Scenes from a Wasted Life

Warning

2008-06-12T12:38:00.000-07:00

While you're reading this, someone you love is sneaking up behind you with a knife. Don't turn your head slowly like some idiot in a horror film.

Leap out of your chair. Now.

It's your only chance.

Stuck in a Boring Teleconference....

2008-05-06T08:24:00.000-07:00

Yeah, I know I said Sunday. Isn't it still Sunday?

No?

Hmm.

With work and life so many days just blur together, I'm never sure whether I'm coming or going. And I think my gas tank is starting to run a little dry.

I rarely take time to recharge myself... you know, just get into the quiet zone where you're doing your own thing and you just kind of coast for a bit?

Of course, with the corporate merger and my sudden work in software development and internet and automation coding (go history degree!), I'm just trying to stay afloat for now.

Of course, when I get free time, I always end up filling it at the behest of others. Saturday, I went out to celebrate the dual birthday of two friends. Everyone brought gifts, etc.

Every year, on this particular weekend (first weekend in May), it's a carnival of base humanity... It's like a yearly Bacchanal full of drinking and bad choices.

So, after a swell dinner of the finest sausage available at an out of the way german restaraunt (along with requisite liters of imported brews), we headed to an 80s night party at a bar just outside the main Twin Cities, complete with 80s rock cover band and 80c drink specials between 8-9.

For some reason, however, my buddies decided it would be fun to try to get me drunk. So they ordered me shots. I ordered all of them shots to match. Each time they would order one... I'd order 3 more. Of course, it being Shawn and Dave's birthday, that was ok enough I suppose. Considering that my birthday is 10 days before theirs and there's nary a mention of that.

So the evening wears on, everyone is singing along to Journey, and Ratt, and Poison cover tunes (among dozens of others), the bar is packed, etc. Kent (Dave's cousin) is getting hit on, Shawn is getting his ass grabbed by some pretty little girl and drug out on the dancefloor to bust his best move, and Dave is getting ground up against by this other girl, even when he's standing next to his wife!

Someday I think I'd like to be like everyone else. Or at least feel like I was just like everyone else.

I feel more and more isolated from the world at large, more and more out of step. And when I am singled out, it's never for a good reason.

The world seems to intrude on me when it wants something from me. And when it doesn't, it's like when I walk out to my car in the parking lot after work.

Invariably I end up walking behind others (hard not to when you leave at 4:30ish from a building with 10,000 people in it), and they get so uncomfortable in your presence they hasten their steps, they look uncomfortably behind them... like they're going to get mugged or raped.

Being tall is cool for reaching things on high shelves, no so much with the being unthreatening.

More and more I feel very alone.

And it's not because I don't see people. I just don't seem to be one of them.

Ladies and Gentlemen, We Take Pride in Presenting a Thoughtful Address By...

2008-05-01T23:07:00.000-07:00

When my brother died, I remember vividly holding on to the fact that Def Leppard was releasing a new album that summer... and all I had to do was last at least that long. I had been a fan so long, and there last album, Slang, while probably their best, was widely overlooked because it took a radical departure from their "sound". Since then, the band has been in something of a morass... the public wants something from them, their management want something else, and their record company wanted yet something else... And it showed in two albums that, while having some good music, were fairly devoid of honesty and passion.

From the title, you can see they stopped giving a toss what anyone thought of what they were doing. They all sat in a room together and worked on tunes they liked. It's about the emptiness of ambition, and how you have to be confident in yourself and do your thing and if people want on the bandwagon, great, if not... at least you're being true to yourself, and that, in itself, is it's own reward.

This is the album I've waited for from them for over a decade. I apologize because you probably won't like it (if you have sensitive hearing, give it a pass). I'm just trying to do my part as a fan to spread the word that they're back, to someone randomly searching.

Maybe as way of thanks for dropping a bright spot in my life every time I need it.

I'll make a real update on Sunday. No comments on this one because it's just for me to click on at work.

This is a truth that just
Has to be told and must
Be spread amongst us
So the world can hear it

We gotta get it right
This time if we just fight
Innocence dies tonight
If we can't heal it

We look to our leaders
But the lies they try to feed us
Like a knife they try to bleed us
And they cut us real slow

So go
Just go
Just go
You hide behind your mask of desperation
Go
Just go
Just go
I won't surrender to the next temptation

You have no dignity
I have no sympathy
You are my enemy
But I can't see you

No matter where you run
Thy kingdom will be done
A rocket to the sun
Is where I see you

When the senses get ecstatic
Overflow is automatic
Feel the need to feel erratic
Don't deny and let it all

Go
Just go
Just go
You hide behind your mask of desperation
Go
Just go
Just go
I won't surrender to this fake salvation

Still Alive

2008-04-24T08:10:00.000-07:00

I thought my mom was calling to wish me a happy birthday.

Turns out my cousin's husband committed suicide. Shot himself in the head. Alcohol and anti-depressants, the great combo platter that it is.

He had 4 kids.

I don't know whether to be shocked or pissed or sad.

Say something for me... for all the walls and hurdles, I haven't quit yet.

2008-04-21T11:38:00.000-07:00

It's funny and sad at the same time. I can't even count how many times I've begun, erased, and restarted this post.

Given so much time to wrestle with it, I think the problem is that I hate whining. I hate feeling like the only things I have to say are negative.

Of course, at the very moment I'm writing this (I'm retyping this into the editor from a handwritten legal pad), I'm sitting alone in a bar buying myself a birthday dinner. In the end, you have to go with what you got.

You know what honestly bothers me more than anything else? It shouldn't have been this way. This wasn't the path I was on, and I don't know exactly where I got derailed.

On my 30th birthday, my mom gave me a plastic box with most of my childhood in it; my first teddy bear, my school records, my art projects, and all the other collected detritus of my youth. While spring cleaning a bunch of things the other day (and finding stuff I could get rid of), I came again across all the historical evidence of me.

Within it, there is a smaller cardboard box, full of trophies, plaques and awards: Future Leaders of America, Promising New Writer, National Merit Finalist, speech medals; a slew of wood, metal, plastic, all seemingly saying "this person has talent", and might be something special. Copies of newspaper articles I wrote in college intriguing enough to be noticed and have professors dedicate class time to discuss them.

It wasn't so much about being seen or rewarded… but living up to what I thought I knew I could accomplish… fulfilling my purpose.

I think that sometimes when I say something to friends about how I'm frustrated they earn more with less education, I'm somehow suggesting that they either don't deserve it, or that I'm better than they are. Nothing could be farther from the truth… I'm jealous because I wish I was as valued as they are.

Especially now that things at work have been weird because of a merger. So we didn't get our reviews until just recently for last year. I got the top rating possible, and the biggest merit pay increase possible. Of course, the year was so good for the company that someone who has been at work less than half the year so far (and consider that carefully because it's the end of April), and had most of her responsibilities taken away because she was unable to handle them got the same raise and rating I did.

Talk about disturbing revelations.

Obviously, if you actually get promoted, it's a different can of worms. Which my direct manager told me explicitly was a function of luck and opportunity… you have to be the right person at the right time and place.

Which I suppose explains how someone who's been there less than half as long as me was able to get promoted before me… She was the right person in the right place at the right time. I don't fault her for her promotion… she deserves it and is a stellar employee and even better person. I grow frustrated that no matter how skilled or (in the words of my manager) how I'm one of the most talented people she's met… that it will never matter. Talent helps you keep the role you get the opportunity to fulfill… it doesn't give you the opportunity itself.

Which really sounds backwards considering I've been thrust into the role of a head honcho for a division of the world's largest news and information company regarding the implementation of new office software. Not to mention being one of the only people in our location who can develop solutions for it. Directors and vice-presidents sit in my cube and ask questions.

And I'm the equivalent of any other employee with a high-school diploma.

The truth is I think I have the right to be jealous.

Because it's April, look at it another way.

The 11th would have been my brother's birthday. He would have been 25 and in Iraq. He wanted to join the Army because he didn't like school all that much. And my dad was in the Air Force and a former police officer, so that probably got transmitted in the DNA.

Maybe that's why I get so wound up about soldiers and Iraq. Maybe he would have died anyway, but at least he would have done it doing something he believed in… helping someone other than himself… giving anything of himself for someone to have a better life, no matter the cost to himself. That was his specialness as a person… how much he could do for others.

People I knew tried to throw me a birthday party the night before his funeral on the 23rd. No one talked to me. They arranged the party because they felt they needed to do it for themselves to feel like they were contributing. It had nothing to do with me. It was about them feeling better about themselves. Look what we did for the sad guy!

When other people go to funerals, they get to decide how they want to grieve. My parents, the people who are supposed to care about me unconditionally made me speak when I wanted to help carry my brother. It kills me every April I didn't get to say goodbye how I wanted. How I had to speak because someone from the family had to, and I was the only one who couldn't refuse.

I miss having a brother and a best friend.

Maybe that's why I hate my birthday so badly now. It's a day for everyone to remind themselves how awesome they are for stooping to care about me. It reminds me how much they know and I don't.

I constantly have to listen to cries of friends and family that I don't call them or visit them enough. None of them will even call me for my damn birthday tomorrow, and I'm the bad guy for not following them around like a dog and calling on their schedule? Why do I have to be the one to apologize when they're calling me a shitty excuse for a human being, while they have no need to treat me with a minimal level of respect? It must be because I don't deserve respect.

It takes a real man to go to a woman's parents to say "I'd like to marry your daughter" and have them say you're not good enough for her, and let her say no, and keep caring for her and loving her anyway. Probably because they had a good reason. If I was a better person, I should have just said at that point, "No? Ok. Then I'll try to find someone who will."

Serena tried to destroy all of my friendships because I had to gall to care about her when all she wanted to do was prove she could have anyone at any time she wanted. Of course, if I had any sense of self, I'd have never thought of myself as special enough to not be treated exactly the same as everyone else she's ever done that too (and there's a history there).

Fuck, go back and read it. Kim and Serena decided what was going to happen with me when I went to grad school without ever taking the time to let me in on the secret. It didn't matter what I wanted… I'd just learn to live with it.

We all get rejected. We all suffer. I, however, harp on it.

Every year at this time, I end up reading a lot about Steve Clark. No one knows this, but one of the reasons I got into Def Leppard back in 6th grade was the mention near my birthday that it was his as well (April 23). Of course, all the fan sites I frequent mention his birthday and I go read some older interview.

By all accounts he was a gentle soul. He wasn't the world's most technically proficient player; he concentrated on the adage of one great note trumping 20 notes played in the same span… mood, tempo, orchestration.

In his genius he found loneliness, though. Their producer used the other guitarist more and more because when you're playing each note and reassembling it in a studio, you need technical mastery over tone and flow. He felt more and more like an outsider.

And because the recording process was so laborious, he found he had more and more time to himself. And he drank more and more. It seemed like his mates didn't need him, even though they tried to tell him every day how important he was. Reality wasn't matching up to what he was being told.

All he wanted was to write music, hang out, and get a pat on the back from his dad, to know someone he cared about was proud of him, and believed in the choices he made. He notoriously would flinch when asked for autographs because he felt he didn't deserve attention.

He was trying to fulfill his promise. He was trying to matter to the people he cared for by answering the call of his heart. He was trying to answer the demons in his head. When he couldn't, he drank himself to death because he had nothing else to live for, nothing left to fill his time. He felt like his guitar was his only friend.

I won't go that path… but I feel a kinship. When you see his picture, you notice two things right away… he looks so tired, and there's an unexplainable sadness.

But it made me realize… you know what the real crux of the matter is? I'm a doormat.

I had an opportunity to go back to school and maybe get a security clearance despite my diagnosis. I let people convince me it was too much of a risk… that even if it panned out, I'd end up alone on the East Coast. No one else would have risked it, so why should I? I'm not worth risking anything for.

I let other people tell me when it's ok to fight. When it's ok to feel something. When I should do this, should do that. Instead of just taking their opinion, I allow it to affect what I should be doing for myself. Because I've been taught they're worth more than me; and had it reinforced time and again. I never stand up for myself because everyone believes that when I succeed it diminishes everyone.

There are people that argue with me because they want to prove that I can't be right all the time. It doesn't matter if I'm actually right or not; people will take the side against mine just to try to "put me in my place".

I don't know why reminding me I'm not special is such a fun pastime.

I know I'm not perfect. I'm as flawed a human being as has ever been made. Be that as it may, I should have proved to someone, somewhere, sometime that I have value.

Bipolars tend to analyze. Let me rephrase that. OVERanalyze. Hell, cognitive behavioral therapy teaches us to strip down what we're feeling into its component pieces so that we can determine what's causing it (if anything other than bad body chemistry), so we can objectively see it, and deal with it.

Sitting here, I finally figured it out. I'm searching for some chemical reason to be depressed… to feel hopeless. I really am unhappy. And no matter what I do, I can't change it.

When I was running my hands through the few things that were left that made me feel good about myself, I found I missed being valued.

Which is a hard lesson while buying yourself a birthday dinner.

If I knew where I went wrong, or who I mistreated, I would go back and fix it.

Which also reminds me; I was going to do something nice for myself, but then I realized I need to save my dollars for taking out my friends for their birthday next weekend. Maybe we can hit the strip club again and I can pay someone to pretend to like me.

If you can't laugh at yourself, who can you laugh at?

I'm Updating

2008-04-17T14:01:00.000-07:00

I swear I'm working on an update...

It's just been really, really difficult this time around.

I Hate This

2008-02-19T09:12:00.000-08:00

I was going to log in and write this big long post about all my troubles and difficulties lately. It was kind of sad and melancoly, and all that jazz.

Then some ridiculous Kiwi (New Zealand) radio station leaked Def Leppard's upcoming single "Nine Lives".

It's kind of funny how something so small can make a heap of crap seem like gold.

I'm such a geek.

Media Darling

2008-01-22T13:14:00.000-08:00

(As a note, I don't expect people to hate me for my larger abscences, just that you'll get bored of waiting and move onto people who have more important and timely things to say.)

Anyway, today's issue of the moment is Diablo Cody. And no, I'm not dropping the name so that some Google search engine picks up on it, and drives traffic to the site because of her newfound fame. (Diablo Cody, Diablo Cody, Diablo Cody, Diablo Cody, ... is it working yet?)

All of the critics and media are fawning over this latest rags to riches story. Now, listen. I know people who know her in one of those Kevin Bacon-ish sort of ways, but I've never met her personally.

Even during her time in the seedy underbelly of cheap Twin Cities' strip clubs.

The problem I'm having is not that her fame and fortune and attention is not well-deserved, but that people in general are missing the point. The dialogue and voice of Juno and Diablo's blog, the Pussy Ranch, are, for better or worse, the same voice of most Twin Cities' blogs. Horrible self-deprecation and cynicism. Reserved fascination with why other people, less-reserved, do the things they do.

Don't believe me? See a Cohen Brothers film, or check the plethora of Minneapolis/St. Paul blogs.

I'm not saying her voice and outlook is not unique. Far from it. Her experiences and take on it is refreshing and lovely to see from those of us who share it.

The thing which she should most be recognized for is that larger than life personality she carries that allows her to share that view with the world. Hundreds of bloggers toil here, and the thing that sets her apart is less the way she projects her ideas, so much as what her ideas are and her ability to have them heard. A writer can write the most brilliant things in obscurity, but if they are never read, then it really defeats the point.

Every one of us strives, in some small way, to be heard. We don't all dream of the red carpet and the glamorous gowns. But we do wish that our ideas could make a difference... that for a shining moment, the things we find important connect with someone else on a visceral level.

Many of the Twin Cities blog writers, at least the attractive ones that is, congregate and share their ideas, both in online and real world activity... artists and thinkers tend to surround themselves with people who can inspire them to greater things. The unattractive of us sit at home drinking Guinness, watching Deadwood and wondering how such a violent, filthy, brilliant show is written mainly by women (not that they can't, but proliferation of the word 'cocksuker' just doesn't strike me as feminist critique of societal development).

I love her writing, but by the same token, I love the writing of the people she surrounds herself with. It's WHAT she writes, moreso than HOW she writes it, that resonates to me.

I'm rooting for Diablo because she found a way to get people to listen. The voice is less important than the message. She's a local heroine who made good, and yet really only wants what we all want... to be respected for the things that we are good at, and that we, as individuals, have to offer.

Everyone is going to hop on the bandwagon and blow hot air up her skirt, and that's cool. She definitely deserves accolades.

But I think she deserves it for a far, far different reason than this modern, consumerist, throw-away culture may ever actually give her credit for.

The Best Blog Post Written. Ever.

2008-01-09T14:02:00.001-08:00

I'll be honest. I've been having a terrible time of it lately. My mood swings are more and more terrible, and I've been spending alot more time alone lately than I probably should.

I can't control everything, and that's part of the lesson. Riding out when you can't and just keeping a level head... even if everything else isn't so level.

If, for some reason, you're still reading this, I couldn't help but log into blogger and share the following link.

It is, without a doubt, the absolute best blog post I have ever read. Not because of it's heavy emotional impact, though it's there.

Because of it's 100% rightness. I wish I could have half the clarity of Andrew Olmsted.

Rest in peace soldier.

http://www.andrewolmsted.com/

The Price

2007-12-23T23:47:00.000-08:00

I Know...

2007-12-21T12:01:00.000-08:00

That I tend to have a much different outlook on the Iraq "War" than most people that I meet and interact with. Although I'm socially very liberal (go ahead and marry a pie for all I care if that's what toots your horn), I'm fairly conservative in my foreign policy outlook.

Because I studied terrorism and political violence at a graduate level, and have seen the depraved depths a suicide bomber will go to, or for that matter, a government will perpetrate on it's citezenry, I tend to have a fairly black hat/white hat mentality when it comes to that.

What people do to themselves? Whatever. Should we help rather than harm when and where we can? You bet. Should all kids have health insurance? We're the richest country in the world... really. Should we sometimes have to resort to a big stick to get bad people to pay attention? Some people don't listen otherwise... it's why spanking does work with kids. :)

In any event, I am reminded often of why I feel the way I do.

Below, find an excerpt from a letter from an Iraqi mother to CNN (her son is the one that was brought to the US for surgery to help repair the severe burns he suffered in a suicide bombing):

I am laughing now listening to my son's cries and laughter as he plays. I gave up everything that is familiar to me for him. It's not that I miss the violence. Of course, I don't. But Iraq is still my country. No matter what, it's my country, my homeland. It's all that I know.

America is full of new things. Even the spoons are different, the toys. Everything is different, and it's something amazing. Iraq doesn't have these things.

I do often wonder: Why me, why my son? We are so lucky. I don't know why my son was chosen to have something so horrible happen to him, and I don't know why we were chosen to come here. I just thank God. The thing that surprised me the most was the people. I mean, there are American soldiers in Iraq that are being killed by Iraqis. And we look Iraqi. I would have expected people here to hate us, but we have seen nothing but kindness.

Even in the supermarket, one of the workers saw Youssif and gave him $5. He's a worker; he probably needs the money, but twice he gave Youssif $5. We have such support here. People stop us in the street, and they just want to pray for us. Once a couple on a bicycle stopped us and said, "Were you on CNN?" We said, "Yes." And they gestured that they would pray for us.

That's what our sons, daughters, brothers, sisters, mothers, and fathers volunteer for... to make a difference for someone. Look, the deal is that the argument whether or not the war is something we should be involved in is over. We are involved. We can argue and throw up signs for and against all we want... the reality is that we're there, and we're involved.

We should be concerned about whether there's something good that will come out of us being there... regardless of how we feel about the war itself.

We should be talking about why pallets of water that end up with one broken bottle are being dumped in their entirety and our soldiers are going without water. We get the luxury of sitting and home and thinking war is so horrible, though whenever you ask a soldier or a citizen they feel like what they're doing matters... except we keep telling them it doesn't.

I, for one, am proud of the new life built for this little boy. He couldn't get help from the Red Crescent, from the UN, from the Iraqi government. The war didn't burn him, another of his countrymen who want us gone so they can operate however they like and terrorize everyday people. Who was there to help him?

We all were.

That boy and that mother are so grateful. I am too.

Maybe the world isn't a safer place for America. But it's a safer place for Youssif and his mother. And that matters more to me.

Trapped (not in the closet)

2007-12-10T12:54:00.001-08:00

I wanted to talk more about the feeling of being trapped.

I think we all feel this from time to time, like your the stick on the water, going whever it goes... whether that's to a peaceful cove or over chaotic waterfalls.

One of the things I feel most trapped by is other people's expectations.

I had an hour long conversation with one of my sisters some time ago... "Why don't you call very often? Don't you care?" Thinking, as I do, of the least common denominator, I immediately counter that she never calls me... so whenever I call, it's of a greater frequency than she does.

