DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
For the benefit of the doubters - and very much for myself - I just had to say "I TOLD YOU SO", in reply to my diatribe & stab at self-analysis from last night. Today I woke up groggy & wondering if anyone caught the license plate of the truck that hit me last night, but after an added hour of sleep, felt much better. And by the way, I didn't get trucked as in fucked up last night...wait, scratch that...I was fucked up, but not inebriated. Anyway, I found that all the digging around my soul sapped all my energy. I had a good vise-grip headache for about 90 minutes after I finished writing last night. I felt as if some weighted yoke had been lifted from my shoulders, and my head was a bit lighter, but I still wasn't myself.
Well, so far today, the Eagle has landed, and Brian is Back. I guess this validates my statement that I'm mood-swingy, which while bad, means that as much as I get in a funk, I can also head back the other direction. I know I'm not manic-depressant, I like to think I'm just human. As it turns out I needed some good brooding & sleep to get past yesterday. Today's a new day, and I have a new outlook. I'm kinda sorta ready to curbstomp shit today, and make it look effortless. Today is the C4 day: Calm, Cool, Collected, Confident for me. And that's good, cuz I had enough psycho thoughts through yesterday and into last night for both me and Norman Bates.
So it's time to lock & load, get ready to head to the office this afternoon to get some shit done. I'm feeling positive, productive, and ready to answer the call when the next person hits the panic switch.
Have a great day all. I know I will.
One Love.
Thursday, March 17, 2011
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
I Am What I Am
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
I'm prone to mood swings, a not-so-great side of me that's caused more than it's fair share of problems in my past. Little things eat at me. I can feel the acidic angst eating away a thin veneer of steel in my gut, and when it breaches that shell, it burns. Even though I've tried to tell myself "it doesn't matter", "it shouldn't matter", it still does. Others have tried to get through to me using similar strategy, potentially different tactics. I've had family lecture in scorn, ex's shun, friends desert. Everyone tries to get me to "just drop it". The message rarely varies from a theme all-too-often heard. And yes, in a way, inside my selfish room-for-one at the Agony Inn, I'll admit they're right. Life is short. Too short to waste minutes or hours, let alone days, letting the little things fester. But yet, as much as I acknowledge the truth, I continue these little self-destructive cycles, letting myself get pulled into the eddy of darkness.
And then there's the other side of me, the Eagle that soars above it all. Allow me to explain. I am a Scorpio, born November 5. When I was a young adult my mother gave me a book on astrology by Linda Goodman. If I'm not mistaken, the title of her book is Sun Signs. If you're at all interested in astrology & want to know what makes yourself or someone else tick, by all means pick it up. The book covers all the astrological signs from Aries to Pisces. The author paints a picture of each sign in widescreen, and then narrows the focus to the man, woman, child, and boss of each sign. Upon receiving the book I immediately sequestered myself to the confines of my bedroom, laid down, and read the section on Scorpio. And again. As I read the words it dawned on me. Answers to so many questions I'd had about myself were answered. As I've aged I see more & more Scorpio in me. I couldn't hide who I am nor deny my nature if I tried. But of course, the Scorpio - knowing him/herself so well for better or worse - will never do that. Back to the Eagle reference. The Scorpio has three sides, or animal representations of himself. The Scorpio, the gray lizard, and the eagle. The Eagle chooses to ignore injustice, and in seeking Right, soars above it all. The Scorpio, when wronged, stings. And stings. And stings, sometimes to the point of killing itself. And the gray lizard, well the gray lizard lets things boil, seethe, and ruminates on issues to no end.
Where was I? Ah yes, trying to soar like the Eagle. The Eagle side of me is born & bred to face adversity, and of course, triumph. Give the oogie boogies an ass-beating of a lifetime & banish them for good. The Eagle is the side of the Scorpio fireman that sheds fear & self-concern to rescue victims from a towering inferno; the GI that charges machine gun nests to divert fire from his platoon mates. But the Eagle also forgives, and forgets. I do have Eagle within me. I haven't had a disastrous life, but I've survived my fair share of shit. The Eagle is the side of a Scorpio that triumphs in the face of certain defeat. So I know I have it within me to get down, but then get up, and get over. But there are times the Eagle cannot fly, and the gray lizard emerges.
It's the gray lizard that lets the little things get to him, and my gray lizard has been running the show the past couple of days. I know that, especially when it comes to the workplace, everyone of us is expendable. But some days that hardly seems so. After a fantastic long weekend I attended an off-site work function yesterday, and mostly enjoyed myself. But once I got home & logged into the work network, the firestorm raged out of control. Problems here, problems there. Chicken Littles many, declaring the sky is falling. I felt like Atlas, holding up the world. Expectations unmet, demands running rampant, and minor emergencies all laid at my doorstep, whether they belonged there or not. What choice do I have? As there's only one of me, there is no "divide & conquer", I am an Army of One. And the Army of One was called on again today, and put through a bloody firefight. More impossible expectations, time over-scheduled, an avalanche of demands thundering down the mountainside, bound straight for my head.
In my place of work I have a unique set of skills. This is at once a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because in many ways it makes me a more vital cog in the machine than one person should rightfully be. It's a curse because, well, no one can what I do, like I do it. You may think me braggart for dubbing myself an Army of One, but it's no exaggeration. I have very little backup for my position. I don't have the luxury of sending an email to a colleague & attaching the problems at hand for them to cope with. In theory this is great for the check writers - it reduces overhead by multitasking resources. But it's also inherently dangerous, as there's no "hit by the bus" list. If I win the lottery & take flight or lose touch with my mental faculties & go off the deep end, there is no second choice. I am Plan B. So, the shit hits any one of five fans, it splatters on me.
I have something of a masochistic streak. Periodically I enjoy causing myself varying degrees of pain, just to see how much I can take and in the process, become stronger. This side of me relishes the challenge, mostly out of love and lust for the thrill of victory. I guess you'd say I have a hero complex in that sense. Like King Leonidas of Spartan fame, I put on my game face as I face the seemingly insurmountable odds of the Persian empire. Yes, I know Leonidas' end, but it's not mine. I triumph.
I can, and I usually do. And therein lies the rub: I know I have the skills, audacity, and talent to get things done. My track record proves this out. So why do I let many little fires ignite the whole forest? I wish I knew. That begs the initial question: what's the point? I abhor drama in my personal relationships, and I loathe to foster it, but I have the dubious talent of letting it consume me on occasion when it comes to work. I know everything will work out. It always does. All it takes is a deep breath, a clear head, and some tact. But there are days when I fail to muster one, let alone all three of those tools. When I self-analyze I think that maybe I'm waiting for the brush fire to ignite the mountainside, thus providing the opportunity to step in and save the day, playing the Hero once again.
Foolish, silly, and even self-aggrandizing in a way. The more efficient way to cope would be to adopt the catch line from a long-past deodorant commercial: "never let 'em see you sweat". I live with the duality of being fiery, molten, on the verge of eruption while also commanding a cool, calm, collected confidence that Michael Jordan would admire. It's a matter of which side I choose to indulge at a given time that's makes the difference. And I know this. I also know that my mental health would improve if I were to choose the C4 approach instead of the flamethrower. I also know that my personal relationships would improve. Perhaps some (aside from the familial ties that forever bind) would have lasted.
So here I sit, having some answers, but not all. I know what I do wrong, when, and to some degree why. But it's lacking an airtight answer to the question of why that keeps me up at night. Hopefully as time passes I get closer to the answer, and can get some sleep.
I'm prone to mood swings, a not-so-great side of me that's caused more than it's fair share of problems in my past. Little things eat at me. I can feel the acidic angst eating away a thin veneer of steel in my gut, and when it breaches that shell, it burns. Even though I've tried to tell myself "it doesn't matter", "it shouldn't matter", it still does. Others have tried to get through to me using similar strategy, potentially different tactics. I've had family lecture in scorn, ex's shun, friends desert. Everyone tries to get me to "just drop it". The message rarely varies from a theme all-too-often heard. And yes, in a way, inside my selfish room-for-one at the Agony Inn, I'll admit they're right. Life is short. Too short to waste minutes or hours, let alone days, letting the little things fester. But yet, as much as I acknowledge the truth, I continue these little self-destructive cycles, letting myself get pulled into the eddy of darkness.
