I would first like to apologize to all 3 readers out there. I do not know exactly what happened to the writing styles of Caitlin Clark on the blog. I am able to guess most of her typing energy has been transferred from the blog over to other more trivial things, such as graduate study papers, and texting with friends. Thankfully for all of you I can still find time with my open and simple schedule from work.
Because my schedule at work is so simple and the demands of me are not overwhelming in any way. I have been granted 4 days of leave over the Christmas and New Year holiday season. It may seem soon to many of you out there for planning, but there was external pressure motivating me to figure out my itinerary. All in one day I have requested time off, was granted that time off, and then booked a round trip flight from the cities.
I am excited about the return home, but there was a lot of conflict in my means of transportation. Throughout my history I have always been willing to make life as uncomfortable as possible to safe a dollar or two. From eating sandwiches three meals a day to driving my motorcycle until it is well below freezing, I save money where I can. With a little research into my possible flights I began to feel a little ill imagining the amount of money required for a trip home. There were too many variables, should I arrive in La Crosse or Minneapolis, if Minneapolis how will I get home, and then what days should I come home? All thoughts along with 12 web pages began to disorient me a little, and then to complicate matters more I decided to sample alternatives.
A train ride would take 40 hours but save me about $100. Words of discouragement coming from the usual source caused me to quickly disregard the option in fear of being trapped on a rail out near Glacier National Park for my vacation was not too appealing. Another alternative quickly gave rise in my mind. The bus of course. It is scheduled to take approximately the same amount of time but even cost much less than the train. What a wonderful idea.
Well revolutionary ideas sour very quick once realistic thoughts slowly emerge through the ecstatic haze of self believed genius. It was the challenge of making the bus in the first place. I work the Thursday before until 4 and I would need to make it down town Portland in exactly one hour to catch the 5 pm departure time. I imagined a timely exit from work at 3:55 in order to catch the train 4 blocks away for downtown. Arriving in hopefully 35 minutes I could easily march the last 6 blocks and then in 43 hrs I would be in Winona Minnesota.
Eventually sad thoughts of failure helped me realize that I am a coward. So many what ifs forced made me think the convenience of a 4 hr flight beats the rush and uncertainty of bus travel. Darn my poor rationality! Now bills will run me over during Christmas and I will cry on my flight home knowing that I could have done better. All I needed to do was suck up a 43 hour bus ride where I would have probably got some sort of infection on my body, lose a lot of sleep, and most likely listen to the life theories of some random bus passenger next to me. How bad could it have been? I guess I will never know because my sense of adventure and sheer determination has withered away. My 23 year old rationale has accepted the luxuries and conveniences offered in today's society. I think I have mentally beaten myself into deciding next time I will ride the bus or take the train. I look forward to it.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
Monday, October 17, 2011
Furious!
Wow, it was just one of those days where you wake up and you say "yaawwwn... things are going to suck." Problem is that the only reason things are going to suck is simply because everything is going to infuriate you no matter the problem.
I knew it would be crappy because Caitlin MADE me go change the oil in the car at a place 8.1 miles away because there were "eight positive reviews online." I fought, pouted, and whined all hours previous scheduling of appointment until after the completion of the job. Good news was that everything went fine. I didn't get lost looking for it, the job was done cheaply and hassle free, and I even went on a 45 minute adventure to find the lost market of Ink Well, which had relocated and google was not up to date on the location of their store. After wandering and questioning many passerby's I discovered its whereabouts, with only seconds to spare to beat the oil changing process.
Though everything was going well my mind still kept saying "things sure do suck today don't they Danny?" No. But I felt they did.
Sam Gaumont, one of the family members I have been helping move recently, asked if I would be able to do a few simple errands. Unfortunately they required my least favorite kind of adventure. Adventure by vehicle in a crowded easily to get lost in city. My task was to recycle styrofoam and follow it up with a little paint recycling. Easy enough. Well here in the great city of Portland nothing is as easy as it seems. The Styrofoam drug me out to the outer eastern ring where I have never been with or without a Honda Odyssey. Happy day points to driving a minivan again. Upon arrival I learn some of my cargo does not meet the quality of Styrofoam that is required at such a high class establishment. Sam's going to be angry, because the extra garbage around the house has caused a great deal of distress while attempting to straighten things out to move. Oh well, on to the next destination.