However, because I've always got to be the one to bend, I ask her what her desires and needs are so that I can meet them. The truth is that relationships have to be both ways, or it's not really a relationship... you're not relating, you're expressing a habit.

I love my family, but I keep them at arm's length because of things like this. I'm always asked why I don't interact with the great sum of aunts and uncles... for goodness sakes, one of them is on a list to not receive medications anymore because she's an addict none of them can stand to be around, but instead of saying "no" and thinking they have value, they let her walk all over them because they feel trapped by the notion of "family"... regardless of whether or not she's a very good person.

We all feel trapped by something. And, we often-times seek it out. We want that great job that requires travel; we want those unbreakable connections with a romantic interest or a loving family.

The thing that makes it work is feeling like you could walk away if you wanted to.

Know why people commit suicide? It's not feeling depressed. It's not seeking to go out in a blaze of glory. It's feeling trapped, and there is no other way out. That nothing will ever change, and nothing you do can make a tiny difference.

I don't wear my seatbelt. It's a passive-aggressive middle finger to fate.... if I'm meant to be something, I'll make it where I'm going ok. If I don't, I wasn't supposed to be anything.

It's the feeling like I don't have the choice in it that drives me nuts.

We all love at least the illusion that we have the tiniest control, even over something small.

Why do you think Bonsai caught on?

Take away our illusion that we matter in our own lives?

Recipe for disaster.

Crappy

2007-12-07T13:23:00.000-08:00

Maybe it's because I just found out today that I have no options if I want to switch away from Comcast cable and internet. The company is one of the worst in the country... and yet... I have no alternatives.

What happened to monopolies being outlawed?

It's not a monopoly because I can move to a different city to be able to use a different service? That makes sense.

But you know what really chaps my hide? (And no it's not salsa made in NYC...)

Sometimes, especially on Friday, when I'm bored at work because I finish all my work early, I log onto Craigslist and read the Missed Connections and Women looking for Men entries. Many are fun, witty, depressing, or otherwise entertaining with the drama of everyday human life.

But you know what phrase I see most in the ads for men? Guesses? Job? Nope. Own place? Nope. Own car? Nope. Tall? Good guess, but not quite.

The winner is (and quoted from an actual entry):

"Healthy body/mind a must, no seriously depressed, mentally diseased please"

Funny how you can be perfect in every way but that... and no matter how mentally healthy you are (by actively caring for your illness), but it's always a deal breaker.

And yes, I know that anyone who thinks that way doesn't know better, blah blah blah.

It's like cruising through the men's ads for women and everyone of them asking everyone to be size 2 or less. Marilyn Monroe was a size 12 for goodness' sakes.

And people wonder why they end up lonely.

Or stuck with Comcast.

Finding Peace

2007-11-27T13:35:00.000-08:00

I realize I haven't updated again in some time.

I was working on a post (that may yet see the light of day, though in pieces) and then there was this whole holiday thing. But yesterday I found myself upset at what feels like a stupid reason.

One of my silly personal indulgences (of which there are many) is that I am the only person I know who owns a complete Quiet Riot discography. The two albums released in Japan before "Metal Health", the complete collection of recent releases that came into and went out of print so fast it would make your head spin. I enjoy that they have no pretensions... and it's straight ahead their intent to entertain you... nothing more, nothing less.

Kevin DuBrow, the human growl of a lead vocalist for the band, was found dead in his home on Sunday. Alot of news stories have gotten numerous aspects of his career wrong, having copied and stolen from other online databases so far out of date they're frankly embarrassing.

Most, of course, are focusing on his contribution to rock music by pointing out the obvious trivia about their first American release being the first "metal" (however you want to define that) album to reach #1 on the pop charts. After that, because they had opened this huge door, many other acts were seen as viable business propositions... of course, being first left QR with a really crappy record contract comparatively speaking. Complete eldest child syndrome... the rules are stricter and harsher for you, but once you've made it through ok, it's looser for your younger brethren.

Kevin made a huge mistake in saying that out loud though. We hate it when people we see as lucky complain about their situation... whether they're right or wrong. Because it seems ungrateful. He aliented fans and bandmates, and was branded as a difficult asshole only concerned with himself.

In the end, he worked tirelessly for years trying to make a career doing what he loved (entertaining) because it fulfilled him.

And people hated him until he died. Now the tributes are all saying what he was responsible for, and lauding his enduring contribution to music.

How many people own A Quiet Riot CD, let alone, more than one do you suppose?

What gets to me is the platitudes. While deserved, they ring hollow. Kevin got sober and gave his life over to admitting his mistakes, and trying to correct them. He never decried his past... he revelled in what little contribution he was able to make because it was so central to him.

He busted his ass to make amends, to make things right he had done wrong. To take care of his friends, fans, and family.

He'll be remembered for singing a Slade cover song, and that's almost a shame because the better part of the man that died was someone who did the right things because they were right... not because they were easy.

When Def Leppard's original guitarist, steve Clark, died in 1991, he was trying to hide from mounting pressure from everyone else who thought him a quiet genius, always demanding his next brilliance. When his own father was never proud of even the smallest, human accomplishment.

This weekend, my sister very plainly told all of us that she had no need for friends because of the drama.

That saddened me. Without others in our lives, what are we?

Burdened with "what ifs" about your best friend who had to leave your band to join Ozzy because you weren't going anywhere? Smashing your hand on the sink before a show so you wouldn't have to go on and disappoint everyone?

I was upset because I feel that way sometimes... Do you know how often I hear "You're so smart, or so good, you should be able to do better"? I can't. Because it's not just up to me.

Listen. Quiet Riot's "Metal Health" was the first "metal" album to be #1 simply because Def Leppard's "Pyromania" had been held off the top by "Thriller" all year long until that fall, and everyone had both both records already by the time Quiet Riot hit the scene. "Pyromania" sold twice as many records, had more hits on it, and is widely regarded as one of the best albums ever made. But "Metal Health" was first.

Sometimes luck steps in... to help or hinder. Sometimes accomplishments are matters of time and place. No matter how good anybody is, if they don't get a break, no one will ever know.

It comes from wanting to see someone succeed... from wanting to cheer someone on.

Sometimes, I think we just forget the fragile human being behind the hype.

It's like being trapped. And you never can meet anyone's expectations until you're gone and they suddenly realize what they missed.

Quiet Riot, Thunderbird

(It's a common misconception that Kevin wrote this song about Randy Rhoads' death... it's about Randy leaving the band, and he was originally supposed to come back and do the guitars for it before his untimely death.)

Hello you
Yes it's me
You can't come back
You're flyin' free
You think you've found
Everything that you need

Fly away, fly away
To your new home
Across the seas
Leave your nest
Oh baby leave the best thing
That you've been
Whoa, whoa, whoa

Fly on, Thunderbird fly
Fly on, spread your wings to the sky
Fly on, Thunderbird fly

On your own
And I'm alone
In the shadow
Of what we've done
And I can't help but think
That someday
You'll be back home (whoa)

Fly away, fly away
To your new home
Across the bay
And give your best
Ooh baby leave the best thing
That you've been
Oh, oh, oh

Fly on, Thunderbird fly
Fly on, spread your wings to the sky
Fly on, Thunderbird fly (fly on)

When all is said
All is done
Still I live
And carry on
Don't look back
But think of me
We'll meet again
Fly away (oh)

Fly on, Thunderbird fly
Fly on, spread your wings to the sky
Fly on, Thunderbird fly

Fly on, Thunderbird fly
You've got to fly away
Fly on, spread your wings to the sky
On to the sky
Fly on Thunderbird...
Fly!

It's That Time of Year Again....

2007-10-31T07:33:00.001-07:00

Time for the yearly viewing... Happy Halloween everybody!

Hallow Humor

2007-10-30T07:41:00.001-07:00

Trick or Treaters

AND

Strip Club Patrons

People trying to get their hands on Candy.

Browbeaten

2007-10-26T09:57:00.000-07:00

I've been browbeaten into turning comments back on.

"You're not smart. You're not a scientist. You're not a doctor. You're not even a full time employee. Where did your life go so wrong?" -- the Computer to you in the game Portal

Can I take a lunch break today? Please?

2007-10-20T10:16:00.000-07:00

There's nothing like a trail of blood, to find your way back home. -- Nikki Sixx, Motley Crue

That's what it's been like. And it shows no signs of slowing down.

Just after my last post, where one of my dearest friends lost her fourth chance at being a mom (her only dream), I had another dear friend's wife rushed to the hospital. Something about the way her baby was developing was posing a risk to both her and the baby.

So, baby Marin Emma was born at 3 pounds, 14 1/2 oz, and both stayed at the hospital for quite some time, Marin in an incubator.

While I was trying to be helpful and supportive of Dave and Kyra and help them out (they hadn't even bought much for the baby because she arrived so early), one of my friends responded to me missing a spontaneous dinner.

I had previously made plans to play a game with some friends more than a week in advance. He appeared to be ticked that I didn't drop the other friends for a spontaneous dinner, with everything else going on, I didn't want to be away from home in an emergency, and I didn't want to bail on plans. So he sniped at not only me, but others in a response to an otherwise innocuous email sent.

He called me a loser, and said I cared more about the game than my friends... that I was less at life than he was.

That even after scouring garage sales for things for their new baby they couldn't find and helping him build sheds and redo rooms in his house, I wasn't doing enough to for him. The stereo he promised to help install in a car, still in a hall closet... the weekends he couldn't do anything because he was at an auction or out at the airfields running r/c planes.

The funny thing, though, is that none of that actually bothered me so much. Sure, I was taken aback, but... I guess the thing that really said something was that I knew something else was bothering him. But even after everything that went on with me and Serena and Kim, and my mental health, and how much I talked to him, he couldn't approach me and talk to me like an adult about whatever it is that was really bothering him.

I won't even go into work right now, though suffice it to say if you note the time I'm posting this (on a Saturday around noon my time), just know that I'm at work, and have been 3 of the past 4 Saturdays. I do the work of a network admin for half the pay.

My dad was almost hospitalized for his diabetes until he quit his job and reduced his stress. The place my mom works is closing, and she's driving an hour and a half each way to help the business close another location just so she can have income for a few more months. I have another friend that has basically barricaded himself in his condo and refuses to come out, no matter how many times we try and spend time with him.

Then, just a few days ago, I got a letter from one of my blogger friends email accounts. It seems Nadia tried to commit suicide, and she was a coma. My heart broke for her babies and her husband. The disease got to much for her. Thank whatever fate she's awake again, with no seeming damage, other than the possibility of hating herself so much for what she's done (and we've all been there, so don't even look at me like that).

No matter the treatment, no matter what you do, sometimes it still wins. We can be better, but never 100% better.

Pray for Nadia.

You know what they say about stress and mental illness, right?

The worst part seems to be that I can't seem to get any time to catch a breath or recharge my batteries. I take pride in being there for people, but I'm worn out. I don't get anytime where there isn't someone always around me, someone who needs me. It's like having to leaving your flashlight on... sure it's helpful, but as the batteries go out, the light gets dimmer and isn't as helpful. At least until you pull the batteries out and zap em back to full strength.

When people tell you stories, they tend to talk about themselves as either the hero or the villian.

Everything is done to them (they have no responsibility) or they are the do gooder who does no wrong. I've tried my hardest in this journal to try to be objective... to try to show my own mistakes as well as those of others, as well as those of the environment/situation.

You show what kind of person you are by how you deal with what is thrown your way... how deep your reserves are when you don't get a break.

I'm going to go help my buddy get drunk. He's had the worse luck in online dating so far. The first girl who he actually was seeing for awhile disappeared in the Peace Corps to Africa... (why would you have a personal ad up, adn date a guy for 6 months knowing you were going to ditch him for Africa and not say anything until 2 or 3 weeks before you left?).

The next one he dated for about 3 months and was starting to introduce her to family. When they walked into a bar to meet his brother and sister, she turned to him and said "Who is that gook with the cute white guy sitting over there?"

Shawn's sister was adopted from Korea.

He's down in the dumps and we're going to go out, and I'm going to drink with him, and wing man for him. And we'll be blitzed and have no idea of what's going on. And if he wants to see strippers that's what we'll do.

I better throw on that smile I keep in my jacket pocket. The world is what you make of it this moment. Shawn needs me today, so he gets the best of me today. I may miss out on something for him next week, so I have to make today the best I can for him.

You can’t quit until you try
You can’t live until you die
You can’t learn to tell the truth
Until you learn to lie

You can’t breathe until you choke
You gotta laugh when you’re the joke
There’s nothing like a funeral to make you feel alive

--- Nikki Sixx

---------------------

The Show Must Go On, Queen
(vocals in one take by a man who would die 6 weeks later)

Empty spaces - what are we living for?
Abandoned places - I guess we know the score..
On and on!
Does anybody know what we are looking for?

Another hero - another mindless crime.
Behind the curtain, in the pantomime.
Hold the line!
Does anybody want to take it anymore?
The Show must go on!
The Show must go on!
Inside my heart is breaking,
My make-up may be flaking,
But my smile, still, stays on!

Whatever happens, I'll leave it all to chance.
Another heartache - another failed romance.
On and on!
Does anybody know what we are living for?
I guess i'm learning
I must be warmer now..
I'll soon be turning round the corner now.
Outside the dawn is breaking,
But inside in the dark I'm aching to be free!

The Show must go on!
The Show must go on! Yeah!
Ooh! Inside my heart is breaking!
My make-up may be flaking!
But my smile, still, stays on!
Yeah! oh oh oh

My soul is painted like the wings of butterflies,
Fairy tales of yesterday, will grow but never die,
I can fly, my friends!

The Show must go on! Yeah!
The Show must go on!
I'll face it with a grin!
I'm never giving in!
On with the show!

I'll top the bill!
I'll overkill!
I have to find the will to carry on!
On with the,
On with the show!

The Show must go on.

Raw Deal

2007-09-11T08:04:00.000-07:00

I just got off the second worst phone call of my life.

One of my dearest friends, who was unable to have a child of her own (three died in utero), and who had just been buoyed with news that she could adopt, found out that the child died in childbirth last night.

She blames herself because every time she gets involved with a child, they never even get to be born. And I don't even know what to say. I've continually struggled through the worst things life has to offer, but nothing, NOTHING that bad.

I don't have the words to tell her it will be OK, because it won't any more.

I have another good friend who just got out of the hospital after having a child. The baby is still in intensive care, and the prognosis is sketchy at best.

The truth of this life is that some people get raw deals. Some people suffer so that others can be lucky. Some people get all the breaks, and some get broken.

If you've been lucky, thank someone who's suffered.

I Put the Fist in Pacifist

2007-09-05T08:49:00.000-07:00

I should be posting my last day in Vegas, but I just don't have the heart to do so right now.

I'm tired.

I was at work for 12 hours yesterday. After part of an afternoon on Saturday. Fixing what amounted to a server crash. Tens of thousands of employees depend on many of the tools available as web applications in order to actually accomplish their work. And because my co-web manager is out, it was up to me to fix.

It's working now, but I didn't know I was some sort of network administrator. I'm certainly not paid to be one.

See, there's two things about this that really bother me... one, I found out the other day just how far behind my friends in earnings I am... and I really felt inadequate because no matter what I do, I'll never earn what they do. And it's not that their degrees are better (or if they even have one beyond high school), it's that they've been lucky enough to land in good situations.

I'm glad for them, but it definitely leads me to believe that I'm doing something wrong.

And second, that I missed a hastily thrown together party for a friend who flys home from Japan once a year or so because I was at work.

Regardless that he was here yesterday, on a holiday; regardless that this get-together was basically unplanned until late yesterday, and regardless that I got an invitation through word of mouth at 6 pm last night...

I'm the bad guy for not showing up because it was important because it's the only time he's here.

And I feel guilty enough about it, especially given my presence at a technical job I wasn't hired to do, and am not paid to do. And the fact that Dale's mom died, leaving me alone to handle it.

But it's my fault. It's always my damn fault.

I was just bitched at because I couldn't attend a camping trip this weekend because I had other plans with other people well in advance. Called a liar because the inviters wanted to feel slighted... that I was abandoning them for something they didn't see as important.

What are people going to do when I have to take a second job to make ends meet? Because I didn't land in a good situation?

One of the ways that mental issues can be kept under control is by keeping yourself busy. When you're busy, you're concentrating on so many things, your mind doesn't have time to fly off too far up or down... it doesn't have the time.

I could tell you a million sad stories about the way my life has gone. How about the one where my natural father gave up any visitation rights to his kids for my mother's half-interest in his fucking car?

I have struggled and struggled my entire life. Everything has to be an uphill battle.

I have groups of friends tugging me in 8 directions, along with all of life's other pressures, not to mention my mental illness, and family issues, my inability to update my blog as regularly... And I can't make a single one of them happy.

Regardless of how hard I try, how much I am able to do, how I try to juggle and give a little something to everyone rather than nothing to alot of people, and a bunch to a select few... it doesn't seem to work.

I can't get anyone to respect me. Not married, shit job, disappointment to friends and parents. It's no wonder people have midlife crises.

The worst part is that I used to be a fighter. This ever burgeoning mountain used to kick my fight reflex into high gear and I'd try even harder. But I'm out of gas.

Every time I've tried to make a substantial change in my life... I've failed. I'm in the same situation I was in 10 years ago, and the same situation I'll be in 10 years from now. I'll keep failing everyone and everything until I just get tired of it and stop even trying.

I always just wanted to be someone other people felt proud to know. I guess, until I actually do something successfully, I'll never really know. And today, my dear readers, that seems alot less likely to me than it ever has.

Because I just stopped fighting. If I can't succeed or at least make some sort of difference in my own life or the lives of others, why waste the energy? I have so little energy as it is.

Maybe I just need to pick better battles.

Las Vegas the Sequel 2

2007-08-27T08:21:00.000-07:00

On the morning of day 2, I was rudely awoken at 8:30 by the alarm on a cell phone. That is to say, the cell phone alarm that was left on OUTDOOR setting. That shrill blare left me really, really groggy, and stuck awake for the rest of the day.

For some reason, this time in Vegas, the 2 hour time difference made more of an impact on me than it had the previous trip. I think that because this time, I was working and on something of a schedule. When you're unemployed, time really has little actual meaning... when you have to be in and out at certain times, and such, it's alot harder.

Moral of the story so far? If you're going to travel some distance, quit your job first. :)

We gathered up and went over to the Imperial Palace for their breakfast buffet. It's cheap and serviceable, but their coffee just sucks. It's one of those things that's important because it's tradition for us to eat breakfast there, more than it being worthwhile.

After breakfast, we began our search for show tickets for the night. Also tradition is to catch some sort of "adult" revue. In Vegas, the topless bit is the added bit of extra attraction to the show itself, rather than being the primary selling point. It's like the nude Cirque du Soleil show, Zumanity. You don't go to see the bits and pieces, but if you get a gratuitous thrill, and it's the added incentive to get you to see that show instead of another... well, then that's all good.

Consider it marketing and competition rather than tawdry. Well, for the most part anyway...

Dave was obsessed with the idea of seeing Fantasy, considered the best show of its kind in Vegas (you may remember my experience from "Bite" last year). I joked with Dave that it was a "couples" show, and it would be unseemly for a group of guys to be seen there. In truth, it's just more of an all-round show with the girls singing themselves, and comedy and such, so it's more amenable to couples than bachelor parties... but it made a great running joke for most of the weekend.

Fantasy plays at the Luxor, the giant black pyramid on the end of the strip closest to the airport, so we braved the heat of the day (it was just after the western heat wave broke, and temps were down in the manageable high 90s/low 100s) and shuttle-trained our way out.

We burned time until about 1ish doing absolutely nothing. Then, we got scammed out of almost $10 for a fast food lunch in the Luxor food court. I love being a tourist. By then, one of our group who had waited at the half-price ticket Coke Bottle got us tickets for the show. He showed up and we exchanged the vouchers for the tickets and went on with our day.

Even in the heat, we walked back. It didn't seem to be as long a distance as it really was. In the hot, sticky weather (a rain storm was predicted for later) it was a miserable sojourn.

Except for Dave's cousin Kent getting goosed on the street. And when he turned around, the gooser sang out the 60's Batman theme. Duh duh duh duh Batman! (Kent WAS wearing a Batman shirt, so I guess he was asking for it...)

We all got back to the hotel without further incident and showered and refreshed ourselves for the evening.

(OK, I'm going to be honest. My notes kind of stop here for Day 2 and all I have is "Ugly" in all caps circled, and Fantasy written after it. I'm going to do my best here, but it might be sketchy...)