And then there's the other side of me, the Eagle that soars above it all. Allow me to explain. I am a Scorpio, born November 5. When I was a young adult my mother gave me a book on astrology by Linda Goodman. If I'm not mistaken, the title of her book is Sun Signs. If you're at all interested in astrology & want to know what makes yourself or someone else tick, by all means pick it up. The book covers all the astrological signs from Aries to Pisces. The author paints a picture of each sign in widescreen, and then narrows the focus to the man, woman, child, and boss of each sign. Upon receiving the book I immediately sequestered myself to the confines of my bedroom, laid down, and read the section on Scorpio. And again. As I read the words it dawned on me. Answers to so many questions I'd had about myself were answered. As I've aged I see more & more Scorpio in me. I couldn't hide who I am nor deny my nature if I tried. But of course, the Scorpio - knowing him/herself so well for better or worse - will never do that. Back to the Eagle reference. The Scorpio has three sides, or animal representations of himself. The Scorpio, the gray lizard, and the eagle. The Eagle chooses to ignore injustice, and in seeking Right, soars above it all. The Scorpio, when wronged, stings. And stings. And stings, sometimes to the point of killing itself. And the gray lizard, well the gray lizard lets things boil, seethe, and ruminates on issues to no end.
Where was I? Ah yes, trying to soar like the Eagle. The Eagle side of me is born & bred to face adversity, and of course, triumph. Give the oogie boogies an ass-beating of a lifetime & banish them for good. The Eagle is the side of the Scorpio fireman that sheds fear & self-concern to rescue victims from a towering inferno; the GI that charges machine gun nests to divert fire from his platoon mates. But the Eagle also forgives, and forgets. I do have Eagle within me. I haven't had a disastrous life, but I've survived my fair share of shit. The Eagle is the side of a Scorpio that triumphs in the face of certain defeat. So I know I have it within me to get down, but then get up, and get over. But there are times the Eagle cannot fly, and the gray lizard emerges.
It's the gray lizard that lets the little things get to him, and my gray lizard has been running the show the past couple of days. I know that, especially when it comes to the workplace, everyone of us is expendable. But some days that hardly seems so. After a fantastic long weekend I attended an off-site work function yesterday, and mostly enjoyed myself. But once I got home & logged into the work network, the firestorm raged out of control. Problems here, problems there. Chicken Littles many, declaring the sky is falling. I felt like Atlas, holding up the world. Expectations unmet, demands running rampant, and minor emergencies all laid at my doorstep, whether they belonged there or not. What choice do I have? As there's only one of me, there is no "divide & conquer", I am an Army of One. And the Army of One was called on again today, and put through a bloody firefight. More impossible expectations, time over-scheduled, an avalanche of demands thundering down the mountainside, bound straight for my head.
In my place of work I have a unique set of skills. This is at once a blessing and a curse. It's a blessing because in many ways it makes me a more vital cog in the machine than one person should rightfully be. It's a curse because, well, no one can what I do, like I do it. You may think me braggart for dubbing myself an Army of One, but it's no exaggeration. I have very little backup for my position. I don't have the luxury of sending an email to a colleague & attaching the problems at hand for them to cope with. In theory this is great for the check writers - it reduces overhead by multitasking resources. But it's also inherently dangerous, as there's no "hit by the bus" list. If I win the lottery & take flight or lose touch with my mental faculties & go off the deep end, there is no second choice. I am Plan B. So, the shit hits any one of five fans, it splatters on me.
I have something of a masochistic streak. Periodically I enjoy causing myself varying degrees of pain, just to see how much I can take and in the process, become stronger. This side of me relishes the challenge, mostly out of love and lust for the thrill of victory. I guess you'd say I have a hero complex in that sense. Like King Leonidas of Spartan fame, I put on my game face as I face the seemingly insurmountable odds of the Persian empire. Yes, I know Leonidas' end, but it's not mine. I triumph.
I can, and I usually do. And therein lies the rub: I know I have the skills, audacity, and talent to get things done. My track record proves this out. So why do I let many little fires ignite the whole forest? I wish I knew. That begs the initial question: what's the point? I abhor drama in my personal relationships, and I loathe to foster it, but I have the dubious talent of letting it consume me on occasion when it comes to work. I know everything will work out. It always does. All it takes is a deep breath, a clear head, and some tact. But there are days when I fail to muster one, let alone all three of those tools. When I self-analyze I think that maybe I'm waiting for the brush fire to ignite the mountainside, thus providing the opportunity to step in and save the day, playing the Hero once again.
Foolish, silly, and even self-aggrandizing in a way. The more efficient way to cope would be to adopt the catch line from a long-past deodorant commercial: "never let 'em see you sweat". I live with the duality of being fiery, molten, on the verge of eruption while also commanding a cool, calm, collected confidence that Michael Jordan would admire. It's a matter of which side I choose to indulge at a given time that's makes the difference. And I know this. I also know that my mental health would improve if I were to choose the C4 approach instead of the flamethrower. I also know that my personal relationships would improve. Perhaps some (aside from the familial ties that forever bind) would have lasted.
So here I sit, having some answers, but not all. I know what I do wrong, when, and to some degree why. But it's lacking an airtight answer to the question of why that keeps me up at night. Hopefully as time passes I get closer to the answer, and can get some sleep.
Sunday, March 13, 2011
Life in 140 Characters or Less
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here. Also, today I'm writing naked, in honor of SL.
Confession: I have yet another habit which has now become a vice of sorts, just another to add to the long & distinguished (or is it disturbing) list. Twitter. #Srsly. I'm fully aware that in my "Joy of Being Single" post I referred to a budding use of Twitter, but at that point I was rubbing sticks together. Now I'm wielding a flame thrower, and am one among a cabal of sorts.
Like most everyone else in the social networking slice of the interweb I started on MySpace years ago, and eventually migrated to Facebook. I signed up for Twitter in '09 but didn't really start doing anything with it 'til this year. In the beginning I was the textbook definition of newbie: following celebrities mostly, but spending very little time on the site. The majority of time I spent social networking was on Facebook. Sharing pics with friends, making what were in retrospect pretty meaningless, mundane status updates. But I realized that that's all I was getting back in return. Endless streams of pixelated projectile diarrhea like "can't wait for hubby to get home", "Junior won his wrestling tournament", "the weather sucks/is gorgeous". Whatthefuckever. I edited myself for content due to the audience, but really, what fun is that? I think I was trying to be kind, figuring that not many people can handle The Truth. Throw in the fucking constant streams of shitty updates I got from TV shows that I happened to mention I like and Facebook became painful. Then there's FourSquare. If I ever see another "I just became the mayor of..." update I'm gonna commit hari kari, and I'm not kidding.
This is the point in the story where our hero has the epic awakening, or maybe just a cartoon light bulb above his head. And with that, I turned to Twitter. A couple of weeks I made a tongue-in-cheek tweet about trying to get a few more followers, to equal the number of people I was following. A tweep that was following me clued me in: follow the *real* people, and you'll 1) get more followers and more importantly 2) get more out of it.
Let me set the record straight: I think I'm entertaining, I know I'm intelligent but I'm not the type that needs validation from others to know who or what I am. I don't get an ego boost off of having people follow me. But still, everyone wants a little feedback, some constructive criticism (or some not so much), am I right?
So I took my new advice & put it to work. I started looking at the people my advisor followed, and who followed them. The beauty of Twitter is that you can get a pretty decent read on a person based on their profile & timeline of tweets & retweets. And lo & behold, what did I find? An amazing myriad of other people like me. Smart, funny, and more than just a little sick & twisted. Birds of a psychedelic feather have flocked together.
See, each tweet is 140 characters or less, so people can dispense with the petty bullshit & really share. What they (and I) share may be scary, but I think it's closer to the real truth than Facebook, and probably even many IRL (In Real Life) or face-to-face relationships. Yeah, there are some that are just reaching for a retweet or a star for fav tweet, but I'm smart enough to know that the majority are in the same boat I am. We're all undersexed, self-medicating, cynical, snide, insightful, insulting human beings. We're all sick of the same stuff: shitty jobs & shittier bosses, annoying neighbors, running out of booze or batteries, and Justin Bieber. We all cheered when Charlie Sheen went absolute from zero to apeshit at the speed of light. We all uttered a collective "woah" when the earthquake hit Japan (at least those of us who weren't unconscious). THESE PEOPLE ARE JUST LIKE ME.
