Fire

So, 2 years and 9 months ago I was on my "Grand Adventure" exploring Korea after a week in Japan reuniting with Plume dormmates. Three month prior to that though, I was in the middle of an inferno that cut through the orchid farm. And I guess being the three year anniversary, now seems like a good time to post about it. Why post about it three years later? you might ask. Well, at the time I was also still focused/ overwhelmed with getting everything together for my "Grand Adventure" trip. Besides, an anniversary seems like a good time to talk about something. Also, when I close my eyes I can't immediately pull-up images of smoke choking a red-tinted sky, or flames marching toward me.

My dad and I were working in one of the fields right before lunch when we smelled the smoke. It was a hot, dry summer and a windy day. We spotted white smoke coming from the property above us further up the mountain. We hoped it was someone burning rubbish but then the flames crossed over a hill, the smoke turning black as it burned through so much dry brush and grass so quickly. We ended up wetting as much of the property line as possible with a bunch of garden hoses connected together. The fire came too fast though and soon the air filled with smoke that almost blacked-out the sun as the sky itself took on a reddish-hue. If you're wondering about any pictures or videos, sorry, I don't have any as I really didn't want to be one of those people that die attempting to get a cool picture or video to post on Facebook.

Together, the two of us made as many passes as we could before the smoke choked our lungs. Exhausted, we headed into the house to rest, knowing the fire outside would burn because that's what fire does, and that we'd soon go back out there because that was all there was to do. At this point, the fire was much closer than when we started, sitting at the property line and threatening soon to jump over. I grabbed the van keys and all my stuff, and insisted we should leave, just abandon the cause, throw the dog into the van, and get the hell out of here. When I asked earlier, my dad said we should stay, believing we could stop it at the property line. Again, he declined, this time because "There's no where to go." At this point we had no idea how far down the mountain the fire had spread, if it was already covering the single road in and out or knocked anything across it. We wouldn't be able to see more than five to ten feet ahead through the smoke. There was a part of me in there though that was screaming, "Fuck that. I've been driving this road every weekend since I was in high school. I could make it blindfolded." But we stayed.

At this point in our story, you're probably thinking, "Alan, come on, where are all those jokes about death that you like to throw out there?" Well, welcome to that section of our story. Of course as I'm sitting there, my mind drifts to the realm of "you could fucking die here." Unlike the movies though my brain didn't bring up loved ones I'll never see again or flashback through my entire life. Instead (and no, I'm not making this up for the post as I'm simply re-writing this from a journal entry I did that night) I was disappointed that I'd never get to see the conclusion to Avengers: Infinity War - and that was it. I might've tried to think about other regrets but really that was just it. Maybe because I wasn't dead yet so there really wasn't a point to worrying about anything real or of substance yet. To jump ahead for a moment (spoiler: I survived) two of my cousins came up the next day to help with the damage. When I told them that my biggest fear from yesterday was burning alive, one of my cousins reported that it probably wasn't that bad depending on how you did it, I guess (he's a doctor he has a doctorate). Supposedly the fire and heat should quickly overload the pain sensors near the top of your skin and render you unconscious. So maybe you'll die of shock or just be unconscious until the fire eventually kills you. Either way, you won't spend an eternity in agony as your skin turns extra crispy. The thing though is that you really need to commit to it, just go right into the flames and hang in there until you're gone.

Back to the house, I was recovering and coughing up what I was sure was my lungs while my dad went back out to man the hose again. After a little while, the smoke thickened and the fires now burned in the yard to one side of the house and in the fields on the other side. I ran outside and started yelling into the smoke. For awhile, there wasn't an answer. I continued screaming, going as close to the flames as I'd dare. Eventually I heard his voice though it would still be another few seconds before he emerged, hacking and coughing as I had been. He handed off the hose and instructed me on where to go while he went into the house. The fire had moved over the property line and was well into the farm by now. With the hose in hand, I was basically just doing hot-spot maintenance, hitting the areas that the fire burned but might come back.

I guess it's at this point that I should give a shout-out/ thank you to Tom Cruise. No, not for any firefighting movies he's done (has he done any?). Earlier in the day we watched Edge of Tomorrow, that one where he fights aliens by reliving the day in a time loop. As I'm soaking as much of the flames as possible, I kept hoping for the fire department to eventually show up and take over as this should be a job for professionals, not some dumbass like me. It's not like bagging my own groceries in the check-out line. Then, the scene from the movie just came to me. It's that part where Cruise's character is first strapped into the mech and he tells the other guy that he's never been in a mech before. The other character just responds with "Yeah, well I've never been with two girls at the same time before. But you can bet when that day comes, I'll make it work." And that line kinda just became my mantra through the rest of the day, just repeating it over and over to get me through the shit.

The fires eventually moved their way passed us/ through us. There was nothing we could do about the fields. The only good thing being the very flammable netting above the fields (orchids don't do well in direct sunlight) and high winds that moved the fire along rather quickly. It probably would've been worse if the fires spread downward to the plants and wooden benches and PVC piping carrying our water. We kept soaking different areas where the flames seemed to keep re-igniting themselves. It was here that I got to fulfill every guy's fantasy - pissing out a fire. Well, close enough. I came across a spot that was smoldering and every so often flames would jump from it. Something to note first: I'd been walking, dragging close to six hoses connected together for hours now. I was exhausted, dehydrated, still a little scared that I would die, plus the hose I was pulling had several leaks in it that soaked my pants all day. Also, I'm not a complete idiot, I'm not going to be putting my exposed dick anywhere near an open flame. That said, at one point while it was just a trail of smoke rising from the pile of wreckage, I put the hose down, unzipped and went to work. Now with all those factors I mentioned working against me, I will admit it wasn't a good showing, but I think I got the job done. This was also about the time that I was working up the courage to apologize to my dad for letting fear get the better of me and trying to bitch out of the task at hand. Everything turned out as best it could and we survived. So obviously he had the right idea to stay. Before I could say anything though he just offhandedly remarked "You know, if I was a smarter we would've left a long time ago." And now I'm thinking "well what the hell am I supposed to do with that, to take away from this experience?" And to this day I'm still trying to process it.

Oh, and if you were wondering, I got some pictures of the aftermath

  

 

 

Backpack Memorial

 

 

So, about two months ago (shut up, I had other things that I was failing to write, but mostly I dreaded going through those old pictures ... ugh just look at that guy), the zipper on my backpack broke. I was just pulling the zipper open, nothing that I hadn't done a million times, and it just came apart. If you've been on vacation with me, went to school with me, worked with me, or have just known me within the last 15 years, you know which backpack. Though one of the pockets now won't close all the way, it isn't completely unusable. I'm not sure if it's repairable, mostly because I'm stupid. Anyways, after surviving this long, I guess I should write some sort of eulogy/ relive some memories before it disappears either into my closet (if I can trick myself that it's still usable) or into the trash.

Yes, I know how weird this entire post is. I'm attempting to write a memorial for a backpack that doesn't give a shit what I say about it, or, more likely after having held my notebooks for over a decade, would rather me not say anything knowing how terrible at writing I am. It was weird going through so many old photos to see if anyone captured a picture of me with my back turned, or if I happened to put my bag down so it's still in the shot. It's also weird that for something I've had since highschool, I can't think of really stand-out significant stories that focus on my backpack. It's been with me through highschool, college, study abroad in Japan, Portland, Seattle, New York (sort-of, I think most days of that trip I carried a drawstring bag), Australia, Seattle again, Japan again, and Korea, and not to mention every single day at this job I've been at for almost 10 years now. I guess the best stories to tell are the times when it really came through for me, whatever that means exactly.

