2001-10-04 - 1:41 a.m.

You know, I think I'd forgotten, before today, why I started this diary in the first place. For the times when shit gets piled and piled and piled on me, and I don't have anyone in real life to sit in my room with me and talk. I remembered this today, as I noticed shit getting piled and piled and piled on me, and I had no one to talk to, AND I haven't written in this in a week and a half.

First of all, the reason I haven't written in a week and a half. I have had no time lately when I haven't been doing something important, if I had anything worth talking about. See, on the weekends, I generally do nothing but sit and watch movies and talk on ICQ with Sarah. It's, personally, a very satisfying way to spend my days off, but not really anything worth writing about. But during the week, I've been working really late nights, because we need someone to replace Joan, and until we get someone, her work is transferred to the rest of the night crew, which, after a certain time of the night, includes me and one other person. So we're up rather late working, then I bike home, which wakes me up, so I can't sleep when I get here, but I'm too mentally tired to write. Interesting point on the fact that I haven't been getting enough sleep, the dark circles under my eyes have been moving their way around my eyes, and are now turning pretty shades of purple and green. Like I got hit with a Louisville Slugger about a week ago.

Now you might ask why, if I go to bed so late, I don't just sleep later in the day. Unfortunately, my second, self-imposed job starts at 9 AM. My 9 AM job is that of Dave, Failing Day Trader. Just so you know, though, I'm not failing for the same reasons or as drastically as many of the day traders of the past couple of years who were taken down with the sinking ship of dot-coms and the tech industry. I'm failing because of a simple lack of money to start with. I only had $800 when I started trading. Problem with that is, every time I buy and sell a stock, it costs me $20 in commissions. That's 2.5% of $800. So the stock has to go up that much for me to even break even. It has to go up 5% for me to make a profit of $20. Do you have any idea how hard it is to pick a stock that makes large full number percentage point jumps in a day, every day? It's very hard. Lately I've managed to get the 5% returns, but since that's only $20, I wait, hoping they'll go up more and justify my getting up early every day. Unfortunately, that's usually where they peak, and instead of me making money, I end up losing it. So far I've lost $80 this way.

I've decided what I really need is a rich uncle. One who'd be willing to lend me five- or ten-thousand dollars for about a month. That's all I'd need! A few thousand dollars for a month. At the end of that month, I could pay it back and trade with whatever my profits were. And if I keep up with making 5% every day like I would if it were worth it right now, I'd have already doubled the money by the time I had to pay it back in a month.

Unfortunately, I have no rich uncles. What I *do* have, however, is a company with a rich VP who *really* likes me and has been pulling for me to succeed in this stock market since I started talking to him about it a month ago. The other thing I have is an ability as a salesman that is otherwise unheard of by mortal man. It's not what you're thinking. I'm not going to ask Jeff to lend me the money. Instead, my plan is to convince Jeff to offer it without my ever asking for it. Because I'm that damned good.

Now, money and work matters and such that have built up for the past week and a half out of the way, are the other matters I'm running into. Most prominent, I think, is the simple fact that at least one person, maybe more, I don't know, seems to have misunderstood my last entry and, for that matter, misunderstood me. Now, *I* figured everyone would realize that my arrogance in that entry was *fake.* Considering I have very few reasons to be arrogant about *anything,* I thought everyone would know I was just trying for a more entertaining way to tell people I was finally happily in love with someone again for the first time in far too long. Apparently I was wrong. For a while I was rather angry about how it was taken, but now the only reason it bothers me is that it makes me doubt my ability to convey my thoughts through my writing.

And now we're up to today. I know there was supposed to be more stuff to fit in that last topic, but I forgot it.

Anyway, today was when I got to the point at work that I was about ready to snap. It was destined to be a bad day already, since I was so tired my eyes started burning very early in the day. It just built from there.

One of the major reasons I felt so compelled to do everything possible to make sure I never had to work in retail again was babies. The sound of a crying baby grates on my scalp like someone scrubbing my head with steel wool while little bite-y worm things eat their way through my ear canals. I hate it. And Carol, a woman about 50 years old, pretends to cry like a loud, purposefully annoying baby whenever she has trouble with something. Not like she seriously breaks down, but she just apparently feels the need to broadcast that she's having trouble by pretending like she's an upset, crying child. These are the times when I wish it had a telescoping 2 Iron so I could just extend it and smack her in the back of the head from across the room so, if anything, she'd be crying like an adult instead of like a whiny little child.

A little ways into the day, someone mentioned that Ben is coming on Tuesday. I've mentioned Ben before, but for those of you who don't remember, he was the best part of our team, the fastest, most accurate typist, the most experienced, and the most knowledgeable person there. But then he went off to school at UMaine, and was reduced to a part time remote data entry person who can occasionally answer questions over the phone if no one there could answer them. But on Tuesday, since UMaine doesn't have classes that day, he's coming down to work here instead. I hadn't realized the significance of this yet, other than Tuesday happened to be my birthday, which I mentioned in passing to my boss, Sharon, yesterday.

Also, yesterday, a note came up on the bulletin board saying that, instead of Monday morning, our time sheets had to be in on Friday morning. When I asked why, someone mentioned that Monday is Columbus Day, which we have off, as it's a bank holiday. I hadn't made that connection before yesterday.

The most important connection there, however, was the one that really drove how bad today was home when I finally made it. CNC—my company—has a policy that allows people, if they put in for it soon enough, to get their birthday off, paid. As I basically never make any plans more than—at the most—a couple of weeks ahead of time, and I'm terrible at remembering holidays, or even remembering my own birthday is coming up, I hadn't ever thought of it. Besides, to me, it was just a random Tuesday. In a town where I don't know anyone and can barely ever find anything to do but rent movies and stay inside, having a random Tuesday off where I'll be paid for 8 hours instead of the 10 or so I'll probably end up working isn't really a plus.

But today I realized, my birthday isn't just a random Tuesday. It's the Tuesday after Columbus Day. Getting this birthday off would have meant a four-day weekend. With a four-day weekend, it would be worth it for me to take the time to bus down to New York and see Sarah, meaning I wouldn't have to wait until Thanksgiving to see her next. And had I made that connection two weeks ago, I would have been able to do it. But as it is, I'd only have about two days' notice. I can't do that. They wouldn't let me even if I tried. Now, hypothetically I could go *anyway,* but with the only bus schedule I could get, I'd spend more time either on a bus, waiting for a bus, or being somewhere other than New York because I'm wedded to both the bus schedule and my work schedule, than I would actually get to spend with Sarah. And all because I just don't have a clue about holidays. Meaning instead I'll instead be spending my three-day weekend, you guessed it, watching movies and talking with Sarah on ICQ, and probably on the phone for a bit. And I'll be spending my birthday rushing to get as much work done as possible before ten PM, and probably working until one or one thirty the next morning. Good fun.

I need to convince Jeff to offer to lend me that money. I mean, if I do, and it goes like it probably will, even though I'd be making as much in a day as I normally do in a week, I'd stay with the job… for now. But I like the idea that, if I really wanted to, I could drop the job and it wouldn't hurt me at all. We'll see. I don't think I'll use that in my pitch, though. I just really hope I can pull it off. I'm so sick of being in the red. And I'm so sick of being stuck following other people's schedules.

And most of all, I'm hating not having time to write.