Rehoming

Been looking at getting a new living space. My friends have been fantastically supportive, but I have been feeling like a sponge - besides, despite my lack of permanent employment, I do need my own space. Sooooo, I have been cruising around seeing what Hardin County has to offer. Some places are a bit... um, rural, and others are slightly... let's say "seasoned" (although "seedy" also comes to mind). Although today I did find some places that are both cheap and structurally sound. Earlier this week I visited an apartment that could best be described as having all the best elements of early 80s Beirut - to include an incredible selection of dead cockroaches all over a filthy carpet -the owners claimed that the carpet had just been steam cleaned (steam rolled more likely). Impressive, most impressive. I especially liked how they tried to shrug off the extensive water damage to the floor and ceiling. And my friends swear that they saw bullet holes outside the neighbor's unit (hmmm, guess who has the clandestine crystal meth lab in their apartment?).

Escape-shimasu!

Well, at least now we know that I'm not unemployable. Finished up my week at Ambrake, and actually made a very good impression on my bosses - they spoke to some higher-ups about me, with a recommendation for some kind of better position. What these folks decide to do is totally up in the air (and I'm not going to hold my breath), but it is nice to know that hard work is appreciated. I'm going to call my employment people this morning to try to find some more temp work. I wonder if this will be the cycle for the forseeable future? Perpetual temp work, moving from factory job to factory job each and every week?

Hos nostra germania catharos appellat

Indeed, I am begining to subscribe to the Catharistic interpretation of Hell as this world itself.
It makes sense, and I take great comfort in the thought that if this life is indeed the netherworld, then it is the devil we know (if you'll excuse the pun).
Anyhow, my job continues to suck - I can't tell you how difficult it is to stand for eight hours a day, concentrating on little metal plates, without speaking or changing tasks or positions. Imagine an eternity of doing this.
It reminds me of a joke I once heard:
A fellow is sent to Hell and is met by the Devil himself and given a tour of the place. "Now, you know, you'll have to pick a room where you'll spend the rest of your days here in Hell." said the Dark One. They visited a number of different locations - in one, people were doing hand stands on broken glass and nails. "Hmmm, that looks painful" thought the man. In another room people were standing on their heads being prodded with pitchforks by demons and burnt by their flaming nostrils. "Well that doesn't look promising" he said. Along innumerable rooms the man saw much of the same thing; people standing on their hands, being tormented and abused in thousands of variations. Finally they came upon a place where a dozen or so people were standing upright, up to their waists in manure, drinking coffee and chatting happily. "Ah, this doesn't look too bad" said the man, and indicated to the Devil that this was were he would like to spend eternity. "Are you sure?" asked the Devil. "Absolutely" confirmed the man. So he was led in and assigned a spot. No sooner, though, had he gotten comfortable that a loudspeaker on the wall of their room came on and barked out "Okay everyone, coffee break is over - back on your heads!".
That is pretty much how I feel about my job. The first five hours are okay - it is the last three that really start to get painful. I hate to sound like a whinging prat - I have done hard labour before, and I don't mind physical work, but for the miniscule amount of pay we receive versus the tremendous amount of work we do, this job is bad.

Welcome to my world

I now know there are far worse things than unemployment. Hello Dear Readers, yours truly, Ushiku Person, has finally found some temporary and unstable work as a highly unskilled drone at Ambrake - a Japanese manufacturer of automobile brakes. This Fourth-Circle of Hell is everything you could wish for: kitsui, kitanai and kiken (difficult, dirty and dangerous - the perfect 3K job!). Yesterday, one of the countless job agencies I registered with called me at one o'clock and offered me this gem (start time: 3:00 p.m.). I stand in a glassed-in box, surrounded by machinery, assembling two kinds of shims, placing these shims on a carrier, and placing these carriers onto a feed tree on the machine in front of me, while simultaneously also feeding brake pads into the same machine. I also have to replenish the myriad of metal and plastic parts that must be feed into the machines to my left and right respectively. I have to maintain a steady rate of production, while also running back and forth to the supply door to get fresh expendibles (and marking these on the correct forms). It isn't rocket science, but I have to really concentrate to keep all these things flowing - last night, being my first time, wasn't particularly fun, but I kept my head down, my ears open and my mouth shut. It is so loud that I can barely hear my co-workers - which doesn't really matter since I'm physically seperated from them by a bank of machinery, and they don't wish to associate with me because I'm only a temp anyways. I have to wear special rubber gloves to protect my hands from all the sharp edges and greasy dirty stuff (these gloves are actually quite amazing; they are relatively thin, so I have decent tactile feel, but still strong enough so that I can work with sharp metal bits and heavy boxes without tearing). There is no slacking off at all in this job - I had to really bust my keister to keep on par with the material demands. It all depends on the operator - most keep a steady rate, but one veteran woman, whose rate of production is phenominal, had me hopping around for two hours straight just trying to keep the bare minimum of supplies rolling in -whew!- She nearly killed me! Right now I'm trying to psyche myself up for Day Two. I'm not looking forward to this, but it is a matter of pride that I at least try to finish a full week here. I have done this kind of work before, but I had kinda hoped that by this stage in my life I would have found something slightly better (what was point to going to university?).
UPDATE: I just called my employment agency and explained that, for $6.00 an hour (before taxes), this job really wasn't my cup of tea. I told them that I would be happy to finish out the week (to include the weekend, because at Ambrake they do regularly work seven-day work weeks...), but on Monday I would appreciate if they could find me something just a little better. They seemed thrilled that I even bothered to call in and give them a heads-up (this job is so unstable that you have to give a two day notice before quitting... wha...?). Heck, if I waited tables at Dennys at least I'd get tips...