On just a day to day basis, my backpack was responsible for carrying so many things necessary to my daily survival. Items of note include my notebooks and spare pens for when inspiration or boredom strike, whatever book I happen to be reading so I can further avoid participating with society, my phone charger because PokemonGo drains my battery so fast these days, and my hoodie for those odd days when the office A/C is much colder than usual.

There was the time that all I had was my backpack and its contents when Terry and I took a week-long trip to Kyoto (it probably wasn't a week but I know if I start re-reading the journal I kept then I'm going to keep on reading and not finish this stupid post). Not needing an entire suitcase of stuff for just a week of adventure, I managed to stuff my backpack with a week's worth of supplies. Of course, most of it went into a locker at the hostel but the bag came with me as we traveled around Kyoto, Nara, Osaka ... other places (now I can't remember, fuck I'm getting old). Also, just to amend my earlier statement, looks like it was just three or four days at least based on the folders I sorted my pictures from the trip, but that's still a good-sized side quest, right?

Backpack and I also hiked Mt. Fuji with a group while studying abroad, originally starting by holding my hoodie, an extra t-shirt, some snacks and water bottles. That was also when I learned that the reason people hike Mt. Fuji during the summer is not because it's cooler to be on the mountain than in the hot and humid city, but because the weather will kill you at other times. That said, I packed light, leaving behind my actual heavy jacket because I thought I'd be sweating on the hike and I didn't want to carry so much stuff through Tokyo to the bus station. Upon arrival at the freezing mountain though, I immediately emptied by backpack of everything I could wear. The extra shirt and hoodie made the hike survivable but not at all comfortable. Actually, I take that back. The first thing I did after getting off the bus was ask some guy where I could smoke (poisoning my lungs before trekking up a mountain, stupidity really should've killed me off by now). We managed to beat the sunrise to the ... well not quite the top but as high up as we were going to get.

Still on the topic of hiking (which I guess is where backpack stories truly shine), a couple friends and I went exploring the summer palace years and years ago. As we wandered around (I'm not sure what exactly we were looking for) we got lost trying to find our way back to the highway. Then the rain came and drenched us. Lost in the woods and wet, I thought we were going to end up as another story of dumbass hikers needing to be rescued by helicopter. By pure luck (we had no idea where we were going) we managed to find our way out and back to our cars. And, through it all, my bag managed to protect my cigarettes from getting soaked, which I remember being extremely thankful for.

I guess now that we're talking about protecting my stuff from the elements, I'll just quickly mention some notable rain storms that my backpack saved my stuff: That one time I stupidly thought I could walk from Keio University back to the dorm which I think was 14 kilometers or something like that and the rain caught me a couple hours into the walk; My first night in Seattle (the second time) coming back from my friends' apartment and wandering the long way around instead of a straight line from the bus station back to the motel; That one day in my Korea trip that I refused to stay at the hostel all day and headed out into the rain to spend several hours in a library (the housekeeper later looked at me like I was an idiot for not taking any of the free umbrellas).

Finally (or maybe I should've put this in the beginning... oh well too late now), if you cared (and I guess to fill space), about those pictures (from top left clockwise): Feeding deer in Nara; Gundam exhibit at a Uniqlo; Me and the Coronal; waiting for the train from Portland to Seattle; Spark of writing inspiration in Korea; Group picture in Australia; Me and slinky in Enoshima; On the steps of the Sydney Opera House; Tour guide for visiting Japanese highschoolers; ... I'm not sure but I think it's Jiyugaoka; Crossing the street in Kamakura; after classes at UH. Background: Changdeokgung Palace.

Large-Scale Story Problems

 While I keep writing and practicing with the short stories I've been working on (I'm really trying to get up to one story a week), off-and-on for the past couple months I've also been working on something ... large-scale is the best way I can describe it. Large scale like Emberwilde Comes (my pokemon fan-fic) or my failed The Sovereignty superhero storyline which maybe one day I'll go back to work on, in that I plan to keep it going for a while. Unlike Emberwilde Comes this one I'm working on/ have ideas for isn't a fan fiction story and instead based off an original idea, or at least a Writing Prompt idea that got way, way out of hand. It's also a story that I'll probably need help and input from the people so bored that they waste their time reading this thing (Hooray! audience participation, or Boo! fuck your group project). So, because I'm stuck I figure I'll write a post about the issues I'm having, and like most times when I ask for advice, I'll probably just end up ignoring everything you say and do whatever I want anyways (how do I still have a job?). 

Setting: Setting is a big problem I'm having in putting this thing together. Most of my stories are set in the present day or some generic, bland fantasy world and are usually so character-driven that I don't need to spend a lot of time on the setting because I assume my readership can figure it out, close enough. I'm planning for the new story to be set in a traditional swords and sorcery fantasy world except the issue I'm having is how to put the world together. Where should the castle go? Where should the other castles go? How big should the forests be? Will there be a sea element and will the ocean need to be nearby? After working on this on-and-off for months now, I thought I would have a better handle on this, so much so in fact that I even went out to buy a graph paper composition book.

 

Right now I've got just a smidgen more than jackshit. Obviously the big plan as I go further along is to make this thing look more and more like the traditional fantasy maps you'd find in other fantasy books: filled with castles and mountains and towers and villages, all of it with lore attached to them. But then I forget I've got zero artistic ability so the map will still look like shit, but hopefully at least to scale, you know, because of the grid.

Names: I suck at names, there's no denying that. If you've read any of my other stuff, you know it's pretty much insert generic white guy name here and I'll move on because for the stuff I'm writing I don't care what the characters' names are. But for the longer stories, names have meaning (or at least they should) so I can't just give the characters stupid names and move on (why do you think the main character of Emberwilde Comes just goes by The Bearer? I couldn't think of anything else to call him). But also, for something like this, the name of the characters and places are important since I really only get one chance at it. I can't write it, then the next week decide to change it if I think of something better because that's just going to throw off my two readers.

Organization: Keeping everything together and sorted is also something new that I'm tackling. For most one-shot stories, everything just goes in one notebook for several pages (unless I think of something else in-between then I use arrows to let myself know to skip to the next page, or dog-ear the pages I need to go back to). And for Emberwilde Comes, I just use a dedicated notebook with the continuous story going from one side and I've been writing some notes about events I want to use in the back. Since it's fan-fic, I can also very, very easily look up information on characters, places, pokemon, etc if needed/ if I want to. As I said earlier, I bought a book filled with graph paper for maps and I guess I'll write the story in there too, but I also grabbed a second, smaller notebook to jot out different characters along with some traits, descriptions, etc which, as I mentioned earlier, isn't going so well. I've heard of other ways other authors keep track of things in their stories but it's embarrassing to compare myself to them. Plus, where would I even get the money to pay someone to manage a wiki page for me, and where would I even find space to put a giant wooden door.

Seeking Help/ Procrastination: Obviously since something like this is new to me, from all the larger issues I mentioned to the more specific things like world-building and character development and writing endurance, I tried to go outside my own head and the regular media I consume to find information/ inspiration.

I dug these two books out from under my bed at the same time I looked for other older books to re-read (there's so many books under there.) Then I spent an entire night looking through the book of weapons, even those that wouldn't apply to the setting. I didn't even crack open the other book which would probably help my writing more since I did use it as a textbook in class. Also, last week I heard Gecko Books in Kaimuki was having a going out of business sale. I used to visit more often when I attended UH but haven't been by for a while. It felt nostalgic going back and wandering those cramped aisles and trying to look for things without understanding the shelving system. Plus, you know, sale prices. So as I'm struggling to create a new fantasy world and characters to fill it, working on building everything from the ground up, I decided to buy something I thought might help with all of that.

