Table settings and marriage

Today I decided was a good day to take my break at Chipotle, the I guess you could call it a short order burrito place. I had some cash burning a hole in my wallet and I was afraid if I left it in there too long my usually empty wallet would start to reject it. So I drove across the street, it was really cold...freezing even, and unknowingly stepped into a situation that would not only renew my faith in humanity as a whole, but also in love.
You're probably thinking, Dave...come on that's a big renewal to have at a place like Chipotle, I mean you have to be at like a coffee shop or some organic eatery to have a realization like that. I say fie on you! One of my realizations this evening was that something extraordinary can seem so deceptively simple that we often overlook it. But tonight I caught it like a fly zipping past my face.
The situation...I had been eating my steak burrito by my lonesome doing the simple math problems in my head that the mother was pressing on her daughter at the table next to me while I stared between my burrito and the world beyond the window. Nothing eventful there. Occasionally I'd glance at the table of high-schoolers and not think much about them. My mind was kind of tired from the moral dilemma that had been plaguing me since my boss chewed me out but that's an entire different issue that needs more time for reflection before I start spewing my thoughts out. So as I finish the last few bites of my delicious meal I sigh deeply knowing that my pathetic minimum wage job that I tell myself everyday to be thankful for is calling me back. I stand up and ditch my waste in the appropriate receptacle and leave my plastic basket in the designated area. As I turn to walk towards the door I notice the old man sitting at the booth on the other side of me walk to the drink station. I glance at his table before promptly double-taking back to it.
I notice something immediately...it's set for two. This whole time I had thought the man was alone because I hadn't seen anyone with him yet. Nothing too life-changing there, then I realized the same thing but in a different way...the table was SET for two. To fully comprehend this statement you must realize that Chipotle didn't have place mats or even silver wear. I don't think you can call it fast food but the utensils and napkins worked the same way, they didn't come on the table. This gentleman had unfolded and laid out two napkins like place mats on either side of the table, and had put a knife and a fork in their respective places with a bottle of green Tabasco sauce between them. I watched him walk over to his equally advanced in years wife and help her get them drinks. Then I promptly took a picture of the table on my phone and wanted to shake that man's hand. I didn't of course but in my heart I saluted him.
My realization through all this was as follows. This man loves his wife enough to even set the table for them at a "restaurant." This might be completely normal for them which makes it that much more special to me. In a world of divorce and pain this guy loves his wife probably because he has for longer than he can remember. Now I don't know this gentleman but I know he did something special for his wife because he found her worth the effort and has probably found her worth the effort for a lifetime. Basically it was the sweetest thing I've seen a guy do for a girl in a while. It was refreshing because the guys I'm around at work treat girls and women more like something to be used rather than cherished. This man unknowingly refreshed my hope in my own abilities to cherish the ones I love for as long as I live. So kudos guy for giving me that glimmer of hope I'd been looking for. Keep setting that table and I'll start setting mine. If I ever see you again I will shake your hand...I promise.

I've Come For Blood, Pt. 1, Are you kidding me?!?

This marks the beginning of what will hopefully be a long-lived commentary on my existence as a college graduate. One day I will hopefully be able to publish a book of essays called I've Come For Blood: A commentary on life by David Awalt. So without further adue...I humbly present Pt. 1, Are you kidding me?!?...

