  I have this habit, when I have nothing new to read. I re-read my old books. Problem is, since I zip through books like a greased ferret, I end up re-reading my stash a lot. I wonder if this mode of behaviour is counter productive. It's occured to me that re-reading could cause one to get locked down in thought patterns. Anyways. Reason why I'm thinking about it is because I just finished re-reading an ancedote about Darwin, and the process of him becoming an atheist.
To sum up; he was doing his research thing, studying insects at this point. He came across a particularily nasty type of wasp. This wasp stung spiders. When it stung the spider, it layed eggs in the spider's body. Then, it left the spider alone, and more often than not the spider would heal up nicely. Then, the eggs turned into larvae, and burst out of the spider, killing it in what one can only conjecture would be a most painful and horrific death. Darwin evidently gave up on God after that. Can definitely see Darwin's point. I think, in times past, I would cite the spider and the wasp as fair proofs against the fact that either God does not give a shit, or there isn't a God to begin with. Now, I look at it another way. The spider and the wasp give fairly irrefuteable proofs that Things Are Not How They Ought To Be.
The fact that I feel outraged and sickened by this tiny example of life's inequities suggest to me that I have an Idea of how things Ought to Be. Now, how did this idea get there, considering this is, in fact, how nature goes? I mean, it's not like I have any practical experience with Ideals, in fact, going entirely on what can be evidenced in my experience, life sucks, with moments of okayness, and more moments of ew and ickyness. And yet, this status quo isn't something I'm prepared to accept. I have this sense that really, there ought to be a better way for wasp eggs to gestate, and people should like each other, and atrocites shouldn't happen. The fact that I have these thoughts, if you're following along, and I'm being reasonably clear, is I rather think God put that idea in my head in the first place.
I am sick to deaaaaaaaaaaaaath of working for the public. When you're working in a medium-to-low end service job, people really tend to talk to you like you have the neural capacity of a head of lettuce. My view is quite fight club; service people are the backbone of society, and without them, you'd have nothing to eat, you'd be festering in your own trash, and nothing you owned would ever have a hope in hell of being fixed. Blue collar workers are the oil that keep things running smoothly. Do not fuck with them. Yeah, I know, I'm full of ranty, but holy shit, if another person asks me how long the slices have been out, I think I may have to jump across the counter and mortal kombat their asses. Lately I've been snide, asking if they ordered pizza often. Typically, folks say yeah. Then I mention how they eat that pizza for breakfast lunch or dinner the next day, so who gives a snail's keister if the slices have been out for 20 or 30 minutes? They're not dry, they certainly are moldering. Leave me alone. I would also like to mention that people who give me a hard time for shit I've nothing to do with have got to relax, sit down, and shut the fuck up. We're all working on what feels like to be on the mouth of hell, we're not making any serious coin, we're also crazy ass busy, do NOT call me and have my list off the specials to you, and do not rag on me because you ordered something that's three bucks, and we won't deliver it to you.
But, despite the ranting, I'm in a job that's satisfying, with enough hard work that you feel nice and tired, you aren't bored, plus there's not a lot of responsibility. There's fuckups, annoyances, and the bastard public, but it's fairly pleasant to be talking it up with smart people, drinking a few beers and making pizza.
If I could just get out of the whole public bit, I'd be set. Royal bank has called. Now it's a duder named Michael, and he left a message saying not to worry about ANYTHING, it's all going to be taken care of, no creditors, and that I should give him a call. I was all suffused with the milk of human kindness, but then, Admiral Ackbar whispered in my ear "It's a trap! " I should probably call the guy. "Yeah, hi. I work nights, so I'm not inclined to spend precious sleep time with Royal Bank. I've got no money to fix my credit rating, and I'm overwhelmingly tired of Royal Bank's foot being stuck up my arse. I'd love for all this to be taken care of, but Mike, buddy, let's be serious. I can't make rent, I'm not in any position to make student loan payments.
" Heh. What I should do is record the message, so that way I have proof they said no creditors. It's funny, I had the sick idea that Michael is really that fucker Marcus, who put on a fake accent so I'll talk to him. Mama and Kurt's paranoia are rubbing off on me. 
