Time Waster

Well, I told myself that I would not do this. That I would use my time wisely and read my SLS books as I should because I must read them and write the reports so that I can start studying for my CLEP exam, learn how to sew, teach my sister(s) how to write a good essay, watch, Wallace and Gromit, and work out consistently. Oh well. What is time? God will hold me accountable to how I have used my time. That is scary. Ahh! And yet I press on in my writing...rambling rather. I wanted to scribble about Target. AHEM...
Please bring a receipt. Don't wait for months and horde all the items you want to return. Smile when you walk in the door. Don't yell at the employees. We know nothing. Don't assume you know the system. Don't tell us how to do our jobs. Organize yourselves. If you say that you have the receipt, make sure that it's out by the time you come to the counter. Please! Don't spend hours poking through your purse and/or wallet and/or son's pants' pockets trying to locate the receipt you "just know" you had a "moment" ago. Don't lie about what you want to return and when you purchased it. Don't try and cheat us. Smile when you leave. Speak some words of encouragement. Don't let your kids pull the tags off clothes you might not be keeping. It's okay to teach them self-control and to limit their life pleasures a bit. Remember that we would like to keep you happy. We don't work at Target to displease you and mess up your own world and goals for life. We have families, hard days, and things we'd rather be doing than trying to make sure you don't yell at us. AHHHHHH!!!!!
The counter was SOO disorganized today. I am not an organized person in my personal life, at work, however; I am freakishly organized. If I can't stay tidy at work (which is often the case in Guest Service) I become extremely frustrated. I had to restrain myself from losing my patience with the guests today. This is the first time that I have wanted to lash out at the people just for walking through the door. Why? I have no idea. The Lord is trying to show me my sin in my lack of patience. Help me be patient Lord! You have given me the Holy Spirit who has given me His fruit and that is patience. I can love my guests too! (AHHHH!)

Why?

Why do I do--ooh bleck (had to change the font)--why do I create blogs? Yes, there is a "s" at the end of "blog," signifying multiple. I think I only had one other one. WHY though? Who cares? Who reads? Will I update? Probably not. At the moment it seems like a fun way to be able to express myself for all the world to see...but then I realize something, no one will see this. No one will know about this. Therefore, I can logically conclude that no one will read this. I think I have pen and paper blogs already. They are called my journals. Inside their covers I reveal who I am. I can be serious and cry, I can make jokes and laugh, I can be angry and scream. Out here, in the scary wide world of (in all reality, NO one's company) I can not be "real." I will be the public me. Then, that idea makes me wonder and question...will I ever be the private me with another person? (You---although you truly do not exist, I will still type to "you." You will be my blog friend...if ever I type on this blog again.) "You" see where my thoughts are going. And there I will stop....at where you might be able to guess and try to interpret where my thoughts are heading. Whenever I read someone's really wonderful writing (which I just have...let's applaud the talented Ms. Vaughan) I am inspired to be expressionful. (No, that is not a word. This is my blog...stop being so nit-picky. :0) Ugh! Enough of the smileys. Okay? Thanks. This is my way to be expressionful. In my journals I release my thoughts, fears, and hopes to the Lord...kind of to myself. Why do I need others to read my writing? I don't know. To show them that I know how to construct a sentence...ha...ha. So, there you have it. Welcome to my blog. If I come back, good. If not, don't feel pain. Not that you will feel pain because you do not exist. Those who feel pain are those who exist. You are not real, therefore you don't exist, therefore you have no concept of pain. How do I know this is true? I don't. I assume. (You know what that does.) I have never "not existed." Although, how can I know that I truly exist? How can I know that this IS reality? The video game characters might think their world is reality, but it's not. No matter how much we believe something, we might still be wrong. Why does pain have to be experienced only by those we classify as being in the realm of reality? Can you define reality for me? Who I say I am and where I exist (within the realm of reality) depends upon what I percieve from my senses. My senses orginating and forming from my reality tell me what the world (my reality) is and why it is real. "You" could make the same argument for your non-existance. Are we are just a bunch of halograms? What is more real than heaven? Nothing on earth is reality when compared to heaven...and hell...when compared to eternity. If you died NOW, at this very moment, who truly cares what you have done in your life EXCEPT in the areas that have affected your existance in your eternal life? I think that's all what Ecclesiastes is about. Perhaps I will come back here. I greatly enjoy rambling and discussing meaningless items of discussion with myself.