I cannot believe that September is already half over.
And that fall is only a few days away.
Nor can I believe that I’ve only posted eight times this months.
Time flies when you’re caught in routines.
Everyday I get up at seven.
But now, rather than getting to work via bicycle, I catch a ride with my friend Andy to work. And just having someone who is in a relatively similar boat as I am—he’s only working to save up and quit his job again next month—helps alleviate the otherwise stressful disdain I hold for work and reminds me that I am not the only one who is going to work every morning. Not to mention that I no longer have to worry everyday whether or not my bike will go flat.
Every night I go to bed at midnight or thereabouts.
And now at the end of every work day, due to our unstable workday schedules that makes me getting a ride home too much of a pain, I catch a bus ride home. And suddenly my entire day is much more at ease. For one, because the busses I can take home only come once an hour, there is little difference between 4:45 and 5:15 (both will get me the same bus) and thus time becomes less of a pressing thing: there is nothing I can do to make the bus come earlier or make it get me home any faster.
But I have consciously allowed myself to be in this position of routine.
Also, with such waiting times looming, I come prepared with a book to read while both waiting as well as riding and so have managed to bring an otherwise neglected as of late hobby back into my daily routine.
If it is routine that I despise so much about the workday, is it at least possible to alleviate that routine so that it is, even within the strict pillars of my times of sleep, not so predominate?
Still, at the end of each day, I find myself not riding my bike as much. As well, other things that I had set out to do in returning to Buffalo, or just little things to mix my days up a bit, such as taking more bike rides through the neighborhoods or hanging out with my friends every night have gone largely neglected. Hell, I’ve even been drinking less on the weeknights.
Even giving our tired bodies is a routine. If not the basis of most of it.
I understand I get into ruts here and there. Quite routinely actually. And I understand that I will not be able to go completely without working at the time. Still, I have my eyes set on working until I am comfortably set with enough savings to do so.
Routine thinking is also very evident in my day-to-day routine.
The important thing is to be sure to break out of these ruts and routine ways of thinking as quickly as possible and, if not immediately, to make sure they still do not dominate my entire day. To make such breaks takes a constant conscious effort. Because I've failed to do so lately, it is once again my intention to make sure to do something everyday that, even if it is the minutest detail, does not subscribe to such routine that keeps me from doing nothing.
Less I find myself suddenly a year from now again wondering where the latest September went and awaiting the routine of yet another seasonal change with no change to show for it myself.
Tuesday, September 18, 2007
Shat Mat (The Nothing that We Do)
After another weekend of excessive drinking left me too hung over to even drink during the Bills game—and the Bills leaving me too sick to even watch the entire game—last night I was able to reap the benefits of all the people that were over the game by plundering the leftover beers they left behind.
And while doing so my roommate and I decided to play some chess.
Chess is like so many things that I really enjoy doing—drawing, playing music, playing sports, doing chicks, doing nothing—in that I just don’t do enough of it. And it always takes only a brief moment to remember how much I like these things as soon as I get to doing them again.
The thing that fascinates me so much about games is just how representative they can be of human intelligence and ingenuity. Chess alone, from what I’ve read, has more possible moves than there are believed to be atoms in the entire universe. One has to consider that games are mostly the result of people who were sitting around with nothing better to do and simply decided to create something out of doing nothing. (If you’ve never been a part of a creating a game that was maybe played for even only a day, then by all means your life is truly representational of doing nothing.)
And while ultimately, unless the feelings of competitiveness and enjoyment actually do count for something, they contribute nothing in what would be described as a meaningful way, especially in the arenas of making money or pointing your life in that all import direction, that is the very point of them: a natural expression of what we are capable when the burden of meaning or having to do something is lifted from us.
In my mind they are just as pointless as making money, only much more memorable and far more fun. And if that isn’t the purpose of our lives, it has at least be the purpose of our games.
If the two are in fact separate entities.
Check mate.
And while doing so my roommate and I decided to play some chess.
Chess is like so many things that I really enjoy doing—drawing, playing music, playing sports, doing chicks, doing nothing—in that I just don’t do enough of it. And it always takes only a brief moment to remember how much I like these things as soon as I get to doing them again.
