Bart "J.B." Hopkins's Blog, page 4
September 16, 2022
Tired
I have been working most of my life. I started “real” jobs at age 11, paying taxes and social security – the whole bit – but even before that I was hustling for this and that. During my K-5 years, I was always doing something for change. In our apartments you had to walk your …
tired
I have been working most of my life. I started “real” jobs at age 11, paying taxes and social security – the whole bit – but even before that I was hustling for this and that.
During my K-5 years, I was always doing something for change. In our apartments you had to walk your trash a goodly distance over to communal dumpsters. I set up a deal with a bunch of tenants to carry their bags for them – a quarter a bag – starting around 2nd grade.
Around that same time, I would buy bags of candy at the store, load up my pockets every morning, then sell Jolly Ranchers to the other kids at twice the price. I did that for years. We weren’t supposed to have candy in school, of course. In a way I was dealing drugs – the oh-so-addictive drug of sugar.
I collected aluminum cans. There was a stint selling newspapers at various grocery stores on the weekends, back when people bought newspapers from little kids in hats and aprons. Any time I passed a pay phone or soda machine I stuck my fingers in the change slot, always hopeful, and sometimes lucky.
I handed out flyers for a surf shop on the beach in exchange for t-shirts. One of the hotels in Galveston hired me as a “porter.” That’s service industry lingo for someone that carries bags and does chores at a hotel, though I have never heard the term used by anyone since then. My favorite thing at that job was cleaning the pool equipment and raising the flag.
I was a busboy for years in a restaurant then moved on to a grocery store where I picked up hours any way I could … cashier, stocker, floral, video department (we rented VHS tapes) – anything path that led to greenbacks.
While I was in the Air Force, I accumulated some debt and worked a 2nd job to pay it off – first as a gas station clerk, then later as a delivery guy for Papa John’s. A couple of years later I tried to flesh out my writing and started working on novels. I managed to knock out a few books and that fulfilling in a way I can’t truly express in words, as ironic as that might be.
For a year after I got out of the military, I was Mr. Mom. Drove kids to school, cleaned house, and continued writing. I subbed at the schools and volunteered.
Now I am at what might be my final job doing administrative work at a university. It’s fun to me. Instead of writing, I have been designing book covers and logos in the evening. If you connect the dots, my interest in this started with my own book covers. It’s a truly relaxing thing for me and I make some money, to boot.
But … and as they say, there is always a but … I’m tired. I feel this very deep exhaustion that goes way beyond taking a day off or sleeping late to recuperate. I have joked that it’s long covid, and who knows, maybe it really is, but I don’t think so because it’s been building for some time.
Have you ever felt that way, dear reader?
Sincerely yours,
Mr. Tired
During my K-5 years, I was always doing something for change. In our apartments you had to walk your trash a goodly distance over to communal dumpsters. I set up a deal with a bunch of tenants to carry their bags for them – a quarter a bag – starting around 2nd grade.
Around that same time, I would buy bags of candy at the store, load up my pockets every morning, then sell Jolly Ranchers to the other kids at twice the price. I did that for years. We weren’t supposed to have candy in school, of course. In a way I was dealing drugs – the oh-so-addictive drug of sugar.
I collected aluminum cans. There was a stint selling newspapers at various grocery stores on the weekends, back when people bought newspapers from little kids in hats and aprons. Any time I passed a pay phone or soda machine I stuck my fingers in the change slot, always hopeful, and sometimes lucky.
I handed out flyers for a surf shop on the beach in exchange for t-shirts. One of the hotels in Galveston hired me as a “porter.” That’s service industry lingo for someone that carries bags and does chores at a hotel, though I have never heard the term used by anyone since then. My favorite thing at that job was cleaning the pool equipment and raising the flag.
I was a busboy for years in a restaurant then moved on to a grocery store where I picked up hours any way I could … cashier, stocker, floral, video department (we rented VHS tapes) – anything path that led to greenbacks.
While I was in the Air Force, I accumulated some debt and worked a 2nd job to pay it off – first as a gas station clerk, then later as a delivery guy for Papa John’s. A couple of years later I tried to flesh out my writing and started working on novels. I managed to knock out a few books and that fulfilling in a way I can’t truly express in words, as ironic as that might be.
For a year after I got out of the military, I was Mr. Mom. Drove kids to school, cleaned house, and continued writing. I subbed at the schools and volunteered.
Now I am at what might be my final job doing administrative work at a university. It’s fun to me. Instead of writing, I have been designing book covers and logos in the evening. If you connect the dots, my interest in this started with my own book covers. It’s a truly relaxing thing for me and I make some money, to boot.
But … and as they say, there is always a but … I’m tired. I feel this very deep exhaustion that goes way beyond taking a day off or sleeping late to recuperate. I have joked that it’s long covid, and who knows, maybe it really is, but I don’t think so because it’s been building for some time.
Have you ever felt that way, dear reader?
Sincerely yours,
Mr. Tired
September 8, 2022
Youth
This lady I work with always says, “Hello, young man!” when she sees me. Ha, if only that were true! No, I’m in the 2nd half of the game until they come up with some elixir that makes us live forever.
perspective
Something extraordinary and ironic in this world is perspective. People say they understand what perspective means. Then they turn right around and disregard any perspective different from their own. Not acknowledging other perspectives is not understanding, truly, what it means.
September 7, 2022
September 07th, 2022
This lady I work with always says, “Hello, young man!” when she sees me.
Ha, if only that were true!
No, I’m in the 2nd half of the game until they come up with some elixir that makes us live forever.
Ha, if only that were true!
No, I’m in the 2nd half of the game until they come up with some elixir that makes us live forever.
September 4, 2022
September 04th, 2022
Am I the only one who doesn’t understand why everyone stands up at football games? What’s the point of it - we have seats.
September 3, 2022
Sit Down
Am I the only one who doesn’t understand why everyone stands up at football games? What’s the point of it – we have seats.
September 1, 2022
iOS Health
Okay, here’s the hard push for iOS Health. This is about the coolest and most useful health app I have seen. It’s fantastic when you’re young, but better than fantastic for those of us who are, well, solidly middle-aged. Here’s what you can do: Set it up to ingest data from your doctor’s website. Curious …
