End of the World: Day 1

The day has dawned, thank goodness. We were all sure that we wouldn't live to see the morning. I'm writing from my laptop safe, for now, inside my apartment. There are fires all around us, but it looks like our building has escaped unscathed. I don't know how long this good fortune will last, but I'm still thankful for the small boon.

I heard that work got hit hard. That's really disheartening because I was hoping that we could hole up there on our way north. Oh, that's what we decided: we're heading north. The three of us talked about it last night, and we figured that if we can go somewhere that is only sparsely populated, then we'll stand a better chance of surviving this horror. I know our neighbors left yesterday. I watched as they all piled into their car and sped away. I warned them to stay inside for the first few days, let everything settle just a bit. That would be safer. But they are holding onto the hope.

Hope. I guess you could call us hopeful. Hopeful that we prepared well enough for this. There's plenty of food around, what with all the a lot of the people leaving our complex. More will probably leave today. Hope. I know that we all need to sleep a little before it gets dark, but, every time I try, I see the fires and hear the screams.

I'm going to try to keep my computer around so that I can journal each day. Hope. It's all for hope. At the very least, if we don't make it, maybe someone will find this journal in later years and remember that we tried.

Still alive,
The Piebald Penguin

Late Night Drive

Chasing Green Light,
In the Dark of Night.

If this World is full of life,
Then why is it so dead?

I wonder,
I ponder.

I wander.
Is this the end?

No, but it's not the beginning either.

~tPP

She Called Me Wonderful Man

Life has been full of adventures lately. Work has been an ever-present source of frustration, but that has been balanced out by the amazing development in my "local" rock climbing gym (they installed an auto-belay system that allows the climber to scale the walls safely without another person). Speaking of other people, I must include at least one mention of Sleeping Beauty in this post (well, this is the second mention). Sometimes work keeps us apart but the time that we have together is spent taking a break from the stress of the world. If you've never experienced this with another person, I must confide that it is so wonderful as to be irreplaceable in anyone's life, much less my own.

I find it in my nature to be vague. Straightforward, certainly. But still vague. Thanksgiving was homemade pizza and store-bought pumpkin pie. And odd-sounding combination for such a tradition-based holiday, but it suited me. The company suited me too.

Slumber.

~TPp

Sanitary Salutation

Things I did today:
Worked on an empty stomach (never a good idea);
Cleaned the shower...while taking a shower (pretty much the best idea I've ever had...possibly)
Went to see the new Bond movie (this falls somewhere in the "meh" category. Going to see movies in theaters are things that Goraxypox and I do on occasion and it's nice to relax and all that. So, in that sense, it was worth it. On the other hand, the movie had a number of...failings...so there's that)

I still think I've revolutionized shower cleaning. Now you will all have to try it because, let's be honest, who hasn't tried brushing your teeth in the shower. How about those of you who have brought a beer into the shower to drink and shower? Maybe, in college perhaps, you wore some clothes into the shower and washed them as you washed yourself. Well, now you have one more thing to try!

Ummm....well, I guess if you aren't a fan of closing the door, it's easier to just not have one?

At any rate, it's wet and cold and almost wintery with a hint of thanksgiving so I hope you all (as if more than a handful of people actually read this...) find family to spend the holidays with. They won't be with you forever, so cherish them now.

~TPP

Dear Self, Please Smile More

I realize that my blog used to be cool and exciting to read...and now it just sounds like I'm a 14-year old struggling with teenage angst. Thus, in an attempt to "get back to my roots," I present to you: Pearls Before Swine.

Pearls Before Swine - Stephan Pastis, 28 October 2012

It made me laugh, softly to myself. I need to laugh more, I think. Life is too serious these days.


Live, Laugh, and Love and enjoy the coming of winter.
~The Piebald Penguin

Affirming affection
through silent tears

Boom!