Deciding that dinner would be a good idea, we went to the new Planet Hollywood for a gourmet dinner in one of their restaurants. I had a pretty spectacular Pasta Carbonara dish (think pasta, cream, and bacon). Before and after dinner, as folks were getting themselves situated, a few of us had some mixed drinks from the separated bar.

The bar had these really low chairs that had the effect of putting the barely-covered waitresses' bottoms right in your face. And let's be direct here... when I say barely covered, I mean, barely covered.

It didn't help that Shawn was sitting across from me, and kept ordering top Shelf Grey Goose, so she'd bend over him (for the upper half show) to deliver his order. And, we tend to be very good tippers, so she kept coming back.

It was difficult, let me tell you. Women are truly nature's masterpiece.

Afterwards, I had to run back to the Flamingo because I was getting a headache and didn't want to poop out on the party early. I offered to meet everyone over at Coyote Ugly, our new haunt in Vegas. After getting about 4 advil in me (I'm a big guy, so it seems to take more to work right -- this is important in a bit), I rushed to the monorail station and rode it down to the MGM Grand, across the street from New York, New York and my destination.

I decided to take a calculated risk. The MGM Grand is notorious as the hardest casino to get out of once you're in it. As I noted last year, many casinos are designed to keep you walking back by the slot machines... kind of like how important things in retail stores are at the back; hoping to get you to stop and look on the way. We had found a shortcut from the monorail station to the front door, and I thought it would be faster to take it.

It was closed off with construction tape. Even though we had used it earlier in the day on our way to the Luxor. Like I said. Risk.

One of the other problems with getting anywhere fast in a tourist town like Vegas is that everyone is walking super slowly to take in all the lights and sounds. There's so much, it can be overwhelming. Needless to say, I knew where I wanted to go... it's just that the huge crowds of tourists (because it was still technically the weekend) didn't.

But the strangest thing happened on my one man steeplechase through the casino... They pipe in music for people to listen to. My luck was that Def Leppard was playing somewhere in Vegas in the next couple of weeks, so they were trying to hype the show.

They were playing Pour Some Sugar on Me through the casino PA. And you know what's strange? That's not the weirdest part.

People at the tables were singing along. It was a giant fun-fest. I've never seen or heard anything quite like it.

I did eventually get to the front, and beat the rest of the guys to Coyote Ugly. They stopped in Jason's room at Planet Hollywood and discussed the fact that Rambo's arrow was on the wall. (I'm not even going to try to explain that one if you don't already know what I'm talking about...)

Now, as I told the guys, all it takes is one single asshole to order the first round of shots, and then everyone feels obligated to return the favor. All 6 other guys in the group.

That asshole was me.

Call me an instigator. It'd be true.

So, with hard rock, including a stellar choice we made on the jukebox to play AC/DC's "Have A Drink on Me" for the bar, we bought shots and had a good time getting fairly buzzed (and I'll say that, because that's all it really was at this point). I didn't get sprayed with water, but the bar was packed and everyone was having a great time.

As I noted last year, ladies get free shots. It's very clever, because when you girls are having a good time... everyone's having a good time.

We were only able to be there for a couple hours, but 5 shots down (and 2 beers, and an extra shot for Dave and I who did it to call the other guys wimps... I know, guy thing), we were feeling good.

We were a raucous crowd when we arrived at the Luxor for Fantasy. We had a bit before the show, so some of us could "break the seal", a prime component of heavy drinking. Anyway, this group of late 30s/early 40s women there for one of their birthday parties approached our group. They were completely wasted.

They wanted to feel our hands. They had some sort of bet going, which none of us quite understood. And I doubt we would have even if we hadn't been drinking ourselves.

And we had another shot right about now because everyone still hadn't purchased their rounds.

Anyway, it turns out I have the softest hands "ever". The birthday girl, who I can't for the life of me remember her name, though I think they were from New Jersey, had to ask what we all did for a living, because we all had soft hands.

And mine were the least manly. Sigh.

They eventually went on their way with apologies for holding us up, and we proceeded into the theater.

With another mixed drink in each of our hands. Buzzing muchly, the show was completely satisfying. I can see why they say it's better for couples, as it was meant to be more "mainstream", and the breaks between dance numbers were filled with a comedian who was pretty funny.

Afterwards, most of the guys waited in line to buy a $15 calendar and get it signed by the dancers. (Of course, in the light of the next day, they were all kind of questioning their purchase considering Dave and Kent had no option of even putting theirs up because of wives/workplace issues and beyond that, it was already July... so they paid $15 for 6 months of calendar).

So... buzzed, eyes full of half-naked girls, we had to decide what to do next.

Back to the Ugly for more drinking it was.

The show let out at around 11. We closed down the Ugly sometime around 2:30. My memories are hazy because we went through another round of shots (at this point, probably 3/4 of them contained Jagermeister). I couldn't tell you how many I had... suffice it to say, it was probably close to 15 shots that night.

During our second stay, it was pretty much just loose drinking, hanging with other tourists, and for some reason, being stalked by these German girls. I've never been so glad to be as unattractive as I am.

Maybe it's a personality thing, an aura thing, a wrong type of soap in the shower thing... but it kept me in good stead because these German girls, who numbered a half-dozen, were all over the other 6 guys in my party.

What did I tell you about free shots and the ladies?

Luckily, the bar closed up and everyone was ushered out. Although the German girls lost us when we took a taxi, they followed us wherever we stumbled until we could get outside. Remember that bit about confusing casinos? Bastards.

Anyway, the number of people in a cab is limited in Vegas, so, as the most sober of our party (ie, the only one who could see straight, walk striaght, and count money), I arranged for a cab for four of us back the flamingo. The two of our party staying at Planet Hollywood took their own cab, and poor Kent, he of the Valium and never drinking, decided to hit up Denny's with this guy named Jay from NY he met in the Ugly.

Once in the cab, Dave was nearly unconscious, and Shawn was completely out of it. He started asking the cab driver what his name was. Unable to hear him, and any of us at that point being unable to read his license stuck to the dashboard, Shawn blurts out, "Equinox?" He thought for a moment. "I'm sorry."

"So did you guys have a good time tonight?"

"Yeah."

I can only imagine what cabbies in Vegas have to put up with every night.

I paid the guy and made sure Darin, Dave, and Shawn made it to their rooms and then collapsed in my own bed. Before falling asleep, I had the weirdest thought:

It never rained. That would have been cool.

I Hate Every Bone in Your Body But Mine

2007-08-23T10:51:00.000-07:00

So, my notes for Las Vegas day 2 were accidentally left at home, along with starting the dishwasher before I left since I was in a hurry because I was running late.

I have to stop reading the books I'm reading. :)

And believe me, without my notes, my second day in Vegas is a blur. A completely, ridiculous, immature jagermeister-influenced blur. Which is why I wrote it down... but that doesn't help me now.

So, I figured I'd throw out one of the other two ideas I had for posts to entertain you until I re-procure my notes. Especially since I'm so bored with the project I'm doing at work (necessary and I'm kicking its ass, but boring all the same) that a 15 minute foray into my weird mental landscapes would serve to at least recharge my batteries.

The other night, I watched "The Pickup Artist" on Vh1. A writer, and former nerd himself, calling himself Mystery, attempts to teach the secrets of picking up girls to a host of guys who aren't proficient in the art of, well, picking up girls.

On one hand, it's kind of intriguing. For one lesson the students have to learn to be interesting in their stories by talking to elementary-aged girls.

On the other...

Let me apologize to all women who have to go through being picked up. What a silly thing to have to subject yourself to in order to find a mate. I'm so ridiculously sorry about what it's like to go to a bar with your firends for you, it pains me deeply.

Let me share some terminology for you. When you go into a place, you select targets. In order to attract the initial attention of the target, you must be able to open a set. The most important opening to a set is to tell a story through use of the DHV technique. You must only select the emotional high points of the story to generate interest, while at the same time, demonstrating higher value. All the while, you must realize that you have to Neg the target. Subtly give her signals that you're not a potential suitor in order to put her at ease. Turn away; constantly mention other friends and options. Make her come to you because you're a high value prospect, and you don't need her.

Though careful use of gambits, you can guage her interest, and slowly move the conversation from meeting to mating.

The next episode moves into how to broach the beginnings of physical interactions (namely kissing you pervs) though the use of these techniques.

I'm sorry that you have to put up with this. Really I am.

But I have to admit... this stuff works. Honest to whatever higher power you believe in.

Just like that cologne in Anchorman. 60% of the time, it works every time.

There's something in us bred for certain kinds of responses to certain things. At base, we'd all like to think we're more intelligent and capable of choice in situations. But we're not. Not at all. And it is fascinating to see.

Next time we're out at a bar, I'll show you a gambit. And you'll be embarrassed.

But even moreso, so will I. :)

Continuing

2007-08-22T14:26:00.000-07:00

Update coming and Las Vegas stories to finish. Unfortunately, someone hacked my Ebay account through the email address attached to it, and started trying to scam people.

Needless to say, making it right is not easy and I've been fighting with it a couple of days. I think I have everything worked out as of this afternoon, but as soon as I say that, I'm sure something else will crop up.

If not, expect more hilarity to ensure tomorrow.

Spamalot

2007-08-09T07:39:00.001-07:00

I was there.

It was brilliant.

The audience sang "Always Look on the Bright Side of Life" with the cast at the end of the show.

Money well spent.

I35W Bridge Collapse Part 2

2007-08-02T07:49:00.000-07:00

More thoughts as they come:

First, it's utterly bizarre to surf through a normal littany of Twin Cities blogs and not only share the stories of yesterday's tragedy, but to see just how every major news source has taken on this story.

Blogs were becoming popular ways for news outlets to share the views of "everyday" people, but it's odd to see interview requests posted on blogs with eyewitness accounts from news outlets when everyone else who's read those blogs and knows their owner is simply hoping to find out that their friend is ok.

Second, the eeriest image from the tragedy so far was the sight of all the automatic headlights coming on as night fell.

I35W Bridge Collapse

2007-08-01T20:46:00.000-07:00

It's late now, and what was a rescue effort has now turned to recovery.

I won't rehash the details. The sight of the school bus on the smashed bridge will be indelibly marred into my mind for the rest of my life. And whatever feed you saw no doubt left you with more than enough of a visualization of the tragedy. I have a friend who lives not 4 blocks from that stretch... and I have driven over that bridge more times than I can remember, the last time just last Sunday morning around 1 AM. Just 3 days ago.

That could have just as easily happened with me on that bridge. Just as easily. And almost everyone here is feeling the same thing, since we all use that bridge, all the time.

But there are three things that I feel compelled to say, three thoughts that rise unbidden as I can't get away from the images of the jagged concrete and twisted metal.

First, while flipping through channels, I caught a feed of the BBC. It was their top story, and they spent quite some time with it, even going so far as to have live phone interviews as part of their earliest morning news programs. Sometimes, we get so wrapped up in our locality, when we realize that the whole world is looking in on us, the world doesn't seem so large or so disconnected. It might be our bridge, but it seems to be everyone's tragedy.

There's so many more calls to make to assure your loved ones know you're safe. Instead of thinking, I might have known a person or two who might have been close to the World Trade Center, it was easy enough to check on them... a whole cell phone worth of folks is harder to get through.

Two, the coverage on CNN, and especially by Nancy Grace and her cohorts was the most despicable thing I have seen on television. I sat spellbound as people I lived with floundered for help in the water and her and her cronies were talking about who could sue whom for what..., injecting a sensationlist, blame-filled tirade onto the airwaves. Protecting no one and attempting to instill in people panic. Blaming construction (when for the most part, it was crack repair from the expansion/contraction of concrete due to our temperature changes) and frigid waters when it was in reality 91 degrees today in Minneapolis. Because they had to wait on actual details to come out because they weren't here... they spent their time wildly conjecturing and filling time with whatever hysteria-producing nonsense they could think of.

The push for ratings in the face of horrible tragedy by blowing everything and anything out of any proportion and focusing immediately on blame (even considering the third point I'll discuss) was irresponsible, reprehensible, and thoroughly disgusting.

Finally, third. I'm so proud of my city tonight. When tragedies have happened recently, we've all heard the horrendous tales of getting water to places, people reunited, and found. Getting agencies to work together in a time of need rather than at cross purposes.

Tonight, in Minneapolis, the truth is that there was already enough blood at the Red Cross for all the injured who survived. People dove into the water and brought the injured to hospitals in their own vehicles before rescue crews could arrive, laying them in their pickup beds so they didn't need to wait for ambulances. And even though there's enough for now, there's a line of volunteers formed at the Red Cross for more blood and more help, and to help for future tragedies.

Every fire deparment, police force, rescure crew, and government agency worked swiftly and according to plan. Every one of the almost 60 kids was off the bus and bridge in minutes and whisked away to to a Red Cross building to be reunited with their families, many of whom spoke only Spanish.

We have acquitted ourselves in the face of tragedy as the home of the brave and the compassionate.

Someday, we'll all know why the bridge collapsed, and we'll know the names of everyone hurt or killed. But it won't matter as much as knowing how this community responded.

I'm proud to live here and be one of those people.

I'm OK.

2007-08-01T17:21:00.000-07:00

If you're watching tv, and you remember I'm in the Twin Cities... I'm ok.

Apologies

2007-08-01T07:25:00.000-07:00

For the few folks still interested:

Apologies for not continuing the LV stories. I was working on them, but over the course of time since Sunday, the proverbial shit has hit the fan on multiple fronts.

Once damage control has been applied and things have settled, I'll finish them up. I promise.

Vegas the Sequel, Day 1

2007-07-27T11:25:00.000-07:00

*Sorry about the lateness... Technical difficulties, and well, returning to work... not cool. So I gave you a whole day to make up for it... even if the day is fairly sedate. ;)

We left on Saturday morning. Left being more of an operative term as we left late. Eventually, they told us there was a hydraulic leak in the belly of the airplane. We all chalked it up as a hazard of flying, and just rode it out.

When we finally boarded the plane, I had to listen to the long-winded complaints of a woman who was taking all of her daughters (and her daughters' friend and the girls' aunt) to Las Vegas for her youngest daughter's 21st birthday. It appears they were bumped from an earlier flight because they were randomly flagged for being searched and didn't arrive at the airport early enough to still make their flight. While I wanted to correct a number of her assumptions about how they were targetted, I couldn't help but stop to think whether it would be any fun to roll with my mom to Las Vegas for my 21st birthday...

I didn't think it would.

We did finally arrive at our hotel, the Flamingo. The Flamingo is one of the older institutions on the strip, the one famous for being the brainchild of gangster Bugsy Siegel. Which is always cool for a guy of my persuasion to stay in a place.

This time, we had 7 of us. 2 were staying in a different hotel (the Planet Hollyhood hotel, formerly the Aladdin... they had Rambo's explosive arrow in their room). The other four of us split up to head to our rooms in the Flamingo. Shawn and I were on the 10th floor. There were floor to ceiling windows ... not good for someone like me with terrible vertigo, but also good for seeing the water show at the Bellagio without being outside in the heat.

Let's just get this out of the way now... the desert in the summer is hot. Like a blast furnace hot. But it's dry... so at least when you sweat, it does evaporate and cool you down some. And drinking water actually helps. But it is hot. Very much so.

After settling, we took a walk to the end of the strip to the new Hooters casino/hotel/restaraunt for lunch. It's basically a Hooters with slot machines and table games in it... I mean, other than the waitresses.

They threw us in a back corner (a theme of the trip if there was one). We did sneak a move to a better table to allow us to watch outside. (Las Vegas is prime people-watching... even more so than my own local Mall of America.) A girl was watching a band play live.

A stack of their brochures went flying during a gust of wind and well...

Word of warning ladies? Strap 'em in. Don't run on cement in a halter top with no undergarment and not expect to give a show. Oh... and piercings? There? Brave you are. Brave.

After a hamburger (that didn't come with fries) and a plastic cup full of their darkest beer set me back $30 ... I knew I was in Vegas.

We headed back to our hotel, trying to maximize the portion of the walk taking place in A/C. The plan was to wait for the final member of our party to arrive (he had to take a later flight after working the AM on Saturday) and head downtown to the Old Strip and Freemont Street.

After some naps (come on, we are older now) and some other confusion on collecting Kent and getting him settled, we moseyed over to the Rockhouse. The plan was to meet with the 2 staying in a different hotel and hit somewhere for dinner.

The Rockhouse sits right on the strip in front of the Imperial Palace. It's "our" hangout in Vegas... in fact, the bartender remembered Shawn from his prediliction for Grey Goose. Anyway, it used to be this cheap place called "Tequila Joes" that served bad nachos. Now, they play hard rock and have go go dancers. Whatever. It's still our hangout.

Anyway, we each had some drinks (Top shelf Captain and coke for me, none of this Bacardi crap), we were getting bored waiting for Jason and Chris to arrive, so we started doing shots. First shot of Vegas?

Jag bombs. Then, Shawn got all mysterious and took his internet capable phone up to the bar. He came back with this purple, creamy looking shot. It wasn't baaad... but it was called a Duck Fart... and that kept us entertained until our party arrived.

Poor Kent, our late arrival, however, was already feeling good. See, he has to take Valium to fly, and he had just arrived, hopped up on Valium, 2 hours time difference, just worked, no nap, and here we are doing shots.... did I mention that Kent doesn't hardly drink?

Anyway, we headed out the back to the Imperial Palace cab stand and took a ride down to Fremont Street. Taking cabs in Vegas isn't cheap, but it's really the only convenient way to get downtown. We got the name of a decent buffet at the Main Street Station and did a bit of dinner before heading out on the street.

See, in order to attract people from the strip to come downtown to the older casinos, they teamed up to build a roof over the street (which is pedestrian only). The roof towers 90 feet over the street, and is approximately 6 blocks in length (give or take). And, in true Vegas fashion, that isn't the only thing. It's a screen.

You can watch tv, sporting events, or the hourly light show on it.

We were all tired. We each grabbed a clear plastic football with booze in it (3 of them copied my choice of Smirnoff Orange vodka, Sprite, and ice). And yes, it's the size of an actual football.

We took it easy, being too full from the buffet, and too tired from the time difference, the heat and working the whole week only to be up early on Saturday AM to cram onto a plane. We watched the light show, and played the "Wheel of Cheese" before calling it early and heading back to the Flamingo for rest and relaxation.

The Wheel of Cheese? For some reason, that's just what we started calling it. The game is actually called Big Six. It's a giant wheel divided into a souple of hundred sections all with different odds in them. You pick your odds, and bet. If the wheel lands on what you chose, you won. Very basic, very lame.

But we do it every time. Every time. Big pimpin', spin the wheel of cheese.

God, I feel old. But it was a sign to come of a lot of things... back corner tables... Jagermeister in quantities it shouldn't be imbibed in... and wasting time.

We swore we'd make up for our lack of fun on Sunday. Swore.

Las Vegas Stories The Sequel

2007-07-25T08:41:00.000-07:00

I'll begin tomorrow. Today is my recovery day, and, um... I need it.

As a word of warning ahead of time, I was unable to take any of my own pictures, so I'm going to steal a few I need from other places where I think they might be needed.

Lessons learned?

Jagermeister is bad. All bad.

Far Far Away

2007-07-20T08:28:00.000-07:00

I've been trying to be more proactive on my blog this week... I mean, if you haven't noticed. I'm leaving tomorrow on my flight, and while I hope to have wonderful stories to share, I also don't like the thought of leaving.

There's always so much to do and you're always worried about missing something. But the truth is, for the past couple of weeks, my stress level has risen to the point at work where I'm having serious issues with my mental stability. I can't seem to sleep, and I can't seem to get comfortable in my own skin.

And no, it's not because I'm wearing somebody else's, thank you Buffalo Bill fans (there's an odd tangent for you...)

Anyway, I really need the vacation and the time to not worry. And I'm worried. Always worried.

Stories when I get back. And probably pictures from my mini digital camera (it's keychain sized). Until then, take care of yourselves.

Far, Far Away
by Slade

I've seen the yellow lights go down the Mississippi
I've seen the bridges of the world and they're for real
I've had a red light off-the-wrist without me even getting kissed
It still seems so unreal

I've seen the morning in the mountains of Alaska
I've seen the sunset in the East and in the West
I've sang the glory that was Rome and passed the 'Hound Dog' singer's home
It still seems for the best

And I'm far, far away
With my head up in the clouds
And I'm far, far away
With my feet down in the crowds
Letting loose around the world
But the call of home is loud
Still is loud

I've seen the Paris lights from high upon Montmartre
And felt the silence hanging low in No Man's Land
And though those Spanish nights were fine it wasn't only from the wine
It still seems all in hand

And I'm far, far away
With my head up in the clouds
And I'm far, far away
With my feet down in the crowds
Letting loose around the world
But the call of home is loud
Still is loud

I've seen the yellow lights go down the Mississippi
The Grand Bahama Island stories carry on
And though those arrigato smiles stay in your memory for a while
There still seems more to come

And I'm far, far away
With my head up in the clouds
And I'm far, far away
With my feet down in the crowds
Letting loose around the world
But the call of home is loud
Still is loud

Homespun Terrorism

2007-07-19T10:13:00.000-07:00

I think I'm going to invent a bra bomb and pay somebody to wear it into an airport.

