ironically told me) fixed.

After a total of five hours, I finally got the hell out of Somerset, but my poor truck with the busted water pump is stranded at the local mechanic's until the weekend. I am very sad and pissed off.

"Curiosity is the mother of invention."

At 2:00 AM I successfully scared my dad by jumping into the door frame he was about to walk through yelling "A-HA!" Just because I can't sleep doesn't mean I can't have fun with it.

I've completely immersed myself in projects this week. These are things I want to do and should do, but the motivation really emerged from my stubborn avoidance of other thoughts currently consuming my mind. Instead of properly dealing with anything, I mix it in with my creative juices. Here is a list of what I've been up to so far:

1. Making Lists ~ Including this one, I'll make lists about everything: things I hate, random facts about myself, goals, etc. I'm wondering if I should actually do something with them, like compile them together to file because right now they are scattered on post-its and notepads with no real purpose in mind for them.
   
2. In depth Reading ~ This is nothing new, but I managed to organize a schedule: what to read next and when I need to finish it aka reading at least 5 books at the same time and when one is done replace it with new one(s). I can't simply read a book either. With my halloween rocket pencil in hand, I edit, take notes in the margins, leave comments at the end of the pages, look up words I don't know, and research any well-known figure or historical reference. It really becomes quite the educational experience.
   
3. Creative Writing ~ Although the whole "here is what happened and this is how I feel about it" is all good and therapeutic, I thought I needed to challenge myself with a new form of writing. Still drawing from my life experiences, it's a more poetic style that brings a different, beautiful perspective. I can't take credit for the idea because it comes from a book I studied in a literature class. And I am definitely not as good as the originator.
   
4. Sketchbook ~ Brainstorm ideas for art projects (ink, charcoal, collage), search corresponding images, observe colors and shadows and textures, and draw sketches with every detail written in. Then all I have to do is actually create them...
   
5. Coffee ~ Okay so maybe this one doesn't fully constitute a project. Maybe it's just more of an addiction, but I keep myself well supplied.

And I know you all must be wondering by now, so here is my beloved halloween rocket pencil: