| Does Anyone Even Care Anymore? |
[Aug. 3rd, 2008|04:35 am] |
Our country is in serious trouble. It has nothing to do with the war in Iraq, our economy, or perceived or actual moral bankruptcy. Instead, we have a bankruptcy or another sort, namely, of courage. There are those that would say that we have courageous people who risk their lives everyday for this country in the form of military service, serving as a peace officer, or any number of other dangerous and low-paying jobs. However, I am not referring to these people - really, our lack of courage is in each of us that puts people into power who cannot resist graft.
It must be said that just about all of our politicians are cowards. If you include all of Congress (435 House + 100 Senate members) the Supreme Court (9 members) and the president, 545 people govern us all. These people have the awesome power of shaping the kind of policy that has the potential to make this an advanced society. Instead, these policy makers pass laws that have little to do helping an average citizen and have everything to do with appealing to lobbied interests. In essence, these esteemed people take a piece of dog shit, dip it in egg yoke, crust it in Shake and Bake and serve it to us. We eat it because we feel powerless against the kind of influence that is in Washington.
There are actions by government that seem to be for non-lobbied interests. One need look no further than the recent rebate checks that most of us received. While it may have seemed like it was to help you and I, in reality it was to help retailers, and large ones at that. How about Medicare and Medicaid? While I think these programs started off nobly, big medicine would hate to lose these programs because they would hate to have to foot the bill for medical care they are required to provide by law to indigents who could otherwise not pay outrageous medical bills.
Things have reached this dismal state of affairs (brought about by Democrats and Republicans equally) because Americans feel that there is nothing they can do to change the status quo. This is in contrast to how we once felt as a society. In the past we used to march, picket, and vote. Today, we try and pick the lesser of two evils. We assume that evil permeates our society and no amount of washing, even with bleach, will ever clean our politics. Admittedly, human nature precludes perfection in anything, and no political system is perfect. However, we have taken the best political system that mankind has ever stumbled upon and tainted it to such a degree it is on the verge of unpalatability.
One of our chief problems is that we feel powerless, more or less. Most of us do not feel like we are really in control of who is elected, and even further removed, what policies are adopted. We also believe that once a policy is adopted that it never can be changed. For example, most people think that an abortion ban could never come back to this country because of the Roe v. Wade decision. The simple fact of the matter is that courts, even the U.S. Supreme Court can reverse itself. For example, Plessy v. Ferguson adopted the doctrine of “Separate, but equal” in racially segregating facilities in 1896. Thankfully, the Supreme Court reversed itself less than 50 years later in Brown v. Board of Education in 1954. People should not be blamed in thinking that things cannot change because it indeed is difficult, and because there is some propaganda handed down through the generations that the Supreme Court’s ruling - especially on abortion - is definitive and cannot be changed, ever.
It is true that change is incremental, and we cannot expect policies to change overnight. However, it just seems that we don’t care enough one way or another to do anything about it. This is quite different than the rest of the Westernized world. For example, when I was in Winnipeg once there was a group of college students marching in the streets of downtown because the government refused to pay for their textbooks (but does heavily subsidize tuition). Here in the United States, we take it as a given that we will spend as much as $400 or more for texts in a semester. We certainly will not march about it. In fact, if someone did we would probably chastise this person for being a “whiner” and being too lazy to work an extra job to pay for the text books.
I think that there lies our problem. Not so much that we aren’t marching about books, but we do not feel like we should expect anything at all from our government. I know that we are not entitled to anything in life, but a fundamental question of fairness must be brought into account before accusing of anyone with feeling an sense of entitlement. Taking the textbook example once again, universities and colleges (and I guess private high schools, right boys?) always like to highlight how much they need money. I would gladly give my money if I knew it would save a kid from having to mow the lawn in front of the Brother’s Residence so that he could participate in an extracurricular instead. We all know, however, that the cash doesn’t go to that. It goes to new football uniforms. Or a new bronze statute of some prick that no one liked but had a lot of cash to give away. Still, we give money because of how good it would look in the annual report. Yet, we are not willing to give our money, or lend our good name to a political candidate that really stands for ideas and not money. We attach labels as “unrealistic” or not “electable” to some of these people that stand for ideals and ideas to try and satisfy our conscious that we did the right thing.
We are so completely and singularly devoted to money in this society. Enough to get by isn’t enough; a little more would be nicer; but enough to never worry about ducats ever again is the only thing that really suffices for us. The trouble is the more you have the more you want. I know because I have experienced it in my own life, and instead of craving more of something good, like knowledge, understanding, love, compassion, or kindness, I have found myself to crave more of something bad namely money and how the various ways it can be used to keep a comfortable distance between me and disaster.
In my own defense, money in America is the only thing that can save you if you are in trouble, provided that it is to the right people, in the right amounts, at the right times, and that you should have luck enough not to run into someone honest enough not to take your money as a payoff. Also, without my “just-in-case” health insurance, a single heart attack would divest me of all of my savings, my home, and my vehicles. The only saving grace that we have in this country to save my home and one of my over-two-hundred thousand mile cars is bankruptcy which unfortunately still has a stigma attached to it. If you are morally opposed to bankruptcy, pray to your same moral authority that you will never need to file for it.
We desperately need to change our ways. We need to divest our political process of money. Think how much more responsive our politicians would be if they had to come to your door and convince you to vote for them - earnestly. Sure, they come to your door now, but if you disagree with them they know that they just need to raise a bit more money and the candidate will get your vote from some other unsuspecting voter that had a flyer dropped by his house. Just imagine if they had to somehow convince you that they have a great idea and genuinely had to sell you on it. Then, I think, we would have a fighting chance of citizens really caring, and truly feeling like they could make a difference. Possibly, it could be real chicken under that Shake and Bake instead of dogshit.
When I started writing this, I had intended on discussing issues separate to all I have said. I really wanted to write about how, from a social standpoint, are asleep at the wheel. Somehow, I wrote about how we have similarly fallen asleep at the wheel politically. It doesn’t have to be this way - I think it can be much better. However, I say this without knowing how we can ever have courage enough to make it this way. |
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| The Summer Bummer |
[Aug. 1st, 2008|10:52 pm] |
I am starting to see why some people become vegetarians or decide that they are only going to eat organic produce. I ate at Pierre pizza establishment and had their “tropical pizza” or some non-sense and it has made me quite sick. Let’s just say I stayed home from work today because I was unsure when I might have to go, if you get my drift. Which you should because my drift isn’t even thinly veiled.
So basically, I have been sitting in my filth for most of the day, and that is quite depressing, I must say. About the only thing that I have been able to find of interest is reruns of MASH, which remains a brilliant show. I am amazed how fast the news loses my interest, but news media prefers to repeat the eight stories ten times a day, rather than reporting about the rest of the world, which is both interesting and relevant. Although, I am sure that I would quickly bore of this as well, as all news is just a variation of the same theme of war, poverty, famine, crime, justice (and occasionally injustice) and generally sadness. Then again, that’s what the news is there to do, so I’m not critical of the news media in this regard, but still, repetition of the same several stories isn’t helping the cause for more people tuning in.
Back to eating. I was so disgusted that I was sick, I had considered purchasing a juicer so I could try and eat (or drink, in this case) a few more healthy things. Then I thought, juicing healthy stuff won’t help me eat any healthier - the trouble is that eating healthy is expensive. Really expensive. Arguably, the healthiest meat is either chicken or fish and neither of those products are known for their thrifty characteristics. Fruits and vegetables are similarly expensive, and if you live here (or even in the Twin Cities for that matter), it is very difficult to get good produce. Accordingly, I end up eating cans of soup, pizza, and any other source of cheap food that can be made quickly and relatively cheaply. While a salmon filet may sound tasty, its quite a matter of time to prepare it.
