And by that, I mean ON THE ROAD.
Texas LAUGHS at your footpaths!
In Texas, if you want to be in on the sidewalk, GET IN A CAR.
I’m just…not sure how I feel about the idea of taking my dog to
I mean. Do they drool every time the bell rings and a customer walks in?
That would be the most *disgusting* floor…pretty much *ever*.
That’s right. You can board your pet there.
Your dog is going to be exactly the same when you come to pick it up.
Who thought this was a good idea?
Words of the Week:
How I look now that I have my motorcycle endorsement:
I have decided to commit to a two-wheeled vehicle.
This has proved to be a really intersting decision, in the way that it was fueled from a really weird place.
In the past year, I have made many decisions, not all of which were particularly *good* decisions. I got used to a certain level of fear in my life, and now I’m trying to figure out what to do with that.
At the time, it wasn’t something that I particularly noticed, but when I went back, and started comparing my current thought processes to the ones that I had years ago, there was really only one noticeable change for me, and that was this addition of *fear*.
It’s frustrating, because I can’t just…wish it away. I can’t just go back to being the way I was before. I don’t get to magically stop assessing situations from this place where I am now, where fear is a part of how I view life.
That’s really hard for me, because it’s so easy to remember when that *wasn’t* how I felt.
(Or maybe it’s not. Maybe I just processed it all differently then.)
I was sitting there, listening to all of the people who say things like “Is that safe?” and “Don’t die!” and I just thought…Is that really the only reason? This is a thing that I want to do. I’m thinking about not doing it. The only reason…is fear.
(And I understand, this is a reasonable, logically founded fear. Like. I get it. If you’re in a accident on a motocycle, you’re in a *really bad* place. I do get that.)
But I’m also really done with rationalizing fears to be “sensible”.
Yes. Shit may happen.
But how much am I truly willing to let that control my life?
So. I have bought a motorcycle.
I am terrified, and exhilerated.
Which is apparently a situation that I like to be in. But it feels good.
I have officially reached the point where the coffee shop baristas start my order when they see me walk in the door. They give me a wave as they head out after their shift is over.
This….took a worryingly short amount of time to happen…
Today I go in to hand off the end of my required paperwork so I can get put into the system and start my new job.
Which I am INCOHERENTLY EXCITED ABOUT, I CAN’T EVEN HANDLE IT.
I get to work at a place called SHERLOCK’S PUB which has LIVE MUSIC EVERY NIGHT.
BRITISH PUB. CALLED “SHERLOCKS” WITH *LIVE MUSIC* *EVERY NIGHT*.
This week was a bit crazy, and I neglected my linguistic duties this weekemd! Terribly sorry. So, now I present: Words of the Week!
moue – noun
1) a pouting expression used to convey annoyance or distaste.
philter – noun
1) a drink supposed to arouse love and desire for a particular person in the drinker; a love potion.
*definitions are from Google this week, because I’m being a bit lazy and just want to get this posted. :P
A common theme on this blog over the past…while…has been Me Finding A Job!
Which was mostly facilitated by my wandering around the planet.
I’ve sort of scaled down my wanderings of late, however, and thusly am looking for a rather more long-term job.
Which I seem to have found.
This story isn’t so much about finding a job though, as it is about finding a job whilst not following…pretty much every single rule about job-searching that I have ever learned.
I was heading out to this pub to drop off a resume. I double-checked the ad while I was on the bus over, and realized that it emailed applications were also accepted. It was a really long bus ride, so I decided that I might as well send in an email while I was on my way there.
I got to the pub, walked in, didn’t talk to anyone, awkwardly checked a menu for like, five minutes before chickening out and running away to a coffee shop down the street.
Now, I would like to point out that at this specific juncture in time, I wasn’t going for an interview or anything. I just wanted to drop off my resume with whoever was at the counter and then move along.
Then, at the coffee shop, I got a phone call from the pub. They were all “Hey. You should come by and fill out an application.” and I said “I’m sort of in the neighbourhood. I can come by later tonight?” which was deemed acceptable.
I’m wearing sneakers, a trilby and a t-shirt that I’ve had for eight years, and a bottle-cap necklace with a pendent that’s a picture of Godzilla burning Tokyo from the original film. I also completely forgot that I was wearing metal in my face.L
I go to the pub. I mention that I’m there to fill out a job application. The manager comes out – *wearing a kilt*.
I filled out the application, we had a chat, he said “stay here. You need to talk to the other manager.”
By the end of the night I had a job offer.
So. Sometimes all of the advice in the world doesn’t matter. It’s just finding the right people and the right place.
(Also, don’t do what I do. I’m telling this story because I’m narcisstic enough to run a blog about my life, not because I think this is a good example to set.)