The thread of not enough time I'll think of something some other time

Not a lot of time to say things, and not a lot of things to say. Today was my last day at DQ. Everyone was saying goodbye, I'll see you at Wal-Mart. It was probably very emotional, but it's hard to tell with these things these days.

It was a slow day. Painfully slow, even the rushes.

But I don't have much time. I have to be to work at now my only job in a little under an hour, and it takes half of that to get there.


Besides, there's not a lot to say. No update on her. But I'm really beginning to wonder how well I can trust her, which is silly, because of course I shouldn't trust her after everything that's happened.

The real problem is that I'm also beginning to wonder if I can trust anybody. And not just because of what's going on with her; it seems every one of my so-called friends are having second thoughts about this friendship thing. It's strange, and weirdly timed.

Too weird. Maybe there's something funny going on.

Haha, as if. Time to roll into work. More on this tomorrow, maybe.

The thread of crafting, and not a lot else

One of the interesting perks of my new gig at Wal-Mart is that I get to hear random people talk about random things. Now, to you, and probably to most other people, this would undoubtedly not be a perk of any kind. But most other people aren't writers who love taking a simple premise and twisting it into a neat little story.

Any throwaway sentence can be turned into the crux of an epic adventure – if you know how to flesh out the ideas. On my walk out from the day's shift, I saw a man and two little boys, around 5-7 or so. As I walked and nearly passed them, I heard the man say, “now be good, or I won't let you shoot your brother.”

To any normal person, this is a pretty wut-class sentence, but to someone like me, this is a look into the lives and relationships of a man and his sons. Clearly the two brothers were often taken to shooting rubber bands at each other for fun, and their father learned a short while ago that he could use this to his advantage.

Essentially, he had learned to use violence to teach well-behavedness. Which is totally rad, but that's a straw-man of the situation. The violence in question was simply faux violence, a game the brothers loved. They were only allowed to play if they were good. It was referred to as 'shooting your brother,' because the boys are so young, that's just simply what they called it despite the man's attempts to rebrand it to something sounding a little less savage.

The apparent normalcy of the phrase 'shooting your brother,' also portrays the time lapse of which this little family unit has played this game. It's been a few months, more than likely, but only a few, else the name would have changed.

Of course, all of these details are true in the fictional world in my head, but possibly none of them are real in the, well, real world. I just inferred, imagined, and pretended what could be from a scenario I happened to witness. It's a particular writer's trick that I happen to love, and it's the trick that led to the creation of my current novel, a science fiction epic currently spanning 136 pages across no more than three days, but with a plot harkening back to as many as 6 years into the past. It's based on me and my ex, and some of my friends, and not a lot else.

But it's great, and I love it.

Now, yesterday I know I said that I'd continue on with the thread of the girl from the phone, but there's really nothing to say. Apart from a brief conversation with someone who also knows her, she's been vacant from my thoughts.

And that's a thing. A damn good thing. I think.

With that said, it's time to find some rad thing to do, such as aquisitionitize some foods for my stomach.

Hey, that's totally a word. You're just refudiating too much.

The threads of currency, rewinding, and the hook of things to come

She's on the phone with me. This girl I like. Liked. Well, if you want to go past tense about things, loved. Maybe, I'm trying to figure that one out. But I'm on the phone with this girl that I have some sort of feelings for, the same girl that did some pretty cagey things on a so called trip to see me. And that's very much a thing.

Another thing, another very big thing, is that she's now dating a guy she apparently loves. That's definitely a thing that sucks. A lot. So yeah, here I am, on my bed, talking to a girl that knows I have feelings for her, and knows that I know that she doesn't and won't reciprocate said feelings.

That was a sweet sentence.

But life, sadly, isn't directed by the sweetness of the last sentence that you wrote. A shame, but that's life. It's hard to say what life is directed by, to be honest. As far as I can tell lately, it's guided by how I feel about what people feel about me. Something like that. Lately, one specific person, who I'm on the phone with, and who I can and never could make heads or tales about what she thinks, despite what she says and what I claim to think.

I'm sticking by that one, no matter the grammatical correctness of it.

Honestly though, I wish I could believe the things she tells me, good and bad, because then at least there would be a little bit of consistency to the thing. But the girl is so... So baffling. On a lot of levels. She's kind of annoying sometimes, she can never make up her mind, she's needy, but complains when you help her. She jerks me and other guys around, intentionally or not. She's probably reading this, and before she get's mad she'll hopefully make it to the next paragraph.

But something about her is different. Something about her is mad appealing. But it's that same thing that's gotten me hurt twice before, one before the summer and one just this week. And yet, it's that thing that keeps me coming back, keeps me wanting her in my life.

Yeah, I'm a bit of a mess.

I'm a lot of things though, and here's the part where I do some sort of potentially vapid introduction thing. I'm 20 year old who loves to write, loves to drum, loves to pretend he can sing and play guitar, loves to writes and listen to music that a lot of people don't like. I like to love. Love to love. That's another thing I'm still working on.

And I'm also a good worker. Dependable, I'm the kind of guy that works minimum wage, but will do more than the managers making not a lot more I recently found out. I was going to be one, but I turned it down. Could have and in a few days will be making more money stocking up the meat section at my local (read: thirty minutes away) Wal-mart. So I'm probably also some sort of corporatist bastard, but these things happen.

Until then, and for two more days, I'm the cook at my local (slightly closer) Dairy Queen. When I say the cook, I'm not the only one, but I'm the only one that's worth my weight in salt for fries. That sort of makes sense.

Naturally, there's a lot more to me than what meets the black pixels over white pixels forming words about some random internet person and/or facebook friend you probably don't know very much. But this is starting to get long winded. I'll get more in depth about myself, my current lady-related issue, and where this blog thing is going to go. I've got plans, baby, big plans that will take story telling by storm.

Until tomorrow, or until the next time I write,

The Potentially Auspicious Writer