So, I work at Lowe's now. Which isn't bad. Good, actually, on most days. I sell people a lot of wood and concrete and sheetrock. And roofing.
It gets kind of lame sometimes. But, it's work, so that is to be expected.
The music situation at Lowe's is pretty weird. Far more Gwen Stafani than you would expect outside of a Japanese sweatshop. That's a generalization, since I don't even know if they like Gwen Stafani over there. Perhaps I should give them more credit. But, you know, "Harajuku girls". They also play a lot of weird 80's stuff.
There's this song I really like. And it comes onto the radio every once in a while. It's the "Girl, put yo records oooon, tell me your favorite soooong" one. I like it a lot. And it's not available on iTunes. So. That sucks.
The quality of people who work at Lowe's isn't very high. Mostly they're not very good people. Some are just like, crap human beings. Others just get drunk all the time and have sex with as many people as possible, but are still, like, "nice". Which I think counts for a lot. I mean, someone who never grew up knowing that stuff like that maybe isn't the best idea, can't really be expected to know. But they can still do the best they can with what they have. Other people just like, thrive on making trouble for other people and causing pain and making fun of people.
We just hired like 40 Serbians yesterday. One who works near my department is pretty cool. He's a dude, but there's a lot of women, who are cute and European and have awesome accents. I mentioned it to this guy and he was like, "yeah, I was actually surprised." But, he said he thinks that they are "free". I don't know if that means they're single, or just excessively promiscuous. Or both. They are Europeans I suppose.
It's funny how certain stereotypes are true. I dated a European girl for a while back in high school, and I've hung out with this guy a decent amount. Neither of them smelled very good. I mean, he smells worse, because he's a boy, and works at Lowe's. But with Anne I'd be like, hanging out with her, and I'd just be like, "This... is not pleasant." Then again, I had no such experience with the German girls I knew. So maybe it's on a country-by-country basis.
I'm like, semi-dating this girl. We don't really know what to call it. Due to the mish, and other circumstances, we don't really want to be like, "bam, 'dating'". That was excessive punctuation. But, yeah, we don't really have a good word for it. In the beginning we were still calling it a 'friendship', which was just not appropriate at all. So we looked up some synonyms. The one we've settled on is "like-minded". We are in a state of like-mindedness. Which basically means that we really really really really like each other. Which is good. Good indeed.
I really like her. Dunno if I got that one across.
That song is stuck in my head now, the one that's not on iTunes. I think they have some like Kidz Bop or other cover version on there. Not the same. I remember one time I bought a Kidz Bop CD, because I didn't really understand the concept behind it. I was like, "Oh, these are all really good songs, I'm glad that they collected them onto one CD for kidz like me." And then I played it and it was like, "Oh, these are actually sung by kidz, not the people who actually know how to sing them." It was like, taking something good, and then just making it suck. And selling it. To kidz.
In case you didn't notice, at's 4 in the morning. 3:50. I worked a 15 hour shift Wednesday night, then came home and slept for 2 hours, then went back for another 8 hour shift. Since I was then so tired, I thought, "I won't take a sleeping pill, because I'm just naturally exhausted and will probably sleep for more than 8 hours anyways." Unfortunately, it doesn't work like that. Because my need for sleep has no correlation to my ability to partake of it. So here I am, in the early hours.
I haven't written anything lately. It's funny, if someone like really pressed me hard enough to ask "what I do", I'd probably say that I was a writer. But, I'm not, really, since I don't write, ever. I'm a thinker. Which is alright, I guess. I often have good ideas for stuff, which I type into a 'note' on my iPhone, and then forget about. I'll post a couple here, though they will probably make no sense.
No, never mind. Just went and looked at them. They're dumb.
I'm rambling, a bit. Mayhaps I should try to get some more sleep. I have today off, though. My not-girlfriend can't go on an awesome hike with me anymore, so I think my dad wants me to hang out with him. Since my mom is in Utah, we've been a couple of lame bachelor's. And I worked nights every day this week, so I just realized he's probably just come home and watched NCIS and ate honey bunches of oats by himself like a sad panda. Me and my dad are a lot alike. But who knows, maybe he just like, made a ton of crazy-big business deals instead. In which case, we would be less alike. But I bet it was NCIS. The point is, I should probably hang out with him, because he's probably a lonely panda. Man. you can pretty much put "panda" after any word and it becomes hilarious.