And isn't that a comfort to say if/when you really find it and can mean it? Fuckin'-A it is. I learned I Am Not Alone. It's common knowledge that most of us only let a small part of our whole personality or character out at a given time, based on where we are & what role we're playing at that time. I have Employee Brian, Son Brian, Friend Brian, Cousin Brian, yada yada. You do too. But none of those roles is Really Me, Brian on 10. Self-editing yet again based on the audience. But on Twitter, I remove the rev limiter & turn that shit up to 11.
What you get from me here, and especially on Twitter, is me as I am, pure & unadulterated. No additives or fillers like the other Brians. Until Twitter, my head was the only place I found that freedom. But as much as I like to hear myself think, even my own words bouncing around my head gets old. So Twitter is where I found a new voice of sorts, and a new outlet. Like getting out a relationship & being alone, I'm learning new things about myself, and I like what I'm finding. I hope in a very sincere sense that this latest self-discovery will help me loosen up the reigns if not just be more honest when I play the other roles. But the big win is that I can finally let it all go. I'm so constrained in my day-to-day that this freedom is bliss. And it's funny as fuck too. If you believe that laughter is the best medicine, then Twitter has in effect doubled my dose. I've known some funny people, but not quite like those I follow on Twitter.
The beauty of Twitter is the 140 character limit. I struggle to find time to blog, but Twitter allows me to, in essence, mini-blog throughout the day. Even though I may not be writing much here, believe me, I'm writing. I still enjoy my protracted purge-fests like this, but like sex, every once in a while a quickie can be just as good, am I right? By Twitter's count I've had lots of good quickies lately. ; ) Author's aside: if that's true then why the fuck am I still so horny? We'll put that away for another time...
Twitter is strangely erotic, and sometimes downright raunchy. But it's never dull, never fails to leave me laughing & wanting more. It's good to know there are others out there that think & feel like me. As much as I've found others who are very much like me, we're also quite diverse, coming from around the world & all angles of the spectrum. Even though it's cyberspace I can solidly say I like some of these people & consider 'em friends, or friends-in-the-making. Twitter is the most stimulating conversation you can have with hundreds of your closest friends, near 24x7. What could be better?
Edit: this next paragraph just came to me & it's too on-point & apropos to omit from this post.
The other gift Twitter gave me is reinforcing the importance of personality & sense of humor. Experience has revealed that looks bring two people together, but it's what inside that keeps 'em together. When I meet a woman character & personality are of the utmost import. Lack of a sense of humor is a deal-breaker. The women I follow on Twitter are probably sicker, funnier, and more interesting than the men. If I have to say that they're sexier too you don't know my very well, but what the fuck, there it is. But it's the words, the attitude that make's them sexy. You take that away & all you're left with is a shell. It's almost like Shallow Hal, with Jack Black. Beauty without brains, character, and humor ends up being pretty boring.
I've also seen how quickly the communal conscience can shift. We're all now so connected that ideas catch fire & spread quickly. That's what Twitter is so goddam good at. I'm all for it, 'cuz I think it makes mobilization of the people faster & more fluid. The world needs change - including the US in a bad way - and sometimes this requires Revolution; not enough time to wait for Evolution. As we've seen in Libya, Egypt, Tunisia, Bahrain, Madison, WI., people are getting more involved, being agitated & therefore becoming activated. Some of the greatest changes in history have started with the groundswell of an idea that grows among the masses via grassroots movements. Twitter just makes that more possible, and more likely.
To wrap this shit up, there was a time I didn't understand what all the buzz was about Twitter. But once I jumped in I found the water was warm, and with many others in the same pool - some naked - I don't think I'm getting out any time soon.
Confession: I have yet another habit which has now become a vice of sorts, just another to add to the long & distinguished (or is it disturbing) list. Twitter. #Srsly. I'm fully aware that in my "Joy of Being Single" post I referred to a budding use of Twitter, but at that point I was rubbing sticks together. Now I'm wielding a flame thrower, and am one among a cabal of sorts.
Like most everyone else in the social networking slice of the interweb I started on MySpace years ago, and eventually migrated to Facebook. I signed up for Twitter in '09 but didn't really start doing anything with it 'til this year. In the beginning I was the textbook definition of newbie: following celebrities mostly, but spending very little time on the site. The majority of time I spent social networking was on Facebook. Sharing pics with friends, making what were in retrospect pretty meaningless, mundane status updates. But I realized that that's all I was getting back in return. Endless streams of pixelated projectile diarrhea like "can't wait for hubby to get home", "Junior won his wrestling tournament", "the weather sucks/is gorgeous". Whatthefuckever. I edited myself for content due to the audience, but really, what fun is that? I think I was trying to be kind, figuring that not many people can handle The Truth. Throw in the fucking constant streams of shitty updates I got from TV shows that I happened to mention I like and Facebook became painful. Then there's FourSquare. If I ever see another "I just became the mayor of..." update I'm gonna commit hari kari, and I'm not kidding.
This is the point in the story where our hero has the epic awakening, or maybe just a cartoon light bulb above his head. And with that, I turned to Twitter. A couple of weeks I made a tongue-in-cheek tweet about trying to get a few more followers, to equal the number of people I was following. A tweep that was following me clued me in: follow the *real* people, and you'll 1) get more followers and more importantly 2) get more out of it.
Let me set the record straight: I think I'm entertaining, I know I'm intelligent but I'm not the type that needs validation from others to know who or what I am. I don't get an ego boost off of having people follow me. But still, everyone wants a little feedback, some constructive criticism (or some not so much), am I right?
So I took my new advice & put it to work. I started looking at the people my advisor followed, and who followed them. The beauty of Twitter is that you can get a pretty decent read on a person based on their profile & timeline of tweets & retweets. And lo & behold, what did I find? An amazing myriad of other people like me. Smart, funny, and more than just a little sick & twisted. Birds of a psychedelic feather have flocked together.
See, each tweet is 140 characters or less, so people can dispense with the petty bullshit & really share. What they (and I) share may be scary, but I think it's closer to the real truth than Facebook, and probably even many IRL (In Real Life) or face-to-face relationships. Yeah, there are some that are just reaching for a retweet or a star for fav tweet, but I'm smart enough to know that the majority are in the same boat I am. We're all undersexed, self-medicating, cynical, snide, insightful, insulting human beings. We're all sick of the same stuff: shitty jobs & shittier bosses, annoying neighbors, running out of booze or batteries, and Justin Bieber. We all cheered when Charlie Sheen went absolute from zero to apeshit at the speed of light. We all uttered a collective "woah" when the earthquake hit Japan (at least those of us who weren't unconscious). THESE PEOPLE ARE JUST LIKE ME.
And isn't that a comfort to say if/when you really find it and can mean it? Fuckin'-A it is. I learned I Am Not Alone. It's common knowledge that most of us only let a small part of our whole personality or character out at a given time, based on where we are & what role we're playing at that time. I have Employee Brian, Son Brian, Friend Brian, Cousin Brian, yada yada. You do too. But none of those roles is Really Me, Brian on 10. Self-editing yet again based on the audience. But on Twitter, I remove the rev limiter & turn that shit up to 11.
What you get from me here, and especially on Twitter, is me as I am, pure & unadulterated. No additives or fillers like the other Brians. Until Twitter, my head was the only place I found that freedom. But as much as I like to hear myself think, even my own words bouncing around my head gets old. So Twitter is where I found a new voice of sorts, and a new outlet. Like getting out a relationship & being alone, I'm learning new things about myself, and I like what I'm finding. I hope in a very sincere sense that this latest self-discovery will help me loosen up the reigns if not just be more honest when I play the other roles. But the big win is that I can finally let it all go. I'm so constrained in my day-to-day that this freedom is bliss. And it's funny as fuck too. If you believe that laughter is the best medicine, then Twitter has in effect doubled my dose. I've known some funny people, but not quite like those I follow on Twitter.
