I'm working in the hobby store today. I took this job about six months ago not as an additional source of income (this job doesn't even support my coffee habit), but mostly for a challenge. I wasn't feeling comfortable with the Christian clique that was being formed around me. Now don't get me wrong, I love Christians. It amazes me that wherever I go in this world I'll never be alone...not only do I always have Jesus standing next to me, I've got his people too.

There is something to be said about outsiders though. Outsiders simply meaning people outside my Christian clique. I get a great dose of them in the hobby store. Most of my customers are over sized boys who didn't have enough shiny toys growing up and they're trying to make up for it now. These men curse and joke in ways that would get someone thrown out of the church. I think they look at my tattoos and just assume it's cool with me. It is cool with me. It's even cooler with me when they begin to see a better way that's out there. Maybe they somehow absorb the music I've got playing in the background right now?


So as I sit here in my retail experiment I can't help to look over at the radio-controlled trucks and recall a strange childhood memory. It comes up every now and again when I see certain types of Monster Trucks. Grave Digger is the one in particular in case you were wondering. My mom bought a Grave Digger radio-controlled truck for my step brother John as a birthday gift. John was a real twerp. Anyway, we were riding in the car and the truck was sitting in between my feet on the front floorboard of our 1985 Chevy Wagon. I was beginning to feel carsick and I told my mom. She said I would be fine, but as we pulled into the driveway of our little trailer home I ralphed right before I could get the door open. I got some puke on the Monster truck and my mom freaked out. She screamed maniacally and cussed like a sailor at me. Whoops, my bad.

On another note, I'm currently on steroids and I think they're making me a little crazy. I keep feeling manic depressive and irritable followed by euphoric. Poison Ivy stinks.

It's been awhile in the making now but, today was my first day back to work in retail hell.

I believe it's been around three and a half years or so since I've been in the selling role. It felt quite strange today. I felt a bit lost...a bit uneasy. I think I'll get used to it and I'm pretty sure it will help me in my relationships with people.

My style was really starting to get cramped hanging around Christians all the time. Some of them are great. Some of them are spectacular people who truly walk what they talk and live life in amazing ways...but, that's only some of them.

I need to experience some realness. I'm around so many phony people all the time that it's amazing when I meet someone who is authentic. It shouldn't be an amazing thing to meet someone who is authentic. Not that outsiders from the church scene aren't phony too...don't get me wrong. We've all been someone we're not at some point.

A woman knocked into a ladder and it fell over and broke something today. She screamed "Jesus Fucking Christ!". I thought to myself, the overbearing Christian in me wants to be offended. I'm not offended though. I don't know if I should be...all I know is that I kept thinking, 'So that's His middle name?'.

Lord have mercy on us...we know not what we do.