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A dumpster full of various musings over life, God, scripture, and any random thought that may fly by meanwhile. Comments welcome.

Archive for the ‘Blog Moan and Whine’ Category

Meaningless Drivel

Posted by Iszi on January 21, 2005


Well, it seems I haven’t updated this blog in awhile, either. Guess I haven’t had much to bitch about, or maybe I just haven’t had the energy or will/desire to blog about it. Or maybe I’m just too damn lazy… or maybe I just wanted to make this post for the sole sake of posting something for the hell of it.

Whatever all this means, I’m just glad to see that life’s really not so bad that I have to come online and totally gripe about it every day, and I can just move on with it most times.

Hope yours is going just as well, if not better.


– Iszi


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Well, What The Hell?!?!

Posted by Iszi on October 19, 2004

Greetings, Readers.

So, I’m headed to church to help set-up for Tuesday night’s service, right? I miss the bus I’d meant to take, so I decide to just bike it all the way. It’s an hour-long trip by bike, which about equals the same time I’d take if I waited for the next bus. (About a half hour to wait on the bus, and another half hour in transit.)

So, I’m biking along now, minding my own business. I’m trying to stay as close to the edge of the road as I can, in order to stay out of the way of traffic coming from behind me since there is no sidewalk most of the way. This isn’t always the easiest thing to do, especially when leftover hurricane debris is factored into the equation (and yes, there still is some on the side of the road in some areas). Riding along now, trying to focus on keeping my bike in the thin strip of asphalt between the outer white line of the road border and the grass on the right, and all of a sudden – SMACK – something feeling very hard nails me in the back out of nowhere! Then, after the initial shock wears off, I start to notice it feels cold and wet as I see a Wendy’s cup flying over the shoulder that was impacted.

Now, consider that the average speed limit on this road I’m biking on is about 45 MPH, for those that follow it. Most cars going along this road typically run no slower than 60. On my bike, my average speed is about 12 MPH. So, relatively speaking, we can say that I was hit with a pretty full cup of ice and soda (and it didn’t feel light on the ice) flying at about 48 MPH. I would like to attribute the incident to a careless litterer who happened to just toss the cup out the window at the wrong time, but I’m no big target to be hit easily on accident.

So, could someone please tell me what is the frickin’ point behind doing such a thing? Why the hell would a person just want to nail some Joe Blow riding their bike on the side of the highway? Had I not been so focused on the road, or had the cup hit me in the head, I could have ended up swerving and bailing out to the side of the road (if I was lucky) while my bike flew in the other direction, wreaking havoc on the front-end of the next car to come up behind me, and likely causing them to screech to a halt, creating a road hazard that could lead to an accident involving more than just myself and the one car!

And that’s assuming I had bailed safely to the side of the road! I don’t even want to imagine what would have happened if I had completely lost control and found myself lying in the middle of the road! And the damn bastards would have gotten away with it! By the time I even thought to get a tag number in the actual course of events that happened, the car was too far out for me to even get a clear description.

So, why do people do stupid things like that? What’s it even worth to them? Is it to show that they’re better than me or something? Hell, I’d like to see the next time they intend on riding a bicycle for an hour to a church for the sole sake of slinging some couches around and throwing up some curtains.

This reminds me of another time I was on my bike a few months ago. Our car was not working at the time, and we needed diapers and toilet paper. I went to the nearest Albertson’s, and got the biggest package of diapers and biggest pack of toilet paper I could find, so I wouldn’t have to make the trip again any time soon. Each package was nearly the physical size of my own torso, albeit (thankfully) not nearly so heavy. On my way home, tail-light flashing and headlight leading the way along the sidewalk as I carefully held onto one bag on each wrist so my hands could guide the handlebars, a red pickup flew by with some doofus sticking his head out shouting some insult or another, accompanied by gratuitous maniacal laughter. I’d like to see the next time one of those guys even thinks about making such a late-night trip out to a grocery store on a bicycle for their wife and child, let alone consider taking such a cumbersome load along!

Who raises such kids that they would enjoy seeing and/or causing someone else’s hardship? How is it that society just lets these kind of people go unignored and running around rampant, pulling such drive-by pranks as these? Does no one care anymore, unless they’re the ones on the receiving end?

In short, these kind of people piss me off. Especially since there’s not a damn thing I can do about them since they’re out of sight too quickly to even consider any recourse.

– Iszi

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Very Un-Patriotic

Posted by Iszi on October 4, 2004

Greetings, Readers.

