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journalWelcome to my online journal. I'm Alex Mead. For many years people called me AMPro --so much so that it seemed like my name. More recently, a lot of people on the internet have come to know me as green.earth.al and in show biz...My Rap Name is Alex. Whatever name I'm known by, I still seem to have the same opinions and convictions, I still like to write and make public my introspection and try to say something that will provoke some thoughts and help people see the world in new and helpful ways.
Life in a Dark Cave called Truck...
this journal entry posted on October.22.2005

Things... starting to look up.

Got my job back. Acted with Many Fried. My book was all but written with 2 months to go until Publication date. My friend Mikey had come back to Buffalo for a minute to visit us all. Oh how I had missed Mikey. And then he was there. And I wasted the time he was there just kinda feeling down because he was gonna be gone again any moment.

Well, except that the silver lining was seeing Leslie again. Mikey got some of his BBSing buddies together at my house. I can remember Mikey asked if he could have a party at my house, and I was all like "sure!". And he was like "Can I have Pizza and Balloons?" and I was all like "Sure!" You know. Like 'Sure! You can bring anything you want.' Then when he got there I realized that *I* was supposed to supply the balloons and pizza. D'oh! Sometimes when you're that poor, you just assume that everyone knows how poor you are. So, I wasn't gonna hunt down any balloons, but I did have a little wad of cash because I was withdrawing every cent I had in any account anywhere to pay as much of the rent as possible. I took a little bit of that money and ordered Mikey's pizza with it.

As I went to get the Pizza (none of which I could eat because it would be covered in meat juice, and I'm not into Pizza cheese anyway) I stopped up front to hand over every penny I had in this world to my landlady who proceeded to bitch me out because it wasn't the whole rent and the month was more than half over already. I had done the very best I could, she was holding all the money I'd had in the world, so I just let her do her thing and yell if it made her feel better.

So then, back to Leslie. She was there at Mikey's party, and we just had a lot of fun talking to each other, and she was just really attractive in a whole lot of ways. And after Mikey left he was telling each of us that we liked each other, so we cut out the middle man, started IMing each other and started making plans to get together.

So, yeah... things... starting to look up.

Even my whole delinquent rent thing was only going to take a week or two to clear up now that I was working again. So I set about to concentrate on work. To become as good at my job as I was able to be. To try to become invaluable to my boss so that I would never be the first one laid off again(I was last hired, first fired).

So, I started this journal entry intending to tell some work stories and I've written a million words and I still haven't gotten to them yet.

Work, is throwing tires. There will be anywhere from 600 to 100 tires, and I put them on a truck. If they are heavy tires there'l be closer to 600. If they are light tires they'll be closer to 1,000. When I first showed up, I really HATED heavy tires. But I was putting on muscle every day, my muscle density was going way up and all tires were becomming light to me. I was learning to throw trucks faster and faster, and throwing more trucks with each passing weeks and my paycheck was getting bigger and it just still continues to climb. This is so much better than security was. I could be as good at security as I wanted to be and I'd still get yelled at by my friend/boss and nasty memos that tell us how much we all suck. Day after day of that. With throwing tires, I get better at my job, I get paid more. Then I get to keep getting more physically fit every week on top of that. Pretty happy with the new job.

Okay, so, for a week I had been so, so eager to see Leslie again. To spend any time with her. I got invited to her father's birthday. It was at a restaurant. I can't eat resteraunt food. I get sick. But enough time passes and I try to tell myself "Well, maybe I won't get sick this time." I just really, really wanted to spend some time with Leslie. That was more important than not getting sick.

Okay, so the menu. Again I find myself playing this game. Try to pick the one thing on the menu that won't make you sick. Assuming there is such a thing. I figured "Oh wow, Pasta and Spinich! That's totally harmless. NO WAY that's gonna make me sick." So the Pasta and Spinich comes and it's like Pasta drowned in cooking oul with a heavy cooking oil sauce with a little spinich on it and a side of cooking oil. Okay, at this point, I know better than to eat this. But my metabolism has goner way up with all the exertion and so I'm constantly hungry and at this point I was starving so I had to eat a little. And I didn't want to be rude. I didn't want to waste food. My mother had always told me not to waste food. And I was getting to hang out with Leslies' family. Everything was wonderful.

When I woke up at 3am that morning just as sick as a person can be, things were not wonderful. My mouth felt like it was coated in grease. I had exploding bowel loonacy going on. And, best of all, I had 3 hours before I had to go to work. I got no more sleep. I was just in pain in the bathroom. A few hours later I felt well enough to go to work I thought. I got to work and I was sick all over again. I actually used a public rest room in the warehouse at work. Just take my word for it that I have to be sicker than you can ever imagine to use the rest room there. It took me an hour and a half to throw my first 20 tires (because every time I left the bathroom I had to run back).

There had been days were I wasn't having fun at work. The day where I was all dizzy and crashing the palette jack into everything comes to mind. But that day was the new record for the worst.

Okay. So then later that week, I set a NEW record.

My boss had been promising me for a while that he would let me throw motorcycle tires. "That's where the real money is!" he would tell me. I wanted to make the real money so I kept waiting for him to let me do some motorcycle tires.

These days I will only grab a motorcycle tire load if it's the only thing available. It's not where the money is for me. You make more per truck. But a truck just takes me way longer. There are SO many more tires on a truck. There can be up to 2800 tires to put on a truck. I'm slow at it. But at least I've gotten a bit faster than that first day.

My boss had been saying, I'm gonna get you on a motorcycle truck soon. Tommorow. Next week. On Monday. The next time I'm in on a Saturday we'll do one together. Any day now. Tuesday for sure. So, one day he comes up and says I have a motorcycle load for you to do RIGHT NOW.

Finally! I thought. This was to become the new worst day at work. Motocycle tires HURT. They are hard rubber and after a couple hours your wrists are killing you. AND, they fall over a LOT easier! I had finally managed to get good enough that my passenger tires never fell over any more. Not so with motorcycle tires.

It was a cold day. Very cold. It was October and it was snowing already. It was snowing inside my trailer in fact. I had a loading bay with the broken cover so that it could snow right on my head. I felt like I was maybe getting the hang of the motorcycle tires a little. My wrists hurt and it had taken 4 and a half hours to do half a truck, but I was kinda getting the hang of it.

That's when I had four rows fall over on me. FOUR ROWS to take off and do all over again. MAN THAT SUCKED. But the BEST part of it was when I climbed up on the huge heaping mess of motorcycle tires to start clearing it away and my glasses fell off and fell down among the tires. I was like "YOU.. HAVE.. GOT... TO... BE... KIDDING... ME!!!"

Fortunately, I managed to reach down into the pile of tires and fished out my glasses in only a minute or two. I got the rows dug out in another ten minutes. Put the broken rows back together in about fifteen minutes. And the whole truck ended up taking more than eight hours. There were more frustrations with that truck, but I think you get the idea.

That week at work sucked. At least my paycheck was big enough to pay the rest of my rent.



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