Seems the weather in South San Franfreakshow has returned to Silent Hill status. Time to hang up the shorts and tank-tops.
As a life long fan of Superman, I must say this video is just spectacular! It explores the various art styles and scenes from Superman in comics to games and tv and movies for over the last 75 years. I also love the transition from the John Williams Superman The Movie theme to the current Hans Zimmer Man of Steel theme!
Might seem petty, but I almost quit green hell once again last night.
First of all, I’m normally scheduled for a half shift on Tuesdays, but just as my co-workers and I clocked-in we found out that we were requested to stay a couple more hours. I had grown accustomed to my half shift on Tuesday mornings and frankly, I welcomed it. My patience is worn thin as it is with this job-The sooner I left the better.
Secondly, yes I am still new to the job and still trying to practice getting my timing down. The first couple hours went without a hitch and I was in my zone. Feeling accomplished. After the 10 minute break, I started another section to stock. Less than half-way through it, my manager started to help me. And by help me, I mean they did half the work for me. I repeat: They did half the work for me.
Additionally, the manager finished the other half of the section faster than I finished mine-It wasn’t by much-And had the nerve to comment to me that I was going slow. I almost lost it, right there. Again, I’m new, I’m trying to learn my section and speed as fast as I can-I’m timing myself. Also, I was requested to stay on a longer shift, and my manager just took away a good forty-five minutes to an hour worth of work from me and tops it off by saying I’m going slow. That is feked up! I almost lost it right there. It took every ounce of control I had to not lash out. Just took a deep breath and kept it in.
Fortunately, by then the lunch break had arrived. Because of this last minute extended work period, I hadn’t prepared any lunch. Had it been the regular half shift, I would have just gone home afterward and eaten. However, I was so filled with rage that I got in my car drove to the local 7-Eleven, bought a pack of cigarettes, and just drove around and smoked.
I really needed that momentary escape. Along with the fresh (and freezing) night air, a Camel Menthol Silver cigarette, and a series of green lights over a few miles (it was 4:30am)-KDFC was playing Mozart. All those elements indeed helped to calm me down.
By the time I clocked back in, I resumed my focus, and blasted through my final section. Lo and behold! I finished about 45 minutes early. Again, had my manager not stepped in and did the second half of my section, I would have finished on time anyway.
Around the time of the final break, the store manager had arrived to begin the opening processes. He had bought the night/freight crew some chocolate scones from Starbucks as a sort of peace offering for changing the schedule on us at the last minute. I appreciated the gesture, but it really wasn’t enough to put a genuine smile back on my face.
I continually say (at least to myself) that I do not get paid enough to deal with this kind of labor at these hours, and I do feel I work at the speed of my wages. Furthermore, I am also not paid enough to waste to compromise my identity, my ego, any further than is necessary. I see this job at this green hell as a penance for years of squandering my time and (little) money-Penance for not taking better care of my mother and grandfather and myself.
I had-No! I have the tools and knowledge to succeed. Why am I so damn scared to use them?
Whoa! I used to love Flashback on the SNES and PC back in the 90s. Apparently there’s a new sequel out, and I didn’t even know about it-Just saw it available on Steam for $10. Still too rich for my blood-Tho I know what I’m getting during the Steam Christmas sales anyway.
So… weird event happened the other night. I suppose, I’ll attempt to retell it in a script format. (I loosely know this format)
BEDROOM – EVENING
Ron Dador is watching and laughing at the cgi movie adaption of Beowulf. It’s at the point where Beowulf is fully nude and fighting an equally nude Grendel.
Knock at the door.
Enter Ron’s Father.
Hey, Ronnie. Are you working tonight?
(pauses Beowulf on computer)
Nope. Off tonight.
Oh, okay. Hey can you watch the princess?
(the question usually infers that his wife and he are going out of town to a casino for a few hours,
and for Ron to care for the dog while they are gone.)
Ah. Going to the casino, eh? Sure I’ll watch Celly.
Don’t plan on going out.
(smiles, turns to leave, halts)
We’ll see you later.
Wait-I was thinking-
Why don’t you save some money, and so next year
you can go to the Philippines.
You should go to the Philippines and find a wife–
You can find a wife there. A doctor, or a lawyer-One that can help you.
You’d be surprised how beautiful they are.
