There are only two times at work when this place is actually quiet: before we officially open and an hour before we close. Other than that, there?s constant hustle and bustle. More often than not, the noise that?s being made is completely unnecessary. Just a whole bunch of people talkin? loud and not saying a damn thing worth listening to. I tire of the infantile and a good number of my co-workers seem to be obsessed with it, from practical jokes to insults to toilet humor (literally ? every other week one of our toilets are defective and at least once a week someone complains about the stench emanating from one of them?usually sometime after lunch).

The revenge fantasy plays in my head like an A-B loop on a DVD player, carried out Mickey and Mallory Knox style: mowing down everyone in my path except for one who?s left alive to tell the tale. I?m not so sure I?d even be that courteous. Have I ever told you about my aversion to armored cars? When you have very little money, the last thing you need to be near is a Brinks truck. It?s tempting the hand of fate, seriously. Just the other day, I got a very vivid image of myself armed with two ?80s pop singles that I didn?t much care for. I did an ambush on the security guys in an armored car, throwing the vinyl like Chinese stars at their heads. (Damn that Shawn of the Dead movie trailer.) Now don?t ask me how I got out of it alive, but by the time it was all done, the aftereffects included the truck with doors wide open and a pair of security guards lying on the ground, foreheads embedded with jagged edges of George Michael?s ?Monkey? and ?Girlfriend? by Pebbles.

But if it came down to it for real, I don?t think I would have the heart for the fight. As much as I tell myself that a neoconservative killing spree would be for a worthy cause, do I really want to join the ranks of self-made vigilantes beating down hecklers at these presidential campaign rallies? And lest you think that this is strictly a sport played by the members of Chez Dubya, Kerry supporters have joined the fight club as well. Perhaps they figure if Johnny boy won?t take off the gloves, they?ll do him a solid and represent in the pit should a right-wing voice of dissent dare to get too boisterous. Later for that - there?s more than enough violence in the world.

My wife is convinced that it?s only a matter of time before Americans start beheading Arabs in retaliation of recent acts of terrorism against our own. Ah, my wife?always thinking ahead.

Last Saturday marked our five-year wedding anniversary as well as twelve years as a couple. Money?s beyond funny at this point, so we spent a quiet evening in. I don?t ever remember leftovers tasting so good or watching High Fidelity for the umpteenth time being so enjoyable. Our lives are mad hectic at the moment, so any time we can spend together is precious indeed.

We are currently one day into autumn. Seasons bring change and life in general is no different. I must remain confident that my season of change will come. More than that, I shouldn?t hold any preconceived notions about what form the blessing will come in. I emailed one of my mentors recently, telling my usual tale of woe (?I can?t believe I?m doing this job at this stage in my life, blah blah blah??). He reminded me that I?m still rather young and to be prepared for the change when it comes. It made me wonder why I?m putting a time frame on success. Why do I feel as if I was supposed to have it all together by now? Although tomorrow?s not promised to any of us, I?m only 30. God willing, I?ll live a long and productive life. But it?s best to live one day at a time and deal with what the day brings me. With the economy being shaky at best and a host of other uncertainties, I ought to leave the concept of success open to interpretation. I?m starting to get the feeling that when success comes, it will look vastly different from how I pictured it.