Tag: UPS

If you don’t care, why should I?

Random Thoughts

The other day, I went to tour a colocation facility.  For the uninitiated, it’s a place to put your business servers so you don’t have to house them yourself (and maintain UPS and generators and other things like that).  Outside this facility were some protesters.  They had signs about unfair wages and other stuff.  I found out from the employees that the reason for the protest was thus: this company decided to expand, took bids for sheet rock work, and accepted the lower bid, a company with a higher bid didn’t like it and claims the only reason the other bid was lower was because “that company doesn’t pay a fair wage”, but it turns out the upset company is a union shop and likely pays more due to contract not because it’s “fair”.

That’s fine.  I understand, company upset, protests.  But the kicker is, the protesters are not employees of that company or members of that union.  The protesters are homeless people that the company is paying (well below the minimum wage) to stand there 24/7.  I know, I asked, and protesters, when approached, often ask if you know about the protest and offer to give you details, they don’t usually ask for cigarettes and money – homeless people do.

Look.  If you don’t care enough to do your own protesting, then I can’t be bothered to care about your protest.  And the ironic part of paying people an unfair wage to protest unfair wages is not really helping you.

Besides, have you been inside?  Their setup is freakin’ sweet!

Movie Round-Up: June 25th, 2010

Reviews

Grown Ups:

Yeah, it looks stupid.  But it also looks funny.  I’m sure there will be some gross out humor, but it’ll probably have a nice heartwarming family message at the end too.  It isn’t worth $10 to see, but might be worth a matinée or early bird priced ticket.  It’s definitely going into the Netflix queue.

Knight & Day:

In real life, Tom Cruise is fruity, nutty and every other food descriptor used to also describe crazy behavior.  He’s just odd.  But dammit if I don’t end up loving every single movie that he does.  I do find it funny that the plot to this seems very similar to Killers with Kutcher and Heigl, and I’d much rather watch Heigl than Diaz, but even so I find myself drawn to this film.  Plus, it’s big actiony explody guns and cars and fighting which always looks better on the big screen.  I might just have to make my way to the local multiplex for this one.

A Year and a Day

Random Thoughts

Its hard to believe that its been a year.

Sometimes its like I blinked, like the year skipped by so quickly as not to notice. Other times, its like every day itself was a year on its own, moving in slow motion.

I can still close my eyes sometimes and she’s there. Helping me clean up after another bloody nose. Looking disappointed when I failed English. My graduation day, both times. The day she went into the hospital for a routine surgery.

Some days, its feels like its been forever. I can’t picture what she looked like. I can’t remember how she smelled.

For a year my life has been that… crystal clear nonsense. Ups and downs. Highs and lows. Tops and bottoms. Peaks and valleys… with little in between. I wonder if this is what manic depressives, or schitzophrenics, feel like. Out of control, with absolute certainty, on a frantic scattered path, to a destination I’ve been to a thousand times never. I feel like my insides are on the outside, so I pick them up and put them back in, only realized that I’m now turned inside out. Its like my soul is fractured, broken, and the pieces don’t fit back together anymore.

I want it to get easier… or maybe harder, so hard that I actually snap, because maybe if I’m more broken medical science can fix me.

They say, time heals all wounds. They also say, it takes as long as it takes. What if it takes forever?

On Saturday, a year and a day from the moment she slipped loose this mortal coil, I knelt at the place we laid her body to rest.

My mother and I used to talk. We’d sit in the kitchen and she’d tell me about her day, her week, her garden, something she was wanting to cook, or sew, or some place she wanted to go. And I would tell her of my day, my week, my job, my fiancee, car troubles, movies I’d seen, and everything else. She’d tell me about any problems she was having, and I would listen and offer words where I could. And I would tell her my problems, and she would listen and offer words where she could.

When she left us, I feared I would never hear her again. But there at her resting place I heard her. I told her my worries, and I heard her replies. And while I know its just emotion mixed with memory of all the things she used to say, somehow I couldn’t hear them until just then, until I was there.

I hear you.

Linda Faye Lockley Pace - Rest In Peace