I really hate the summer. Which is related to my hate for air conditioning. While it can be difficult to sleep without it, I hate how air conditioning is noisy, drys out the room, and blows everywhere. It’s a chicken and egg kind of phenomenon: Do I hate the summer because of air conditioning? Or do I hate air conditioning because summer necessitates it? Either way, the summer is without merit.
It also seems like the criminal docket gets pretty busy during the summer as well. Its been my experience that more people get in trouble with the law, or police are patrolling more vigorously during the summer months than most of the winter. Divorces are popular around the first of the year. Another bad thing about the summer is that custody disputes erupt. I guess if I were a private attorney I would feel different about all of these business-generating opportunities, but frankly, I am paid the same either way, busy or not.
I am going to watch something that will be somewhat happy for me: Back to the Future. Since I own the trilogy, I am not sure which one I’m going to watch, but whichever one I do choose, I’m sure it’ll be satisfying. |
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| I'm Posting Confidently... |
[Jul. 19th, 2008|09:33 pm] |
I am in the process of cleaning my house, specifically my office area, and I came upon my typewriter. I had not used in a couple of years because I could not find a new ribbon for it at Office Max in the Midway. As a matter of fact, Office Max didn’t even carry typewriter ribbons any longer, so I just moth balled the old Montgomery Ward machine for a while. Today, when I came upon the electric relic, it dawned on me that I could order a ribbon on the internet. So, I ordered 4 of them, fearing that the ribbons would soon be discontinued. Hopefully, that never happens.
I think its funny that I still have a typewriter at all, since we are in the age of computers, and word processors can supposedly produce documents much more efficiently. While I wouldn’t use a typewriter for any legal work, they are still bar none better than a computer and printer at making address labels. Plus, the font on this typewriter of mine is particularly regal looking, so that adds a touch of class that others seldom have access to.
The last three days I’ve been thinking how bored I am. I find myself not particularly interested in any of the distractions that I have available to me. One possible reason for my (and perhaps others) boredom is an idea that was proffered by a philosopher named Fulton Sheen. His position was that people are bored because they don’t love anything. I thought about this very seriously, and I couldn’t come up with one thing that I loved to do. I realize that I might be good at a few things, but I don’t necessarily like doing them.
I know I used to love going out to eat. Unfortunately, going out to eat has bordered being a necessity since I do not have the time or energy to cook something for myself. I think this is particularly true since I cannot think of the last time that a meal at a restaurant really impressed me, or if it did it was because I was expecting it.
My other former love, traveling, has become quite a burden. Someone is always expecting me at my destination, and I seem to always be too late. There is no time to stop to eat, and you really need to think if you can afford to spend the time to piss. Then there is the potential for a car problem looming, and maybe even more pressing the swarm of law enforcement threatening to stop you, even further delaying your trip, and costing you even more money.
Public transportation is no fun either. I live in one of two states (the other being Wyoming) in the continental portion of this country where I cannot travel the way I would love: by rail. Even the bus station is 50 miles away, and is more expensive than driving my car. Lastly, for about six times the amount it costs to drive my car, I could fly, which, notwithstanding being accosted by security people (who I realize are doing their job) is still a hassle and uncomfortable.
So, I too, am loveless. I know that formal education have ruined some of the things I used to love to do for leisure (like reading and writing), and repetition (perhaps loving too much) has spoiled others (traveling and eating come to mind). I cannot be blamed very much for the latter, since the point of loving something is that you cannot have too much of it. It probably isn’t possible to love something or someone too much. However, I feel like I am a witness to extinguishment of love by doing something too much, so maybe it is possible to love something too much. Of course, it could be that you can love something but not partake in actively loving it; but this just seems to be backward to me. If something is lovable, and one loves it, it should be an unlimited love. On the other hand, I doubt that we can ever love anything completely that is earthly, since every such thing so denominated is one way or another imperfect. Truly, this applies to both things and persons, although I think humanity has more difficulty accepting the imperfections in persons than in things.
This makes me think of another idea that I have been pondering: we are attracted (both romantically and otherwise) to persons who are outwardly perfect. This comes in many forms, such as outward expressions of confidence, trustworthiness, wealth, and the old stand by, beauty. It seems that much of our humanity doesn’t really care about what is inside. Actually, even closer to the truth is that no one is attracted to someone who shows vulnerability, doubt, fear, or pain. It doesn’t matter to us that these unattractive features are much closer to the true self than the often times untruthful attractive features that we sometimes exhibit. There lies the greater point: people have little regard for truth, and care more about the fantasy world of attractiveness.
I am particularly skeptical of those who value confidence. Just about every person that has seemed “confident” are generally lying to themselves or others. There are very few things in life that we know with absolute certainty. Why, then, are people so confident that they are right? It is usually because they are playing a big joke on all of us because the confident person wants to get his or her way. It isn’t because they have any truth, and in reality, if they are honestly evaluating themselves and their position, they are at least somewhat uncertain about what is true. However, if the confident person is less than unequivocal about what is right, our society perceives this as weakness.
The most persuasive people highlight the weaknesses in their position but humbly advance what they believe to be right. Indeed, this approach has the greatest possibility of achieving the actual truth (as opposed to what we think is true) than beating people over the head with strong-man “confident” tactics. Despite this, most of us do not want to hear weaknesses and we want people to always be strong, and never to be weak or unsure. If you think our country has problems, it is likely because so many of us listened to the confident, strong man, and refused to listen to dissent. If you do not think our country has problems, it is because this society has been more accepting of dissent than any other society up to this point in history. Incidentally, those who are “confident” hate dissent or criticism, and threaten the liberty of this country by their hatred of dissent.
Admittedly, it is pretty easy to be attracted to confidence. There is a psychological high that comes from following someone who seems to have all the answers, and who will protect you from the slings and arrows of life. We all wish that we could have this level of security in our lives, because I think that we would live longer, happier lives. However, that is not reality. No one person can be that sure of what the best thing to do is. All we really can do is make the best decisions that we can after careful consideration of competing ideas. This is unappealing to people because it shows weakness and vulnerability. As a result, there is hardly a leader (political or business) that adopts this philosophy. That is why our politicians are rarely the right people to lead. We encourage sociopaths that go around believing that they are absolutely correct. We cheer them on, wave miniature Old Glories when they speak, and yes, they sure are sexy when proclaim confidently what is right. Well reasoned people on the other hand are pushed aside being called “academes” (which has become a derogatory term), doubters, weaklings, and ultimately, unattractive. The encouragement that we give these confident types of people will surly be the downfall of the way we know life, but we don’t really care because they’ll look good going down with the ship.
I don’t mean to reject objective truth by anything that I have said here. To the contrary, I think that the real truth, finding the state of things as they really are, is promoted by not looking so confident. I think most that believe in objective truth reject this proposition, and believe that by considering opposing viewpoints they are relinquishing their right to claim that something is the truth. I have to admit, that most people adhering to objective truth are generally conservative persons, both politically and otherwise. However, I think there is a faction of conservatives that exude confidence and do not even consider other viewpoints. They do this under the banner of objective truth, when in reality they are not interested in finding truth at all. They are most interested in promoting what favors them politically, socially, or financially. I know that there are those of you who will think this is bashing conservatives, and that I am not equally bashing self-proclaimed liberals. It is true, there are liberals who use ideology to support their actions (as opposed to the other way around), but they don’t do this under the cover of objective truth, and this is why I am not as critical of them here.