The Metro Recycling deal (I don't remember what it was called nor can I find it online because I want to give it horribly unhappy reviews for making me, so so mad.) was located on the Northern side of Portland where again I have never been in a Honda Odyssey. I enter and see a sign I believe to say $28 dollars per ton of garbage, followed by me and my vehicle weighing in at a dainty 4660 pounds. 'Oh, they charge me the weight difference upon leaving' I conclude. So I unload my paint, pull over to the mountain of garbage and fill it with my two 1 pound bags of stuff and proceed to be weighed again. Anticipating the $5 for hazardous waste I pull out a five. The weight man/ cashier mumbles "blah petub blurgh spittle blub $33." Usually I don't show too much emotion in my speech, but there is something deeply ingrained in my being about spending money that I did not expect that really irks me. "WHAT!?!" "$33" and straining very hard to understand what he said I made out "five for the paint and twenty eight for the garbage" Turns out no matter how much you toss in the price is $28 for the first ton of garbage. I offered to retrieve my garbage, but policy says for my safety I may not return and get what I have already deposited for my well being. After a few comments back and forth about the outrageous price for my stuff. I froze. My eye twitching as I stared at the $15 Sam gave me to take away the stuff, the five dollars I had in my own wallet, and then to my debit card. I died a little as I realize I have no power in this world. The value of all the work you do really turns to nothing when I pay for 2 bags of garbage the equivalent of 3 hours of my work at this time. I conceded. I couldn't argue with a man I could hardly understand. And I couldn't win. My fury would have got the best of me as I cursed him out. Hindsight tells me I should have just sat there and said "No." When he asked "what?" I do a little civil disobedience and plant myself on the scale so business may not return to normal as I level headily plead my case. It seems so simple now, but my inability to argue and confront the powers that be won.
Why did I grow up a peace loving human? Why do I enjoy allowing people to enjoy their life even when I feel I get crapped on from all sides? I as well as all of us need to learn confrontation can be good at some points, especially when you can win. I challenge not only myself, but all of you. Go out and assert yourself! If it means cutting someone off in the next lane so you don't miss your lane, do so. If you don't you may miss the I-5 exit and start heading north of I-80 towards Idaho. It happens more often than you'd like to think, like my return trip. Gahh. I forgot about that until I start thinking about my passive habits of life. Alright, I'm done ranting about my day. I'm going to watch the Spongebob episode where Plankton teaches him to be assertive, but I'll shut it off before they get the the conclusion where Spongebob learns the evils of asserting one's desires over other's feelings. Take care, recycle and drive attentively.
I knew it would be crappy because Caitlin MADE me go change the oil in the car at a place 8.1 miles away because there were "eight positive reviews online." I fought, pouted, and whined all hours previous scheduling of appointment until after the completion of the job. Good news was that everything went fine. I didn't get lost looking for it, the job was done cheaply and hassle free, and I even went on a 45 minute adventure to find the lost market of Ink Well, which had relocated and google was not up to date on the location of their store. After wandering and questioning many passerby's I discovered its whereabouts, with only seconds to spare to beat the oil changing process.
Though everything was going well my mind still kept saying "things sure do suck today don't they Danny?" No. But I felt they did.
Sam Gaumont, one of the family members I have been helping move recently, asked if I would be able to do a few simple errands. Unfortunately they required my least favorite kind of adventure. Adventure by vehicle in a crowded easily to get lost in city. My task was to recycle styrofoam and follow it up with a little paint recycling. Easy enough. Well here in the great city of Portland nothing is as easy as it seems. The Styrofoam drug me out to the outer eastern ring where I have never been with or without a Honda Odyssey. Happy day points to driving a minivan again. Upon arrival I learn some of my cargo does not meet the quality of Styrofoam that is required at such a high class establishment. Sam's going to be angry, because the extra garbage around the house has caused a great deal of distress while attempting to straighten things out to move. Oh well, on to the next destination.