And plenty of them want to come work here.
Save some money. Say a thousand dollars. The ratio is about 40:1.
So a thousand dollars is forty-thousand pesos.
You can live pretty good there for a couple weeks or a month.
Whoa-I don’t even have a passport.
That’s no problem, just go down to the post office and file for one.
They’re something like thirty-nine dollars.
I can help you with plane fair if you like.
Round trip is eight-hundred dollars or so.
Well I’m not really attracted to Asians. There’s plenty of them here and–
Just think about it.
I’ll help you.
Ehh. Yeah… I’ll think about it.
Father quickly notes the paused image on screen of a nude Beowulf and Grendal attacking each other. He looks puzzled.
(Ron does a double take and facepalms)
What the fek just happened?
Yeah, that was a couple nights ago. I was going to write a blog post right then and there, but I decided to let it simmer in first.
Yes, I do live with my father and his wife, who I refer to as auntie. We are Filipino. There’s nothing wrong with that. Although it does direct some conflict with me personally.
My father is very traditional in the Filipino sense. He’s, I suppose second generation here in the states, having moved from the Islands to here in his teens. So perhaps he is in fact first generation. In any case, yes, traditional. I being birthed and raised here in the states, there is a slight culture clash.
For one-Filipinos tend to stick together-Different generations sharing one household. That is typical of many cultures, I’m sure. Doesn’t seem to be typical of the American standard of the coming of age at 18 years old (adult legal age), and leaving the home.
Well, I suck at life (so far). I rarely ever left home. I stayed with my mother and grandparents most of my life, in the end taking care of them-Taking care of each other. And now since my grandfathers passing, my mother having moved to the Philippines, I’ve decided to stay with my father and his wife-To start over-Get out of debt, and all that sneck. Figured the SF Bay would have more opportunity than the quiet hills of northern California. Well that definitely didn’t pan out.
Back on track-My father seems to think that I’ll never move away (well at the current rate that I’m getting paid, that seems feking realistic). As I’ve stated. I am not happy at all living here-I have a home (and I’m very grateful for that), but I feel more comfortable not being there. I continually feel like a guest even after over a year. They are nice people-Auntie and her family are in fact heavily devout Christian-Catholic. Tolerable and patient-That’s terrific! That’s how Christians are supposed to be. However, I just can’t seem to connect with them.
As with most people, I have nothing in common with them-Nor with most Filipinos (both domestic or immigrant, young and old) that I come in contact with here. This is South City, Daily City area-Asians everywhere-Very little tastes or interests in common with any of them. Of course it doesn’t help that I’m shy.
Truth told, I suspect and rationalize the real problem with my lack of communication skills is really with me and my stubbornness, shyness, and/or reluctance to open up. I grew up en garde-And I know my shyness has oft times come off as snobbish. Believe me, I have nothing to be proud of.
Well …now my father expects me to travel to the islands and seek out a mate.
I’ll flatly state-I’m not really attracted to Asian women, let alone Filipinas. I’m around them all the fekin time as it is. Why should I have to travel to another country, another land to seek one out when they are right here. And excuse me for wanting something different.
If I am to reproduce, I’d prefer it to be with another ethnicity. I’m honestly not picky. Hell, I don’t even want children, but if it were to be so, yes, please with another ethnicity. I’d want the child to be of the world, not just from one part of it. I would also imagine that mixing ethnicity would produce a stronger child overall-Having varied traits from both strains-I could be wrong of course. Then there’s the social issue of race-Well my view there is that racism would be less progressive if we all just feked each other and produced a mixture of offspring.
There is also plenty of unwanted children in the world already. Why not adopt or foster?
Secondly, I’m not ready to even consider having children.
I have a sneck job with sneck pay. I owe my Auntie and father money for not only housing me and feeding me, but for helping me with my lawyer fees with my bankruptcy. I literally live paycheck to paycheck with how dismally I’m paid-I can’t even start a savings account. How in god(s) name can I even think about supporting a family, let alone traveling half-way around the world?
Also if I were to travel to the islands, ‘twould be to directly to visit my mother, not feking paternal conquest!
So.. yeah I don’t feking know what to think. This is such an odd issue for me.
I respect my father, but I definitely do not share his views, nor this plan he has for me.
RISE FROM YOUR GRAVE!