I mean, maybe this will help me develop characters and make dungeons/ maps and write out quests. I know that I can't listen to a three-hour game of Critical Role as I just don't have that much uninterrupted time at work. And who knows, maybe it will be useful if, you know, I ever get around to reading the booklets and playing the game.

Finally, through all of this, I forgot the number one most important thing to do - actually write the story. I got so distracted with planning and putting this whole thing together that I haven't started writing the story yet. My bet, which is a pretty good one playing the odds on my terrible writing style, is if I start writing, all these other details I'm worrying about will resolve themselves and just fall into place.

Notebook Souvenirs

 

 

As the chances of taking a trip this year as planned dwindles daily and, at the same time, I've fallen into a nostalgia-hole thanks to this year's reading list and thinking of better days past, I decided to re-live some past vacations with a particular set of souvenirs. Plus, I'm sure I talked about eventually doing this post while writing my "Grand Adventure" stories. And what kind of souvenirs have I been staring at longingly? you're not asking. In fact, you're probably thinking, "Dammit, everyone knows you're making all this up as an excuse to show off your notebook collection!"

Study Abroad Japan 2009

 

These are the notebooks I brought back from studying abroad in Japan back in 2009. I know what you're thinking. "You bought 4 notebooks in 4 months!" I know, right, I'm surprised I didn't buy so many more, too. The first two on the left I happened upon while wandering the aisles of Don Quijote looking for actual survival-related items. The worst part is that I still do that: walk around stores and if I've got a bunch of purchases, maybe I'll just buy a new notebook too while I'm here. Unlike my other souvenirs, I wrote in them while I was over there and when I came back, though neither are full (not sure why I stopped).

 

This one I got at a Naruto anniversary exhibit ... I forgot exactly where. I know we saw the giant Gundam in Odaiba earlier that day so I think it was close by. In Naruto, there's a character called Sai that carries a notebook telling the story of two warriors fighting foes, their stories starting at opposite covers of the book until they inevitably meet in the middle. And that's why I loved this notebook once I saw it, because it sort-of replicates that from the manga.

The Gundam notebook I picked up when I went to see the giant Gundam in Odaiba. There's nothing uniquely special about the notebook itself. What does make it special is the story associated with it. I got the notebook on my third visit, the same trip that I finally managed to get my hands on a souvenir Gundam model. Several of us wanted kits but they sold out every previous time we went. On my third trip no one else could go, so off I went alone with the goal of grabbing as many kits as I could. The issue though was the "one per customer" limit. Once I got to the site, I immediately grabbed a model. I walked around for an hour, and then came back to the souvenir tent with the model shoved in my backpack. Knowing that I look like tourist, and in case someone recognized me, I bought not only another model but the notebook, a poster, and probably some other things that I've lost by now in the hopes that the extra purchases might throw off their suspicions. "No, he couldn't be the same guy that was here earlier just trying to get a second model, or why would he be buying all those extra things, too," they'll think to themselves. With the two models, I now needed a plan to get a third. Hiding two in my backpack wasn't going to work. I attempted to ask a guy with two small kids if he could buy me a kit since he was only buying one but I couldn't figure out the words fast enough. I did try to explain/lie to one of the workers that my friend loves Gundam but is sick so can I buy two but he wasn't buying my bullshit. I think eventually I got a call from someone at the dorm that we were doing something/drinking that night, so I gave up and left.

Portland/Seattle/San Francisco 2010

I got both of these in Seattle at ... I don't remember the name of the store. The first one is just a regular lined notebook but the cover made me laugh. I think the real reason I haven't used it has less to do with it being a souvenir and more to do with that thick spine. As I've mentioned (and no one cares) I do a lot of my writing sitting on my bed using a half-inch binder as a table, so I tend to bend my notebooks in half or else it's just burdensome to write upon.

The other notebook is filled with pictures of walls. Am I supposed to use it to practice tagging? To figure out stencil sizes? Are they supposed to be famous walls? Who knows. I'm not even sure what I can use it for. What types of stories do I write in it?

Australia 2013

The infamous blue notebook! I bought this from a random street vendor selling a bunch of (what I assume) are leather-bound notebooks. No, I can't tell you what drew my eye to the blue one, but I bought it instead of the other brown ones. What a mistake as I discovered the shitty dye job when the color smeared onto my fingers. Update: it still smears as I have blue ink on my fingers yet again. And that's why it stays in its own ziploc bag all the time to keep it from touching my other notebooks. Besides all that, I still like it. It reminds me of a notebook an adventurer on an epic quest or journey might carry, paper bound in hide and I can use the string to tie it all up to protect it from the elements. I know, why don't I write more high fantasy, swords-and-sorcery type stories?

New York 2015

I got all of these at museums while I was wandering New York. The black one and the two smaller, pocket-sized ones on the bottom I got at the Metropolitan Museum of Art while the white one I got at the Museum of Modern Art. The black one I got from the MET is definitely the cooler of the four: it's a hardcover with three different types of paper (lined, graph, and blank) and a flap in the back cover to hold loose notes. I meant to use it to write a fantasy, "swords and sorcery" type story to utilize all the paper types (lined for prose, graph for maps, blank for pictures) but now I don't even want to use it (I'll just buy another graph paper notebook instead).

The two on the bottom are smaller, pocket-sized notebooks. At the time I thought they were a weird size, as they were bigger than the ones I carried in my pocket but smaller than the ones I carried in my bag. Recently though, I've been carrying notebooks about this size and finding they're just the right size for either writing notes or even short sections of stories on the go when I've got the free time - waiting for my food order, sitting at a bar, between phone calls at my desk, etc.

Seattle 2017

 

Honestly, I almost didn't buy a notebook on this trip. There's nothing really special or interesting about it and I don't care for the plastic cover. I bought it just because I needed to buy a notebook. I really wanted to get one from the Museum of Pop Culture that I visited earlier in the day but I couldn't find one I liked. Or, if I'm remembering correctly, I just couldn't find one. And the writing workshop wouldn't be selling any because, really, as if the people attending the conference wouldn't have their own notebooks, as well as their own peculiarities and personal preferences regarding their notebooks. I'd definitely recommend visiting the Chihuly Garden and Glass Museum. The shapes and shadows and lighting and colors, it was mesmerizing and, if you have the same loose grip on reality that I do, perhaps you'll see something in those shapes to use in your next story, or nightmare, or wherever your personal demons and hallucinations take you.

Do you also see it?

 

Grand Adventure (Japan/Korea) 2018

 

Both of these notebooks are from the Korea part of my trip. I just couldn't find a notebook I wanted while I was in Japan. I know, I could've just picked one off the shelf in a Don Quijote or Family Mart but it wouldn't be the same. I think the only place I would've liked to buy one was from was the Jump Store but I couldn't find one I like there (I haven't been watching as much anime as I used to). The first notebook I picked up from a Line Store I visited my first day in Korea. At the entrance sat a giant Brown. Thanks to the crossovers with popular animes, I spent a good deal of money on that Line Rangers game. The other one I got from a palace gift shop while I was touring with Tina. Honestly, if you showed me pictures and told me to match them with the names of the palaces, I really wouldn't be able to match them correctly except by sheer luck. At some point they all started to look the same. That said, I also can't tell you which palace I picked it up from.

Hopefully, once this current crisis is over and we can go traveling safely again without all the restrictions in place, I'll get to add more notebooks to the collection.

As a bonus (why are you still here?), here's pictures of some of the notebooks people have brought me as souvenirs from their trips, kind of like how people exchange shot glasses, or other things I don't know I'm not good with gifts.