So I guess my point is that we should be skeptical of those who seem confident. This supposed confidence is likely hiding some other weakness, sometimes shallow, and other times deep. My other point is that we should value truth over the appearance of confidence, or any other lure of attractiveness such as vanity, wealth, or faux trust. I doubt that either of these wishes of mine will ever be realized since we are addicted to the determining the worth of a person by their attractiveness. Then again, there is always hope. |
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| Stronger than LJ |
[Jul. 5th, 2008|01:46 am] |
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I had originally planned on posting on here tonight, and I started to in my word processor but decided that it was so bitter and upsetting that I decided not to post it, even privately. I just don't know how I ended up in Highmore, South Dakota. And even if I figured a way out, where would I go and why? It's probably not worth thinking about... |
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| Born in the Back of a Seminole Bus on the Road to Niagra Falls |
[Jun. 14th, 2008|02:28 am] |
I once heard heaven described as taking the happiest time in your life and amplifying it infinitely, or at least it was described something like that. Considering I had several hours to think this over in my car tonight driving back to the Cities, I thought about what my happiest time was, and I didn’t come to a definitive answer. However, I know that the feeling of finding or re-discovering a profound friendship makes me happy. I’ve also come to realize that it is true that a few years between old friends is nothing at all. I won’t go into particulars about what made me come to this conclusion, as I would like to keep a few things to myself these days, but I can tell you that I am beginning to find out what makes me happy.
The fundamental question of living is probably asking yourself about what you hope to achieve in this life. As humans, we have the unique opportunity to be something greater than ourselves, and yet we subrogate this opportunity to muddling thorough the daily grind. It’s true that we have to do some amount of muddling, but so often we become so scared of what will happen if we do not pay attention to trivialities of the social and economic aspect of life. For example, why do new boyfriends always have to meet the girlfriend’s family when she can barely stand her family herself? Girlfriend probably fears what will happen if she does not make herself and boyfriend go through this painful and awkward hurdle. “What will mother think?” she might wonder if boyfriend is never shopped around the extended family like some prize bull. The process is equally as excruciating for girlfriend as it is boyfriend, yet this stupid rite of passage in a relationship is still exercised by couples across society.
We also feel the same way about our jobs. Our jobs continually challenge our own judgment to the point that we convince ourselves that we are wrong. We keep ourselves employed by fear because we worry that we cannot pay our bills, or that we will become extremely sick and need insurance. We even worry that if we quit a job or retire that we will be bored without the job that we became inexplicably hitched to. It is wrong that we do not trust our own judgment, and wronger still that we let fear drive us to employment. I sometimes wonder how many society changing ideas have been squashed because people were to afraid to leave their jobs and pursue the seemingly impossible task of doing what they really believe in. I suspect quite a few since the belief by employees that they are wrong is so deeply entrenched in our working culture.
We began to second-guess ourselves in school. I remember exactly when this was for me. In first grade we had to make these story books. As some of you remember, in first grade we wrote on that paper that was wide-ruled with the dotted line in the middle. I was particularly proud of myself because I took extra care in making my letters legible. I colored with care as well, because I wanted this work to meet absolute approval of my teacher. Oddly, what I was proudest of was the numerals that I used to number my pages, especially the number “5" that I printed. My fives were particularly illegible, and, as I recall, mostly because I tried a short cut to draw them like an “S” and not put the “hat” on the top of the five like you are supposed to. To make a long story short, my page numbers on this occasion were impeccable, especially the fives. I also circled my page numbers, just like they were in our workbooks (Frank, you may remember this since I know we were working from the same book).
So I call Ms. Keating over there to look over my work, and to show her in particular how nice my numbers were. She looked over the book and said, “Don’t circle your page numbers” and walked away. I frankly couldn’t believe it. I had tried extra hard not to be a slob and she still found fault in my work. I know my story isn’t unique, because we have all be knocked down when we thought we did something perfectly. However, the point is that from such a young age we are told that we are wrong and that we aren’t capable of a good idea, unless we are copying someone else’s idea, who we wrongly believe is smarter.
I’ve come to understand that no one ever got ahead by pouring a mold; rather you get a head by creating the mold. We are never encouraged to do this because it is too “dangerous.” Indeed, stupid people shouldn’t be creating molds, but the flip side of the argument is that no one ever gets smart unless they are able to try and mold something. While my circling of the numbers was indeed a copy, I wasn’t even allowed this minor deviation from the expectations of the teacher. And here I am, 22 years later, still recalling my minor infraction with a first grade teacher. Proof positive that dashing young children’s creativity creates a lasting impression.
So, what is my point? We cannot be scared of our own shadow. If we continue to worry about what might happen when we deviate from what is safe, or what is expected from us we will never reach what some call self-actualization, and what I call simply the ability to live with myself. We force ourselves to do something that is against what we believe because we feel that we have to in order to do our share of muddling. The reality is that it is essential, and, as a matter of fact, it is a matter of life and death, to be able to live in the skin we are in. People end their own lives either by suicide or by worring themselves to death and giving themselves either a heart attack or stroke because they are so uncomfortable by who they are or what they have become. The end up finding no meaning at all in life because they have given up so many of the good and virtuous beliefs as they feel forced into that situation. In many cases they can hardly be blamed for this thinking because too often have been told that they must not circle their page numbers, their “5" and “S” are indistinguishable, and that they have never had an original idea that was worth pursuing. If you ever thought your life was worth anything, realize that you shouldn’t be worried about being broke and everyone hating you. Because the truth is there are worse things than not having money and the feeling you aren’t liked; worse than all these things is having so much cognitive dissonance that you wish you could separate your skin from your skeleton and somehow live separately from one another. And if you think that your life is worth nothing, remember that nothing cannot come from something, and your ability to think, reason, and indeed being able to read and analyze these words makes your life worth something. For you nihilists, consider that your thought that you are worthless (which must be the case if your are a nihilist) may really be that you are unable to live with yourself in your current state, and that you would like to feel worthless on account of feeling so horrible. However, a feeling doesn’t equate to truth, and truth, which may be futile to argue to a nihilist, is often a long ways off from what we are told to believe.
We have a fear complex in this society. It is not altogether unwarranted, as there is plenty to fear. However, fear is not able to defeat us, only death can. The only thing that we should fear is death before achieving some beautiful purpose. |
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| Little Smokies |
[Apr. 6th, 2008|01:08 am] |
I mad a Crock Pot full of Little (or if you prefer, ‘Lil) Smokies tonight. I needed to use two packages that were lingering in my refrigerator tonight. My original goal was to use both of them up, but then I thought I’m going to have a mighty task in eating one pound, let alone two pounds of miniature all-beef franks. Its funny that I even like Little Smokies at all since I don’t really care for hot dogs all that much, unless it’s the good kind (John knows what I’m talking about).
I thought I had more to say, and I’m sure that I do. But it just doesn’t matter enough to type it. |
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| Good King Wenceslas versus Little Drummer Boy |
[Dec. 18th, 2007|02:26 am] |
I feel like such a louse for sleeping on my couch for the third night in a row. It just seems like there is so much work involved in going my bed all the way upstairs. Frankly, I have been quite sedentary as of late, so much so that I felt that I could not make the drive home this weekend.
