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 |  If you havent ever read my blogs, give them a go! You will be amused at my journey! |
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Me and Holo-Zoo are building a submarine here next to the pond. We're determined that we're gonna find out what's at the bottom of this damn thing... ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** ... If you're new to my journal, you've got a lot of catching up to do. So, don't be a slacker, get the full story. Here are my first two journals for your reading torture.
You don't have to read them all at once. Print 'em, and take them to that little reading room with the white chair. You know you love to read in there. Or print 'em out and use them as doorstops, bookends, or paperweights. You may prefer to leave a message on my voice mail. I award weekly Gift Points for clever, and or entertaining messages left there.
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I have dropped off the edge of the earth, and I can safely say... Christopher Columbus was right, after all. If you just keep driving and driving in a straight line, you'll eventually drive off the edge of the world. It's dark here. There are no witty insights, no ridiculous assumptions, no crazy musings, no gross generalizations or anything else that could be considered fun. Writing takes time, I've come to realize. Damn, I must have had an awful lot of free time on my hands before I took this job. I am finding that I can't sit down and look forward to writing a journal entry anymore. Or at least, not the way I used to. I can't just sit down and fire off something fun, or amusing without really working it out. I have to write something once, look at it, add to it, twist it, tie it off at the main vein, kick it around for awhile, leave it on the screen and walk away while I think about something else, then come back and read it again to see if it says what I wanted it to. It's a lot of work really. Because- who am I kidding? Nobody wants to eat Oscar Meyer when they were looking forward to filet mignon, right? My journal entries have gotten better over the course of the three journals I have created here. I got better at writing while I was here, and now... well now, it has to take a back seat, while I drive off the edge of the earth, over and over again. San Antonio is but one destination at the edge of the earth. Houston is another, and here I am again, laptopping in my double queen smoking room at the LQ in San Antonio, beers iced down in the sink, like some kind of washed up hippie, clothes hung on those funny little hangers in the closet, heater blowing the draperies around in front of the window, comforter thrown on the floor so I don't get cooties from it. That's what happens to hippies you know, they eventually get thrown on the floor like a sex-soiled comforter in a crappy hotel room. Then they grow up and realize that they aren't getting any respect from the rest of the hippies anymore, so they get a real job and start trying to take better care of themselves. Yeah, I know. I can hardly believe it myself. Anyway, I'm still trying to get used to navigating my way through the new job. The holidays just about wrecked me, for sure. I spent all last week on vacation, partly because I needed it, partly because Marv and the kids were off too, and partly because I can't get any audits scheduled when everyone is on vacation, anyway. I worried the whole time, that I was falling behind, that my work was just sitting there waiting for me - I had so much to do. Yesterday was the first day back on the job, and I after praying all weekend that God would take the knot out of my stomach and yank that queasy feeling out of my heart, I was happy to get back to it, and releived to see that my attitude was fine. I don't like to feel dread for my job. Nothing is worse than having Monday lurking around the corner and hating that you have to go to your job in a few more days. I've had jobs that felt like that, and I eventually left them. This job feels like that sometimes. But I think it is primarily because I have not yet conquered it and beat it into submission. My old job had become way to easy, and I'd been doing it since about 1990. So, this is what real work is like. Holy hell! What a difference! Eventually, piece by piece, this job will become like falling off a log, too. Just like the old job was. Right now, though, it's like pushing a damn boulder up a steep hill. Got to keep pushing, too. I don't want that big sonofabitch to start rolling back on my ass. That would suck, and I have all those important audits to do... Today, I visited a company that takes brand new jumbo jets and custom designs the interiors for heads of state and other people with more money than they know what to do with. They rip out all the seats and make luxury suites, and kitchens, movie rooms, living and dining spaces inside the aircraft. Very cool. I gotta get me one of those so I can fly all my celebrity friends around the world. People call me "sir" when I am on the road. It gives me false confidence. I slap on a tie, shine up my shoes, and stride right into a place with instant credibility, and respect. I love that shit. How's that for "witty insight"? I miss all you people, dearly. Later! Z |
| Thirty-four years ago I was a nine year-old, sitting in the basement of Violet Ave elementary school with the rest of the music class. The music teach, Mrs. McKey was going around the room, student by student, asking each of us who our favorite musician or performer was. I don't remember what the other kids' answers were. Probably "The Beatles", and other cool groups of the time, but when it was my turn to answer, the only thing I could thing of was "Johnny Cash", which drew some snickers from my classmates. I don't even think I knew a Johnny Cash song, but pressed for an answer, that's what popped out of my mouth. I was pleased to see on Zach's list of Xmas CD's, Johnny Cash, and Janis Joplin, both of which I happily picked up for him. I'm wrapping presents today and stashing them under the tree. It's great to be home. Merry Christmas to all of you here at WDC! ZD |
