Being thankful for what you got to appreciate what you get.

The hospital has quite a relaxed yet professional air about it. it makes me wish i was applying for something higher like nurse or physical therapist. with so much debt already, the coast guard keeps entering my mind. anyway, a lot emphasis on respect and accountability. no kidney stone left unturned here. so, i survived orientation on minimal sleep plus i'm certified to facilitate mouth to mouth for all ages. i had to ride the bike in rain so i was in and out of the bathroom like a superhero though i'm merely an apprentice to the real ones. on a side note, few people like to be reminded how unoriginal or mundane they are in public. i hope to remedy this in myself by growing more comfortable in the environment and that'll only happen by knowing the rules front and back because that's the first step to levity. the code of conduct fresh in mind, there comes the obligation to bend said rules within reason. a thin line at times, but necessary to have manage the stresses of work. still, it feels good to be alongside these folks. despite being a small weekend gig, it is one giant step for tedkind

Some may say if you're getting too much sleep, you're not working hard enough. i do feel weird getting more than 8 hours, but the energy is something to cherish while we're young and hungry. though there's no universal cut-off point for that youthful vigor that climbs mountains by day and magically appears in time to lull the kids to sleep.

Evolution is a strong driving force of my thoughts regarding the past, present, and future. There is an awareness of what I missed out on by remaining comforted by my own solitude, but a philosophical twist can make it feel like things were gained in return. That there's always a give and take. The heart of the matter is I've become such good friends with none other than myself that to gel with the outside world where personalities and opinions are plenty. What pushes me to breach the cozy comfort zone I've established and maintained for years, almost decades, is the practical urge to find more gratifying work than a cashier.

Granted, there are things to be learned (and have been learned) from such low wage, menial work, but coming up on 3 years of repetitive, unrewarding chores that any shmoe off the street is overshadowed by what's out there waiting to be confronted. This book by Henry Jacoby and William Irwin catering to the hit show House with a philosophical journey into the characters and the subconscious forces of their actions and attributes has kept me busy with thought and reflection.

Aristotle's 'life of reason' and Nietzsche's "ubermensch" or "overman/superman" drive home the idea of putting past failures, guilt, self-pity, emotional let-downs, and traditional expectations aside to carve some sort of self-realizing perception of self using the skills one already has even if they don't know it. It's easy to say you wish for something, but if you're doing it excessively to where it's withholding better quality surroundings, a reality check needs to remind you how defeatist it is.

When is the time to crack and self-destruct? when does it come to a point where it's more than a lingering thought, but a bloodythirsty demand that one breaks rank to satisfy the hunger, reckless abandon that may bring regret, but also rebirth... does it need to painted so violently? sometimes, yes. because i'm looking for myself... for raison d'etre.

This will be the last time i bitch for a good while. as my spirit recharges and picks up momentum again, i'm off to the races and taking names. if i'm not writing, i'm doing.

i assess the damage of the last 48 hours and sense the storm has passed. the impulsive spending in the name of overbearing stress should subside and now we begin rebuilding the fort. i'm thankful i don't smoke. i don't mind the debauchery of a party atmosphere, i just detest playing babysitter. it's a game with no winners, let alone rules; i'm given the keys to the asylum and left to tend the inmates as i see fit. preferably, i leaving them to their own devices as i drown myself in a book or the paper, but the pressure is there to check on them, knowing they're probably capitalizing on my apathy. for every person i catch in the act, there's sure to be a dozen i don't see so i keep it in perspective and try to accept the reality. there's no honor among jerks as i become one myself, holding up lines at other stores because the card is unknowingly maxed out, something i'm usually on top of, but being spaced out from the craziness leads me astray. and that busy nights at work witnessing the long lines and therefore avoiding close contact knowing someone will eventually ask me for cigarettes or a price check, sometimes blatantly walking the other way as they call out to me.

i'm sorry to be this way. i'm well-aware of how i must appear to most people i come across; i'm just stretched too thin to care about repairing the bonds. my eyes watch, attractive or otherwise cool, people turn away in dismissal as i offer them little in way of small talk, but my body just remains seated, just too exhausted to show any visible emotion. granted, there are small pockets of time where a spike in mood garners up a 'congratulations' or a question or some witty response to one i didn't know i had that make the ladies chuckle. a good friend is all i ever wanted to be, but life has been taking up all the space in the damn bed.

the environment, the choices made, or lack thereof, reflect the current situation. so i'm still logical about it, but i just reach a threshold and close my doors for business; that's the emotional side taking over. i start forgetting little things because logic and reason are set aside. this seems like a reoccurring thing, as was in college now in min wage hell. it has proven difficult to find something that doesn't alienate me from everyone. i didn't plan well for post-college, naivete told me a science degree would just bring me good fortunes out of thin air, more or less. this is why you need friends, your ambassadors to reality for without them you are sailing what appears like a promising maiden voyage to become an ill-fated descent into the serpent's den.

