David’s Journal

Fuck Off.

At least, that’s what I feel like telling people sometimes.

Talk is cheap. No, talk is free.

It costs nothing. NOTHING.

Look, I already know I need to “trust in God.” No one needs to tell me to “hang in there.” I know. And I also know God’s got some big plan for my life — that’s what I meant when I said, “I must’ve come here for a reason” in my last blog. I know I’ve got a purpose. I know there’s a reason for my being here. I just don’t know what it is. So just saying I have some unknown purpose and expecting that to somehow make me feel better is completely useless and totally unhelpful.

Give me a clue!

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I’m doing a job I enjoy.

I just hope it will work.

I work as a courier now, picking up and delivering rush packages (usually escrow checks and real estate title documents) from one office to another throughout San Diego County.

I enjoy it.

I’m pretty free, I get fantastic views all day long, traffic is a breeze compared to what I was used to in Los Angeles… There’s a sense of adventure and exploration. But I get to see people too, say hello, put a smile on their face.

When I was hired, my new manager said the drivers were earning, on average, about $150 per day. We drive our own cars, pay for our own gas, etc. We’re on commission. We get 45% of whatever the company bills the client for the delivery. He also said that drivers do about 150 miles per day.

Well, I’ve been working for them for a week and a half now.

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