"You look like a tired panda today."
"I ate like a hungry panda."
"You're like a boy-panda, that likes other boy pandas. A gay panda."
Oh man. I'm done.
May 27, 2011
May 10, 2011
Updates
So. Here's the gist of it.
I work at Lowe's now. In the lumber/building materials department. It's alright. I basically just help people find the wood or sheetrock or roofing or concrete that they want. Then I help them load it on their cart, and then I help them put it in their truck. And when things get low, we 'downstock' and bring the stuff that's way up top, or out in the yard, and put it in the 'retail space' where people can actually buy it. That's pretty much my job, right there. Sometimes I cut wood for people, on our ginormo saw in the back.
Like I said. It's alright.
I put in my mission papers this week, so that's cool. In a couple of weeks I should get my call. Woo.
I started reading this really good book. Life of Pi. But, I kind of suck at reading, so I stopped. Shame.
I ate a lot of froot loops this week.
I've run out of updates, which is really depressing. But that's my life. Lowe's, froot loops, not reading Life of Pi.
Shame.
I work at Lowe's now. In the lumber/building materials department. It's alright. I basically just help people find the wood or sheetrock or roofing or concrete that they want. Then I help them load it on their cart, and then I help them put it in their truck. And when things get low, we 'downstock' and bring the stuff that's way up top, or out in the yard, and put it in the 'retail space' where people can actually buy it. That's pretty much my job, right there. Sometimes I cut wood for people, on our ginormo saw in the back.
Like I said. It's alright.
I put in my mission papers this week, so that's cool. In a couple of weeks I should get my call. Woo.
I started reading this really good book. Life of Pi. But, I kind of suck at reading, so I stopped. Shame.
I ate a lot of froot loops this week.
I've run out of updates, which is really depressing. But that's my life. Lowe's, froot loops, not reading Life of Pi.
Shame.
April 24, 2011
April 23, 2011
Midnight musings
It's strange that I sometimes embrace my depression, that I would sometimes rather wallow than climb out of the pit.
I was thinking about some things the last couple of hours that really sunk me down. Not to tears, but to a lot of regrets and sadness and, to a certain extent, helplessness. I finally forced myself to close my email and stop staring at ancient history, and I got ready for bed with a pretty troubled mind. As I knelt and prayed, though, it was interesting what I asked for. I didn't ask for Heavenly Father to take away my sadness, or help me stop thinking about these things. I just asked for things to be better in the morning. I knew that I wanted to lay down in bed and think about this stuff, I wanted to allow my depression to seep in a little deeper before I cast it out. This certainly isn't the ideal way, but I suppose there must be something cathartic in letting yourself work things out in your mind as you fall asleep. Maybe it's just a way of closing the book. When sleep rolls in, the problems roll out, ne'er to be heard from again. Who knows.
On another note, I had a very interesting experience with the scriptures yesterday. One particular chapter that struck me unlike almost anything I've ever read. The Lord just said, "Yeah, this is for you. Really. Listen up." It was an answer to some prayers that I've had for a long time, and also some words of counsel and chastening that perhaps I didn't know I needed. Either way, it was a marvelous experience to have the spirit witness so plainly that these words were what the Lord needed to say to me right here and now. People say they'd do stuff if Christ or an angel came down and showed them a sign, or gave them instructions. But frankly, I can't find much difference. If you're in tune with the spirit, it speaks just as clearly and powerfully as any thundering from Sinai.
Legit, as they say. Real legit.
I was thinking about some things the last couple of hours that really sunk me down. Not to tears, but to a lot of regrets and sadness and, to a certain extent, helplessness. I finally forced myself to close my email and stop staring at ancient history, and I got ready for bed with a pretty troubled mind. As I knelt and prayed, though, it was interesting what I asked for. I didn't ask for Heavenly Father to take away my sadness, or help me stop thinking about these things. I just asked for things to be better in the morning. I knew that I wanted to lay down in bed and think about this stuff, I wanted to allow my depression to seep in a little deeper before I cast it out. This certainly isn't the ideal way, but I suppose there must be something cathartic in letting yourself work things out in your mind as you fall asleep. Maybe it's just a way of closing the book. When sleep rolls in, the problems roll out, ne'er to be heard from again. Who knows.
