Weeks Notice

June 24th, 2018

I gave that temp agency a week’s notice working at this soda warehouse. My body is done with this place.

It’s not a career move and I want to get into tech work. Stuff that I have been applying for months without luck, but do I keep going to this job making almost nothing, working a lot of hours and it’s not part of any upward move career-wise? Or stay, collect $200 a week working 50+ hours and too tired to get my school work done?

I don’t think I’ll be unemployed for long. The ‘just take anything’ isn’t smart anymore. I said this before — until I just needed something. Now that I just ‘got a job’, it sucks and it conflicts a little with school.

Life choices suck for the financially strapped.

Legacy

June 15th, 2018

I should be sleeping but I’m annoyed.

My mother. I don’t talk about her much here. She’s still living in New York and we just recently became friendly. She’s of the type and age that to be friends with, you either have to say nothing to her or keep your conversations brief.

In the past, we’ve been contentious with each other. Never agreed on anything and she never really believed I was adult enough on decisions or the ability to do things. Seemed it shocked her that I wrote a book.

Lately, as long as it’s hi and goodbye from texting, we’ve been good. When I started school, I didn’t tell her. I revealed my ambitions only after I started getting awards. You see, if I told her I was going back to school I wasn’t going to get anything encouraging. She’s the type that encourages only after evidence of success. Now, if you waited only for your child to succeed at things before you believed in them, well, that would be a problem.

She would bring up things in the past that I gave up on. True … I started and stopped things in her mind, like, when I was between 5 years old and age 16. I don’t think my track record with finishing projects is any worse than anyone else. I know I had trouble executing things…but always tried. Honestly, I have a lot more successfully finished things than I tell her because she just doesn’t deserve to know. If you weren’t with me when I started…

Anyway, she’s selling the family house. A place in Jamaica Queens that was first bought by my grandparents, her parents, back in the 40′s. She grew up in that house. When my grandmother died, she took over and it rotted from the inside. She sent m,e pictures recently and I couldn’t believe the way she let it fall apart. I’ll post pictures later. It was horrible.

So, she’s selling it as is. The last I spoke to her about the whole selling process was she was going to sell it, living in a small apartment and then move to Vermont to retire. I don’t even think that plan is happening because I don’t think she got the money she wanted for the place. She’s not telling me but there are holes in what she tells me that make me feel her plans aren’t happening as she would like and now she’s out of what was the family house. The place that was supposed to be passed down.

I didn’t agree to her plan of selling the place but I didn’t tell her that. With my mother, you can’t discuss things with her because she only listens to whom she deems ‘smart’. In her mind, I’m not one of them.

Her only son, by the way.

She’s the originator of those in my life that don’t listen to my advice, but more than willing to hear the SAME advise from someone else who either has money or whomever she believes in. I’m very sensitive to people like that in my life. Very resentful of people that do that to me. Discounting what I have to say in favor of same or BAD advice from others. My ex did that a lot.

So, I had to watch the sale of this place happen before my eyes. And it gets worse. She only moved five houses down to someone basement apartment and she’s giving away a lot of the furniture and paintings that were in our family …well, since the 40′s. Stuff that was legacy of our family. Things that mattered to me. In that house, I wrote my greatest stories. Had many of my first experiences.

All gone. Without even asking me what I thought or should do.

So, I should be sleeping but I want to cry. I want to yell. I want to blow up on my mother for, yet again, not listening.

The question is: did I speak?

The answer is no.

I did not.

I did not question her judgment. I did not ask her questions to challenge her decisions. I did not ask her to save anything for me because I love and miss my grandparents. Why?

Because I sacrificed the legacy for the comfortable relationship with my mother we’ve had this past year. We were not fighting. We were not angry. She genuinely cared about my academic success and I finally got my mother to love me for my accomplishments.

That’s no way to live. To only speak to your family ‘in a certain way’ in order to have a relationship with them. When it’s time to speak to them openly, you can’t. I missed an opportunity to salvage my grandparent’s things. I regret that.

You see what this journal is all about. It isn’t just about me making a highly probable shot at going to law school. It’s the regeneration of a once deflated, depressed man making global changes in his life by being aware of his failings and what needs to be changed. In order to get there, the raw unfiltered ‘who I am’ needs to be revealed, addressed and reshaped. Most of all, documented.