| Underneath these things that we pretend to do each day lie our ulterior motives- the things we really want to do, the things we really think about. But we all have to do something with our day to day lives- something substantial and meaningful, even if our dreams aren't. So we swallow the nasty taste in the backs of our throats and we sign on with the man, to do his bidding and make money for him. Wouldn't we all love to be independent and self sufficient like those lucky-mucks on infomercials that miraculously learn how to play the stock market overnight, or learn to how to flip houses and turn real estate into gold? Most of the time, I like to tell myself that all that easy money is too good to be true- and I talk myself into believing it, if only to avoid the hard work that it would involve. I don't like hard work. I don't even like having the prospect of hard work hanging over my head, even if I don't actually have to do it until sometime in the future. But we all have to give in to the power. The power of the man. The power of food, electricity, and shelter. Those things are pretty cool, and we like them alot. So, we get up in the morning and just do it. And after a while, we forget that we have dreams, and we forget that some years have gone by and we're still making money for someone else, and not ourselves. Sometimes I remember. But it doesn't matter, and the thought is short-lived, because I don't really have time to think about it much anymore. Is that sad? Or is it just reality? I guess that's what retirement is for- doing what you want to, instead of what you have to. I can't wait. ZD |
| I know it's been a long time, but something is coming. It will be long, and indulgent, and very much like a giant summary of everything from musical thoughts to life's little insignificancies, to job summaries, to religous awakenings, to family happenings and everything in between. Until then, I'm confident the wait will be worth it. That's easy for me to say... but hey- mama didn't raise no fool. I know what I got. Soon. |
| Inspiration hits in the early evening, when you come home to an empty house. This is written for a friend of mine, a house daddy, with four young kids, while mama works 9 to 5. EAGD Mama Big Where you been ... Mama Big It's time to get yourself home... and take these kids, offa me.... They been wearing me down straight on down, straight on down. Papa Big don't lay around all day long- He's chasin' babies while he's cookin' laundry, and singin' songs.... Mama Big... you gonna bring some back? It's time to get yourself home.. bring some salty snacks, I need some beer... I need to drink one down, straight on down, straight on down... There's a game on TV! And if I had any time I'd make a CD, but this one needs a diaper and that one's got a rash, and there's gonna be lots of trouble if you don't get in the bath. There's a game on TV! And if I had anytime I'd make a CD Papa Big don't lay around all day long. Ain't got no entertainment, Mama Big gonna bring some home... EAGD |
| And there I was, sitting in a corner of Gram's garage, literally swatting flies with the other old men, watching Dallas play football on Thanksgiving afternoon. It was good that I was sitting down, though. I needed that after only ten minutes of chasing Zach around with a soccer ball. Ten minutes. That's all. Just ten minutes. Whew. So, sitting and swatting flies was about all I could muster up after that. I'm good at sitting, though. More evidence of aging. |
| I guess it's safe to say that I've always liked smoke. It sounds funny, but there was something about the way it swirled, blue and translucent around grandma's head that drew my attention. Even the way those Winstons smelled, lingering in the living room next to the fireplace, where she smoked, but especially while she was actually puffing on them. Somebody must have smoked in the car while I was growing up, because I distinctly remember a time when I was in the back seat, watching smoke from someone's cigarette interact with the wind currents coming in and out of the little triangular window in the front seat. The smoke seemed to move, then stop and float, then move again, in synchronicity with itself, like flocks of birds do. I stole cigarettes from adults when I was growing up, which, ironically, was something I got caught doing when I actually became an adult. It was until then that I finally saw the light in that respect. Smoke hanging in the air makes beams of sunlight take form as actual columns and shafts of light. In college, I remember a particular smoke-filled room and a fancy camera that someone owned. We took many pictures of smoke twisting and turning in the air, through the piercing beam of afternoon sun coming through the cracks in the blinds. We were all trying to see the light, I guess, and there are some black and whites pictures somewhere to show for our efforts, although I don't know if it did any of us any good at the time. A portable box fan crammed backwards into a window frame, an RA with his eye raised in suspicion, eventually settled that. Puzzle pieces sometimes don't fall into place, and into perpective until years later. But smoke always hangs in the air somewhere, never fully dissapating until it gains your understanding. And while it hangs there, it has your complete, undivided attention, dancing through the shafts of light. Mr. Sullivan, the saxophone teacher, smoked Marlboro Lights in his office. He smoked like an adult, letting some of the smoke out of his mouth and then snorkeling it up through his nostrils in two, tiny jet trails. Mark blew smoke rings. Big, fat puffy ones through a cardboard, paper towel tube, and then sent tiny ones cruising right through the middle of them. He casually blew smoke out his nose, too, and we all thought it looked so cool. Where there is smoke, there is most certainly fire, but lots of kids searching for an easy identity get pulled into this trap. I stayed home sick one day, and practiced blowing smoke rings in the detached garage on Sequoia Trail. I figured out how to do it, but by the time my parents came home the evening, I was sicker than when they'd left that morning. It's unfortunate, but smoking is an easy way to be part of the crowd, and especially tempting when you don't feel like you have the right identity. Who am I? Where to do I fit in? "If you turn one of the cigarettes in a fresh box, upside down, and save it for last, you get to make a wish on it, and it'll come true. Isn't that cool?" Hobbits blow big fat smoke rings, too, and watch them lazily drift over the hobbit hills. There is something about smoke, alright, and I still don't know what it is. Something about the way it disguises the truth from us is probably what makes it so alluring. Magicians use puffs of smoke to make things disappear, and in our weak moments, so have we. My own weak moments have stuck with me through my life, and they still own me to a certain extent, but with age and perspective comes illumination, and beams of light can still pierce the smoke. Zoo - Salted and Roasted   |
