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Nolan Nichols

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[29 Jan 2009|07:25pm]
[ mood | pleased ]
[ music | My Hero || Foo Fighters ]

I had a doctor's appointment today, so I didn't have to open. I left the store in Miller's capable hands and drove myself to the doctor's office. This cast has been such an inconvenience... it's the little things I can't do that piss me off the most. Case in point: It regularly takes me twenty minutes to a half hour just to get dressed. It takes at least that long in the shower, usually longer. I have to put the bottle of shampoo in my armpit and squeeze it into the one hand I have that's not covered in a plastic bag. Shampooing one-handed is a balancing act. At least I can still reach almost everywhere with the soap -- except for my right armpit. It doesn't get scrubbed as thoroughly as I would like. I mean, I can kind of hold the soap in my left hand with the baggie on it... but not very well. Plastic plus water plus soap equals slippery. Imagine that.

So I'm losing sleep because of this damned thing -- not because it interrupts my actual sleeping, but because I have to get up even earlier to compensate for the extra time I need. The Short Stop opens daily at 5:00am. It takes me fifteen minutes to drive there from my place. On a non-handicapped average day it takes less than fifteen minutes to shower and under five minutes to dress myself. I used to get up at 4:00am, just to give myself a buffer. I've had to push it back to 3:30am. I remember when that used to be a good time to consider going to bed, but it's never been a great time to wake up.

Things all checked out normally at the doctor. He took x-rays and said that things were healing well on track. No amount of charm could get him to let me out of that cast, though. I've still got a few weeks til it comes off. Because of my work schedule, I had to schedule an appointment on a Saturday morning. So even on my day off, I don't get to sleep in. So, February 14th, I'll be done with the thing.

I got done at the doctor's early enough to surprise Beckett after class. She came home to find me sitting on the stoop of her building. I hadn't been there long, but I twisted her arm into letting me buy her lunch. I don't think I told her during, but I really haven't seen her in a long time and it was nice to see her. It was just sandwiches at the Market, but it was fun.

That's right. Nolan Nichols knows how to have fun, occasionally. Despite what you might have heard.

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[05 Jan 2009|11:47pm]
[ mood | weird ]
[ music | Little Motel || Modest Mouse ]

I had a dream last night that I was a ferris wheel operator, complete with trucker hat and two completely tattooed sleeves up to my elbows on either side. The dream wasn't really about anything -- didn't have a narrative or anything. It was just like looking into a flipside to something that my life is not. Beckett was there, chewing the biggest wad of bubblegum I've ever seen, and she was blonde.

So, on Christmas day, my sister woke me up with snow in my bed. Subsequent events led to me spraining my wrist. Well, actually breaking my wrist, which, as it turns out, is actually more painful and a serious pain in the ass. Wrist, actually. It's made my life really difficult. Having your hand in a cast sucks. I've never actually broken a bone before. I didn't know you could get cool colored casts. I picked out the black one so nobody could write stupid things or draw pictures of dicks all over it.

Miller helped me out and forced me to go to the doctor. It's a good thing she did, because I could have really screwed it up by just wearing the brace.

Private.
Going to Miller's was one of the weirdest experiences I've had lately. I didn't really want to go. Well, I wanted out of my formerly-favorite sweater, but I wanted to do it myself. But I just couldn't. I couldn't do it on my own, because it hurt so much. Miller dragged me out of the store, kidnapped me and took me back to her place. She helped me out of my shirts, let me shower, and even washed my clothes for me. The kindness of the whole gesture trumps my stupid pride that was wounded by needing help in the first place, but it was still undeniably bizarre. Well, standing in somebody's kitchen in a borrowed bathrobe is enough to make anyone uncomfortable, for starters. The last time someone helped me pull off my clothes... well, something else was going on entirely. And there were just times when she said weird things -- weirder than usual, not the easy, smart, biting back-and-forth I usually find on the shifts we share.