walking to work among the lively streets watching the night lit up with everyone reflecting and cajoling on a memorable graduation and eventful 4 or 5 (or 8, for the van wilders among us) years with late night tearful farewells, candid group photos only to find their eyes were closed, and retro 90s dance music blaring out the window as they begin their professional and/or adult lives. but it took extensive planning from them and family alike to achieve this milestone. it really highlights how behind i am. keeping extremely private and closed off does not pay. it has its pros and cons: i do like my alone time to contemplate, but truth be told, a dreamer only dreams. we all need something that feels real to validate ourselves. being realistic will get me where i need to be. where i should be. a place that befits the work i put in. i think i need a bigger bed. here's to staying positive. thanks for reading

The devil's in the details, a squeaky wheel can hamper the trip. belligerent drunks are zombies immune to my psychological bullets of reason, no words can mute their surly spitfire. i sit poised at my stool as their tempers flare while struggling to insert bills for payment. a flamboyantly gay man grows testy and his characteristic accent is amplified to something almost comical, cursing and flailing his hands, followed by another man's attempt to repair the atmosphere with some tasteless, bigoted remarks passed to me under his breath. they both get a blank expression in return, little consideration to either as i let out a sigh and continue reading; this is the usual dichotomy of human behavior that crosses my view. the worlds of thought we're submerged in that guide our remarks, our actions, bear everyone equal blame to the faults of our nature. no one is innocent. level as i may look, the straight-face has signs of wear. from afar, one cannot tell that sometimes the tolerance grows dangerously thin. if an angry tirade were to move from the checkout onto me, my contempt begs to spill over. their hand patting my chest moves the decision for act or tact to a split-second tug in either direction. if it sways one way, in an instant i twist his wrist 180 degrees, forcing him to a knee in wrenching pain as i stare him down with a controlled gaze, channeling something i do not wish to describe further. if he lands a fist across my face, i envision him spitting blood by the end of it as i'm carted off to the station. a vivid thought that winds me up, but i cannot do this. there's no justification for an itchy trigger finger for an occurrence so common on these nights. i remain fixed in place and watch the stragglers walk off, forgotten was the noise of before and i return to a quiet spell that is a friday night after finals.

Searching for something to wash out the soap, re-focusing my eyes on the new girl, woman rather. a hard-working single mother of 2 no taller than I, a thin figure, hair-bunched up in a tight stub, expressive eyes, and a complexion that lends a youthful appearance to her unassuming middle age. the air is cooled by the sound of her soft voice as we exchange a 'hello'; a classy lady who i cannot risk alienating so I keep it at that. but a quick mental retreat ensues where i imagine her finding me alone in the break room, without barely a word, she slowly climbs onto my lap facing me. as i lean back and accommodate the added weight of her slender body, her hands run down my chest, our eyes dance in the empty space between us, filling the vacant air with an unforgivable lust that attests to our lost innocence. that same low-pitched 'hello' are the only lines in our script, the rest is left to free will. this among other thoughts helps me through.

After finishing a letter to Mom, Aristotle and his 'Nicomachean Ethics' became tonight's guide through the minefield. it left me in deep thought over my childish yearning for greener pastures, fed by my desperation to honor the years of schooling, to escape this cove of committed couch potatoes. a two-thousand year-old social commentary has people pegged as they are today in many regards; they were always like this, but i'm still off-center, the job leaves me overly bothered and unable to join the fray to socialize effectively. i don't easily exude the same upbeat vibes i present here, instead there is a maestro leading a broken, discordant symphony. a child clanging on pots and pans to get everyone to listen, repelling them further from the kitchen, until the little devil tires out and naps in a dark corner. the workplace dictates my mood because i value progression. a great disdain boils upward to see folks in a perpetual retreat from their potential. it's almost a poisonous hatred that takes great restraint to conceal. this is my mood going into work. the sun awakens and a new day at the hospital brings back that spry, smiling fellow. it reminds me to keep reaching, keep thinking.

After reading Book 1 of Aristotle's section on biology, his wordy vernacular was more or less understood, but I anticipate more readings to address a few loose ends. While the pages of prose are fresh in mind, I'll assume a manifestation of the man with my own interpretation, my usual banter translated into aristotle-speak:

an excerpt from jukus buffoonius:

...as well-placed as emotions can be, seeking harmony and likability, they do not always greatly prioritize truth or at least, a better understanding of, say, ulterior motives or hints of superficiality, in their pursuit of good-will amongst cohorts. well-placed wit favors inductive reasoning and curiosity to what lies within the clouds of emotions. emotions are unpredictable, but in fairness, provide the intuition and perspective to complement a logical resolve. to linger too long at one extreme is detrimental to development; to stumble upon a balance makes for smooth sailing for all passengers...