Geronimo!!! I feel kind of like I got robbed; robbed of my inalienable right to utter some sort of guttural yell as I charge headlong into something knew and unknown. I wish the transition to adulthood and the real world would have been more sudden then maybe I could have found the chance to achieve this vocal fantasy, but instead it was drawn out and a bit tiresome. It wasn't the go to bed a child and wake up an adult type of experience I'd always dreamed it would be.
I can remember the day I really set my heart to get out of my safe and secure college town, which was well within the shield of my parents' protective umbrella. I can remember the day I told my parents I just couldn't do school anymore that I needed to go out and live a little. I can remember the day I broke the news to my friends. And I can remember the day I actually moved. The day I officially set out on my own to see where life would take me. The only problem was it just wasn't as romantic and dramatic a transition as I thought it was going to be. In reality it was rather drawn out with all the breaking of news and hugs and goodbyes and talks about what I was going to do and everything else that goes along with leaving your home away from home for the past four years.
I say all that to make a point, life doesn't always go the way you expect it to and even want it to. I mean I still charged headlong into a new and potentially failing experience but I did it at a walk. I put my metaphorical fingers up to my head like bull horns, pawed the ground with my foot, lowered my head and slowly walked forward into the unknown.
For me this meant about a solid month of slowly watching your little bit of savings go away, then your credit card bill go up. A solid month of sitting in from of a computer at your house filling out job applications and slowly letting the depression creep in on you. A few times I found the courage to get my vitamin D starved self out of the house and to a local coffee shop to continue my search. I watched my dream bubbles of being an influential writer / contributer to some publication burst. Then my dreams of writing for anyone at all burst. Then the fear that my proverbial paddle might be smaller than I thought and even, dare I say it...unusable when I found myself up a creek.
Then all the fear rushed away as I found a job. It wasn't a writing job, it wasn't influential or bettering the world in any way, but it was a job. I was a "sales associate" at a electronics store chain and I made minimum wage + "commission." I had a college degree and I'd been forced to settle for this job. But that isn't the issue here...no the real issue is something that happened one night when I was cleaning the windows. A coworker and I were outside the store when a guy on a skateboard rolled up haughtily with an acoustic guitar on his shoulder like an axe. He proceeded to ask if either one of us had a cigarette, which we didn't. So instead of leaving he asked if the guy working inside had one and then a drawn out tale of why he didn't have one and why he needed one. Apparently the raspy, tar-influenced voice is desired by some people. I proceeded to ask him where he was playing and he promptly told me. Normal enough right? Well the kicker is I told him I didn't know where that was and he with a single sentence ruined my faith in struggling musicians. He said he was glad I didn't know cause he didn't want me coming there and ruining the vibe of the place...
Are you kidding me?!?
That is the single most pretentious thing someone has said to me in a long time. I mean I'm all about vibes but what about me in my work uniform gives this the right to assume so much about me. I won't go into what I replied with but it wasn't polite, fortunately I think my sarcasm didn't hit a nerve with Mr. Pretentious and he kept making stupid jokes and being unwanted. When I finally skated off I was still just fuming. I told a few people about the incident and complained about the nerve of some people and then I had an epiphany. I was just like Mr. Pretentious there right when I moved. I was so worried about my cool new city and life experience "vibe" being ruined that I immediately passed judgment on some things I didn't even know anything about. But mainly I tried at first to forget about my past experiences and where I'd come from and been through in an effort to preserve this new "vibe." Thanks to some wonderful people though I didn't make it as far along the road marked douche as Mr. Pretentious, but I was definitely on my way. So with all that in mind I can finally throw back my head and yell at what's to come and warn it that I'm coming with an open mind and a good grasp at where I've come from. GERONIMO!!!

Life changes and minimum wage

It's 10 am on a Monday and I have no idea when I'm supposed to go into work. I have that sinking feeling that it was supposed to be at 9, which probably means that it was in actuality 9, but I don't think I'll get into too much trouble. For some reason after I went through the wake up process of snoozing my alarm about 4 times, I found myself in an extremely good mood. Everyday gets closer and closer to the big move, and packing my things makes that all the more real. Realizing that I am actually going to escape the protective bubble that Ruston puts over all who reside here, is a little nerve racking. For the first time in my 22 years of life I will live in a place that is out of my parents' zone of protection. This is exhilarating! After 18 years of living under their roof and then 4 years spent living an hour east of their roof, I am going 6 hours west under the roof that my buddy's dad owns but I will pridefully call my home. The risk of not having a job yet excites me as well as not knowing how everything will turn out. I have faith that I'll be fine, but you never know...and I think that "you never know" is what I'm truly chasing. For 22 years I have known I'll be fine. On all my trips and adventures there was always that "you'll be home soon" logic permeating through my subconcious, whether I wanted it too or not. But for once in my life I won't be home soon...so I've got a month to strategially pack my bandana, find a suitable stick that doesn't disagree too much with my left shoulder, figure out how to tie said bandana securely to said stick and hit the pavement. See ya Ruston, see ya bible belt, see ya friends, I won't be home soon...

Finding a job is hard

Due to my recent decision to leave the safety and comfort of Ruston and pursue a legitimate career in something other than inserting sale papers in the daily newspaper, which sucks pretty bad, I have had to start looking for this career. This is a frustrating and tedious process. I've been perusing various job sites and am finding some options but I'm just a little worried that these places get a barrage of potential and sometimes desperate people. So how exactly I make myself stand out over email...I have no clue. I just need to find someone who will pay me to write my opinions about stuff...good luck right?