Weird. It's still kind of weird since.
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[22 Dec 2008|04:40pm]
[ mood | cold ]
[ music | Mad World || Gary Jules ]

Managerial duties aren't all their cracked up to be. I hate how it's my responsibility to unbury the Short Stop, and the parking lot, just so we can open on a day when I'm not even supposed to be in. It was Rodney's day to work, but he's too inept to shovel snow and get things ready. Oh, and apparently my boss lost the contract he'd had with our snow plow guy. I don't know how he managed to do it, but he offended the guy, called him an asshole, this that or whatever. He couldn't have done this, oh, I don't know, before this monster freak snow storm. So somehow, between me and Rodney, plus his cousins Ian and Grant, we managed to get our tiny parking lot unburied in the dark, and opened for business two hours late.

If Jordan complains one more time that it never snows up here, I'm going to put a snowball in her bed. Eighteen inches in Tacoma is ridiculous... and it's not going away any time soon. At least the roads are getting better.

I'm closing tonight, then I don't have to be in again until the 26th. I'll be headed down to Tacoma for a few days. Unless Rodney and Miller manage to burn the Stop down before then.

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[01 Dec 2008|09:18am]
"...and I know that things get worse before they get better... but this is a worse that feels too big." -- The Perks of Being a Wallflower, by Stephen Chbosky

You know how sometimes, despite how well certain things in your own life are going, everything gets ripped to hell the instant one of your friends is going through a rough spot?

Well, I thought that things were bad when Jordan first came home. It killed me to see her so upset about something that I didn't understand.  I still don't know what Jordan's deal was, even though I hope she'll tell me someday. She's definitely withdrawn from NYU now, officially, and the move went smoothly and everything... But Jordan wasn't dealing with grief. This is different. This is real. Because I've learned the facts about what happened, and the fact that it's hurting one of my best friends so completely and I can't do anything is just... it kills me.

I hate this. I hope that doesn't sound selfish, because it's not meant to. I don't care about how any of this makes me feel... I just want things to feel better for her.
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[19 Nov 2008|12:13pm]
[ mood | grumpy ]
[ music | Lost! || Coldplay ]

This might be me going out on a limb here, but there's a chance that Seattle might shut down without me behind the counter of the Short Stop. People need their respective caffeine and nicotine fixes. Fear not, good citizens, the store won't be closed, I just won't be behind the register doing crossword puzzles and reading all the magazines (and I do mean all the magazines)...

Tonight, I'm kidnapping my sister and taking her back to New York where she belongs. Yes, she belongs there, even if she doesn't think so. If possible, I'm going to convince her not to drop out of NYU. If that doesn't work, we'll stick to the previously-assigned mission of packing up her stuff (and the stuff of mine that she stole) out of her dorm room and into boxes and mailing them back to Tacoma.

So yeah. I'll be gone until Sunday night. I'm pretty sure nobody around here will be heartbroken at my absence, but I figured I should make an online announcement, because that seems to be the only reason to have one of these journals -- to impose my boring life on anyone who cares to read it.
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[06 Nov 2008|08:06pm]
[ mood | contemplative ]
[ music | Have You Ever Seen The Rain || Creedence Clearwater Revival ]

You know, I'm sure it's been said a million times by everyone who has one of these online journal things, and it's the popular thing to talk about... but I've gotta say something about the election.

I love voting. It's the third presidential election that I've been old enough to vote in, and it thrills me every time. Because even though I don't always like the outcome, and there's lots that goes into how which candidate wins which state -- I never feel disillusioned that my single vote doesn't count. I figure that if a state can be won by mere hundreds of votes, then I damned well better get to the polls.

A lot of Americans I know have an opinion about who won in the presidential and local elections. Me? Sure, I have an opinion. But the great thing about voting is that you don't have to talk about who you voted for. I will say that I feel that regardless of who you voted for, it's our duty as Americans to stand behind our president-elect and give him a chance. But then again, I also spent a good chunk of my morning watching mindless drivel on television about the hot-button debate -- about what kind of puppy the Obamalets are going to get.

