Yeah, probably.

When I was a kid, I used to take my Gerbil, Nibbles, and put him into all manner of probably-uncomfortable-for-a-Gerbil situations that were some ridiculous attempt to vicariously do things that I, as a human, could never do. For example, I would put him in my plastic Ferrari, tape the windows shut, and ramp the Ferrari off of a cardboard box. I always thought it would be fun, so of course, my Gerbil should. Right?

I had a relatively large plastic C-130 cargo plane that was large enough to fit Bucket 'o Soldier sized army tanks and soldiers into, meaning this thing was roughly three feet long, and had a 'cargo bay' you could fit a kids arm in easily. Once again, I'd place my Gerbil inside, and fly him around the house, occasionally getting shot down, and coming to rest (rather violently) on the kitchen floor.

Of all the things I did, I'm sure there is one thing that really made the Gerbil the most upset. One day, for some reason or another, I found that if you take a Gerbil, place him in the center of a pillow, you can then fold the pillow in half, with the Gerbil stuck snugly in the center, then very quickly pull the pillow edges apart, leveling out the pillow, and sending little Nibbles high into the air. As a child, it never occurred to me that for a human, this may be fun, but for a small little animal with a heart rate that can top 450 beats per minute, this is freaking homicidal.

Imagine with me for a moment. You're a Gerbil. A baby Gerbil. No cares, no worries except making sure that you get yourself fed. At some point, some giant in a blue shirt with a square piece of plastic bearing the name "Jennifer" grabs you out of the cage, taking you away from your brothers and sisters, and most especially, your mom. Traumatic event 1. Now, you are transported in a small cage, bumped, poked, prodded, and touched by these giant giggling fanatics who act like they've never seen a small living creature with fur. Traumatic event 2. Now, one of these idiotic, most-irritating fools pulls you out of your cage, but lulls you into a false sense of security by placing you on a nice, soft bedding. Suddenly, the edges of the bedding close in on you. I'm sure, to a Gerbil, this alone seems very alarming. The darkness surrounds you, and you realize, you are stuck. There's no getting out. There's no way...
The edges open up, the sky brightens, you can see the light, and then you feel about 4 G forces (Gerbil forces) of acceleration upwards, and end up smacking the ceiling. Traumatic event final.

Ok, now substitute traumatic event 1, 2, and final with things that have happened this week, and you are now somewhat more educated as to how my life feels.

Whelk in a Supernova

Shift_Life

It's a bit of poetic irony that I drive a Nissan these days. Not to mention, one that doesn't warm up. I find it hilarious, in my own, slightly torqued, strangely comfortable mindset. I find myself writing these things simply because I can, and simply for my own memories, later down the road.

One of my favorite, most complex, feelings is the one you get when a major storm has just passed. In the paraphrased words of Terry Pratchett, you see that everything is fresh and new, yet you still have the feeling of a tremendous amount of energy that has just been spent nearby. It's that feeling you get when you walk outside, and you see bits of wood strewn about, huge hailstones on the ground, smashed windows, large amounts of rainwater gushing their way industriously down the curb to the nearest drain, and you turn around and see the deep gray-blue sky, and even the rainshafts, which appear to be no more than a hundred yards away from you, and yet, there is sunshine. Sunshine streaming through the clouds, illuminating the leaves which have been forcefully exiled from their native trees, playing with the wind which was only moments ago tearing through the area without mercy.

I love storms, and it's a sad feeling that the storm is over. I love hearing the wind and rain pounding on the house, stressing the foundation, making the blood run nervously through the veins while your hair stands up in anxiety (or merely from the static charge of nearby lightning). I love watching a gust front move in, when you see the clouds coming in and you get the feeling that you're sure that man in Independence Day got when he was on the White House lawn when the aliens shot the big fireball explosion thing; the feeling that you're about to get hit with something that's much bigger than you; something that doesn't care about you, and something that sees you as merely a speck of dust. I love that feeling.

When it's all over, and the storm has passed, I love the feeling of a 'new beginning', which sounds horribly poetically cliche (which it really is), but the idea still stands (in my estimation, things only become cliche because they are true, and so many people agree). So, when you walk out of the house, and see the mess, and see the sunshine, it stirs a feeling of joy.

Then you realize that you have to help everyone clean up this mess, there's no internet connection, and your dog is stuck in the tree, right next to the Toyota.

Sorry, I went political.

Today, it's very difficult for me to not be bitter. I really don't want to be. I really want to have a good day. I really want to spend it with friends at church and with my family, and yet, here I sit, in the store, with no traffic because everyone is at home with their friends and family.

