My cell phone is back online, now. The new billing month has occurred, so my being over on my minutes is done with. Also, I switched plans so that doesn’t happen again. Sorry to everyone who called and got a message saying I was disconnected.

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This is just general information for everyone who chats with me via chat: Due to the nature of my profession, sometimes my responses to you over any instant messaging service may be delayed severely, employ brevity, or both. Unless otherwise informed, I am not pissed, angry, upset, displeased, or generally negative in your direction. I will tell you up front if I’m pissed at you; have no fear. Keep in mind that my priority is WORKING, and unfortunately, unless you’re offering me a better salary, I’m going to have to kick you to the back burner and respond when time permits.

Before any of you Chatty McChattersons reply back with, “So don’t log into AIM,” keep in mind that I’m required to by my work
This has been an announcement from the Department of Redundancy Department. We will now return you to your regularly scheduled chaos.

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In having a conversation with a coworker about baseball, it seemed to me that maybe to those who don’t know me as well as others do may not know that I’m fanatical about baseball. Yes, the Giants are my team, but truth be told, I’ll watch baseball in any form. The end of the season is less than a couple of weeks away, and already I’m feeling the remorse of not having gone to any games this month. To the outside observer, I’m insane (apparently). But I’m just a really passionate fan. Baseball isn’t just a sport to me, it’s like a life philosophy at times. Life shares so many metaphors within baseball, because it is what it is; a linear game. Life’s just another baseball game. Some of us are staring down the first pitch, while others are in the late innings. We learn to judge pitches outside and inside the strike zone. Sometimes, we strike out. Sometimes, we launch it into the stands.

What got me started was someone taking me aside and asking me what was so great about Barry Bonds hitting 700 home runs. “It’s not like you hit 700 home runs or anything.” I just sat there for a moment, thinking about my response. So I said, “There are moments in history when people will stop and ask you where you were. Where were you when Challenger exploded? Where where you when you heard about 9/11? My mom used to talk about being asked where she was when she heard that Kennedy was assassinated. Between Giants fans, it’s always, where were you when Barry hit 500, 600, or 700? And none of those memories are traumatic or bad to have to recall where I was, because I love baseball. And those milestones are historic.” Sure, baseball has its bad memories, but more often than not, we look to baseball for trimuph than tragedy. We live and die by teams’ successes and failures, and those of us who’ve a broader perspective of the sport can appreciate the feats of individual players such as Barry Bonds approaching and surpassing legends of the game.

I could not care less if my fandom makes me unattractive, or if people who dislike baseball decide this is a dealbreaker for a friendship. I like what I like, and if you can’t accept that, then at least respect it. I don’t need everyone around me to love or even like baseball, but I do ask that they respect my perspective or agree to disagree. I don’t think it’s asking too much, and if it is, then don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

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I shaved my head. I no longer have an unruly mop on my scalp, which is good. It’s hard to manage it and I was getting sick of feeling like my hair needed to be tamed every morning. Using that much conditioner every morning was beginning to get expensive. I use to do this once a season; at the beginning of every season I would cut it down to an inch or a little under an inch, and then by the end of the season or the beginning of the next one, it would get to a point where I would need to prune the ol’ hedge again. It feels nice to no longer have three pounds of hair on my head.

In other hair news, I’ve also decided to try a goatee again.

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I was writing this crappy attempt at erotica a while back, based in part on a real life experience I had right before I went to Anime Expo. I let a friend read it, and she really liked it. The problem is, now that I’ve taken a break from writing it, I’ve forgotten the emotional drive for it and now it looks utterly foreign to me. I really hate it when shit like that happens to me. Now that I have this literary agent looking at my stuff on my websites and offering to shop me around… I’m hesitant about signing anything that hands over my work to someone else. Power of attorney and nightmare stories about crappy agents. Bleh.

Here’s a brief list of what I have in progress:

1) Knight Commander
2) Knight Commissioned
3) Second Star Freight Company
4) The Everything Girl
5) Agamemnon: Part II
6) Untitled #24 (Baseball story)

The story the agent read was actually one of the stories from The Quarterdeck Breed, called “Dallas.” I get creeped out when an agent tells me he was looking at stories at fanfiction.net *shudder*.

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Saturdays are pretty difficult to manage where work is concerned. Some of you are aware that I work at Walmart, some may not be. What everyone should know is that I work about 65 miles away from where I live, and a commute like that even in a car is harrowing at best. It usually takes me anywhere from 35 minutes to nearly 2 hours depending on the time of day and traffic conditions. I typically enjoy working weekends because it’s generally traffic-free. However, along the Penninsula, the opposite effect of traffic happens. During the work week, most people are inside working when I head in to work (midday/afternoon), but on Saturday, it’s like they’re all driving because they’re not at work and the highway clogs up like a drain full of hair. Even if I left an hour before work, I would be late. Which I was today, but that’s just an aggravation over what really happened.

I woke up late, because my clock lied to me. I though I had set my clock to be ten minutes fast, when I realized it was more like 2 minutes fast. So, rather than being able to hit snooze once, I should have gotten up right when it went off. Instead, I lazed around in the bed to get like a few more minutes of sleep in before I willed myself up. Before I even went to bed, though, I didn’t get off work until 1am, and that means I don’t get home until around 2am. I have to get up at 10am to be out the door by 11am to get into work at 12pm. If I don’t go right to sleep as soon as I get home, I get less than 8 hours and I get cranky. Which I am right now. I don’t like being cranky at work, because I actually like doing my job. In turn, the crappy cranky feeling snowballs and suddenly I’m just another asshole working at Walmart. I think I snapped at two people calling in, but to be honest, I’m not really caring all that much right now.

On top of which, the Giants are down 4 runs going into the bottom of the eighth. So much for Schmidt being our ace.

What a crappy day.

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Jesse and I are taking another week off to recover from JTAF2.

We got a fan letter from Finland. Holy crap.

The hour-long show covering KOR and BGC brought in yet MORE fan mail, like the original show did. Holy crap.

I’m looking forward to doing more shows.

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700

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Not that I need one but…

http://www.freeiPods.com/default.aspx?referer=9240699

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