Getting Back in the Game

Instead of writing actual stories, I decided to waste time detailing the writing issues I'm encountering as I do my ... 65-75% best to get back into writing. Basically just a dumb list of of things I'm encountering since I fell off of writing for almost a full year. Why even give this the time? Because it feels good to complain, and really, isn't that what the internet is for? Also, I was listening to an interview with author V.E. Schwab (Shades of Magic series, Vicious) when she responded to a question about her writing process, "I kind of love any opportunity I have to procrastinate on one thing that needs to be done with another thing that needs to be done." And that's the same advice I heard from other writers too, if you don't want to or just can't write, maybe just do something writing adjacent. I don't want to work on Project A so I'll do Project B. And I know that this doesn't need to be done, but it seemed like something fun, so here we are.

Also, just to give some background without going into a lot of detail, it was just a lot. I had these ideas ... for short stories and responses to Reddit prompts that I scrolled through daily, those vacation posts I wanted to finish as soon as possible and instead ended up taking a year to put together, longer story ideas for a series (if you remember my Pokemon fanfic which I promise I'm still sort of working on), an actual novel idea, different projects I wanted to start on as regular weekly or monthly posts ... and I just couldn't settle on one to work on without two or three other ideas coming into my head, like bored children jumping up and down asking when it's their turn to play. And just like slapping children, slapping at ideas is frowned upon by society, especially in public where authorities tend to be called.

Concentration is the biggest hurdle right now. Sure, it has never been my best quality, but I swear I used to have at least slightly better focus than I do now when I have a pen in my hand. Typically music helps with that by becoming the background noise that drowns out the other background noises, but even that trick has abandoned me. Now everything needs to follow a specific system or else it all just falls apart. I deleted all my writing playlists a long time ago. I assumed I didn't need playlists filled with anime theme songs, k-pop, and Chemical Brothers anymore since I could write with whatever was playing. Now, I NEED silence to start. That's the time I use to come up with the ideas to focus upon. Only AFTER I've got some idea, direction, and hopefully a couple sentences written can I put on music, and very specifically, the music I used to use (meaning I should probably get started on a new writing playlist). For now I just shuffle the kpop genre or Scandal on my iPod, or else put Youtube on autoplay.

On the topic of music, when I use Youtube for music, I now run into something newly annoying: Grammarly Ads

The worst part: I watched several Grammarly ads just to find a screenshot to use, some of those ads I watched all the way through. I'm not sure if Youtube is associated with Blogger or if Skynet is just being an asshole, but without fail anytime I'm typing up a post a Grammarly ad is sure to pop-up. Look, I get it, I'm not good at this. I don't need our AI overlords taking a heaping shit on my hobbies. 90% of them are skippable after the first 5 seconds, but it does break my rhythm and already fragile concentration to stop my typing to switch to another tab to skip the ad which most times is actually almost done, only to repeat the process every 3 minutes and 30 seconds.

As much as I prefer writing on paper, eventually it does need to be transferred onto the computer or else what's the point. Plus, how would I bother those handful of you that actually waste your time reading this thing? Typing, I find, is a hurdle all on its own. My laptop isn't the best, nor the most convenient. Being over 10 years old, it isn't the fastest to start-up nor does it have the best battery life.

Also, since I don't use it often, it's also always buried under a stack of paper and books (relax, they're not hardcovers). Without a table, that stack of books in the picture on the right also gets moved so I can get to the binder underneath. I already spend 8 hours in front of a computer so doing it again for several more hours isn't really an appealing way to spend my night. It's also never as simple as just typing up what I've handwritten word for word. Typing up anything immediately becomes a revision of my work. If it's going onto Reddit, the main issue is that the word count is always too high so I'm spending time cutting things out while trying to make sure it makes sense. Just knowing that I'm going to re-read and edit it all six or seven or eight different times before I decide that it doesn't completely suck fills me with dread. Anything, really, could stall the task of trying to get my words typed up. Then comes the obvious hardship of trying not to get distracted by all the entertainment the internet offers: Plane fares for an upcOming tRip, clips of aNime fight scenes, POcket knives, new Reddit writiNg prompts, kPop music videos, cOmedy stand-ups, Reading other people's blogs, New books to add to my reading list, etc.

I tried to find someplace quiet to write on my own without worrying about other people bothering me. Prior to the COVID-19 outbreak, every other week or so I holed up in a library someplace on one of those days that it closes up late, around 8pm or so. Obviously not so much right now. I've never been comfortable writing in front of people mostly because they have an annoying habit of talking to me, usually with one of the two (or sometimes both) of the popular questions: 1)What are you writing? or 2) You know what you should add to your story? And there's only so many times I can tell people that I'm working on my suicide note before they start referring me to a hotline, or I actually get around to finishing it (it's going really well). At the library, the general public doesn't care about me as long as I keep to myself and because if I start looking around, parents tend to hold their children a little closer. No, I don't have a library card but there isn't a bouncer at the door. Most have free parking. If I can get there after work, in a usual 1 and a 1/2 to 2 hours of silence and lack of distractions I feel like I can get a lot more written than at home. I'm still not sure if it is because I'm able to focus more at the library, or if I can just get more written at 5pm than at 9:30 or 10:00pm?

With a lot of my writing coming from Reddit, before I wanted to write for only the newest, most upvoted prompts since I believed that was the best way to get my story read and get those upvotes. Starting back up again, I've found that I don't care about that kind of shit anymore. For one, I can't stay up that late anymore to first post a story to a popular prompt. I do most of my writing after 8pm nowadays and to spend several hours on a story usually means finishing up, if I manage to finish, around 11:30pm, or 12am, or 1am. You know when you're watching a show and you tell yourself, "okay, just one more episode because I've gotta get up to go to work tomorrow," and then all of a sudden you realize you made a mistake because you need to be up for work in an hour? Yeah, same thing. I'll look at the clock and just think, "Maybe I can just finish up this part and tweak that part and then I'm done." Then it's about 1:30am and I'm just thinking, "I made a mistake," and even my inner voice is saying, "You made a mistake." I'm also trying to do the prompts with few or no responses. I figure if only one person replies then the prompter is probably more likely to read it. Plus there's less pressure on rushing to finish since most are already a day or a week old, giving myself more time to be the shitty writer I am, and so I can stop writing when it starts to get late and go to sleep. My brain just doesn't work well in the fog as it used to when I could function off of a couple hours of sleep for a few days. Even just for blog posts like this one, I'll typically finish up late enough that I can't re-read it properly, and so the editing and tweaking gets pushed to the next day, usually during my morning cigarette or while I'm eating lunch (as long as no one else is in the lunch room).

And right in the middle of this writing revival as I got back to picking up my pen and notebooks with some regularity, I committed THE cardinal sin - I stopped writing. Call of Duty came out and as long as it took me to still not finish Devil May Cry V, I sped through the campaign and did something I never do, I started on the multiplayer and got hooked on it. No, I still suck at it, but luckily, I'm not easily discouraged or else dying 20-30 times a game would be a real turn-off. So of course, I fell off and needed to work to get back to writing again. I think I've gotten that little addiction sort of squared away, feeding it every so often, but at least I'm starting to write more of those horrible stories again.

Ex-Raid: A PokemonGo Story

Months ago (shut up, at least I'm finally getting around to cleaning out my notebook of unfinished or just untyped stories) I received an Ex-Raid pass. At first, I thought it was just a special raid pass that could be used multiple times or maybe I would get more experience per raid, which made me feel stupid because at the time I'd just bought a bunch of raid passes. After looking it up online, turns out these are the passes you need to do the Mewtwo raid! So that's exciting! Right? or am I just the only person left who plays? Typically, most of my raid battling consists of the low 1 or 2 level raids that I can solo and only a handful of times have I even gotten around to doing the the Legendary Raids (and even then, I've only got 2 of them, and unfortunately none of the birds).

