With all of the back to school hubbub finished, I’m finally drawn back to what the smoke hut is rather than a post to view the most atrocious throws of humanity before me. In this round, we discuss how smoke huts where people gather can be an awesome news source to the world around you. It’s true!
A lot was going on for a few days in a row and I would have had no clue about it if it weren’t for my comrades in the hut. So, we begin.
1) Flaming Hay Trucks.-- The weather has been rather dry here. Nine months out of the year, it’s rainy. But those three months of solid summer? Not a drop. The grass achieves an August brown by the end of June and the warm summer days draw longer and hotter as the summer continues. Oh, the Pacific Northwest. Anyway…the other day I was in the stockroom doing my thing and I went out for a smoke. I overheard a couple of people talking about the highway being blocked off due to a truck carrying a load of hay catching fire. It ignited grass fires in the near vicinity with no clue as to when the situation was going to taper down.
2) Mall Employee Suicide-- On the same day as the flaming truck incident, there was a barrage of cop cars littering the premises of the mall parking lot. I had no clue as to what was going on, but a fellow cancer fiend worked at the same place as this particular employee did. Apparently, a few customers saw a few cop cars and a tarp. A tarp, yes, covering a body. A body. I kid you not. Turns out, a disgruntled employee was so miserable with their job and what it had done to their life that they decided to end it all by jumping off of the tallest parking garage in the parking lot. Yikes.
I’ll refrain from boring you with further details, but these two incidents alone are huge events that I would have been clueless about if not for the smoke hut. For the most part we all talk about how horrible our jobs are, but other conversations filter in as well. I get updates, gossip, local news, national news, and just about anything else I’d need to know from the smoke hut. Am I encouraging all of you to take up smoking? Maybe, maybe not. But I do encourage you to take up a hut. You know, if not smoking itself.
Happy Hutting,
RY
Wednesday, September 7, 2011
Friday, September 2, 2011
Asshole Parents
I don’t want kids. I never have, I don’t see that ever changing about myself. I love my siblings and my family members still of youthful stature, even my friends’ kids I can tolerate swimmingly. It’s just the children that part themselves into the category ‘general public’ that I’ve got a problem with.
I was in the smoke hut the other day people watching and as many of you know, Back to School time at the mall is fucking chaos. Hundreds of parents brave the premises with their children to drop hundreds of dollars on merchandise that their kids 1) probably don’t appreciate anyway and 2) they’ll be lying on the floor of their closets in just under a months time. I know. I was one of these asshole kids one time.
Anyway, I saw this kid (one of the few who wasn’t on a leash) running around like a crazy little shit and he started climbing a lamp post. A lamp post, yes. The parent was sitting in the smoke hut next to me talking on their cell phone (Bluetooth, mind you, suggestively for the purpose of being able to attend to their child better) and playing with an iPad. Not even looking at their kid. This particular lamp post was about a foot off of the curb next to the street where a good majority of the mall traffic passes through. It wasn’t until the kid got about twenty feet up the pole before panic ensued.
After this mother realized what was happening, she ran over to the lamp post presumably to attempt to get their child down from their now 25+ feet height achieved and you know what she did? She continued her conversation only breaking briefly to yell at her kid, ‘hey! Get down from there!’
The child threw his head back in laughter and continued climbing. He reached the top, which was at my best guess 35 feet or more, and neither party started panicking until a UPS truck started backing up directly toward the lamp post. Now, I’ve seen this UPS truck almost each day I attend the smoke hut. I’m there pretty regularly and around the same times every day. Many of the stores at the mall get their shipments via FedEx of UPS, fair enough. Well..the UPS truck looked like it was going to hit the lamp post. I’ve only seen them actually hit it a handful of times, but that handful is more than enough cause for me to warn this not-so-troubled mother.
It was at this point that she finally put down the iPad, stopped the conversation, and asked the UPS driver for help. It took THAT MUCH. I was shocked, appalled, and filled with an unnerving sense of joy knowing that my parents would never have let me pull that kind of shit and technology would have never taken over my parents will to take care of me as a child.
So, what can we conclude from this? I’d say it’s the fact that yeah…kids suck. But parents today are much worse. This, more so than the whole stretching out my body for a little shit that won’t respect me in the end thing, deters me entirely from having kids. I never want to join that category of selfish parent. I love myself too much for that.
Happy Hutting!
