Bus writing.

With the second morning delivery the K7 Hyer Gaskets had arrived. Finally. Of course the piping and system-lock orders had arrived some 2, 2-and-a-quarter days ago. Flexing the schedule, bending the reqs and allocating the time to other, thirsty projects had been a task, and a hard one at that. The progress of this particular job, this specific effort, was the only thing that was suffering.

Well, that and my back, thought Brims.

The throbbing felt from the well placed shiner─ compliments of Hark Felton’s left hook─ from the night before… was not included in his thought of ailments.

Attention turned, a glimmer that appeared to leap, or spark, shone off one of those classic, handled metal lunch pails─ the type seen carried by the men who had constructed America’s original roster of skyscrapers. Or bridge suspenders. It was a replica, still new, still sharp in its condition; the prize of a single bidder eBay auction… turned birthday present.

“Ya gotta take your lunch in something,” she’d said with her stupid smile.

Wiping the smile clean was as easy as: that’s what paper sacks are for Darlene. Ya idiot… How much was this thing?

Hey life, check this one off the list.

If we each went through life with a giant, comprehensive check list of things that we want to achieve or realize in our life, we’d probably live a considerably more depressed life on account of seeing all those unrealized aspirations. (wow, that was bleak)

Aside from that … If said list existed, I would have just checked off one, very line-item. Earlier this week I (with the much needed and appreciated help from my parents, who saved me from having this opportunity fall victim to the dolts at Bank of America-Washington) put down a deposit on two Seahawks season tickets! That’s right, I did not stutter.

I HAVE 2 SEAHAWKS SEASON TICKETS! 100 Level, by the home-team tunnel. It was a strike of lucky lightening for me, a stroke of luck that always misses me. One of my co-workers was kind enough to introduce me to the opportunity, foregoing the waiting list, getting sweet seats for a low price.

(The season tickets will not be in my name… which means I will be getting on the waiting list, with my name… to ensure future season ticket purchase.)

I am a pretty big sports fan, more so in my youth, but primed for a revitalization. The Seahawks are and always have been my favorite franchise. If you think about it, you may gather that it explains a lot about me. They’re frustrating to watch, usually under-perform, loving mediocrity.

When moving to Seattle, these tickets were something I was aiming to achieve.

I cried when I lost my Curt Warner signed hat.

Still, in my possession (but somewhere in storage, in Idaho), I have possibly the largest Dan McGwire card collection.

At one point I had a one jersey, at least 2 framed posters and a reluctant dedication (that lasted too long) of Rick Mirer.

I’ve met, shaken hands with Steve Largent (also: stared at with admiration) and still believe he is the greatest white WR in the game’s history.

I currently alternate my viewings, wearing a Matt Hasselbeck or Chris Warren jersey. I’m working on a Cortez Kennedy and will be purchasing a new, current player jersey (J. Peterson, Lofa… TJ Duckett!?!?!?).

I will be at each and every home game for the 2008 season, with a different comrade, soaking it in.

I’m happy as happy can be, about this.

Years of training.

For, more or less the entirety of my life (save the last 3 weeks and any time before the age of 5)I have been a pleased and efficient user of PCs. The microsoft environment and I have grown up together. You know what I'm sayin' Windows, you too MSFT suite!

Now, in a move to not bring myself further along in a quest to be hip or more cutting edge, I have become, for the most part, a mac user. I was just thrown into this situation, never given a chance and just assigned a new mac upon my first day of my new job. The programs, the applications, they're more or less the same and the OS is easy enough to understand ... the biggest component is learning hot keys, introducing yourself to a brand new landscape of buttons. Sure, its not like Apple is building a product without QWERTY, I mean, jesus ... that's unspeakable.

I'm on my laptop for the first time since I started work. That's right, I haven't touched ol' faithful in a matter of three weeks. That's beside the point.

I'm already reaching for that silly apple key to initiate hot-keys sequences ... and finding my most pointless ALT button not performing the way my hands have adapted, have become conditioned in such a short amount of time.

Other than that ... we cool.

Btw, I'm sitting in my favorite Tullys right now. Or "my office" as I liked to call it before my attainment of employment a few weeks back. These two men, who are sitting next to me, appear to be in their late 40's and the best way that I can sum them up is that they were the guys portrayed in 80's ski movies. Let's paint this one with the broad stroke of a single brush ... douchebaggery.

A basket of development.

What is life… without development? A series of non-valued occurrences that have all the taste of wet cardboard.

For a significant amount of time, in my life, I’ve looked at the need for development to occur from each and every experience that I have in life. Whether it’s as insignificant as eating a type of JELLY (on my shooooes) that you don’t like or as significant as being fired from your job … there’s development to be had, that will aid you in the future…. You don’t eat that jelly on your toast, you don’t do the things that led to your dismissal.

See what I mean? Nothing remarkable to wrap your head around.

