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		<title>Life was good today. &lt;https://y.st./en/weblog/2017/03-March/25.xhtml&gt;</title>
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		<header>
			<h1>Life was good today.</h1>
			<p>Day 00749: Saturday, 2017 March 25</p>
		</header>
<section id="general">
	<h2>General news</h2>
	<p>
		Every night at close at my workplace, we throw out a lot of excess food we&apos;ve prepped.
		The problem is we keep too much ready, and we can&apos;t sell it all by the end of the night.
		On the rare occasion that we actually run out of food near the end of the night, we don&apos;t just make a little more to get us through &apos;til close, we make a bunch more.
		This is as our head manager instructs us; we&apos;re not the decision-makers, and on four out of seven days, the head manager is one of the closers, and is there to ensure it happens.
		The head manager might even be instructing us to do this because the store owner instructed <strong>*them*</strong> to make sure we did that, though I&apos;m not sure.
		In any case, I always feel bad about the waste, and one of my shift leaders in particular feels bad about the wasted chicken wings.
		They say a chicken died for nothing, not even getting eaten.
		Last night, I took nine orders of wings home with me.
		I don&apos;t eat meat, but I do live in an apartment complex.
		My plan was to in the morning, see if one of my neighbors wanted them.
		That was a mistake I won&apos;t be making again.
		First, my shift leader bagged them haphazardly.
		The containers were every which way instead of all right-side up.
		I thought nothing of it at the time.
		When I got them home, I stuck the whole bag in my refrigerator like that.
		By morning, the wings had dripped goo in my fridge, which I then had to clean up.
		The wings weren&apos;t gooey last night, but they&apos;re now covered in a gelatinous substance.
		I thought that condensation in the containers mixed with ... something ... in the flesh of the birds.
		I wasn&apos;t sure what this stuff was exactly, but it wasn&apos;t presentable, so I had to throw it all out anyway.
		So much for saving some food.
		I kind of wondered if the goo was the makings of gelatin, but the shift leader reminded me today at work that it was probably just chicken grease.
		I&apos;d forgotten how greasy chicken is.
		Even before I went vegan, I didn&apos;t really eat chicken, so I don&apos;t have any recent experience with the stuff.
	</p>
	<p>
		The Chase representative told me two envelopes would come in the mail, one for each credit card.
		They both arrived in the same envelope though.
		The instructions that arrived with the cards said to activate them on the Web.
		They didn&apos;t even mention a way to activate by telephone, which is what most card instructions I&apos;ve dealt with seem to require; I&apos;m happy already!
		I did hit a bit of a snag, as I tried to activate the card under my real name before the one under my birth name.
		The website asked for a Social Security number ... and that would&apos;ve been a problem.
		It turns out though that the website only allows activation by the account holder, not the card holder.
		Going through the activation process activated both cards at once.
		My one complaint is that they put my birth name&apos;s middle initial on the one card.
		I find use of middle initials to be a bit ... disrespectful.
		I mean, if you want to use a middle name, use it in full.
		If you can&apos;t even be bothered to put the full middle name, leave it out entirely.
		That won&apos;t be a problem once I get my name legally changed though.
		I&apos;ll no longer even have a middle name.
	</p>
	<p>
		The cards come with this deal that if I charge $500 <abbr title="United States Dollars">USD</abbr> to them in the first three months, the bank&apos;ll give me back $150 <abbr title="United States Dollars">USD</abbr> of that.
		At first, I planned to simply ignore that deal.
		I don&apos;t plan to go on a wild spending spree.
		However, I&apos;ve changed my mind.
		I&apos;ll charge things I normally would pay for in cash on the card, but still be buying what I&apos;d already have been buying.
		I&apos;m additionally going to buy some things I actually want, but&apos;ve been holding off on.
		I&apos;ll try to hit the $500 <abbr title="United States Dollars">USD</abbr> target, but I won&apos;t go out of my way to do so.
		If I don&apos;t spend that much, I don&apos;t spend that much.
		One of the first things I&apos;ll pay for on with the card is a domain name renewal; I&apos;d certainly be buying that eventually.
		Unfortunately, the local inexpensive grocery store, Winco, doesn&apos;t take credit cards.
		I won&apos;t be charging much food to the card.
	</p>
	<p>
		Speaking of cards, one of the customers I served at work today says I&apos;m their favorite till worker here.