The beauty of Twitter is the 140 character limit. I struggle to find time to blog, but Twitter allows me to, in essence, mini-blog throughout the day. Even though I may not be writing much here, believe me, I'm writing. I still enjoy my protracted purge-fests like this, but like sex, every once in a while a quickie can be just as good, am I right? By Twitter's count I've had lots of good quickies lately. ; ) Author's aside: if that's true then why the fuck am I still so horny? We'll put that away for another time...
Twitter is strangely erotic, and sometimes downright raunchy. But it's never dull, never fails to leave me laughing & wanting more. It's good to know there are others out there that think & feel like me. As much as I've found others who are very much like me, we're also quite diverse, coming from around the world & all angles of the spectrum. Even though it's cyberspace I can solidly say I like some of these people & consider 'em friends, or friends-in-the-making. Twitter is the most stimulating conversation you can have with hundreds of your closest friends, near 24x7. What could be better?
Edit: this next paragraph just came to me & it's too on-point & apropos to omit from this post.
The other gift Twitter gave me is reinforcing the importance of personality & sense of humor. Experience has revealed that looks bring two people together, but it's what inside that keeps 'em together. When I meet a woman character & personality are of the utmost import. Lack of a sense of humor is a deal-breaker. The women I follow on Twitter are probably sicker, funnier, and more interesting than the men. If I have to say that they're sexier too you don't know my very well, but what the fuck, there it is. But it's the words, the attitude that make's them sexy. You take that away & all you're left with is a shell. It's almost like Shallow Hal, with Jack Black. Beauty without brains, character, and humor ends up being pretty boring.
I've also seen how quickly the communal conscience can shift. We're all now so connected that ideas catch fire & spread quickly. That's what Twitter is so goddam good at. I'm all for it, 'cuz I think it makes mobilization of the people faster & more fluid. The world needs change - including the US in a bad way - and sometimes this requires Revolution; not enough time to wait for Evolution. As we've seen in Libya, Egypt, Tunisia, Bahrain, Madison, WI., people are getting more involved, being agitated & therefore becoming activated. Some of the greatest changes in history have started with the groundswell of an idea that grows among the masses via grassroots movements. Twitter just makes that more possible, and more likely.
To wrap this shit up, there was a time I didn't understand what all the buzz was about Twitter. But once I jumped in I found the water was warm, and with many others in the same pool - some naked - I don't think I'm getting out any time soon.
Saturday, March 5, 2011
Why is it so hard? That's what she said.
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
I couldn't resist the reference to Michael Scott of The Office. On a total aside & totally unrelated to what I was originally going to write, I'll be interested to see what this show is like once Steve Carell leaves.
Now back to the regularly scheduled programming.
Like (most) everyone else in the US, I'm getting ready to do my taxes. I've used Turbo Tax for the past few years, and it works well. But it begs the question: why is the US tax so fucking complex, so damn hard? It's like Chinese math. I'm a college grad, and I consider myself pretty smart, with occasional moments of brilliance. And even tho I'm a man, I'm pretty good about reading directions. Especially if said directions will prevent the IRS from giving me a rectal audit. So with all this going for me, shouldn't it be feasible for me to do my taxes by hand? Before I bought a house & built some menial investments taxes were easy, 1040EZ or whatever, done by hand, easy peasy. But now? I wouldn't dare. Wouldn't it benefit everyone (save for the IRS) to simplify the tax code? The Congress could use time spent debating & studying tax codes on other efforts. Like getting along for one. We could downsize the IRS & save money in the federal budget. I guess all the tax prep services like H&R Block would be pretty pissed, CPA's might become extinct (most are boring as shit anyway), and the rich would bitch about not having loopholes to exploit, but I won't cry for them, Argentina. So I'm all for it. Implement a flat tax for all & get on with it.
If you haven't seen the show Accidental Genius on the NatGeo channel, you should. Here's the show's web site.
It's a very cool show, and really made me think about the wonder of the human brain, and how little we really know about it. You should definitely watch the episode about the guy that bonked his head while diving into a swimming pool, and after which he was a musical savant. I meant to recommend this show cuz it is well-done & provocative, but it's also a segue to (or maybe from) another thought I had. And that is: how do we wake up with certain songs in our heads? Five days a week my alarm goes off & I get outta bed. And somewhere within the first five minutes of being awake, I have a song running through my head. Often it's a song I haven't heard in quite some time. It's not like I wake up to the last song I was listening to on my iPod, or some ditty from a TV advert. So I gotta wonder, where does this come from? What is it in my brain that recalls this particular song when it does? Super-duper trivial I know, but it still makes me wonder.
I fuckin' hate to do this, but I'm ending this blog entry....now. My thoughts just aren't flowing as they should, and putting together something that I think is informative & entertaining is a struggle today. So before I just spew more bland, perfectly average bullshit, I'm gonna stop. I'll try better next time, I promise, and hopefully have something more worthwhile & cogent to contribute.
I couldn't resist the reference to Michael Scott of The Office. On a total aside & totally unrelated to what I was originally going to write, I'll be interested to see what this show is like once Steve Carell leaves.
Now back to the regularly scheduled programming.
Like (most) everyone else in the US, I'm getting ready to do my taxes. I've used Turbo Tax for the past few years, and it works well. But it begs the question: why is the US tax so fucking complex, so damn hard? It's like Chinese math. I'm a college grad, and I consider myself pretty smart, with occasional moments of brilliance. And even tho I'm a man, I'm pretty good about reading directions. Especially if said directions will prevent the IRS from giving me a rectal audit. So with all this going for me, shouldn't it be feasible for me to do my taxes by hand? Before I bought a house & built some menial investments taxes were easy, 1040EZ or whatever, done by hand, easy peasy. But now? I wouldn't dare. Wouldn't it benefit everyone (save for the IRS) to simplify the tax code? The Congress could use time spent debating & studying tax codes on other efforts. Like getting along for one. We could downsize the IRS & save money in the federal budget. I guess all the tax prep services like H&R Block would be pretty pissed, CPA's might become extinct (most are boring as shit anyway), and the rich would bitch about not having loopholes to exploit, but I won't cry for them, Argentina. So I'm all for it. Implement a flat tax for all & get on with it.
If you haven't seen the show Accidental Genius on the NatGeo channel, you should. Here's the show's web site.
It's a very cool show, and really made me think about the wonder of the human brain, and how little we really know about it. You should definitely watch the episode about the guy that bonked his head while diving into a swimming pool, and after which he was a musical savant. I meant to recommend this show cuz it is well-done & provocative, but it's also a segue to (or maybe from) another thought I had. And that is: how do we wake up with certain songs in our heads? Five days a week my alarm goes off & I get outta bed. And somewhere within the first five minutes of being awake, I have a song running through my head. Often it's a song I haven't heard in quite some time. It's not like I wake up to the last song I was listening to on my iPod, or some ditty from a TV advert. So I gotta wonder, where does this come from? What is it in my brain that recalls this particular song when it does? Super-duper trivial I know, but it still makes me wonder.
I fuckin' hate to do this, but I'm ending this blog entry....now. My thoughts just aren't flowing as they should, and putting together something that I think is informative & entertaining is a struggle today. So before I just spew more bland, perfectly average bullshit, I'm gonna stop. I'll try better next time, I promise, and hopefully have something more worthwhile & cogent to contribute.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
The Joy of Being Single
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
It's been a while since I've blogged, long overdue. I've been blogging in a way, more like micro-blogging via Twitter. I was really skeptical about Twitter to begin with, but I've found it's usefulness to me: just shooting out the random little thoughts that occur to me during the day. I don't have a particular slant or purpose (other than to entertain) nor a specific theme I Tweet about, I just let it go. But as much as I enjoy it I know I need to blog more & concentrate on writing a piece on a singular theme. So that's why I'm back.
Anyway, on to the theme of being single. I guess this came to me as Valentine's Day is a couple of days away, and well, I'm single. I'm not a hater single with an axe to grind against happy couples. That's not me by any stretch. I'm single, and am very happy being so. With the exception of one three-month relationship in '09, I've been single since July '07 (or maybe earlier depending on when you peg the end of my last relationship).
