Book of Jamez

55 y/o malcontent, something of a writer

Category: Jamez

  • Job Seeking

    Suggestions for staffing agencies keep coming to mind, but I’ve only told one agency what they should do to improve their services. Here are some common items that would make the process better for all parties:

    • Standardize and computerize forms. It’s 2006 people, all of this can be done on a computer, not only making it easier on the applicant, but also making the data more accessible and searchable for Employers.
    • Computer peripherals need upgrading. An applicant should have non-sticky keyboards, a smooth flow (optical preferred) mouse, and a decent work station from which to test.
    • Consolidate test information. Three of the agencies I’ve applied to this week had the exact same tests. My scores were relatively the same, this is wasting my time and yours, talk to one another.
    • Don’t call me every day to ask me if you can send out my resume… That’s why I came to you in the first place: So you could find me a job.
    • Be friendly to prospective clients. Whether they are job seekers or employers, treat them with the same level of respect you would like to receive. Only one agency had a truly rude receptionist, but all of them should be aware of the impression they set for your company.

    I’m done ranting now, time to look for more jobs.

  • Ready, Set…

    I’m packed, mostly, the computer is still up (obviously) and I have some cleaning to do… but I am ready.

    I think it will be ok if I leave today, so that’s my goal, to head out for DC now, otherwise I’m basically sleeping on the floor tonight anyway.

  • Learning to Swim

    I just wanted to fit in, all the other kids knew how to swim, but there I was in my trunks without a real clue what to do in the water. Sure I waded in and splashed about, but I had no idea how to kick my feet and move my arms to swim like everyone else.

    I didn’t want to appear as if I didn’t know what I was doing, so I faked it. I bent over my arms stretched as far as they would go, flailing about like they were propelling me and probably making more splashes then anyone else, but my feet were still planted firmly on the ground. I would walk around the lake, arms still slapping up and down against the water, once in a while I’d look up and tell my Mom that I was swimming. They all knew of course, I guess it was pretty obvious, that I was faking it.

    Then one day it happened, I slipped. I lost my footing and was propelled forward in the water like a rocket, at first panic struck and I thought for sure I was gonna get stuck underwater or something. But soon I was kicking my legs, wiggling my body as I moved under the water, I had learned how to swim and it was the most glorious of occasions.

    *

    It has been 12 years since I slipped into sobriety and found a better way of life. At first I faked it, there couldn’t be a God that believed in me or a way to live without drugs or alcohol, I just pretended and tried to fit in, moving my arms like I saw the other spiritual kindergarteners doing.

    Then one day it happened, I let go. I let go of all my fears, hatreds and just had to trust one person, and then more people. And I found myself rocketed into a fourth dimension of existence, from which I have found no substitute (nor do I want to) that could compare to the wonders of life. There are things in life I never imagined possible, that have filled me with such joy and happiness I cannot even describe them.

  • Classes draw near their end…

    Today was the last Self-Defense class, got an A… woo hoo. Not sure I could actually defend myself, but I could give it more of a try than I could have before.

    I took my final exam for my World Literature Class on Sunday, still waiting on a grade for the class.

    This morning or was it afternoon? I finished my research paper on the dreaded subject: Hamlet. I am only proud of the last paragraph of it.

    All I have to worry about now is imaginary number in real live algebra.

  • Bunchism by Proxy

    It was the same every night, she’s sit there; bare legs tucked under her, a romance novel in one hand and the other holding some chocolate or perhaps a fork with a piece of steak on the end. Usually, if us kids had been lucky we had Mac and Cheese for dinner… if not just the mac. There always seemed to be money for a new romance novel, chocolate and steak for Mom, but mac and cheese was a luxury.

    The four of us were, in retrospect, starved for attention. We’d come up with little shows or dance acts to put on for Mom and whichever Dad happened to be there at the time. There are the four of us, doing a performance of Elvira by the Oak Ridge Boys, bouncing up and down and mouthing the lyrics. I wonder now who was the choreographer and who was the brains behind such schemes. Mom would watch us and smile always enjoying the show, unless or course something else was on that she needed to watch that meant we had to be quiet.

    Maybe the truth behind it all is we had Brady Bunchism, the need to be dorky in a group.

  • Boolean Society

    At the 100th Anniversary Convention of the Boolean Society, the worlds most secret organization, the biggest conspiracy of them all is finally revealed. The organizations members with the most clout, money, meet to discuss the history of math and how their vast plan has moved forward over the centuries.

    It all started with two people in particular who hated everything to do with the art, music and theatre. They set out to slow down such frivolous nonsense by creating something that would slow the creative process and keep things more orderly and sane. In the beginning it was difficult, pressing the need to learn a few simple equations to mostly simple folk, but their idea won out—largely due to the complex circles in which the mathematician could talk. They would say, “x + y = y + x is the same as 1 + 2 = 2 + 1” and the common folk would respond, “so x is 1?” The Boolean would then explain that this was the case here, but in other situations the x could equal 252 or the y could equal the one as well. The common folk, immediately decide this is too much for them to decipher and hand over the reigns of all money handling to the Booleans. This goes on for years, the Booleans confusing the populace with x2 + 3y = 35 or x times itself is x2 and x + x is 2x.