--RY
I was in the smoke hut the other day people watching and as many of you know, Back to School time at the mall is fucking chaos. Hundreds of parents brave the premises with their children to drop hundreds of dollars on merchandise that their kids 1) probably don’t appreciate anyway and 2) they’ll be lying on the floor of their closets in just under a months time. I know. I was one of these asshole kids one time.
Anyway, I saw this kid (one of the few who wasn’t on a leash) running around like a crazy little shit and he started climbing a lamp post. A lamp post, yes. The parent was sitting in the smoke hut next to me talking on their cell phone (Bluetooth, mind you, suggestively for the purpose of being able to attend to their child better) and playing with an iPad. Not even looking at their kid. This particular lamp post was about a foot off of the curb next to the street where a good majority of the mall traffic passes through. It wasn’t until the kid got about twenty feet up the pole before panic ensued.
After this mother realized what was happening, she ran over to the lamp post presumably to attempt to get their child down from their now 25+ feet height achieved and you know what she did? She continued her conversation only breaking briefly to yell at her kid, ‘hey! Get down from there!’
The child threw his head back in laughter and continued climbing. He reached the top, which was at my best guess 35 feet or more, and neither party started panicking until a UPS truck started backing up directly toward the lamp post. Now, I’ve seen this UPS truck almost each day I attend the smoke hut. I’m there pretty regularly and around the same times every day. Many of the stores at the mall get their shipments via FedEx of UPS, fair enough. Well..the UPS truck looked like it was going to hit the lamp post. I’ve only seen them actually hit it a handful of times, but that handful is more than enough cause for me to warn this not-so-troubled mother.
It was at this point that she finally put down the iPad, stopped the conversation, and asked the UPS driver for help. It took THAT MUCH. I was shocked, appalled, and filled with an unnerving sense of joy knowing that my parents would never have let me pull that kind of shit and technology would have never taken over my parents will to take care of me as a child.
So, what can we conclude from this? I’d say it’s the fact that yeah…kids suck. But parents today are much worse. This, more so than the whole stretching out my body for a little shit that won’t respect me in the end thing, deters me entirely from having kids. I never want to join that category of selfish parent. I love myself too much for that.
Happy Hutting!
--RY
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
Back To It
After leaving IPFW to move to Portland, I kind of left my people watching to the campus. I didn't care as much because I wasn't actively seeking morons to write about and flame in the paper and to be honest...I developed an even more fervent hatred for the human race so I just didn't really care.
I still hate the human race, but hating the human race comes much easier when partaking in smoke breaks within the glass confines of a smoke hut located in a mall parking lot. That's right. It's not college students anymore, it's retail slaves and mall shoppers.
So get ready, brace yourselves...it's smoke hut diaries: mall edition. The first real post should be coming within the next week or so. I need to take a minute, draft up some ideas and draw those colorful mental pictures of the characters I encounter on a daily basis. Enter the lives and times of asshole children, slutty sixteen year old girls with daddy's credit card, and lifers submitted to the throws of mall employment.
Much love,
RY
I still hate the human race, but hating the human race comes much easier when partaking in smoke breaks within the glass confines of a smoke hut located in a mall parking lot. That's right. It's not college students anymore, it's retail slaves and mall shoppers.
So get ready, brace yourselves...it's smoke hut diaries: mall edition. The first real post should be coming within the next week or so. I need to take a minute, draft up some ideas and draw those colorful mental pictures of the characters I encounter on a daily basis. Enter the lives and times of asshole children, slutty sixteen year old girls with daddy's credit card, and lifers submitted to the throws of mall employment.
Much love,
RY
Monday, August 29, 2011
New Life, New Hut
I moved to Portland.
Yes, yes I did.
There's a smoke hut I regularly attend at the mall I work at.
I'm going to write about it.
Much love,
--RY
Yes, yes I did.
There's a smoke hut I regularly attend at the mall I work at.
I'm going to write about it.
Much love,
--RY
Thursday, December 3, 2009
Entry 8
As the semester draws to a close the unfortunate realization comes to fruition that the line up of the smoke hut next semester will change. No longer will we be graced with the presence of the same faces day after day, week after week. No longer will the same debauch topics climax in the same fashion that they do (well, at least not for the first week or two of the upcoming semester). And, worst of all, the element of the place changes so drastically that it’s almost awkward for the first few weeks of a new semester.