A new age and new commitments

Summer has arrived and I have officially graduated...whoopee?
Recently I found myself with a college degree and no job or even any idea of where or how to get one. So I searched around the booming metropolis of Ruston and finally decided it would be in my best interest to get a paper route, strictly because my money was running out and I needed something. So here I am with an online class and a minimum wage job while my diploma laughs at me from the wall it hangs on.
After watching Confessions of a Shopaholic...yea I watched it because it was the movie of the day on the cruise my family took me on for my graduation...I decided I needed to get the heck out of Ruston and do something I actually enjoyed. So I've spent some time since I've gotten back searching for someone willing to hire me based on a winning attitude and sense of humor...and not necessarily experience. I've been meaning to start blogging for a while now since I think its the new thing of the future. That and twitter which I still have refused to get involved in. So that's all I've got for now but I'll come back with cruise stories later and other ramblings.
DAve

Gardenhoser

Baseball

There are many memories from my childhood that I value; the delicious smell that permeated from the kitchen when my mom made chex mix, the tree house in my back yard my dad built that set the scene for countless hours of pretend, my bright red bunk bed the filled my room, and too many others to list.
But one that is particularly meaningful to me now for whatever reason is the hours spend playing baseball with my buddy Eric. Why this memory is meaningful at this time I’m not exactly sure. It might be the changing leaves, the carefree nature that floats lazily around on the cool autumn breeze, or it might just be one of those things.
Eric was my best friend. His dad was in the air force and was conveniently stationed at Barksdale my third grade year. So his family moved in with his grandparents who lived two houses down from me. I can still remember driving home from school past his house and my mom telling me I should go make friends with Eric and his brother.
Unfortunately for me I was too shy to go play with them so it took a couple of weeks before fate brought us together. After that it would have taken a lot more to separate us. We spent every afternoon playing together, whether it was soccer, football, baseball, or DZ, a game we made up that is a story in its own.
So baseball…I don’t know how we got away with it. My neighborhood was far from spacious. Houses lined the sides of the street and driveways separated the front yards. Eric and I, his big brother Brian would occasionally accompany us, would get two gloves, a regular baseball, and my little aluminum bat and would go to the big pecan tree in my front yard. Then one would take batter and the other would run to the big oak tree in my neighbors yard.
This is where things got interesting. The selected batter would throw the ball up and attempt to hit the baseball to Saturn, completely disregarding any house windows or cars that lined the street. Usually the ball would fall fairly short of Saturn, and travel the 50 yards or so to the big oak tree where the chosen outfielder would be waiting.
Sometimes the ball would bounce off the tree, sometimes it would land with a loud thud on the roof of either my house or my neighbor’s, sometimes it would soar through the tree into the next neighbor’s yard, and sometimes it would just somehow avoid the bat and land on the ground.
We never once broke a window. Looking back I have trouble believing this. According to Murphy and his laws, two kids hitting a baseball around glass of any type should mean broken glass ten times out of ten. On the rare occasion that we would play while my neighbor’s car was parked in the front yard, we would sometimes send a screamer right into the side of the car, but would always miss the windows.
I can still remember some catches worthy of ESPN’s top ten, one in particular was a diving catch made by Eric right into a trash can full of leaves I had spent the morning raking up. Due to incredibleness of the catch, I didn’t mid picking up the leaves again after it fell over. Thinking back I should have written a letter to the trash can company complaining that their trash can couldn’t withstand a kid landing in it.
It might have just been us two, and it might have been dangerous, but it sure was fun. And the memories I have from it are priceless.

A New President

Recently our nation elected a new president, as I'm sure everybody knows. Besides the fact that it's all over the news and the topic of many conversations, the reason I'm thinking about this is because I saw a man wearing a Barack Obama shirt. It has Barack's face on it and I'm pretty sure he was giving a thumbs up or something equally inspiring. It also had the words "change" and "hope" all over it. As an uninformed citizen I wanted to approach this man and as unaggressively as I could, ask him how the topic of his shirt plans to change our nation. Unfortunately I don't believe this person could tell me, and I also firmly believe that he would get angry at me. I am not a racist person, but I firmly believe that race had a big factor in who peole voted for, especially for the uninformed. This applies to white and black people. I know a lot of people around here are worried about what will happen in the future but I'm suprisingly not. But I tend not to worry about things. I don't know where all of that came from or why it came out, but I hope the best for our nation.