    Then a more enlightened person steps forward and proclaims this is nonsense, and starts to preach at the people, these Booleans are twisting the shape of numbers. The Booleans freeze all this persons assets, he becomes a penniless bum mumbling on the streets and considered by most to be insane.

    Booleans find themselves in places of power within governments throughout the world. After years of the same formulas working they decide to change things up lest someone catches on and reveals their entire plot.

    Unexpected help comes from a young woman in her 30s in college, an artist; forced by rules set up by the Booleans to take math courses that have her head spinning. She catches on to the formulas and the math/algebra starts to make sense, in a research paper to her Algebra Professor she creates a series of problems that stump even the top Boolean official. Her creativity, of course, is a death sentence they cannot allow the delicate balance to change even slightly so they kill her. Her ideas, if an answer doesn’t solve properly just cube it times itself is stolen and implemented into the plan immediately. This effect sends several Liberal Arts majors to seek ways to commit suicide.

    The true celebration comes when the Booleans celebrate their greatest achievement ever: the number i. “The number i is such that i = √-1 (which is the same as saying i2 = -1).” The imaginary number. This concept, to further the confusion of the people, meant if an equation didn’t work out, just multiply it by i and it will all make sense. This i keeps all the money flowing into the hands of the Booleans, their vast fortunes shape the very political and socioeconomic landscape for all cultures.

    Chances are, when this is published I’ll be murdered by Booleans quoting such equations as x2 – 6x + 9 = (x – 3) (x + 3) or √-64 is not real. The formulas themselves may be the death of me… pray for your average college student. And God save you from the Booleans.

  • Changes

    I’ll be moving back to Washington, DC in one month (+/- a day or two).

    What prompted? Well, mostly the recent trip up there for Michelle’s wedding. Even though it was a five hour trip (the way up there) and the tourists were in the streets like diaper rash on a baby… I realized I miss it: I have so many friends/family there… and reliable PUBLIC transportation, and jobs abound… My old room is available, with my old roommate (who I’m sure my cats miss, and I do too).

    So there you are… DC bound.

  • Fresh Coffee and Broad Grins

    It’s cold and I’m tired, hat pulled down low over my eyes I step into the 7-11. I can smell the coffee brewing right away, my destination is just ahead I can almost taste the coffee scalding its way down my throat.

    “Hi.” comes a voice, through the fog that is my morning. I glance up and see a handsome man, nice goatee and broad smile, he works here, I see the 7-11 name marks him Ray. “Hi.” I say in return.

    Fill up my coffee, two packets of Splenda and three creams, stirring them together till the color is a milky brown; I know it’s still to hot to drink, but God I want to, place one of their lids on and head toward the counter to pay for it.

    “I love your shirt.” Ray says, I have to look down, so tired I’m not sure what I’m wearing.

    “Oh, yeah this is one of my favorites,” one of my many Superman shirts, this one portrays him on a comic book cover, “I have a tattoo to match.” I say and start to roll up the sleeve of my jacket.

    “Your hat too,” he says, I realize I’m also wearing the hat and feel the fool. He probably thinks I’m a dork, “are you a collector? It looks good on you.”

    “Thanks.”

    “That’ll be $1.53.” he says, still grinning broadly.

    I pull two wrinkled one dollar bills out of my wallet and hand them to him, he punches some numbers into the register the drawer pops out and he slides the money into its place.

    “People collect stuff, it’s cool. I collect some stuff too…” he says and closes the drawer. Suddenly he realizes my hand is out waiting for my change and his grin disappears, and his face turns crimson. “I’m sorry, can’t believe I did that.” and hands me the 0.47 cents he owes me.

    “Thanks, I hope you have a great day.” I smile and start to walk out.

    “You too, you too” he says as the door slowly closes.

    As I enter the car, I turn one last time… there he is looking at me, that broad grin fresh on his face.

  • DJ

    his tongue drops brandy on my lips
    heart pulses
    hard, hot, steel rod
    in my hand

    trace fingers over silken chest
    sweat trickles, salty sweet
    migrate to manhood
    thirst, hunger, greed… or need

    panting, groaning
    twin bed creaking
    pain and heat,
    friction so sweet

    legs a vice around him
    pulling him deeper, harder
    tempo, crescendo
    white lava spurts

    he growls and thrusts
    pain and need fulfilled
    with lust

  • foster home

    brown house now blue
    gray hair then and now too
    Ma in rocker knitting
    Pa in recliner

    fear crawls up my spine
    my bags packed, all that is mine
    social worker pressures shoulder
    keeps me from running

    dinner together, conversation and laughter
    alien world, foreign notions – food a plenty
    tears delay that first night,
    though hard fought, buried deep

    rules, responsibility, chores
    wake up myself for school
    wash dishes, mow lawns
    allowance? what’s that?

    foster brother and i
    share smokes and stories
    on the front patio
    now enclosed, then exposed

    three years teach me, show me love me
    five years gone, back i come to make right
    show them i’ve found the light
    love unconditional, no exceptions

    dc bound, to find my way
    just call anytime
    no questions asked
    you can always come home

    breast cancer scare,
    tears unhindered
    stream down my cheeks
    fear strikes deep and hard

    twenty years later, college bound
    ma and pa, rhonda and greg
    come to see the sites,
    nope!
    to see me off, wish me well, show me love

    the family i didn’t choose
    forced upon me by action of youth
    became the one that mattered most
    showed me the truth of love itself