I hope everyone is well this holiday season. Even if you do not believe in the religious meaning of the season, try and seize on the spirit of it. As commercialized as the message of non-commercialism has become, let us put peace on Earth, being kind to each other, and being committed to truth and the quest for it above receiving and giving a few trinkets of superficial and specious value. |
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| You Were Born With A Snake In Both of Your Fists, While a Hurricane Was Blowing |
[Nov. 24th, 2007|11:22 am] |
For the past several days, I have had a compulsion to purchasing things. Lucky for myself and my finances, I have not given into this spirit of buying, but it does not mean that the urge is any less. I have tried to examine myself and consider why I have felt the need to go buy things that I do not need, such as an automatic watch (which I did purchase) and a mah jong board (which I have managed to refrain from purchasing). Mostly, I think that it is the thrill of buying and not so much the thrill of owning which is fueling my eagerness to search and consume these products.
After some thought about it all, one of the conclusions that I have come to is that I am not comfortable with thought of being content. I suppose this is the reason why I have been on the search for a new job, and why I have been enamored with the thought of purchasing cheap imports for my possessions collection. Oddly, both spending money and not spending it has lead to an anxiety about finances that I do not welcome.
I could be as trite as to say in the end it does not matter, and sadly I would be correct. Besides, in the long run everyone is dead. Perhaps one thing that could be said, and at only a slightly less contrived wisdom, is that the only thing that really matters is how much you gave and not how much you had. For the moment I do not refer to money so much as I refer to time. I think the most valuable thing that you could give to another is your time. Money, for as hard as we work for it, is cheap - more can be made, earned, or begged for. Time, however, is a zero-sum game that can be gained and given only once at a very definite point in our existence. While it remains true that it often makes more sense and does more good to give money than time, time certainly is the heftier metal, the finer wheat, that we can bestow on others.
Which brings me back to my “consumerism” for lack of a better term. Thankfully, I may actually realize that my time is worth more than my money and that is why I have succumbed to purchasing automatic watch (with sun and moon dial), and have almost perished to the mah jong board. While the one thing that I know I am right about is that I know nothing at all, I am convinced that the human race has subscribed to the primacy of money over time. Somewhere along the way we have duped ourselves into thinking that money is much more precious than time. Oddly, this has not made us to be more generous of our time, but only a better guardian of money.
It has occurred to me that my slight preference to give my treasure over my time is one of the major reasons that I remain faithfully, and singularly yours. (With particular emphasis on singularly). No, it cannot help that I usually look like I have been sleeping in a gutter most of the time, but any woman who cannot see past my surface wounds would not be tolerant enough to endure my deeper faults. Not that I think that my faults are so deep as drive one off an edge, but I am cognizant that I cannot get them through my admission gate to the greatest show on earth. While it is true it does take a lot of advertising and barking to get people to come, I would rather someone just come upon the circus and either take pity on it, or preferably, find some charm in its abandoned and run-down state. I suppose that is why I do not like to tell people what I do for cash dollars, or even really care how I look any more, at least to an extent. I convince people that I am right for a living, and what a sham to true love and affection to have to use the same occupational skills for such a tender purpose.
But, time has proven that I am out of touch with how things work. I have never been anything but the way I am made, which even if unpalatable from time to time, is the only way I can live with being. The trouble is that I am neither bourgeois nor yuppie, poor nor uneducated, rich nor particularly haughty. I know I am not regular, but I am not irregular or alternative in many senses of the words. I can only describe myself somewhat akin to wasabi sauce - pleasant in color, course in texture, and unusual in flavor. For those who know me, this may make sense, and for those who do not, I suppose you are put on notice. |
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| Life is a Triple Word Score When All You Have Are Vowels |
[Nov. 4th, 2007|10:08 am] |
It often time occurs to me that working forty hours in a week is much more than man was intended to work. The primary problem with working this much is that it takes away the fruit of the day, and leaves us with the rind. Lately, it has felt like both the fruit and the rind have been consumed by working.
I could not bear to get in my car and drive home for the weekend. It seemed too impossible to sit for yet another seven hours, passing the same towns, the same fuel stations, and even the same houses once again in my journey to be reunited with a place that feels like a fraction of what home was. It is a dilemma for me as neither the soil where I make my bed, nor the place that I was born feels completely like home. Even if I were to piece the fractions together, the would not seem to make a whole home place for me. I know that I am not unique in this puzzle, but all who have ever had to move away from something that was familiar, both in place and time, has felt this tearing asunder.
Ultimately, I made my “home” in Highmore this weekend. It was unfortunate that I missed seeing familiar people, both in place and time, but ai knew that at the least I needed to do laundry and dishes, and at the most I needed a time of contemplation. Fortunately, I got both, and I verily believe that I am better for it.
I drove to Pierre yesterday afternoon as a form of recreation. It afforded me the opportunity to listen to “Wait, Wait...” and Garrison Keilor, which is quite a bit of fun in and of itself. After having an average lunch, I decided to go on a walk on this forested island on the Missouri. Like all good woods, it did have its main trail, well maintained by small aggregate and benches. But it also had what made it great woods - less maintained trails. Naturally, I took those that looked less traveled, and I was certainly the better for it.
As I started out down this path that brought me to the edge of the river and then sharply turned away into the dark woods, it occurred to me that the sound of my feet trampling the leaves was the only sound I could hear, other than the wind and the birds. I could not even hear my tinnitus which usually plagues me during all awake hours. I made this regular cadence of sound through even deeper woods, while continuing down paths that seemed even more desolate, even less traveled. This when on for what felt like at least 2 or 3 miles.
I emerged from the woods, yet deep on the island still. The woods gave way to a prairie of tall grasses and quieter trails. Instead of hearing my feet in rhythm I could not hear my feet as I walked down this path that seemed to be blazed of clay. Replacing the sound of my feet was the wind blowing through these high, dry grasses resembling the sound of sand falling through an hour glass in amplified and stereo sound. Again the ringing surrendered to this much more charitable and peaceful sound.
I found myself back at my car and I sat down on the cold leather seat. I felt sore all over, and I thought it odd that I did not feel a thing but contentment the entire time I was walking. I suppose that when we are in deep thought or concentration we forget about ugly things like pain. Certainly, I was in much deeper concentration than thought, but then again the two are not mutually exclusive.
Of the thoughts that did come to me is how so many people today never give themselves a chance at a life worth living. Some of us have so much fear of the future dammed up that we are convinced that things cannot get better. Indeed, the essence of being human is that we can become better than ourselves, which generally means that we leave a place that we found comfortable or familiar. It is true that this life of ours is somewhat akin to a muscle - it has to tear to get stronger. The tears of our life indeed do seem painful at the time, especially when we leave something that is well known to us. While we may reflect on it and even feel bad about it for a time, the times that we have felt isolated, depressed, angry, sad, indifferent, and annoyed temporarily compromise the muscle. But we grow back, and as trite as it is, we become stronger. |
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| September 23rd cannot come fast enough... |
[Aug. 19th, 2007|11:35 pm] |
That’s right - - fall cannot come fast enough. Like I might have said on multiple occasions, I hate the summer, and really love the fall. The last straw for summer with me was on Friday when I mowed the lawn - the entire lawn, front and back. Maybe I’m a wimp, but I never wanted a shower more than when I finished that lawn.