There's something majestic about a ship like this. Looked for copyright info but couldn't find it

Apparently Star Trek ships are also called ships of the line. So, a lot of Star Trek stuff popped up when I was looking for pictures. The nerd in me couldn't pass the opportunity up. copyright Gregory Stewart experimation.com

When I say there's something majestic about a ship of the line, I mean to say that it is so beautiful on the water, yet so dangerous in war. Majesty then is grace and power, yes? On another note, can you imagine the sheer terror that could be produced by one broadside? The ship on the right in the foreground is the HMS Victory. A rather well-known British 1st-rate battleship. Ships of this variety were armed with anywhere from 90 to 120 heavy cannons. The lightest of these cannons fired 18-pound lead and iron projectiles. Even assuming that a 1st-rate ship had nothing heavier (the bulk of their armament would most likely be 32-pounders), that would mean that when one broadside was fired (about half of the ship's guns, so let's say 50 guns at once), there would be a flying wall of 10,000 pounds of metal jettisoned from the side of the ship. Wow.

Ummm...got a bit carried away with the captions...sorry
~Piebald
Wasting away in a deluge.
Feeling the need to indulge honesty,
but fear keeps me quiet.

Avast Ye Scalliwags!

Arrrrrgggghhhhhhh!!!!!

  

“Pirate Ship” © Leonardo Amora Leite

The story goes like this...I wanted to scream, so I made a blog post. I disguised my shout of frustration as a clever homage to the pirates of old. Then, I went in search of "pirate" pictures to complete the post, but I got carried away looking at pictures of ships. I don't believe any of these pictures are by the same person. I found a copyright for the last one, although that is not to say that the rest of these pictures don't have/deserve copyright credit. I like to give credit to people who spend any amount of time doing something.

As an aside, I was carried away by the beauty of a wooden ship with sails, floating on the roiling ocean. It makes me sigh and get all dreamy in the eyes. I know, I know. You don't need to know that, but now you do! Ha! So...yeah, that's all today.

~TPP

Puzzles

The unfinished puzzle on the flattened cardboard box resting on the floor. Netflix. Two white shirts, one has a hole in it. I can't wear it to work anymore, but I'm reluctant to throw it away because then two would be one. A green and brown Lego set. Flowers, dead and dried. A bottle of vitamin C, chapstick, no calorie soda, and a box of Christmas decorations.

I wish and I hope, does it matter? Does any of it matter? I've been meaning to blog for a while now (yes, yes, I promise to blog more basically every other post...it's not my fault....). I mean, really blog. Like, the other night, I was awake in the small hours of the night (what's new?), and I half-dreamed/half-planned three or four different posts. One would be funny, one would be educational, one would be serious, and one would be crazy. Maybe some math, definitely some comics, possibly some history or a good story from my life. Instead, I tossed and turned in my bed for two hours, passed out, then woke up and played computer games for about 12 hours (possibly more). This post, for better or worse, is going to be about everything. All of it. Every last shred of my sanity is henceforth poured into these digital letters. Because if there's anything that I've learned over the last couple years, it's this: when you feel your life slipping out of your grasp, sometimes it's better to let go. So...onward! To glory! I'll follow myself down the rabbit hole of insanity.

I had a table of interest today. Three ladies, not young yet not on their deathbeds either...well, perhaps they were. I try not to judge people who I serve, as a general rule, so please don't take it that way. They are allowed to live however they choose...but seriously...6 glasses of peach tea is...uh...a lot. And I think the other lady put at nearly twenty packets of regular sugar into her iced tea. That makes it sweet tea, right? She didn't have a Southern accent, but maybe she still developed a fondness for the drink.

She's a rose

Oh, I didn't tell all my readers that The Piebald Penguin turned 24 a few days ago (...ok a few weeks...I'm really behind). So yeah. That's a thing. I made my own cake, bought my own alcohol...and then spent time with the people I wanted to spend it with. I don't really like my birthday. I don't think it's supposed to be complicated and all that...but...well...hey, if I'm involved it's probably going to be way more complicated than it needs to be, right? Oh well.

Life should be an adventure. I read all kinds of stories. Characters in books always get to go on adventures. I think I need a vacation. I know that I know how to do a vacation properly. People tell me that they are for relaxing. For sleeping and resting and sitting. But I relax by doing things. I find peace in a plan that works out. When I fit all the pieces of the puzzle together just so. And I get to see people, go places, do things. Vacation. Yeah. No. Work, always work. The thing I can't get away from. Maybe in a few years. I'll pay off my student loans and be able to save for a year and then I can just quit it all and go somewhere. I think that's what I want to do. Buy a camera (and some new pens! I need pens desperately. It makes me sad. Maybe my christmas present to me), pack a bag, and take hulk jr somewhere he's never been before. We'll explore it together. On that note, maybe I'll find that unicorns are real, and there are pots of gold at the end of every rainbow. Sigh.