That sounds like omelets.

Anyway. What I've been thinking about -- which has probably been influenced by the great puppy debate -- is mostly how the lives of those taking a new office will pretty much change overnight. I mean, they'll have to struggle to maintain a shred of the humanity they had before the election. They have to change. They'll rise into someone bigger than they ever were before. It's a lot of pressure to have on one person's shoulders.

I don't envy them. Not in a million years. Anyone is more qualified than I am to run our country.

But I've often wondered what it would be like to undergo a personal change like that. I don't think I've ever done anything worth mentioning.
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[27 Oct 2008|09:42am]
[ mood | annoyed ]

[Blocked from Jordan]
I haven't stayed the night at my apartment in a couple of weeks now. Since Jordan's come home, I've been at my parents' house in Tacoma, keeping an eye on things and helping them out. It's not like I'm babysitting her or anything, but I think it helps them to have me home as well. Because... Jordan is Jordan. Or, she used to be Jordan before New York ate her soul and spit her back out onto Washington. She's not the same, she's not happy like she used to be, and I'm fairly certain she's driving my parents insane. Because she's refusing to talk to them about why she wants to drop out of NYU. She doesn't even want to go back to New York to pack up her stuff and move out, and I don't know why. I'm in the dark, here.

She's not even looking at me like I'm her brother at the moment. She looks at me like I'm the prison warden, or like I'm Dad. I'm not entirely certain what I did to deserve that.

Are there any circumstances in which it isn't frowned upon to murder one's sister?
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[10 Oct 2008|09:19pm]
Who: Nolan and Hannah
What: Catching up over lunch
Where: random Italian restaurant
When: backdated to last Sunday
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[17 Sep 2008|03:13pm]
[ mood | curious ]
[ music | Here's Your Letter || Blink -182 ]

I talked with Jordan on the phone tonight, for the first time in years. I didn't know she still had my cell number. Actually, she's pretty lucky I even answered it. I usually ignore numbers that I don't recognize. Especially since telemarketers have somehow gotten ahold of cell phone numbers these days. Plus, there's plenty of idiots from my high school I'd rather not ever hear from again.

But, we talked about what she's been up to. She's in New York, in school for biology, which I knew. I knew that when she left. I think it's kind of ridiculous that she went all the way out there, when there's a ton of cool nature escapes around here to explore. But she needed to get away from this side of the world, go see things and put things into perspective. I guess I can't blame her for that.

I wonder what kind of perspective I could gain if I went somewhere else.

Heh, who am I kidding? The 'Stop would shut down if I wasn't there to beat down unruly teenagers. And the slurpee machine wouldn't clean itself. Good thing I'm not all that ambitious, or else that might discourage me.

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[02 Sep 2008|08:50pm]

So I was playing around over at Googlism.com, and I typed in my name. Got lots of interesting stuff... most of it couldn't be farther from the truth. Still, I got a kick out of it:

nolan is back with a vengeance
nolan is the director of education at the north carolina zoo
nolan is toilet trained at last
nolan is the world's biggest beatles fan
nolan is a miracle worker and we all love him
nolan is the illustrator of numerous picture books
nolan is not able to respond to electronic mail
nolan is so happy that he has a buddy
nolan is the prime suspect in father bellamy's murder
nolan is not a newcomer to vietnam war history
nolan is a warm and friendly presence
nolan is now officially in my good books
nolan is in charge of a full battalion
nolan is concerned
nolan is a man with a lack of judgement
nolan is cramming for the bar exam
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[28 Jul 2008|01:01am]
[ music | Hey Hey || Dispatch ]

Jesus Christ, I'm happier today than I've been in months. For absolutely no discernable reason at all.

Hmm, it's funny. I didn't even know that was possible.

You ever hear the story of Bobbie the Wonder Dog?