There's a vast, important difference between being alone and being lonely. I'm the former, certainly not the latter. I've come to like being on my own, and aside from work & civil law, really being accountable to no one but myself. Three days a week I make an appearance at the office, sit in my bunker (cube), and socialize with my co-workers, some of whom I consider true friends. I come home & connect with friends via Facebook, and with other people via Twitter. So while I live alone, I'm not really 'alone', and I'm a far cry from lonely.
For one, I have two dogs who generously allow me to share their house. My dogs are great companions. I got my first dog Kaya in '98, when she was 8 weeks old.
It's been a while since I've blogged, long overdue. I've been blogging in a way, more like micro-blogging via Twitter. I was really skeptical about Twitter to begin with, but I've found it's usefulness to me: just shooting out the random little thoughts that occur to me during the day. I don't have a particular slant or purpose (other than to entertain) nor a specific theme I Tweet about, I just let it go. But as much as I enjoy it I know I need to blog more & concentrate on writing a piece on a singular theme. So that's why I'm back.
Anyway, on to the theme of being single. I guess this came to me as Valentine's Day is a couple of days away, and well, I'm single. I'm not a hater single with an axe to grind against happy couples. That's not me by any stretch. I'm single, and am very happy being so. With the exception of one three-month relationship in '09, I've been single since July '07 (or maybe earlier depending on when you peg the end of my last relationship).
There's a vast, important difference between being alone and being lonely. I'm the former, certainly not the latter. I've come to like being on my own, and aside from work & civil law, really being accountable to no one but myself. Three days a week I make an appearance at the office, sit in my bunker (cube), and socialize with my co-workers, some of whom I consider true friends. I come home & connect with friends via Facebook, and with other people via Twitter. So while I live alone, I'm not really 'alone', and I'm a far cry from lonely.
For one, I have two dogs who generously allow me to share their house. My dogs are great companions. I got my first dog Kaya in '98, when she was 8 weeks old.
At that time I had two roommates, and even living with them & having a very active social life, she still became a great friend, a great partner. I mention this just to put to rest any premature diagnosis of "another single guy overly attached to his pets & using them to compensate for lack of a relationship". But for those who have shared their lives with companion animals, you understand what I'm saying & where I'm going.
So I have my dogs, and I have face time with my friends at work. I have the Bay Area MINI owners too, who are a great group. I have regular, healthy contact with my family. So with all this, yeah I'm alone, but I'm certainly not lonely. In fact, there are days that I cannot wait to get home to the peace & quiet of my own home, enjoy & fill my own space but get away from Everyone Else.
I think it's healthy to have time by yourself. I'm highly suspicious of people that hop from one relationship to the next without time to breathe in between. If I meet a woman like that or sense that pattern, I'm downright wary if not heading the opposite direction. Everyone needs to spend sometime on their own. Give you a chance to get to know yourself, to like yourself & love yourself. It's kinda true that you have to reach that level f & have that ability before you can really do the same for another.
And of course being single means being totally in control of your schedule. That's an obvious one, I'll admit. But it's true. I eat when I want, watch what I want on TV, spend as much time on the computer as I want. I dress how I want, stay up as late or get up as early as I want. In the car it's my choice of music, and as loud as I fucking want it. It's Freedom. And it's nice. I spent 8+ years of my life committed to one woman & her two sons. I worked for them, provided for them, subjugated my wants for them, supported them, and in essence lived my life for them. Except for the moronic financial decisions I made as part of that couple & the aftershock of said calamity, I don't regret it. It's totally giving yourself to another or others. But on the flip side I realize I lost a lot of myself. Brian the individual didn't really exist as such. In that sense it wasn't the healthiest of relationships, but that's not what this post is all about.
I realized after I physically left that relationship how much I gave, and how much (of me) I had lost. All that has been rediscovered over the past 3.5 years. Currently I answer to my boss, my family, my dogs, and that sense of what I consider to be Right. I could call it God, or my calling to be a good world citizen, or simply my conscience, but it all results in the same behavior. I'm a much more diverse person today as compared to who I was in July '07.
After going through all of that I have a new perspective on life, and on relationships. I know that you really need someone that complements you and can be part of your life, not your whole life. A relationship should be a Want, not a Need.
It took me a long time to get to where I am now, but I guess it was a journey that had to be taken. I'm 41, but I don't stress about getting married or having kids of my own. If it happens, it happens, and it's meant to be. If it doesn't, it doesn't. I've come to learn that all things happen when the time is right, when it's supposed to. I try to take care of myself, and deliver what's expected to those to whom I'm accountable, and to Live Right. But beyond that I don't sweat it, I don't get antsy or anxious about being alone. I'm confident it'll happen - I'll find the next relationship - when the time is right for me and for whomever the future woman might be.
I hope that you can feel the same if you're not in a relationship. And if you are, make sure it's balanced & healthy, and that you are yourself, and true to yourself.
Saturday, December 18, 2010
My Obsession (well, just one of 'em anyway)
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
I'm just gonna come right out & say it: I have an unhealthy attachment to my car. Just so you're not surprised, I refer to my car as "her", "she", and by her name: Ruffian. Yes, I named my car. Hey, I warned you about this two sentences ago.
I brought her home on Sept. 25, 2010. She, Ruffian, is a 2006 MINI Cooper S. 6-speed manual transmission. British Racing Green with white mirrors & roof. She is as almost as decked-out as you can order a MINI, she is special, and she is mine. Here she is:
I'm just gonna come right out & say it: I have an unhealthy attachment to my car. Just so you're not surprised, I refer to my car as "her", "she", and by her name: Ruffian. Yes, I named my car. Hey, I warned you about this two sentences ago.
I brought her home on Sept. 25, 2010. She, Ruffian, is a 2006 MINI Cooper S. 6-speed manual transmission. British Racing Green with white mirrors & roof. She is as almost as decked-out as you can order a MINI, she is special, and she is mine. Here she is:
The above photo is Ruffian's current state. Below is a photo taken by Boca Ciega Bay on the day I brought her home.
The only real difference is that I removed the factory bonnet stripes, and had some custom stripes installed on the bonnet & boot. That's hood and trunk, respectively, for the uninitiated. Speaking of which...the MINI (for those who don't know) is a hybrid of German & British engineering. The interior & exterior style belie the English roots of the original MINI, and the current cars (or at least mine) are assembled in Oxford, England. But as MINI is now owned by BMW, some of the mechanical workings & inner components are German. A word of advice: don't ever try to convince a MINI owner that their car is German, you'll be causing offense (or "offence").
Anyway, this car is my dream car (or one of 'em), and that somewhat fuels my attachment. See, like many other people, I daydream about winning the lottery. Ever since I saw MINI Coopers reappear stateside back in '02 or so, I wanted one. So I thought, as I sometimes do, if I hit the big money, what would I do, what would I buy? Yeah, Ferrari is at the top of the list, but I thought "my family would think I'm way over-the-top" if I ever bought an F-car, even if I could afford one. And shit, as a daily driver? Fun, but not wholly practical, and I'd be so worried about dings & getting keyed I think some of the thrill would actually be paranoia. And let's be real, the odds of winning the lottery are like the odds of finding a reasonable, sane , Republican. So, figuring what kinda income I'll have & what my expenses & priorities are, I figured that a MINI Cooper would be a realistic dream car, something I'd have a decent shot at actually owning some day.
My car is used, which means that someone else took the hit of depreciation. My baby had <30,000 miles when I brought her home, so with an average of 7500 miles/year, she's been gently owned. I had initial plans to buy new, and get a long-term loan (5 yrs), and spec out a modest new car.
A family member suggested I think about a used car, which did - and does - make a lot of sense in so many ways. So I started looking, and voila, found this beauty over in Brandon. On the surface, from what I learned via the online add, this car was all I was looking for, and then some. She's an S, which means this baby has a supercharged engine. She has the MINI sport package (better suspension, fog lights) and the premium package (sunroof & some other goodies), and a convenience package (integrated universal garage door opener, rain-sensing wipers, auto-on headlights), and special order wheels. She also has a two-tone leather interior, Xenon headlights, and an iPod adapter (factory). Ordering my own car, I could never have afforded leather, the third package, nor the iPod adapter. But buying used, I got all I had hoped for, and much much more. My first thoughts were to get a black car, but BRG (Brit. Racing Grn) was in my top 3 of favorite colors. The BRG is just a perfect color for a MINI, given the nationality & racing heritage, a properly spec'd car inside & out. So you can see why I think this car is my dream car.
