KnIghtly Knews

 I'm going  to be a DAD! Crystal, now my wife of two years and significant other for 10 years is pregnant! She's puking every other day and has had an overall really unpleasant time these first 8 weeks. I'm excited! and fucking terified of having a baby in this world. We can barely make it by with what we have taking acare of ourselves. Luckily most of our worst problems seem to have abated, with crystals bipolar disorder staying at bay without any substances influencing her mood, and my allergyu bullshit seems not to be killing me that fast or nearly as much. OBGYN says the baby is happy healthy and normal, i"m worried about autism, but I hope and I really god damn hope, Crystal's genes will steer us away from that outcome. Will they be smart? Bueatiful? Just a butt and a nose with pretty eyes? Short, tall? I have no damn clue. There's a lot that can go into this kid that will prep them. I'm worried about my parenting style, I've never takin care of an...

I FORGOT I had a "blog" Thank you google. Might as well make something up while I'm here... As the world now know, because people  read this thing and the stuff posted on the internet lasts an eternity. I had a horrible traumatically bad injury. As I now know, I have been able to make an amazing recovery after a year of working in desperate jobs and hard hard labor. Now I am coasting along, finally figuring out what I am and who I am. I've decided to go back to school to improve my job prospects, and to work part or full time (whatever is available) to see it through. I am not afraid of moving my ass to the boonies or out of state to do so. I need the freedom, it would do me well.

That persistent injury turned out to be massive labral tears in my right hip. I ended up getting blood clots because of surgery. I also missed out on three job opportunities because I was completely disabled for the last three months. I have experienced being dead and have seen what the world would look like without me. The most horrifying thing about this whole experience was the total confirmation that the world could get by perfectly well without me. I am totally replaceable. I wonder if this harsh reality has ever been made as visible to other people, and if it has, how the hold their confidence. Now that it has been a month and three weeks. I am able to function again in the hip, only to have other critical systems fail me. now I can't breathe. AGAIN. Hate the body, kill the mind. resent the body, sharpen it hopefully.

Life sucks... then you die:) A good attention grabber for the subject isn't it? With a quote by Vince McMahon as a base point, how bad can life really seem? Let's explore this topic for a bit... The last thing many people say they have is their health (of course not when they're dying) I've never had this. Compared to the grand scheme of things I'm pretty sure I would have died a long long time ago as an asthmatic baby. So what is the worst that can happen to my health? I have lungs that work part time, a sleep cycle less consistent than an electron, hip flexor injury that just won't go away, creeping depression, and likely some sort of inferiority complex when it comes to doing anything with real worth. How much worse can it get? I've seen how bad life could be. Families crippled by medical debt, which honestly scares me more than my own demise. Asthma so bad that they're bed ridden and totally foreign to the world of physical activity. Real...

I am writing this at the very end of week 3 and the beginning of week 4. I have been taking painkillers far less now and can actually focus a thought or two. Lately I have been hit by an anxiety attack of sorts due to what I believe are two potential blood clots in my left arm. Now that I'm off the painkillers, I noticed how much pain my left arm is in and am able to pinpoint the pencil erasure sized lumps. Week One Every thing is agony. I feel like somebody stuffed a cantaloupe into my hip and stabbed me for the trouble.There is a constant dull pain coupled with a sporadic burning sensation. The upper potion of my right leg is massively swollen. I can hardly  sit, stand, fart, turn, crutch, or even laugh without feeling like I'm being stabbed and bludgeoned at the same time. I'm bruised all around the bandages all the way to my knee, my dick, balls, ass, and lower back. I can't push my piss out, and I can't really sit on the toilet never the less excrete. I ...

What motivates me to workout? Very simple: Being out of shape makes me feel like shit. Hacking up a lung while climbing a staircase, being immobile when you want to exert, and worst of all actually feeling sluggish and weak in body and mind. I understand that time in the gym is often a practice of seeking desirability warranted by others or for oneself. In my case it is intrinsic. I exercise in the effort to stay alive and to have a feeling of power and efficacy. I realize that I will have a very rough transition into public service since I've lived a rather posh and sheltered life physically. So I need to compensate for that and my inherent weaknesses with physical preparation. Emotionally I've been through a pretty good gamut of hell, but I also need to feel as though I can push through personal boundaries and test my limits of physical capability under emotional exhaustion. Though I also workout with a conscious effort to avoid being repulsive. Most people are perfect...

It has come to my attention that the reason people fail to achieve their goals has very little to do with a lack of ability but everything to do with a lack of persistence. I need to find a binding track that will force me along to where I want to be. Without that, I believe I'll find myself far too content with the status quo. I'm getting my ass in gear once my lungs work again. In the mean time, I'll try not to procrasterbate while my life needs to get started. The real world never hits... It's a void unless you fill it with something. Problem is I don't have thing that I believe in enough to fill it with. Aside from the constitution and sympathy and empathy for those without opportunities...

Typing all of your thoughts as fast as you can has a theraputic propoerty to it. now ionly if i could type fast and sccurate. and as fast as i could think i would kick osome serious ass in everything. not only arem y thought slinear, but theiry aloso sequential, usually following the format of an outline without needing one. this is the cauwesed by me writing so long ont using wrtiten outlines and iinstead writing off the ltop of myhead. problem is i write even shitteir than i type.

Is there any merit in being a good person? I don't think that it's a common compliment, that "You're the best person I know." but it's one I've recieved on multiple occasions from multiple people that I have known for long periods of time. And what do I have to show for it? a twisted sense of humor, a spoiled tone, poverty, and a shattered and arrested confidence. When will freedom and independence reign?