The Metro Recycling deal (I don't remember what it was called nor can I find it online because I want to give it horribly unhappy reviews for making me, so so mad.) was located on the Northern side of Portland where again I have never been in a Honda Odyssey. I enter and see a sign I believe to say $28 dollars per ton of garbage, followed by me and my vehicle weighing in at a dainty 4660 pounds. 'Oh, they charge me the weight difference upon leaving' I conclude. So I unload my paint, pull over to the mountain of garbage and fill it with my two 1 pound bags of stuff and proceed to be weighed again. Anticipating the $5 for hazardous waste I pull out a five. The weight man/ cashier mumbles "blah petub blurgh spittle blub $33." Usually I don't show too much emotion in my speech, but there is something deeply ingrained in my being about spending money that I did not expect that really irks me. "WHAT!?!" "$33" and straining very hard to understand what he said I made out "five for the paint and twenty eight for the garbage" Turns out no matter how much you toss in the price is $28 for the first ton of garbage. I offered to retrieve my garbage, but policy says for my safety I may not return and get what I have already deposited for my well being. After a few comments back and forth about the outrageous price for my stuff. I froze. My eye twitching as I stared at the $15 Sam gave me to take away the stuff, the five dollars I had in my own wallet, and then to my debit card. I died a little as I realize I have no power in this world. The value of all the work you do really turns to nothing when I pay for 2 bags of garbage the equivalent of 3 hours of my work at this time. I conceded. I couldn't argue with a man I could hardly understand. And I couldn't win. My fury would have got the best of me as I cursed him out. Hindsight tells me I should have just sat there and said "No." When he asked "what?" I do a little civil disobedience and plant myself on the scale so business may not return to normal as I level headily plead my case. It seems so simple now, but my inability to argue and confront the powers that be won.
Why did I grow up a peace loving human? Why do I enjoy allowing people to enjoy their life even when I feel I get crapped on from all sides? I as well as all of us need to learn confrontation can be good at some points, especially when you can win. I challenge not only myself, but all of you. Go out and assert yourself! If it means cutting someone off in the next lane so you don't miss your lane, do so. If you don't you may miss the I-5 exit and start heading north of I-80 towards Idaho. It happens more often than you'd like to think, like my return trip. Gahh. I forgot about that until I start thinking about my passive habits of life. Alright, I'm done ranting about my day. I'm going to watch the Spongebob episode where Plankton teaches him to be assertive, but I'll shut it off before they get the the conclusion where Spongebob learns the evils of asserting one's desires over other's feelings. Take care, recycle and drive attentively.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Bike, Work, Bike, Sleep, repeat
Have you ever done something and afterwords said to yourself "I will never do that again!"? Of course everyone has, from things as simple as eating a jar of peanut butter to playing hours of video games until your eyes feel like they are bleeding. Everyone has been there but I have had a number of made a number of work related declarations on what I will and will not do. During college I was the frozen pizza warehouse organizer and there was nothing about this job that was "fun." Constantly at 0 degrees Fahrenheit, alone, and usually working late hours did not allow me to have a positive mentality going to work. The job did allow me to work around my schedule, pay very well, and free weekends to visit someone who has required frequent visits in the cities. After four years and graduating college, I decided I was no longer a peon to simply be working as a warehouse organizer! I am EDUCATED AND HAVE POWER! Well I found out as soon as I left, the work world was less accepting of my "education" than I thought they would be. Searching and finding jobs since has led to less pay and qualifications in the jobs I have done. First I was a 4 am store stocking fiend at Onalaska's Target for 2 weeks, and then I spent a month working at WisCorps followed by a 3 month gap of no job and a solid stint of rejection.
Well after many cover letters, and hours upon hours sitting on my computer things have paid off. I have acquired the position as a WAREHOUSE ASSISTANT! WHOO! This position is part time at the Habitat for Humanity ReStore. Can't believe I have gone right back in a circle. The funny thing is I think my 4 years as a Nestle Pizza Frozen Warehouse Assistant has paid off better than my 4 years spent at the University of Wisconsin - La Crosse. Huh funny how that works. I got rejected from a political advocate position because the interrogator asked me if I could go to someones door and get them to get their checkbook and write out a check for a great cause? I hesitated and stuttered way too long to sound confident. I guess 4 years of reading isn't as great of experience as 4 years of stacking pallets.