I've been told that I just need to have confidence in myself. Newsflash: I don't.

~The Piebald Penguin

Classifying Is a Pain

I decided to quit my job at the restaurant...well...I think I decided that. I'm wavering right now. I handed my manager the letter that said I would be quitting in two weeks. That was a week ago. And I was sure then. But now...now I wonder if perhaps I should just not quit. I'm good at my job, I make money, and...well, I feel like I deserve to work in the hostile environment that is fostered by my manipulative manager. Almost like penance, if you will. That seems silly and ridiculous to admit out loud, but I think it's how I legitimately feel about it. Oh, we finally ran out of dishwasher soap. I don't know how long it takes normal people to go through a box, but ours lasted for...uh....9 months. 9 months. Hmmm...There are interesting correlations attached to that number (btw, I'm trying to type with my keyboard perched on my legs, but it isn't working very well...anywho...)

I'm tired, so very tired. I try not to show it, but I feel it. I hide behind caffeine and willpower, and sometimes I even manage to hide it from myself, for a little while at least. But then the night drags on, and my thoughts turn again to the state of my mind and body. I'm tired of not knowing what's right and wrong. Tired of the war inside me. Tired of feeling like I'm always losing. Tired of not knowing what I want. Tired of lacking direction. Tired tired tire...too tired. Tired of not being able to sleep tired of waking up feeling guilty for having slept. I could drag this list out. If I wanted too. I'm sure I could think of plenty more things that I'm tired of. But, for the sake of your sanity, I will cease. Or perhaps I'm already tired of typing.

~Tpp
I don't think there will be a picture tonight

Flashing Lights and Uniforms

Oh hello Mr. Police Officer! Are we breaking the law? Causing a disturbance? In need of assistance? Oh, what's that? You don't know. You didn't find out. You just kept shining bright lights at our car. Please, grow a pair and use those words you learned in elementary school. If you don't want to go to the bother of getting out of your car, then leave us alone, please and thank you.

The best part about is, I still don't know if I was breaking the law or not. I know that I wasn't causing a disturbance. I'm almost positive he ran our plates. And then he shined his brights at us for a while. Maybe as a sign that he wanted us to leave. But we were just on the street...right across from my apartment...and we aren't under 18, so there's no curfew to worry about...who knows. The police officer finally drove off, and I waved at him. Because I am THAT guy. In truth, I like waving at police officers. And I like talking to them. I think it's important to know the men and women who keep our laws. And I think it is a great tragedy that our cities have grown so big that it is nearly impossible to know the lawmen. 

Sometimes, I dream that I live in a movie. You know, the ones where bad people come to kill a random person, and that person and their significant other run for their lives and are forced to live life on the run. Or the spy, who gets burned by his country, and has to change his identity and hide. Because I feel like I want to run...but I suppose my fear of letting people down keeps me rooted where I am. So, I need a really good reason to run. Like bad people coming to kill me. My family would understand then, right? It would be easy to explain to myself. Sigh. But, I can't run, can I? I wouldn't be me, if I ran. The Piebald Penguin looks at a police officer and waves, confident that he can talk his way out of anything. I wish it always worked out that way. Actually, I wish a lot of things. But perhaps those thoughts are best not shared with random internet viewers looking for pictures of teddy bears. 

Isn't he so cute and cuddly??

ha! Oh, alright...I'll give you a real teddy bear

See, I can't even do what I said I would do. There are clearly two bears here, but I quite distinctly used the singular form of the noun. Sigh. I always complicate things.

I'm listening to a song, over and over. "I just wanna run". And sometimes, I fool myself into believing that that's what I want. But it isn't. I don't want to run. I want to stop running. I want to catch my breath, to curl up in a warm corner and sleep, to feel and be safe. I don't want to run. I will fight. Tooth and nail. Fight for it all. I'll give up all that I consider to be me. I'm just tired of running. 

Perhaps another sleepless night in seattle
~Piebald

P.S. I must apologize for the long post. It has been a while since I have actually felt the need to write. tl;dr : Life is difficult.

P.P.S. I also apologize for the small font. I don't know why it is so small (Bet you haven't heard that before haha), but it shows up normally in the draft editor. So...yeah...sorry....