The documentation is for me to purge my thoughts. A therapeutic move.

But mostly for you. Someone who might be trying to dig your way out of a hole of depression and your life needs changes. Maybe even suicidal as I have been, and want to see if I can make it, so can you. Change is possible.

I am not the same man that started this journal last year. Lord knows I am not the same man from years ago. With academia and learning the guitar (by the way, I also started ‘Fender Play’ to practice with intentions of getting ‘in class’ tutorials in a few weeks. The guitar is going to arrive next Tuesday), archery coming back again and joining this tech frat, “who am I” is a fair question. Certainly not last years guy.

That said, what did I learn from this experience with my mother?

I need to save my family home. I’m told it’s sold already. Right now is a good time to win the lottery. I’m playing first thing I can today.

Aside from that, I keep doing what I always have been doing with my life and my children. For me, making greater strives to be a better man. For them, talking to them honestly and letting them speak to me openly. No judgments. I save everything they make or give me. I have stuff they made for me since they were babies. A form of legacy items. I’m saving things of my own I will pass down to them.

The guitar will be one of many guitars I think I’m going to buy. The bow is another. Then there are the comic books, figurines, collectibles, etc, etc. LOL.

Working on actual ‘money’.

I need a family home of my own.

Some place they can come to and know they can get a fresh start, or recharge. A place they can always go to as comfort.

As of right now, I do not have that. My family home safety net is gone.

I will have a home that will be our family legacy.

You can guarantee that.

Making Money

May 23rd, 2018

You owe me a dollar from a previous post.

The job is still going. Almost quit the first night, but got back on the saddle the second night and now moving toward a third. It’s a really easy job and I was just complaining because my feet were killing me. Just using muscles I haven’t used in awhile.

Essentially, I’m maintenance. I sweep this soda warehouse for 8-12 hours while guys zip around on electric pallet jacks picking orders. With the summer upon us, soda is big business (apparently) and there is lots of work. No, I mean LOTS of work. People who start this job usually quit and they seek more people all the time. They were surprised I came back but I realize my job is the ultimate in simplicity and I thank God for it. I truly thank the lord for it. He knew this was the job I needed and mentally could do. WITHOUT Zoloft.

You know my aversion to people, right? With this job, I come in and sweep the floor. Maybe even mop here and there. I don’t have to talk to anyone. The full-time workers there have quota’s to make (so many pallets of soda on trucks by a certain time). They get paid per pallet or something like that so they have no time to talk to me. I clean up spills and sweep the broken pallet wood from the floor so they don’t get slowed down.

Easy fucking peesy. $12.00 an hour to sweep floor, plus time and a half for overtime and they often ALWAYS go 12-16 hours a night.

Weekends off.

Like I said, at first, I was going to quit because I was a pussy. My feet were swollen the first night. My legs were killing me. I was looking at getting out at 4am and I was bitching like a bitch. Drove home almost crashing the car I was so sleepy.

After a personal struggle that morning to stop being a pussy, I decided to go back to work the next day and I think it impressed some of the guys. They apparently seen people come and go. I hear them talking about people who didn’t come back. I’m even on a “hi” “bye” thing with some of the guys. It’s social baby steps.

At first, I thought my job was non essential. I’m not trying to make my job any bigger than it is, but I was told by a guy last night that he appreciated the work I was doing because it helps him and the other guys out. When there is soda all over the place and wood and the place is a mess, they can’t get the job done fast as they need.

I walk around at my own pace, sweeping like ‘old Leroy’; mopping when I need to mop, picking up cans, emptying trash. My math is bad, but I think I came up with $150-$160 per night for 11 hour shift (after lunch). That’s overtime (time and ½). Five day shifts and I get paid weekly around $750-800 a week. After taxes and child support (grrr) about $500 a week.

Can I live with that? Fuck yes. It’s free money to walk, sweep and shut the fuck up. I’m working out the leg and foot pains which will turn into firm muscle sooner than later (lugging around steel toed shoes all night).