My favorite part about the job is that I have POWER! My minion volunteers have no idea what they have gotten themselves into until they start working for me. Mwahaha! All I can do is check on them and of course ask leading questions implying my impatience with their work. For example "still working on that?" (emphasis on the stIll) It's all great except it is weird when volunteers work longer days than I do. They really are better people than I am. Worst part is I show up after they have been there for 2 hours, which means the other employees at the restore completely destroy my ability to control their actions my establishing authority before I can. The obvious next step is to undermine their established hold on their loyalty. I make my presence and title known by loudly proclaiming my position over them and all orders are to come from me. That never works, because they instinctively return to the initial authoritative figure who gave them the job. The trick is timing your arrival instantly as they are thinking 'well I wonder what now,' (enter Danny) tell them great job and show them more. This takes a lot of time and practice. I need to analyze work speed, approximate job difficulty, figure the location of accomplishment, and of course remember their name because everyone likes to be address, unfortunately that is what I struggle with most.
Though I am a tyrant and expect hard work, dedication, and perfection from my volunteers I have learned to mention maybe taking a break every now and then so they don't feel they need to dash from task to task.
Overall I am very happy thus far with the job. I believe working for Habitat for Humanity is something I can feel good about, and who knows, it may even lead to greater positions in the company down the road. I also have great bosses. I have to be thankful they are understanding, because one of the first thing the store manager Alex told me my first day was I spelled his last name incorrectly on my cover letter. I was on my A game though that day and totally countered with an explanation that it must have been spelled wrong on the job description. Unfortunately for me, he was the one who wrote it :(. I suppose my explanation would be a little more valid if I accidentally spell my name Done every now and then, but until that day I am a sad excuse for a flashy application writer. Another day that stands out in the first week was when I walk in prepared to forget about happiness and fun when I see my bosses assistant/volunteer coordinator Colleen snuggling with a white terrier named Stewie. Work couldn't be more enjoyable. And I suppose the reason I got this job is all because I suffered through unimaginable pain and agony as the peon of the Nestle Pizza Warehouse (thank you for the people who made it possible).
But life isn't all work. I have to get there and what better way than riding bikes, what a typical Portlander I am. 8 miles is my commute and my thighs have felt every one of them. Biking is hard! Here's one for my family who thinks I am a hippie. I peddle 16 miles a day, I work 5 days a week making my total 80 miles a week. Caitlin's Corolla has been getting 28 mpg in the city which means I save 2.86 gallons of gas per week. And now for the stat that matters most for me to truly define a labeling theory is I save 55.48 pounds of CO2 being released into the atmosphere according to the EPA (http://www.epa.gov/oms/climate/420f05001.htm). Boom! How's that for smug Matthew?! (Only because he has relentlessly tormented me for being a hippie and smug, and smug is a term coined my South Park for people who think they are better than others because they "want to be part of the solution, not the problem" and care about the environment.) That is not my motivation though! My main goal is not to be killed by Caitlin for driving "her." You see she doesn't like to share. For example, if she knew I have been using her computer for the last 3.5 hours while she was gone she would probably want to strangle me, and since she will find out after the fact I feel safe telling you.
Speaking of the adventures with Caitlin. Well, it's always food that gets in the way. Last night I decided to take upon myself preparing meals for later in the week. I cooked black beans for Beanurgers, and also was making cabbage dumplings for a curry dish to be made later. Cabbage dumplings turned out to be very difficult. It took me hours because like always never did I think about reading the recipe and seeing if I could make it. There sort of was a small requirement for a food processor, and when I say requirement I mean everything I had was supposed to be shredded. So hacked away for a long while and when she got home there was cabbage and green lentils all over the kitchen and I had cabbage and bean juices all over myself from spills. It was a disaster, but I was making it. Things got much easier when the continuous step by step process of my stupidity and inabilities with cooking were explained to me. In the end I lost control of my project, and she finished frying the cabbage dumplings as all I could do is sulk in my cabbage covered defeat. But deep down in the demeaning language I know love backed every word.