The thing that fascinates me so much about games is just how representative they can be of human intelligence and ingenuity. Chess alone, from what I’ve read, has more possible moves than there are believed to be atoms in the entire universe. One has to consider that games are mostly the result of people who were sitting around with nothing better to do and simply decided to create something out of doing nothing. (If you’ve never been a part of a creating a game that was maybe played for even only a day, then by all means your life is truly representational of doing nothing.)
And while ultimately, unless the feelings of competitiveness and enjoyment actually do count for something, they contribute nothing in what would be described as a meaningful way, especially in the arenas of making money or pointing your life in that all import direction, that is the very point of them: a natural expression of what we are capable when the burden of meaning or having to do something is lifted from us.
In my mind they are just as pointless as making money, only much more memorable and far more fun. And if that isn’t the purpose of our lives, it has at least be the purpose of our games.
If the two are in fact separate entities.
Check mate.
Tuesday, September 11, 2007
A Short Open Letter: To the City of Buffalo
(Which leads me to this.)
Buffalo:
You know I love you—even if I don’t necessarily know why (see: obvious painful end to Bills’ game on Sunday)—which is probably why you don’t give a damn about these complaints. As such, they must be aired.
It’s bad enough that you’ve allowed the majority of both the people and jobs to move away to the suburbs—as opposed to having them all in one obvious place like downtown maybe—all but requiring a car due to the lack of any light rail system like most cities might have in the 21st century. And it’s bad enough that everyone here instinctively suggests that I should just get a car as the obvious solution to such travel demands. But if you had one person for every ten shards of glass in the streets, New York City would be the Queen City; if the streets weren’t lined with nails and potholes perhaps those jobs in the suburbs would seem a bit more accessible.
But they’re not and they won’t be any time soon. And so I get pissed off at you and how demanding you can be and the mindset of the people here—though I’m really enjoying getting to hear the accent again—even though I know I still love you.
But that doesn’t mean I will allow you to change me. I won’t change for anyone or anything no matter how much I love them. I gave up on the car for my own reasons and I will only take it back up for my own as well, if I ever do at all. But I can assure you that if I do it will not be for a job, and especially not one in the fucking suburbs.
So now I’m leaving it up to your Metro System. Maybe, even though the subway/light rail line doesn’t go all that far, perhaps the buses will make up for that. Holding my breath will be withheld, though I hope to be surprised.
Just be reliable long enough before I ultimately quit. Maybe a month or two. That’s it.
That shouldn’t be too much to ask and I hope it isn’t, not even here because I am glad to be back and hope to be here a while still. Should I need to leave for reasons as arbitrary as poor public transportation I will do so with no hard feelings but would do so still nevertheless.
So now it’s up to you. Thanks.
And, hopefully, thanks for the ride.
Buffalo:
You know I love you—even if I don’t necessarily know why (see: obvious painful end to Bills’ game on Sunday)—which is probably why you don’t give a damn about these complaints. As such, they must be aired.
It’s bad enough that you’ve allowed the majority of both the people and jobs to move away to the suburbs—as opposed to having them all in one obvious place like downtown maybe—all but requiring a car due to the lack of any light rail system like most cities might have in the 21st century. And it’s bad enough that everyone here instinctively suggests that I should just get a car as the obvious solution to such travel demands. But if you had one person for every ten shards of glass in the streets, New York City would be the Queen City; if the streets weren’t lined with nails and potholes perhaps those jobs in the suburbs would seem a bit more accessible.
But they’re not and they won’t be any time soon. And so I get pissed off at you and how demanding you can be and the mindset of the people here—though I’m really enjoying getting to hear the accent again—even though I know I still love you.
But that doesn’t mean I will allow you to change me. I won’t change for anyone or anything no matter how much I love them. I gave up on the car for my own reasons and I will only take it back up for my own as well, if I ever do at all. But I can assure you that if I do it will not be for a job, and especially not one in the fucking suburbs.
So now I’m leaving it up to your Metro System. Maybe, even though the subway/light rail line doesn’t go all that far, perhaps the buses will make up for that. Holding my breath will be withheld, though I hope to be surprised.
Just be reliable long enough before I ultimately quit. Maybe a month or two. That’s it.