My first check is next week Friday. It’s already Wednesday of my first week. I don’t lead anyone. I don’t need to talk to anyone. Not even management talks to me. I have no responsibilities other than sweeping a damn floor and I was going to quit???? This is why I keep this journal. I need to document my potential fuckery.

Is it a professional job? Like tech support, or working in a law office? No. My pride was hurting a little in the beginning. But it’s money. Legit, bill paying, child support lowering, cash saving, credit paying off cash flow that I’m getting in my pocket for standing on my feet rather than at home playing video games and bitching about how broke I am because nobody is reading my work. I’m not working on ANY projects so money is just going directly to the necessary things of life. Like my children finally.

Except every now and then. On my second paycheck (around the 9th of June), I’m taking my wife down to Savannah. She liked it down there when I was researching for a book I was writing. I’ll be happy to take her knowing it can be ‘my treat’. I’m off weekends so why not.

Still going to school. Still going to take the paralegal classes.

I’ll push through and adapt to these long hours for a few months before I start it. I couldn’t do it right now if I tried. Way too tired after work.

The good news is I’m adapting. The first night was hell. The second night was better. Tonight will be a walk in a sore park.

Tightrope

December 24th 2017

Did not get a write-up at Walmart. Walked in Thursday, worked Friday and Saturday — no sit downs. No ‘come to the office’ Nothing. I think it was because I ‘did’ tell a supervisor I was leaving (even though they considered him a low ranking supervisor). Well played on my part.

So, my schedule was 7-4 on Saturday. I’m off today (Sunday). You know I hate working full shifts on a Saturday. The zoo is in full swing.

And you might also want to know they (management) don’t want me to come in early anymore. I was coming to work at 3AM, leaving at noon to avoid the scum. They wanted me to stop doing that in order to have me around for the full shift when they are there.

Now, when I left Friday at 4pm, the shelves were practically empty. The people that come to this store — maybe all Walmart’s — are in this scavenger mode. I’m at this point where I can put ANY toy out and watch it vanish from the shelves. Last minute buyers are insane.

To be honest, the problem is what I mentioned earlier: adults feeling they need to buy a child in their family a ‘gift’, all look like they are laboring to do so. I watch these fools come through the department all day —- looking like they would rather not spend the money or play that ‘I don’t know what I’m looking for’ business. Today. In the world of internet access. You’re going to tell me you don’t know what the fuck you’re looking for? You certainly know how to jump on Facebook or twitter or find what store has your damn Jordan’s at.

The majority of adults shopping for children hate doing it and when they do buy something, it’s usually not what the kid wanted because they didn’t try to put any effort into it. Then you know what happens next: returns. Lots and lots of returns.

So, back to what happened …

With the shelves empty on Friday, and I know I have plenty of toys in the back room, and I know the overnight crew is NEVER efficient enough to put out the amount of toys I need them to do, I listened to my conscience and got there at 12:30AM to stock out as many toys as possible and help with the 12-shopping carts of returns.

Fuck ‘em. it’s my department. I do as I see fit.

So, I’m expected to leave at 10AM. They (management) is coming at me at 9AM wondering why I came in early.

It’s fucking two days before Christmas. Why the FUCK wouldn’t I? Especially if I’m off on Sunday and not coming in to do the freight.

Maybe, when I’m long gone, I hope someone from Walmart reads this and holds some sort of sympathy for a worker that gave a damn. Ha! Unlikely.

The upside: I cleared 8 of my bins in the backroom. The official bins, not the bins they randomly shoved toys into.

If they have any common sense, they’ll have all the toys taken out of the excess bins and off the pallets and onto the shelves last night. That should have been the focus for the past three nights but what the fuck do I know?

This is why I titled this entry ‘tightrope’. I’m playing a dangerous game with Walmart. Testing their authority against the right thing to do. If I DIDN’T come in, they wouldn’t have had toys on the shelf. Well, it’s not like I filled it ‘all’ … I’m just saying they wouldn’t have had as much as they did because I put out a lot of toys. Yes, ‘a lot is quantifiable.’

The problem with NOT talking about Walmart is, at this time, it’s the only job I have. School is on Christmas break until Wednesday. Walmart has dominated my life until whatever the future holds with this Bachelor’s degree. At the moment, it’s all I have.