My hard work came to nothing, because she had fun activities to do tonight which has left me home alone, so I'm not going to make anything nice for myself. Instead I ate half a bag of Ghirardelli semi sweet chocolate chips, Ha got you good Caitlin! I can't wait to see her face when she is making cookies only to realize all the chips are gone MWAHAHA! And good, news my tummy ache is slowly receding. So victories all around tonight. And one more! I finished my blog post.
BYE, take care and love from me!
Well after many cover letters, and hours upon hours sitting on my computer things have paid off. I have acquired the position as a WAREHOUSE ASSISTANT! WHOO! This position is part time at the Habitat for Humanity ReStore. Can't believe I have gone right back in a circle. The funny thing is I think my 4 years as a Nestle Pizza Frozen Warehouse Assistant has paid off better than my 4 years spent at the University of Wisconsin - La Crosse. Huh funny how that works. I got rejected from a political advocate position because the interrogator asked me if I could go to someones door and get them to get their checkbook and write out a check for a great cause? I hesitated and stuttered way too long to sound confident. I guess 4 years of reading isn't as great of experience as 4 years of stacking pallets.
My favorite part about the job is that I have POWER! My minion volunteers have no idea what they have gotten themselves into until they start working for me. Mwahaha! All I can do is check on them and of course ask leading questions implying my impatience with their work. For example "still working on that?" (emphasis on the stIll) It's all great except it is weird when volunteers work longer days than I do. They really are better people than I am. Worst part is I show up after they have been there for 2 hours, which means the other employees at the restore completely destroy my ability to control their actions my establishing authority before I can. The obvious next step is to undermine their established hold on their loyalty. I make my presence and title known by loudly proclaiming my position over them and all orders are to come from me. That never works, because they instinctively return to the initial authoritative figure who gave them the job. The trick is timing your arrival instantly as they are thinking 'well I wonder what now,' (enter Danny) tell them great job and show them more. This takes a lot of time and practice. I need to analyze work speed, approximate job difficulty, figure the location of accomplishment, and of course remember their name because everyone likes to be address, unfortunately that is what I struggle with most.
Though I am a tyrant and expect hard work, dedication, and perfection from my volunteers I have learned to mention maybe taking a break every now and then so they don't feel they need to dash from task to task.
Overall I am very happy thus far with the job. I believe working for Habitat for Humanity is something I can feel good about, and who knows, it may even lead to greater positions in the company down the road. I also have great bosses. I have to be thankful they are understanding, because one of the first thing the store manager Alex told me my first day was I spelled his last name incorrectly on my cover letter. I was on my A game though that day and totally countered with an explanation that it must have been spelled wrong on the job description. Unfortunately for me, he was the one who wrote it :(. I suppose my explanation would be a little more valid if I accidentally spell my name Done every now and then, but until that day I am a sad excuse for a flashy application writer. Another day that stands out in the first week was when I walk in prepared to forget about happiness and fun when I see my bosses assistant/volunteer coordinator Colleen snuggling with a white terrier named Stewie. Work couldn't be more enjoyable. And I suppose the reason I got this job is all because I suffered through unimaginable pain and agony as the peon of the Nestle Pizza Warehouse (thank you for the people who made it possible).
But life isn't all work. I have to get there and what better way than riding bikes, what a typical Portlander I am. 8 miles is my commute and my thighs have felt every one of them. Biking is hard! Here's one for my family who thinks I am a hippie. I peddle 16 miles a day, I work 5 days a week making my total 80 miles a week. Caitlin's Corolla has been getting 28 mpg in the city which means I save 2.86 gallons of gas per week. And now for the stat that matters most for me to truly define a labeling theory is I save 55.48 pounds of CO2 being released into the atmosphere according to the EPA (http://www.epa.gov/oms/climate/420f05001.htm). Boom! How's that for smug Matthew?! (Only because he has relentlessly tormented me for being a hippie and smug, and smug is a term coined my South Park for people who think they are better than others because they "want to be part of the solution, not the problem" and care about the environment.) That is not my motivation though! My main goal is not to be killed by Caitlin for driving "her." You see she doesn't like to share. For example, if she knew I have been using her computer for the last 3.5 hours while she was gone she would probably want to strangle me, and since she will find out after the fact I feel safe telling you.