Anyway, the pass is only good at a specified date and time and gym. So after work, I raced to the spot unsure about what I'd find. I mean, I rarely encounter anyone when I'm playing, what are the chances a bunch of people are going to get together to play Pokemon? So I managed to get there with just 10 minutes or so to spare until the raid starts - and there was already a bunch of people waiting around. There was also a Legendary Egg at the gym which confused the shit out of me. Why would there be a Legendary Raid at the same time as this supposedly exclusive raid is going to happen? That question was quickly answered when a couple people walked over, phones in hand, to ask if there was a raid going on, and why they couldn't see it in their games. So, turns out that you can only see the Ex-Raid if you've gotten the Ex-Raid pass ... and those other people left, disappointed.

The group of people waiting around turned out to look kind of like me: all of them around the same age in clothes that suggested they all might've come straight from work, too. Most people there had never done a Mewtwo raid yet, so I didn't feel that stupid not knowing just how strong it was supposed to be. A few people had already done the raid before, though I didn't hear if anyone had actually caught one yet. And, as always, there was already a guy trying to lead the group, talking about what types of pokemon would be good to use, how we should split ourselves in case there was too many to fit into one lobby, etc. "If the group is too large for all of us to fit in the lobby, we should just split between Mystic and Valor," he said. Then he turned to me, the newest arrival, and asked on which team I played. "Instinct," I replied. "Oh," was all he said before turning to someone else. And now, in my head, I'm just thinking, Oh, well fuck you too then asshole. Instinct's a strong team too, even though we do a bunch of dumb stuff

Like the All Eevee Gym

The Flintstone Gym (Because of the prehistoric pokemon, and the Croconaw looks like it's wearing a loincloth)

Or, how we couldn't even put together an all Yellow pokemon gym

this annoyed me more than Pokemon should annoy a grown adult

 Ummm, okay, so we're not that serious...

Well, before I got to the raid, I asked my co-worker what would be some good pokemon to use, which he recommended Dark, Ghost, and Bug type pokemon. Actually, what he recommended were pokemon I didn't have: "Use your Tyranitar if it's got good Dark attacks." "I don't have a Tyranitar."; "A strong Gengar?" "Mine is weak."; "A Pinsir?" "Dumped it awhile back." He also recommended a bunch of Legendary pokemon which I failed to catch when they were available. Well, what I did have were a bunch of pokemon with at least one Dark attack

at least my Gyarados and Granbull have 2 dark attacks

If you've done at least one raid before you know how this next part goes. And so, strength in numbers prevailed (I think we had enough to fill up the 20 person lobby limit) and we defeated the Mewtwo! Then came the real challenge: catching it. I'm dumping every golden raspberry I can, trying to use the spin technique, someone even told me that if you tap the screen as the pokeball shakes, it's supposed to up your odds of the pokeball staying closed, any trick I can to keep it in the ball. As I'm throwing, I hear someone say, "Wow, first throw." Well, keep it to yourself, asshole! I shout in my head as I toss another pokeball just to watch it burst out at the first shake. Well, eventually, I just ran out of pokeballs and I failed. So, goodbye Mewtwo. Just another waiting game until I can get another one of specialty raid passes, I guess.

Play Time!

Opportunity knocked and I at least cracked the door open a bit to see what the hell it wanted. But first, I'm assuming you want some context. On days when I have things to do after work, I'll usually end up eating dinner alone someplace, preferably someplace where no one will bother me so I can get some writing done while I eat. It is literally one of the few things in life that I look forward to when I've got free time. One of my favorite spots to do this is the Ala Moana Food Court as there's a lot of seating, a variety of foods, and the constant drone of people talking amongst themselves provides some good background noise. And so, with a philly cheesesteak, fries, coke, and my notebook, I took a seat and started eating and writing as I planned. However, instead of having a short story about the first humans (or at least part of it ... honestly, I wasn't going to get it done until the end of the week anyways), well, instead I've got this chance encounter (disclaimer: definitely not exactly how it happened, but very, very close to what I can remember from last night):

"Hi, you're handwriting is so tiny, I can barely read it," she said as she sat down across from me. A woman wearing a purple sweater with a half-finished Starbucks cup and a smile like she was selling something, or she was trying to flirt with me (I'm still really bad at reading people).

Naturally, I responded with a smile (as people respond better to a smile, plus it's my natural response to unfamiliar situations by mimicking the other person), "Someone told me that I have the handwriting of a serial killer."

Seriously, do you approach someone who writes like this?

"Well, that's not something you hear very often, not what I was expecting," she responded. "Is this a journal that you write down your day-to-day feelings in?"

Still smiling, "Nope, just stories, mostly fantasy stuff" I said while taking a bite of my sandwich. Even if it was a diary, what kind of weirdo keeps a diary out in the open? And who needs to write down their feelings in the middle of a crowded mall?

She asks about what I do for a living. Not wanting to explain my job, and not wanting to be part of this questionable conversation anymore (probably more due to my natural mistrust of other people than the feeling that maybe this is some sort of scam) I tell her I'm a telemarketer. "I sell magazines over the phone." People hate telemarketers, maybe this will get her to leave.

She doesn't leave. "Wow, I didn't know people still bought magazines. With everything on their phones why would they need to buy magazines?"


I finish chewing my sandwich, the bread has started to get soggy at the bottom and falling apart. I'm annoyed. Maybe this is how my old co-worker used to feel when guys approached her at the gym when all she wants to do is work out. "Sometimes magazines will offer special access to online stuff if you buy a yearly subscription." Before she can ask, I add, "Not sure which ones though, I just sell the magazines."

"You must get hung up on a lot?"

I shrug my shoulders, "It gives me time to read."

"Do you work on commission then, if you get hung up on a lot?"

Is she a prostitute? That's the only person I could think of that would ask anyone up front how much money they make? "Yeah, though we do get a slight base pay for getting hung up on a lot." I've also just realized that she didn't take the bait when I mentioned I write Fantasy stories. Every other time I've mentioned it to anyone, they at least ask something about what I'm writing. I'm a little suspicious now.

"Oh, have you had any other jobs besides this one?"


"I worked at an auto shop for a while."

"You must've made good money there?"

Back to money, what is going on? "Not really. More like Mechanic apprentice, one of those 'will train' kind of jobs. I mostly just got in the way."

"Well, you must've gone to school."

"Yeah," I say, pointing to the open notebook that I was clearly writing in before she came over, "English degree."

"Right, you write stories. Are you a good at it? They say the only way to make money is by getting published."

"Not really, but thanks for that."


This goes on for a while, her asking questions, me giving short replies, everything seeming to always go back to money. Finally we get to the point -

"Well, the reason I came over here was about a year ago, I met this group of people and they introduced me to this 28 year old woman who managed to make enough money that she is basically retired now. And she took me under her wing and taught me how to become financially free. And I was wondering if you'd like me to introduce you to her. She's got a house in Kahala, you know where the upper class live."

Well, final-fucking-ly, we've gotten to the point of this scam. And not only that, but a vaguely familiar sounding scam, like I've heard it before, but I'm not quite certain. My imagination quickly runs off several scenarios: 1) This is a scam to steal my money/ pyramid scheme shit; 2) This is a scam to lure me into a mugging; 3) This is a scam to lure me into The Sharing and they're going to drop a Yeerk into my brain (highly improbable, but I read a lot of Animorphs as a kid). "No, that's okay. I'm fine for now," I say, hoping I'm polite enough that she'll realize she's made her pitch and will go away now that I've turned down her offer.