Here’s the part where I actually start to do what this blog suggests, now. BMW. For those who are not familiar with the acronym, that is Bitch, Moan, and Whine. Now, I’ve found something I’m rather pissed about, so that’s exactly what I’m going to do.

Let me start by saying, I have nothing against hispanics in general. No all-inclusive prejudice, or anything to where I’ll hate someone or think less of them just because they have hispanic background. What I do have a problem with are the ignorant hispanics (and any other foreigner for that matter – hispanics just happen to run rampant around here) that come over here to the good old U.S. of A., and think they should be allowed to live, work, and play here for years on end without learning a lick of English. Last I checked, English was the official and primary spoken and written language in America, just as German is in Germany, Portugese in Brazil, Italian in Italy, French in France, et cetera.

In any of those other countries, do you ever dare walk into a place of business and automatically expect the people there to speak your (outside) language? No. Do you expect them to provide documents with translations for anything that may be on paper, such as a menu or map? Possibly, but you have also come prepared for if they don’t. Do you expect to go finding a job there, without learning enough of the language to be able to hold up your end of a conversation? Not me, no sir. Lastly of all, do you expect every advertisement in an establishment to be primarily written in your language? Maybe if the place specialized in items imported from your country, but otherwise no.

So why the hell is America so different? This is what has me so pissed off. It’s not so much that there are ignorant foreigners in our country who come and don’t care to learn the language, or care to speak it clearly (if at all) when they do know it. It’s also the fact that our country is catering to these people!

How are we “catering” to them? Everywhere you go, on menus, credit card or bank applications, and various other documents, there are translations written or available in Spanish. I’ll grant that the percentage of hispanics in our population, and in population of tourists to this country warrant having translations on those kinds of documents, but what about job applications? Or here’s a real kicker – what about that spot on some job applications where there’s a signature line for a translator if needed? And I’m not talking about some construction job or something where the person will only ever have to communicate with his co-workers. I’m talking about the fast-food industry, here. Probably one of the jobs that is most demanding (in my experience) of flexibility in the skills of its workers. If you can only work a register, or only work in food prep, you’re a hinderance to that job location whenever (and in fast-food it does happen often) it runs short-handed. And, to be able to work in such a place, when you barely even know enough of the local language to understand when a manager calls for more food to be made, that sticks you in the back of the house with no use elsewhere.

I had to work with a couple people like that in one of my fast-food jobs. All they could do was cook the food, and you could barely talk to them enough to tell them when they needed to do that. But that’s not what’s got me really pissed off about America’s catering to foreigners right now. I’ll tell you what fired me up this time.

As all Americans know by now, it’s election season. So, of course, everybody is putting some sort of electoral spin on their advertisements, most of them flashing red, white, and blue to emphasize how voting is an act of patriotism. Convenience stores are no different. My store has several signs with red, white, and blue all over them, advertising our own spin voting. But there’s something wrong with these signs. It’s not that there’s a spanish translation on them, as you might guess from the now-established theme of this post. It’s that there’s English translations on them instead! Several of the signs inside our store, some of which represent the only signs advertising a particular new product, have the largest text written in spanish, with smaller (maybe one-fifth size) text underneath in english! And it’s still all red, white, and blue, celebrating our Ameircan patriotism.

If you ask me, that’s about the most un-patriotic thing a business could do. It just about equates to flying a foreign country’s flag above or without an American flag, in America! (By the way, a police officer may be wanting to talk to you if you do that.) This isn’t some foreign country here, or some foreign-family-owned business, where things need to be translated into english because the primary language of the nation is something else, or because all of the merchandise is from somewhere else. This is a major American convenience store chain, on American soil, selling many American products, and whatever products aren’t American-made have been made for America and therefore are printed in english! So I’m a proud born-American patriot, getting ready to walk into an American-run business, in the United States of America, selling products made for, if not by the USA, with advertisements designed to promote American patriotism, and the advertisement has to be translated for me? One particular sign is in the back of the store, and can be clearly read in spanish from the front of the store, but cannot be clearly read in english until you are practically underneath it!

If things follow this path too much longer, I wouldn’t be surprised to see subtitles on the news for a spanish-speaking president of the United States! As I said before, I have nothing personally against hispanics or other foreigners in general, but if you people are going to move here, then you damn well better learn the fucking language!

That’s all for this rant. Thanks for letting me vent. Hopefully, this will be all on this subject.