Spin Away, Babe

butsometimeswespinoutofcontrolandthereisnothingtostopusfromgettinghurt

Confidently Crushing Crates Creates Cratered Crusts of Catharsis. Callously Copying Creation Chronically Curtails Calligraphy. Readily Rotating Reduces Random Rises in Rudimentary Ruthlessness.

Yawning, yearning yesterday
~Piebald

Tears and Jeers...and Overtime(ers)...

Day 14:
As the craziness continues into the third week, I have come to realize how flawed people really are. From manipulative managers to customers who don't know when to say when, I have had a first hand glimpse of the failings of humanity. It's hectic, stressful, exhausting, and decidedly unsatisfying. Yet, in all of that, and through all of that, I have managed to find some comfort. There are still some "good" people out there. At least, there are those who are willing to stand by me and lend a hand, or a shoulder, when I find myself in need. Usually just when I think I am about to be overwhelmed and collapse, a guardian angel descends and stands me on my feet, telling me that it will be alright.

I know that some people think that my restaurant is like this, and sometimes I want to believe that it could be...

But enough about me, the more interesting stories are, by far, from the customers who make my life a living hell. (Ha) I've met people who will point to a spot on the table and tap that same spot, waiting for me to place their food in front of them. And I've had people try to grab their plates of food from my hands even though I warn them that the plates are exceptionally hot. I've known children to say their pleases and thank you's, and I've seen adults greet me with scowls on their faces and an air pretension. The stress of the job has broken some of my coworkers, bringing them to tears. There are people out there who seem to not flinch when they tip poorly, even though service was, at the very least, acceptable. And there have been people who have tipped beyond expectation. In the end, it all seems to balance out, but I still wonder if it is worth it. Are the nice people, as few and far between as they may be, worth the degradation that comes from serving people who don't deserve service from an automated machine, much less a human being? I don't know. For now, that is the question in need of an answer. Until I figure it out, I struggle on, fighting against becoming a drone.

...but let's be honest with ourselves...it's really more like this...

~TPP

Would You Like Cheese With That?

What? You would like more? Free of charge? And you've had how many breadsticks?????

Day 1:
Hello! My name is [insert name here]. May I be your slave for the next hour and a half while you stuff your face full of food? May I run for you; dance for you; sing a song? Will you remember to tip me? Oh, just a dollar? Well, I guess it's better than nothing...

Ah, yes. The joys of working in a restaurant. It's great, you willingly become someone's bitch just for the hope (a fading mirage perhaps) that the person will like you enough to give you a little something extra [insert joke that's not really a joke about how this parallels being in a relationship with a woman...]. Serving can be fun. It pays the bills, and I don't like to complain about that. But...sometimes...just sometimes I have to come home and shower. Just to feel normal again. To wash the grime away. I wish the shower was just a physical cleansing, but it really acts as a symbolic cleansing too. Washing away the grime of dealing with a certain type of person. The type that feels entitled. They are entitled to be at the restaurant. They are entitled to have everything perfect. They are entitled to make you feel like any mistakes are solely the fault of others (in particular, you). They are entitled to not wait at all (regardless of how busy the server or the restaurant is). Please don't make the mistake in believing that I am promoting a lack of standards in the service industry. There should be standards. But some people just don't understand that they aren't the most important or sole entity in the universe. It is this type of person that makes me feel gross. I feel demeaned and degraded. Worthless. Just a drone.

I bring all this up tonight because today marked the first day in a ridiculous promotion that my restaurant runs every year. And it seems to bring in a very particular group of people. This promotion runs for the next few months, so I will attempt to document my thoughts at least once a week or so. I feel that, if I don't, I will surely go crazy (this is a joke. We all know that I lost my marbles a long time ago).

Note: Today, as I watched people consume more calories in a single sitting than I get in three days, I was sorely tempted to bring them a nutrition guide and explain that the meal they were currently eating was likely to cause a heart attack. (Oh! And a happy thought to give you the warm fuzzies! Last week, the paramedics had to rush to our restaurant and save a man's life. He had a real heart attack. At my table. He was alive when he left, so I hope that he lived through the night to tell his grandchildren the story)

