Maintaining, Or, ‘Blah’

I spent the day off cleaning up my house. I would have liked to piss away the hours on more non-productive things but there were too many signs that it was time to go to work. I couldn’t find a clean spoon, had to really smash the garbage down to throw anything away and I was tired of stepping over dirty clothes on the floor. In my natural fashion, I made an obsessive marathon of it and didn’t stop until after dark.

There was another apprehension at work, only the guy pushed some of us around and fled with a Kindle down his pants. I got a clear shot of his plate and the police put a warrant out for his arrest.

At one point an employee from computers, high on the buzz from having helped get someone, ran up to me and I expected a high-five. Instead he put his hand out so I grabbed it. He squeezed my fingers.  That moment meant a lot to me.

The seeds I’m sowing are slow to grow, but are growing. Every few days I sit in an old computer chair under the basement stairs and rotate little cups. I spray water onto soil when it’s dry and look at each type of seedling to see how it has changed and what it wants. Soil, oxygen, moisture, light – it’s a tricky game and hard to believe that I can get the sort of end result that I want. But I feel like, if I can take tiny seeds and turn them into flowering plants that are going to thrive outside my home this year then I will be one awesome mother fucker.


8 responses to “Maintaining, Or, ‘Blah’

    • Love, loved, loved the zombies and found it inspiring – I just have limited time to write. Perhaps on tomorrow’s day off.

      Sorry to hear about the rain. Q: If April showers bring May flowers, then what do may flowers bring?

      A: pilgrims!

  1. Try not to feel like too much a freak for walking that thin line. Inexplicably, I suffer the same. Yesterday = optimism, today = despondence. I couldn’t even tell you why…

  2. Whenever you post stories about work like this one, I’m reminded of a conversation that I had with my mother almost a decade ago.

    Back in undergrad, I used to be the managing editor of the campus newspaper. We were a pretty little newspaper, but we didn’t have very much by way of content. Small university towns are like that. After I’d been the manager for a couple of months, in the middle of the summer, when literally nothing was happening, I got bored, and started going through the newspaper’s financial records. Or lack thereof. Then I called the former business manager, or tried to. Then I went to the bank, to look into copies of our statements, and balances, and such.

    The newspaper was insolvent. To make a long story short, the former business manager had been writing himself cheques for the prior year – over $20,000CAD in total. I was shocked and confused. Someone had just pillaged my newspaper.

    I called my mother. Not because I expected her to say anything reassuring (I didn’t), but because I wanted advice. Mom is a (now retired) commercial fraud investigator for one of the biggest banks in North America.

    Mom’s reaction was a bit surprising, but made perfect sense: “Why would anyone steal such a small amount?!”

    At the bank, there’s a phrase that people quietly use: “Running away money.” It’s the amount of money that an employee would have to steal in order to be willing to give up their entire life forever. It’s the size of a theft that’s worth morals, and comfort, and familiarity, and a clean criminal record. $20,000 is not running away money.

    Neither is a car stereo, or a pair of headphones. People don’t make any sense to me.

    Also, I think there are more of us out there, walking that thin line than is immediately evident. But you probably already know that.

    • I try to keep in mind that some people’s $1 is actually $10 or $100. So when they want to steal headphones that were $299, it’s like stealing over $3000 in such a way, they believe, that will be victimless and they will not get caught.

      It’s not robbing a bank, it’s not a gun-point make or break sort of thing – so why NOT?

      There are situations out there, with enough people sharing the same belief that, if you have a pair of them’ Dre Beats, man, you’re the shit. Granted that says some poor things of the group/age/community/rearing/etc, but it’s none the less true.

      It’s habitual, it’s a shitty way of getting by. Think resale. Drugs. Think, to an impressionable person, something small like that can make you cool or current. Imagine if you had a tape deck in your car and am empty apartment with a hole in the wall – imagine having nothing because you just don’t have three hundred bucks. Ever.

      Not that every thief has a crappy life. Some shoplifters can afford what they want to steal. They have their own beliefs and a lot of them are douchebags who reject the order of things and go, “no, fuck that, I’m not giving you a dime for this/this is so mine now. I’m smart and you’re not. I deserve this.”

      All kinds, all reasons, theories, lack of theory. Give someone an open opportunity, whether you’ve named their price or not, and even a generally good person might make a bad decision.

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