By the way, the academic adviser never got back to me about changing majors. I probably missed her before she went on the break. Wednesday, my second class on Criminal Justice begins and I’m just wondering if it’s too late for me to make the switch to Digital Investigations. We’ll see.

Yesterday, I hired a local maid service to come through and clean the place. In the previous marriage, at the house I once lived in, we used a rent-able maid service almost on a weekly basis. At first, I was uncomfortable with it. After a few weeks, I was spoiled with it.

I guess that’s the reason I’m trying to have some understanding for my wife right now. She didn’t look comfortable with having people over cleaning her place.

So, one might suggest if your uncomfortable with people cleaning your place — why not clean it yourself. Save the money. Her cleaning aptitude — or maybe even her will to want to clean — is on the low end of the spectrum.

Me? I don’t mind cleaning, but the more I’m working and studying, the less I have the energy to do anything else. Same for her. I especially wanted the place cleaned for when the kids get here.

They did a great job. Mostly wiped down, vacuumed and tightened up the joint. Go into the corners of the bathroom we often overlook. Made it semi-showroom ready for guests. Even the bathroom towels and toilet paper were folded in hotel style corners. That was a sweet touch. I’ll call them back in a few weeks. Maybe once a month, you know?

So yes. I’m in a lifestyle shift where I’m hiring people to clean my place, making Christmas happen for the kids (each of them have a gift including my wife this year), everyone has medical insurance. I have money in the bank and in my pocket. I have 401(k) still at Apple and at Walmart. I’m happy (today) with a solid academic track record. Should I be fucking with Walmart’s authority if, indeed, half of my happy life is based on Walmart’s payroll?

It’s a leap of faith for me to say ‘my happy life is based on ME and changes I made’ … particularly when ‘me’ doesn’t pay ‘me’ $15.00/hr. Am I happy because I have money or because I’m improving my life?

Well, let’s break it down and tally the score based on HAVE MONEY/IMPROVED LIFE:

School was paid for 100% by federal loans. Not ONE dime out of pocket — to which I am grateful. If I had to pay out of pocket, I wouldn’t have been able to go. (Have Money)

I purposely made sure I paid off whatever previous payments in order for me to successful get the federal loans to go back to school. If I didn’t willingly focus on paying those off, I wouldn’t have been able to get the federal loans. (Improved Life)

My credit score went up TEN POINTS this month. (Improved Life)

I had the money to make payments to past bills to get my score to start rising. (Have Money)

I’m more than likely going to graduate in 2020 (Improved life)

My children are covered medically (Improved life) (Have money)

The more I look at this list, the reality is showing it’s not really the old saying “Money can’t bring you happiness.” Money and life improvement/happiness is a symbiosis cycle. One lives off of and reacts to the other.

I can have money, but be a drug dealer and always looking over my shoulder all the time (stressed), buying expensive cars, but needing to carry a gun at all times. It’s what I do to make money and how I use it.

I can have money, working at Walmart making $15/hr, dealing with asshole customers and management (stressed) and focused on dong the best for my family, paying off bills; and be happy.

or …

I can have money, but be a drug dealer and look out for my community and my family. Keeping a low key lifestyle and doing what’s right for others with the money I make. Very cautious and paranoid, but happy.

I can have money working at Walmart, spending my money on things other than my family or drinking it away. Always in debt and behind in my rent and other bills.

There is no right or wrong. If I had the tolerance to duck and dodge the federal government, law enforcement and people that wanted to steal my money, I’d be a drug dealer in a heartbeat. Still spending the money on improving my family without expensive cars. Well, no. I’d buy a corvette or a Tesla. Why? Cause I can imagine the stress of living daily with the assumption of getting killed or going to prison the next day is a ‘get it now before it’s too late’ kind of lifestyle.

At my age, I’m doing the right thing right now.

I just need to tweek it a bit. Somehow, more money would be nice. over the next few years while going back to school — without trying to be a drug dealer, thank you.

OH YES! Almost forgot. I started writing a script for a 30-page short film. For who? For me. After seeing ‘The Last Jedi’, which I was very disappointed in, the feeling I got was … I need to do a film of my own. So, I started writing something based on older characters I wrote about before. Something I can contain in limited locations and expense. The idea is I will start building film-making equipment and look to do something in the spring.