A drunken ode to wet spring night my former self would have spent sleeping, but tonight I leaned closer to seizing the moment even if it was a night like any other in a college town with homeward bound doctors and engineers-to-be. Dogs and cats pouring from the heavens, i waited outside under the hood of the entrance with some stragglers. a girl was spouting some pessimistic stuff across from me so i countered with my random optimist banter to which she was repulsed and ignored my presence thereafter. received a total of 2 hours sleep today just to make time for some nightly strolling, urine testing, book browsing, cover band conversing, happy hour hubris, all before the town becomes a shadow of its usual self where i'm no longer standing stoic amongst a crowd of revelers, but to then Be the crowd... me, myself and I.

Something's brewing in the pot. each day is shedding more light on habits that desperately need tweaking. no princess in the castle to unveil, no beginning or end to all I see and feel around me; if there is, it stretches far beyond my lifespan to appear like a repeating cycle of skipped breaths and heavy hearts. a mosaic of emotions tied to the ups and downs we encounter, our subconscious tattooed with badges of battles won and lost, with the views we develop from them that guide our future decisions. to respect or to steal. to adore or to abuse. a love so bright or a bitterness so bleak. the canvas overlaps with more and more imagery and colors over time. to say we soak up things like a sponge is an understatement; there seems to be no limit to how much stuff can be absorbed, just that there's only one lifetime to do it. time. that thing that adds urgency to everything, sets the pace for every process to start and finish in a manner that benefits whoever is vested in the result. this all relates to the busy week i'm currently having i swear, but keeping it broad hides its age as weeks, months, and years go by. a sort of timelessness to these words that makes it hold true to anyone at anytime. keeping it clear of personal touch where it looks as if anyone could have written these lines in relation to their own travels. though therein lies a point about me friends and family can vouch for: the hesitation to be more personal.

When the basic pillars of survivalism, the steps taken to ensure basic needs are met daily (job, food, bills), no longer warrant such painstaking time and attention to detail to achieve, all at the expense of a social life and other enjoyable things, i realize i've just been a still block of ice against a snowy backdrop, without identity or color... transparent and indistinguishable from other similar-looking icy bricks. i reach a point where there's room to be more sophisticated in my approach towards the world. like clamping down in times of war, the smoke is beginning to clear and there's room to breathe easy and speak one's mind. 'who am i?' 'what have i done to stand apart from others?' is that all this is about in life? these questions that now float up are just the tip of the existential iceberg. am I just another young Joe Shmoe hard-wired with the goal of making a name for himself like so many others? asking such a question would bring a puzzled look to almost anyone listening in on my self-talk, but perhaps what's so obviously a vital mission in life to others is so unremarkable and bland to me... as if this tune is all too familiar, as if i've done this all before. while it's quite an interesting leap to think that faint echoes of past lives are making ripples in the rivers of my subconscious, it's more likely just a mood i'm in or I'm in need of a drastic change in scenery, but i'll entertain this thought while it's fresh; before i know it, it's replaced by another. the most one can do right now is make the best of right now, and let the momentum build from there. just roll and let roll. getting situated into a new job is tedious and ripe with records faxed and waivers signed let alone sleep-inducing rounds of phone tag. start carpe-ing some diem and don't wait for such flawed human constructs to dictate the pace.

Don't get mad at something on the screen. there's no one on the other side to feel the force of your hand but innocent, inert metal and plastic. the static surroundings don't care if you bought the wrong album because you mistook a band named 'deftone' for 'deftones.' Or the roadie roughing up passerby with his totally rad must-have band shirts after the show, racing up to you as you trek the tunnel to the parking lot. Still dazed and confused with musical jet-lag and flimsy senses, an exchange is signaled by the wave of your bills. he snaps it from your sweaty paws and quickly darts off to rinse and repeat. a meaningless intercourse leaving only one person fulfilled as the shirt barely passes your navel. the marketing firm gets a pat on the back for your slipping money in their pocket; an air-tight, pressurized pocket that firmly holds George to be, as Buddha would put it, one with the thick layers of steel encasing entire piles of government-endorsed paper. Among similar slices of legal tender from people like you amassed through a perfectly legal sleight of hand. scratching and clawing the whole way until it was finally sucked into the vortex where it joins the inert backdrop that reflects an underlying machination perfected by man, to fool man into trusting their fellow man for a passing moment. the split-second games we play everyday to push ourselves closer to the stars, at least in thought. thoughts are absolute, a sort of gravity, bearing weight on us from day to day as we dance across rooftops. arms in a knot, we hold each other close as to prevent a displacement of weight leaning too far over the edge. sharing the weight of the world evenly on our shoulders, the burden is lessened. we're more empowered, now on level ground, working with a full deck, the anger and subsequent savagery in response to such subversive trickery is kept in the closet, duck-taped, but still wide-eyed with fury. we put on our best game face and kindly ask for a refund. this is the daily transaction of human interaction.