That shouldn’t be too much to ask and I hope it isn’t, not even here because I am glad to be back and hope to be here a while still. Should I need to leave for reasons as arbitrary as poor public transportation I will do so with no hard feelings but would do so still nevertheless.
So now it’s up to you. Thanks.
And, hopefully, thanks for the ride.
Bend But Don't Break
Even though my stated goal to “work as little as possible” automatically suggests a certain amount of work will have to be performed, I nevertheless despise the time that must be dedicated to the act. Obviously. And my constant irritation over the last week was only amplified as I have slowly begun to feel as though I’ve been completely compromising myself in the way in which I have been working.
My spending for the month of August, though exactly on par as to what I said I would spend per month over the course of the year, still felt far too extravagant. There is no reason why I should be spending nearly $1000 a month—especially not on going out so much. Also, the willingness I’ve shown in spending the necessary time to travel the nine miles each way to the job—not even all that noticeably shorter by car—is equally excessive in its extravagance in my opinion. Combined with my savings being lower than where they should be—and thereby making me feel as though I had to keep working even though they are enough to get me by for at least the next month and a half—and, by last week, a mounting misery was accumulating.
And then, in the face of yet another flat tire on the way to work, I realized that, while I will bend my beliefs—and hopefully only temporarily—I will ultimately not allow them to be broken. As I have tried every which stubborn way to get to work on my bike with only frustrating success at best, I told the kid I’ve been working with that I will no longer be riding my bike to work and will instead rely only upon rides from friends and public transportation. If that will not work, I told him, then I will simply have to find something else closer to home. Even if that means less pay.
And from that came a soothing sense of relief. It may not quite be a teenage girl standing in front of an army tank, but it at least reminded me there’s only so much I’m willing to do in the course of working. Just as well, it reminded me to stop allowing my thoughts to be governed by arbitrary numbers that must continually accumulate and simply trust that I will be able to eat each day and, beyond that, nothing more need be considered necessary.
My spending for the month of August, though exactly on par as to what I said I would spend per month over the course of the year, still felt far too extravagant. There is no reason why I should be spending nearly $1000 a month—especially not on going out so much. Also, the willingness I’ve shown in spending the necessary time to travel the nine miles each way to the job—not even all that noticeably shorter by car—is equally excessive in its extravagance in my opinion. Combined with my savings being lower than where they should be—and thereby making me feel as though I had to keep working even though they are enough to get me by for at least the next month and a half—and, by last week, a mounting misery was accumulating.
And then, in the face of yet another flat tire on the way to work, I realized that, while I will bend my beliefs—and hopefully only temporarily—I will ultimately not allow them to be broken. As I have tried every which stubborn way to get to work on my bike with only frustrating success at best, I told the kid I’ve been working with that I will no longer be riding my bike to work and will instead rely only upon rides from friends and public transportation. If that will not work, I told him, then I will simply have to find something else closer to home. Even if that means less pay.
And from that came a soothing sense of relief. It may not quite be a teenage girl standing in front of an army tank, but it at least reminded me there’s only so much I’m willing to do in the course of working. Just as well, it reminded me to stop allowing my thoughts to be governed by arbitrary numbers that must continually accumulate and simply trust that I will be able to eat each day and, beyond that, nothing more need be considered necessary.
Friday, September 7, 2007
[aside] Ode to Friday Night, 6:00
It was just about 6:00 as I rode home from work today and I could notice an immediate buzz in the air: Friday! Who doesn’t love it? Who doesn’t notice it? I even began constructing an ode.
Ode to Friday Night, 6:00 (As Sung by One Who Is Employed)
Ode to Friday Night, 6:00
The furthest away from work all week
Everyone’s as happy as they get
The furthest away from work all week
That’s all I got. I don’t compose poesy (or “poetry,” for you post-Victorians) but I won’t argue the point it makes. Still, I did decide to compose one more:
Ode to Friday Night, 6:00 (As Sung by One Who Is Unemployed)
Ode to Friday Night, 6:00
I did not know it was you right now.
But I still sing my ode to you
For I always sing to the moment that is now.
That’s all I got. See above for the reason why.
Though it’s a great time either way, I think I like the second interpretation of Friday Night, 6:00 just a little better.
