Please bless that i won't get kidnapped by aliens

I was reading this post on Angie's blog a few minutes ago, concerning her many ridiculous habits, rituals, and quirks revolving around her irrational fears. I think that I, for the most part have gotten over the vast majority of my child hood fears. Well, except for bugs of course. But for goodness sakes, those are tangible, real, creepy-crawling-buzzing-biting-stingingly real. Her fears made me laugh, due to the fact that I had many similar fears while growing up. And also a plethora of distinct, though probably similarly irrational ones.

Of course the movie It totally ruined my life from the age of 9 until at least 17. When I first saw it, I had intense nightmares for at least 3 months. I had to make sure that I went to bed and was asleep before my parents were asleep, or terror would overtake me. That however, wasn't even my worst fear.

Effing aliens.

When I was young, I saw some supposedly true story about alien abductions and impregnations which utterly scared the hell out of me. I was absolutely terrified of getting kidnapped, and then probed. I would lay in bed each night, going through this absurd ritual in my head. I would tell myself, "Okay. There are 7 continents in the world. If the aliens choose my continent, then they have a bunch of countries to choose from. If they happen to choose the USA, they have 50 states. If they happen to choose Utah, there are like 29 counties. If they choose mine, there are a whole bunch of cities. If they happen to choose Orem (eventually Nephi ((even more pathetic, as I was at least 14 once living there)) then there are 10's of 1000's of families to choose from (((quite a bit fewer in Nephi, which made things a bit more scary.))) If the effing aliens so happen to choose my family, there are 6 people to choose from. Soooooooo, the odds aren't really that likely that I will get abducted." Every damn night, I went through this ritual. Followed by, "Dear heavenly father, thanks for this day...Please bless that I won't get kidnapped or murdered, or kidnapped by aliens tonight." Seriously.

Kidnapping was another one of my great fears. Whenever I had to walk anywhere alone at night, I was always constantly terrified. When walking across the cul-de-sac at night from Grey's house, I would sprint the whole way, imagining the villains in the bushes were thinking, "Damn! We must have spooked him!" I would dash like the wind, because I knew they were right on my tail.

So the saddest part of all, was when I was 17. I remember one night saying my evening prayers and saying, "And please bless that I wont get kidnapped or murdered, or kidnapped my aliens." And I recall pausing, and thinking "Wtf did I just say right then? Did I, a 17 year old man, really just pray not to get kidnapped or murdered, or abducted by aliens?" And it's funny, because even now, almost 10 years later I still find myself almost slipping that in. It still pops into my mind whilst praying.

Now, my imagination really only gets really out of control when I am camping alone. That is still scary as hell. And aliens. Give me a break. I will punch any alien in its bulbous head, and cave in his skinny little chest with a well placed drop kick. Unless of course they have lasers. Seriously, who can even stand up against a laser?

The metal pit

I'm pretty astounded by the death metal occurring right this moment next door. I mean, apparently during the last 4 days or so, a band has formed. And by band I mean a drum set and a guitar. Playing awful, awful metal. Rather than annoying, it is actually quite entertaining. Because I get to sit here, in the comfort of my bed in a house well on its way to freezing, and attempt to puzzle out how on earth a person could think that creating the musical atrocities to which I'm being subjected would ever be enjoyed by another human being. So really I appreciate it.

I suppose the metal is preparing me mentally for the adventure upon which I shall shortly embark this evening; throwing burning shit down a hole. So metal.

So there exists this seemingly bottomless pit out near Eureka. Which I suppose, is somewhat metaphorical to Eureka itself; a horrible, bottomless pit of a place to live. And creepy. A very creepy town. Sort of a ghost town that still has people living in it. Which is a complete oxymoron, I know.

Anyhow, this pit is covered by a huge grate. In the middle, there is about a 2X2 ft opening, through which the burning objects are dropped. And then they fall into the belly of eternity, exploding and bouncing off the walls, flaming until they disappear into the abyss. Pretty much the most awesome thing ever.

If ever I murder a human, that is definitely where I shall dispose of the body. There have got to be bodies down there. Nobody would ever find them. Because it's a bottomless pit. Doi.

Consequences of trespassing

So the other day I was in my kitchen preparing a hearty hummus and cheese sandwich. Being relatively poor, I have found myself eating a great deal of hummus sandwiches, made from the free bag o' buns with which my dear friend Connie provides me on a weekly basis from J-Dogs.

Whilst creating said sandwich, I see this guy ride his bike into my back yard. Now, the parking lot behind my house and our back yard are obviously our property. Meaning, there is no way to confuse it as any sort of public venue. Everything is fenced off. This would be akin to riding your bike into some random person's back yard in some random residential neighborhood.

So he pedals to the back by our shed, and starts looking around. I thought, "Hmm. Wtf." First, he looked behind the shed. Then, he walked over to one of our trees that is growing next to the fence, sort of tried to hide his bike, and then locked it to the fence. Then he just strolled out of our back yard like he owned the place.

Now, I am pretty sure he was doing nothing malicious. Obviously. However, it bothered me that he would just cruise into our back yard uninvited, and lock his bike there. Am I unreasonable for thinking that is strange? I thought about going out there and leaving a sign taped to his bike, offering him airless tires if he ever did it again.

But then I remembered that he rode through 10 feet of puncture weeds and stickers to park his bike where he did, and that those had certainly already accomplished the task.

Scraping

I find myself in a uniquely shitty position. Well, unique thus far to my life; not so unique to a lot of Americans. This position to which I refer, is that of being uninsured, and just financially scraping by and wondering for how much longer I can make ends meet.

I guess my situation is a bit different than that of many impoverished Americans. I don't have kids to worry about, and I could probably find another job. The problem is I don't know if I'll be able to find something that I don't hate. Because I actually somewhat enjoy serving. I enjoy the job itself, and the people with whom I work. Not so much the pittance tips, or the demanding, awful people I sometimes have to serve. But overall, I like it. And I like the relative schedule flexibility that comes along with it. I guess I haven't had a 9-5 job in so long, the thought of one is absolutely dreadful.

But this just isn't working out.

I hate to leave Carrabbas after all of the time I have put into it, but I don't know what else to do. Unless things miraculously pick up in the next couple of weeks, I'm going to have to abandon ship. I think the restaurant business is going to take a rather hefty hit, even more so that it has been over the last year. When money is tight, eating out is one of the first things people quit doing.

I'm so confused about what to do with my life currently.

I don't know what I want to be anymore.

I know what I love to do, but I don't know how I could possibly make any money doing it.

Writing is like acting. Ridiculous, and impractical.

I believe my magazine partner had a reality check, and consequentially a rather devastating mental crash. He lost all faith that we can make this happen financially.

I can't do it without him. Thus, I can't do it.

In summation, I don't know what to do with my life anymore.