Not that I have a great memory, but nothing good has ever happened to me in the summer. Rather than recalling every black cloud that has loomed above me in the summer, I’m sure many of you can take my word for it. On the other hand, I do remember good things about the fall, but again, I will not belabor it by recalling anything in particular. I will say, however, that the one thing that does stick out in my mind about the fall is that it always marked the beginning of school. I remember the first school night I ever had. It was the night before my first Kindergarten day at Holy Spirit. I asked Mark what time school started and he told me “8 in the morning, sharp.” For some reason, football was on the television, and I remember thinking that the arrows behind the yard markers meant “sharp.” So I said to Mark “it’s like 30 sharp, right?” Obviously he was confused by this, and I went on to explain that the arrows meant sharp, and that’s what it meant to be on school on time. I think he just threw something at me and told me to be on time.
It’s amazing what people will remember from their childhood. I don’t know why I remembered that little tidbit, but it has stuck with me all these years. Unfortunately for me, “8 am sharp” and “30 sharp” never left an impression on me to be on time, as all of you will attest I am habitually tardy. I guess I never understood the importance of being exactly on time, and I think there are only a few times in a person’s life where it is absolutely necessary to be on time. Work is generally not one of them, or at least I don’t think that it should be.
Even in my high school and college years, fall was a special time of year. It was a time that I said farewell to home friends, and greeted college friends. Fall left such an impression on me when I would pick up Haselman from Bemidji State and we took a route home that had dense forest on either side of us. It’s a glorious route to take in the Fall, or any time of year, really. It was on that road that I got my first speeding ticket, and I remember the dread that I felt as those lights go off on the patrol vehicle. Interestingly, that dread hasn’t left me - anytime that I am pulled over it makes me nervous. Actually, it goes beyond nervous because I have physical effects when I see those lights - my head gets light, my legs tingle, and I shake. I’m not exactly sure why this is, and this is particularly queer reaction for a criminal defense attorney to have, but indeed I feel all of these signs of a panic attack when I’m pulled over. Well, whatever the reason for my reaction, it’s all of little consequence, with the worse of it results in a speeding ticket. At least I’m old enough now that I don’t have to call my dad when I get a speeding ticket.
It’s a fitting situation that I am going to the Lightfoot concert on September 22, as the next day is the first day of Fall. All of his music seem to remind me of the fall or winter, and I’m sure that the intended effect. I think that’s why I like him so much. I watched a DVD of a live concert that he gave in Reno several years back, and the only regret about that is the use of the keyboard - he really doesn’t need that synthetic sound. In any event, I am confident it’s going to be a good concert, keyboard or not.
At this point, I do not think that I should write anymore because the only thing that I have left to say will sound sadly pathetic or seriously self-deprecating, or both. Let us look for the end of this cruel summer, and the beginning of the bagpipes of Macalester. |
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| The Second Fall |
[May. 10th, 2007|01:07 am] |
Halls Cough Drops (Clearance)....... .10
Irish Spring Soap ........................... 3.64
Lawnmower ................................169.99
That’s how my receipt read in my emergency trip to Wal-Mart tonight. I got so frustrated with the God-forsaken lawnmower that I decided it was time to get a new one. I called my dad tonight and yelled “the mower doesn’t work” and getting very huffy about it. When driving to Wal-Mart I felt pretty bad about that episode, especially because I did it outside where the neighbors could hear it all. Dad, while I know your not reading, I am sorry.
Like I have said before, my lawn is out of control. If it were any bigger, even by a bit, I would need to get a riding lawn mower. I guess I didn’t think of that when I bought the place, which is emblematic of often mis-placed enthusiasm for things old and big. I could have had old and small across the street, but no, I just had to have the fucking fancy house. Leave it up to me to complain because I got too much - - most people would kill to have a house like mine and I’m bitching like a little girl. In any case...
I’m coming up pretty close on a year with my employer. I never thought that I would even get close to burnt out after a year, but work has taken its toll. Actually, I think that life has taken its toll, coupled with a psychosis that is all my own. It is obvious that I cannot eliminate stress, but I think the issue is that it seems like so much of life is like straw - - hollow, dehydrated, and common. I can blame the way I feel on my job, but in reality I think that I’m such a ball of stress that the ugly effects of this condition are just starting to manifest itself. Stress is somewhat like squeezing a capped tube of toothpaste: it will eventually explode, but where, how and when nobody knows for certain. I don’t think that I’m on the verge of “blasting” everywhere, I think it is the way that we all feel from time to time. Unfortunately, my way of deflating is being more or less apathetic. In short: I need a vacation (badly).
But therein lies my problem: I’m too busy thinking I need a vacation when I have a whole lawn of grass that needs to be mowed. And I have to buy furniture so I stop living like a damned vagabond. The car needs exhaust work. Speaking of which, I think that the hole in my exhaust system has probably seeped into my cabin, which is probably what has been making me cranky as late. Actually, it’s probably just my turn to be cranky again. I mean, summer is not my season, and there are many more bugs already than there was last year. For example, I have already had a mosquito bite me, when I didn’t even see one the whole of last year. This is mostly to do with how moist it has been around here of late, but even still, it’s annoying.
Mark bought a new vehicle this weekend as his old car has had enough. It’s a real shame too, because his old car was pretty comfortable. However, I think that it is good that he bought a new vehicle because he bought a little pick-up, which will benefit both him and I. Fortunately for both of us, I was along when Mark made the decision to buy the truck, which helped the decision making process. Actually, this probably isn’t true because Mark, believe it or not, is a much more decisive person that I am. How I became the lawyer is a mystery to me.
I can’t believe that I am even entertaining the thought of going back to school, but it has crossed my mind several times. However, I think that if I do it, I wait for another four years or so, that way I can pay some loans off and then I’d be able to take my license to practice law to just about any state. Then again, if I lose my mind before the four years are up, I guess I’d have to consider getting back to school sooner. This would work perfectly because most people in graduate school have lost their mind already, so I’d fit right in. In fact, I think you have to have the equivilent of a labotomy experience to actually endure through the fields of bullshit called graduate school. Although, if things go bad while in grad school, at least I already have a doctoral degree and can tell the grad school to sod off. I guess the only reason I’d even consider going back to school is because it’s something that I know like the back of my hand - - I know all of the tricks of the trade, so I’m not as vulnerable as a first-timer to grad school would be. Not that any of this matters or makes sense, but I do see it as an advantage.
I should have just went to Miller tonight instead of going to Pierre. That way, I would have only bought an Itallian Stallion (a sandwich from the grocery store) rather than buying stupid-ass lawnmower. I guess I couldn’t have gone to the drive-in, because they only have shows on the weekend, nor could I have done anything else of consequence. I could have bought groceries I suppose, especially meat, which would have been great. I’ve wanted to try out my new electric grill and smoker, but that’ll have to wait until another day.
Let’s see...I guess I leave you all with this thought: come out to South Dakota and see my terrible grass! Seriously, I would love to have all you guys come out here sometime soon. I think it would be fun to go out to the Black Hills, especially to climb Harney Peak, which is the highest peak in South Dakota. There is a stone tower at the top of it which is supposed to have awesome views. Even if climbing isn’t your thing, it would be fun just to try out my new smoker I think you all would agree.
I’m going to bed. I might have some other thoughts later tonight yet, and they may need to come out, just like the tube of toothpaste.
-DSE
Harney Peak Tower |
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| "Ain't got no time...'massa gots me working...someday 'massa set me free!" |
[May. 7th, 2007|10:14 pm] |
They changed the American fries at the restaurant in the casino. While I was not all that upset, I was annoyed enough to let the waitress know that I want them to go back to the old American fries. She told me that she would tell the powers that be that a customer preferred the old American fries. In any case, I’ll keep you all updated.
