I was driving the other day to drop off an application for an apartment. I am sure it something most people have done numerous times. Yet I have never had the displeasure. There was college when everyone went to the student center at appointed times and picked their housing options, but that was a forgone conclusion that a room would be available. Filing an application for housing is something else, much like a job application, but somehow different for me. I always assumed I would have a job, knew I would need to apply for some. Though of course nowadays, the materials are clicked off in an e-mail; that great trepidation of being judged on first sight is limited. Though I had already met the rental agent, so it wasn't an appearance thing. Partly it was making a reality of the fact that I was breaking the promise to myself never to pay rent. Not only would I be paying rent but I would be signing a lease. I was obligating myself to pay money. Yet, I have been paying my fiancee's rent for nearly six months. So some official breaking of my self-trust wasn't the base cause of my raging stomach pit. It was the idea of being judged on my credit history that so dismayed me. The indignation that assorted mistakes were summing up me. Our value is not based on our character, who we are and how we present ourselves, but simply how bills are paid. my credit score is less than stellar because I extended my credit to family and they were not diligent in their bill paying. So there I was driving the Matrix, trying to calm the belly circus. Two hours of procrastination were winding down. I didn't know how miserable apartment hunting can be - looking in the ad, contacting the manager, setting up the visit, weighing the pros and cons, taking the application, sleeping on it then doing the application and finally turning it in for review. Then the computers crunch and spit out a ballpark figure of how worthy you are. Really, FICO knows my value? IT wasn't too painless, the rental agent seemed ready to hand us the keys but he was only putting together the file so the owner knew what she was getting into with us. Yet we passed on that first apartment that seem perfect except the plethora of pit bulls next door and throughout the neighborhood. We, liked so much else about the place, that we might have just hung in a little longer and prayed that the dogs were safe. But after the 50 bucks was gone, we went back to met the agent and tell him for sure we were not interested. It felt liberating and joyful, we went to celebrate andon thesojourn headed for a place my fiancee had an appointment. The curb repeal was tremendous, but as we walked to the unit tucked way back, we realized we had found paradise. Everything we wanted, at our price. We faxed the application, and knowing the credit history made it easuer to face that nagging pit feeling. One day the manager was waiting for the credit checks to return, then he was waiting to meet us.

A year ago I probably wrote in my journal, it probably says who I wrote a letter to as well. Now I can arely get myself to look at a pen. So here I think aloud on the computer. I just watched 21. With some of them wicked smaht kids. I am one of them kids too. I'd get lazy because math and science were easy, the numbers made sense, the theories, the proofs. I was in Vegas last week and gambled 12 dollars. On slots. Just hoping the computer would choose me as the lucky one. The possibility of a million to one shot. Could've bet on Pacquiao or the locomotives and at least won something. There are video games and buffets in Vegas too, they have a known return on investment. But for what? Money? A substitute for trade in faith? At the end of 21 Laurence Fishburne tells the kid he's smart and will get what he wants in life, but an old hustler can only hustle. I guess I should read the book find out if the kid went to HMS and became a doctor. So it is, one sets a goal and works towards it or change is and wonders. It is time for me to work again.

I left work the other night talking with a guy who is being let go in December. He only works once a week and usually stays late, which I am in the habit of doing as well. So we struck up a friendship. As we reached the parking lot we saw another pair of employers chatting. We greeted them with a joke about how everyone hangs out in the parking lot to talk about the "good stuff" at work. One of the other folks headed for home after a couple jokes, leaving three of us standing and blabbering about work silliness. The place I work is going through some big changes brought on by new leadership. Some of the newness has great potential and some just makes people shake their heads and grumble. We were mostly grumbling. The guy facing the driveway from the directors parking lot pointed out that our new boss, whose decisions we were questioning, was heading towards us and recommended we split the powwow. As he and the other guy hightailed it towards their cars, I was wondering if it looked worse lingering in the parking lot chatting, or looking guilty by splitting as the poobah drove up? I paused, feeling it was better to talk than run. Yet as everyone else was gone, I headed towards my car and looked back to see the boss, stop her fancy car near the guy who suggested we make haste. It was a brief conversation but humorous to watch. I wondered if she would stop me as well. No such luck. Though we three gathered by my truck to debrief the boss visit. A couple half truths was the best quick thinking he could do. But at least we would have the same half truths to tell. Though the boss never asked. I drove out of the parking lot late for a meeting, but not too late. After the meeting I lingered in the road to talk with one of the other attendees. It was a good conversation. I thought about my earlier parking lot lingering and how the boss was upset or uneasy about us hanging out. I have spent most of my working life in jobs where we worked and hung out together. The transition was when a task ended, when staff shirts were replaced by anything else, we were always home --no need to go somewhere else. It still seems funny to me that a job is just a job, something 9-5, then there is another life to be led, another community to be nurtured. That when 5 o'clock hits, everyone is suppose to scatter and scurry for "home." I think people should want to build commuities around those they live with or work with, they should want to spend more time together, not some prescribed number of hours. Lingering longer should be a good sign, like the folks at Cheers, everyone knows your name and you're glad just to hang out a little longer with them. Not in holiday parties and other work focused events, but human firendship focused doings. Those are the times people go deep, become honest and are free to really know others. That should make people happy because it builds bonds and community. mmm mmm I wanna linger, mmm mmm a little longer, mmm mmm a little longer here with you. come some day I will remember I all the wonderful times I had with you.

I was working at a camp seveal years ago and the director kept saying what sounded like "dootiyo'ed." I finally had to ask someone what he ws saying and the guy explaine "duty owed." Oh, as we are given someone's trust we have a responsibility, or duty, that is needed, or owed. In hanging out with folks who buy and sell lots of real estate, they talk about "due diligence." When one buys something, there is a burden on the purchaser to investigate fully what is being bought. Duty owed and due diligence are legal terms to lay or avoid blame. Many people complain about living in a world of lawyer, but the truth is we live in a world of lawyers because we have acted in such ways as to make it necessary. The handshake and smile are no longer valid means of making a deal. We no longer see others as human beings who might be worse off than us, so we create systems to remind ourselves or implore us to act in such a manner. If we want things to be different, we have to change. I have to change. I have to trust after I am hurt. I have to be honest when it hurts me. Each interaction of each moment, we are choosing how we want the future to be. If we look to the distant shore and dip our paddles in that direction, we will reach the shore. Only if we maintain the focus and momentum. We make true what we think, what we live, so we need to focus on the greatest and noblest. And trust it will come true.

I am at camp, visiting people, I went to breakfast this morning. The fruit bar was out, eggs and hash browns on the hot buffet. As I finished up eating, I realized I wanted some bread. There was none. Oh well. I decided to read the Catholic daily readings today before heading off to lunch - having missed morning Masses- Elijah getting bread and water from an Angel and continuing his journey, Paul telling us and the Ephesians to be imitators of Christ and "live in love" and be a sacrficial offering to God with a fragrant aroma. And Jesus proclaiming, I am the Bread of Life." Yeah I need Bread. When your desires cannot be immediately fulfilled, they are transformed and develop deeper meaning.