I GOT A J.O.B.!!!!!!!!!!!!

Can you believe it? After 13 months of searching, networking, begging and pleading I finally have a job…paying money! Well, it’s not exactly in my field of expertise. I will be an administrative assistant. But I’m sure my organizational skills and general positive outlook on life will be just what these people need in the office. I’m still not out of the financial hot water yet. I will need customers for FASiT now more than ever. So I want you people to get on the phones and call everyone you know and let them know about my Friendly Applied (computer) Solutions Technology, damnit!! I can pay the mortgage with the new job I just need a little extra money to eat!!!!!!!!!!!

Sorry if I have been neglecting the old journal. I have been VERY busy over the last couple of weeks. After getting two parking tickets I made it my goal to get out of the house. When I was getting ready to pay one of the $50 tickets I noticed that the city of Chicago had left me a little gift, ANOTHER ticket for not having a current city sticker! So I got two parking tickets and two sticker fines for a grand total of $220! Oh, getting the sticker from city hall and the fine were an additional $105. I could have gone on holiday for that kind of money! So I have made it my business to get out of the house everyday so I know when to move my car. In the process I have been doing all kinds of stuff. My company FASiT is official. I have my DBA (Doing Business As) under that name. I’ve been working on getting some government money to take a project management class and I am putting together yet another application for a government job. I do enjoy punishment.

There are several other things on my plate but these are the biggies. So if I don’t write in the journal for a while you know it’s for a good reason. Oh yeah, I got three free weeks at Bally’s so I am also trying to get back in shape. I have been writing my journal in the morning but I think I will be changing that schedule to the evening. I just don’t have the time anymore. Because babies, I’m out da’ do’!

That important thing, yes, that important thing when you both see eye to eye. It’s a rare thing but a necessary thing that let’s you put all the other trivial (and sometimes not so trivial) things aside. It was the one thing between my father and me that I felt made us both responsible men to each other and to everyone else. I distinctly remember the first time my father and I went to the local poling place to do what so many others were doing that day. So routine to most but for my dad and me it was something special. I knew where my father came from, a small southern town. He lived through a period in this countries history that most of us today would rather not think about. A time when you couldn’t use the same bathroom as those “other” people or eat in the same location as those “other” people. A time when you wouldn’t mind being treated like a second class citizen because the second class citizens had it better than you did.

I knew all those things because I could see it in his eyes and hear it in his voice. That ineffable something that is always there, proud but cautious. Because where he has been most of us have not been and have no idea where that is or would ever want to go. As proud as my father is he lives with the constant (and sometimes real) knowing that it can all be taken away if those “other” people really want to exercise their power. His small voice, his one voice, not loud not protesting but it was what he had and it was what he gave me that day so many years ago. When I was a child my dad would take me with him down to the same poling place where he would disappear behind some curtain that reminded me of the curtain in the Wizard of Oz where some seemingly powerful voice was coming from such a small man. That was my dad! When my dad and I went to cast our votes for the first time together I felt the booming and thundering of my own voice from behind the curtain and a kinship with my father that I had felt very few times before. Most people have this feeling that, “It doesn’t mean anything” or “It’s too much trouble.” I guess I am fortunate because I never saw it as a chore or something worthless. I must be one of the fortunate ones because I look forward to that one day every couple of years when I can relive that feeling of watching my dad become a little more powerful than he normally is and knowing I could be as strong as my dad in a world that often doesn’t give you anything.

I got one thing to say. YOU BETTA’ VOTE! Get off your collective asses, go to the polls and cast your vote. ESPECIALLY my brotha’s and sistah’s out there who should have a strong appreciation and reverence for those who came before us. Some even sacrificing their lives just for us to exercise our rights as American citizens to vote.

As I live and breathe I will never understand people who live in a society that enables us to periodically change our government without the need for bloody revolution. Remember, if we continue on this declining pattern of failing to vote we could find ourselves with an administration that does not care about women’s rights or energy conservation, on the verge of war and in a recession. Something to think about.

Well gang, I braved yet another appointment at the VA hospital yesterday. That’s Veteran’s Administration for those of you who are not familiar. It’s where us poor old vets go for health care. No major issues to handle but my doctor thought I should get my eyes checked for glaucoma now that I am officially OVER the proverbial hill of 35. It would seem that after you cross that imaginary boundary the warranty expires on EVERYTHING! Eyes, knees, heart, prostate, etc. So back to yesterday’s appointment. I’m perched in the waiting room thinking it will be a relatively quick affair because I actually have an appointment (silly me, nothing is fast in a government facility) and I am surrounded by a bunch of men who look like they have outlived their own expiration date! There were at least two World War II veterans there! Anyway, I was just getting ready to completely zone out with my walkman and a good book when I overheard some of the conversation that was taking place. Old men are some of the funniest people I have ever met. Can we talk!?

I was originally drawn into the conversation because they were giving some pretty good health advice about high blood pressure, diabetes, and heart disease. Hey, these guys have lived through all of this stuff and they know. I figured I should listen since I have high cholesterol and one of the guys was four years older than me and was a heart attack survivor! ANYWAY, that conversation migrated into stories of getting laid. Don’t even ask me how. The funniest man had to be about 75 to 80 years old and he was telling stories about when he was on some island in the pacific and standing in line for some prostitute along with 100 other sailors. Well that just opened the door for all the other old coots to relate all the places they received the clap. Korea, Japan and the Philippines were all markers on one sailors list! They were all funny as hell! I have several uncles who are about the same age as these gentlemen (and I use the term loosely) but none of them are as funny. I guess because I’m their nephew they probably feel they can’t relate such stories. Maybe I should break the ice and tell them some of my own stories. Hmm… Now that I think of it, maybe not! I don’t want to be the cause of death for any of my uncles!!!