She doesn't go away. Instead she stays to continue to try to sell me on this idea that her prophet can change my life. What this also gives me is an opportunity I have few and far between, the chance to talk without consequence: 1) I don't care who she is; 2) she has no connection to the rest of my life; but, most of all, 3) she can leave whenever she wants, she sat next to me after all, I've no responsibility as a host to make her feel comfortable, this isn't the bus or the train where she can't run away. I'll admit, more than likely a lot of my replies were more nonsensical than witty retorts as I tend to argue the same way I play FPS games: I'm definitely not the sniper, more like the guy that decides to just fill the air with bullets and hope some of them find a target. But I do like to think I got at least a couple good one-liners in there:


Her (H): "Well, she is teaching me about gaining financial freedom to achieve your full potential. Wouldn't you like to live up to your full potential?"
Me (M): She's still trying to get you into The Sharing. Don't go with her. And don't mention Yeerks or she'll know and they'll get you. "I'm okay with striving to be in the middle 2/3 of people."
H: "If you were to achieve your full potential, think of all the good you could do."
M: "Or the terrible things."
H: "You can't do bad things if you're seeking your full potential."
M: I struggle not to blurt out the names Adolf Hitler, Dylan Roof, or Stephen Paddock. "Well, you never know," I say instead.
H: "So you're okay with not trying on the off chance you might hurt someone?"
M: I'm telling you, don't mention Hitler, it's going to take this conversation someplace you don't want it to go, yet. You might scare her away. "It's working so far."
H: "Don't your parents want you to achieve your full potential?"
M: "Don't know, I've never asked."
H: "What do you mean, I'm sure they do."
M: "Like I said, I never asked. Maybe they're happy with having me around to do chores and stuff."

H: "Are you really okay with just being average?"
M: "Yeah, you should try it sometime."
H: She turns slightly, staring off to the side. "No, now that I'm on this path, I can't be average."
M: "Sure you can. It's so easy to go back."
H: "Maybe we could get you a badge, "Average" and you could wear it."
M: "Yeah, a big, red A" really hoping she got the "The Scarlett Letter" reference, though probably not.
H: "Well maybe you're okay with being part of the 98% of other people."
M: "99%"
H: "Well I'm not going to be average."
M: say it, say, "No, you're just going to run a scam on the average people." Say it! No, don't do it or you'll scare her away. I say nothing as I would probably just repeat the "you could try" line. Instead I wait for her to take another angle with her pitch.

H: "You know, I used to be like you, living for the weekend, just to watch a bunch of movies, living vicariously through their lives"
M: "Yeah, now is actually a great time for television, there's so many good shows."
H: "Are you really okay with that, TV is a drug, making you into a zombie."
M: "There's some really good zombie shows on TV too."

H: "You don't want to be that person who wakes up 30, 40, 50 years in the future with just regrets."
M: "You never know, maybe I'll be dead before then."
H: she stares at me, mouth agape as if she's never heard any talk about dying like that.
M: "Seems better than living with all that regret."
H: "But if you do live that long?"
M: "Well, the trick is to just not think about those regrets."
H: "So you're just going to lie to yourself for the rest of your life?"
M: "Now you've got it."
H: "Well, unless you do something about your situation, it's not going to change overnight."
M: "Unless I win the lottery. Oh, except we don't have a lottery here. So I'd have to move to the mainland to win."
H: "You have a better chance of getting struck by lightning than winning the lottery."
M: "So the dead thing is looking more and more like the better option."
H: "That's not what I meant."

Eventually, as all things do, she got fed up and moved along

H: "You know, I can't tell if anything you've been saying is real or not. Is Alan even your real name?"
M: "That's the fun with words. It's what I have a degree in, remember."
H: "Well, words are just words unless you have action behind them."
M: "Yeah, that's why I said this is fun, it's just words."


And then she was gone. I finished up my now cold fries and tried to write more on the story I was originally working on, but couldn't, I was still on a rush from this last conversation, trying to replay it in my head as best as I could, to hold onto it. It isn't often I get a chance to play with words in a setting where I don't give a fuck.
As I drove home, my thoughts went in the opposite direction: Shit, what if she was on the level, what if she really was following a prophet, what if I just turned down Jesus? What if I was a dick to one of Jesus' new apostles? Then I started thinking about Yeerks again and it scared me back to reality. I really wanted to ask if the group she was with was "The Sharing" where they take you in, gain your trust, then put a mind-controlling brain slug in your head. But the first rule when dealing with Body Snatchers is you don't mention Body Snatchers, you know, just in case one of the Body Snatchers overhears and then they can get you.

Also, I told my family this story when I got home and both my sisters also mentioned that they were approached by someone at the mall who gave basically the same story, and apparently I was there at one of those times (though I don't really remember talking to the person). So, I'm not sure if my instincts were right on this one, or just my need to finally be an asshole to a complete stranger got the better of me. Anyways, I'm working on that other story so hopefully sometime next week ... who am I kidding, you don't care, like I said, I'm not that good a writer anyway, but it's still fun with words. And that's how I spent the second day of the New Year.

I'm Out of My League

So, if you're a regular reader (which no one should be wasting that much time), you may have noticed that before every trip I'll write a post to give myself a preview of what may or may not come (that's right, none of this is meant for you). It helps me plan out things to do, deal with some of the anxiety I have before getting on the plane, and it lets my mom know where I'll be when I don't show up for dinner. Just kidding, she doesn't read this, though I did forget to tell her until a couple days ago.

Writer's block

At the moment though, it's not working out the way I'd hoped. Next week, I'll be in Bellevue, Washington for a writing workshop. Before you get mistakenly awed and amazed, there's no screening process or else there's no way Alan - "Yeah, I kind of write, sort of, whenever a writing prompt on Reddit catches my attention or whenever I can put together a coherent set of paragraphs for a blog post" - would be allowed at any writing event. All I needed to do was put in some cash and they said, "Okay, you can come" in what I imagine was probably said in the most reluctant tone ever. And as excited as I was when I signed up just over a month ago, the whole trip kind of snuck up on me until about a week ago. I'd been focused on taking care of a toothache and then getting a crown fitted onto that bastard that I haven't really been doing much else. Basically, I'd forgotten to do all of the things I'd planned to do to prepare for the workshop:

1. Prep for the agent interview: For reasons beyond me, past-Alan decided to sign us up for a 10minute meeting with an agent. Typically it's recommended that you use this time to pitch your marketable story idea. Well, he didn't have one then, and I don't have one now. Besides, no one is going to buy just an idea. I'm 95% sure they'd like at least some hard evidence that you're actually working on whatever it is you're trying to sell to them before they give you the money. Recently I asked past-Alan about this and he reasoned that we can at least ask questions about the marketing side of publishing - a good idea except he didn't come up with any questions either! Ugh, why are you so dumb?! ("Meh" shrugging shoulders) Asshole.

2. Write a first page of a story: One of the classes during the workshop that caught my eye was a part of the day where some of the attending agents would provide critiques of submitted first-pages of participants' stories. It's been awhile since I've written anything I've considered marketable and even longer since I've had my worked looked over in detail (no one really does on Reddit... at least not on my work). So this one really caught my attention. However, without a story of course, I don't have a page one to present, and I definitely don't want to show off some half-assed page one and give the impression that this is my best work. When real desperation settles in, I may need to just polish off those turds of "The Sovereignty" or, even worse, "The Dealer." Oh, I really do hate myself for bringing those stories up (I swore I'd never go back).