Can I talk about DuckTales Remastered for a minute?
I’m not going to cite any specific examples, but I’ve read more than a handful of reviews that knocked Remastered down for being a bit too “classic” in the difficulty department. Some people had such a rough time that it actually soured their opinion of the original — I guess DuckTales was just more flawed than we dared to admit, and it took this remake to finally bring the truth to light.
I am very disappointed in those people.
It’s f*cking DuckTales, one of the easier games in the NES library! Are you so spoiled by modern design leniency that you spout tired labels like “cheap” and “unfair” whenever a game punishes you for your failure to learn and adapt? Or is it that you\’ll only accept above-average challenge when offset by a safety net — like checkpoints seemingly every two steps — to spare you the horror of having to exercise caution and restraint? Heaven forbid a game asks you to plan ahead before plunging headlong into uncharted territory.
If that’s you, you need to play Volgarr the Viking and gain some goddamn perspective.
via Review: Volgarr the Viking – Destructoid. -Tony Ponce
Couldn’t agree more with Tony. I suppose we’re both of the generation that grew up with Atari 2600, NES and the arcade. Definitely remember noting DuckTales, as well as the other Disney NES games as being on the easy side-They were made for the younger kids so there should be no surprise at their level of difficulty. And yet players today, I’m guessing the kids that grew up playing N64 and PS1-They’re having difficulty getting through a simple game like DuckTales.
I have definitely noticed how modern Triple-A titles and their developers have included easy modes. From the beginning of the game to the end it’s no sweat-Whereas when I was growing up as a gamer it was one mode, and depending on the game, it ranged from easy as pie to hard as fek! As you progressed, the gameplay got more insane, more frenetic. You had to memorize patterns and “get good” as the kids these days say.
I do think it’s funny how casual gaming and hardcore gaming are defined at times. The hardcore games seem to be the Triple-AAA titles from big name companies with large investments in developing the graphics, sound/music, and narrative/story; While the casual games are far less graphic intense and cost a small fraction of the big titles and are often developed by small independent/indie game studios.
Gameplay-wise, I think most of the AAA titles with their epic narratives are generally easier and lead to more boredom; whereas the casual games with often arcadey or simplified gameplay tend to cause me more frustration, but oftentimes keeps me coming back due to their addictive nature.
If it wasn’t for the human vs human factor (see: competitive arsehole jockeying) in the multi-player portions of these Tripe-AAA shooter games like Call of Duty, or fighting games like Street Fighter, I can imagine the Triple-AAA games may not be known as hardcore.
Since we humans have to label and categorize everything, I propose the following base category prenomen:
- Narrative – Solo with story
- Arcade – Solo with little to no story
- Competitive – Multi-player, player versus player
- MMO – Massively Multi-Player On-line (still works)
From these base categories you can tack on the genres:
Narrative Shooter, Arcade Platformer, Competitive Fighter, MMORPG etc. etc.
Sounds pretty straightforward and less malicious than the ego driven hardcore! and the (sounding less involved) casual.
Even before the whole “goth” thing, I’ve always had a weird fixation with Elvira–Gee, I wonder what it could be?! 😉
Seriosuly tho, I’ve always found Elvira entertaining. I enjoy that dry sort of puntastic humor-Hers being with a horror theme. (Additionally I do dig the opening music act here. Excellent use of vocoder).
This is recent footage of a series of shows she’s performing at Knott’s Berry Farm for this Halloween season. The actress who portrays Elvira, Cassandra Peterson is age 62! Elvira is still running strong after 30 years. I find that very impressive, I suppose in comparison to Victor Borge, my favorite entertainer, who actually performed regularly up until his passing in 2000 at the age of 91. (Yes, I just compared Elvira to Victor Borge! What are you gonna do about it?)
Long live the Queen of Halloween, and my immense respects to the Greatest Entertainer Who Ever Lived!
I don’t know what it is, but today was just an exercise in laziness …more or less. I don’t think I said more than a few sentences aloud all day, aside from the usual “I hate my life.” and “Feking kill me already” which has become the wake-up ritual.
It’s my day off from green hell. Woke up early this morning in pain. Body was aching all over. Wanted to go workout at the gym, but my body just wasn’t up to it. Instead I spent the morning doing some light aquarium maintenance, checking e-mail, facebook etc etc.