Speaking of the adventures with Caitlin. Well, it's always food that gets in the way. Last night I decided to take upon myself preparing meals for later in the week. I cooked black beans for Beanurgers, and also was making cabbage dumplings for a curry dish to be made later. Cabbage dumplings turned out to be very difficult. It took me hours because like always never did I think about reading the recipe and seeing if I could make it. There sort of was a small requirement for a food processor, and when I say requirement I mean everything I had was supposed to be shredded. So hacked away for a long while and when she got home there was cabbage and green lentils all over the kitchen and I had cabbage and bean juices all over myself from spills. It was a disaster, but I was making it. Things got much easier when the continuous step by step process of my stupidity and inabilities with cooking were explained to me. In the end I lost control of my project, and she finished frying the cabbage dumplings as all I could do is sulk in my cabbage covered defeat. But deep down in the demeaning language I know love backed every word.
My hard work came to nothing, because she had fun activities to do tonight which has left me home alone, so I'm not going to make anything nice for myself. Instead I ate half a bag of Ghirardelli semi sweet chocolate chips, Ha got you good Caitlin! I can't wait to see her face when she is making cookies only to realize all the chips are gone MWAHAHA! And good, news my tummy ache is slowly receding. So victories all around tonight. And one more! I finished my blog post.
BYE, take care and love from me!
Sunday, October 2, 2011
A Lifetime of Defeat Turning to Victory.
There has been one grand feat in life that has challenged me since I was a wee child. And I mean young. I believe the quest was begun when I was about 5 years old and has stolen sleep from me all the years to adulthood. I remember it like it was yesterday. Sitting all day staring at the T.V. in my Grandma's game room. The entire family visit I wouldn't hardly talk to anyone except the old Nintendo system she had. I was playing non other than the Legend Of Zelda, the most revolutionary video game in my life. I played this game from when I arrived at Grandma's until I left. Slowly but surely collecting the pieces of triforce as I scoured the lands of Hyrule developing my skills and collecting the magical items along the way. I died a little each time my parent said "Danny go to the bathroom we are about to leave." The reply as always was "I don't have to." "Well try anyway because we don't want to stop 10 minutes after we leave!" Oh the age old pre-departure discussion.
On my away time I daydreamed incessantly staring out the bus window anticipating the next video adventure. Nate would try and talk to me, but I would blow him off only to relive the adventures past. Around the age of 12 I was returning to Grandma's to continue my crusade against the evil forces of Ganon only to have the highest level of disappointment possible. My file was deleted! AAAAHHHH! I was on the second quest dungeon #4 GAAA! Who would do such a thing? Uncle Mark! He was the only one who played the game other than me. I felt foul play was afoot. He was obviously trying to protect his own glory of being the only other person I knew (which had to be like 50 people) to have ever beaten the game. I did a little investigating into the travesty, but ended up with far less evidence to indict him for family sanctioned punishment. The only thing I could do was start over. Before I knew it the system was gone and replaced with the dreaded N64. NOOOO I'll never finish the game.
Well a few years ago Nintendo remade the game for the GameBoy and I played it, but my interest faded before completion since I had other things to do... like college. But recently, as in yesterday, I had some time to burn before Caitlin and I went to the Hood River Hops Fest and I saw my GameBoy and said "Why not?" Instantly, flashbacks to the challenges of a young determined Danny Dunn dedicating his life to saving the citizens of Hyrule from the Prince of Darkness himself Ganon. Oh Ganon my old foe you will go down in a great ball of Fire, and what is this? Quest 2 dungeon #4 the old ending point of a destroyed dream. The Fire has been rekindled GAME ON!
Next thing I knew we were in Hood River. An hour and a half drive had gone by and I hadn't even beaten dungeon #4! I didn't remember how difficult the game is. I apologized to Caitlin for not talking to her the entire drive. She replied with "Eh, it wasn't bad, I really enjoyed listening to the radio." Good to know my company is missed. The hops fest went quickly enough and we were back in the car. "Don't worry Caitlin all I have to do is beat this dungeon and I'll stop." As we pulled into our parking spot. VICTORY! (Double Fist Pump) #4 is done, and in record time 3 hours. Since then dungeon 5 has crumbled under my mighty sword, which means only 4 more to go. Thankfully I'm unemployed or else I don't know if I could possibly spare the time for work. Updates later as progress resumes.