I transported a lawnmower from my parent’s house back to the Highmore compound. I was happy to have a mower because my grass is getting long, and I can only imagine what the neighbors are saying. Plus, one does not feel so great when you drive to your home and it looks like a jungle in your front yard. I was relieved that the mower started, but unfortunately for me, it didn’t stay that way. I would get it started and running for about 45 seconds before it decided it had enough. I guess I can’t blame the mower, considering the length of the grass.
After my failure with the lawnmower, I thought I would move onto tilling the garden. I was convinced that a pitch fork would be enough to do the job, but dad insisted that I take the pick ax. Suffice it to say, the fork was woefully inadequate, and so I brought out the ax. Indeed, it is the premier way to start a garden if you have to do it manually. After literally a few swings of the ax, I thought enough was enough, at least for tonight. I had to stop because I kept thinking all the neighbors were watching, and I felt embarrassed that I had to swing a pick ax like I was working on a railroad, when a gas roto tiller is the easiest and most expensive way to till a garden. I brought in all of my tools, and I will try to get over my embarrassment later on this week.
This past weekend was the closest I have felt to wanting to move back to St. Paul in a long time. Generally speaking, I’m pretty bitter at Minnesota for not giving me a higher education or a job, save for many incarnations of food service positions. It is my belief that I was happy to be home because the dogs were behaving, and I had a place to sleep that was not the floor. Still, I’m pretty resentful that my home state wasn’t willing to provide for me, despite my best efforts.
The only thing that surprises me anymore is the fact that I’m not surprised by anything. I suppose that is because I expect the worse to come out of everything, but that’s only natural considering my job. Although, I think that I am hard wired to think this way, and my non-response to any number of troubling situations is the perfection of my personality.
To write any more tonight would be akin to passing a kidney stone. I am not exactly sure why it has been difficult for me to talk about much of anything tonight, but I think it is probably because I have not written in so long, at least not casually. In an effort to avoid the pain of the stone, I’ll stop writing now. |
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| "It really pisses me off when people aren't thankful for rides..." |
[Mar. 15th, 2007|12:56 am] |
It’s been a while since a seen a night this dark. As I left the office at about twenty minutes to eleven tonight, I looked up the road where I would drive and it was a wall of black. Usually I would be a little giddy to drive that road, but tonight I had my doubts. The worse thing about driving in this kind of dark is the various animals that tend to pop out at you when you least expect it. No doubt, I was on the lookout for two small balls of fire somewhere in the ditch, which would indicate that a deer was at least thinking about crossing the road. Luckily for me, not even a jackrabbit tried to scurry across the road, which, although my car could survive hitting, it is never a clean proposition.
I have been using Yahoo’s music service, and tuning particularly to the “90's Alternative” station, and there are too many songs that bring back memories. It was a lot of fun to hear those tunes again, and I would suggest anyone who is even half as sentimental as I am to give it a try. I assure you, it will make work go easier.
Maybe it’s an indication of my workaholism, but it was nice to get out of work at that late of an hour. I have to admit, however, that I did take a nap at 4:30 so I could prepare myself to stay there the balance of the night. It was nice to rest on the recliner that I had set up in my office, and just take some minutes to clear myself of the distraction of the office, including the phone. A co-worker was nice enough to give me a can of Chef Boyardee Overstuffed Ravioli for dinner, which was not only good, but quite appreciated. I think that I’ll have to buy that more often, as I had forgotten how much I like that stuff.
It’s going to another busy day tomorrow, so I should get some sleep. I thought that I had something more to say, but I guess all there is to say is that things aren’t going to bad at all. |
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| Irony is indeed the shakles of youth... |
[Mar. 13th, 2007|08:55 pm] |
On my way to the post office this afternoon, it appeared that winter had finally yielded to spring. The piles of snow are reduced to lowly mounds of what looks like someone emptied a pepper shaker onto the ground. Still, I am fearful that winter has not relinquished control for once and for all, but at least this was a nice release from what we have been used to around here. Perhaps the most interesting thing about my walk to the post office was that there were more people on the streets here in Highmore than I ever ran into in Chamberlain, a town over three times the former’s size.
I would be watching Star Trek: TNG right now, but unfortunately I have seen today’s episode. I hope that they go back to double episodes of the show, like they had previously. However, I think that it is uncommon to find someone that wants to see ten-year-old shows at all, much less two episodes back to back. In any case, I’m pretty contented with the one show that I do get nightly, although I wish that they brought back “The Big Money Mach Game, ‘75!”
It occurred to me today that I feel sorry for our country. I think that the whole Iraq War that is being waged right now has been a serious impediment with addressing many of the other issues that are going on in this country. As an example, it looks like many are going to lose their homes in foreclosure as interest rates are on the rise for those who were unfortunate enough to go with variable rate mortgages. While this is unfortunate, I think that I really feel bad for us because we all thought that the war would reduce the risk of terrorism in this country, and that the treasure that we have spent fighting that war would all be worth it. I do not think that we are going to be as bad off as some may think, as in the long run it will have been good that a dictator is gone from power, the short term consequences have been profound. Further, I think that history is not going to see America as bad as it is seen now, or as bad as I or many others think. Besides, we have to be excused for actions somewhat because of September 11th. Doubtless, there is no connection between Hussein and September 11th, but when you look at the large picture, it is not as though we toppled a just and equitable ruler. It is true that there are many other dictators that we could (or maybe should) remove, at least he is one less that we have to worry about. The unfortunate part about it all is that we have a very unstable country as a result. The price for being principled (or as some may say, protecting our interests) is that Iraq is made unstable.
Highmore becomes a much more bearable place to live in warmer environments. It is actually a very exciting place in the Spring. Farmers and Ranchers are making preparations; children play in the streets, and people sit out on their porches letting the time go by. As for my part, I sit in my office and type away at you all, and look at the palatial house that sits across the street from me. Indeed, my house stands in the shadows of such a dwelling, or at least it would if it were close enough to my building. I remember admiring it in the winter when it was strung with white lights that dangled from its wrap-around porch and every window-sill. These light seemed to accentuate the grandeur of the house, which well may have been the intent. I would never want that house as I could never fill it up, even if I had a pick-up truck so that I could haul things from the thrift store in Pierre. Also, I would feel even more wasteful than I already do by having that much space.
If winter has not left your mist as it appears it has here, do not fret. I remember it was the tell-tale sign of the defeat of winter when Edgecumbe would start stacking up the boards that made up the outdoor skating rink. It almost always would be around my birthday, and I remember on several climbing on top of those boards and eating ice cream that I had bought at the Tom Thumb store. There was only a short period of time in which one could sit on top of the boards, as they would be shipped out of there very soon after they were stacked like that. I remember it as being a week or less, but then again, time seems much longer than it was when you a child. Indeed, it may have been much rarer than I remember it, if my theory of time is correct. In any case, spring is on the way, even if you have to hold on just a little while longer.
Another time that I remember spring being important was in high school. This is because it became a lot warmer for John and I to walk to wherever we were going than it had been before. If there was any doubt about how frigid it was, I only need to think back to when John and I walked across the High Bridge to get to Josh Mike’s house in January. I can’t recall what motivated us to do something like that, but it was a harrowing walk from my house to John’s in that weather, and even stupider to walk from John’s to Mike’s. In thinking about that, I remember Spring was a welcomed change from how it had been, and sometimes, I would tie my jacket around my waist. I shutter to think how silly that may have looked, but it didn’t really matter how anyone looked if you were walking on the streets of St. Paul. You could walk into any number of people who were more confused, lost, and awkward than you in walking the streets. This phenomenon was universal throughout the city - - one would think that certain neighborhoods would breed some of St. Paul’s finest residents, but I don’t think it matter much where you walked. As some of you may remember driving down “Holiday Road” one night, there was the guy on the bike in dress shirt and bow tie. He reminded me of Baxter Stockman.
