floorpie

There’s a dollar in my wallet (that’s true on so many levels… well, two levels) that looks like so:

See where I’ve been
Track where I go next
www.WheresGeorge.com

Which I think is a pretty cool idea… especially as it depends entirely upon me even noticing or being interested in the defacement of my currency. In going to this site, I found that it was last seen in Jamestown, North Dakota, some 105 days ago, and had traveled 1,362 miles at a rate of 13 miles per day. Not bad for no legs.

Of course, the success of this site depends upon people being conscientious about entering in all of their money (luckily I have very little), but it was interesting nonetheless.

No matter how depressed you are, how sad, how destroyed, how distraught, there will always be an 11:30 P.M. showing of The Breakfast Club to shine just a ray of light on your otherwise darkened soul.

Happy 4th of July

And what’s more American (unfortunately) than Jerry Springer? So answer me this: when the transvestite starts fighting with her baby’s momma why does the audience always chant, “Jer-ry!, Jer-ry!, Jer-ry!”? It seems to me that he doesn’t have anything to do with it.

The Sounds of Living

My little habitat here in SoCal is interesting. I live in a “4-plex” that faces another “4-plex”; thereby creating a courtyard betwixt the two and transforming it into a Mega-8-Plex-Courtyarded-Extravaganza. Good times.
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One great thing about this is that for really the first time of any of the many places I’ve lived, I’m getting to know my neighbors; which is a strange and pleasing sensation, especially as they seem to be very cool… though quirky, which is the point. There are many sounds here, especially in the morning, that in some ways are inexplicable and engaging, and in others are somewhat irritating, though not maddening so. Some of these sounds are:

.: my neighbor’s girlfriend (I think), walking about in the morning over their hardwood floors in what I can only guess are 17-inch concrete platform shoes. OK, to be fair it’s not that bad… they’re probably only 15-inch
.: The loud and fascinating chanting sounds coming from my neighbor across the courtyard. There are friends of him involved. And bells. This can go on for at least an hour, sometimes multiple times a day. It’s not annoying, actually, and is instead rather tranquil.
.: This one has double offenders: alarms:
– The person at the end of my 4-plex leaves his front door open and his alarm blaring that very anti-sleep scree-scree-scree-scree for at least 30-45 minutes. On several occasions, I have thought he must dead. I have yet to figure out the true situation
– From an unknown source, another person leaves his/her alarm on for a similar length of time. This one is at least only a slight boop-boop-boop-boop. This has only recently started, so I’m thinking the person may have left for vacation without turning off their alarm.
.: trumpeting

Annnnd scene…

Let the migration begin. I am slowly, ever so slowly, reading, configuring, considering, implementing a migration over to MT. Why?

I. Don’t. Know.

I didn’t get the job. And for those of you not interested in clicking to the archived post, the salient sentences were these:

So the interview went well, I think; and, I in fact have a second interview at another company tomorrow. Could this be the end of our unemployed hero?

To which the answer is a resounding: NO. Despite the fact that I was given the impression that an offer was imminent, they apparently thought the better of it in the two weeks since then.

I know this will sound incredibly self-serving (though I suppose that this is my blog), and that I, almost without exception, never really say anything personal on here, but: I’m very depressed. I feel like no one wants me, that I’m not talented enough, and that I can’t get a job, any job, no matter how hard I try. I don’t even know of anyone who has been out of work as long as I have anymore. Suddenly, I’m the worst-case scenario that people that know me can use as an example at parties.

“Oh, you think that’s bad? I know this guy that’s been unemployed for over a year and a half! I don’t know, he just can’t seem to find a job.”

I’m not exactly sure what it is I’m being punished for, though to be honest I’m fairly sure that God has the wrong guy. I’m nice to people, considerate, helpful, and all the other parts of the Boy Scout Law. People tell me not to take it personally, but how can I not? They are, after all, rejecting me.

But I digress: punished by God. Has the wrong guy. Right.

I’m pretty sure He means to be throwing plagues at one of my many mistaken identities: David Cleanman, David Kilman, David Clemen, John Kleeman… or perhaps even Panelo Jack.

PS And don’t you dare say, ‘Well at least he still has his sense of humor’. Save it… send money instead.

Last night, I had a brush with greatness and went to dinner with Ariel and Andreas…

[yadda, yadda, yadda]

… and ADG ended up walking away with one of Ariel’s hoops to borrow. She and I are is more than a little excited. Truth be told, I began my steps to hooping greatness in front of our place a bit, while ADG looked on sadly. I don’t intend to reveal my skills to Ariel until I’m proficient in at least one trick (whereby “trick” I may end up meaning: “make hoop go around a few times”)

NOTE: Martini olives are not… just NOT a snack.

A lot about trying to find work is waiting. All of the Career Books™ say to treat your job search just like any other full-time job, but that’s just ridiculous drivel written by people that obviously have full time jobs. The only Career Books™ that I want to read would be written by similarly unemployed flotsam, languishing about writing random chapters during Oprah commercial breaks. Hmmm, that gives me an idea; but I digress…

A lot about trying to find work is waiting; and, if you’re like me, obsessively checking your e-mail. Where, by “obsessively”, I literally mean hitting the send/receive button over and over again:

.: Going to grab a snack? Two clicks.
.: Bathroom break? Better make that four rapid clicks
.: Watching an I Love Lucy rerun? One click per commercial break, and five clicks during that slow scene you’ve seen a dozen times.
.: Writing this post? 15-20 clicks

If someone could refer me to a program that somehow records the number of times per day you check your e-mail, that would be… well that would be pathetic, actually; but that would be great.

Hmmm…