As I’ve said before, the huts on campus are places where people find their release throughout the monotony that tends to plague students during the throws of the semester. If it wasn’t for the people in regular attendance, though, then the huts would be nothing more than places where people went to smoke.
Over this semester I realized that the smoke huts were so much more than just places to smoke. I’ve realized that these are small little communities of people, all with at least one common bond, that come together once or several times a day to facet by facet reveal themselves on a level that complete strangers just don’t do.
I’ve always said that I hated people. This is a true statement. I hate everything about the idea of people, I hate the ways in which people conduct themselves, I hate the outright scummy things that people tend to do. But, what is misunderstood by this statement is that the concept of the individual differs greatly from the concept of people. This semester I was graced with the opportunity to meet individuals, to get know these unique entities on a level that simple passers by could not understand. I obtained a support system that I didn’t think existed outside of the comfort of family. They are even more than a support system… they are now my friends.
Even if some of these faces never make their way into my life again I have realized something very important by their presence over the past few months: everybody meets for a reason. You have all helped me through a tumultuous course in my collegiate career all the while providing me with a reason to want to come to school each and every day.
With that, I leave you all with this:
“A monument to monumental dying thoughts/ Let the currents take us where they will. From this (hut) I can see the world unfold before me. I’m brooding over broken nights/ I break each sentence like a limb. This is my exit.”
- The Lawrence Arms “Fireflies”
As I’ve said before, the huts on campus are places where people find their release throughout the monotony that tends to plague students during the throws of the semester. If it wasn’t for the people in regular attendance, though, then the huts would be nothing more than places where people went to smoke.
Over this semester I realized that the smoke huts were so much more than just places to smoke. I’ve realized that these are small little communities of people, all with at least one common bond, that come together once or several times a day to facet by facet reveal themselves on a level that complete strangers just don’t do.
I’ve always said that I hated people. This is a true statement. I hate everything about the idea of people, I hate the ways in which people conduct themselves, I hate the outright scummy things that people tend to do. But, what is misunderstood by this statement is that the concept of the individual differs greatly from the concept of people. This semester I was graced with the opportunity to meet individuals, to get know these unique entities on a level that simple passers by could not understand. I obtained a support system that I didn’t think existed outside of the comfort of family. They are even more than a support system… they are now my friends.
Even if some of these faces never make their way into my life again I have realized something very important by their presence over the past few months: everybody meets for a reason. You have all helped me through a tumultuous course in my collegiate career all the while providing me with a reason to want to come to school each and every day.
With that, I leave you all with this:
“A monument to monumental dying thoughts/ Let the currents take us where they will. From this (hut) I can see the world unfold before me. I’m brooding over broken nights/ I break each sentence like a limb. This is my exit.”
- The Lawrence Arms “Fireflies”
Saturday, November 28, 2009
Entry 7
Consider this another entry doting on the kindness of complete strangers. Consider this an entry documenting the time that I got a conglomerate of individuals fighting for a cause that may or may not be legitimate. Consider this an entry documenting a time that I felt like a complete fool.
Allow me to preface this by saying that I find issues involving the gay community to be of utmost importance. I feel that a lot of people are sifting through attempt after attempt at putting a label on what we can or cannot look like or who we can or cannot love. The fight for equal rights in this respect is a fight worth fighting for and shame on those who do not feel this way. I feel truly sorry for you.
With that said, a week or two ago I was in a class that two of my fellow hutters, Jennifer and Adam, are also in. There’s an individual that was in our class by the name of Brittany who seemed to be undergoing some hard transitions in her life and through attempts of seeking acceptance she only found herself drowning in the swell of abandonment.
In an attempt to nurture this sense of abandonment, she reached out to members of our class asking for help, a friend, anyone who cared enough to give her the time of day. There were a few who gladly offered their assistance, even if it was only an ear to pay attention, people in the class were more than willing to help.
Then, it seemed, things began getting a little bit repetitive. We would get e-mails from this individual almost every other day updating us on her fragile, unstable state. We’d try to reach out. We’d try to listen, however it seemed that almost any time that anybody tried she made herself more and more unavailable. We felt for her, we really did, but we were running out of ideas. Then, one day, while Brittany was in attendance of the class, things came to unfortunate fruition in the form of an almost overdose in the middle of class.
The following class session held upon us some very frustrating, angering news. We found out that Brittany had tried to seek help from Campus Ministries, a Christian organization held on campus, and was in so many words told she could not seek assistance from them because ‘it’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.’