When security detains her, that should get bras banned from all flights.

From that point it's just a matter of finding a good seat to watch from.

Harry Potter Spoilers!!!!!

2007-07-18T13:42:00.000-07:00

Darth Vader is his father!

Wait. Wrong series you say?

Oh. Oh well.

(Like Forrest Gump, Harry Potter is something I have not seen, nor have a desire to. But this faux media sensation about "spoilers" and the 1200 books sent early is really getting on my nerves. Luckily, the book releases at midnight on Friday night, and they don't allow people dressed like wizards on airplanes anymore so. I can't wait for the hype to end so I can get on with watching apartment buildings in Burnsville burn on the news instead.)

Saturday Can't Come Soon Enough

2007-07-16T08:49:00.001-07:00

Viva Las Vegas.

Broken Radar

2007-07-10T07:50:00.000-07:00

It's weird when coworkers show you pictures of their daughters.

Recently divorced you say? He was a jerk and she can never meet nice guys you say?

Um...

Oh. She lives in Phoenix, and doesn't talk to you as much as she used to? That's too bad. No, really I mean that. I have relatives who are the same way.

Wow, is it just me, or was it just really warm in here?

Those Darn Pirates

2007-06-26T14:41:00.001-07:00

Work It Out

2007-06-21T23:29:00.000-07:00

--------------------------

Work It Out, by Def Leppard

Day and night black and white
You take it all for granted
I'm the one who turns you on

When you don't know where you belong
And nothin' seems to matter
I'm the one who's holding on

It's alright to be wrong
All we need's a little time
But nothing here can last that long

We show the world a brand new face
It's taken us all this time
All this time

All of this doubt
We get to work it out
All of this doubt
We get to work it out

Yesterday lost your way
Still looking for an answer
I'm the one who holds the key

When you don't know where you belong
And nothing seems to matter
I'll unlock this mystery

We show the world a brand new face
It's taken us all this time
All this time
All of this doubt
We get to work it out
All of this doubt
We get to work it out

We show the world a brand new face
It's taken us all this time
All this time
All of this doubt
We get to work it out
All of this doubt
We get to work it out

All of this doubt
Day and night - Black and White
Take it all for granted
We get to work it out
I'm the one who turns you on
Turns you on - Turns you on
All of this doubt

When you don't know where you belong
And nothin' seems to matter
We get to work it out
I'm the one who's holdin' on
Holdin' on - Holdin' on

Mad Skillz

2007-06-21T09:58:00.000-07:00

More to come.

You Know What Isn't Cool? Lava.

2007-06-07T07:37:00.000-07:00

By nature, I'm a fairly shy, quiet person. I like to observe before injecting myself into conversations and gatherings.

I had a unique opportunity to meet a few Minneapolis bloggers, and film them in their natural habitat. Luckily for me, none was lurking in the sandy shallows to ram a barb through my chest... but you always have to be on your toes, you know?

I know alot of you out there are the quiet types too, so I know you know what I'm talking about. You struggle with wondering how do I make a good impression, yet be myself so that if I have the good fortune to be invited back, at least they're inviting back the person, not the act. All that in an environment where they feel comfortable and you're something of the outsider.

Does my voice sound whiny? Do I look weird in the clothes I wore all day to work or should I have changed? You know, the usual self-berating crap we all put ourselves through.

There's an added dimension with being bipolar though.

You wonder how much of the insanity and the mental illness shows. If you come off as some unhinged, bizarre charicture of yourself. And you add that onto the heap of shy and retiring garbage you normally exhibit, and voila.

You spend an hour and a half surfing channels when you get home wondering how you did like your personality is some piece of weird performance art.

But, even if I was an ugly, uncharismatic, foolish, imbalanced fruit, I did win free food via musical bingo...

And... I did get to film Jeremy and Amber in their natural environment, making the second time a dan-filmed piece has made its way onto the internet.

And before you ask, no, Paris Hilton isn't in the other one.

I'll be checking on everyone soon.

Life Would be Infinitely Cooler in Slow Motion

2007-05-30T08:22:00.000-07:00

Some people are like Slinkys. They don't really do anything, but it's still funny when one of them takes a tumble down the stairs.

Work is kind of like that. For the past (what has it been since I was last able to post and make the rounds?) 3 or 4 weeks every week has gotten worse and worse. See, I made a cardinal mistake of employment. I proved my capability.

And we all know, the more capability you show, the more they pile on. If I had to wear a button for every thing that I'm in responsible for, it'd be a bad parody of the 'flair' scene in Office Space. I mean, on one hand, it's good. I'm proving my value and gathering skills and good references for any attempt at moving up. I'm providing technical services as a intranet community manager that while not paid like other tech jobs, also gives me a solid wealth of experience if I ever want to apply for a completely technical oriented job (the hazards of a lib arts -like degree).

On top of that, I've been trying to arrange a website for my writing portfolio to try to find an outlet for a little extra income. (It's not really all that... just something more professional than a blog I can point to in future -- especially since all my other technical work is all internal-only). Luckily for me, nonfiction writing takes little skill. :)

I'm trying to figure out how and what I want to move to Wordpress and finally dumping Blogger. About who I am and what kinds of messages I want to send.

My parents and one of my two sisters is due into town this week. I'm trying to arrange a camping foray. I was weeks behind on laundry until yesterday.

I have responsibilities to my friends in World of Warcraft. Though sometimes, when all the naked elven girls are dancing with the buff warriors, it reminds me of college.

And summer movie season: Besides the big ones, I have to find smaller, arty theaters for things like Bug, Severance, and Day Tripper. I love movies in the theater -- especially horror ones. But that's a blog for another time. Suffice it to say I love watching other people reacting to the film as much as I love watching the movie itself.

One of my friends is going absolutely insane, and not in a good way. He's getting worse and worse and there's nothing I can for him. I've been trying to help another friend try to save and nurture her relationship.

You'd figure since I've only been sleeping on average 4 hours a night for the past month or so, I'd have plenty of time. But that's the crazy thing about the little stuff. So many things add up so fast and before you know it, every free minute is spoken for.

I was in the bathroom today and written above one of the urinals it said "The joke isn't on the wall, it's in your hands." I never felt so small in my life.

I beat myself up alot because I hold myself to a higher standard. I want to believe that I would give everything I had for someone else.

Just so happens, right now I kind of am.

But that's ok. Really. Want to know why?

Because I'm heading back to Vegas for guy's weekend in July. It's kind of a last hurrah since one of my guy friends is having his first child early this fall. And wild trips like this, although possible, will be more the exception than the rule.

Work may be hard and miserable. Life may be hard and miserable.

But as long as there's something you're working toward... it's all worth it.

To the Point

2007-05-07T07:22:00.000-07:00

I always have the same argument with people. Ever since the publication of Interview With the Vampire by Anne Rice, we've had to suffer through various incarnations of the sympathetic and sensual vampire. They've thrown away centuries of tradition and myth in order to sell the romance of immortality.

The vampire was always a snarling, evil creature returned from death to feed on the blood and vitality of the living.

In fact, in Eastern Europe, one of the various vampires myths was that the creature would sneak into your house and sit on your chest until you suffocated.

It feels something like that.

Tesla - Heaven's Trail

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-------------------------

Heaven's Trail (No Way Out), by Tesla

You know I'm on a slick trip, I'm always ready to kick ass
Up on the stage I'm in a rage, I'm havin' the time of my life
Yes, indeed, what a sweet, sweet life it is

Until some loco two-bit floosie with a Louie Le-Strange
Ain't good for nothin' but trouble
They're just two fools livin' up to their names
And now it's startin' to rain on my parade

You know there's nothin' like the real world to get me down
There's nothin' like the world outside that turns me upside down
It makes me feel like I'm headin' down a one-way, dead-end street

[Chorus:]
There's no way out, no way out of this living hell
No way out, no way out, unless you walk heaven's trail
No way out, no way out of this living hell, livin' hell

You know I had it made in the shade, thinkin' that it's not so bad after all
That's when I woke up, smelled the coffee, I'm back where I started again, yes
And now it's pourin' rain on my parade

No there's nothin' like the real world to get me down, no
One is there to lift you up, one to drag you down
Now, don't you see that we're heading down a one-way, dead-end street

[Chorus]

There's no way out, no way out of this living hell
No way out, no way out, unless you walk heaven's trail
No way out, no way out of this living hell - I guess I'll live in hell

[Chorus]

Yes, it's a beautiful thing

You know, I'm on a slick trip, I'm always ready to kick ass

The Day After Yesterday

2007-04-23T12:29:00.000-07:00

You know why I dislike my birthday (other than constantly getting older and more broken)?

Because I get more well-wishes from my blog posse than I get from my family. Sure, April in general and my birthday in particular are reminders of very bad times in my life; and I've been forced to celebrate when I didn't want to, which would turn anyone off to the idea.

But it means alot to me when my friends take me out for breakfast (thanks guys) and we just have a quiet sit down for some French Toast because most of the time, they're more my family than my family is.

At least one of my sisters sent me an Easter card this year. I don't know what I would have done if I had missed it.

The Blog World Reacts to VA Tech

2007-04-18T14:05:00.000-07:00

As shall I. Though I hope to take a slightly different path here. (As if I wouldn't.)

You know what drives me nuts?

During the media frenzy over the past few days (though I will admit there is a need and desire to know, so much of the coverage is indeed warranted), I was struck by the overwhelming desire of everyone to find someone to blame.

Why didn't the campus shut down earlier? Why didn't the gunman's professors or roomates say something? Why didn't etc etc.

And not only that, during the press conferences, the University president defended himself and the university before those questions were even asked. His immediate response was to deflect blame from the university and himself first, and to inform and reassure second.

The point is that I wrote things that disturbed my teachers in high school... one going so far as to paint me as a deviant satanist. And I'm one of the quietest wouldn't hurt a fly types you'd ever find. Hindsight is 20/20, and the only way questions of "Why wasn't something different done?" exist only to deflect blame from the perpetrator of the act to those in power.

It's the reason for Kennedy conspiracy theories and Rosie's obsession with explosives in the WTC. No matter what solid logic and evidence exists to the contrary, hindsight gets our culture to believe that a vast array of things aligned to upset our perfect lives. The 19 terrorists didn't ram planes into the WTC, the government failed in preventing them from doing it.

The VA Tech gunman didn't shoot and kill 30+ innocent students and professors. The University and Police didn't prevent it; and the system didn't force him to get mental health help.

The reality is something like this can happen anywhere, at any time. BECAUSE IT'S ONE PERSON'S DISTURBED RESPONSE TO THE WORLD. IT'S HIS FAULT AND NOT THE UNIVERSITY'S OR POLICE'S OR HIS PARENTS'. Why didn't they shut down the campus? Because all the evidence pointed to a domestic outburst that was confined and a singular incident.

My question to the media is why didn't Cho Seung-hui decide to just stay in his dorm room and play video games that day? It was his choice and his choices alone that made April 16th the massacre that it was.

Point out to me anywhere where 1 person out of 26,000 is noticed, let alone forced into care and dissected prior to a violent outburst. Is it sad and tragic that he had a mental illness and his view of the world was so twisted. Of course.

Irregardless, each of us is responsible for what we do. Excuses are explanatory in nature... they can help show what led us down a path of choices... but choices they still are.

As for the University and the Police, in my eyes their failing is not in the late email or in not forcing a citizen without a violent history into mental counseling. It is in protecting their image and playing the game. Your FIRST job should have been to make each and every person attached to this tragedy feel safe and protected as best as possible.

Instead of telling everyone that it will take days to find out who is hurt and who is not; print out a damn class list of everyone who was supposed to be in those classes the gunman entered. Your list for identifying victims should have been short to begin with. The process of letting families know their children were safe; or in finding out who had been hurt should have been your immediate priority and one achieved with blinding speed, not, as we are told, take days. If 25 people in a class were shot, and 4 walked out of the building, and you have a list of everyone who is supposed to be in that class, it shouldn't be rocket science to give people peace of mind about their loved ones and identify the affected.

Stop spending all your time deflecting blame heaped on by a media concerned with selling the unique angle and do the right thing.

Your job is to protect and serve; not yourself, but those in your care.

Could we have identified Oswald, or Ted Bundy, or any of the mad hatters who have sullied the month of my birth with school shootings and federal building bombings before they did so much damage? Maybe.

Maybe we get a better attempt to do so in the future and these kids didn't die in vain when we know all the facts.

Instead of tearing each other down, or retreating into our shell for fear of being torn down, we should work for what's right and good first, and toss shit like monkeys later.

Evolution should have at least taught us that much.

24

2007-04-12T11:53:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, my little brother would have had his 24th birthday.

Ever year, it makes me a little sadder.

Probably because every year I could have used him in my life that much more.

300 posts. What do you know?

Maybe someday I'll be put on the list of Twin Cities blogs by City Pages. Of course, I'd have to probably find something important to say first.

So, If I'm Not Going to Talk About That Stuff...

2007-04-05T10:54:00.000-07:00

What am I going to ramble on about?

Bathroom foibles. I think how and when and why you go to the bathroom tells alot about you.

Maybe it's because I sit right across from a set of them at work... and can see how many people take 50 trips there a day to avoid working.

Or maybe it's because the other day I saw something that flabbergasted me.

Usually, one big gripe about bathrooms is that some people don't wash their hands afterwards... Not the worst thing in the world, surely, but what would likely be called a sin of omission.

You'd never think twice about someone washing their hands in the bathroom.

I had to this time.

I have now officially seen someone wash their hands before using the restroom. Which wouldn't be so creepy, except... well, he didn't wash after.

Now, us guys tend to think our genitals define us, by size or amount of usage.

Washing your hands BEFORE touching yourself, but not after, shows an affection that, well, to be frank, borders on the weird.

Well, maybe not borders. Invades weird from the overseas home of normalcy and replaces the current regime with creepy.

Run. It's Still Alive.

2007-04-03T07:35:00.000-07:00

Here we are again, a few weeks away from when I've been able to make a substantive update.

What could I tell you about that time?

I could tell you about the birthday gift I got for Kim... a personalized book starring her and her best friend.

I could tell you about the crazy list of demands and work at work.

We could discuss the 14 year anniversary of asking Kim out coming and passing and my parents actually sending a card.

I could tell you about having my yearly review, which was stellar as you might expect, even if I am limiting how hard I try so I don't get exploited. I could also mention how I'm on track for a promotion and another bigger raise in 30 days on top of my regular yearly raise and my merit increase even beyond that. Or maybe even that it means I've been here a whole year and I still don't hate myself for it.

I could warn you about keyloggers... one of which got onto my machine and has precipitated my need to completely reformat and dump my anti-virus software for better stuff.

I could effuse about the 22' flat panel widescreen monitor I'm getting at work.

I could bring up that I tried to be spontaneous and offer to buy round trip airline tickets and hotel to Vegas (come on, it's cheap) for Kim and I since we never travelled together and I desperately need a vacation so I can slow down. And how it was decided that although it was spontaneous and we have the money, it wasn't practical in the least.

Maybe we could examine how guilty I feel about not being able to get a chance to blog or read blogs.

I could philosophize about the great relationship Jon Stewart and Dennis Miller shared on The Daily Show recently being a model of how people with radically different politics can still get along and make each other laugh and discuss issues.

I could complain about the fact that my birthday is coming up again, as is my brother's birthday and the anniversary of his death.

We could talk about the books I've read, the online monsters I've killed, or how cool it is to see the Dresden Files on TV after having read the books first.

We could discuss any of those things. But then you'd get the impression I'm still horrendously busy and struggling and trying all wrapped up in too little time. And that I'd think that these difficulties were singular to me.

3 seconds

2007-03-21T07:48:00.000-07:00

Is the amount of time I've had since last Thursday, but I have to comment on this US Attorney thing because it's everywhere.

You know how many US Attorneys were let go by the Bush Administration?

8

Take a guess how many Bill Clinton replaced his first time in office. No, really. Take a wild guess.

Unless you guessed 93, you're wrong. Of course, then, that was just considered a clean sweeping of old-line Reagan appointees.

They are political appointments, and always have been. This is a non-issue and the country has better things to do than dink with this.

We get the government we deserve and elect. That should both comfort and scare the living hell out of you.

Sense of Humor

2007-03-16T07:38:00.000-07:00

So, Iwas going to try to write a joke. This is as far as I got.

A baby seal walks into a club...

Examination

2007-03-07T09:36:00.000-08:00

Who knew that the government switching Daylight Savings Time to this weekend from it's original start date three weeks from now would cause so many issues? When your company depends on time and time stamps, and computers are all set automaticcally for the original date, it gets to be tricky. Glossing over the technical aspects, let's simply say it's been a messy couple of weeks.

The funny thing is that I wasn't hired to be the 'technical guy'. I'm not paid anywhere near enough to be 'the technical guy'. But here I am.

When I first came down to the Twin Cities to find work, I started working at an insurance company. Myself, and 3 others who all become good friends, created a brand new way of processing losses that were deemed total losses. We busted our asses and were making money in a business dedicated to paying out.

But people didn't like our success because none of us had been in insurance before. Stacy was a graphic designer, Katie was a admin assistant, Jesse had never had a job or gone to college, and I was... well me. So, we started getting moved around ostensibly as promotions. As they burned us out, only one of us stayed. A new manager came in and appointed one of his friends the manager of the unit instead of Katie, the one who stayed behind and helped create the thing.

I still have lunch and talk with the old crew, and it appears that through mismanagement the unit has been turned into a financial drain and made irrelevant and useless and the unit is being completely cut.

I shouldn't take it personally, but I do.

Since the beginning of the year, things have just seemed to be slowly getting worse. I'm in better financial shape than I have ever been. But it's still not good enough to buy a home, or actually catch up. even with how busy I am, I'm worried I'm going to have to find a second job just to get by. I'm hesitant to do so because I know the toll it will take on my physical and mental health but I'm running out of options. If I don't I'll never get anywhere because I will never make enough at one job because I'm not good enough to make more than I do.

A couple of my friends decided they couldn't wait until May for the Vegas trip so they went themselves a couple weeks ago.

A hopefully planned trip to DC fell through because Kim was called for year-long federal jury duty. Of course, I was so hung up on finding a birthday gift for her that I forgot entirely to get her a card.

I can't sleep at night because when I fall asleep, I see Serena. My subconcious continues to desire to flog me. And telling anyone this is the reason my 30 year old self isn't sleeping well is ridiculously embarassing.

The list is nearly endless and continuing seems a pointless exercise in whiny-ism.

I'm reading this book right now about John Wilkes Booth, and seeing how desperate he was to prove he was more than the world allowed him to be is hitting too close to home. He followed the path laid out for him until he broke and did something out of character and against the grain just to rebel against the contraints he felt. Remember, JWB shouted sic semper tyrannis, "ever thus to tyrants" after he took his shot. His family never owned a single slave.

He was a success in his father's occupation. He lived well, had the adoration of others. But he was driven by something different than that... the need to follow the calling of his heart. And that took him someplace much darker than even he wanted to go.

I'm worried about the way I feel and in all honesty, I'm having a ton of trouble with the demands and constraints placed on my and my inability to wiggle, to choose, or to see reward in proportion to effort.

I'm not a very faithful person. But I don't know any other way to phrase this.

I feel like I'm waiting for God to erase me.

-----------------

-----------------

Wasteland, by 10 Years

Change my attempt good intentions

Crouched over
You were not there
Living in fear
But signs were not really that scarce
Obvious tears
But I will not
Hide you through this
I want you to help them, please see
The bleeding heart perched on my shirt

Die, withdraw
Hide in cold sweat
Quivering lips
Ignore remorse
Naming a kid, living wasteland
This time you've tried
All that you can turning you red

Change my attempt good intentions
Should I, could I
Here we are with your obsession
Should I, could I

Crowned hopeless
The article read living wasteland
This time you've tried
All that you can turning you red
but I will not
Hide you through this
I want you to help

Change my attempt good intentions
Should I, could I

Here we are with your obsession
Should I, could I

Heave the silver hollow sliver
Piercing through another victim
Turn and tremble be judgmental
Ignorant to all the symbols
Blind the face with beauty paste
Eventually you'll one day know

Change my attempt good intentions
Limbs tied, skin tight
Self inflicted his perdition

Should I, could I
Change my attempt good intentions
Should I, could I

He'd Rather Play With Boobs Than Play With Me

2007-02-12T11:31:00.000-08:00

A day late, a dollar short. Story of my life I guess.