In addition, Ruffian is an R53: the "first gen" build of the S, which ran from '02 - '06. This being said, I have a supercharger instead of a turbo charger, and I have a lovely burbling, rumbling exhaust note when I decelerate. I also hear the fantastic whine of the SC when it spools up around 3000 RPMs. This car is an auditory and visual delight. And then you drive the fucking thing.
See, the common first reaction to a MINI is "gee, isn't that a cute car?!", or some use the adjective "adorable". While the styling is unique, and very pleasing to my eye, I'll cede that it does have elements of the other two descriptors. But don't be fooled, this car is a beast. Auto reviewers say it has go-kart handling, and it sure does. This car corners as if it rides on rails. And the take-off of this car is impressive. I don't condone reckless driving, and excessive speeds should really be limited to a track or closed course, but I'll admit I have hit triple digit speeds in my MINI, just to see how it would feel, how she'd handle it. Well, the results were 1) rock solid and 2) famously well. This car is just stuck to the road (hence its popularity in autocross). But it also has plenty of giddyup.
I learned this as I brought the car home. I endured ten minutes of suburban driving to leave the dealership & get outta Brandon, hitting the interstate thereafter. I took I-4 north to 75 west to 275 south to get home - a nice stretch of higher speed driving. As I hit the on ramp I accelerated & shifted through the gears: 3rd, 4th, 5th, just waiting for some indication that the car was happy at a certain speed. But nope, she just kept pulling, and pulling, and pulling. MINIs have a great top end, and the torque exists throughout a wide range of RPMs. Shit, they really start to come alive, and the fun really begins at 4K revs. I was really expecting some sign from the car that we'd hit a happy cruising speed. My old Camry could handle 80+, but was really happy at about 70-75. As I've found out, this car makes 100 feel very comfortable, very manageable, and it's very clear there's more there.
One of the first thoughts I remember was "holy shit, she likes to run, just like a thoroughbred." So immediately I knew the car was a "she", and she seemed like a racehorse charging out of the gates, going faster. Faster. Faster. So after a quick ride home that had me smiling from ear to ear I started searching for famous/legendary thoroughbred fillies. And found about about Ruffian, a racer from the '70s. Ruffian won an ungodly number of races, and lost only her late one (during which she broke her leg), and never raced again. But, according to the knowledgeable fans of the sport, Ruffian is widely considered to be the best, most famous, renowned female racing horse in history. And hence the name was given, and it seems to fit.
My unhealthy attachment to my car, to Ruffian, causes me to say goodnight to her before I go to bed. Yes, I stick my head in the garage & tell my car goodnight, and to sleep well. When I'm at work I walk by the doors just to peek out at the parking lot. Not so uncommonly, I park farther away from store entrances so as to avoid other cars & wide-swinging doors that can so carelessly mar a nearby vehicle. As Ruffian is my baby, my dream car, I certainly have taken more interest in her appearance. In retrospect, I almost feel like I neglected my previous cars, as they never got the amount of attention Ruffian does. It could be the new car honeymoon, but I doubt it. The two hours I spend every other week or so caring for her is so worth it, and I feel bad when she's dirty & I don't have a chance to clean her up. I have an 11 step regimen I go through to clean her inside & out, from washing to spray waxing, from cleaning the wheels to applying tire black & a light coat of spray wax to prevent brake dust from sticking. She gets vacuumed, interior dusted, the whole nine yards. And my girl, she deserves it, and looks great for it. Ruffian has been & will continue to be a daily driver, and yes, being four years old she has some rock chips in her hood. But no dents, no major scratches. And I intend to keep her looking this way, as close to new as I can. And to that end the cleaning is well worth the time, and the money spent on supplies to keep my car looking her best.
I know when I drive Ruffian I have something unique. MINIs are obviously not "belly button cars" (everybody has one), this is no Mustang or Nissan Altima or Acura. The styling, the performance, the driving experience are all different when you drive a MINI. In fact, you don't "drive", you motor. ; ) You have a boot instead of a trunk, and a bonnet instead of a hood. You have a helluva lot of fun driving anywhere & everywhere, and a special feeling you get from few other cars. Many people who truly love cars & really love to drive, and have the money for the really upper end shit (Ferrari, Porsche, Maserati, etc.) have MINIs for daily drivers & as part of their stables. So, if it's good enough for that crowd, it's surely good enough for me, and worthy of anyone & everyone's respect, and my obsession.
So that's it. I've come clean & 'fessed up to being a car freak. Maybe not a total gearhead, but something of a speed freak, and certainly attached at the hip, and in spirit, to my car, my MINI, my girl, Ruffian.
Sunday, December 5, 2010
Long Overdue
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
It's been a long, long time since I've posted. If anyone was ever following me before, I'm sure they aren't now out of disinterest due to my inactivity, and I can't/couldn't blame 'em. One of my new changes of habit will be to keep up more regularly on my blogging if for no other reason than it's cathartic & a good way to flush the mental pipes, drain my brain now & then.
So, the random matters I've been ruminating on lately:
* We have a really beautiful planet, and it's a shame if we continue to ruin it. I was enjoying a brisk, windy day on Indian Rocks Beach just before sunset, spacing out listening to the waves, watching the birds flit about the water line when this came to me. As the top of the food chain & having the largest, harshest impact on our environment, we really need to do a better job taking care of it.
* We as a country need to take one deep breath & one big step forward, and finally legalize pot. Prohibition just does not work, haven't we learned that once already? We need to take advantage of the financial gains to be had, and get w/the times, not to mention probably see a decrease in the drug cartel violence along the Mexican border.
* Christmas really is a pretty cool season. This being the beginning of the second year in my house I put up a Christmas tree (artificial & pre-lit to be straight), and some lights outside the house. Even though there's no snow - and not bitching in the least - the decor makes it feel more Winterish & Christmas-y. (Fuck, did I really just use that word?!) No matter what, I'm enjoying it.
* I hate to work. I pretty much like my job, I'll admit, and I really like the people I work with. It's just that I hate to work, living by someone else's schedule. Not only that, but I don't think I'm taking advantage of all my talent, and feel like I'm meant for something more, something bigger. In the meantime I am challenged at my job; I can't say I've ever really been totally bored. I make a decent living at a decent company, and get some good benefits. So, I have to work for someone/something else, I think I've got it pretty good as it stands.
* I got a little envelope from Bonefish Grill in the mail this weekend. Inside was a gift card for $10, and a CD of some unknown (at least to me) artists, up & comers so to speak. I thought that was pretty cool. I did BFG & will go up for a pint or two & some Bang Bang shrimp soon, and the CD has 9 or so pretty good songs. I like hearing new music, and I thought it was cool that Bonefish did this. I'm already a fan of the place & the food, but this just kinda made me like them even moreso.
Alright, so I think that's it for now. I don't wanna ramble on too much w/o having some clear idea of where I'm heading or what I'm writing, so I'll wrap. But I think this is something I need to get back to, and will have to make a more concerted effort to do so. Ciao for now.
It's been a long, long time since I've posted. If anyone was ever following me before, I'm sure they aren't now out of disinterest due to my inactivity, and I can't/couldn't blame 'em. One of my new changes of habit will be to keep up more regularly on my blogging if for no other reason than it's cathartic & a good way to flush the mental pipes, drain my brain now & then.
So, the random matters I've been ruminating on lately:
* We have a really beautiful planet, and it's a shame if we continue to ruin it. I was enjoying a brisk, windy day on Indian Rocks Beach just before sunset, spacing out listening to the waves, watching the birds flit about the water line when this came to me. As the top of the food chain & having the largest, harshest impact on our environment, we really need to do a better job taking care of it.