In 1923, while on a family road trip in Indiana, Bobbie—a two-year old Scotch Collie/English Shepherd mix—was separated from his owners and lost. After an exhaustive search the broken-hearted family returned to their home in Oregon never expecting to see their beloved dog again. Six months later, Bobbie appeared on their doorstep mangy and scrawny with feet worn to the bone; he showed all the signs of having walked the entire way back alone. During his ordeal he crossed 2,800 miles of plain, desert and mountains in the dead of winter to return home. After his return to Silverton, he experienced a meteoric rise to fame. He was the subject of newspaper articles including Ripley's Believe It or Not!, books and film. Bobbie gained fans throughout the world and earned himself the title of "Wonder Dog".

I don't think I could ever own a dog, but wouldn't it be cool to have one who'd be willing to walk almost 3,000 miles to be reunited with you?
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Convenience Store Olympics. [23 Jul 2008|01:14pm]
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[01 Jul 2008|11:16am]
[ music | Hey There, Delilah || Plain White Tees (Let's throw the radio out the window) ]

Some douchebag guy came into the store and remembered me, from high school.

He seemed to think I was the captain of the baseball team, and homecoming king.

He better keep his fucking mouth shut.

Human beings come up with the most idiotic things sometimes. I'm fairly certain he'd been drinking a 40 oz slurpee directly beforehand, so I'm doubtful he was even of sound mind.

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[20 May 2008|12:33am]

So, on my bedroom door I have one of those over-the-door organizers that have the hooks on them so you can hang stuff. I keep most of my hoodies and jackets on them. I also occasionally put a work shirt on a hanger on one of those hooks so it keeps them from getting wrinkled.

So today I go to pull down my brown hoodie from the hook, and it accidentally hits an empty hanger, knocking it off the hook. The hanger falls, hits me in the eye, knocks my contact out of my eye, then gets hooked and caught in my hair. So I'm standing here, with my sweatshirt on the floor, my contact on my shirt someplace, and a hanger attached to my head.

Sure sounds like the kind of day that makes you want to go out and face the world, hmm?
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[08 May 2008|09:08am]

In thirty years, you'd think I would have learned to do laundry properly. And yet, I have a loadful of white t-shirts and socks that are now light baby blue, thanks to... something I bought last week.

Could be worse, I guess. They could be pink.

There is a fourteen-year-old girl who comes into the store every day after school and buys fistfuls of beef jerky. She talks to me while she eats it, telling me some of the most asanine stories about her life. This week, she told me all about her nineteen-year-old, apparently cradle-robbing boyfriend, who wants to be a Navy Seal. What is it about me that seems to have hung a sign around my neck that says 'I care about your shit. I'm a nice, friendly guy?' So I stand there at the counter, flip through a magazine, and nod at what seems to be the right moments. And she's satisfied!

Whatever makes you happy, lady.
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[30 Apr 2008|10:40am]
[ mood | annoyed ]
[ music | One || U2 ]

Today, I don't feel like going in to the store. It's been ages since I've had a day off, so I think I'm going to call my boss and and call in dead. Just dealing with the average convenience store clientele makes me shudder. Well, it does in general, but I'm better at sucking it up than anything. 

But today? I don't want to fight off starvation by eating garbage. There's too many days that go by where I just nuke a frozen pizza (even though the pizza box explicity warns against this, I find they still taste the same -- maybe  just a bit chewier than a pizza should be, but still tasty, and still devoured in seconds). I don't feel like confiscating fake IDs when thirteen-year-olds come in to buy cigarettes.

I really just want to spend a nice, long day at home, doing nothing. Though announcing that I'll be home all day is practically like inviting Beckett over to bother me, so maybe I'll make myself scarce.
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the misfortune of bad timing. [16 Apr 2008|11:33pm]
[ mood | content ]

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profile. [30 Mar 2008|11:20pm]
( Steal me now and forever | I'll steal something good for you | The criminal in me is no one new )
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