In any event, let's just say that work has been crazy lately. Where I had been editing and uploading maybe 200 files on a heavy day, I can now get 2000. Oh, and that community manager thing? Let's just say that as soon as I was firmly entrenched in the position, it was brought up the move to their new systems had broken a training search engine.

Apparently, I program search engines now too. Which I suppose isn't a terrible skill to pick up, but... uh, it's kind of time consuming. Especially since they want the results to appear in one portal without direct access to the server on which the training information is stored.

Le sigh. It is nice to be needed though.

Well, sort of.

One of the things that defines my personality is I take a lot of responsibility for things. When given all this extra work to do, I bust my rear end to do it, and do it well.

My problem is that I apply that same level of responsibility to everything else.

Kim's parents came down and had dinner with us. Suffice it to say they are now very actively supportive and drop plenty of hints about the future. Kim's mom told her that she had never seen her happier.

Yeah, that's not pressure.

Did I mention that Valentine's Day and her birthday are approaching, but she hates when I do stuff for her?

Hmm. Kind of a pickle that one.

The new expansion for World of Warcraft came out. Which would be great, except for all of my online friends needing me to put in some time so we can tackle all the group stuff together. I play an important role, and even though it's only a game, there are real people sitting on the other side of the monitor that I care about who would like to enjoy the game with me. Feel responsible to them too.

And there's you guys online. I've been a horrible blogger since the first of the year as my job has morphed into this out of control beast. I don't hang out face to face with my friends as much as I'd like.

I feel an unhealthy amount of responsibility to everyone and everything. It's not that feeling responsible is bad per se.

But when I can't ever catch up at work, no matter how long or hard I work... when I can't find the time to blog, or share time with friends, I feel like I'm failing them.

And failing them is failing me.

You try and keep your chin up and hope that things even out eventually; that eventually the hamster wheel you're on spins a little less faster. That you can magically learn to organize everything better.

I hate to feel like I've failed anybody. Problem is, we all do sometime.

My guy friends and I were supposed to hit Las Vegas again. Obviously, with my work schedule kind of being "leave right now under pain of death" I can't go until things taper off in May when legislatures wind down their sessions.

So, they blame me that we can't go. Of course, in December and early January, when I could go, it was too difficult for them.

I make ok money, I get by. But the truth is that I make about 1/2 as much as most of my friends. They don't have alot of respect for what I do; so it's my fault when we can't go. Part of that, I know, is that most people I know believe I'm capable of so much more; less than they actually disrespect what I do.

Even though I personally am getting ahead of where I was, my responsibility makes me feel like I'm falling further behind.

If someone would be kind enough to invent sleep in pill form, so I could get back 4-8 hours of every day, I'd appreciate it greatly.

Tempt Fate...

2007-02-08T08:21:00.000-08:00

Never do it.

I'll update this weekend, come hell or high water. Sorry.

Player removed for autorun annoyance. :)

The Vagaries of the Human Immune System

2007-01-18T07:44:00.000-08:00

Since Christmas, I have not been well for more than 24hours. Every time I get sick, I get better, only to have my weakened immune system pick up the next most popular disease in short order. As I succeed the pattern has repeated itself.

Well, until I had MLK day off from work and took two more days off. I slept from 9:30 pm on Tuesday until 2:00 pm on Wedsnesday only waking up briefly once. I'm hoping now that I've strung together feeling OK for two days this is going to pass behind me.

Work has been crazy in that time too. Since being named a community manager for my company's intranet site I have so many meetings and little things to occupy my day that I barely even know whether I'm coming or going. Add to that that every legislature in the country is now in session, and we're getting bombarded with all sorts of new bills and laws since the newly elected are all hyper in their new jobs.

Suffice it to say I have about 20 emails I need to return, I sad-looking blog (the tumbleweed is a little over the top), and a host of responsibilities that have completely fallen by the wayside. (Though I finally got laundry out of the way on Monday. Yay clean underpants!) I have a ton to catch up on, including leaving snarky comments around the internet.

I guess life just wanted me to slow down. I would have been happier with a telegram or phone call. But life is nothing less than a cheap bastard.

If I owe you an email, it's coming.

Defense

2007-01-10T07:05:00.000-08:00

Ombren: You know what I learned today?

Me: Addition?

It's hard to defend oneself when you're my size and have only had cereal to eat because you're ill.

But it was worth it.

Where Did He Go?

2007-01-08T07:19:00.000-08:00

Violently ill. I'll be back around eventually.

Saved, not Religiously

2006-12-28T14:01:00.000-08:00

I committed what would likely be considered a cardinal sin the other day. As per usual, I was having trouble sleeping and up long before my alarm went off in the morning. So I was surfing the internet and listened to the silly voice in my head that tells you to check in on exes.

Especially since I'd been having all these other thoughts lately.

Serena's mom keeps a blog. It took some scouring of my mental files to remember the address, but I went to check in on the family.

I found three very interesting things.

1) I was struck by how dismayed I was about the attitudes shown toward others, and life in general. I don't want to elaborate because that's their private life, suffice it to say that their choices continue to amaze and astound me, especially considering how much people have given them in their lives.

2) Now, I'm not a huge makeup and get dressed up kind of guy in my women. I tend to look past alot of that. Pretty is pretty. I wasn't attracted in any way to the person I saw. And it just wasn't from the experience. Sometimes, they say you can see who a person is in their eyes, in how they hold themselves. I saw that, and it wasn't flattering in the least.

3) Most of all, I didn't care. I saw pictures and read the words of people I cared about. And I wasn't interested at all. Strangely, I didn't care at all.

Don't get me wrong, I loved her. I do (in a more present tense), but I think what I was trying to get out in my previous post was hammered home. I would have found these things. Caring for someone is different than the logical process of weighing who is good for you, who is not. Especially now, she has given herself over to the bad part of her soul, and it shows. And it shows in the people around her who are her example of how to live and how to relate to others.

Chemistry is not all there is. But neither is logic. I found chemistry in the dark part of my own soul with her.

No matter what I did, I could never have saved her. She made her choice about what was important to her. That doesn't invalidate anything; it simply is.

And I would have given up my family, and Kim, and my friends to try. I never would have met all the cool cats on the internet I have. And yesterday, I was so glad I hadn't given all that up, I couldn't even describe the feeling to you guys.

I don't talk alot about Kim on the blog, because she's fairly private, like me. And the details of us sorting out what was to become of a promising relationship we had cracked, seemed really personal.

But the truth in that blog was destiny, or fate, or luck, or whatever, had put me in a place to watch my friends have their baby, to help my nephews open their Christmas gifts, to take Kim out to dinner last night. It had left me surrounded by the kinds of people that make my life better. People who match the good part of my soul and reinforce the decent and good part of me.

Kim is beautiful because the nature of her soul shines out from her. What's inside matches the outside.

We both fucked up in alot of ways. What makes a relationship work, more than anything, is the people involved not believing the cliche that there are a million fish in the sea, and that people can be easily replaced. It takes two people investing in themselves to solve problems rather than walk away from them, to take responsibility and ownership.

In the end, I think we were both just trying to do what we thought would make the other happy. And since we had stopped really communicating with each other, we were guessing and guessed wrong in reading a desire to be apart in the other.

She is so out of my league, but I'm trying everyday to understand myself a little bit better so I can treat her better. And every day that I am able to accomplish that is another day we get closer to making it really work. Each day is it's own.

Our lives are measured in how we treat others.

I don't have the certainty about all the romantic stuff I had when I was 16 (who does?). But what I saw reminded me I need to just do the best I can now, and the rest will attend to itself. What will work will, what won't, won't.

But if I'm the right kind of person, more will work than won't. I still have everything that matters to me. And a chance to do even better. And that was strangely comforting.

I hope 2007 brings you all whatever you're looking for.

Street Smarts

2006-12-26T11:59:00.000-08:00

Its amazing what goes through your mind while sitting in a Perkins on Christmas Eve.

We were sitting two booths away from a group of 3 college-aged girls (who eventually became 4). Of course, because it was otherwise empty, and they didn't necessarily care, we could hear the entirety of their conversation.

"Oh yeah, I went to visit "this guy" (excuse my oldness I don't remember the name, and everything was going well, so we were, like making out, and then we started having sex, but I told him to get off me because I didn't want to go down that road with him."

"Yeah, she has sex with anybody. She hates condoms, so she never has them wear them. But she got her period, so I guess it's ok. I think I want her to be my roommate next year." (There's so much wrong in this I don't even know where to begin...)

There's a part of me that sometimes wishes I had been more wild when I was younger. You hear some of the stories of others and wish you had your own. I think it's a genetic thing where men compare numbers, and women compare quality, and if, for some reason, you feel like you fall short of others, you wonder about missed opportunities. Regardless of whether we like it or not, humans are herd animals and we basically just want to fit in.

(See the comformative nature of so-called" individual things like goth wear, piercings, or tattoos... If everyone has one, how rebellious and individual are they?)

That's probably a topic for another time though. The main point here is in relationships.

When you haven't had a lot, it's hard to see the good and bad in the ones you do have. Someone can tell you that sticking your hand on the burner is bad; but do you really get it until you've been burned?

Without a string of good relationships, how do you really quantify a GREAT one?

Book learning may get you ahead in alot of things, but it never seems to trump simple experience, especially in life.

I tend to get focused on things. When I do something, I give myself over to it, one hundred percent. This may sound strange, but there's not other things on my mind. I am completely committed to whatever, whether that's finding a gift for my nephews, having a conversation, writing a blog post, or whatever.

This commitment to stuff gets me hurt. See, if I don't have the experience to see something is bad before I commit, I'm given over to it and when it goes badly, it hurts me more than it probably should. Because I'm so much more invested in things than I should be. Where my focus can allow me to accomplish amazing things, it can also let me down.

Every strength is a weakness and all that.

One of the funny thoughts I thought about while listening to the girls at Perkins was how unusual it is that people feel like they have all this control. When the reality is that although you can choose who you don't want to be with, you can never really choose who you DO want to be with.

Because they get to make their own decision. Which is also probably why you always hear "It just happened..." as an explantion for so many romantic situations.

We're all at the mercy of others, because that's the kind of social animal we are. We all do great things for each other, and horrible things to each other.

We hope that in time, we have enough experience to weed out the bad ones before they have a chance to figure out our weaknesses and allow them to hurt us. And we hope that we can identify the good people in our lives so that we can nourish them and keep them around because selfishly speaking, they're good for us.

And that experience also leads us to learning how to treat others. We go on one day from loving someone with all our hearts to hating them and wishing them dead. And I never understood that.

The things that made you weak in the knees are still the same. What's changed is your knowledge of how that person relates to you.

Sometimes I wish I had been wild or pursued my very few opportunities so I'd have a better appreciation of how good I could have it now. That I had a story or two for those quiet awkward times out with the guys when everyone is discussing stuff and I have nothing to add.

That I had maybe dated or been with girls like those above so that I could beat my head into a wall at my own stupidity and use it to make me a better person now. So that maybe I could have avoided the situation I found myself in.

Maybe it's all some delayed desire to fit in. Maybe it's just a typical midlife crisis and I wonder if I'm really as boring as I seem and feel.

Becauses of my personality, I always am faced with questioning whether or not I'm involved with something because I always get over-invested and stick with it until the bitter end; or for some other reason. And needing to figure that out becomes a massive roadblock to moving forward.

Probably why I like History and Political Science so much. I could conceivably go on for some time on whys and wherefores.

Sure, I can whip your ass at trivia, but you can whip mine at life.

Tradition

2006-12-18T08:25:00.001-08:00

In my long-standing tradition of posting iconoclastic and offensive items for major holidays (like the picture of the Sesame Street gang eating Big Bird for Thanksgiving) I wanted to wish everyone a good holidays since I'll be pretty busy the rest of the week.

You may remember my namesake band from their turn in Old School swearing their way through "Total Eclipse of the Heart".

So, whatever you celebrate, however you celebrate it, I hope it rocks.

Uncensored version available here.

------------------

Rock You Hard This Christmas by the Dan Band

While the jingle bells are jingling
And the snow begins to fall
And my grandma makes her gingerbread cookies
Just across the hall

I'm freaking about what to get you
Then it suddenly occurs to me
The best Christmas present is to rock your body
Underneath the fucking tree

I wanna rock you hard this Christmas
I wanna fill your stocking with my candy cane of joy
We'll have a very merry mother fucking Christmas
I'll drive the love train down Santa Claus Lane
I'm your little drummer boy

While the egg nog is all noggy
And the fireplace all aglow
While our bodies are heating up
In Yuletide places down below

I hope you like my present
It was way too big to wrap
I'm gonna get naughty all over your body
Come sit on Santa's lap

I wanna rock you hard this Christmas
I wanna fill your stocking with my candy cane of joy
We'll have a very merry mother fucking Christmas
We'll drive the love train down Santa Claus Lane
I'm your little drummer boy

We'll be slushing like snow angels till the morning
We won't hear the reindeer hoofing up above
We won't hear Santa coming down the chimney
We won't see he and my grandma making hot ass cookie love

Then we'll hear him explain as he rides out of sight
He'll fucking say

Granny, I rocked you hard this Christmas, yeah
I filled your stocking with my candy cane of joy
So have a very merry mother fucking Christmas

And the world will start rejoicing
And the choir boys start to sing
And the lords of leaping give the ladies in waiting
Their five ass golden rings

And the seven pipers are piping
The eight maids of milking in the snow
And I'll be happy when I'm getting unwrappy
By my Christmass Ho Ho Ho

Have a very merry mother fucking Christmas
Peace on earth, we are the world
And fricking Kumbayah
Have a very merry mother fucking Christmas
Deck the Halls with the Christmas Balls
Fa la la la la la la la!

Tell it to Me... Thursday?

2006-12-14T07:48:00.000-08:00

I have a thing for teachers. Maybe because my mom was one for so long. Or because I was one of those silly kids that liked learning. Maybe that's what attracts me to reading Janet's blog. Of course, it could be her incisive way of looking at everything from pop culture to serious academia.

One of the things Janet does is a "Tell it To me Tuesday" post where she asks readers a question, and invites them to post answers on their own blogs. I really haven't had the wherewithal to participate before, but this week, the question is so tantalizing to me that knew I had to make special effort to answer it.

Maybe just for my own edification.

A few months ago, my boyfriend and I were on our way home from Philadelphia. On the way we spotted a man pulled over to the side of the road. Assumably his family was waiting in the car. He was flagging drivers down and my boyfriend pulled over. He told us that his car had broken down and that help was on the way, but that unfortunately he did not have all the money he needed to pay for the tow truck. So he was asking strangers, out of the kindness of their hearts, for anything up to fifteen dollars to contribute to the total cost. He also offered to pay us back if we were willing to give our address to him.

My questions to you this week are this:

1. Would you have stopped in the first place? Why or why not?

Yes. Maybe this is an environmental thing, but people in MN will almost always attempt to help stranded mototrists. In the "Land of 10,000 Dead Batteries", we're all neighbors on the highways and biways.

2. Are there any factors that would contribute to your stopping or not stopping that would ultimately change your answer?

The fact that he had his family with him would have sealed the deal for me. Because I wouldn't have the other information you presented without actually talking to him, I would have at the least definitely stopped and asked if he had a tow truck on the way.

3. If you stopped, would you or would you not give him the money he asked for?

In this day and age, not having a bank card is kind of a sin. I can understand not having cash on you, or even deciding not to carry credit cards. But almost every bank has check cards, so I would be wary. But I would offer a jump, or to give him and his family a ride somewhere warmer. I would probably even eventually break down and give him $10 if I had it (which is unlikely since I rarely ever carry cash).

4. If you gave him the money, would you supply your address?

This is actually the toughest question of the lot. I know on the surface it looks easy... what with him being a stranger and all. But some people on the internet here have my real address, and they've never met me in person. And they haven't turned into stalkers or anything crazy. The thing for me is that I have a penchant for wanting to pay back every kindness I receive. If I don't pay that back, I feel horrible. How crappy is it to have to stand by the side of the road and beg for money for a tow in front of your family?

Allowing him the opportunity to pay me back would be more for him than it would be for me. So yeah, I probably would.

Besides, if anything goes wrong, I have his license plate number. :)

5. Does time of year or time of day effect your answer?

Not as such. Other than the fact that my typical environment has already affected how I'd react through the whole thing.

Once, at a previous job, I was driving 30 minutes to a downtown location every morning at about 5 AM. One Saturday morning, my former car broke down by the side of the road, the electrical system completely crapping out. I had no cell phone and it was a couple mile walk to the nearest gas/station or pay phone. And it was that time of year when it was still dark then. And there wasn't really anyone to ask for help since as you can guess, Saturday at 5 AM isn't exactly a prime traffic time.

But I got very lucky and someone stopped and offered me a ride to the gas station so that I could call for a tow. It wasn't much, but it meant the world to me. I couldn't thank them enough, and I wish there was more I could have done. But they wanted to do it out of the kindness of their heart.

Someone took that chance on me, not knowing if I was a serial killer or just some poor jerk broken down on the freeway. It'd be kind of hypocritical if I didn't return the favor. Even if it isn't to the same person who helped me out.

By the way, the car issue did get me the day off work, and a trip to the Renaissance Festival with my friends. So, all in all, though I should have been pissed, the guy who picked me up really made that whole day a ton better than it should have been.

Bitter Little Boys

2006-12-12T13:38:00.000-08:00

The following is a response to my previous post...

Bitter Little Boys

I'm actually kind of speechless. I'm torn between apologizing for the way this particular post of mine made this other blogger feel... and trying to explain that I was simply trying to take a silly look at the difference in the way men's minds work.

A woman will tell you it's about chemistry, and whether it's there or not. It's an emotional response. If they're not emotionally into it, they'll tell you so. And it matters to them.

For a guy, it's more logical. Like a checklist. Does she have girl parts? Check. Do we have something in common to talk about? Check. Does she fit whatever ridiculous fetish-like obsession I have with hair color or breast size? Check. K, she meets the requirements, let's see where this thing goes.

It wasn't a post about me. It was supposed to be insightful to how a guy thinks... and maybe how his feelings might be hurt.

Please read Veronica's response and take that into your full consideration.

All I can do is direct you to the response and let you make your own call.

Male Perspective......

2006-12-11T09:12:00.000-08:00

A woman has a close male friend. This means that he is probably interested in her, which is why he hangs around so much. She sees him strictly as a friend. This always starts out with, you're a great guy, but I don't like you in that way.

This is roughly the equivalent for the guy of going to a job interview and the company saying, You have a great resume, you have all the qualifications we are looking for, but we're not going to hire you. We will, however, use your resume as the basis for comparison for all other applicants. But, we're going to hire somebody who is far less qualified and is probably an alcoholic. And if he doesn't work out, we'll hire somebody else, but still not you. In fact, we will never hire you. But we will call you from time to time to complain about the person that we hired.

Happiness is a Mental Disorder

2006-12-08T07:27:00.000-08:00

Let me get this out of the way. The last few days have been kind of miserable. My employer is moving to some new software systems that I was volunteered to be on the
testing team for.

And I have a long list of requirements I'm trying to meet because they want to make me one of two community managers for the internal website for our Coding department. It's kind of creepy to be considered to have "tech saavy" in a department of professional coders. It's also a hell of alot of work.

Yesterday was especially miserable (not that I'm looking forward to the 2 hour web ethics training video I have to watch this afternoon). But some of the testing systems are down so I'm sneaking in a quick blog while I wait for them to come back up.

Sssshhh. Don't tell.

In any event, I think alot. In what little time I had to myself yesterday I was thinking about an experiment that's been run multiple times with the same result. The long and short of it is testing depressed folks against non-depressed folks. They are placed at a station with a buzzer and a light bulb. As the light goes on they "win" more money. The catch is that the person in the station doesn't actually control whether the bulb goes on or off. Non-depressed folks would feel like they had control when they were winning and felt like they did not have control when they were losing money.

Depressives almost uniformly believed they had little or no control, regardless of the situation.

This came to be called "Depressive Realism." Read more about the phenomenon here.

(This is going to sound like a subject change, but bear with me....) One of the things that you hear alot in relationships is the old "If he really wanted to be with her, NOTHING would stop him from going to her." Thank you Greg Berehndt for attempting the move from comedy to pychotherapy.