Where did that come from, right? I thought I abandoned film-making in favor of a serendipitous (holy shit! I spelled that right on the first go!) lifestyle through academic means. Well, like I said before — I’m doing so well in school, I feel I can get ANYTHING done.

Positive Chess Moves: Life & Career

I hate to call what I’m doing at Walmart a ‘career’. Each time I think of it, I cringe. But what about my writing? An age-old question. Right now, I’m putting an image of a certain amount of money I want saved in my head. A target goal. I didn’t write down what that amount was yet. I foresee, though, I will likely achieve whatever it is by simply ignoring my passion for awhile.

With Walmart …

Today, I confronted the regional manager for my department and told him I’m interested in doing more. We went over my prior history (Department manager to assistant) and he said, if he knew about my experience, I would have went straight to department manager instead of an associate.

So, he asked me to text him my info, which I did. In all this, read: one more leap frogging motion in the great chess game of more money. If this man is true to his word, I might be a department manager in a month or so. Knowing that he’s too busy and will forget, I’ll revisit this later when I see him again.

At this point, I’d be happy with any department. The point is to prove my skills to move onto the assistant manager position. After that, the more money move forward whatever it may be.

The plan in Walmart is not to sit still. I can’t make the mistake others made of continued rising without any substance, though. I’ll need to master where ever I’m at, for the time I’m there, then keep moving.

An example of poor movement:

At Walmart, there is a woman I work with that is the chief know-it-all of the department. She’s aware of all the little details and quick to tell you what you’re doing wrong. She’s a pest in many ways. You can always see her watching what you’re doing out the corner of your eyes.

She’s been with the company long enough. Not sure how long. I’ve concluded today that she’s of the ‘smartest person in the room’ syndrome. You know that kind of person who knows all the answers of Jeopardy …. sitting in the bar answering the questions.

A person like that will NEVER leave the bar.

Why should they? They are always called upon to answer questions. Always needed and smarter than the rest of the drunks. Ask that person to go be a rocket scientist and they won’t. Why leave the comfort of being the smartest person in the room? Even if the room is a bar and they will go no higher.

That’s exactly this chick.

I think of her when I’m looking at being a department manager sooner than later.

I think of her when I start feeling bad that maybe she should be a department manager before me.

I have to think of that girl when I become a department manager and I beat out others who should have gotten the position. It’s not about anyone but my own directive. Sucks for them if they didn’t run up on the regional and show initiative.

I want more.

With School …

It’s going to really start in another week. What I’ve been doing now is more of advanced orientation. I’m still doing well, regardless. I want to keep a successful trend of “A’s” in every class. I want a 4.0+ GPA.

I want more.

That said, the magic number is 48 million dollars. What is that number? Where does it come from?

48 is my current age.

48 is the age of this man that is a comic book writer. His name is Mark Millar (https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Mark_Millar) who created so many stories that his work is made out of a number of successful movies. He’s living the life I wanted.

48 million is the number I will maintain in my head as the magic number to say I can retire.

The amount of money that I will collect from my work at Walmart, as a Lawyer, and as an Author. Plus other things, like Inventor.

Yes, author. It’s not gone; just paused.

It may come across as fantasy such a high figure.

But …

Look how far I came from Pactiv (that factory) at less money in less than six months. I am positive that my ambitions respond to me better outside of my passion to be an author. The problems often OFTEN come when I double back to say “I’m an author” and the white-collar jobs then fall apart. This time around, I am staying on path.

I can’t say being an author was a failure. It did well enough considering I had so little to market myself. The failure in it comes when I had to depend on others to get me noticed (i.e., literary agent).

In this career path (going back to school, Walmart, Lawyer, etc), I depend on myself but the money is commensurate with the effort unlike self-publishing without money to do it.

On this career path, I am successful and I expect to be paid incredibly well every step of the way. In fact, I demand it. Everywhere I go: Walmart to Lawyer —- no one has a choice BUT to pay me very, very well.

Until then, along the way, I’m paying off all old debt and saving money. My credit score is even rising.

Now you know the plan.

Now I know the goal.