* We as a country need to take one deep breath & one big step forward, and finally legalize pot. Prohibition just does not work, haven't we learned that once already? We need to take advantage of the financial gains to be had, and get w/the times, not to mention probably see a decrease in the drug cartel violence along the Mexican border.
* Christmas really is a pretty cool season. This being the beginning of the second year in my house I put up a Christmas tree (artificial & pre-lit to be straight), and some lights outside the house. Even though there's no snow - and not bitching in the least - the decor makes it feel more Winterish & Christmas-y. (Fuck, did I really just use that word?!) No matter what, I'm enjoying it.
* I hate to work. I pretty much like my job, I'll admit, and I really like the people I work with. It's just that I hate to work, living by someone else's schedule. Not only that, but I don't think I'm taking advantage of all my talent, and feel like I'm meant for something more, something bigger. In the meantime I am challenged at my job; I can't say I've ever really been totally bored. I make a decent living at a decent company, and get some good benefits. So, I have to work for someone/something else, I think I've got it pretty good as it stands.
* I got a little envelope from Bonefish Grill in the mail this weekend. Inside was a gift card for $10, and a CD of some unknown (at least to me) artists, up & comers so to speak. I thought that was pretty cool. I did BFG & will go up for a pint or two & some Bang Bang shrimp soon, and the CD has 9 or so pretty good songs. I like hearing new music, and I thought it was cool that Bonefish did this. I'm already a fan of the place & the food, but this just kinda made me like them even moreso.
Alright, so I think that's it for now. I don't wanna ramble on too much w/o having some clear idea of where I'm heading or what I'm writing, so I'll wrap. But I think this is something I need to get back to, and will have to make a more concerted effort to do so. Ciao for now.
Friday, June 4, 2010
The State of the Union
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
I have some pent-up angst to flush out. Much of it due to the Tea Party bullshit artists, the latest BP disaster, and the Goldman-Sachs legal issues. That's the backlog of shit on my mind & what's been grinding on my conscience, but the real trigger was a video a friend of mine posted on Facebook. It's a video of Jon Voight reading his - for lack of a better term - open letter to America. He blathers about Obama & how he's turning this into a socialist state, and he also mentions that capitalism is the bedrock of America, and how it's the only true way that we'll succeed.
Well, let me shoot a couple of holes in his letter. First, I think that most Americans go into some sort of tizzy when they hear the word "socialist". The conjure up images of Nazi Germany or the USSR of the Cold War. But think about this: the US was originally a socialist state. What I mean is that when the pilgrims traversed the Atlantic, they established colonies & settlements. What were these colonies? Social living. Everyone shared food, water, and other resources. Everyone worked together to raise buildings & establish shelter. It was not an every-man-for-himself (or woman-for-herself) society. If it would've been that way, we wouldn't be where we are now. The colonists would've perished without working together. To quote a line from the Lost character Jack Shephard: "either we live together, or we die alone".
I don't think our nation is at such a critical tipping point now where if we refuse to work together we all die, but the concept still holds true. I think that so many people have gotten so greedy that the thought of sharing resources with another is abhorrent. This isn't standing on principle, or protecting what you've earned, this is greed. This is lack of concern for one another. I don't believe anyone thinks of the credo "I am my brother's keeper" anymore. That has totally gone by the wayside.
I firmly believe in a theory or concept of communal good. As I prosper, so will you. As you prosper, so will your neighbor. It's a chain effect: if one wins, we all win. But that sentiment has been totally lost along the way. So has the philosophy of the greatest good of the greatest many being the primary concern of any society. It so happens that those people bitching about the socialism are the richest in this country, or just the greediest. But let's look at the rich. Something like 90% of the wealth is held by 2% of the population. If we use the second philosophical tenet I mention, they'd have no say, as they are the clear minority, and their welfare should not, and would not, be the concern of the majority. So many people were opposed to HCR (healthcare reform), as the Republicans & Teabaggers painted HCR as redistribution of wealth. Like we were really taking money from the rich & giving to the poor. In reality individuals making over $250k and couples making over $400k would pay higher taxes, yes. But is this money going directly into the pockets of the underprivileged? Nope. It would be used to pay for visits to the doctor. And frankly, if one person makes 1/4 of a million dollars, or two people make just shy of one half million, I have zero sympathy for the extra 2% or 3% tax they'll pay. If you make that much, you should. And if it really REALLY hurts you, then you might wanna scale back your lifestyle & get real, get with the fucking times.
Now, let's get to capitalism, one of Voight's points. Jon seems to think that capitalism is just the shit, the best thing since sliced bread. With that in mind, what are the two biggest crises we've faced lately? One is the economic crash of '08, the other is the Deepwater Horizon disaster. At the core, what was the cause of both of these events? It was part greed, part lack of regulation, and both of those in pursuit of MONEY. This is capitalism folks: doing whatever it takes to allow business to make money.
Goldman-Sachs, as we now know, put together some very very dicey mortgage-backed securities, which it peddled to investors. And oh yeah, G-S 1) knew these securities would lose money and 2) bet money that they would. G-S put together losing propositions, made money when selling them, then hedged their bets in the event that the inevitable happens, and they fail. G-S made millions or billions on these deals. And it wasn't just one broker or financial wiz that is culpable, it goes way up into the executive ranks. So there's the greed part. There was also a gross lack of regulation or oversight of these securities. The gov't didn't know enough about the securities to look into them efficiently or closely, or recognize the warning signs or foul stench of poison. And even if they did, there are enough smarties in finance to work their way through loopholes in the regulations. And what happened? Well, the housing market collapsed, the stock market almost went 100% Titanic on us, millions of people lost trillions of dollars of wealth, and millions lost their jobs. Two years later and the recovery is still shaky at best, if you can even call it a recovery, and I'm not so sure about that. We're out of free-fall, and maybe the economy is growing a little. But this ain't no fuckin' recovery. Just ask the millions of people who've exhausted unemployment benefits & are still no closer to a job than they were at this time last year. And who shall we thank for this? Wall Street. Lehman Brothers. Bear-Stearns. G-S. And all the rest.
For the sake of brevity I won't even get into the Wankers of Wall Street & how they went right back to giving exec's & portfolio managers utterly gross bonuses while the rest of the country is still rotting. That's another topic for another time.
As for BP, by now we know that we have the biggest environmental disaster in our country's history on our hands. I live on the Gulf Coast of Florida, and while I'm not in the panhandle & haven't seen tar balls on my beaches yet, nor wildlife coated in crude, the thought horrifies me. Again, for brevity, I won't go into this much as it enrages me & brings me to tears at the same time. But let's look at the root cause of this event. As with G-S, it's greed, and lack of regulation. BP is pushing the limits of safe offshore drilling in the name of bringing in more profits. Making money for exec's & stockholders, and no worries for the collateral damage. Along the way they ignored obvious risk, and did nothing to mitigate it. As BP exec's admitted this week they didn't have the tools in their toolbox to deal w/a disaster like this. It's like jumping out of an airplane w/a poorly packed 'chute, and no backup. Unfortunately, in the real world, there are millions of people that will suffer, millions of animals, and millions of acres of precious, fragile ecosystem. It'd be one thing if the jackholes at BP jumped outta the plane & put only themselves at risk. Instead, they've imperiled thousands of people & animals, and have done damage that will take years to repair. If it can be repaired.
So, greed was the impetus, that's pretty easy. What's equally easy to see is that our gov't let BP get away w/this. Our gov't & its regulatory bodies were very lax on enforcement of safety measures. The Canadian gov't doesn't allow offshore drilling w/out the presence of relief wells ahead of time. Oh yeah, relief wells might stem the hundreds of thousands of gallons of oil spilling into the Gulf. Whoops! The US gov't lacks that requirement, and BP is now drilling relief wells, which should be ready in another couple of months! The broken pipe is spilling - according to realistic estimates - between 400k & one million gallons of oil into the Gulf each day. Do the math & multiply the low end of the estimate by 60, see what you get. The guesstimates at how much oil has REALLY spilled, and how much might spill before the well is capped, and where the oil will go, as total SWAGs: Serious Wild Ass Guesses. They're talking about the oil reaching the Atlantic coast of FL, and up into the Carolina's. How many fucking miles of coastline is that? How many thousands of people will be impacted when they can no longer fish or shrimp, bring in clams? What about the charter captains of sport fishing boats? Those that run snorkel & SCUBA operations? The thousands that depend on the tourism industry? Let me be clear: this is important, but in my mind not nearly as important as the ecosystems that could be decimated, ruined, totally fucked, and the potentially irreparable harm. And the birds, fish, manatees, all the wildlife. And again, how did this happen?
