(no subject)
These days I usually write when I'm having difficulty going to sleep, which is surprisingly not that often. The one or two nights a week of insomnia I had in a previous life will not be missed.
After two months without being contacted by anyone, my job search finally has a couple of promising leads.
First, I have a phone interview with SAS corporation on Wednesday for 12 weeks paid training. The internship starts in two weeks, and if I do well enough I could be selected to represent SAS as a travelling consultant.
The other lead is a job with the Census Bureau, who is apparently hiring in all 10 of their offices across the country. It looks like I'm well qualified, so if I can simply get through all of the application red tape and into the interview process I may have a decent chance there.
To be honest, married life isn't much different from life during our previous year. We wear our rings whenever we leave the house. Still getting used to hearing Patience's married name. That's about it.
Men always joke about marriage coming with a ball and chain. Now that I'm a married man, I don't understand it anymore. Children come with a ball and chain. A mortgage comes with a ball and chain. Marriage, not so much. If you do it right, it's more like being a team. Although, children and a mortgage do usually come with marriage...
Our honeymoon was wonderful. We went to some great places, saw some great sights, ate wonderful food, and stayed in nice hotels. There are lots of things I could share, but I'll stick with just this one:
We went out to Bourbon Street in New Orleans one night on our honeymoon. It was rife with all of the drinking, loud music, and yelling, as usual. Almost six years ago, I went there with some friends during my first semester of college and had the craziest experience of my life to that date. I got hammered, staggered all over the place, repeatedly yelled "I'm on Bourbon Street, bitches!" at the top of my lungs, screamed when the girls on the balconies showed their breasts, and stumbled around to pick up Mardi Gras beads. Hell, I don't even remember how I got back to the hotel that night. This time, Patience and I walked from one end of the corridor of sin to the other, turned around, stopped at one of the few quiet bars on the way back, had a couple drinks and chatted with the bartender, and headed home before 11. It made me feel... older and wiser.
This chick I dated for a month or so in college messaged me out of the blue yesterday. I hadn't spoken to her in almost 3 years. I didn't respond, but it's been bugging me ever since. Why do people do that?
After two months without being contacted by anyone, my job search finally has a couple of promising leads.
First, I have a phone interview with SAS corporation on Wednesday for 12 weeks paid training. The internship starts in two weeks, and if I do well enough I could be selected to represent SAS as a travelling consultant.
The other lead is a job with the Census Bureau, who is apparently hiring in all 10 of their offices across the country. It looks like I'm well qualified, so if I can simply get through all of the application red tape and into the interview process I may have a decent chance there.
To be honest, married life isn't much different from life during our previous year. We wear our rings whenever we leave the house. Still getting used to hearing Patience's married name. That's about it.
Men always joke about marriage coming with a ball and chain. Now that I'm a married man, I don't understand it anymore. Children come with a ball and chain. A mortgage comes with a ball and chain. Marriage, not so much. If you do it right, it's more like being a team. Although, children and a mortgage do usually come with marriage...
Our honeymoon was wonderful. We went to some great places, saw some great sights, ate wonderful food, and stayed in nice hotels. There are lots of things I could share, but I'll stick with just this one:
We went out to Bourbon Street in New Orleans one night on our honeymoon. It was rife with all of the drinking, loud music, and yelling, as usual. Almost six years ago, I went there with some friends during my first semester of college and had the craziest experience of my life to that date. I got hammered, staggered all over the place, repeatedly yelled "I'm on Bourbon Street, bitches!" at the top of my lungs, screamed when the girls on the balconies showed their breasts, and stumbled around to pick up Mardi Gras beads. Hell, I don't even remember how I got back to the hotel that night. This time, Patience and I walked from one end of the corridor of sin to the other, turned around, stopped at one of the few quiet bars on the way back, had a couple drinks and chatted with the bartender, and headed home before 11. It made me feel... older and wiser.
This chick I dated for a month or so in college messaged me out of the blue yesterday. I hadn't spoken to her in almost 3 years. I didn't respond, but it's been bugging me ever since. Why do people do that?