– Iszi

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Sleep "Schedule"? What’s that?

Posted by Iszi on September 22, 2004

Greetings, Readers.

I woke up at about 2200 last night (Monday night), and it is now 0404 in the (using the term loosely) morning, Wednesday and I’m still good to go for a couple more hours even though I know I probably shouldn’t. My sleep patterns have always been rather irregular when allowed to run on their own accord. Often, on consecutive nights off, I’d find myself staying up for 36 hours or so, and sleeping 12 afterwards. Part of this in recent times has been due to the flip-flopping of activity schedules that occurs before, during, and after my days off.

My two consecutive days (nights actually, since shifts run from 2200 on the starting night until 0600 on the end morning) are typically Monday and Tuesday. Occasionally I get a third, but I don’t count it as a sure thing, and it’s not always on the same day every time either. The shifting of activity schedules actually starts, however, on Saturday nights.

On a typical night of work, with nothing particular planned the next day, I’d wake up around 2100 to get ready, get to work at 2200, and leave (on a good day) at about 0700 the next morning. From there, I’d go home and do the occasional small tasks that are asked of me (feed/change baby, take out trash, put away dishes) and then start winding down to go to bed usually between 1200 and 1400, but sometimes as early as 1000 or as late as 1600, depending on how tired or wired I am. Physical activity during this “wind-down” time is near nil though, so I almost may as well be lying in bed awake during that time.

Saturday nights start a different activity cycle, though. Still normally wake up around 2100, get to work at 2200, leave for home around 0700, but instead of going into the usual wind-down routine, I have to get ready (and help my wife and daughter get ready) for church and turn around to go out the door almost no sooner than I walked in. Get to church around 0900, and don’t usually get out until 1300 or so, since (for various reasons) we stay for two services. Getting home at around 1400, I’m still usually pretty pumped from church and can’t get myself down to sleep until 1600, or sometimes as late as 1800.

That gives me just enough time for 3-5 hours of sleep, before I have to wake up for work again. Get home from work about 10 hours later, still with a good bit of energy, and maybe hit the sack at about 1100 on average, if I’m smart. If I’m too lazy to go to sleep, (with me that does make sense in its own weird way) or too wired, I end up staying awake solid until 1600 when it’s time to get ready to go to church to help set up for The Living Room. Get home at about 1900 after that. If I had “sleep” I usually stay up until about 0600 the next morning. If I hadn’t had sleep, I crash until probably noon or so the next day.

In either case, I have to be up and going again at 1600 to get to church for TLR to help make sure all the final wrinkles are straightened out and such. Service starts at 1920, ends between 2100-2200, get out of tear-down at about 2230, and then usually go hang with some friends afterwards, not getting home until 0200 or later most times. By then, my body wants to stay up long enough to finish the “Third Shift” and get to sleep between 0800 and 1000. Wake-up time for work on Wednesday is usually 2100.

Now Thursdays have been thrown in the mix, too. My cell group leader moved our meetings from Mondays to Thursdays at 1900, which means (regardless of when I drag myself to bed that morning) I usually have to be up at 1830 to get ready and go, often having to go to work after that.

So, maybe Friday nights are the only nights that I have a pretty steady 2100-1200 waking hours now. Oh, the joys of third shift with an occasional day-life.

– Iszi

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Posted by Iszi on September 20, 2004

Okay, got the foundation laid down for BMW – Blog, Moan, and Whine. Not much there yet, but I will be posting some stuff later on. Feel free to add to your favorites or whatever. I’d prefer it not linked though. If you want to link to me, please link here. I’ll add a link to BMW in my sidebar later on.

– Iszi

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First Post

Posted by Iszi on September 20, 2004


If you don’t know me, you might want to check out my other blog, My Thoughtspace, which is my general journal blog. If you know me from there, be prepared for a bit of a different blog. While I try to remain calm and thoughtful in my other blog, (which really is the way I prefer to be in general) this is going to be my venting zone. Bottom line: Welcome to my bitch session. Beware, it could get ugly here. There’s a lot a 3rd-shift convenience store clerk has to gripe about, and when you add life outside of work onto that, it can get even nastier.

So, this is the ugly side of me. Not much meant for anyone to really enjoy, just really for me to blow off a crapload of steam. If you want to read to maybe get to know me and my frustrations a little better, I welcome you to. But you have been warned now, and I won’t apologize when things get ugly here.

– Iszi

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