3. Come up with a persona to use when networking: Obviously, one of the big pulls of going to conventions are to meet similar, like-minded people to build a network of others that share your interests. You go to car shows to meet other car enthusiasts, anime conventions to meet other cos-players, the bar down the street to meet other drunks. This workshop is no different and it's one day to make the best impression so they'll want to talk to me again, especially since they'll need to first deal with my worst quality - myself. So, as much fun as it is to be my usual, oblivious-to-the-world self, I thought I should be a bit more professional - more like "Yeah, I've got two novels written, one of them I'm thinking about turning into a possible trilogy, just looking for someone to help me market it." As fake as it sounds, it does sound better than "Yeah, I typically spend too much time on Reddit, usually leaving comments and critiques on other people's work rather than taking the time to write my own stories, as well as struggling to stay focused enough to blog as infrequently as I do." Actually, I take it back, that's the better one, at least they know that you can trust me to read work and probably won't be asking for a whole lot of critiques on my own work (since I don't have any). Besides who doesn't appreciate it when someone reads their work.

And now that I've dumped all of my worries on the screen, you're probably wondering, "why the hell are you even going to this thing so unprepared?" And if you're a regular reader of my stories (which, again, you really should find a different hobby) you're probably wondering why I'm going to a workshop in the first place when I should obviously be practicing a lot more. Well, a friend of mine from an English Writing class all those years ago let me know about it about two months ago. It took me awhile to decide whether or not to go since a lot of the presentations deal with publishing and marketing, you know, things that you should think about when you've got actual marketable stories, while I'm still barely in the process of liking the things that I write. What changed my mind? Well, I'd have to give the credit to Shia LaBeouf as Louis Stevens for convincing me that this was a good idea. Not sure how or why I even remembered it, but there was this episode of "Even Stevens" (yeah, I thought alcohol would've killed my long-term memory by now too) where Louis wanted to learn to play the drums but didn't want to study the boring exercise book. So, the family hires a guy to teach him and, at his performance for the family, Louis starts banging on the drums like a maniac, kicking over the stands, etc. Then the teacher explains, now that you've had your fun and seen what it's like to be a rock star, you gotta learn the basics to get to do that again and hands him the same boring exercise book. Basically, this is my "rock star moment", to see what kind of options are out there before once again returning to working on story after story in my quest to find something acceptable.

Also, all of that you just read is regarding a ONE DAY workshop. I'm still going to be there for 4 more days. I guess I could find something to do around Bellevue (though I looked it up just now and a lot of it looks like outdoor activities, so that's out). I guess I could also take the bus or taxi into Seattle and find something to do. There's gotta be plenty of things to do over there. Or I could always stay indoors to catch up on reading, or even get back into Monster Hunter (I've been trying to practice once a week again). Mostly I've just been trying to prepare to survive the cold by trying to wear my jacket in the office as little as I can, because that memory is still seared into my mind from the last time I was in Seattle.

so cold (Seattle 2010)

Other than that, the only other thing I've spent a lot of time thinking about is how different it's going to be to stay in my own hotel room. All of my other trips I've either slept on someone's couch or floor, or if I had a bed, it was a hostel bunk. So this will be a real change from any trip I've taken before. I'm not going to lie, the room was more than my plane ticket and the cost of admission to the workshop, combined. If it's as good looking as the pictures, it'll be worth it. And yes, I did splurge a little for the King bed (no idea what that's going to be like as I've slept on a twin all my life). And the last time I had a room all to myself was just about 8 years ago, so I can't guarantee that the moment I set foot into the room I'm not going to just start throwing all of my stuff all over the place. Okay, that's a lie, because the first thing I'm probably going to do is fall asleep since I'm going to be landing at almost 10pm (it was either that or landing at 6am, I'm hoping this was the better choice).

Besides that one day, maybe it'll just be 4 days in a warm hotel room trying to write stories. Honestly, probably not the greatest way to spend a vacation but not the worst way either (I mean, I spent a day doing it in a crowded New York library). At least I'm pretty sure the room has a desk which will be a huge improvement from sitting on my bed using an old, stuffed binder as a table, and a chair won't be as lumpy as my bed is. And there's supposed to be a coffee maker so that's an improvement too, I guess. And wifi. Maybe I won't even have to leave the room (it would make packing easier). Though I will need to find time to buy pens to bring back to my co-workers.

Just to end this on a funnier note: my sister asked if she could use my car while I'm gone. I'm not too worried if she just wants to practice going around the block (though she can't quite park off the road). However, I made sure to give her the same answer dad gave me when I was driving the Aerio without a license: "Go ahead. If the cops ask, I'll just tell them you stole it."

5 Years, Some Office Stories

Sometime last week, one of my co-workers brought up that our time-off had been updated. Okay, maybe first I need to explain that the company distributes vacation time on a quarterly-basis (every three months for those of you who can't divide). So every three months, I've been accruing 2.5days or 20hours. Out of curiosity (since I'm not going on a trip anytime soon), I decided to check to make sure my time was there too. Instead, I found this:

I've been staring at this page for years now, trust me when I say something isn't right

As you can see, that is not the amount of time I expected to have accrued. Quickly I tried to run through the math: maybe they had calculated it wrong, or maybe they had added an extra month of vacation hours to the 20hours I'm supposed to get, but none of it made any sense. Then I realized what happened. I'm not sure how to describe what happened next. I know that it involved a lot of sighing, probably several f-bombs, spinning a couple of times in my chair: basically a childish tantrum was thrown for several minutes while I tried to figure out how I let this happen. You see, for a minute, I'd forgotten that the company has a tiered vacation accrual process: when you've been there for enough time, you move up to the next earning bracket. Basically, I'd just hit the 5 year mark and now earn 3.75days each quarter. Fuck!

To be honest (and I don't care, my co-workers don't read this) I never meant to hit the 3 year mark, much less the 5 year mark. When I started, my particular job was easy enough that I picked it up in less than a month. Even when they continued to tweak the procedures I was supposed to follow, I usually picked it up in a week or two. I knew when I started (or at least I thought I did) that I would eventually get bored, which I expected to hit around year 2. And at some times, I admit, it did. However, there were plenty of things that held my interest, which explains why I'm still here without an escape plan yet. I've been able to take almost all of the vacations and even days-off that I wanted (I should've taken more, especially while I'm still freeloading at home). There really hasn't been any stress to the job - I'm able to come in to work, do the job, and go home. It learned how offices work (my previous job experiences being the orchid farm and the University of Hawaii auto shop) as well as 85% of all the other jobs in this place just from helping to cover people when they're on vacation. Plus, I got all these stories:

One Monday morning, I found an empty energy drink can in my trash can. The clinic is open on the weekend, and sometimes my co-workers would come in too so I didn't think much of it. Just an empty can in my trash can. So I carried on with my day. If you know me, being observant is not one of my strong character traits (And if you really know me, you know that's a joke since I don't have ANY character traits). So, obviously, I'm not going to notice one of my co-workers glaring at me or maybe a tone in his voice that implies that he's mad with me. Later that day, another of my co-workers asked if I noticed, and of course I said, "no." Apparently someone had stolen one of his energy drinks from the refrigerator and, since the can was with my trash, he thought it was me. Except I hate energy drinks. Well, my other co-workers cleared up that mess and we eventually found the culprit ("I thought it was a community fridge," the doctor said... just kidding, he never apologized).