One day I will get in touch with my inner drive and wants. And I'm actually afraid of the animal I will become when that happens. I can sense my capability for it. Luckily I have a soft spot for sympathetic stories and underdogs, but in the right environment I can become a horrendously brutal calculating monster. I hope that whenever it does happen, It'll be in an environment where I will be forced into actions that are beneficial to the system.

Be sure to read all of the dock before you judge on any particular entry Something’s are best kept private. What does it take to get somewhere in life, and is it really necessary? I am not apathetic, but the twinge of quite desperation seems like an inescapable spectre, even in the times when I try to "relax" it rears its grey-green head. I'm sure that this feeling will haunt me till I'm old, especially to someone of mediocre talent such as myself. Knowledgeable and somewhat clever, but not consistent enough to amount to anything. I know I'm not alone in this sentiment, millions of others in the world have lived their lives in this manner. Having talents that shine at times, only to find that they're mediocre in the grand scheme. What's it take to escape this whining anxiety? It would be an interesting study to see how much the fear of mediocrity pushes those in the upper ranks of any respective field. If one were to grow up in the U.S among equals, they w...

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After viewing the documentary why we fight (a more comprehensive version of what m papers eventually came to be) combined with the news reports of the investigation of BP through its executive, I have come to realize the inefectuality of the individual in the system we have all taken part to develop. The human condition of being a rational creature causess us to reach ends that effectively cause misery but are rationally unavoidable to individuals. The amount of consideration and incovienience demanded of an individual to avoid such sitations would be eqaully of more oppressive that the ones that we currently perpetrate. No matter the insititution or individual, the appeals of interest are nearly always identical to some sort of self profit, whether it be forones self or for ones percieved benifit to humanity. The actions of an individual in any situation are rationally limited, very few if any take the irrational responses. This does not necessarily mean that human nature is as evilas...

What does it take to get somewhere in life, and is it really necessary? I am not apathetic, but the twinge of quite desperation seems like an inescapable spectre, even in the times when I try to "relax" it rears its grey-green head. I'm sure that this feeling will haunt me till I'm old, especially to someone of mediocre talent such as myself. Knowledgeable and somewhat clever, but not consistent enough to amount to anything. I know I'm not alone in this sentiment, millions of others in the world have lived their lives in this manner. Having talents that shine at times, only to find that they're mediocre in the grand scheme. What's it take to escape this whining anxiety? It would be an interesting study to see how much the fear of mediocrity pushes those in the upper ranks of any respective field. If one were to grow up in the U.S among equals, they would understand what this feels like. Success abound but none for you, unless you throw away everything that...

Today was another hell day at work. I got in at 5:02 pm, two minutes late, and left at exactly 1:45 am. I had a near thirty minute break from 9:47 to 10:15. 4h45m+3h30m=8h15m x 9.0/h= 75.60$ Before I even clocked in, my work day started with a letter that I will now transcribe with descriptive excerpts in parenthesis. I will also type it down to the finest possible detail that I can and will keep the hard copy in case its needed for reference. Andy, (this is written in pen over white out of Will's name) You really need to do something about Saturday nights. If you can't get done what needs to get done I will need to find someone else to work that shift. Every Sunday I get a message from the morning crew stating that things are not getting done on Saturday nights. Here is a list of what was left for me on Sunday morning.... 1 Front counters note wiped down 2 Tables not wiped down 3 Ice cream mix not filled - left empty 4 Front drawers not filled with fries 6 Ho...

Typing all of your thoughts as fast as you can has a theraputic propoerty to it. now ionly if i could type fast and sccurate. and as fast as i could think i would kick osome serious ass in everything. not only arem y thought slinear, but theiry aloso sequential, usually following the format of an outline without needing one. this is the cauwesed by me writing so long ont using wrtiten outlines and iinstead writing off the ltop of myhead. problem is i write even shitteir than i type.

Nuger's gather 5 sources and write a paragraph about each on how the source is relevant to the topic. The Catologue project, making a couple pages of a mock sales magazine containing, duct tape, fancy zero grav cups, treadmills, artificial gravity installments, solar panels. Reading for ethics, and writing up and printing out the case study, catch up with an extra missed article at a time.

I've never really appreciated the importance of keeping any form of journal in keeping track of specific events in my life. But after this last hellish weekend I realized how important it is to document as much as reasonably possible beyond work. Never before have I seen such good friends turn on eachother so fast due to individual egotism and incompetence.

Though I am recollecting a few days after the events at my work, I can assure any reader that they are all accurately described, and that other employees and customers can recall the events. The day was another insane one, with over five parties each orderiing a number of pizzas. The difference this time was that carol was the mid shift to help out amanda and me, and worked with us from roughly noon til the parties we over. The party attendants were overworked, and shawn (or saun) particularly seemed like he was having a hell of a day being cross assigned to do some work of the customer service. Regretfully I did not mention my hours being shaved to Carol, but then there was another occurence this shift. When Carol was working with us, there was easily over twenty dollars in tips in our tip jar. when she she left we had only ten. Amanda and I again didn't take tip, becuase there was nothing to split. I really need to report these occurences to a more official source.

I can now say that my work is shaving my hours. I got paid 7.5 for last weeks shift. Amanda and Shawn witnessed my worked hours and my pay check. Shawn said that management cut ten hours from his paycheck, so I guess hours manipulation isn't unheard of here. I'll bring it to their attention next week that I work. There were no time cards, so i wrote my shift hours on a time card after my shift was completed. Happy Birthday Amanda! I didn't look at my schedule this week, but two weeks ago I was scheduled to work 9-5A.M. I'll call in and get my schedule later this week.