A night at the train station

Just looking at my Evernote files, I found a short description of my evening while waiting at the train station some time ago. I don’t recall much about it, but I do remember that I wasn’t going to remember much after I got to Pete’s! Too much of “mother’s milk.”

I know I meant to write more about the feelings I had there and then, but I just don’t remember being in that moment. Thanks for trying, Past Dan. It was a good effort.

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Where three roads meet

There’s a place near home where three roads meet.

I cross it every day, most often in the morning, on my way to absolutely anywhere. Need some paper towels? Through the intersection. Pancakes? Intersection. Off to the Loop on the Blue Line? I got an intersection for you to go through from my place.

A whole lot of people travel through this place where the three roads meet. If it weren’t for the many, many traffic lights, there’d never be a moment for this chicken to cross first one street, then another just to get to the other side.

This morning, if I had had the guts and gumption to seize the moment, I may have been able to cross without one of those lights.

At 6:30 in the a.m., your Average Joe isn’t quite awake yet. Joe maybe scarfed down a bagel on the way out the door, but he hasn’t had his second cup of java yet. He’s foggy in the head and slow at foot and hand, but Joe, Jane, and even Steve still drive fast and faster on their way to wherever and over there.

That’s why it was weird at that intersection when the lights turned green and nothing happened. Read more of this post

I want you, A.V. Club. I want you bad.

Alternately, you can call them The Audio-Visual Club.

Like Tina Fey says, I want to go to there.

Dear The A.V. Club,

When I saw your string of tweets on none other than Twitter, I knew that I’d find some gems. There’re always gems. It’s your job.
Ne’r did I expect this little spot of sunshine, though.

Hey, wanna work for @The_AV_Club? We have an entry-level copyeditor opening in Chicago. [link]

What is that, you say? Jobs for the masses? Count me in. I was in it like 90s me in those spectacular parachute pants. Hammer, my parents blame you for that phase. Please, contact them about Photoshopping some family pictures.

You see, I lost my job three weeks back, a job I had taken just to pay the bills after moving with my wife from Wyoming to Chicago. Six months in, I’m on my rear, out the door, and up the creek (not with my wife, just the crappy job).
This is, of course, an opportunity to get back to what I love, back on the career path I had started. Here I write in amongst the boxes of our new apartment hoping that you’ll look at the link included in my cover letter.
Maybe you’ll even remember my name. It’s not a difficult name to remember: Daniel Craig. Just so you know, that was my name way before the James Bond actor was ever famous.

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Technology fails me; The phone vanishes

Even in the process of writing this entry, technology fails me. Read more of this post