Well anyway the HopsFest wasn't just a blur. We did have a good time and drink a mighty bitter and hoppy beers. I'm going to take note that I do not, I repeat do not enjoy bitter beers. Blech. But we found a few gems within the ocean of IPAs. The most exciting part was when we were eating lunch Caitlin used my leatherman to slice our brick of cheddar cheese we brought. Unbeknownst to me she did not close the blade and stuck it back in the lunch box. I decided some trail mix looked good, but the blade was lying behind the tinfoil ball of orange peals completely hidden from my perspective. I realized it only when SLICE goes the end of my finger. "CAITLIN why would you do that?!" As the tears of fear, pain, and betrayal slid down my face. All she could do was dribble out a poor excuse like "Oh, I figured you would see it." Yeah nice little miss hazard. I know my finger will eventually heal and I will have full function again someday, we can only pray for the feeling to return and the nightmares to fade.
Sorry there isn't too much action, unless if you count the virtual destruction of evil demon minions as action,BOO YEAH, life is getting cold, wet and slow. Until next time readers. Maybe by then I will finally be able to go on the big kid ramps at the skate park and I can tell you about all my new booboos from trying to roll on a skateboard. I'll never do anything crazy cool so be happy when that kickflip does happen. Cheers!
Well a few years ago Nintendo remade the game for the GameBoy and I played it, but my interest faded before completion since I had other things to do... like college. But recently, as in yesterday, I had some time to burn before Caitlin and I went to the Hood River Hops Fest and I saw my GameBoy and said "Why not?" Instantly, flashbacks to the challenges of a young determined Danny Dunn dedicating his life to saving the citizens of Hyrule from the Prince of Darkness himself Ganon. Oh Ganon my old foe you will go down in a great ball of Fire, and what is this? Quest 2 dungeon #4 the old ending point of a destroyed dream. The Fire has been rekindled GAME ON!
Next thing I knew we were in Hood River. An hour and a half drive had gone by and I hadn't even beaten dungeon #4! I didn't remember how difficult the game is. I apologized to Caitlin for not talking to her the entire drive. She replied with "Eh, it wasn't bad, I really enjoyed listening to the radio." Good to know my company is missed. The hops fest went quickly enough and we were back in the car. "Don't worry Caitlin all I have to do is beat this dungeon and I'll stop." As we pulled into our parking spot. VICTORY! (Double Fist Pump) #4 is done, and in record time 3 hours. Since then dungeon 5 has crumbled under my mighty sword, which means only 4 more to go. Thankfully I'm unemployed or else I don't know if I could possibly spare the time for work. Updates later as progress resumes.
Well anyway the HopsFest wasn't just a blur. We did have a good time and drink a mighty bitter and hoppy beers. I'm going to take note that I do not, I repeat do not enjoy bitter beers. Blech. But we found a few gems within the ocean of IPAs. The most exciting part was when we were eating lunch Caitlin used my leatherman to slice our brick of cheddar cheese we brought. Unbeknownst to me she did not close the blade and stuck it back in the lunch box. I decided some trail mix looked good, but the blade was lying behind the tinfoil ball of orange peals completely hidden from my perspective. I realized it only when SLICE goes the end of my finger. "CAITLIN why would you do that?!" As the tears of fear, pain, and betrayal slid down my face. All she could do was dribble out a poor excuse like "Oh, I figured you would see it." Yeah nice little miss hazard. I know my finger will eventually heal and I will have full function again someday, we can only pray for the feeling to return and the nightmares to fade.
Sorry there isn't too much action, unless if you count the virtual destruction of evil demon minions as action,BOO YEAH, life is getting cold, wet and slow. Until next time readers. Maybe by then I will finally be able to go on the big kid ramps at the skate park and I can tell you about all my new booboos from trying to roll on a skateboard. I'll never do anything crazy cool so be happy when that kickflip does happen. Cheers!
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