By the the time noon had come around, I went out and bought a few groceries from green hell. Was planning to do some writing the local Wendy’s that has wifi, but I looked at my bank account and decided not to. Even the value menu is too expensive for me, and I have to make this change last until payday (friday). Looking at my current balance pretty much ruined the rest of the day for me.
Went home, caught up on the Late Late Show with Craig Ferguson and did some much needed book case organizing and clean up.
In the last couple hours, I decided to do some WordPress maintenance. Some might notice the slight changes or additions I’ve made in the last couple days. The process was a lot more tedious than I figured it would be, but it’s done. Everything is finally linked together. And I did notice a spike in viewers-Altho that may just be me checking that everyone is working. lol
In any case, getdador! is building, growing, and evolving-
Slowly, but surely.
Well this morning started out well. Not. Just moments ago I was setting up my laptop here at a very small table in Starbucks-Didn’t realize my cup of tea was situated so close to the back end of my laptop, and when I opened it, the backside of the monitor knocked over my tea. It was venti (large) sized and all of it had spilt. (sigh)
I quickly and calmly notified the staff. Thankfully, the clerk, Alicia (as I see on her tag), a very nice lady, came over and mopped it up right away-And she actually gave me another cup of Earl Grey. That was a surprise. I figure it was my fault and I should probably leave, let alone pay for a new cup. For a mega corporation, Starbucks does have a nice spill policy. I should hope to never do that again, but as I’ve said in a past blog, I am indeed a clumsy oaf.
What else? Ahh, yes. Had my usual phone conversation with my best friend Jeff this morning. We are essentially both off on Wednesdays, so this is when we tend to catch up on each others lives. He mentioned that he ran into an old acquaintance of hours from highschool. I will not disclose his name (hell, I won’t even pretend to try to spell it). Anyway, he apparently is well off. His parents run a local law firm which he is a part of. Jeff was in fact installing a new cable system for him (Jeff is a cable guy). He has a nice home, a girlfriend, and is living quite comfortably …apparently.
However Jeff had off chance made note of a letter left on our acquaintances table. An approval letter for Zoloft, an anti-depressant-And it made Jeff wonder why? I quickly replied that “Being as successful as he is, he’s probably under a lot of pressure, and that anti-depressant is probably a way of coping with it.” I went on-”We live in a very fast paced society where information comes at us at all directions and we have to deal with it on the spot. Some of us deal with it or adapt better than others. There are people in the world still stuck in the stone age, living very simple lives compared to us in the technological and modern civilized world. These tribal societies are barely clothed, only eat what they can hunt and gather; Yet when you see them in those documentaries, they all seem very happy and content. They have each other, their small community, and that’s all the distraction they need.”
The exchanged continued for several more minutes with us discussing and comparing this to each of our present living situations (our jobs, home lives etc) and Jeff said, “Y’know, it’s just like Tex Murphy said, ‘No matter how bad things are, they can always get worse.’ –But look at us. Look at all the crap we’ve gone through. It’s like Tex Murphy, it’s like a video game. We go through increasingly difficult waves of situations that get harder and harder. We use whatever the game gives us to fight back, and it just keeps pressuring us-But we both haven’t gone over the edge and started a self-destructive smack binge.”
I replied, “Y’know, you’re right. Our lives kinda suck, but we’ve never gone overboard. Like you said, level after level, wave after wave-That is the perfect allegory. It’s like …Galaga. Life is like fekin Galaga. There’s that one bug that sucks up your ship, your life, and integrates you into the swarm. And with your new life (a new chance), you have to try and carefully, skillfully kill that bug that holds your former self captive, and free it. When that happens you re-integrate your old self with the new and have twice the firepower to combat the swarm.”
We both agreed.
So I know I’ve not been active for about the last week. Things have happened. Some good, some bad. I suppose I’ll start with the good.
Finally got paid from work at Dollar Tree last Friday. A small portion of that supplemented with some of the money I’d made selling an external drive and some collectible Bioshock toys on eBay, I have finally gotten around to building up a 20 gallon tank that had been sitting in my van for the better part of 3 weeks. I took advantage of a sale at Petco that featured aquarium tanks for sale at one dollar per gallon. I was very excited to get it.
