Try it again

So this life organization thing is kinda crazy. I've (for like the fifth time in my life) decided to get organized. I bought a planner. Started filling out upcoming dates of importance. For today I wrote in Take van to emissions inspection. So I got up bright and early and headed to the testing facility with my wife. I figured I'd get it out of the way early and be able to make the rest of my day off a productive one.

My last week at the Bottom.

I can't believe that I have a bit over a week left at my current job location. It'll be almost exactly a year since I transferred there. I still remember the first time I stepped foot in the store. It seemed strange, not because it was foreign to me, but because of the escalator leading to the bottom floor. Every other store I have worked it was one floor. Another rarity was walking through a department with absolutely no product in it. It was so clean and brand new.

Friday

I guess I don't get as excited as regular folk do about Fridays (or as upset about Monday's for that matter) I work almost every weekend so that means I have nothing to look forward to, but more work.

A book preview and my fascination with the mob

So, today I squeezed into some slacks, a polo shirt and my leather ankle boots. What came to mind? Would I be able to fit a small handgun into my boot? As I had seen in many a gangster movie. Whenever I dress up and throw some gel in my hair I think about organized crime. Today this thought came ironically seeing as I was fulfilling my civic duty and serving as a juror.

Book Review: Papillon by Henri Charriere

It seems that every book I've read and written about has been related to jail or imprisonment. This story reminds me a lot about A place to Stand by Jimmy Santiago Baca. They both spent a major part of their sentences in solitary confinement, they were both convicted for crimes hey didn't commit, while in solitary they both "traveled beyond the walls" through their imaginations and memories.

Stupid and Insignificant

Day in day out, little by little I disintegrate. I never show a sign of weakness and live for others. Stupid and insignificant is how I feel. Nothing matters but what I can do for you. Nothing can be done for me, it's too late. Death is stalking my every move. I say, "come and get me" Even with life to spare, I may go at any moment. When I need, I call, but no one answers. Stupid and insignificant are my pleas. Attention is not my motive. I always aim to please.

When the day comes to remember me, everyone will forget. Stupid and insignificant was the life that I gave. I was a slave to my self indulgence. Never got what I wanted and needed what I never had. Just too far from my grasp was a happiness I didn't derserve. To others happiness seems stupid and insignificant because they never had to work to achieve it. I will work to reach it for the rest of my little life and still be a day late and a dollar short. Stupid and insignificant never again.

Why I ended my complicated relationship with Facebook

So, I'm up for a promotion at work. Some people want me to get it, others don't. I know I'm not perfect, so I can understand why some people would have reservations about me getting the job. One of the hiring managers pulls me to the side and tells me that some of the people I would oversee feel I would not be good for the position, because of what I post on Facebook. What? I've never written anything directly concerning my place of work or fellow employees on Facebook. I've made general comments like, "I had a bad day", but never attacked or complained. Although I have seen other people do such things.