Pre-Party

Updates for next time:
I kept a record of all the debit card transactions I went through from last Tuesday, October 23, until this Tuesday. One week. Prepare to poop your pants. Detailed reports will follow at my leisure.
Script is on schedule. Unveiling likely tomorrow night, although if you get an invite, you might not get it until Thursday. But November 1st is a promise I am keeping.

Meet the Robinsons will blow your mind. I'll explain in due time.

Oct. 23rd

Did you get the new Radiohead? You decide what you pay for the download. That's initiative.

I watched jets fly over the city today. They float and drift between buildings, looking for the strip of land large enough to hold their bulky frames.

What if you aren't good at what you love? Maybe the test of courage is answering the question. I'm trying to answer it. Not answering means not failing. I'm trying to keep that, but it creates such a weight upon my body. And that weight is the idea that I am losing my chances. That the world of possibilities, of success and failure and surprises and new directions is slipping silently through my outstretched fingers because I didn't bother to clench them and unrelentingly fight for what ever dreams I have. Because I am afraid.

And this couldn't be a movie or an entertaining story because the answer is so obvious: fight. Fight and fail, fight and win, just fight, so that a story could be told, the story of fighting. I'm held back by a fear of finding my own story.

I am the man from the Harry Potter books who died exactly the same way he lived, without a fight. So I am going to fight.

By November 1st, I will put my script up at Google Docs and send out invitations to those friends who want one, and then they can give me feedback and criticism and construction and that is a step out of the mire. This is a definitive date, so that I can be held to it.

This tastes like paint

There's something about Fall that's nice. The smell of the leaves, or the bite of the cold, or the taste of a hot chai while the wind chaps your face.

I don't update more because I don't have more to say. Work is the same. I will leave soon, I think. I don't know. If I leave this job, do I leave Chicago? Fly to somewhere that is different or new or without people I know or without a job? I did that here. It was a hard few months.

The truth is that I need to work more on the things I care about and let those grow so I can feel some sprinkling of the thing we called fruitfulness.
Bear fruit. Bears eat honey. Honey is not a fruit.

Move the earth.

If Halo was my job, I'd get fired

I haven't updated. The last two weeks have been nothing but work and Halo 3. Which is to say work sucks and Halo 3 is fun.

That's me. It's my...Gamercard.

Work doesn't suck. It just mostly sucks. Its like finding a pizza box in the trash and there's still an untouched pizza in the box! It's free pizza... but it's in the trash. That's like my job. It's really nice to train people about how to be a good barista, but it really sucks being overwhelmed with trainees, not getting paid enough, and dealing with the bureaucracy (hard to spell!) of a corporation. It ends up draining on me. I might quit. Or I'll just stop caring.

I need something more creative. Is it possible to find a job where the two sides of your brain, right and left, are able to operate in unison? Is that a job people have? Or is your hobby your way of using the other side of the brain? So if I got a creative job, I'd make syllabuses in my spare time.

I really do think I'm hilarious.