I should probably back up a little bit. I’ve always had interest in aquarium fish. Some of my earliest memories as a child was helping my grandfather with his goldfish tank. He had the usual large feeder goldfish types and fancies with a generic HOB (hang on back) filter and an incandescent light with hood. Definitely beginner type stuff.
Of course, my 4-year-old enthusiasm to care for these fish was tragically comical…
I recall my grandparents taking me to the Japanese Tea Garden in San Francisco. I suppose it was modeled after the traditional Edo period Japanese stylings-Cherry blossoms, zen gardens etc. Surrounding the garden was a pond, or perhaps a moat that housed hundreds, if not thousands of live Koi fish. And I had noticed other visitors feeding the fish what seemed to be bits of crackers and pieces of bread.
In my young mind, I patterned that the Koi basically looked like giant goldfish. See where this is going?
Later that day, when we returned home, the thought process was focused on getting grandpa’s goldfish to grow as large as the Koi from the garden. And so there I went, with determination and intent, stormed into the kitchen set up a chair to the cupboard, climbed up, and grabbed a whole loaf of bread.
I then took that loaf to the living room to my grandfathers fish tank and began to stuff said loaf of bread into the tank.
After awhile, as I was sitting on my knees, excitedly watching the bread expand against the walls of the tiny tank, my grandmother caught sight of the scene. “Ronnie!” she screamed. “What are you doing? Jerry!” She peered back into the bedroom and motioned for my grandfather to come.
Grandfather quickly rushed out. “Ronnie?!” At this point I imagine most parents would start to cuss themselves out. Not my grandfather. Grandma Virgie, yes, but not grandpa Jerry. In fact, I can probably count on both of my hands of how many times I’ve heard him say the -S- word, but never the -F- word. In later years, when my grandfather was in contact with his brothers and sisters (who were all military as well) yes, I would definitely hear them all cuss up a storm-But he never would in parenting mode.
In anycase, grandfather calmly walked over to me and this ridiculous scene, and asked what I thought I was doing.
“I’m feeding the fish so they can get as big as those fish we saw at tea garden!” I replied with glee.
Mind you, the tank and its inhabitants were basically destroyed from what I did, but my grandfather didn’t yell at me. He had a very puzzled look on his face that slowly grew to amusement. He turned around and my grandparents looked at each other for a moment then they started to howl with laughter.
Of course, I not understanding the ramifications of my actions had shyly asked them. “What?”
That’s right folks. Ron Dador, newly/recently re-emigrated from the Philippines, at four years old was a destroyer of worlds.(Queue opening chorus from This Corrosion).
Of course those fish had died and my grandfather had gotten more of the same. Feeders and small fancies are generally cheap after all, and my grandmother liked those colors. Not long after we finally made our move to Santa Clara, and the fish were bucketed and successfully transferred to a long life at our Greenwood Drive home. I can’t remember exactly, but I believe those “new” fish and the tank were given away years later, before we again moved.
Again many years later, I think in my late teens, shortly after moving from Salinas, just gallivanting around Hillsdale mall, I noticed a small pet store (that no longer exists). I went in and on a whim had bought a crowntail betta, a 1 gallon bowl, a small bottle of water conditioner, and some generic betta food. Of course, I wasn’t really thinking. I should have gotten one closer to home, not 30 miles away. In any case, the pet shop owner, a little old lady, armed me with some knowledge on how to keep a Betta. And Traz (Don’t ask me how I came up with that weird name) lived a decently long life.
I believe after getting my first local job at Sanmina Corporation, I celebrated by getting a 10 gallon tank. My knowledge of fish keeping was still very basic, I had a book on keeping bettas, but knew nothing of non-anabantoids. Traz stayed in the bowl. In the new tank I put in black Mollies and red sword tails, but I didn’t have a filter. I had instead bought a powerhead-Figuring the fish basically just need oxygenation.
Well they got oxygen alright, about 250gph (gallons per hour) in a small 10 gallon tank. Stupid me. The current was so powerful it stressed the fish too much and they perished. Well, the sword tails I found out were prone to jumping out of the tank, and I also didn’t have a lid-So it wasn’t all the powerheads fault… yeh.
