I find myself in something of a creative slump lately. Nevertheless, since I'm not quite ready to let this thing wither into oblivion, I'll attempt to plod on.

Tonight at the gas station, I took the closing shift for someone who was sick. (Thus netting myself a few extra hours.)

One of the customers who came in was a woman; short, blond, and... so thin it made me shudder. She was perhaps the most emaciated person I've ever seen first hand. Not attractive in the least (though she certainly had the potential to be, if given a few solid meals). I could see the bones in her arms sticking out, wrapped in layers of stretched skin. Her face was gaunt and hollow. Reminded me of those pictures of people in Africa, except she was white.

She bought a bottle of Mountain Dew, smiled in a friendly way, and seemed like a nice, kind person. I just couldn't get past the way she looked like she might break like a toothpick at any moment. I wanted to say, "Hey, let me buy you a loaf of bread." (Except the bread we sell there is crap, but anyway...) A combination of shyness, professional restraint, and not wanting to dive into things that are none of by business held me back.

I handed her the change, she smiled again (a sincere smile with a hint of sadness -- or was that my imagination?), said "thank you", picked up her bottle of soda, walked out the door, and drove into the night.

...

Gas prices, up again for the third time in the past 7 days.

Peak oil was declared old news some time ago by most of the alternative blogs I follow. It's filtered into the mainstream enough that many no longer even consider it worthy of debate. Yet if the customers who patronize the station are any indication, most Americans are still very much in the dark. They don't want to be awakened.

This is understandable. It's not as if most of the people who keep coming back to unhappily buy gas at ever-higher prices necessarily want to be driving around all the time. Everything in our system is built to be so hopelessly dependent on it that imagining any other way of life would be a big leap for most.

Anyway, enough of the obvious.

...

When I went to shop at Open Harvest today, I noticed a sign on the door stating that a part time position is open for a stocker. Ever since then, the thought of applying as been simmering at the back of my mind.

I theorize that since I'm now known by several of the people who run the store from my volunteering efforts, I'd have a much better shot at it than another random person. But the question that hasn't been answered conclusively: Do I even want that?

I like the little niche I've got going right now. I like being able to walk one block to work and back. For the most part, I like the not-quite-fulltime schedule. The gas station manager is awesome, easy-going, encouraging -- I don't think it would be an exaggeration to say I get along better with him than I ever have with any other employer. Bit by bit, I'm paying off the credit card debt that I accumulated during the months when no money was coming in.

I also like biking down to Open Harvest each week to volunteer.

The point is: Right now, my life has a sort of happy equilibrium, and I am very leery of upsetting it.

At the same time, I'm not so satisfied with the products by which I earn my livelihood. By that, I mean I don't feel like I'm doing much good in the world, or for humanity. Gasoline, cigarettes, beer, lottery tickets, and chemically preserved dead-food is not my idea of working toward a better world.

Obviously, I haven't come to any clear decision yet. I'm giving myself until Wednesday, when I next volunteer, to decide if I want to even try to apply.

Last week, Yanthor gave me a copy of the Dalai Lama's book, The Art of Happiness at Work. He had found it at a big discount, and got copies to give to several people he know who would find it interesting.

So far, having read the the first couple chapters, I've found the ideas therein to be wise and useful. I think I'll read more of it as I contemplate the choice ahead.

Also: More fun with Serenity. Sick of the constant problems, especially with the rear tire, I went to the bike store today and got new tubes. Thorn-resistant. Whether or not my previous problems were caused by thorns or something else, these have a much more durable feel.

I asked the owner if he might have anything that could patch my gear cable. (BTW, I guess a prior update on that is in order: Last Saturday, I figured out how to fix the twist shift mechanism, but in the process, the gear cable managed to tear right through the rubber coating, making it completely unable to shift.)

He came out and looked at it, and said that my gear cable needed new "housing", period. (This actually sounded reasonable, as my idea of patching it up with tape would have been a nasty hack at best, and a completely non-functional mess at worst.)

He measured my cable, cut a length of housing from his spool, and briefly talked me through the process of replacing it. I think I followed most of what he said, although certain aspects are a bit of a jumble.

I almost thought about asking him how much he would charge to just do it, but even if it wouldn't be too much money, how would I learn anything by that? My inner Kaylee would be deprived of a great opportunity.

So anyway, I have the parts. I'll be muddling through it, tomorrow perhaps. (Or not. Maybe I'll just keep noodling around town on what has effectively become a 3-speed until I work up the courage/energy to take on the challenge.)

Sleep calls now.