The last thing anyone wants to be is fucking bored in the middle of the night and completely unable to sleep.
2:20 am and awake just doesn’t work for us, does it?
I have fought this problem for the past four years, and yet I have been able to do well in college-now grad school. The irony is that I started that lousy job years before that. I knew nightshift would screw me up, but 2008 being what it was, I took it.
I don’t have any customer service skills-ask anyone. What I tend to have are dead eyes and and a smart mouth.
The white American middle class irritates me because they are offended by everything. You literally can’t joke about anything (which is why they are so unhappy with their lives). What they do find humorous are issues that most people exercise compassion for-like people who have developmental disabilities.
Yeah, we all remember when Trump made fun of that New York Times reporter-and the son of a whore still denies he did that.
What gets me is that Christians continue to be his base.
Can someone explain that me when the Bible tells us that we are to we welcome foreigners, since we were foreigners in Egypt?
Look at the number of dead children from his camps.
Either you voted for Hillary Clinton or you are responsible for this.
I think you should be more concerned about your own soul.
Don’t call me oppressed right now. I’m fucking bored, because I’m in a motel room with nothing to do.
The least someone could do is mail me a book of matches and a gallon of gasoline, but the problem with that plan is that everyone will know who did that, so there’s point in doing something that stupid. Hence, I just have to ride this one out.
I didn’t do well in the class I was in-except for the last week. I knew it was that mood stabilizer the very moment I finished three weeks in one. I also knew that was the problem when I returned to normal. All I knew was that I couldn’t do my research-and it annoyed the hell out of me, because I didn’t feel like myself.
The wrong medication in a damaged brain like mine spells a fabulous disaster, but on the other hand, my psychiatrist told me that over 99 % of babies who acquire meningitis don’t make it to grad school-and I wonder if that is because they aren’t pushed, like I was.
Life in a motel built during the New Deal era is different in that you don’t know whether or not your assignments reach your professor’s computer.
This poor place doesn’t have the adequate power required to do it, but I wouldn’t make the suggestion of tearing it down because who the hell am I to make that suggestion? I think of all of the thousands of people and families who have stayed here before I came along, and I just figure said suggestion to be seven degrees of wrong.
I don’t believe in tearing down old buildings. I believe in learning from the dead, as this is an example of what they had to make things work every day.
The dead can still teach you how to live-but only if you let them.
They left clues for us to follow, and they expected intellect to carry on with the next century; how we have failed them!
We became lazy.
We became prejudiced in terms of learning ability.
And American society is paying the price as the rest of the world catches up.
Hey, man. Don’t look at me. You booted me out-remember?
So, I’m currently writing this from a school computer, and will soon return to the motel where I’m staying on Broadway in Denver, Colorado.
It’s just another Sepulveda Blvd. in the San Fernanado Valley to me, so I’m not too worried about it. I’m just bored as all hell there.
I don’t watch television because it’s stupid. I’m slowly getting to know my neighbors, and they remind me very much of people whom I know in my Van Nuys apartment complex, very genuine and very ‘I got less than you, so don’t worry’. We all get all along, whereby Americans in the middle class compete with each other.
I was officially excommunicated by the Reverend John Larson of Ascension Lutheran Church in Littleton, Colorado yesterday due to the attack against my person a year ago by former Denver police officer, Clyde Wiggins, who ran as fast as he could and blindsided me as I had attempted to explain my traumatic brain injury to a old woman.
I had no intention of hurting her, but Rev. Larson said I was yelling-which I was; in trying to be understood. I never even touched her.
According to the Reverend, Wiggins claimed that he shouted my name three times before he attacked me.
”That’s a lie. There was no warning.”
Interesting number there-especially since Wiggins knew I have one ear completely deafened by meningitis. He knew that about me-and got away with what he did.
Clyde Wiggins is an elder of the church and a retired co, so it came to no surprise that I was out.
They shouldn’t have discussed a woman’s right to choose in the sermon anyway.
Remember that Christ separated Church from State when He asked whose image was on the denarius.