After I found out what I did wrong, I got an undergravel filter kit for the 10 gallon. Doing some research on the net, I found out why my new tank was cloudy, the cycling process, etc etc. And soon I bought another pair of black mollies. After the first day of their purchase, my grandparents had visited and were looking at my little tank, and laughing from recalling what I did with their fish tank as a child. Then my grandmother made the comment, “Oh, Ronnie! Are those little bugs in your tank?”
Puzzled, I took a closer look and was awestruck. One of the mollies had given birth.
Of course I had no idea what sex they were, let alone notice a pregnancy. Hell, I didn’t even know they were livebearers. And so it was, I did some research, and figured out how to raise the mollies. And I’d say that was pretty much the start of my fixation in aquarium keeping. It definitely wasn’t proper, and I still didn’t know what I was doing, but the fry survived to adulthood, and were eventually traded.
About a year or so into Mission college, I met a fellow student, who was related to a childhood classmate of mine. His name is Roy. Afterwhile, Roy and I started hanging out and found that he and his cousin (my former classmate) were hardcore fish keepers-Both having marine tanks. That’s way beyond me, even today. Roy would later major in marine biology, and scuba dives.
Anyway, Roy loaned me his 37 gallon Marineland Eclipse setup. A big step up from the 10 gallon, at least in my eyes. Big tank equals bigger fish, I thought. And so I started keeping African Cichlids.
Mind you, again, I stepped into a world of knowledge that I had yet to learn. Firstly, Traz was very much alive. And he was still the biggest fish I had. I figured, an adult Betta should be fine with other fish as big as he. He won’t bother the cichlids, and he should be much happier in such a large tank. I figure I’ll go ahead an move him in after establishing my newly acquired cichlids.
One morning before work, while it was still darker, I moved Traz into the cichlid tank. I let him swim around a little and finally turned on the lights. The cichlids (1 convict, 1 bright white, and two electric blue socolafi) took notice of Traz. They swam up to Traz, a betta, goes “shields up” in anticipation for attack, and just as quickly, the cichlids backed off. I saw that and was confident, things should be fine in the tank. So I fed them all, got ready for work, and spent a good five minutes watching Traz happily exploring the rocky, fake plant plentiful, and vast new world.
Of course this story turns for the worse. When I got home, I couldn’t immediately find Traz. After a good few minutes of searching frantically, there he was …Or rather what was left of him. The cichlids must have ganged up on him after I had left for work. What remained of Traz was his skull, fully depleted of all his glorious pigments-With the exception of a heavily faded blue on his lips. The cichlids are very thorough.
That was rather heartbreaking. Up to that point, Traz was in my care for a good 2 years. I did take good care of him. Did the water changes, fed him well. Seems never a day without some addition to his bubble nests at the top of the bowl. He was a happy little betta; Yet my efforts to make him happier had failed and led to his violent destruction. (Queue Mozart’s Lacrimosa)
I can probably go on with a plethora of odd often amusing fish keeping stories with the cichlid tank alone. Keeping that tank was actually hard work, and became quite expensive as they grew and required more food. More food, means more waste, means more upkeeping. Not to mention how destructive they are to personal vision of an aquascape. If they’re powerful enough to move and drag it, they will. It was kind of annoying, but you got used to it.
I will recall one brief amusing story.
One day, my cousins brought over their kids. The daughter, Meshelle-Anne, I call her Meany-She was looking with awe at the cichlid tank. I asked her if she wanted to go with me to the local fish store (LFS) to get my cichlids some new friends. And so she went with me. We went to the feeder tank, and I let her pick out 10 fish friends! (this place let you fish out feeders yourself)
And so I bagged them all up and let her carry the fish to the register. She told clerk with excitement that “Uncle let me pick out some new friends for his fish!” The teller asked me what fish I had, and I told her “cichlids” with a wink. She looked at the little girl and smiled then gave me a momentary look of disgust which turned into a small laugh and shrug. She figured I was playing a kind of mean joke on Meany.
On the way home, Meany was amusing herself by naming all the fish. This little joke was going so well, I thought!
When we got home, she ran up to my tank with the bag of feeders, urging me to put them in quickly. I oblige, no need to acclimate feeders after all. I pulled out the net and proceeded to drop them all in.
Of course the feeders didn’t last long. As soon as they were in, the cichlids were in hot pursuit. The golden scales flew rapidly around the tank, as one by one each feeder was swallowed hole by my gang of cichlids. The look on meany’s face was obvious and total shock! Wish I had a camera.