Oh well. At least it's not cold in here. Or hot. The temperature is just right. I should have brought a DVD in or something.

So, has anyone been following this Iranian guy's latest comments? Call me a crazy republican but I think Mr. Mahmoud Ahmedinejad is a crazed idiot. Every time he denies sanctions and acts all big and bad, he just furthers the theory that he wants nuclear weapons, and not just nuclear fuel. In his latest rant, he said something along the lines of 'America knows itself that it cannot hurt the nation of Iran one iota'. Excuse me pal. If you are using the war in Iraq as a reference, then you are a fool. We don't destroy everything in Iraq because we want the true friendly Iraqi's to have their country. If Iran wants to pick a fight, we'll flatten them. It won't be hard. Look at the first Gulf War and what we did to Iraq's military. A military that was supposed to be in the top five militaries in the world. Frickin idiot.

Apologies.

Behold, the Ninja-Bread Man!

Huge Manatee

And then a reversal.

I walked outside and it was warm and dark. The air was heavy, smelling of rain, recently evicted, and the low cloudcover dashed orange from the city lights hinted at nearby downpours waiting to pounce. There was slow but constant wind, rustling the leaves but hardly even touching my hair, leaving a slightly uncomfortable feeling of nervous intent.

I walked out onto the sidewalk, recently rain-soaked, and looked around. The world was closing in. It felt as though there was nobody else around; that I was alone in the city, just like a movie, with nobody to talk to, nothing to find, and something stalking around the darkness.

The orange glow of the city reflecting on the purple clouds left me desiring to find more, as I strolled off under the trees and through the wet grass to find something; anything.

I watched with disappointment as I saw myself wander aimlessly into the dark. I called out, but my voice was stolen in the wind, leaving nothing but rustling grass and my will to attempt an intervention. There was nothing that could be done. I paced back and forth on the porch, wishing I could have stopped myself from leaving, but I was far too talented at ignoring myself. I had to let me go.

I walked back inside, turned on the lights, and made soup. Broccoli and cheese fragrances lifted from the pan, as the gracefully potent tones of 'I Choose Noise' drifted from the stereo in the living room. The rain picked up in perfect timing with the climax of the song in a fit of coincidence.

The soup finished, and I sat softly on the couch, propping my feet up on the coffee table, enjoying the rain, but missing the interaction. The lighting in the room seemed to fade, if only due to my inattentiveness, staring out the window at nothing and everything. The soup grew cold, the music repeated, the thoughts remained, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door, and walked into the house, rain soaking my clothes, almost down to my bones. Water puddles formed where my feet had been as I walked to the bathroom, stood in the tub and stripped down, donned a towel, and went to make soup. The stove was strangely warm as I prepared the nights banquet.

I sat on the couch, turned on the tv and pulled up the newest episode of "The Office". I sat and enjoyed my soup, and the show, laughed at Jim, felt bad for Toby, wanted to strangle Michael, and fell asleep with the series on 'repeat'.

I awoke to the sound of Josh running down the stairs, and the sun shining through the blinds, ironically causing me to squint. I smiled as Josh walked by in his long underwear, and felt oddly happy, as if I had spent the evening with a friend.

I felt at home.

Crimson and Sickness

At least, that's how I feel this season starts off in retail. I mean, I spent last year's Thanksgiving all upset because I had to go to bed early so I could be at work at 4 am. One of my reasons for leaving Best Buy when I did was so that I didn't have to do that again. Long hours, impatient people, rude line-jumpers, and people who will sacrifice all kindness and fairness to buy a cheaper present for their kids.

So, I tried to get out of this, and moved to a new company. My attempt wasn't entirely in vain, but it was close. I spent yesterday (Thanksgiving) being upset because I needed to get to bed early because I was working a twelve hour shift starting at 7:45am. Crazy. I just want out of retail so bad. But what can you do? I mean, I've tried and as far as I'm concerned, I was lied to on many facets of this situation, and mix in a bit of naivete and a bit of my own bad decision making.

Anyways. Aside from that, I have recieved a new car, which is pretty cool. A 1990 Nissan Maxima. Funny thing is; the insurance on the Maxima is more expensive than the insurance on my Rx-7. No idea. Weird.

Also, I am probably going to start going back to school in the spring. That makes me excited. I like the feeling of 'belonging' to a school, so to speak (as long as it's not WSU, because then I just feel like I'm 'owned' by the school, which is stupid).

So ok. It's time to get back to work. *ninja vanish*