Instantaneous infuriation beheld the entire class as instant arms were in outreach to Brittany and we were in any way we could at will to help. I, along with Jennifer and Adam, were getting ourselves in order to run this up the flagpole. I quickly contacted members of United Sexualities at IPFW and the Gay Community Center of Fort Wayne asking for assistance and opinions on remedying this ailment on our good conscience. Members of the hut that weren’t even in the class, didn’t even know Brittany, were ready to stand up for her cause.
Soon, though, after making contact with these organizations I received a phone call from another member of our class stating that Brittany’s afflictions were blown up almost like celebrity gossip in yellow journalism. She didn’t want professional help, she kept asking for the help of several classmates but appeared ungrateful on receipt of assistance and friendship. Also, the most unfortunate fact in all of this, was the fact that we no longer knew what was true and what wasn’t.
I contacted again the aforementioned organizations and essentially asked them to attain their own facts regarding the issue for mine had been permanently skewed. I felt so taken advantage of and even worse than that, I felt foolish. I know that gay issues are important, however I felt that Brittany’s carelessness with the gestures of others played to an almost humorous tone on the fragile, important issues at hand.
People felt betrayed, tricked, and overall very unhappy for the fact that we were about to stand up for an issue in honor of Brittany’s trials, trials that at this point could have been false all along. Even worse, people who had not been exposed to adverse lifestyles such as this previously now probably have a skewed look on what some of these people go through and the help that some of them truly need. We were manipulated both in our kindness and advocacy.
My request is simple. There are people out their who need real help and this is not meant to be a statement about how it’s bad to help people, or don’t reach out, or anything like that. This is asking to not let attention seekers ruin your impression of people in different lifestyles. This is an attempt to not take away the importance of these issues, this is just to ask everyone not to respond to cries of ‘wolf.’ Keep an open ear, an open mind, and an open heart but don’t fall victim to falsified notions of need.
Allow me to preface this by saying that I find issues involving the gay community to be of utmost importance. I feel that a lot of people are sifting through attempt after attempt at putting a label on what we can or cannot look like or who we can or cannot love. The fight for equal rights in this respect is a fight worth fighting for and shame on those who do not feel this way. I feel truly sorry for you.
With that said, a week or two ago I was in a class that two of my fellow hutters, Jennifer and Adam, are also in. There’s an individual that was in our class by the name of Brittany who seemed to be undergoing some hard transitions in her life and through attempts of seeking acceptance she only found herself drowning in the swell of abandonment.
In an attempt to nurture this sense of abandonment, she reached out to members of our class asking for help, a friend, anyone who cared enough to give her the time of day. There were a few who gladly offered their assistance, even if it was only an ear to pay attention, people in the class were more than willing to help.
Then, it seemed, things began getting a little bit repetitive. We would get e-mails from this individual almost every other day updating us on her fragile, unstable state. We’d try to reach out. We’d try to listen, however it seemed that almost any time that anybody tried she made herself more and more unavailable. We felt for her, we really did, but we were running out of ideas. Then, one day, while Brittany was in attendance of the class, things came to unfortunate fruition in the form of an almost overdose in the middle of class.
The following class session held upon us some very frustrating, angering news. We found out that Brittany had tried to seek help from Campus Ministries, a Christian organization held on campus, and was in so many words told she could not seek assistance from them because ‘it’s Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve.’
Instantaneous infuriation beheld the entire class as instant arms were in outreach to Brittany and we were in any way we could at will to help. I, along with Jennifer and Adam, were getting ourselves in order to run this up the flagpole. I quickly contacted members of United Sexualities at IPFW and the Gay Community Center of Fort Wayne asking for assistance and opinions on remedying this ailment on our good conscience. Members of the hut that weren’t even in the class, didn’t even know Brittany, were ready to stand up for her cause.
Soon, though, after making contact with these organizations I received a phone call from another member of our class stating that Brittany’s afflictions were blown up almost like celebrity gossip in yellow journalism. She didn’t want professional help, she kept asking for the help of several classmates but appeared ungrateful on receipt of assistance and friendship. Also, the most unfortunate fact in all of this, was the fact that we no longer knew what was true and what wasn’t.