Seems however that the fragile childlike innocence, the empathy, the pain, and sorrow had quickly faded from Meany, and she exclaimed. “Uncle that was cool! Can we get more fish?!”
This blog is become far more lengthy than I had anticipated, but I’m having fun writing it. Hope you don’t mind the read.
Let’s fast forward to present time. Yes, I had just gotten a 20 gallon tank, and procured some money to put it together. I’m actually quite proud of what I accomplished so far. I had previously gotten two smaller pico tanks. One 2.5 gallon that still houses my current Halfmoon Betta, named Alvar (old Norse for “vigilant”), and a 3 gallon Eclipse tank that I got for six dollars at a Salvation Army (LOL!)-That housed 5 Harlequin Rasboras, a black Kuhli Loach, a Nerite Zebra Snail and a couple Amano Shrimp. Obviously it was overstocked, but I kept it well enough, and all it’s inhabitants are now safely transferred into the new 20 gallon. In additioin I’ve added another Amano, three Cherry Red Shrimp, seven Neon Tetras, and a fiddler crab.
One major thing difference from when I first started is now I’m also keeping live plants. Believe it or not the Wisteria, Alternentha, Java Moss and Onion Grass had all flourished in the pico tanks-Actually taking up much of the little space, hence my eventual move to a larger tank. Flourish Excel and decent lighting in such tiny tanks sure did the trick. I’ve actually clipped some wisteria given them away.
Yet I’m now having trouble with the plants. It seems the transfer to the new tank hasn’t gone well for the Wisteria as it’s starting to melt a bit. It’s only been about a week, and they’ll probably bounce back, but I am very concerned because my lighting is definitely inadequate. It may be enough for these low light plants, yet the tiny pico tank lights are perhaps not penetrating deeply enough into the 20 gallon tank. I should have tested the lights before I so hastily started putting this tank together. I was just too excited. So now I have to hope the plants survive until my next pay day which is in 10 days. (Sigh) At least the fish, the snail, and the invertebrates are doing well.
BUT– Will I last 10 days is the next question.
Work as a Dollar Tree stocker is becoming more frequently frustrating. I almost quit last night, or rather, this early morning. That’s one problem I have, I am not acclimating well to the graveyard shift. I just can’t seem to get enough sleep these days. In the last 48 hours, I had maybe 4 hours of sleep. Furthermore, it’s ruining my appetite. I hardly eat anything anymore. Today is my favorite day of the week, Tuesday cheap chicken day at Popeye’s, and I had to force myself to eat my usual 4 pieces. Because I’ve been so tired, I haven’t made it to the gym much, and tho I’m losing weight, it’s not good weight. I feel like my body is just imploding in on itself.
The work is another aspect that I’m frustrated with. It seems I’m just too slow. I’m supposed to keep with a certain flow and speed-I just don’t feel very motivated to go any faster. Eight dollars an hour, maybe 20-24 hours a week, very bad logistics in moving in the product, backstocking, and upstocking. It just drives me crazy. I want to read the order count, the shipping manifests on paper, not just pick up a box and look at the count, and then try to find the matching product amongst other randomly piled boxes of products that all look the same! I’ve learned that I am a visual learner, I need to recognize and interpret, then take action. Taking the time to open up each box of product to see what it is just takes up too much time and is driving me nuts. That on top of keeping the shelves organized so I can fit everything-Yeah, honestly, I’d rather have everything cataloged, to the point of when something is purchased, you know what it is, where it goes and know it will fit. This random upstocking just …sucks.
They expect it all to be done in such little time, and I know I’m not getting any faster at it. My mind is so lost in negativity because of all these factors that when I’m working, I’m an emotional wreck. And when I’m not working, I think about work and how it’s affecting me outside of it that I’m still an emotional wreck. Look, I haven’t even written anything for my blogsite here until now. I’ve just been too far gone.
I am truly not happy working there. The people are fine, but the work, well it’s just not for me. Again, the payrate and (too little) schedule are not motivating. I’m at the point that where every little annoyance is becoming a very big annoyance. I was thinking about work earlier today and associating it with killing myself. It’s that bad!
What can I do tho? Earning a little money is better than no money, right? But is it really worth my physical and mental well-being to earn that little money?