We should post a similar sign in our restaurant

~The Piebald Penguin

Memoirs of an Insomniac: 11

Here I sit, the moment for wishing long past. I know not where this road goes, but I will follow it until the end. Street lights, car horns, warnings of danger and distractions from the mundane. My mind wanders like a lazy cloud. My desk bears the burden of empty cans and bottles, and my chair lacks padding, apparently. The window stays open these days, but my eyes seem closed to the obvious. Please let it not be so. Comfortable, I'm not. I can't be. I won't let myself be. I seek discomfort that I may know what it is to be without. My appetite ran away from me, although I don't spend as much money on food anymore. Both Goraxypox and I tried the cookies I made and found them lacking. But two score others thought they were amazing. How much better could they have been? People express disbelief or surprise when I do something that they can't do. It's a lack of application, I do believe. And yet, the cans and bottles still rest on my desk. Washed windows willingly wear wondrous woods waiting while wind wastes women. My body is sticky. So sticky. Sweat and grease and restaurant grossness. Do I like serving? I serve no matter what I do. I serve in life, and I will probably serve in death. Music comforts my soul, and water washes the grossness away. Until the next day. The next dawn. The next storm cloud, the next bump, the next week of work.

The Charge of the Light Brigade - Painting by Mike Western

This painting seems to fit.

Tired and confused in a world of wonders.
TPP

Memoirs of an Insomniac: 10

I was having a really bad day at work today. It's not that I was performing poorly (well, I was perhaps operating sub-optimally, but even so, I know that I am still better at my job than most people who work there), but I was troubled by everything tonight. What I mean is that it seemed that everything and everyone were out to get me and were hell-bent on getting on my nerves.

About halfway through my shift I stumbled upon the issue (rather, I stumbled upon what I perceived to be the issue, although my perception may or may not be accurate). The issue at hand is this: I miss my family. Now, those of you who know me will say, "Well, of course you miss your family, Piebald. You live more than 1500 miles away from them and have only seen them once in the last six months. You've probably been missing them for a while now." To which I reply that yes, I do miss my sisters and mother and father and brother and my niece and nephews and brother-in-laws. But this feeling was something else. Because I was yearning to be with the "family" of sorts that I have up here. There are three of us in our little family: Goraxypox, Sleeping Beauty, and myself. We may live in two separate homes, but we usually spend a fair amount of time together. However, this week, our schedules have been at odds. So, I come home from work late at night to a quiet house. Goraxypox leaves the hallway light on, when he goes to bed, so that I can see when I come through the door. Sleeping Beauty works in the mornings now, so she is also slumbering in the comfort and safety of her own home. Thus, I sit, staring at my computer screen, typing on a keyboard, waiting for my  laundry to finish, and missing my family.

I hope the hours of the night pass quickly; for I yearn to spend time with the people who make this world bearable.

~The Piebald Penguin

P.S. To anyone related to me by blood, I miss you all dearly as well and hope to see you all before the year ends!

Dinner Is Served

Ingredients for dinner for 2: $25

Linen tablecloth: $10

Candles + candle holders: $8

Using a cardboard box as a dinner table: $0

Enjoying a lovely evening with someone special: Priceless

If there's one thing I've learned in life, it's that the truly amazing parts of life don't happen because you spent a lot of money. People come into the restaurant I work at looking for a "romantic evening". We seat them as far away from other people as we can and they end up paying $70-80 for dinner plus the tip. And that's mostly because they are simply too lazy to put effort into a special evening at home. The food was just as good, the atmosphere was way better and there were candles. Real candles. I strongly encourage everyone to give this a try. Whether you have a kitchen table or not, improvise and run with it. :)

~TPP

If I Were to Die Tonight...

...how long would it take for anyone to notice? My mind frequently wrestles with this question. Not that I feel like I'm in that much danger of randomly dying, so, to make it a more palatable discussion, let's rephrase the question and say: If I were to disappear tonight, who would notice? The obvious answer is that, in all reality, very few people would notice. My mom calls me on occasion, so she would probably think it's odd that I'm not returning her calls. I would give it about 3 weeks before she started to think that something fishy had happened. My employer would notice that I was missing in a day or so. I don't miss very many shifts, and certainly not without communicating first. But, ultimately, work would go on, and it would be no more than a brief inconvenience in their lives. I would be fired and forgotten about as quickly as the thought crossed her mind. Goraxypox would probably notice after a couple of days because he's my roommate, and even though he doesn't spend that much time outside the confines of his own room, I think he would eventually find it odd that I wasn't home. Sleeping Beauty would probably notice the soonest, if I didn't return text messages and phone calls.