Ode to Friday Night, 6:00 (As Sung by One Who Is Employed)
Ode to Friday Night, 6:00
The furthest away from work all week
Everyone’s as happy as they get
The furthest away from work all week
That’s all I got. I don’t compose poesy (or “poetry,” for you post-Victorians) but I won’t argue the point it makes. Still, I did decide to compose one more:
Ode to Friday Night, 6:00 (As Sung by One Who Is Unemployed)
Ode to Friday Night, 6:00
I did not know it was you right now.
But I still sing my ode to you
For I always sing to the moment that is now.
That’s all I got. See above for the reason why.
Though it’s a great time either way, I think I like the second interpretation of Friday Night, 6:00 just a little better.
Wednesday, September 5, 2007
[aside] Thanks for Nothing Instead
While watching TV the other day I caught an election ad where the candidate was bragging about having brought jobs to the area.
Why the fuck am I going to vote for someone trying to give me work?
Why the fuck am I going to vote for someone trying to give me work?
Timecards and Timetables
As I have not been mentioning much here, I’ve spent the past month or so working full-time. As one may have noticed, in the same span of time I have also been posting less. It would be correct to assume a direct correlation.
With work now taking up nearly two thirds of my day between sleep and getting to and from work, by the time I get home there’s too much to do, and too little summer remaining, to be easily encouraged to sit in front of a computer.
But that hasn’t been the worst of work’s inconveniences.
The worst offense of them all has how work immediately influences me to begin setting timetables in my head: ranging from 9am’s countdown to 5pm and Monday’s inevitable countdown to Friday, to mentally calculating when I will have enough money to quit if I wanted or how soon I would be able to have enough to pay rent and do some traveling, I constantly find myself mentally drifting away from the moment at hand.
And while it is these very carrots that I hang over my head—such as quitting or traveling—that get me through each work day, it is also the very thing that distracts me from fully enjoying the moment in front of me.
During the three months I wasn’t working I was laid back about both time and money—for I had all the time I needed despite the dwindling funds of money. But now that I have some money, though by no means all the time that I need, I not only spend that money, but also set different standards in regards to it. Whereas $20 was what I was spending for a full week’s worth of food, that is now a Friday night out—and probably a cheap one at that. Whereas I previously looked forward no further than tomorrow, I am already counting the pay before it comes and seeing a small amount begin to be saved. Even though by the standards I was holding without a job I would, at the moment, have enough money to pay October’s rent and bills and still eat—meaning I would be set all the way through November 1st already—I am also figuring how long I would have to work in order to not have to work at a later point.
Unnecessary timetables. And until I can overcome this and instinctively be able to still enjoy moments at hand, even perhaps during work, I will look to pack as much fun in the free time that I have and post whenever possible.
Or just as well, quit as soon as possible.
With work now taking up nearly two thirds of my day between sleep and getting to and from work, by the time I get home there’s too much to do, and too little summer remaining, to be easily encouraged to sit in front of a computer.
But that hasn’t been the worst of work’s inconveniences.
The worst offense of them all has how work immediately influences me to begin setting timetables in my head: ranging from 9am’s countdown to 5pm and Monday’s inevitable countdown to Friday, to mentally calculating when I will have enough money to quit if I wanted or how soon I would be able to have enough to pay rent and do some traveling, I constantly find myself mentally drifting away from the moment at hand.
And while it is these very carrots that I hang over my head—such as quitting or traveling—that get me through each work day, it is also the very thing that distracts me from fully enjoying the moment in front of me.
During the three months I wasn’t working I was laid back about both time and money—for I had all the time I needed despite the dwindling funds of money. But now that I have some money, though by no means all the time that I need, I not only spend that money, but also set different standards in regards to it. Whereas $20 was what I was spending for a full week’s worth of food, that is now a Friday night out—and probably a cheap one at that. Whereas I previously looked forward no further than tomorrow, I am already counting the pay before it comes and seeing a small amount begin to be saved. Even though by the standards I was holding without a job I would, at the moment, have enough money to pay October’s rent and bills and still eat—meaning I would be set all the way through November 1st already—I am also figuring how long I would have to work in order to not have to work at a later point.
Unnecessary timetables. And until I can overcome this and instinctively be able to still enjoy moments at hand, even perhaps during work, I will look to pack as much fun in the free time that I have and post whenever possible.
Or just as well, quit as soon as possible.
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