On another note, I had a very interesting experience with the scriptures yesterday. One particular chapter that struck me unlike almost anything I've ever read. The Lord just said, "Yeah, this is for you. Really. Listen up." It was an answer to some prayers that I've had for a long time, and also some words of counsel and chastening that perhaps I didn't know I needed. Either way, it was a marvelous experience to have the spirit witness so plainly that these words were what the Lord needed to say to me right here and now. People say they'd do stuff if Christ or an angel came down and showed them a sign, or gave them instructions. But frankly, I can't find much difference. If you're in tune with the spirit, it speaks just as clearly and powerfully as any thundering from Sinai.
Legit, as they say. Real legit.
April 7, 2011
March 26, 2011
Meg
A terrible thing happened to a friend of mine yesterday. And it reminded me of someone that I, sadly, have not thought about in a while.
Megan Anne Brandon was a friend of mine, though not for a really long period of time. We knew each other in middle school, and were pretty good friends for the first few months of my freshman year. Then, in November, she shot herself.
It's tragic, you know? She was 14. The sweetest girl you could ever meet. I understand, mostly, why she did it. But even right now, it just fills me with grief.
I've been thinking, this morning, about where she is now, and what her future is. Considering the circumstances of her death, and the events leading up to it, traditional Christian theology would probably say she's damned. That infuriates me. The God that just damns people willy-nilly just doesn't jive with the reality of a loving Heavenly Father. That's the same kind of God who says, "Oh, I'm sorry, you lived in India and you never got baptized? Tough luck." Or says the same to infants who die without baptism. It's just like, really? Who do you think God is?
When you think about it, when you know who God is and what he wants, that just doesn't make sense. If he's really our Father in Heaven, literally, if he is the father of our spirits, he wants as many people to return to him as possible. He sent us here, he wants all of us back. He would have to be about the worse plan-maker ever to send billions of his children here with absolutely zero chance of ever returning. That's not just foolish, it's cruel.
So I'm grateful to know that that's not the case. I'm grateful to know the truth; to know what's what and who's who and how it all fits together.
As for Meg? I don't usually romanticize God or Christ. I usually think of them in a manly sort of way, lots of respect, gratitude. Love, but not in a soppy, emotional sort of way. In this case, though, I'm confident that Christ met Meg those years ago. I think she cried on His shoulder. I think He comforted her. And I know without a doubt that I will see her again.
And that's worth something.
Megan Anne Brandon was a friend of mine, though not for a really long period of time. We knew each other in middle school, and were pretty good friends for the first few months of my freshman year. Then, in November, she shot herself.
It's tragic, you know? She was 14. The sweetest girl you could ever meet. I understand, mostly, why she did it. But even right now, it just fills me with grief.
I've been thinking, this morning, about where she is now, and what her future is. Considering the circumstances of her death, and the events leading up to it, traditional Christian theology would probably say she's damned. That infuriates me. The God that just damns people willy-nilly just doesn't jive with the reality of a loving Heavenly Father. That's the same kind of God who says, "Oh, I'm sorry, you lived in India and you never got baptized? Tough luck." Or says the same to infants who die without baptism. It's just like, really? Who do you think God is?
When you think about it, when you know who God is and what he wants, that just doesn't make sense. If he's really our Father in Heaven, literally, if he is the father of our spirits, he wants as many people to return to him as possible. He sent us here, he wants all of us back. He would have to be about the worse plan-maker ever to send billions of his children here with absolutely zero chance of ever returning. That's not just foolish, it's cruel.
So I'm grateful to know that that's not the case. I'm grateful to know the truth; to know what's what and who's who and how it all fits together.
As for Meg? I don't usually romanticize God or Christ. I usually think of them in a manly sort of way, lots of respect, gratitude. Love, but not in a soppy, emotional sort of way. In this case, though, I'm confident that Christ met Meg those years ago. I think she cried on His shoulder. I think He comforted her. And I know without a doubt that I will see her again.
And that's worth something.
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