Now, I'm not about to disappear or test my hypotheses; it just strikes as being an interesting topic because it brings forth the idea of importance. How important am I? Can I even determine my importance to people based on who would miss me? Perhaps someone at work would notice right away, someone whose life won't be affected by the removal of mine. But do the observation skills of another render me important? I am not typically someone who needs to feel important to others because I know that I am important to a select few and that is enough for me.

~TPP

A Typical Day

Art by Susan Swan

Thoughts swirl around my head like fireflies in the fading light of the evening sky. The cursor on my text message blinks, reminding me that I still haven't finished my thought. I glance at the screen and then stare off into nothingness. There is so much to say. Too much to say. Too much that can't be said or shouldn't be said.

I wrote the previous paragraph a number of months ago, but I didn't post it. I feel it still aptly describes my attempt to blog last night. I ended up writing thoughts down and posting them...and then deleting the post almost immediately because I didn't like it. I have found it to be increasingly difficult to post on my blog these days. And then I look back and remember the days when I was blogging almost non-stop. And I wonder: am I in a better place now than I was then? Was the blog simply a tool that I used to help endure the many stresses that comprised the last semester of college? If so, what should I do with my blog now? Now that it is unnecessary. Do I delete everything? Wiping away months of my life. Gone forever. Or do I leave it be, as a testament to challenges overcome? 

~TPP

Moods and More

Happiness is just one piece of French toast away. It's true. French toast, orange juice, and blueberry syrup. It's simple. It's easy. It's not even that unhealthy for you. It turns frowns upside down (I really abhor this cliche) and makes the sunshine superfluous. But is it the tasty toast that tints the world in happiness? Or is it the effort that was put into creating it? Oh, it didn't require that much effort, to be sure. There were no herculean feats performed. An hour of preparing and cooking and then the tasty toast pieces are popped into my mouth and there are smiles all around the apartment. So...do I have a point? Other than to blabber about the delicious delicacy that was breakfast today? Yes.

My point is this: Maybe you can't cook; or write; or dance; or whatever it is that you don't think you can do. Maybe you can. The actual finished product can be more than what it is if you simply put effort into it. Conscious thought. I do like the following idiom: The devil is in the details. It's true. If you put time and effort into the little things, then you will enjoy life more.

Pardon my French...toast.

 Seriously...who doesn't like French toast?? If you don't like it, leave a comment below so that I can never ever talk to you again. (just kidding. I will just be forced to change your mind for you)

~The Piebald Penguin

Memoirs of an Insomniac: 9

I frequently lie awake at night and ponder the concept of sleep. Tonight, I suppose, is no different. I recently spent time in another state, visiting friends and sleeping on a couch. I didn't get a lot of sleep because the friends I was staying with were early risers (7 is early to me haha). I don't have a problem with this. I may not have gotten a lot of sleep (and the little sleep I got wasn't truly deep sleep), but I had a good time and learned a few things about myself. No, it wasn't the lack of sleep I got the last couple of days, it was the coming home and being very tired and then working for several hours and still not being able to sleep. By all accounts, I should be exhausted enough to pass out, but it just doesn't happen. My body seems to fight sleep, as if sleep were an illness. An awful, terrible, no good, very bad disease of the mind. I haven't even had that much caffeine tonight. I still believe that one day...someday...I will learn how to sleep. For now, it's going to be another late night for The Piebald Penguin



Wishing for the Land of Dreams
~TPP

Goraxypox Puts Another Year in the Grave

Today is a big day! It's the celebration of the birth day of Goraxypox. Just think, a mere 24 years ago, he was a mere babe in swaddling clothes. And now he's all grown up and everything (*sniffle*). It brings tears to my eyes...oh wait, no, that's just the trash. Anywho....cheers to him! You should all celebrate with us by having a drink with a friend you've known for really long time. :)

~The Piebald Penguin

Higher and Higher

Today, I went rock climbing for the first time in a long while. Perhaps, to the casual reader, that means very little, but to me, that statement means a lot. What's more, I paid for a 30 day pass to the rock gym, the hope being that that will convince me to go back on a regular basis. There are activities in everyone's life that bring that person back to normal, if you will. Rock climbing is such an activity for me. It helps keep me grounded (pun intended!). Not only is it healthy for the body (I know this because I'm always sore afterwards, and that means it's good for you, right? If it hurts?), it is healthy for the mind too. It gives me something to work towards. Goals and challenges. And it makes me feel good because I am a decent climber, and I know that I can go to the gym and be at least average (even without having been there for so long).

