I'm not sure, but I believe anything G. Gordon Liddy or William Devane says about gold.

"What's in your safe?"

09/26/2015

 The mood is upbeat and energetic.

 Just a quick announcement: Evil Wendy is now Excellent Wendy. Although she frequently offers to stab people for me she doesn't have an evil bone in her body. Excellent fits nicely and still completes the acronym.

 I feel alive again. For a while I felt as if I had no value. No worth. I was available when needed but otherwise ignored. Constantly being hurt and still coming back for more. This was madness.

 So I just let it go.

 One upside to this brand of autism and in seeing the world in patterns is that if I take the time and focus I can pick a pattern apart. This takes it out of my day to day perception. Discarded. It leaves a space and sometimes there's a little melancholy but otherwise it's gone. Irrelevant.

 So the mood is now up and I'm feeling pretty good.

 At least emotionally. I woke up to a horrifying set of calf cramps this morning. I've been walking during breaks at work and I really am digging in when I do it. I guess this was the backlash. Needless to say there was a lot of noise. And some unpleasant language. It's really a good thing The Stealth House is fully detached. I think next-door neighbors would be a little upset hearing these things at 4am.

 So I was a little worn out when I finally gave up on sleep.

 I read for a few hours, got my thoughts in order, then tackled the back yard. It hadn't been cut in about six weeks so things were a little shaggy back there. It was difficult, it always is, and there was a need for pain killers afterward.

 I once had a lawn service. Or, at least, some guy with a pick-up truck, a trailer, and two mowers. That relationship lasted right up until he first informed me that he was now a 'professional' lawn service. Then told me the price was going up. Then told me leaf removal was $200.

 Now my back yard is large, but it can be cut with a push-mower in about 20 minutes. It's small.

 So I gave him some advice about what he could use his rake for, apart from leaf removal, then politely asked him to attempt to breed with himself. He went away angry and didn't come back. Mission accomplished. Then I just let the yard go. I hardly ever use it so it wasn't highly placed in my mind.
 So today was getting caught up and I really needed a rest afterward.

 I've been enjoying using the charcoal grill but it really is a lot of work when you're just cooking for one so I begged Nice Wendy to come over so I could get my gas grill bottle filled. She came by, we went shopping at Wise, got some grill gas, and came home.

 My energy has been very good and I'm liking this.

 I have a full rack—cut in half-- of pork ribs currently in a marinade. Two bags so I have a set now and one for another day. My last can of guava nectar expired in March so I thought it might be a good idea to use something else. Rooting around in the fridge produced a small amount of store-brand fruit punch that was still good and there was enough to use as a base. This is an experiment. I'll let you know how it turns out. I was kinda wishing I had a beer, that would have been a much better base.

 The ribs are in a fruit-punch base, with a pineapple-teriyaki marinade. I added a smokehouse maple seasoning, garlic, and two tablespoons of brown sugar so the marinade will glaze.

 Really looking forward to dinner.

 I took a bunch of snaps of The Stealth House today and I plan to post them as a photo tour of my favorite rental place ever.

 It's open window weather here so I just want to throw in a quick “Neeeener Neeeener Neeener” to my friends in The South. Air conditioning season is over.

 I got a lot done today and I'm not feeling beat-down or worn out or alone.

 It's good to feel alive again.

 Thanks for listening.

This one hasn't been proofed.  Really didn't want to go over it again.

09/29/2015

 The mood is highly agitated and irritable.

 I've been very easily distracted today. Lights are too bright, sounds are too loud, I'm having difficulty understanding things. Someone will talk to me while I'm doing something else and I completely lose track of what I'm doing.

 This is upsetting.

 It's difficult to be in an office with two-hundred other people if every time someone says something, I lose track of what I'm doing. Frustration.

 My pod-partner asked about my relationship with my older brother near the end of the day. I told her we still haven't spoken. She's hopeful that things will be patched up since he's my only family in this area. I guess she worries about me sometimes.

 It's nice to have someone who cares.

 But the conversation dredged up a lot of memories and feelings I'd rather not deal with. When I think back over the last four years I realize that, although he took me in when I moved back here, it was always me that made the effort to be a family.

 I don''t know. Maybe I really don't understand how a real family works. It's just that I always had to do the reaching out. I would call and ask if he'd like to have a barbecue on the weekend. I would show up, he would be playing maudlin 1990's music too loud to talk over and act as if I'm intruding on his time and he couldn't wait for it to be over.

 This happened every single time.

 In January of 2013, I was hospitalized for four days at the VA in Lebanon. I only made one call from the ward. It was to Chris. It was Tuesday. I told him I'd gone straight from the clinic to the hospital, could he please go by my house, take in the mail, and turn off the gas space heaters.

 I was discharged on a Friday. He didn't listen to my message until the following Monday.

 I was fortunate that a friend from work took to time to come and stay with me. That got me through the weekend. My brother finally came by the following Saturday. We talked for a while and he told me I could come to his house any time, even if we just sit there an stare at each other. So, during the same summer, I called and said I really need some company.

 He said no. Not this weekend.

 He wasn't actually doing anything, he just didn't want to be bothered. He told me I could reach out to him any time then slapped me down when I did.

 Now, I'm the last person in the world you'd want to ask about relationships, they've always been a mystery and are always difficult to understand. But I take promises very seriously. You don't tell some one “I'm here for you” then turn your back on them.

 That's just wrong.

 So, all of these emotions are simmering in my head. They've taken the prominent spot at the front and are demanding attention. I'm writing this now to try to dial things down.