That sort of thing isn't really true is it? If he was really the kind of guy she wanted to be with... honorable, respectful... there are things that could keep him from her. Military service, as an example.

When I was apart from Kim, Serena and I talked a single time about how we felt about each other. I told her I cared about her alot, but that because Kim had been there first, I owed her the first chance at me. That the situation between Kim and I had to finish before I was able to do anything differently. If I had any self-worth; any dignity; any ethical code whatsoever, that was the only answer I could have given.

No matter how much I cared for her, I couldn't go to her and be the kind of person that would have been good for her.

As we fast forward, and things started to take the shape they did, I thought about the chances I had given Kim, and that I could walk away with clear concious to try
something differently. Serena and I had continued the behaviors that were tying us together and it needed to be explored in some fashion. And Kim understood. Because there are things that prevent people from being together, even if they feel the world for each other.

Things may have been lies or misrepresentations on Serena's end, but I saw things through the way they needed to. I wish I had been allowed more time to grieve and be a complete mess. I don't think I'd have so much to work out now if that had been the case. But everyone wanted me to clean up, be positive, etc.

And that's where we get back to depressive realism. Sometimes, the world presents a culture where the ONLY acceptable way to behave is positive, optimistic, energetic. If you're not these things, something's wrong with you.

Historically speaking, although depressives (then termed melancholics) were seen to be a little off, and some measures taken to assure their well-being, they were
considered to be empathic, brilliant, and charismatic. Would that in today's world, someone would say to us that we are suffering under the brunt of our genius rather than being chemically imbalanced.

Maybe if depressives see and interact with the world around them in more realistic ways, being happy is really the mental disorder. Happiness is simply an inflated
sense of control and self-worth that leads to impaired judgement that prevents you from acquiring a realistic understanding of their physical and social environment.

Major affective disorder, pleasant type.

The truth is there's nothing wrong with happiness, I'm just trying to illustrate the point of this excessively wrong and rambling essay.

There is as little wrong with being depressed as there is about being happy. They are feelings we all have to work through. Sure, there are times when one can go to far, in either direction and they need help to bring them back to a cleaner sense of the world around them.

The problem is a culture that defines things. Our culture says that if you love someone, nothing can keep you from them. And that's not true.

So no matter what people say, sometimes you just have to reason things out for yourself. Find your own balance because balance is the only way to navigate what you need to do.

Just because everyone else is doing it doesn't mean it's right for you.

Or for that matter, right for them either.

-----------------------

From the comments, I'm realizing this is long and rambly, so let me sum up:

People will tell you whatever. Our culture says things about love, about happiness, about whatever. And if you, for some reason, have a personality that clashes with those expectations, or think differently, or what not, we will medicate you, send you to therapy, etc.

We all aren't happy. Or in love. Or whatever. But really, that's OK as long as we can still function the way we need to. It's OK to feel or do what you feel is right as long as your not hurting yourself or others.

Getting along is one thing. Everyone popping prozac because they're a little down, driving an SUV, living in the same split level house in the suburbs bothers me. We're not all alike, and we should stop pretending there is such a thing as "normal".

Change of Plans

2006-12-07T10:22:00.000-08:00

So I was writing a long and involved piece about Self-Awareness and Depression and it was pretty good. I finally had a break in the crazy schedule here at work for the last week as the system I'm testing completely crashed out.

So, I took a break and took myself to lunch. Over lunch I stopped at Best Buy. Big mistake.

Dungeons and Dragons the Animated Series is out on DVD. And it is mine. My glee is seeping out into the world around me.

This, Thundarr the Barbarian, and GIJoe shaped me as a child. You know, back when Saturday monring cartoons were filled with violence and apocalyptic futures and mask-wearing terrorists.

Oh, 1984, how I miss thee.

---------------------------

Comments

2006-11-30T09:02:00.000-08:00

Cooper sent me a lovely email. Taking me to task about the comments. And she was right.

Sometimes when you're so down you get in a place where you turn off things that are said to you, especially positive things. Sometimes you hear so much positive that it doesn't register anymore... like if you say the same word so many times it loses its meaning.

And I like you guys so much I didn't want to disrespect you that way. You deserve better treatment.

Like me turning the comments back on and letting you say what you need too, and listening to what you have to say.

Thanks Cooper.

Explanations and Examinations

2006-11-29T09:50:00.000-08:00

Something of an update.

First of all, thanks to those few who've sent me comments through various means. Yes, comments are off here. Sometimes you just can't hear positive stuff, and it gets old. But I do appreciate that you've taken the time to think about me. I haven't gotten back to everyone directly yet but I will.

Because your time, concern, and effort does matter to me a great deal.

I guess I wanted to explain better why I've been so down, and why it's affecting me so badly.

Probably the second time ever I saw my therapist he noted immediately that I was always in control of things; that logic always won out over my heart. That in the great euphemism for problem-solving, the imaginary wall, I was neither a climber nor a seracher for another way around... but a go through the wall kind of guy.

Which although it made me appear super when I conquered a problem, it left me battered about the head from going through the wall.

So I was supposed to not be the rock in the middle of the river, forcing it to flow around me... struggling against the weight and force of the inevitable... but to be more the stick on the river, carried where it takes me. See, fighting the river takes energy and time and you always end up losing anyway, so it's theoretically better to conserve the enrgy for when you need it, and just do the best you can with where the river takes you.

The other day I was helping someone I know who makes twice as much as me working on computers. They wanted to know how to take screen captures of Office products like Excel or Word without getting the whole of the screen, only what was on the printed page. There's a way to do it within windows without any fancy Picture software, and they knew I could do it because they saw me post just such a file in an open forum. This was something a trained pro never learned that lowly liberal arts me had to teach them.

I just busted my ass for three weeks prepping something for my group of people (guild) in the online game I play (WoW) and after presenting it to them I didn't receive a single comment. Not even a thanks for trying.

Since I started my new job in May I've literally spent the last 6 months cutting and pasting (other than running a 5 minute batch job once a day). In different programs, but basically the same thing over and over and over. And it's really burning me out because I feel like I'm capable of more, but I'm not given the chance.

I studied and studied something I thought was so important. And it was thrown directly thrown in everyone's face, on CNN as we all watched thousands die on 9/11. And the problem is only getting worse. My mental disorder will never allow me to work on the problem. No matter how much I study or know. I will fail to make any difference in the problem.

I comment on a number of female blogs. Mainly because there are so many more of you in the medium and you tend to be better writers than us. On one, one of the commenters was comparing the guys who commented on the blog as possible matches to the blogger. (Not that I personally am trying to be mind you, but others have made that effort.) But I was considered a not so good option at best.

Once, back in college, we were doing something of an experiment and surveyed a number of girls on our floor about scores in various things. I ranked dead last in personality and attractiveness, behind two guys who showered at best once a week no less.

In college I ran for President of the Student Association and was beaten in the race by a guy convicted of felony assault mere weeks after the election. Who during the election had called all theater majors "gay".

Serena chose to use me because I was convenient and it didn't matter what happened to me. Even if I treated her with respect, she knew I would never hurt her and that it didn't matter how she treated me. We still have mutual friends who won't say boo. Maybe I don't matter enough that someone would be willing to say "That was cruel and horrible. You shouldn't have treated him that way." Regardless of whether she would listen or hear them, I guess I matter so little it isn't worth saying.

With the whole Kim situation I was never good enough for their daughter until I had spent so many years fighting for it. Her sister's boyfriend was perfect right away. If I had been better, maybe what they thought of me might have mattered less. And now that they're positions have changed, I wonder why now? Now that it's ok with them, why does that make it more ok? When it's what someone else wants, I'm supposed to just go along happily now?

And no matter how much I loved her I was still a weak and pisspoor excuse for a boyfriend because of what happened with Serena.

My guy friends are going to Vegas again this year. That trip last year probably saved my life because I got away from what was ailing me... even for three days. And I found out that there was anger because I spent the money on it last year. And so now I'm bailing on my friends this year.

Yes. I feel more responsibility to others than most people do. I put pressure on myself to succeed and thrive.

And I constantly fail.

I used to feel bulletproof. Failure was an impetus to try harder. But the harder I try, the harder it seems to win. Go ahead and ask Kim. Ask her about the difference in my self-confidence and abilities now. She's known me for 15 years. She could tell you.

It becomes like something hanging from your nose. How long can you ignore people telling you something that you don't want to believe? But the more and more life tells it to you, eventually you get the message.

The truth is that I've never had anything better than a dead end job. That for some reason I've projected the worst possible aspects of myself, and that those have stuck. I failed Serena and Kim. I failed my little brother.

I failed everyone who ever meant anything to me. Including myself.

And I continue to do so.

I don't want to surrender to the tide, but sometimes it's too strong, even for me.

I watch people like Serena's folks live off of the hard work and charity of others and then bail on them when they're asked to give back. And I've watched Serena do it others. And no one ever calls them on it. It's exhausting watching others walk on water as you drown.

The only thing that I can think of is that I'm doing something wrong. And as the world is fond of pointing out, that's likely the case.

Like the stick on the river I've ceased fighting and this is what the river is telling me. So I have to learn to live with this situation as it is.

I just thought I was more prepared for it is all.

----------------

Roses -- Poets of the Fall

I've walked the distance, I paid my dues and tried to have a go at what I thought I knew was real, held no appeal
I've been to places, I've seen the tidings,
I bought a book of rules for every coin that I could steal
And so I came to gaze upon the stars, when they were yet unborn
And consequently, tear at my old scars, and the mask I had outworn

So when I'm crying alone
Yeah, when I'm cold as a dying stone

Grow me a garden of roses
Paint me the colors of sky and rain
Teach me to speak with their voices
Show me the way and I'll try again

Plastic Man

2006-11-16T13:00:00.000-08:00

I am having the worst day. It's probably been building for some weeks. I haven't been able to sleep.

Anyway, I get an email out of the blue asking how I possibly could have spent 50 hours on a single job code last month. Yes. 2 hours a day.

On a job that I was given to monitor every day.

Of course, not only was the email sent to me, but also to another coworker who is kind of responsible for the work (I say kind of because she did it, but is moving to a different department, so I'm doing all the work, they just still run it all through her. Anyhow, she comments that I should have just been doing day to day stuff... (ellipses hers, not mine, though I am fond of them.)

I explained that last month when she accidentally re-uploaded 17,000 documents and they had to shut the Pending Legislation upload system down for a state, that all the error files and newer uploads backed up behind them.... causing a bubble of work after they finally got deleted and I could actually do something with the new files.

That, and she had me train my own backup. Not a big deal, but it takes time. Oh, and the weeklong server crashes that doubled and tripled times on some uploads.

The funny thing is that I'm scheduled for about 35 hours a month on it anyway. All this over 30 minutes a day. Whoopee!

The thing that pisses me off the most is the idea of trust. If anyone else had the issue for ONE MONTH out of the 9 you'd been employed, and it was such a little jump, they would have just assumed something was screwy and let it go. For some reason not with me.

Last night I had to talk Kim out of believing she was invisible. She never gets to do the things she wants to do because she's waiting for me to do them with her. The truth of the matter is she spends 12 hours a day at work and chooses her employer over the things she enjoys and the people she cares about. I have sometimes 2 hours a night to make her believe she's important to me because that's when she has time for me.

With Serena, I had to try for so long to get people to see the truth, even though I had known them for twice as long, and had a history of being truthful and doing the right thing. One little thing she said put a kink in my relationships with others even though she basically said it and ran away. Because she knew what the truth was and she didn't want to face it. But I had to.

I am sick of trying to prove myself good enough to marry, good enough to relate to, good enough to trust. Just plain good enough.

I've slept between 3-5 hours a night for the last month. I don't have the energy to constantly prove myself over and over and over again right now.

I find myself getting over Serena by learning to hate her. And I don't want to hate her. Because that's not how I feel about her. It's not the truth and it's not right. It's a fake construct to trick my mind into feeling better about her actions. It's not right. It's avoidance.

I come home every day at a normal time, waiting for someone I'm trying to prove I care about to eventually feel the more responsible to me than to work. Even a day or two a week.

I'm sick of having had to teach myself everything at work, and take over people's responsibilities, and be picked apart on it. Over something so stupid as the exact number of minutes I used in a 30 day span.

It's like fuel in the body. I expend so much fuel because I travel so far for everything. If you never stop to get refueled, you just run out of gas next to life's highway somewhere.... waiting for some unwashed guy named Dwight to come tow you into the shop to get your busted parts fixed.

I have friends who are having a baby today. They were the kind of people who for a decade swore up and down they'd never have children. But when they got pregnant, no one so much as said boo about it... simply congratulating them and accepting their choices and their decision as their own that they reached in their own time in their own way. In a sense, we trusted that they had made the right decision because we trusted them. And for the record, they are going to be great parents.

Someday, on just one thing, I'd love to have that. To sit and play a computer game for 2 hours without it meaning I'm ignoring the world. To spend 30 mintues a day helping to clean up a giant mess because I want to have more responsibility, and have it simply mean that I helped and that I'm part of the team. About my choices mattering.

You want to see stress crash a bipolar? Here you go.

More proof that biology is stronger than even the most stable of us. Science can be stronger than faith.

I'm sure I'll be fine again in a few days once I pull my head out of my ass. I always do. But for awhile, I'm just going to be down.

OK?

----------------------

I am a plastic man. Wish I could be the one you could be proud of.
I'm losing heart again. Wish I could show you what you think I'm made of.
Someday I know I'll find my place.
Someday I know this pain will fade.

I am a perfect sale, just wrap me up with your bow and flowers.
I will neglect to tell, I'll sell your story that we love each other.
Someday I know I'll find my place, someday I know this pain will fade.
Someday I know I'll find my place, someday I'll sing my last refrain.

Why don't you let me be, and I'll pretend I'm well.
'Cause you're too blind to see, and I'm too tired to tell.
And in your apathy, your head begins to swell.
Another tragedy, but you're too cold to feel.

Someday I know I'll find my place, someday I know this pain will fade.
Someday I know I'll find my place, someday I'll sing my last refrain.

-------------------------

Back in the Saddle

2006-11-14T07:18:00.000-08:00

Now that Politicians have won power in sweeping Novmeber victories I can return to my regularly scheduled half-hearted attempts to be funny and self-deprecating.

Did you know that women burn an average of 27 calories during an orgasm?

And that faking an orgasm burns 160 calories?

I guess that means I've been helping women lose weight.

Election Thoughts

2006-11-07T20:53:00.000-08:00

Just a couple thoughts at 11 pm my time about election results I've seen roll in...

Strict abortion ban in SD defeated. That's a win.

Gay marriage bans upheld and supported (though SD still somewhat in doubt), sometimes OVERWHELMINGLY. That's a loss.

Dems taking advantage of scandal and war disillusionment to retake control of the House; and maybe the Congress as a whole. Less of a win or a loss really, as much as an indicator about the mood of the country. The next Presidential election is shaping up to be a doozy.

But there is one story that you might not hear, even though it may become international news.

Keith Ellison wins handily in Minnesota's 5th District as a Democrat. One man out of 435...

Why is that so important?

Ellison is Muslim. And the first one EVER elected to the US Congress.

Election Day

2006-11-07T06:59:00.001-08:00

Thanks everyone for the conversation and discussion. One of the things this country forgets so much is that even with disparate views we can still treat each other with respect. The idea of hating something because it has a particular label, whether that be that of a political party, a race, a sexual orientation, or whatever.

In the end, there's a few points I'm trying to make.

First, everyone should be held accocuntable for what they say and do. And they should have the testes to be held accountable for what they say. The people in our past and our present who we respect the most are the ones who have the cajones to say, 'Yeah, I said that, and that's what I meant,' even when it's isn't a popular sentiment. Or owning up to the fact that you made a gaffe, and that all of our military officers have college degrees, and a chunk of our military exists on the fact that that's how some very bright folks need to get money to go to college makes them 'underpriveleged', not lazy or stupid.

Sometimes, it's less about a matter of hard work, and more about who you know and what advantages you have someone else had to work for -- see both Bush and Kerry here.

Second, the political process tends to cut out qualified candidates. No one who'd actually be good at the job would last long doing it. And hell if they'd ever actually get elected. If we had a Presidential candidate who was all about honesty and integrity and such, how long would they last in our system? It would chew them up and spit them out. Our great size requires so much money to be spent to reach people and now that media is everywhere and instantaneous we elect people with more charisma and media savvy than brains -- why do you think Bush beat Gore? Strength of service? Intelligence? No, because Gore is a robot and you need to have some personality in order to be the face on CNN. Not that Gore's complete lack of personality would have served the country well as our cheif representative to other world leaders. Shit in one hand... shit in the other.

Any talk of the parties being fundamentally different is ridiculous. Both are trying to espouse ideas that appeal to the most Americans. Hence, they tend to say alot of the same things. They end up being little more than money-making machines to pay the staggering costs of campaigning. And yet, people will get in gang-fights over blue vs. red.

Third, since 1781 and the Constitution, there has only been one argument that has come back again and again in this country. Abortion and gay marriage are the slavery of our time. 50% of the people in the country feel one way, and the other 50% feel another. It's about lifestyle, not about right and wrong. Once any sort of common sense is applied, the issue falls apart. Even if I would personally never abort a child and would try to convince others not to because I know someone who would love to adopt, the sheer fact that before abortions were legalized, 100,000s of women a year would die trying to get one, and now we're down to less than a 100 means that there is a greater purpose there. As for gay marriage, how does it affect me? Are they going to make me gay? Will I pay more in taxes? Um, no. So from a strictly logical standpoint, who the fuck cares?

They're the kind of things in 50 or a 100 years we'll look back at and wonder why it was so divisive. Kind of like slavery.

The one argument that won't go away is whether or not we should be involved in foreign places. Every war. Every major international incident. Should the US be involved or not?

See, what happened is we founded this country because we wanted to be away from the Old World as it were... to break from the problems therein and build our own lives completely seperate. This country was founded on the principles of non-involvement and letting the rest of the world go to hell in a handbasket.

But the world comes calling anyway. Every war we've ever been in. Two sides. We have no right to involve ourselves vs. it's the right thing to do for for a safer saner world. EVERY WAR. EVERY TIME. Calls for staying the course and doing the right thing versus bringing our soldiers home to safety to protect the thing that matters most; home.

We can't be involved in Iraq without being involved in Darfur, the Balkans, SE Asia. On the other hand, if we don't involve ourselves at all, people suffer and die at the hands of evil men. And make no mistake, there are people who enjoy torturing and starving others.

And the problem is there's really no right answer. Each carries its own risks and rewards. Is there a point to removing men like Saddam from power? Without a doubt. Ask the Kurds and the Shi'ites in Iraq slaughtered like cattle. On the other hand, is it worth our resources and our effort just because we've made ourselves prosperous? Shouldn't we be feeding and clothing and making life better here at home for all of us with the fruit of our own labors? Shouldn't people in trouble have a hand in making their own world and deciding for themselves how they want to live, even if it's under someone we can't stand? Also, without a doubt.

The one thing in this country that is missing is discourse. Reasoned conversation fueled by respect and realizing that the only right answers are the ones we find in hindsight.

And that's what election day is for me. Simply a chance to add my voice to the 200 years of conversation in this country, on issues both of our time and of our collective history. I don't mark it as a duty, or a requirement. I mark it as a privilege.

So, get out there and vote.

Hey, if nothing else, at least you get a cool sticker.

Kerry's Comments

2006-11-02T07:57:00.000-08:00

"[If] you study hard, you do your homework and you make an effort to be smart, you can do well. And if you don't, you get stuck in Iraq."

I've been avoiding commenting, probably because I was, and still am, trying to wrap my head around it.

Mainly because there's no way any sane human being can construe that as a badly worded jab at the President. I mean, I'm all for directly saying whatever it is you have to say. If Kerry wanted to make a jab at the President he should have mentioned him and gone right for him. This remark is what it is, no more and no less.

But I suppose this is something to be expected from someone who's Purple Heart came from a self-inflicted accidental injury and someone whose military brothers thought him unfit. If you can't trust the guy in the foxhole next to you, who can you trust? (Yes I know full well that Kerry was on a boat, but the adage holds...)

Want to know something tricky about wartime presidents?

Lincoln? Wilson? Roosevelt?

Never served in the armed forces.

I'm going to let you in on a secret. I'm actually a big fan of George Orwell. He can say what I have to say better than I can.

All the war-propaganda, all the screaming and lies and hatred, comes invariably from people who are not fighting.

People sleep peaceably in their beds at night only because rough men stand ready to do violence on their behalf.

Thanks MN 34th Infantry Division (National Guard) for your reply.