You know, just me having a relaxing day on the wall. No big deal...

Now, why do I bring all this up? Because, as I said, it's been a while since I've been climbing, and I think this has been a mistake. It's good to find something you're good at and then to do that thing. And it's good to find activities that keep you grounded in reality. When life gets complicated, it's nice to know that I have somewhere to go. A healthy outlet for my emotions. Climbing is this for me.

What do you do to feel normal?

~The Piebald Penguin

Memoirs of an Insomniac: 8

What is life save for a mess of experiences and challenges to be overcome? I am fond of saying that we live and learn. Few things are truer than this. As life progresses, we learn who we are and of what we are capable. In all things, we are capable of great hurt to others or great kindness. And these are the lessons that everyone must learn. It is, quite frankly, what the concept of maturity revolves around. Human to human and human to environment, a mature person learns how to interact with his (or her!) surroundings. When not to hold the tongue or turn off the faucet. When a soft word will solve a problem that an angry word would merely inflame.

Maturity and responsibility seem to come later in life to some than to others. Perhaps those people merely experience less in the same amount of time, so it takes them longer to learn their lessons. Or, perhaps some are more sensitive to the lessons that need to be learned. This is, in my opinion, closer to the truth. But who is to say?

Speaking of maturity and responsibility...guess who has to be up in 5 hours for a 10-hour work day?!?? (at this point The Piebald Penguin dissolves into a fit of hysterical laughter and points at himself...)

This is not The Piebald Penguin at work. The Piebald Penguin is waaaayyyy better looking. And he doesn't have the luxury of sitting down at work. Because that's nonsense. Everyone knows that it's healthy to stand on your feet for long periods of time. It builds character. The Piebald Penguin has lots of that already, but the more the merrier, right?

Go to sleep!
~The Piebald Penguin

A Lesson Learned a Little Late in Life

You know those days where you wake up and realize that you should have done things differently the night before? I had one of those mornings today. I learned the hard way that my body does not react well to binge drinking...ok, ok, it reacts incredibly poorly to binge drinking. So, I got to spend the day recovering from that and cleaning up after my night of wildness. I now have a new household cleaning product (for the floors) and clean sheets and a clean toilet. Which aren't bad things by themselves, it just would have been nice if I had had little more forethought last night. But, I suppose the saying goes, "Live and learn." And I am alive, and I learned my lesson.

~The Piebald Penguin

Memoirs of an Insomniac: 7

Let's talk about motivation. Usually I'm rather unmotivated to do anything I don't want to do. This results in me staying in bed until 3 in the afternoon (assuming I don't have to get up for work), playing computer games until 3 in the morning, and, in general, just not doing much of anything (like dishes). But when I'm motivated, I tend to switch into a hyper-productive mood, and I just get things done. Like today.

It was my day off, and I had decided to just stay in bed. For hours and hours. I was being lazy, but, let's be honest, I didn't have anything to do, so there was no reason for me to get up. And then, when the clock read 1:31pm, there was a flurry of activity. In a mere 11 minutes, I had gotten out of bed, showered, brushed my teeth, payed the water bill, dressed, and walked out to my car. In 11 minutes, I went from being an inert object on a moderately comfortable sleeping device to an energized and refreshed individual ready to meet the day head on. All it took was a little motivation. I'm constantly amazed by how much I can accomplish when I'm actually motivated.

~TPP

Elmer's Press and Punches from the Sun

I was driving to work the other day, and I had the pleasure of pulling up behind a moving truck that had definitely seen better days. It was a rental truck from a small company that I didn't recognize. Fortunately, it had an advertisement for itself on the truck. So I took a picture.

Really, I just love the URL. Because you know that it's supposed to be "Elmer's Express", but since URLs don't have punctuation, it looks like "Elmer Sex Press". It made me laugh.


Oh, and in other news....there was supposed to be a large solar storm yesterday. A solar flare erupted on the surface of the sun on Sunday sending a whole lot of radioactive particles toward the earth. The radiation was supposed to disrupt GPS systems and other communications, but I didn't really notice anything odd. Still, an interesting thing to note is that the earth has a fairly good defensive barrier that protects all us pathetic life forms from all this nasty business. Something to be thankful for.