An experience can affect you on either side of the positive / negative spectrum, and anywhere in-between. From the tingling sensation that courses through your veins, wrapping itself around your spine… blossoming flowers of joy throughout you to those of the vile nature that you’d rather have an internal organ crudely removed, than deal with.

If you will, picture each and every experience that you have … as a piece of fruit. An edible, tangible good, complete with seeds. Whether it's sweet and succulent or horned and taste of non-bathed taint… you eat it down, eat it to receive the seeds. As the seeds, they bear the essence of the experience, the knowledge, the component that leads development.

With the seeds of the experience in hand, it is time to plant, it is time to develop. You plant the seeds of each and every experience in what I refer to as your “field of knowledge,” an expansive landscape that stretches beyond your eye, to infinity. The planted seeds sprout their roots, growing into plants of knowledge … their size depending on your assignment of significance. Most plants are small and offer little progress… but when combined with other small, blades of development … they become a meadow of awareness, helping you develop for life’s next experience(s).

Just some food for thought.

The Choo-Choo.

One beer before leaving the office, one cig on the way to the station and I was ready to go. Ready to go on my first of many train rides to the City of Roses, during my years that I will spend in Seattle. Due to its nature of being my first ride, it was bound to be one of incredible education.

After checking in and receiving my ticket it was time to stand in line, awaiting seat assignment. Standing silently, with my bags and right before I was to receive my seat I hear one of the two girls standing behind me ask “who smells like beer?” Next thing you know, we’re assigned seats together (sitting at one of the tables, with four seats) along with a literal choir-boy. Let’s make this a long story short … these girls were obnoxious (one more than the other), loud, punk-music loving hooligans that were hell bent on getting wasted on the train. They offered me booze, I accepted.

After roughly a pint of vodka, a few hands of spades and suffering through looks of a nasty nature from everyone in our car (thanks, incredibly loud and annoying punk girl)… I accepted the fact that I was a) not going to get watch last week’s episode of LOST that I had just put on my iPhone b) read c) be able to write and combined with my increasing buzz, I decided that it was time to see what the lounge/bistro car was all about.

Much to my surprise not only did the lounge car offer cheap brews but they also had sundries, including my FAVORITE sundry … pepcid AC. Which, was a big deal seeing as how I had forgot mine and I knew that the night would hold many heartburn inducing activities. Whilst in this car, I met an elderly fellow by the name of Ed. Ed was retired military and had a mighty illustrious career that spanned over 35 years, seeing action in: Vietnam, Panama, Kosovo, Iraq, Afghanistan, and so on. We talked about his kids (all talented from the sounds of it), we talked about where I was going and the fact that he was going to visit a friend, a lady friend, who had known for years and had grown increasingly close to, most of it culminating in the weekend that he was about to have. This exact topic is what struck me as amazing, something that filled my head with wonderment that circle around a simple, central theme … it doesn’t matter how old you are that when you have a new romance in your life, it feels as if it’s the first time something like that has ever happened to you, a new/blank slate that is ready to be drawn upon. Ed complimented me on my approach and general outlook on life, I thanked him.

The train arrived a few minutes late, but I had no problem with that.

Bussing.

For whatever reason (actually I know, or at least, can theorize a few of them; but won’t) I have never looked highly upon public transit. My bus riding years, as a child, were incredibly limited and outside of my Freshman year in Eugene, I’ve probably utilized public transit enough times to be counted on one hand.

Upon moving back to the great Pacific Northwest, to Seattle, one of the things that I was wanting was that of an urban (or at least more than LA) vibe. A component of such living is that of being a patron of public transit.

Now nearly two months into living up here, 1 flex pass I received as part of my new job, later … I find myself aboard the 255 bus to Seattle, headed to work.

(Stating the obvious) The seats of the bus fill one-by-one, stop-by-stop. Lifting my head, from my spot near the back, I eye the new riders, feeling like an ass for using my eyes and body language to convey that I do not wish to be sat next to.

“Seat’s taken,” I unfold with a southern drawl, Greenbow, AL style.

If it weren’t for the fact that I have two bags with me, my looks and eyebrow raises would prove fruitless. With that said, I’ll stop.

(Side note: I am listening to the 06 Radiohead – Greek Theater performance, and… my iPhone has already skidded across the floor once. Eep.)

My non-car traveling does not end with my bus ride to work and it will not end with a bus ride home. Rather, I will be boarding the 5:30 Amtrak destined for Portland, for the weekend. This, my friends will be only my second time on a choo-choo0, for the first time the train I am on will be non-stationary.

3.5 hours of rail-gliding fun.

At this moment, I have an incredibly romanticized picture of how this train ride will be. Drinks in the lounge care, witty banter with strangers, maybe a little book reading, some time for writing and if I’m lucky … perhaps a murder mystery! (I’d settle for a horse aided train robbery)

Until later. Like when I’m train commuting.