As I look around my study/office room (and my bathroom), I am reminded about how much moving- in I still have to do. In the middle of this room there is a green duffel bag filled with my bar exam materials, which includes hundreds of note cards, pile of study guides, and several books. There are boxes that I have barely touched from the time I moved to Chamberlain. Indeed, I have work to do. To that end, I will bid you all farewell for now, and will catch you on the flip side.
-DSE
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| Friend to the Martyr, Friend to the Woman of Shame |
[Mar. 2nd, 2007|06:04 pm] |
We had a snow day today, as the weather is bad. It’s not so much that there is a lot of snow, but we have winds of 35 to 50 miles per hour which makes blizzard like conditions. I tried to go down the street to the grocery store to get some cheese pizzas for lent, but my car got stuck in my driveway. So I had to walk the two blocks, which would usually not be a big deal, but the wind was blowing like a mo fo.
In any case, other than that single act of bravery, man did absolutely nothing. Actually, man stayed in his bed most of the day, chatting with folks online and watching You Tube videos ranging from 80s commercials, to TV bumpers, promos, and indents, to music videos, including watching “The Mollusk” about four times.
Additionally, there was man checking on his e-Harmony booby trap. Yes, sadly, I joined. I call it a booby trap because the send you all these people that you supposedly match with. They close communication with you if they want nothing to do with you. Of 40 matches I have been sent, only two have wanted to communicate with me, and were only on the third stage. You see, you must go through “stages” of communication, such as asking 5 questions, listing your “must haves” and “can’t stands” and so on. I am thinking that this is a scam. Goodbye, $88.50, more or less. But, I got to hand it to Neil Clark Warren: he convinced me to part with about seven-eights of a day of pay.
While I have been writing this, the wind has intensified. As I look out my bedroom window, I have noticed that the snow has been impelled into the inside of the screen, which is some indication of how the wind has been blowing. Despite the weather, I just heard the train go by, which is a welcomed measure of relief.
I have resolved to sit up for most of the rest of the day because I was laying flat most of the day in my filth. No, I didn’t shit my pants, but I might as well had. So I took a shower and here I am, writing this.
I would have gladly paid the $88.50 (more or less) to Neil Clark Warren if he would come over and shovel my walk and driveway. It’s that bad right now, and I dread having to go out there sometime this weekend and start shoveling. I guess it’ll allow to shed a few pounds, as if I were ever concerned about that.
I am going to try to write some bills and get my paperwork ready for the tax man. I don’t want to do my own taxes, so I’ll fork them over to the accountant. I’ll continue on my campaign to clean the house. With any bit of luck, I’ll be able to go to Pierre on Sunday to load up on provisions. |
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| Get along Little Doggies... |
[Feb. 24th, 2007|03:16 pm] |
This sucks. I have no TV on account of the damned snow blocking my satellite dish. I would go out there and brush it off, but of course, I don’t have a ladder, and it’s too high just to take the broom to it. Rumor has it that it is snowing like a son of bitch back home, which prohibited me from leaving. This is very infuriating.
If that weren’t bad enough, I signed up for e-harmony, but I’m not going to pay the bastards $60 a month so they can have someone interview me as if I were going for a job. Although they know, and I know that I will buckle - - eventually. I don’t think that I have much of a choice in the matter.
I should be cleaning the house today. But I really hate doing that. When you cleaning, it’s never good enough. You always find something else that needs to be wiped down, scrubbed, or sanitized. My usual reaction to this is to just ignore it, and so I don’t get paranoid about it. I guess my biggest problem with cleaning is that it’s so easy to dirty what you’ve just cleaned.
On the plus side, I woke up at noon today. And while that made me feel lazy, it did feel good to sleep in. Although, I haven’t been the best with getting right up for work either. I think that I have to get that bed that electrocutes the sleeper into getting up. Maybe it would re-arrange some of brain cells, or produce more of the right chemicals, and I’d be more productive.
I’ve decided permanently that I hate winter. The days are short, so you don’t see the sun. Now, many of you heard me rant and rave against the sun before, and while I’m still personally opposed to it, I cannot deny it’s health benefits. It sucks leaving for work when the sun is up and coming back home and it always being dark. In other words, the only time that I see my house in the daylight is the morning, and I hate the morning probably more than the sun. I really wish I could work second shift – get up around 11, go in around 2 or 3, get off ‘bout 11. Go out afterwards. That’s pretty much the schedule that I had at The Arches, and it worked out pretty well. But alas, those are past times behind.
I have said this too many times to be novel, interesting, or even informative, but I revel in the past way too much. For example, I felt bad for someone who didn’t win $5000 in the big money super-match on the Match Game. Now usually this wouldn’t be a big deal, but the game show is over 30 years old. The person who didn’t win has had so much happen in 30 years, that it doesn’t matter. I mean, they probably don’t feel bad that they lost 30 years ago, if they are still living at all.
I keep turning my TV on hoping that the dish will correct itself. And this time, I was lucky enough that it has. The first thing that comes on is Family Feud, starring Richard Dawson, which is also about 30 years old. Boy could he dress sharp.
I’ve been making an inordinate number of typos lately. Not so much misspellings, but forgetting an “s” to make something plural. I think its because I think that I typing speed these days over typing quality. Who knows.
Well, I hate to say it, but family feud is about the best thing on right now. So I think that I’ll leave it there. |
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| "Laying them in, and tying them down" |
[Feb. 20th, 2007|01:22 am] |
For some reason or another, technology has officially arrived at my home. Not only do I have the internets, I have it wirelessly. If that weren’t enough, I am watching Star Trek on satellite. Truly, this is a wired house. Not too bad for this old man in “this Old House.”
Before I forget, looks like you’re really breaking a leg, Luke. If I had any ability to memorize lines, I would give acting a try. But alas, I know my place, and it is not performing in front of others - - at least not on a stage with a proscenium. Rather, I do my acting at a bar and in front of a bench.
After a restful time in the Cities, I am trying to prepare myself for another week of work. I’d hope that it would have become easier after these months, and in some respects it has. However, I often leave myself with more unresolvable questions than answers, usually to the ire of my clients.
If I might suggest, Hooters has come out with a new potato chip which I found to be quite satisfactory. I had the “Hot Wing” variety, which was not particularly hot, but was quite tasty. I also had a Mocha smoothie thing from a gas station to wash it down, which was equally satisfying.
It was a beautiful ride home tonight. The sun was setting, and it was partly cloudy, which diffused the sun quite magnificently. The temperature and the melting was more reminiscent of spring than winter, but in either case, I was more than happy to see it. I was able to stop in Huron for groceries and take a look at Huron University and wish for its resurrection. I’m not exactly sure why I have an affinity for that place, but I think it reminds me of what college was like for me, and the good times that were had.
I look forward to planting the garden. Tilling it is going to be difficult, and I’m going to have to get some tools that will get the job done. Still, I’m confident that the fruits of my labor will be more than worth it.
Well, speaking of work, I should go to bed so that I’ll be able to get up.
-DSE |
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| Ice Burger |
[Feb. 11th, 2007|03:18 pm] |
So I thought that I would re-cap my weekend. I guess the best way to tell it to you is to tell you the singular highlight of the weekend, and you’ll be able to extrapolate the rest from the story I will tell you.