 It seems to be helping.

 At least a little.

 Thanks for listening. 

10/12/2015

 The mood is up. Good.

 On my second day of ninth grade all of the freshmen were called to an assembly. The superintendent of the York City School District came to give an address to all of the new high-school students. He began is speech by saying “the time for play is over!” He emphasized each word by thumping the podium with is fist.

 The time for play is over. Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.

 At the time, my emotional development was around the fifth or sixth grade level. His words were meaningless. Looking back, I now understand what he was trying to say. It's time to take education seriously. It's time to work to better myself. Education is the only thing that will improve my lot in life.

 But the messagehe gave was wrong.

 The time for play is over? What kind of life would one have without any kind of play? I respectfully disagree, sir. Put an end to play and you put an end to any kind of enjoyment in life. Yes, education is very serious. It's important to work hard. But you have to have some sort of outlet. Some way to relax. Some way to enjoy the life you've worked for.

 It's the difference between living and existing.

 I had read a news article some years later. The superintendent had taken a job somewhere in the mid-west. It was a big step up, apparently. Then he committed suicide. So much for taking everything seriously.

 It's a fine day today. Cool and comfortable. Open-window weather. I intend to enjoy it. I work for the government so there's no work today.

 The job I had before I became a caseworker was a quality insurance inspector with a company that did pre-employment screening. Background checks. My job was to make sure the reports we were issuing were in compliance with The Fair Credit Reporting Act (FCRA).

 The Act was passed in 1993 and had little to do with credit. On my first day at my new job I was given a copy of this law and read it cover to cover. The law put restrictions on what credit agencies and people like the company I worked for could report.

 There were time-limits on reporting any criminal charges or convictions in someone's past along with how far back we could report someone's credit history. Yes, some employers make hiring decisions based on your credit history.

 For a number of the companies that paid for our reports, it was also my responsibility to make the hiring decision for them. I chose who would get a job and who would be turned away. All of this was based on the criteria they hired me to enforce. The Law.

 I only lasted two years doing this because the company I worked for broke the law on a daily basis. I would review a report for compliance they they would call the company and verbally report things it wasn't legal for them to report. The calls were usually made by my supervisor because I flatly refused to do it myself.

 An aspect of my autistic nature is an inability to deal with conflicting instructions.

 I was given a copy of the aforementioned law on my first day. I was told my job was to insure compliance with that law. Then I was told to violate that law. I flatly refused. The only reason I was kept on was that my production rate was almost triple that of my two colleagues and every single report was completely accurate.

 There was an easily identifiable pattern to the process. My employer was at least smart enough to understand that they would have had to hire two people to fill the gap if I left. My employer was also the kind of employer that keeps good, hard-working people on by convincing them the wouldn't be able to get anything better than what they have now.

 I'm one of those kind of people that won't move until I'm pushed.

 The push came in the form of the company being sued. One of the clerks that did court research sent me a report in which she, the clerk, had completed the hiring decision. The application was to be turned down. This was based on a felony charge, not a conviction, from nine years in the past.

 So I overturned the decision.

 When the clerk found out, she complained to her supervisor who changed the decision back to no-hire and sent out the report. I complained to my supervisor who did nothing. Several weeks later I found out that the applicant had sued the company for violating the FCRA. I never found out the result of the lawsuit. My assumption is the company paid off the applicant.

 Weeks later the entire staff were called to a meeting. At the meeting our vice-president told us that from now on, any reports containing felony information were to be reviewed by a supervisor before being sent to the client.

 I raised my hand.

 The man kept speaking and completely ignored me. When he stopped to take a breath I said “Would this be any supervisor in particular? As you know, it was a supervisor that made the mistake.” This was followed by a period of dead silence. Then the man continued his speech as if I hadn't spoken at all.

 That was the last straw.

 I took the exam to be a caseworker and was hired. I did the right thing by giving my employer two weeks notice that I was leaving. I was called in by the vice-president for my exit interview. At that time I was told is was company policy to immediately dismiss anyone who gives notice.

 Now, this employer was plagued by people secretly interviewing for other jobs then quitting without giving notice. The VP always took this personally. So, needless to say, I was confused. I pointed out that maybe the policy of firing people who give notice was the reason people keep walking out.

 That went right over his head.

 I wasn't dismissed. Again, the high production rate came into play. I made certain to point out to our glorious VP that he'd need at least two people to fill in the gap. I also pointed out that stomping on his employees at every opportunity will cause him to bleed out good people that would otherwise remain there.

 Again, no response.

 So I went to work for the State of PA. People would ask me why I was smiling all the time. I never answered that question but one of the reasons was that, in my first two weeks of employment, I got a day off—with pay. It was for this holiday today. Columbus day.

 My previous employer only had six holidays per year. And, if we wanted to get paid for that day, we had to use leave. Yes. The office was closed but if we wanted to get paid we had to use leave. I've never heard of anything like that.

 So yes. I was smiling all the time. Because my former employer was, simply put, scum.

 And when you're at the bottom of the employment game, any move is a step up.

 I got an e-mail from one of my former colleagues about three weeks later. One of the other two quality insurance people was tasked with manning the company's booth at a job fair in Westminster Maryland. While she was there she talked to the person in the county government booth. The following day, she came in, cleared out her desk, and left to take a job with the county—without giving notice.

 Why was I smiling?

 Because karma is a bitch.

 Thanks for listening.

I was wondering if anyone knew who I was talking about.