		They wrote &quot;See IS&quot; on their card, and I actually card them every time.
		Too few of my coworkers do that; I&apos;ve been told I&apos;m the only one by another customer.
		The catch with me though is that you actually have to write &quot;See ID&quot;, &quot;Check ID&quot;, or the like for me to card you.
		If you write &quot;CID&quot;, as some morons do, you haven&apos;t provided me any instructions to follow.
		&quot;Cid&quot; is a human name; you&apos;ve simply signed your card in all caps under a name you probably don&apos;t identify as.
		I&apos;m starting to accept <abbr title="Short Message Service">SMS</abbr> speak in general conversation, but there&apos;s no excuse for it on something as formal as a credit card.
		Still, checking <abbr title="identification">ID</abbr> only with the cards with properly-written instructions to do so is clearly more than most people do.
		It&apos;s hard to complain about.
	</p>
	<p>
		My <a href="/a/canary.txt">canary</a> still sings the tune of freedom and transparency.
	</p>
</section>
<section id="dreams">
	<h2>Dream journal</h2>
	<p>
		I dreamed there was another world on the flip side of this one, a world os spirits and magic.
		I was a young, royal child there, though my family and I lived in an unfancy house that looked like all the others.
		I got ahold of the ingredients to mix a very special and forbidden dirt, one that would grant magical powers to those that came in contact with it.
		Before the events of the dream, I&apos;d mixed the ingredients into two separate buckets, forming two separate and inert dirts.
		I ran with my buckets out our back door at night, locking the back door behind me.
		Somehow, my parents struggled with the door once they realized what I was doing and tried to stop me.
		In a rush, I mixed the two dirts to form the magical dirt, and as soon as I noticed magical light comeing from my left hand, which I was using to mix the dirt, I smeared it all over my body as quickly as I could.
		I nearly forgot to smear it under my clothing, but I did manage to get every part of me before my parents opened the door.
		I asked for help from the person that taught me how to make the magic dirt, who was standing outside my house, and they teleported me away, though I&apos;d had to hurry with the dirt because that couldn&apos;t come with me for some reason.
	</p>
	<p>
		Once away, my teacher sought the spirit of another child, and I tagged along.
		This child, being in our world of spirits, had corporeal form here, and didn&apos;t actually know they were dead.
		However, their parents were abusive, and they needed to escape.
		My teacher freed them from the spirit world, taking them to the regular world in which they were dead, and again, I followed.
		This world looked mostly the same as the spirit world, which might explain why my royal parents didn&apos;t have a royal house; such a royal house wasn&apos;t present in the regular world, so it didn&apos;t seep through to the spirit world.
		Once in this world, it was explained that this other child had been dead for a while.
		The parents they knew in the spirit world weren&apos;t even real, and their real parents were alive.
		It was implied without words that the child&apos;s real parents might not actually be abusive, and the figments of the spirit world might not match the personalities of the real parents.
		There were two sets of footprints in the mud as the three of us walked: my teacher&apos;s and my own; neither of us were dead, we were just denizens of the spirit world.
	</p>
	<p>
		Flash forward in time, I was a bit older, living in the regular world.
		The magic dirt had granted me immeasurable power, but I needed magical energy to use any of it.
		I&apos;d have been a great sorcerer in the spirit world, filled with magic, but I&apos;d&apos;ve been persecuted there too.
		In the non-magical regular world, there was barely any magical energy in the air, and I struggled to control my powers by making efficient use of energy.
		So far, I could only manage a sort of teleportation in which my body turned to light and I left an after image, and very limited flight.
		However, I was living a mostly-normal life, and was very happy.
	</p>
</section>
<section id="university">
	<h2>University life</h2>
	<p>
		I should&apos;ve taken my final exam yesterday, but I just wasn&apos;t feeling it.
		If my payment isn&apos;t accepted in time, will it even matter if I took the exam?
		Will the course just be considered dropped?
		Once the issue is resolved, but not in time for next term, will my grade be reinstated?
		I did take the exam today though; it&apos;s due tomorrow.
	</p>
	<p>
		A bit after taking the exam, I received a letter form the school.
		The issue&apos;s been corrected!
		I no longer have to worry.
		Or at least, I no longer have to worry <strong>*for now*</strong>.
		Life is good again.
	</p>
</section>
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