~TPP

Memoirs of an Insomniac: 6

"The Sun goes down, the stars come out..." Unless you're The Piebald Penguin...in which case there should be an additional phrase: "and the stars faded in favor of the light from the burning sunrise." Or something like that.

Do you ever say something (whether verbally or in written form) and then instantly regret saying it? And then spend the next half an hour trying to explain why you said what you said, when the answer should have just been "yes" to begin with? Dwelling on such thoughts seldom return a positive yield, yet such thoughts are what keep me awake into the wee hours of the morning. You know the sad thing about all this? It doesn't even really matter. I mean, not in the long run. Probably not in the less-than-long run either. It is what is.

It's the small things that make or break the day. I like to think that I deal with most day-to-day stress decently well because I am pretty good at taking pleasure in the small things. Like drinking cheap grape soda. Or, when I'm at working, helping a server who's nice to me. It's these small things that get me through each day. The placement of jacket next to mine, a parked car. I think it helps that I like symbols. Even if no one else sees life the way I do. I like to find the hidden meaning in something. More importantly, I like to have a hidden meaning behind my actions. Which is not a segue into my next paragraph...

My manager asked me a great question at work today. I was doing my job, bussing a dirty table and setting silverware on it, when my manager turned away from her previous conversation and said, "Piebald, you're still here?" I looked at her, then down at myself, and then back at her, and then back at myself again. And I replied with (something to the effect of), "Uh...." But my thought process was something like this..."Of course I'm still here. Where else would I be? I think the fact that we're having this dialogue is indicative of the answer to your question. I am physically present, yes...but mentally I'm elsewhere. Are you blind? Yes, I don't leave without permission, and you have yet to provide me with said permission." It was a silly question. Who did she think I was? Probably Tadpole (that's not his name...but it is an anonymous blog for a reason...) Tadpole frustrates the managers because he sometimes leaves without making sure it's ok with the managers. Oh Tadpole. He's quite the character. He's likeable enough, but he isn't really very good at his job. Which is slightly infuriating because it's not a difficult job. But if he doesn't do his work, then those of us who work with him have to pick up his slack. Because it looks bad on all of us. So, really, we should be able to fire/hire people. If we're going to get flack for having a weak link, then we should be able to break that link and reforge the chain...hopefully stronger than before. I suppose that's essentially social evolution.

After spending fifteen minutes looking through lolcats picutres, this is the one I decided on. Because it's awesome. Yep.

~The Piebald Penguin

Hark! Holidays Hear Happy Hearths and Haggard Harpies

Happy New Year and Merry Christmas!

I know, I know. I haven't posted ANYTHING recently. And you've all been waiting patiently for the next story, or joke, or anything that is remotely amusing. And I know I missed my deadline for reaching 150 posts (like big time missed it. I think I'm more than 30 posts short and it's the 3rd week of January? Yep.) but I'm back from an extended break! Hopefully there will be a more regular schedule (I also know that I say this a lot and then it never happens. *Fingers crossed*)

So, what have you all missed from my life? Well, the week before Christmas was just crazy at work. I had the pleasure of working Christmas Eve and let me tell you how that went. IT WAS RIDICULOUS. Ok, there I said it. It really was. The restaurant was a mess by the end of the night. We had so many large parties come in that night. Which I don't really understand. If you have all your family together, why don't you all get together and cook a big meal? Or a small meal? Why go out to a chain restaurant that serves overpriced food? Anyways, it doesn't matter because it's over now.

Christmas was incredibly pleasant. Just me and Goraxypox in our apartment. I cooked up some steaks for dinner, played Skyrim for a few hours and then did laundry. Oh yeah. Because Christmas day was technically just one of my days off that week, and I was working so much that I had to wash my clothes on every day off that I had.

The week after Christmas was worse than the week prior to Christmas. It was busy, busy, busy, and I worked a lot and didn't have much time for anything else. And then New Year's came and went in a flash. And it's just been work as usual for the last couple of weeks.

Until this week when it SNOWED. So, that's made life interesting. The streets are icy and crashes are common. Getting to work has become an adventure.

And that's been my life, as of late.
Stay frosty!
~The Piebald Penguin