It's been twenty minutes since Remy went in for his first job interview. This is a good sign, I think. We arrived early and the other employees didn't know where he was supposed to go. But that's why we arrived early. 

He had filled out his resume and application online, so he didn't bring physical copies with him. I told him that interviewers aren't always prepared and to bring physical copies just in case. Bonus if you put them in a professional-looking folder of some kind. If we had time we could have found a briefcase, I'm sure. We could have done the bit where he opens it up and takes out a sandwich. I love that bit. Although I guess that's not the point of interviews. 

I also advised him to dress up a little more. I was once selected over another job candidate because I wore a tie. 

Regardless of the outcome, it is time to teach him the walk-with-a-purpose stride. It's something I learned in the Army and it has served me well. In Basic Training, if you were walking casually, that was a sign you weren't busy and any drill sergeant who saw you walking like that would then find something for you to clean. 

It's a brisk walk, not quite a march, that gives the impression that someone important has instructed you to be at an exact place at an exact time. The key is to not appear as if you're running late. Irresponsible people run late. Not you. You're not in a rush, because you are responsible and will be there in plenty of time, provided nobody attempts to distract you with unnecessary cleaning tasks. 

It works. 

Note To Self: change other tires next year

Big box home improvement stores have the most dangerous parking lots. I accepted this risk last night when I ventured out to purchase a reciprocating saw. 

It appears the April Fool was my tire, and the prankster was a 3/4 inch aluminum rod through my right rear tire. 

Now I sit, waiting, while my tires are replaced. I went to the local coffee establishment and purchased a large drip coffee, no sugar, no cream, all extreme. I try to take a sip but it's too hot. Can I overcome my crippling shyness to ask for a few ice cubes? 

No. I cannot. 

The coffee shop has free wi-fi...or does it? If I were running a scam, I would set up a "free" wi-fi in a coffee shop that people could connect to and then steal their pennies. Not for selfish reasons, of course; I want to bring back the penniless writer. The world needs great art that it won't appreciate until long after the artist can benefit financially. This things I believe. (The previous line is a Simpsons reference.)

I'm writing this on my phone. This is important. I used to write on my little laptop my friend Brian built for me. I loved that thing. It was slow, you see. I could write, but trying to procrastinate by fun distracting things instead of writing required more patience than I had. So I'd return to writing. 

It's also important that I'm on my phone because I use a "glide" function to type. I'm gliding my clumsy, ponderous thumb over the display to summon words, and sometimes the word it thinks I'm choosing is burke. If there are any odd phrases or random words that's probably wry. 

Ouch! Still too hot. 

I almost purchased an iced chai. Then I remembered I'm avoiding sugar. Why? Because spite. I resent you, sugar. I loved you, but you just wanted me to love you more and more and more and never feel satisfied. Then my pancreas would explode and you'd move on. Typical. 

My headphones are in but I'm not listening to anything. Blenders thrum and baristas thump them to release their icy treasures. A man is speaking to another man, and it sounds like he's giving advice but is clearly selling something. Or perhaps it's already been sold and he is the product. 

Aren't we all. 

I usually sleep in on weekends. I want to not sleep in, but I always do. Part of me knew this when I scheduled my tire appointment for 8 am, right as the place opened. I'd have to get up as if I were going to work. See the world. Be a part of it for a while. 

I've already talked to three people and it's not even 9. 

I'm sorry sugar. I know you can't help it. I love you for what you are, and I hope you know that I am not trying to not love you; I'm trying to not want to possess you. Nobody can own what we experience when we are together. Those moments hang in the air like music, lived and loved and then let go. And we are left wanting our sin again. Just like you can't "own" property, man. 

There's an auto-save function on Blogger now. Has been for years. And yet, I still feel a dread that what I've written might vanish when I press the "publish" button, due to a bad internet connection or because I was typing on a laptop cobbled together out of spare parts and friendship. Or maybe it was just Windows XP trying to teach me that we don't know ourselves until we are forced to change. That great writing comes from re-writing. And that trying to love and failing is a virtue, even though it is almost definitely your own fault because you did it bad and you are right to feel bad. 