Pissing on soldiers and cops who stand ready to die for your safety and the freedom and lives of others both at home and in some godforsaken place halfway around the world is the most solidly inhumane and idiotic thing that for some reason, people feel the need to do. The only reason you have the freedom to say gutless, cowardly things is because men and women of courage and conviction protect your right to do so.

Now maybe Democrats can see that the reason they were never able to beat Bush was more a function of the two seriously deficient candidates they put up against him rather than any true American Desire to be led by the Village Idiot.

Think about it. After the economic success of the Clinton years, how did a Republican win office? One of the first times in American History that such growth was responded to by kicking the party responsible out of office, no less.

Oh, that's right. Alot of folks didn't really have a better choice.

Happy Halloween

2006-10-31T12:37:00.000-08:00

I continue to have technical difficulties with the post I want to do. My frustration with blogger grows a little each day. :) However, I cannot allow my favorite holiday to pass without comment.

On a couple of blogs, I've noted something I've been wondering about costumes at Halloween. And I'm going to take further ownership of it by congnating on it in my blog.

Many Halloween traditions stem from the Celtic holiday of Samhain, or Summer's End. Traditionally, it is a time when the veil between the physical and spirit worlds is thin. Souls may pass freely back and forth. The wearing of scary costumes was originally used to scare away those souls that may mean harm. Yet in spite of the costume, the spirits that know you will still be able to find you and visit.

Hence, to frighten off vampires and such, you would dress up as one to trick them into thinking you were one of them, or frighten them away.

So, my question is, why is everyone so scared of sluts?

Take a look at available costumes for women if you're missing the connection. French maids, cheerleaders, pirate girls, protitutes, etc.

Crossing over indeed, John Edwards.

History Has Lessons for Us

2006-10-25T10:03:00.000-07:00

I just picked up a new book called "Lincoln's Melancholy" about his struggles with depression. Rather than simply focusing on whether or not he was depressed, it focuses on how he turned that sentiment into the fuel driving his success rather than limiting him.

I barely want to put it down.

I thought I'd share a paragraph of it... and recommend finding it at a library, friend's house, or wherever... especially if you want a picture of someone who not only lived with mental illness, but embraced it as an essential part of his character and fed on it rather than letting it hold him back.

It is striking how Lincoln's dim pessimism could give way to supreme confidence. This, too, was consistent with his melancholy character, which gave a person access to deep channels of the soul -- the waters of sadness, the bedrock of constancy, the gold of mirth. Because he felt deeper and thought harder than others, Lincoln could be expected to alternate among states more quickly, returning, more often than not, to sadness, disquiet, perturbation, and gloom. After his first few years in Springfield, Lincoln told Herndon he felt destined to be a great man. At the same time, he said that he feared that he would come to ruin.

I couldn't explain it any better than that.

Why I Love Vanilla

2006-10-19T07:33:00.000-07:00

It appears my word choice in my previous post struck a chord.

I originally wanted to use the word "normal", however such use of the word is banned by the Geneva Convention on Bipolar Disorder, 1909.

My main point was to try to insinuate that some of the problems and choices I made were a direct result of how much I dislike myself... and how that dislike is given off like an aura to others.

And second, that this type of feeling was something everyone had.

Of course, I could have just said it all this way and had a very short post. :)

Hmmm. Word choice. What word could I have used?

Average

Synonyms: normal, boilerplate*, common, commonplace, customary, everyday, fair, familiar, garden*, garden-variety*, general, humdrum*, intermediate, mainstream, mediocre, medium, middling, moderate, nowhere*, ordinary, passable, plastic*, regular, run-of-the-mill, so-so*, standard, tolerable, typical, undistinguished, unexceptional, usual, vanilla, white bread

I love vanilla.

Law of Averages

2006-10-16T09:11:00.000-07:00

I tend to be a keen observer of people.

Even if I'm not so good at monitoring myself.

I've been toying with an idea in my head, rolling it around in off-times, trying to fully form it out in my own mind.

Because I'm trying to get better. I get better by understanding things, and then filing them away. It's like a large library inside my head, and when there's even a single book out of place I get off-kilter trying to find it and put it back in place.

Which may seem obsessive, I admit. But it's the way I function. Which I can accept.

I watch alot of bipolars convince themselves they aren't good enough. All of us seem to have severe self-esteem issues. Maybe some of it comes from being able to accomplish the impossible and within 24 hours being unable to manage the simplest tasks. Knowing what we are capable of and being completely unable to meet that I think gives us a completely altered sense of self. Of course, our disease tends to come from a parent, and when they have the same issue we do, that's transferred. Not to mention the kinds of situations we can find ourselves in making mistakes repeatedly in really bad situations. It all adds up.

I think my inability to deal with situations has stemmed directly from this lack of self-esteem. When Kim sent me off, why didn't I say "Sure, fuck it, I'm done?" Or even "Hell no, this is unacceptable to me." Because I didn't believe I was good enough for anyone else. Because I didn't believe I was worth enough to make any demands for myself.

Why didn't I tell anyone what was going on with Serena earlier? Because I felt I didn't deserve anyone's honesty or that they'd tell me I deserved better when I was so sure I didn't.

Because I was feeling like shit, and being made to feel like shit felt comfortable.

Why am I having so much trouble just saying I deserved better treatment than Serena gave and I deserve to be happy? Because there's a large part of me that doesn't believe it. That wants to say I fucked up and take all the blame. When everyone can see that she lied and bailed on everyone at the same time... that it was just her path and her choice and that it had little or nothing to do with any feeling, real or not, that she actually had for me. The distance she moved to get away and the time invested in me say otherwise.

Their choices made me feel more worthless than I had already convinced myself that I was.

And in many ways, this beating myself up gets in the way alot of trying to rebuild what was a very good relationship. Because I'm always beating myself up, believing I'm not worth it. Even if it's a good thing for both Kim and I.

I was going to fill out a meme the other day and stopped myself since it asked when the last time I was hit on was. And I was too embarrassed to answer never.

While that feels like a failure, it's just the way I present myself that keeps others at arms length. I'm prickly, and appear to be taken... even if just for the monastery, so why would anyone approach even if they were intrigued? There's something to be said for taking responsiblity for your own actions.

But sometimes you can go too far, and start blaming yourself for everything. Even when everything isn't necessarily your fault. Which I guess this past year of blogging has been. My brain trying to point out to myself that even though I was involved and made choices and am willing to take responsibility for those, I'm not responsible for everything. That not everything is my fault.

Even if that's how I feel sometimes.

We like to feel worthless when other people put us in situations that we can do nothing but fail in. I know I have to do a better job of knowing that sometimes other people make us feel worthless because that's the only way they can feel better about themselves.

My worth has nothing to with how much I bend over for others.

I'm only as worthless as I allow myself to feel. Do I have problems, issues? Sure. But no more and no less than anyone else.

I'm not worthless. I'm just average.

Random Musings

2006-10-06T11:35:00.000-07:00

Today is going to be about random notes. Why?

Because I have what I think is a brilliant idea for a blog post... but I have been way too lazy and depressed to actually follow through on the idea since it involves both pictures and the spoken word.

Word.

And because nothing of true import has happened this week that I feel like wasting your precious time with.

Speaking of internet pictures, I've gotten into watching the webisodes of "Chasing Windmills," a video blog series being made right here in the Twin Cities, USA. Although it shows my city in a good light, it's a little more harsh with it's inhabitants. Thanks to Amber for being cool enough to not only be on my blogroll, but to be participating.

It's always interesting to see local bands, local movies (Aurora Borealis new this week), etc. It's all just a slice of home.

Also speaking of depression, I'll be spending the evening drinking with my friends. Which usually goes way too far and requires the rest of the weekend to recover. In Vegas, at Coyote Ugly... well, that story is elsewhere on the blog.

However, celebrating home and such, all bloggers who find me tonight while I'm out are entitled to one free drink. Simply mention this ad and where I can find you on the net, and receive the drink of your choice. However, knowing some of the bars we frequent, that can be more of a threat than a reward. Although, if we've already gone multiple rounds of shots, you may be able to sneak more than one out of me.

I am also in possession of two tickets to Spamalot, which I came into two days before they go on sale to the general public. I'm also $150 bucks poorer (and that's the corporate discount rate). There damn well better be Knights who say Ni or I'm going to be pissed.

Hockey season started a couple of days ago and I can't wait for baseball season to end. 'Specially since we'll have to wade through all the game-watching fools tonight and all the women dolled up to catch their Nascar lover.

Anyway, if you've stayed all the way through the rambling, I apologize profusely, I promise to return with something better as soon as I can.

As a reward, here's a little piece of advice. Directly from dan to you:

If you can't follow your heart..

Be sure to at least follow some other major organ.

Masterpiece Resumes

2006-10-02T06:47:00.000-07:00

Today, I have another guest post at Courting Destiny. I'm going ahead and cross posting it here for posterity. :)

------------------

Maybe it's just that I've been watching too much TV for the past week... but have you ever wondered why people are so obsessed with relationships?

I'm not talking just the stereotypical water-cooler talk about which soap opera character is currently sleeping with three different men...

I'm talking blogs talking about detailed sexual histories. Relationship books. True romance magazines. Penthouse letters. I'm talking about the guy who wrote a completely inaccurate book about Men not being that into you that has his own TV show. I'm talking about the umpteenth attempt of some woman to prove a completely unsuitable man is the father of her child. Or it's cheating cousins on Jerry Springer.

Whatever it is, we are obsessed with people's relationships.

Of course, I have a theory as to why this is. And this may be that unfortunate quarter spent studying accounting talking. Past performance is an indicator of future returns.

We're obsessed because we like to look at other couples and say, "Oh, my man acts exactly like that." And we roll that forward into the future. That's probably also why we have to make our own mistakes in love... because otherwise we never learn.

But it goes deeper than that.

Before we get involved with someone, one of the keys is finding out their complete relationship history. How many people have they slept with? Have they been married? Kids?

Sure, it shouldn't matter. If two people want to be together enough, their pasts are just that. Their pasts. But it's like a realtionship resume.

If he's been with a million girls, chances are he doesn't see you any differently. If she's only been in three relationships, none of which have lasted less than 3 years, she's going to be attached to you like glue.

Kind of gives a whole new perspective on references and calling the previous employer, doesn't it?

We're obsessed because no matter what book publishers and Oprah would have you believe, there's no particular logic to who falls in love and why. No matter how much we want to stop and think about things, and make decisions with our minds for our own good... alot of times we don't.

If you'll excuse the metaphor, it continues to hold the more you examine it.

People with too much experience may cost to much to hire, or may be moving from employer to employer with no thought for anything but themselves. Of course, if they don't have enough experience, you wonder if they can even do the job.

Extracurricular activities can help or harm you; depending on who's looking at your resume and what the job description they're hiring for is.

There are things that you just leave off a resume, no matter how accurate they are, or important to your experience they were.

The best ones show management potential.

You're not supposed to include your race, gender, or age. But they're more important than they should be.

And remembering all the details that should be on your resume is hard when you sit down to figure it out; and only important when you're looking for a job. When you're happily employed, the resume itself is less important.

My resume?

Really sparse actually.

I wonder if there's someone I can pay to spruce it up.

Wait a second.

Stressors and Other Bipolarity

2006-09-29T08:24:00.000-07:00

Good morning team internet.

Sorry I haven't been around lately. Work suddenly got crazy on me and has kicked my sorry ass for two weeks straight. I worked for about 10 hours last Sunday, although at least I got to watch a little football while plugging away on my labtop.

It doesn't help that I've been just completely down for just as long. I've had a ton of thoughts on my mind, emails I haven't answered, supportive comments I haven't left.

I did write what I think is a pretty stellar second guest post for Pia. I probably should go back and post my guest posts here so that anyone who didn't get to see them can find them here. And I'm still alive and breathing and as of now, not creating more debt.

Necessity wins out over depression.

You know what the hardest part of depression is? When I look back at my last post about being the last guy left on earth, it's kind of passive aggressive. I mean, at least to myself. Beyond the funny, there's a darker side. One that's saying that I think that if I was the last guy left on the planet with 3 billion women the best I could hope for is watching girls make out with each other since they wouldn't be making out with me.

If I was a real man, the joke would have been about a threesome.

Hmm. Funny and self-loathing. Maybe a career in stand-up comedy might still be in the cards. I even have a schtick to make me stand out from other comedians.

I openly admit that I'm mental.

Dying Slowly

2006-09-22T12:52:00.000-07:00

Last Man Standing

2006-09-18T12:22:00.000-07:00

Have you seen that commercial where there's only one guy left on Earth? And he smells, so no woman will have anything to do with him anyway?

Other than the obvious truth of that rough commercial statement, I had another thought.

I wouldn't mind being the last guy left on Earth. I bet I'd get to see lots of chicks making out with each other.

Finding the Good Book

2006-09-15T11:45:00.000-07:00

Heavy

2006-09-13T07:41:00.000-07:00

I watch the time go rushing by it's like an ocean wave
Showing you no mercy throwing dirt upon your grave
You're drowning in the darkness and you're blinded by the light
And there ain't no prayer that's gonna save you now

Contrary to the way I present myself, I am, in fact, still very, very bipolar.

I have just had the worst four days mood-wise in a long time. I started feeling a little down on Friday. No big deal, I've dealt with that pretty well over the last year. I was signed up to go to an annual event with Kim's dad where they shoot guns to sight them in for the coming deer season.

Not being a big deer hunter, and a depressive bipolar, guns aren't exactly at the top of my list of toys. I know how to use them. And well, I might add. But in my situation, that can be more temptation sometimes than I need.

In any event, after the shoot-in, back at their home, Kim's dad, his two brothers, and Kim's sister's husband were talking about deer season. Kind of out of nowhere, Kim's dad says he likes son-in-laws and that he'd like another. He asked if I was going to be the next one.

I wanted to scream at him that not only had I asked his daughter, but I had asked him as well. And they had both said no, so that was a little unlikely. I made a joke instead.

For god's sake, they know about everything because Kim told them. Not that I didn't have enough trouble, I've been trying to prove to them I really am a decent human being, and seemingly have been forever.

But it's been weighing on me for days.

It didn't help I took vacation on Monday and Tuesday so I sat and let it eat at me. I didn't have anything to keep me busy.

Then, I ran across an online program for Master's Degrees. Not only could I finish mine, there is a private school associated with the military with connections in intelligence that could get me back on track with what I wanted to do with my life.

Problem is, their program that I would need to be in is in what Serena chose as her program, international diplomacy, law, and conflict resolution. (The program has a minor curricular emphasis on terrorism.) But I've sat here for two days unable to face it because of it's connection to her.

It's one of those times that mood and circumstance conspire to test you.

I'm tired. Just tired.

Complicate this world you wrapped for me
I'm acquainted with your suffering

And all your weight
It falls on me
It brings me down
And all your weight
It falls on me
It falls on me

Hold me up to all whom you've deceived
Promises you break you still believe

Time was supposed to heal the wounds. I'm still waiting.

*Be sure to check out the guest post I wrote for Courting Destiny during happier times when it appears tomorrow, September 14.

2996

2006-09-11T10:00:00.000-07:00

*2996 is a coalition of volunteer bloggers brought together by D.C.Roe's idea to commemorate the lives of those killed in the terrorist attacks of September 11, 2001. For a complete list of participants, please click HERE.

Terence J. Manning was the kind of guy who always had a quick smile for everybody. You know the ones, the kind of people for whom everyday life is an adventure.

'Terry' lived with his family in Point Lookout, on Long Island in New York, a trendy and clean neighborhood on the Atlantic Ocean. So close, in fact, that he would take his two daughters, Mairhead (now 6) and Trinity (now 4) just down the street to play at the beach every day that the weather cooperated.

Always the consummate risk-taker, Terry made his life a never-ending series of adventures: skiing in the Alps, proposing to his wife Megan at the Eiffel Tower, taking a cross-country motorcycle trip with her, and persuading his brothers to not only run the entire New York City marathon with him, but also convincing them they should cross the finish line together, holding hands.

He was the kind of guy who overcame every obstacle. And even if there were no obstacles, gave himself something to strive for by challenging himself to go outside of his normal constraints. He began his career as a trader in New York, but when that lost its challenge for him, he decided he wanted to learn computer consulting.

So he gave up his job, learned the business of computers, and made the change. Just like that. He risked on his belief in himself. And he accomplshed it.

It was his new job at ARC Partners on Park Avenue in New York that brought him to a conference being held at the World Trade Center in September.

Looking at a list of those lost that day it's hard not to see a meaningless jumble of names. At a memorial site, a former high school classmate remembered Terry as tall, lanky, reserved, and thoughtful.

In those words, in that life, I find a sort of kindred spirit in Terry. A soul that I once was, of seeking out challenges and overcoming all obstacles. A person of similar build and similar temprement. Someone, who though reserved and thoughtful, found expression in smiles shared with those he loved.

In the New York Times, his wife said of him "His life was full of laughter and adventure. He left us with no regrets."

In this kind of life, we can find much to learn from. Of never being afraid, of living each day to its fullest. Not because you may not have tomorrow, but just because today is good enough to deserve every bit of your effort.

Amelia Earhart once said, "Courage is the price that Life exacts for granting peace, The soul that knows it not, knows no release from little things."

Thanks Terry. For explaining to me what she meant.

Men are Fruity

2006-09-06T07:31:00.001-07:00

Twice a week, my employer gives out free fruit. While examining it before a well-deserved eating I had a thought. A noticing of metaphor if you will.

To women, men are like fruit.

There's usually a whole stack of them hanging out together, but it's really only one of them that you want. You just aren't sure which one.

You pick them up one at a time, and give them a try to determine if they're the one you want.

You test the fruit repeatedly, checking to see if it's the perfect example of its kind. And you throw perfectly servicable ones back on the pile in your quest to find the one that's absolutely perfect.

You're looking for something soft, but if it's not firm enough it's rotten. And if it's too firm, it hurts.

When, after an inordinate time spent searching, you find the perfect one... you take it home and want to turn it into fruit salad or jam or pie rather than just enjoying the piece of fruit for what it is.

And if for some reason, the fruit gets a little spotted or old, you have no reason not to toss it aside and find a new one because there's always more on the pile.

Does the metaphor hold up when exmained from the male side?

Sure it does.

All any of us wants is for someone to take us home and eat us just the way we are.

The Nature of Pal-dom

2006-09-02T08:00:00.000-07:00

Yesterday one of my very best friends told me something I never would have believed. They trusted me and sought my advice on how to handle a situation that not only I was unaware of, but never in a million years would have guessed was the case.

Serena and I made a deal the first time we were together to not talk to anyone about it. That it was something that was just for us.

If I would have just talked to someone about it. If I would have just trusted a friend to advise or listen. If I had just told the truth to someone so much earlier. How much pain could I have saved everyone?

I should have trusted my friends to help me.

Personal Cinema #2

2006-08-31T07:25:00.000-07:00

Yesterday morning, Gene Simmons was interviewed on the morning show I listen to on the way to work. Gene, if you somehow weren't aware, plays the bass for KISS. Gene has been in a relationship with Shannon Tweed for over 20 years.

When asked about that, Gene told the morning show hosts that instead of promising himself to stay with her forever, that he'd saty with her as "long as I want to". And no longer. He allows her to live in his home. But it is HIS home. And as long as he wants to, he will share those things with her.

In a strange, arrogant way, there's a savage truth to that statement. Gene is the star of his own movie. And you're in his movie only as long as he wants you there.

Self-interest or self-protection? Arrogance or just blunt honesty?

When everything first came out with Serena and Kim (please read the Entanglements posts if this doesn't make sense) I asked a good friend who was married whether he would have stayed with his girl if she had said no when he asked her to marry him.

He said he wouldn't have.

I was begging to be a character in someone else's movie when they didn't want me to be in the cast. But like a young starlet I was willing to do anything, sacrifice anything to be a part of that film.

Because I didn't have one of my own.

When Serena continued to try to pull me away... I was willing to sacrifice all my friendships, the proximity of my relatives, and do anything to be with her.

But in her world, people had always bent over backwards to give her anything she needed. At 30, she still has a room in her parent's home that's just hers. She needed me to prove she could have whatever she wanted whenever she wanted it. Once she had that, there was no more role for me in her movie.

Sure, I was pursuing the things I wanted, but what I wanted was to be a part of someone else's show.

I always wanted to get down on one knee and surprise Kim with a ring. She never wanted a ring. The one I did get her she stopped wearing soon after I bought it for her. She hates diamonds. She finds the whole process impractical. Which, it is.

But it was important to me. But because it wasn't what she wanted, I edited it out.

