New job

My new job has made my social networking dwindle to a small trickle. My hours switch back and forth, making me feel like I'm always working or thinking about work. It is very interesting though. It's a new world of information. I hear phrases like five aside and FBO and Delta Bravo.For those of you that don't know, I have started working at a aviation fueling station, better known as a FBO, or fixed based operator.

After the end of World War 1, 1918, aviation mostly consisted of transient fliers, going from city to city and offering plane rides and demonstrations to the people because civil aviation was mostly unregulated. They would have people bring over fuel in exchange for a free ticket to these events. Because of this, there was no need for established businesses.

That changed in 1926 because of the Air Commerce Act. Regulations were enforced and pilots began establishing their own businesses for fueling and mechanical needs of aircraft, creating the first FBOs.

Our FBO is contracted with CDF so when there is a fire, like there was today, tankers come and fuel.

My cat just came and jumped on my bed. Her body arches as her hands rhythmically knead the covers. Her purr softens as she turns to look at me and meow loudly, the command for pet me. When I continue and type on the lap top she crawls over, standing a leg on my arm and begins to lick my hand. I shove her away lightly and she jumps down from the bed and mews pathetically. cats.

One minute before ten

My new bed time is 9 o clock. The black imitation clock on my wall clicks a rhythmical 10. Late to bed again. Ah well. I found my camera cord tonight and the pictures are slowly loading onto my computer. That means nothing tonight. The theme f the night is old friends. Think on it.
Turnip purrs a hello.

Morning Glory

It's 7:45 on a Tuesday morning, but it doesn't feel that way. The sun beats down on a single abandoned soccer ball in the middle of the cul-de-sac, casting a long shadow. The birds chirp, soaring over the rooftops in a half hazard swoop. I am waiting for my curling iron to heat up.
Last night my friend Ian had a photo scavenger hunt. I was highly pleased with this idea, and so off I went to discover the results of such intrigue. We were the Shooting Stars, shooting the large overblown over colored movie star posters at Movies 8. From there we spanned a large part of the Redding area looking for things on our typed white list. Regret, a yellow submarine, a figurehead, the list was extensive. We scurried from place to place finding our items and were rewarded at the end of the night with pie and ice cream and laughs as our pictures were slide showed on the t.v.

Saturday Music Video

Really?

My mom just came with a plate of blueberry pancakes at 9:00 at night. I love her. Mothers are really amazing things
I saw a movie today. The theater was cool in the hot summer sun. We settled back into our seats as the lights dimmed, our eyes darting from image to image expectantly. The same old story and I've heard it all before. Boy meets girl. Boy goes after said girl but something gets in the way. We smiled and the sardonic remarks started to flow. But I started to think. It's natural to start to nitpick the seemingly stupid mistakes of the characters of stories. Some call it hindsight, but doesn't the character know that the bad guy is going to come and to jump off the freakin train?? And yet the hero stays and gets caught. We sigh and fidget at their stupidity. And yet what if the hero left at the first sign of trouble. "This guy looks like a villain, I better hightail it out of here" might be what we urge the hero to say, but if he did the story wouldn't continue. And what if the hero wasn't awkward. Would the lady fall for him then? Isn't his gawkiness and awkward behavior what humanizes him and draws the lady towards him? What if the two lovers had run away and hadn't stayed in a nearby hotel? Then they wouldn't have achieved the happily ever after they so yearned for, complete with elephant. I think the point is that the mistakes we make might actually lead us towards our happily ever afters. Think about it.

Ugh

That one girl, ya that one, well yesterday she reminded me that I hadn't blogged in, say, about three months. I waved my hand nonchalantly and said, "Dude, I'm going to write tonight." She told me I wouldn't. I didn't. Now I am. Last night was the country version of the Mosquito Serenade. You don't know what that is? Neither do half the people in my town even though it's been going on for over ten years. I was genuinely perplexed by the texts I received asking what it was. Anyway, how can I explain it....it's a live music event that happens every Wednesday by the river. People wore cowboy hats and were swing dancing. Like that. I tried to blend in but I don't think it worked very well....I'm not very cowboy. I don't even own a plaid shirt. It was nice regardless. I think it is impossible to take me to a live music event and to have me complain about anything* I brought three of my friends with me and we played Phase 10, which I am terrible at. Night well spent. 

Today there is smoke in the sky. It makes everything in the distance seem foggy, like a movie with bad graphics. A faint smokey smell drifts through the breeze, making me a little uneasy. Today is bowling. That one girl just said, "alright" which is code for we need to be going. Get off that chair and put some socks on. It's subtle and I try to ignore these codes, but it will be repeated in another couple of minutes.

I have forgotten what I said each day would be on this blog. I will have to search the archives and find out, or make up a new plan, or NEVER WRITE AGAIN. Ok, that wouldn't really happen. This thing is way too therapeutic. She completely left the room now so that really means, "stop blogging and put socks on." She's back putting her own socks on. Bowling~

* this excludes rap and loud rock music

spring cleaning

The time has come for the over used cliche of spring cleaning. Newspapers are publishing articles on it and people are talking about it like it's some sort of inert force; an instinctual drive that forces people to clean in the thawing warm afternoons of April. I -the ever faithful follower- am attempting to spring clean my life. I started on my room, then drifted around to the rest of the house. The rooms corridors of my brain are a lot harder to clean but I couldn't help myself. It reminds me of the movie I watched recently called Sunshine Cleaning.

" I mean because people don't realize the safety risks involved with the removal of - blood and body fluids."
 "I cannot imagine. You like it?"
"Yeah. I do. We come into people's lives when they have experienced something profound - and sad. And they've lost somebody, you know? And the circumstances, they're always different. But that's the same. And we help. In some small way we..we help."