That's not true. That is how it feels though, so it's nearly true. It's a fine line to walk. 

After all, sometimes people just choose black coffee instead of iced chai. It doesn't mean they would have been unhappy with you. 

Ooh, my tires are done. 

When I forget a pen

When I forget my pen I turn to the blog. Someday, I'll scan in all my journals but I find it so much more pleasant to imagine doing it instead. 

I'm on my way to Portland to attend a tiki party. It's going to be rainy so I get to wear my big grey coat with a hood. Rarely get to wear it in Phoenix. 

I'm in the airport, where I traditionally write in my paper journal because it reminds me of what the heck I was up to the last time I was in an airport. Yes, my email and phone location history tells me all that but it's feels like work to look it up. Also it's harder to lie to myself. 

"isn't that right, Ghost of Alan Rickman?"

"Yesh, that'sh absholutely right Mishter Gurg."

"Alan I'm shocked! You call no man mister!"

"I'm clearly mocking you, however I'm finding the depthsh of your oblivioushness nearly imposshible to plumb."

"I love you, Ghost of Alan Rickman! You know I chose you because I think people will remember you a thousand years from now. That way when future archaeologists dig up this blog from our ancient ruins, they'll know you were great even as a ghost!"

"Shplendid."

Ah yes, the journal. The voice of the past and present, to myself in the future. 

I blame smart phones for all my problems. They're incredible machines. And yet, I lived so much more when it was much easier to get bored. 

I do wonder how my brain has changed. When i got my ADHD diagnosis years ago, I thought, "That makes sense" and took my medication and went about my business. 

It was only recently, when trying to help my friend understand their own ADHD diagnosis, that I started listening to lectures on YouTube about the emotional response many people, especially adults, have when they get their diagnosis. 

It's like you've been racing in a rowboat your whole life and never winning, then you find out that everyone else had a motor in theirs. 

I didn't exactly feel that way. At least I don't think I did.

But I say... That I have to go buy some Christmas presents and it's not something I want to do but my headlight is out so it's better to go during the day. Also I need to order a new headlight. And learn how to replace it. Are halogen lights good? I kind of hate them but if they help me see that would be good even though I would know it annoys other people like me. 

Decision time. 

Decorative piano music drifts through the cool air of the Thai food restaurant. I'm picking up some food on my way home from work. I wonder if the music is deliberately bland to defy stereotype. It may be working; as I don't know what Thai music normally sounds like. Music is complicated anyway. I remember my parents listening to Spanish-language music on the radio and whenever a song came on that I found myself kind of enjoying, they would change the station. 

This restaurant has been here a while, in the strip mall anchored by a Fry's Food and Drug. 

I suppose this "plaza" as it's labeled has been a big part of my life. There was a Mom and Pop video rental store, literally called Mom and Pop's. A Blockbuster Video moved in, and then Pop died. The Blockbuster Video is now an urgent care. And the great croissant of life rolls on. 

My food is almost ready. 

My heel is still injured. Still not a good idea to attack me, because I haven't lost any mobility. It just hurts to do certain movements. Like my patented softshoe, as well as my legendary samba. But I can still do them as well as before. 

The plan today: Eat this Thai food, lift weights, play a little bit of PlayStation, and then go to bed at a decent hour. 

The 40 Year Old Vegan?

I made the mistake of watching a bunch of YouTube videos of dogs and cows that are best friends. Now I feel kinda bad about eating cows. David Attenborough also says I can help biodiversity by eating less meat. Dang it. But it's so delicious.

My foot is injured and I can't treadmill walk right now. That's also had some influence on my thinking. I am rapidly gaining back the weight I've managed to lose over the past 4 years and while I refuse to limit my portions, perhaps gorging myself on plant products will help.

I should probably see a doctor about this foot and see if there's anything they can inject me with to speed up the process. Yeah, better living through chemistry. 

I have a week of vacation coming up. Pretty exciting. Maybe I'll do some spring cleaning and get rid of a bunch of stuff that I haven't used in years.

My foot hurts. A lot. Finally, an excuse to use a cane!