I always find it fascinating how many people everyone can go through while they're looking for the perfect partner. And how easy it seems to let go and just move on with being happy if things don't work out.

How easy it can be to hate someone you professed to love.

But if it's your movie, then why would someone who doesn't deserve you be given a role? They shouldn't. No one should be allowed to affect you who does so in a negative way.

If this was my movie, I wouldn't still love Serena because she doesn't deserve it. I wouldn't let it get in the way of me being happy now, of trying to apologize and make up to Kim. Of rebuilding my friendships and life. I would "just get over it."

Films are art. My life is a textbook.

Cleanliness is Next to Godliness

2006-08-29T10:34:00.000-07:00

I know there was a different post scheduled for today. But I just finished the second of my guest posts. And my clever tank is low.

That and you know how you should wash your hands when you use the bathroom?

I just did. But the guy coming out of the stall didn't.

But what was weird was that he still went to the sink, and turned on the faucet. It was the cupping his hands and taking a drink or two that got to me more than the not washing his hands.

State of the Wasted Union

2006-08-28T10:20:00.000-07:00

First of all, thanks for the positive response to the blog changes. As for the criticisms, I am taking them into consideration and am doing some back end work to see what I like. The headers will almost 100% be changed back to something similar to the old style. If anything, I'm not liking I can barely see the post titles within the header. The basic font is larger, but it is a different, thinner font. Checking font families is harder than just changing the size. On the other hand, if you need more contrast, and are using IE, just go to your view option at the top, select text size, and make the text larger. Since the page resizes to fit the window this is an easy fix until I can figure out a better font family to use.

Second, in a bit of news, I'll be doing a couple of guest posts at unrealistically high-traffic blogs I heartily endorse, the Art of Getting By, and Courting Destiny. These are done in support of the owner's needs for vacation so how could I say no? I don't know when those will appear, and I've only submitted one so far as this is a recent development, but it is going on in the background.

And last, but definitely not least I've taken over administration of the bipolar webring from Jane. This is purely a time issue for Jane. She has so much other stuff going on that she asked me to make sure that the ring has the attention it needs.

Hmm. Sounds like I'm busy.

I better get back to it.

Welcome to the New Digs

2006-08-24T22:00:00.000-07:00

Still a kink or two to work out, but I have it on good authority from my beta testers this template is much better than the last one. Updated blog codes and such. New music section. Easier to update everything. Fits to the window. So, what do you think?

In any event, I'm going to try to get around to all my peeps today. News on Monday, and then continuing our movie discussion Tuesday. Sister is in town for the weekend, so instead of my ramblings, I'll leave you with the greatest song ever written.

Take it easy this weekend everybody.

Personal Cinema

2006-08-21T07:24:00.000-07:00

Yeah, go ahead and say it. I've been neglecting the blog lately. Oh sure, I could tell you that I missed two days of work last week due to that really bad illness I mentioned. (Everytime I get a little bit better I go back to bad habits which actually prevent the sickness from actually leaving.) And I'm fiddling with the idea of possibly changing templates. I like that it's kind of come to identify the site, but it is a little raggedy.

There's plenty to keep me busy in "real" life; as much as the life here is somehow less real than that one.

Which kind of explains what I'm pondering right now. The other day, Ombren introduced me to a concept in a book she was reading that got me thinking about the way I approach life.

In it, the author contends people should live their lives like they're the stars of their own movie. And I Kind of wonder whether most people live that way already.

How we can move from person to person or relationship to relationship, unaware of how what we do affects others. They're only minor characters... if we don't want them in the movie anymore, they're gone. We're concerned with the things that concern us.

This isn't to say selfish, just point of view. For example, Guy #1 and you no longer date. You move to Guy #2. In some sort of reality, it would be impossible to imagine sharing things you did and remembering everything all the time. But it just doesn't matter what Guy #1 is doing anymore because he's not part of your movie. Is this "moving on" or is is simply switching out characters? As long as the main character's story is progressing what do we care about the minor character who has no subplot?

I guess I've always kind of wondered that since I spend most of my day wondering what it would be like to be seeing the world through the eyes in someone else's head. You know, that time when you stop and think just long enough and you know that you're inside your head, looking out? What would it be like to see the world from someone else's perspective?

Kim would step up onto a stepstool and always be amazed how different the world looked from 8 inches higher.

When Ombren pointed out that analogy I knew I had figured out some of the things that had always been wrong. Why Serena needed to completely cut me out of her life (it ruined how she viewed the world... which ruined the setting of her movie, and wham!) and for Kim she never saw had her own issues with parents and self-esteem and decision-making (which concerns herself with her own characterization and since those things that I was offering didn't fit that view...). Jobs. How friends view what happened. Why my family can bitch at me for not calling often enough when they never call at all.

Everyone is just living out their lives as if they were the star of their own movie... doing the best they can to make the story of their life appear the way they want it to.

And for my entire life, I've been the subplot in somebody else's movie.

Get With the Program!

2006-08-15T13:37:00.000-07:00

I was in the process of writing something funny. Things have been busy here and I was going to regale you with something funny and witty to reward your patience.

But you know how that goes. Something else important comes up.

I don't know how much coverage this story got outside of Minnesota, so I'll share some details...

A motorist was stopped for a routine traffic violation. After telling the Elk River police he had no insurance (required in MN) he was booked and placed in a jail cell to await a hearing before a judge. That night, his cellmate beat him to death. The cellmate, Bruce Christenson,was in the process of being transferred to a different facility on an assault charge.

Yes, this is absolutely a horrible and tragic situation.

That would have been plenty. But you know what was revealed today? (And I think you do...)

Bruce Christenson was a manic depressive who told his father he was secretly spitting out his required medication.

What the hell is wrong with us bipolars, really? For Christ's sake, do what you have to do to get on the bandwagon and get better. Some people can do it through force of will, through technique, or through medicine. But get with your damn doctor and do what the hell he tells you to do.

Don't go on rampages, don't run from Air Marshals telling you to get down, don't go on binges. Take responsibility and do something to get yourself better.

I understand. I'm bipolar too. I know what it does, how it eats at you and leads you down dark paths to places no one would ever want to go.

You know the worst thing about it? Christenson's dad blamed the prison system. He contended that officials should have known the risks his son posed to the jail population and forced him to take his medication since he was never violent when he was taking it.

What the fuck happened to responsibility? Of owning up that it was you who spit out the damn meds and that someone had provided everything to you to take care of yourself?

It's your choice to do something about it, to take back your own life. This guy, who didn't want to take his meds ended up killing a relatively innocent human being with a family. Do you want that to be you?

'Cause I sure as hell don't want it to be me.

Alright, I'm going to go simmer down for a day or too. I don't need high blood pressure as well.

Have you.... the Ring?

2006-08-11T06:55:00.000-07:00

Bipolars call people without mental illness "normies".

I don't talk a whole lot about having the illness that I do. I try really, really hard to be dan first, bipolar second... focusing on day to day life and managing my illness by managing my stress and other real-world concerns; and through that, managing being bipolar.

But if you scroll all the way down to the bottom of my page here you'll find that I belong to a bipolar webring. Even if I don't throw it in your face, I do wear it on my sleeve.

Last year on August 1st, a very passionate and caring woman, Jane, started a webring for bipolar folks. About half a dozen or so of us gathered together to make a ring of support. You have no idea how hard it is sometimes to hear the same platitudes. Or maybe you do. But the idea of relating us together so that we can find support when we need it; and watch out for each other has been one of the greatest things many bipolar sufferers have found on the internet when they turn to blogging to deal with the highs and lows and our emotions.

Which makes Jane a bonafide genius.

Since that time a year ago, our little family has grown to 50 sites. I don't know of anyone on the ring who has the time any more to go to every single site all the time. Some of the faces have changed on the ring, just due to the nature of the internet and blogging in general. But that only provides an even greater network of support and variety of experience to draw from for all of us. It truly is greater than the sum of its parts.

So, a salute first to Jane. Thanks for creating this community, and thanks for inviting me.

And a salute to everyone on the ring. Bipolar disorder makes a lot of days for us a living hell. Knowing that you guys have my back, and that I can do good by standing behind you gives me strength to keep on... well, excuse the vernacular, but.... truckin'.

You all are a gift. Here's to the first year and many more.

I wonder if Jane would wear a Santa hat for Xmas?

Work Related Illness

2006-08-09T07:33:00.000-07:00

First off, I'd like to say thanks for all the concern. It appears to only be the mother of all colds hanging on... and on... and doing a number on my sinuses (which are pretty sensitive from the allergies anyway).

In any event, stress from the new job doesn't seem to be helping me get much better. (Or the fact that when I take a personal day, like yesterday, I sit and eat almost a bagful of miniature Almond Joys.)

Anyway, work is getting weirder and weirder by the day. Don't get me wrong, the company I work for is great; and the job I do is at least fairly interesting to me. But... well...

First of all, I rarely ever work for my own dpeartment. Because most legislatures are out of session until January, the time between Aug and Dec is fairly slow. My department is made up of half people who've been here forever, and half who've been here less than 9 months. The only people who always have work to do are the ones who have been here forever... I think they're hoarding everything that comes in so they have stuff to do all day. Since it has to pass through them to get to us anyway. All the other newer people keep asking me what I'm doing to keep myself busy during the day... I'm taking extra training classes and reading online documentation and such, trying to be more ready for when I finally do get work... One of the other newer girls told me she brings a book to work and reads most of the day right now.

Work goes so slowly when there's not much to do and what there is to do, they don't trust you to do.

So I get loaned alot to other people who need help. And I'm doing an unbelievable job. I caught 2 major errors in Rhode Island's statutes that no one had caught for years. A whole chapter of the code had been missing in print volumes for two years!

And I'm doing it faster and better... Another guy and me were working on that RI project. He was given 8 pages of details to correct, I was given 10. I finished a half day ahead of him; made no mistakes, AND completed another side project he didn't have. And I slowed down to make it not so obvious.

It's all about ability to learn and adapt quickly; and not being afraid to try things and make mistakes in order to learn to do things correctly. I'm not necessarily better; I just learn things so fast it looks like it sometimes.

Which leads to some frustration. I think I mentioned once before I got put in charge of something when I first got here. I oversee adding pending legislation to our database -- my poli sci background being my big win there I think -- so that people can see not only the law, but what is currently going through the system that might change that law.

The girl I'm taking over for (she's transferring to a different unit) is obsessed and takes it as a personal affront. You know the attachment to what's become personal projects? So she wants to sit with me every time I do the steps necessary (which, let's be honest, amounts to selecting a job from a dropdown menu and waiting for it to finish). Problem is, she's in 6 meetings a day and is at her desk maybe 30 minutes a day. When pray tell am I supposed to do this?

No one else has to have someone sit with them.

This is of course, after 30 days of me being able to do it alone and my department head asking me about Pending Legislation in meetings now. I think it's a re-eestablishment of control.

Though I grin and bear it; and do my best to just play along... it is frustrating.

I can do so much more. And no one will give me the chance. It's really defeating.

I think a glass of the free milk they give out here will make me feel better.

That is not What I Intended

2006-08-03T08:15:00.000-07:00

Last night from 2-3 I left a blood trail from the upstairs bathroom to the kitchen and back. From time to time I get nosebleeds if I'm stuck in air conditioning for a long time because it completely dries out the air and I have a sensitive schnoz.

This was the worst nosebleed I've ever had in my life. And in truth, I'm not sure if it was due to the dry air or this ongoing lung/sinus issue. Going to try to get better, see everyone in a couple of days.

Where I Belong -- Perfect Enemy

2006-08-02T10:00:00.000-07:00

I don't like doing too many of these since they seem like filler. But this band rocks the house. And in deference to comments on always choosing sad ones, and my recent dream state, I figured it was at least in line. And it was just loaded to YouTube, so I couldn't till now.

Rock it Loud.

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Ten long years
A thousand tears
And ever closer to our dream
Confront me
Attack me
Take your shot and set me free

I can feel the weight upon me
Can feel the pressure on me now
Maybe this ain't heaven but I know this is
Where I Belong

Violent pride
Peace of mind
You can't touch what you can't sign
Cross the line
Waste your time
Wishing you were as good as me

I can feel the weight upon me
Can feel the pressure on me now
Maybe this ain't heaven but I know this is
Where I Belong

I'm running away from you
Before you break me too

Look at us
All of us
It's enough to live the dream
We'll unite we'll defy
For a taste of immortality

I can feel the weight upon me
Can feel the pressure on me now
Maybe this ain't heaven but I know this is
Where I Belong
Where I Belong

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Find out more about Perfect Enemy on the Web Here

With Apologies...

2006-07-31T07:15:00.000-07:00

It has just been brought to my attention that I haven't posted in about a week. Which is unusual. Of course, in that same time, I haven't been my usual blog-reading self either.

So, in killing two birds with one stone, I figured I'd explain and update you on the past week.

I did Teppanyaki for a friend's birthday (the oriental cooking style where they cook at your table with all the chopping and corny puns you can handle -- And now... Butter fly). Then Tuesday, we celebrated a buddy finishing his BAR exam with a night of drinking and naked ladies.

Although I think that finding the "lounge" within two miles of their home might mean I don't see that batch of friends much anymore. Especially when there's no cover charge.

In any event, for the past couple of weeks, I've been sleeping like utter crap. And no, it's not just the triple digit heat index temps, even up here in sub-arctica. We have central air to take care of that. I'm waking up repeatedly all night long.

I wish I could tell you that I didn't know what was going on. But I do. I keep having this one dream. In my conscious mind, I don't want to be there, so it wakes me up... putting an end to the dream. Usually, this would restart the whole system and when I fell back asleep, I'd dream of something else. Perhaps a stalker jamming a straw in my belly button and sucking the air from my lungs (which is one of the few recurring dreams I actually have, don't ask).

But no. I start the exact same dream that I want no part of and wake up again.

So my subconscious mind has issues it's trying to deal with, and my conscious mind has made the decision they are dealt with. If I wasn't completely exhausted, it would actually be kind of funny.

And before you ask, because I know you... the dream is Serena trying to talk to me. My subconscious still feels the need to have something said. And my conscious mind has made up it's mind (so to speak) about whether I should even be listening. I really need to get my head screwed on straight.

Of course, just this weekend something nasty has invaded my lungs. Still unsure as to whether it's late summer allergies (maybe something re-blooming in the unusual heat) or if it's pneumonia. In either event, it isn't helping my sleep to be drowning in my own fluids.

But it is giving me a great movie voice-over voice.

Hotmail

2006-07-23T20:54:00.000-07:00

I tried setting my hotmail password to penis.

It said my password wasn't long enough.

Damn. I guess everbody knows.

Mass Marketing

2006-07-20T08:10:00.000-07:00

It's a strange thing, to think you are a completely different commodity on the internet than you are in real life.

And I'm not talking personality here. Anyone who knows me in real life knows that what you see here is pretty much what you get once I step outside the plastic and metal box on my desk. Sure, I may be a little taller in real life. But I say stupid things all the time; am generally quiet and introspective; and usually have no trouble at all letting you know how I feel on a given subject.

However, totally unlike my actual personality, suddenly I appear to be an expert and consummate ladies' man.

Yeah. I was shocked to learn of it too.

A marketing company offered me a year's subscription to a new dating site if I wrote about it on my blog. Out of the blue sent an email to my hotmail account and laid out the whole thing. Their new concept was activity-based dating... i.e. set up a kickball game of singles, say. And then see what happens. Even if you don't meet somebody, at least you've done something else fun.

Not a bad idea in theory. Really.

Having someone as inexperienced and unattractive as myself push it? Come on. That's like having Paul McCartney try to sell you Kentucky Fried Chicken. Or Pauly Shore sell Playgirl magazine. Girls like me fine in that friendly, 'oh he's a giant teddy bear who'd be great for all my friends just not me' sort of way.

Now, I would have thought this was an isolated instance of bad judgement on the part of someone who didn't know better based on the fact that once before I off-handedly mentioned online dating going awry at Trek-Passions.com.

I was wrong.

Someone just sent me a letter on MySpace, asking if I was seeing anyone and if she could set me up with her friends. My red flag immediately went up as I get all sorts of invitations to become MySpace friends with "girls with webcams".

I don't get that, by the way. Does every girl on MySpace have a webcam? And why do they all want to invite me to join their circle of friends? Are we going to have a topless pillow fight, just amongst us girls?

Anyhow, back on topic. This was different. This was a person with a normal profile and living just up the freeway in Saint Paul. Once I figured out what to say, I tried to nicely tell her that although I was flattered, I wasn't 'on the market' so to speak.

Since when did a committment-minded, 30 year old, 6'4" single guy who's educated, has a steady job, (a nice car?), and likes kids become a heterosexual girl's wet dream?

Oh right. That's the myth.

I'm going to tell you a secret. In my lifetime, 4 girls have shown interest. One of those was interested in not being alone, not in me. The others were from high school.

A poster boy for TAG or AXE I am not.

I can't sell what I don't know. But I am very good at product placement. ;)

Living it 80s Style

2006-07-18T07:24:00.000-07:00

As a belated birthday gift, two beautiful girls pitched in to buy me tickets to the concert tonight here in the Twin Cities.

While I'm away enjoying the live music, please enjoy the following short animated film.

Is that... Journey?

Back with a better post soon.

Mascot Fever

2006-07-14T07:05:00.000-07:00

I love a good philophical debate, don't you?

In any event, I promised a college story after I did my laundry this week. Well, here I am, freshly laundered (and smelling of Irish Spring if you care to know). Which means I have to follow through on my promise.

The other day, .Ophelia. posted an old cartoon that made me think of a story from my college days.

Firstly, you have to understand that although I am now a pretty boring and staid personality, back in college I was a rabble rouser. Well, in a boring and staid way. I wrote inflammatory articles in the college paper and basically went about making an all around ass out of myself.

My favorite was when someone (no it wasn't me) photoshoped my face from the paper on a five dollar bill, blew it up and hung posters all over campus with the words, "Where is your money?" Still get a chuckle over that. That and some classes on campus actually took a day off to discuss one of my articles. Not bad; a good stroke of the ego.

Anyway, returning to the story from my back-patting segue there, a number of us back when I first started college tried to change our little university's mascot to the "Snow Sharks". We were in Northern Minnesota... We put cardboard shark fins out in the snowbanks over the winter and cardboard swimmers out there too. We created t-shirts and were an crushing marketing wave taking over the hearts and minds of the student body. Unforutnately, the university and it's trustees didn't think the name was appropriate.

So, to this day they still introduce the women's basketball team as the Lady Beavers.

Go figure.

Eat Your Heart Out, Plato.

2006-07-12T22:19:00.000-07:00

If a man is talking in the woods and there are no women to hear him...

Is he still wrong?

The New Car

2006-07-10T16:25:00.000-07:00

Having worked on total losses for an insurance company, I have an idea of how car dealerships work. They set a retail price and if you're even halfway decent at standing firm, they'll sell you the car for only 100s over it's wholesale value. Why? Because they make money off of arranging financing (they get a cut of the percentage) and all the extras like warranties and such they sell. And they depend on volume. If the customer is happy, they are liekly to generate 3 additional customers.

I looked and looked for a truck. Everything I found was way more than I wanted to pay; or got such atrocious gas mileage that any savings I achieved would be gone within a year anyway.

So, three of my best guy friends all drive vehicles of the Pontiac family. In fact, I've taken a cross-country road trip with some of the "guys" in one so I knew I was comfortable. I looked around online and found some various units to test drive.

It was kind of late in their day on Friday. Unfortunately for me, I loved one when I drove it. So, even though it was white. I took it home.

I got it for a great price. I could take it to a different dealership and trade it in for at least as much as I paid for it, if not more. And the dealership offers me a "club card" which includes free oil changes for the life of the vehicle, discounts on gas, and, believe it or not, free massages.

Yes. Free massages.

It's funny because I've been driving a little four-banger for so long that I nearly cry when the car actually accelerates when I step on the gas. But even with the V6 I still get over 30 mpg.

It was about the nicest experience I've ever had buying a car.

The really funny thing is that back when I was working at the insurance company, we called Grand Ams "white trash sports cars."

Good thing I quit. :)

Anyway, another bonus of purchasing a new car is that I get to buy new plates. In Minnesota, we have variant plates that show that you've made a donation to state programs in a particular area, for example the environment.

When I get my new plates, this is what they'll look like. What this means is that I have made a contribution to state programs that support veterans of every war financially and also give financial assistance to the families of soldiers currently serving in the far-flung corners of the world.

Anyway, the best part of buying a new car? The dealership that I bought it from? Yeah. Other than all the other perks, they have the most juvenile and funny car commercials I have ever heard.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go grow in a mullet.