I contacted again the aforementioned organizations and essentially asked them to attain their own facts regarding the issue for mine had been permanently skewed. I felt so taken advantage of and even worse than that, I felt foolish. I know that gay issues are important, however I felt that Brittany’s carelessness with the gestures of others played to an almost humorous tone on the fragile, important issues at hand.
People felt betrayed, tricked, and overall very unhappy for the fact that we were about to stand up for an issue in honor of Brittany’s trials, trials that at this point could have been false all along. Even worse, people who had not been exposed to adverse lifestyles such as this previously now probably have a skewed look on what some of these people go through and the help that some of them truly need. We were manipulated both in our kindness and advocacy.
My request is simple. There are people out their who need real help and this is not meant to be a statement about how it’s bad to help people, or don’t reach out, or anything like that. This is asking to not let attention seekers ruin your impression of people in different lifestyles. This is an attempt to not take away the importance of these issues, this is just to ask everyone not to respond to cries of ‘wolf.’ Keep an open ear, an open mind, and an open heart but don’t fall victim to falsified notions of need.
Friday, November 13, 2009
Entry 6
A couple of weeks ago I sustained a hefty injury, on my birthday no less. Said injury had me limited to mobility on crutches with little to no use of my left foot. I was unable to fit a shoe over the foot and had to continually ice, wrap, and take a consistent regimen of ibuprofen to limit the pain caused by my useless appendage. That said, a handful of individuals are in need of thanks.
Traitor Chris, although you are pegged a traitor and will remain as such for a long, long future ahead of you… you re-wrapped my foot when my abilities to do so were less than apt. I thank you for this.
Gay Chris, you helped me in a very similar fashion. You wrapped my foot when I was too scatter brained to do so in a decent fashion. You were there the night of my injury and you were there to help with the avalanche of problems that the injury brought on. Thank you.
Jennifer, you brought me an air cast and supplied me with ibuprofen when I ran out of my what was supposed to be endless supply. Repetitive thanks are in order for your assistance.
Jake, whose father is an orthopedic surgeon, sent a picture of my disfigured, swollen, bruised and useless foot to his father to see what he had to say about it. He allowed me a professional opinion of what I should do about the injury and the advice has already helped me out a ton.
These random, unsolicited acts of kindness do not go unnoticed and they are not limited to the CM hut, which I frequent. Angela, a regular patron of the Kettler hut, too has tales of random acts of kindness offered from mere acquaintances. There was a time when she was limited to mobility via a cane and patrons of the Kettler hut offered their assistance regularly and without hesitation. When it rains, the men clear out a bench for the ladies to have a seat. When someone’s hurt, they help where they can.
My assignment for anyone who reads this article today is to do something nice for someone. It doesn’t matter what. Pay someone a compliment, open a door for someone, say hello to a perfect stranger. These random acts are enough to brighten someone’s day entirely and they should happen more often than what they do.
Smoke hut, once again you have opened my eyes to the fact that not all hope is lost. Keep on keeping on.
Traitor Chris, although you are pegged a traitor and will remain as such for a long, long future ahead of you… you re-wrapped my foot when my abilities to do so were less than apt. I thank you for this.
Gay Chris, you helped me in a very similar fashion. You wrapped my foot when I was too scatter brained to do so in a decent fashion. You were there the night of my injury and you were there to help with the avalanche of problems that the injury brought on. Thank you.
Jennifer, you brought me an air cast and supplied me with ibuprofen when I ran out of my what was supposed to be endless supply. Repetitive thanks are in order for your assistance.
Jake, whose father is an orthopedic surgeon, sent a picture of my disfigured, swollen, bruised and useless foot to his father to see what he had to say about it. He allowed me a professional opinion of what I should do about the injury and the advice has already helped me out a ton.
These random, unsolicited acts of kindness do not go unnoticed and they are not limited to the CM hut, which I frequent. Angela, a regular patron of the Kettler hut, too has tales of random acts of kindness offered from mere acquaintances. There was a time when she was limited to mobility via a cane and patrons of the Kettler hut offered their assistance regularly and without hesitation. When it rains, the men clear out a bench for the ladies to have a seat. When someone’s hurt, they help where they can.
My assignment for anyone who reads this article today is to do something nice for someone. It doesn’t matter what. Pay someone a compliment, open a door for someone, say hello to a perfect stranger. These random acts are enough to brighten someone’s day entirely and they should happen more often than what they do.
Smoke hut, once again you have opened my eyes to the fact that not all hope is lost. Keep on keeping on.
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