There was a Mardi Gras parade on the streets of Deadwood. Soon afterwards, it had been pre-planned that the group that I was with would go to some fancy restaurant. Now, you all know that I almost never turn down an opportunity to try a new place, and this was no exception. So on I went with a group of people, about half of which were strangers to me.
This place was fancy to the max. It had a piano player, and more than two forks per place setting. White linen on the tables, cloth napkins, and tasteful decoration to round things out. In any case, while we were waiting for the table the hostess, who I looked exactly like Kavanaugh (Judith, not Dick), came walking through. In my Rodney Dangerfeid-esque manner, I commented to everyone that was waiting that she looked exactly like my high school Latin teacher, and that she was no peach. Of course, this didn’t even draw a grimace, which would have been appreciated, even if it is a sign of disgust. In any case, it was time for us to be seated, and I was the first one to two tables set out for our group. And true to form, I sat at the head of the first table.
The trouble is, however, everyone else that I knew on the trip (the other half) sat at the other table. So here I am sitting with a bunch of strangers. I noticed that there was a seat available at the non-stranger table, so I went to the bathroom so that I could take that seat (it would have looked awful if I would have just gone over there without going to the bathroom first). In any case, when I came back from the bathroom, the seat was taken. Right about this time, they were taking coats and giving us claim tickets, and waiters were putting the white table napkins in our laps. At this point, my annoyance with the situation was growing.
It took forever for them to take our drink orders. One guy to the left of me was charitable enough to try and make conversation, but everyone to the right of me was cold as ice. I took a look at the menu, and the cheapest thing was $21. Seeing that this was going nowhere, I went to the bathroom again. And then I said to myself, “fuck this” and asked the host to fetch my coat and scarf. He asked if I wouldn’t be joining them for dinner, and I said, “you better believe it, buddy” and left.
I went down the street to the greasy spoon, which made a damned good burger, and with fries and drink came to a little over $6. Also, I drank $1 Rolling Rocks for a bit while I was waiting for food and playing blackjack. It was much better than hanging around with a bunch of self-important, stuffy types.
I think that I did what I did is because hanging out with rich people makes me nervous. Or perhaps it was the fact that there were a bunch of 20-somethings acting like they are Rockafellers. I also don’t particularly enjoying being pawed at by endless restaurant service people. I respect the fact that they are able to make a living doing it, but it just wasn’t for me. I mean let’s face it: all these people that I was with would have been more satisfied with the $6.95 prime rib buffet, but the feel the need to be seen at this pretentious place. Then again, this is probably just a result of my insecurities, but the hypocrisy of these people is too much to bear. Most of these people proclaim themselves as the biggest liberals ever and they work for “The Man” - - and when I mean The Man, I mean of the worse kind of “man”: power companies, insurance companies, and multi-million dollar corporations that fire people because they missed too many days of work, as they were in the hospital when missing work. I’m the Republican here - - I’m the one that should be working for the man!
Well, I guess if I made as much cash as they did, I suppose I’d sell out too. However, at least I would admit that I’m a sellout. Sure, I would be just as much of a hypocrite, but at least I’d be honest about it. On the other hand, I’ve never said that I’m in this for money, and while a little more would be nice, it’s not what I value about my job. I don’t need to tell myself or any of you that there is little justice in this world, so none of this should come as a surprise.
So now I’m writing this from you at a Burger King in Rapid City. And while it is true that there is no piano playing other than what is playing through my earphones, and the closest thing to cloth napkins is my wool scarf, it is far more comfortable for me here. I guess it just goes to show that some people never appreciate the finer things in life.
I think that they turned down the heat in here to get rid of me, because it’s damned cold. On the other hand, I’m sure the boys in back at the Flame Broiler ® are sweating their ass off, so they turned things down for them. It’s a funny thing because cooking the meat at the Arches was the hottest and dirtiest job, but I really liked it. It was a real challenge to try to keep up on all of the beef patties and chicken that needed to be cooked when it was busy. Also, it was nice because people always praised you for a job well done. Although, this was a two way street because if you really dragged ass one would be subjected to anything between a dirty look to being yelled at. I’ve been had both, and sadly, a little more of the latter than the former, but that’s the way it goes sometimes, I guess.
Well, I had better get going. No sense in hanging around here if all I’m going to do is bitch about people that I think are bad, when I’m probably just as bad or worse. After all, badness is just spoiled goodness. |
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| "No one ever taught you how to live out on the street..." |
[Feb. 10th, 2007|12:23 am] |
I am here in Deadwood for their Mardi Gras celebration, and I'm here posting to my journal. As you might expect, it's the most comfortable I have felt all night, as I get sick of dodging drunkards on the street, and worse still, dancing. I always feel uncomfortable at social events, and still I throw myself into them. This get very tiring. The way I figure it, though, is that it beats sitting at home watching Law and Order: SVU re-runs. I almost went home, but I decidd for one reason or another that this would be the better option.
In any case, I tried going to a Jaycees meeting in Pierre on Monday, and went to the appointed spot listed on the website, and alas, there was no meeting. As it turns out, the website is pretty old, and thus, this is how I was mis-informed. I found out that they are meeting this Monday at a member's house, which is a little intimidating, even for me. Who knows if I'll go...
I hate it when establishments stamp your hand at the door. I really hate being branded like cattle, almost as much as I hate stickers and nametags. No, I think that I liked being stamped less than either of those things. In any case, it's an annoying practice, and it makes me feel like a freshman in college again.
I'm so proud of my car. It takes me everywhere without complaint. It needs very little maitenance. Let's just hope that it stays that way...
As for this old house, it takes a lot to heat Bob Villa's dream. But it is a very comfortable house, and as John might say, a "Very, very, very fine house"
Per Luke's suggestion, I checked out "The Mollusk" video on You Tube. Highly recommended. The "Legomation" or what ever you would call it is very amusing, and of a high quality, methinks.
It's very beatiful here in Deadwood. Wish you all were here.
-Dan |
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| Hot Master |
[Jan. 30th, 2007|01:24 pm] |
First of all, congratulations to Mr. and Mrs. Metz. Shawn and Megan might be wondering why I left off the “K,” and quite frankly, it’s just easier to do it that way. Other abbreviations to the Kmetz name have included: Mertz (like the couple on “I Love Lucy”) and The Mess, which was used specifically to refer to Shawn, I suppose for ease, but often times it has been an accurate adjective.
In any case, you might be wondering why I am writing you during working hours, and it’s because I am on location and between clients. Plus, it’s good for me to type as professional development, as the faster I can type, the more work I can do, right? Yes, I realize that’s pretty lame explanation.
The weather is cold, although not as cold as it has been in year’s past. For example, I haven’t found it absolutely necessary to wear gloves, mittens, or choppers, which indicates it’s far from being “very cold.” Then again, I reside indoors much more now than I have in the past, so perhaps this isn’t an accurate barometer of how cold it is.
As many of you may have heard, I had my first jury trial on Friday, and luckily, I won. Jury trials are both exhilarating and scary, because you could have the strongest case in the world and still lose. Well, that’s the name of the game.
For lunch, as usual, I went to the Wonderful House II. Some of you might have heard me talk about the place in the past. They have hot mustard as a condiment, although they label it “Hot Master,” which I always find hilarious.
Let’s see...well that’s about it for now. Hopefully I’ll get internet one of these days, but by the way I spend money, it doesn’t look likely. Bills make me a very sad panda.
-Dan |
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dweeker's journal