I never knew the importance of air-conditioning until I went to use the restroom at 3:00pm at our old office (Dammit Alan, another restroom story. what is wrong with you?). At the old office, the restroom was just 2 stalls (one with a broken door), a sink, and just a small window. At first, you're probably thinking "did that small window help to get rid of the smell?" and the answer would be a definite "no" but that's not the reason I bring up blessed A/C. The sun would actually shine right through that window for a couple hours every afternoon. Also, everyday, at about 2-2:30pm the janitor would mop the floors. The heated room combined with the mopped floors would essentially turn the restroom into a sauna. And, at about 3:00pm, I would usually take one last poop before hopping on the bus home. And so I'd sit on the toilet and literally feel the evaporation around me, on me. If I'd eaten anything for lunch that just didn't want to be there, well, when I finally got out, it looked more like I'd been sprinting a mile for the bus rather than just on my way across the street to catch the bus. Now that we've got A/C in the new office, not only does it help to filter out the smell, but my toilet-time has become much less stressful.

One fun thing I got to do was try to break the current scheduling system we are using. About a year or two after I started, the bosses decided we would start using a different online schedule provider (I think we're still working on developing our own). Anyways, when we got word that we were going to switch to it, we were told to test it out and see if you can find any faults with it (I interpreted it as "do what you want, see if you can break it"). I played with that thing way more than I should have, especially since back then I was still with the Processing Department and we rarely used the scheduling system. Most of my time was spent putting in Superheroes and Supervillains into the system, along with dumb case notes - my favorite being Clark Kent applying for a physical disability with a note that it is a possible fraud case (it made me laugh). I'm pretty sure they reset the system before we put it to use or else Bruce Wayne missed his psych evaluation, too.

I received a death threat/desperation letter in the mail once. I'm not sure if I ever told you, but I work for a company which assists the State of Hawaii in giving out welfare money. Well, if you're going to get the state money, you gotta follow state rules - whether it be seeing your doctor to check that thing on your foot or going to your psychotherapy evaluation once a week, you gotta go do it if you want the money to keep coming in. So, I guess this one client wasn't doing his treatment and, instead of submitting documentation that he was going to treatment, he decided to mail a six pages of hand-written folder paper, front and back, detailing his dire circumstances and blah, blah, blah I don't care (I've heard it all so no excuse surprises me anymore). Well, obviously this was reported and I think he's no longer allowed to be evaluated by our doctors anymore, safety reasons and all that. Unfortunately, due to HIPA compliance, I'm not allowed to share it here, but it was actually kinda interesting to read, like his thought process on why he shouldn't be cut-off and he quoted The Beatles for some reason. Now I have to go back and read it. Oh, did I mention that I kept it, the actual, physical letter. I'll probably have to throw it out when I leave, but, since I'm still with the company, I think I'm still allowed to have it, maybe.

Well, that's enough stories for now. Yeah, I've got other ones, some better, though not by much. Some I can't tell because of HIPA compliance (you should hear the names of some of these people), some involve my co-workers and I don't think they want to be named, or those stories told. A couple of them I'm saving for the Call Center stories post either later this month or else next month. Mostly that's all I want to type for now.

Changes

I had actually started writing this post three weeks ago, but I really wanted to post a good story before putting this one up. As you can see, I did get one story up, though I didn't really care for it (it's missing something). Unsatisfied, I did try to get something better written, which resulted in about 3 half-finished piles of trash, so I'm done with that. Instead of trying to write anything barely-passable and letting this sit also unfinished, I figure I'll just get this done and then move on after. Besides, it's already February. Anyways, another year done and the times have changed. I'm sure a lot has changed in your life over this past year, but, as with other blogs, let's talk about my life.

Let's start this with what inspired this post in the first place: I bought a bigger size of underwear the other day (edit: obviously not the other day, probably like the beginning of January). This really shouldn't have inspired an entire write-up, but here's the thing: I've been wearing the same size shirts, pants, socks, shoes, everything for probably over 10 years now. I would like to believe this is because I've kept myself in such great shape but even I'm not that delusional. No, the truth is that I've always dressed like a piece of shit and all of my clothes are/were probably a size too big (they're definitely at least half a size too big, but no one makes odd number sizes). So, it finally looks like I'm slowly growing sideways to fit the clothes I've been wearing like comfortable tents all these years. I now own at least one pair of shorts that I no longer need to wear a belt to keep from falling off my ass. I needed to get rid of one or two shirts recently because they didn't fit anymore rather than because they were falling apart as I normally would. It's not a good look, but maybe that will finally inspire me to get in shape, you know, like I plan to do every year.

Another change that's happened is that I transferred jobs. I'm still at the same company, just moved from my Processing job to the Call Center.

And now I've got a desk!

I know, everyone I've talked to has said basically the same thing, "Why the fuck would you do that?" Honestly, because I was asked (I've got a terrible history of doing work "because I was asked if I could"). I'm doing pretty well in the just over three months I've been at it, though I've already fucked up a couple of times. The phones keep me pretty busy for most of the day, 97% of those calls being the basic, everyday call. It's the other 3% that make the job interesting: the clients asking for their money; the State Workers who want to argue about rules. Plus I've made several "friends", problem clients who know me by name. Amazingly, I've only hung-up on two clients so far, which I think is pretty impressive. Don't worry, I'm keeping track of these interactions and I promise a post with Call Center stories eventually. I need the material after all. Besides the change in the job I'm doing, the next biggest change is Structure. Back at the Processing Department, I could come into work whenever I wanted, leave when I wanted, take breaks when I wanted. I mean, don't tell my boss, but at one point, I was taking a break almost every hour to go looking for Pokemon. With the Call Center, the phones open at 7:45am and they close at 4:30pm, so that dictates my work schedule. Plus there's only three of us so we need to stagger our lunch breaks so at least two people are still on the phones when one of us leaves. Also, as you can see from the picture, I now have a desk with actual drawers, as well as a file cabinet (not pictured). Still not sure what to fill them all with. So far I've just been throwing random papers and stuff into them, though it looks like I've already dedicated one drawer to bags of chips.

It's not like I'm going to go broadcasting it to the world, but about three months ago I went to my a high school reunion (it wasn't the high school I graduated from, but it was one I went to for two years) and I had my first cigarette in almost 3 years. I also drank way more than I should have and even threw-up when I got home that night. But yeah, my first cigarette in 3 years! as well as my second, third, possibly fourth, I don't remember. I would like the say it was my last, but that would be a lie. I've had several more since then, mostly I'm back to my "I only smoke when I drink" phase again. My throat and lungs do not appreciate it at all, if that makes you feel any better. I cough like I'm going to puke, but it's just so good. I've caught myself a couple times just staring at the cigarette in my hand. "How did I ever let you go?" I'll say, in my head, possibly aloud. I guess I should actively try to stop, but it's not like I'm going back to doing it full-time again, at least I haven't yet.

They were just staring at me as I was buying lunch

Oddly enough, it also appears my daydreams have changed too. Well, maybe it's not that strange. Usually they are dictated by whatever has my interests at the time. Back in high school it was baseball. When I get really immersed in a book, it becomes terrible fan-fiction. When I'm going on a trip, it becomes everything that could possibly happen (no matter how ridiculous) on the trip. Last year, though, I got really into writing which you probably saw through the almost weekly posts, at least for a while. But, like any addiction, there was more to it than just the things I make public, like the blog posts. I'm not that good of a writer so what you might have seen as just one post a week was actually several nights of work. I was also listening to writing workshop podcasts and interviews with authors either at work or in the car. So, more than likely, it was all of those things combined that drove my daydreams into creating fantasies in which I was actually a good writer, well, a famous writer. Yeah, even I know that at the current moment I can't do that (no patience for the longer stories). So, once again I plan to embark on another fruitless journey to getting some writing done. Plus I got a taste of fame from the newspaper article, and I got to say, it does feel really good.