| On a Saturday, you try to pretend you have no responsibilities, that your life is, and always will be filled with hours upon hours of wasted time surmising, and supposing; staring dreamily out into the atmosphere, letting the calm and peace of the doldrums take you out to sea, even when there is no breeze, no wind, no hurricane. The workweek can't see you anymore, and you try to forget that it's there, and that it will be there again in a few days. Even Sunday is not quite like Saturday. It's too close to Monday, to close to the panic and pace that comes with a new week. But the time is now... to embrace your escape, on a Saturday. Try to enjoy it, why dont you? Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
| If Marv's got Duluth and Wyoming going on, then I must have Rhode Island and New Jersey swimming around in my Levis. It's a diminishing state of affairs, but that's the way it is. I officially have the beginnings of 'old man ass', to such an extent that I could stand behind a tree and nothing sticks out. I don't dare put anything in my back pockets anymore, because the weight of said object, no matter how small, would inevitably pull my pants down. There once was a day when my cheeks were full and bountiful; firm as a ripe cantoloupe, brimming with promise. But that was when I was much more active, bicycling wherever I needed to get to, playing tennis and soccer, and climbing the stairs to my dorm room on the third floor of Kendall Hall. Now I do nothing for the health welfare of my cheeks except sit on them all day long. One day, after a particularly strenuous stretch of sitting on my ass all day, I stood up and thought I'd lost one of them. Something felt like it was missing, and sure enough, the left one had all but disappeared. I eventually found it, folded up under the other one, and was mightily relieved... if you'll pardon the pun. I must find something to do with my ass, or atrophy will surely get me in the end. Time to get cracking. Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
Today was a pretty damn good day, I must say. I received an email from my bossman, telling me that I did a very thorough job on one of my audit investigations involving a very suspect claim. I exposed the facts which I believe will eventually result in our customer coughing up some money they owe us for contract labor that they still haven't let us see the remuneration for. In layman's terms, that means that they are most likely hiding a whole slew of uninsured contract labor that we are on the hook for if any of them files a claim. These kind of payments to "employees" do not show up in anyone's payroll registers, and the audit contacts I met with would not produce the cash disbursement journals so we could pick up the exposure and bill them for it. I made careful observations, and wrote a page and a half of notes in Chili's one night down in Brownsville, while drinking a Bud Light and watching the end of the Spurs game. Monday I wrote it all up, and sent it to the branch office. Attorneys will probably get involved from here, because I did my job. My boss sent an email to his boss, telling him, "see what Mike did? I told you he'd be good for this position." So, bam. Validation for me. Hoot! And then today, (to continue with my selfish ego-stroking), I had an all day audit at a new customer's office. This was a huge customer of ours, with two entities operating in three states. Everything went smoothly and when it was all done, the client I met with, asked me if I had a survey thingie for them to complete in order to comment on the job that I did. She said that I was a pleasure to work with, and that I made everything easy for her, and explained what I was doing every step of the way. She wanted to let someone above me in the company know what a great job I did. I gave her one of my business cards and wrote the name and number of the Branch Manager on the back of it. Bless her heart, she's going to call and let them know how happy she was with me. How awesome is that?! The best thing I can do when I am at these appointments, aside from doing a thorough job for the company I work for, is to be impressive, helpful and professional. I am, after all, one of the only people from Zenith that the customer ever meets, so it's always terrific if I can make a great impression on them. Now they love Zenith, because of me! I'm psyched about that. I DID it! I can do this job after all. I AM doing this job! It feels pretty good. Pretty damn good. I'm even a little choked up right now, thinking about it all over again... and this was no easy audit. Two entities, 6 class codes, and over 5 million in payroll, and I handled it all like I've been doing this for years. Wow. KK said it would probably take me all day. I was done by 3:30pm. Granted, I didn't take a lunch, but I did take a 30 minute break, to walk around outside, smoke and make a few phone calls. I've been thinking all along that my company didn't know what they were doing, throwing me into this job when I didn't have any real experience at it, but maybe they saw more in me than I did. Well whaddaya know, I actually CAN do this job. And the great part was, nobody at the client's office had any idea that I've only done a handful of solo audits so far. Pretty cool. I had 'em all fooled. Zoo - Salted and Roasted ** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only ** |
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