Soupy

This past week has been humid. I mean, really humid - like, when I go running in the morning it feels more like swimming, but without the refreshing coolness of swimming (just the moistness). The few neighbors who are out and about at that time in the a.m. look at me as some sort of masochist (and it probably reinforces their belief that there must be better ways to get exercise - tractor pulls being one of them). When I lived in Japan it got humid like this every summer. Tokyo especially had its particularly mushi atsui days - those kinds where despite the fact that you wore zori flip-flops, shorts and a t-shirt, it felt like you were wrapped up in a blanket (a very thick, wooley one). Just imagine having to walk to work and take the train on one of those days! One of the things I did like about summers in Japan were the fire works and the ice cream! When I lived in Kamata in Ota-ku there was an old fashioned ice cream called natsukashi ice. I wish I had some right now...

Play some of that old timey music

My friends have got Satellite Radio in their car, and it is like magic, because we can tune into the all-80s station and pretend that it is nineteen-eighty-something all over again. When I was a kid the "oldies" station used to play 50s music. Now it plays golden classics from the 70s (Bee Gees and ABBA all the time!). Soon I'll be in my Depends, drooling over the music-bot as it trundles around me playing Cindi Lauper while cleaning up the mess I made on the carpet (again). Heed me well, Youth of Today: one day, and sooner than you think, you'll be relegated to the trash heap of cool, and your music will be spun by some smarmy condescending youngster who studied "your" time period in university (and has such a deep understanding and appreciation for your quaint phrases and terminology) - Yeaaahhhaa!

Missing Blogger

Has anyone seen or heard from Kit Ten? It looks as if her blog has picked up stakes and moved - either that, or it was abducted by a UFO. If her blog isn't on its way to Rigel (or caravaning across the electron deserts of the Internet), please let us know that all is well! It was just so weird how it was there one minute, and then -pwaang!- gone the next. Could any of us disappear so completely so quickly? Indeed, our time here on this world-wide-webbish coil is so tenuous and fleeting at best... If I should suddenly go up in pixelated smoke (or pixilated - depending on the circumstances) I'd hope that you'd all remember that I once existed, too.

Frustration doesn't grow on trees, you know!

No, it must be coaxed, and carefully husbanded so that one day it will grow into a great big mushrooming cloud of despair. Had a very bad day. Unfortunately, my employment plans, which looked so rosy last week, have gone super-kablooey. I hate it when sure-things go kablooey. Have I become... (I hate to say it) -gulp- "unemployable"? Eeee gads, Noooo!! Which employment dieties did I tick off to deserve this? Was I too proud (thus intended by the gods to be destroyed)? Or was it just my haircut?What does a guy have to do to get a job in this country? I'm thinking about going to Mexico, and then sneaking back across the border (at least those guys seem to be able to find work). I feel yuckily depressed right now. Must... fight... depression... KHAN!!!!!!!!

Returnable

Yessiree, just got back from the City of the Big Shoulders, and the ol' E-Town looks just as I left it (well, not exactly - they did manage to put the roof on the house down the street...). Saw the Dixie Dog (pictures to come soon) and she was lovely as ever - I'm now firmly convinced that Dix and Sherm would hit it off (just call me a canine お見合い). Yesterday was July 4th - Happy 230th Birthday, America! - and the village of Addison had a big fireworks display. It was very impressive (it practically shook the frames in the house), but unfortunately, Dixie Dog hates loud boom-like noises (thunder scares her terribly), so she didn't appreciate it so much. Plus, the day before that, we went running (Dixie, her owner, Dave, and myself), and the weather gods decided at the exact moment we were furthest from the house to let loose a torrential downpour of near-biblical proportions. Dixie, being half Alsatian (that's German Shepherd to us American folks) and half Chow, looks like a wooley mammoth German Shepherd (minus the tusks, of course). So, with the water and the heat and the humidity, poor Dixers was in some sorry shape by the time we got home (water-logged and definitely over-heated). Dave decided to give her a trim (which she withstood, like she does with most things, with a stoicism worthy of Marcus Aurelius), and now she looks much cooler, but incredibly smaller (denuded of her copious fur, Dixie looks sadly diminished - I tried to help her salvage some of her dignity by pointedly ignoring the fact that she got a hair cut, and I think it worked to a point). We took her out walking out in some doggy leash-free park that night and many people mistook her for a puppy (which might have gone some way towards making her feel better about her appearance). Now Sherman has returned from his week at the kennel (my friends had a lot of company over for the Independence Day weekend, and Sherm was sent to a very nice place down the road where they dotted over him, gave him lots of walks, treats and an incredible bath - Sherman is practically glowing with cleanliness right now!). He looks great; fit and full! I gave him the report on Dixie. Cross your paws - maybe they might meet yet!