unknownfate: (cat says 'riiiiight')
So, I'm watching last season of Join or Die with Craig Ferguson and it's the episode about cult leaders. Craig said something about the problems that arise from people being so certain that they were right and everyone else was wrong. I think it was the word certainty that got my attention because that's what I remember praying for when I was a teenager. That was the word I used.

I remember being scared and worried and not knowing what to do. I was very smugly told by several people that I should pray about it, and teenage me did. I prayed to be made certain of what I should do and what I should believe. I needed a sign, just something to convince me that I was on the right track and that I didn't have to be so afraid.

I never got one, but I did get older and saw more things and met more people and it started to occur to me that the people who had been so sure of themselves when I was younger were definitely afraid of something. They wouldn't look at certain things, or talk about them, or even acknowledge that such things existed somewhere in the world. This time, I was more-severely-than-smugly told that they would pray for me.
unknownfate: (pinky hurt you)
It is so hot....

I have boxes of books to carry maybe 10 yards, but it involves going out into the crippling heat and I keep coming up with excuses to wait until evening when the Yellow Eye that Burns and Blinds is back behind the trees.

Also, passed a former workplace and had a flashback to one of my bosses there. I had three different bosses the year I worked there. Two were nice: one asked me out and I was tempted, but dating your supervisor at work would've been awkward (turns out that so is turning down your supervisor at work. yeesh), the other was a perky chatterbox, but the third, oh the third was such a pain.

He was five years younger than me. Wore a visor upside down. Sang 'The Thong Song' whilst practicing his imaginary golf swing in between customers. He was full of double entendres and once very solemnly informed me that reading books 'is for boring people with no lives'. Also had himself a breakdown when somebody keyed his heavily decal-ed truck. (I swear it wasn't me. I plotted damage to the boy himself, not his ride.)

But. As much as I would've liked to lock him in the walk-in freezer at the time, today I couldn't even remember his name. It might've been Kevin... or Jason. I don't remember! I remember the other two, the nice two. I even kinda remember the guy they brought in from another store to work with me one day when we were short-handed, with the red hair, and tie-dye, and the tattoos. He was nice. I appreciate nice. I remember nice.


unknownfate: (Default)

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