Former oil execs working for the MMS (Minerals Management Service) & other gov't agencies that were supposed to be looking out for the safety of workers on the rigs and surrounding waters & coastlines. But the old boys club rules are in effect here, so why would former oil company exec's or workers want to impose stringent regulations on their former employers or cronies? Gee, that might cut into the profit margins! And after all, a big-time spill will never happen. Right? Well, look at where we are now.
So, those are two of the biggest disasters we've experienced in the last 24 months. And trust me, we won't recover in the next 24. And what got us here? That's the important lesson: greed, and lack of self-control (regulation). They say that the most valuable lessons are learned from the most painful experiences. Well, I guess we'll all learn some SERIOUS shit then, won't we? I can only hope so. Those who do not learn from history are doomed to repeat it. I don't think that's something we can afford, do you?
Saturday, June 27, 2009
Comments made under your breath are best kept to yourself
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
OK, so I had a long-ass day at work yesterday. Got into the office before 7:30am, left around 7:15pm. That makes for almost 12 hours (more if you include the commute), and one tired Brian. I leave work & decide to stop by the liquor store on my way home to pick up a bottle of - big shocker - vodka for the weekend. I swing into the parking lot and slot myself into the first open parking spot at what was probably a faster-than-normal speed, but absolutely under control. No squealing tires, no thundering music.
As I swung in three people were walking from the adjacent grocery store to their car. I know it was a woman in her late 20's to early 30's, her elementary school-aged daughter, and one other person. As I exit my car & walk past them, I hear the mother saying "that's somebody who's driving way too fast & just has to get to the liquor store". She said it in such a tone that the comment was made to someone in her party, but obviously said loud enough for me to overhear, and I'm sure was intended.
I almost turned around & popped off back at her, but just did my thing & ignored the snide remark. Yes, she & her pack were walking in the parking lot. But they had not even reached the row of cars as I swung into the row & hit my mark. Like I said: no squealing tires or stunt driving on my behalf in the lot, let alone a near car-human impact w/a member of her party, or anyone else for that matter.
As I heard her comment, I had the urge to turn around & advise her to shut the fuck up, and keep her suppositions on why I was in a hurry, commentary on my driving and what I was doing to her fat fucking self. But being tired as I was, I passed.
I had a similar experience a couple of months ago at a Target store near me. My mom is in town visiting, and we pick up a few things at Target. To paint the picture: this Target has two tiers of checkout registers. A register in the second tier, closest to the entry/exit doors, is open, so my mom & I pass a family checking out at a register in the first tier. The matron of this crew left their cart right in the middle of the checkout aisle, so as my mom passes the cart to reach our checkout register, she accidentally bumps an unwieldy item (mop or broom handle) sticking outta the cart, and the cart nudges the other woman.
Well, the other woman starts making smart comments about not having the courtesy to say "excuse me". And not just one comment, but she goes on. And on. Again, these comments were made to the others in her party, but clearly meant for us to overhear. In this instance, I didn't keep my mouth shut, and let the woman know that such contact wouldn't occur if she could keep her goddamn cart outta the middle of the aisle. The woman tries to shoot back at me about manners, and I let her know she was outta line, needs to watch her shit, and keep her mouth shut when she's not mindful of her space, and hindering others. Let me note that this was a fairly large woman, and it would've been comically correct for me to note that her skill of being mindful of large objects in small spaces, and proximity to others, should be well-practiced based on her girth, but I didn't go there.
Now that I think if of it, I've had a third incident in the past year or so like this. I stop by the grocery store to pick up a couple of things, and therefore am carrying one of handheld baskets, if anything. I'm making my way w/purpose through the aisles, i.e. walking faster than most other shoppers, passing people as I get my stuff. One mindless, unaware twit left her cart in the middle of an aisle, in everyone's way. She's scanning the pickles or olives, something in the condiment aisle, oblivious to those I just passed who are kinda eyeing her impatiently, wishing they could get around her cart (had she positioned it to one side of the aisle), and those behind her thinking the very same thing.
As I approach I nudge the nose of her cart to one side to facilitate my progress. Mind you, when I moved her cart slightly, it did not touch her, the display shelves, or any other shopper. And what do I hear? "Well excuse you." Being focused on getting my shit & getting the fuck outta Dodge, I said nothing & kept walking. In hindsight, I should said something to the effect "if you don't leave your fucking cart in the middle of the aisle I don't have to move it". Or, more civilly, "no, excuse YOU".
So, my advice is this: refrain from making the under-your-breath-but-meant-to-be-heard comments to yourself, especially when you're in the wrong, as all three of these people or groups were. First, you look like an ass for talking smack to someone else when you're clearly in the wrong. Second, the person/people you smart off to may not be as nice as I am. I only talked back to one person, but know I would have been (or was) justified to bring verbal smack-down on all three. What's more, in the era of fly-off-the-handle, split-second reactions of some people (see: road rage), someone may decide to physically bring the smack down & pop you in the fucking mouth, if not worse. The farthest I'll ever go is verbally confront someone, but many others lack this degree of self-control.
I was raised w/a high degree of civility, manners, and politeness. If I absent-mindedly leave my cart in the aisle while shopping at any store, and it subsequently blocks another shopper, I say "excuse me", and apologize. Not a flowery, exaggerated apology; short, but sincere none the less. I don't blame the other person for my mistake. When did that kinda common courtesy go out of style? Instead, we say "excuse you", and blame the other person, the one being hindered? What. The. Fuck.
In closing: please watch your carts (and your personal selves) when navigating public space. And if you block another person, apologize, then get on with your life. But keep your mouth shut. If you really feel the need to open your piehole, speak directly to someone, don't pull the chickenshit maneuvers as I've described above. If you're adult enough to make a comment about another manners or behavior (or lack thereof), be adult enough to speak directly with or to the person that you think has offended you, don't pull the under-your-breath discreet-yet-directly-obvious bullshit. Fair warning: if you try this tactic on me I'll call you on it, in a heartbeat, and might do the same even if witnessing it third party.
Saturday, June 20, 2009
Bear with me...
...as I try to figure out the layout, e.g. color of fonts, links, size of text, etc. on Blogger over the next few days. One of these days I will unfuck myself.
Off the bat I find myself with one outstanding question: why is it that the app itself is called "Blogger", but my URL is "blogspot". Which is it for fucks's sake?!
Friday, June 19, 2009
From the Top (Saturday, June 13, 2009)
DISCLAIMER: this blog is mine & mine alone. Thou shalt not blame family nor friends nor employer for what you may read here.
K, so this is another stream-of-consciousness blog post from yours truly. I have nothing in particular to rail on, just a mess of stuff bouncing around my head.
First off, it's really fuckin' annoying when I'm trying to listen to my MySpace playlist as background for blogging, and the goddam player pauses for no apparent reason. Yes, I know my POS PC is getting low on virtual memory, and that my bandwidth is as fast and consistent as George W. Bush's stream of coherent thought & speech, but for fuck's sake, c'mon! Fuck it, I'll listen to iTunes as I write...
Second, I've been watching the NBA Finals, and no matter how many people sing the paeans of Kobe Bryant, he ain't MJ. Yes, his performance in Game 1 was some Michael-esque, but allowing O-town to get so close in Game 2, and win Game 3 just wasn't something Jordan woulda done. I recognize that the Bulls didn't sweep Finals series, and that they lost games along the way, but not when they seemed so close. And rarely did they look so apathetic & unprepared as LAL did in Game 3. And let's remember it took LAL OT to win game 4. Let me also point out that Kobe & Michael were both mentored by Phil Jackson, so it's not the coaching, it's the players & performance. Kobe is one of the top five players in the NBA today, but a challenger to the Jordan Legacy or title of Greatest of All Time/Greatest to Ever Play the Game? Puh-leeze; get that shit outta here.
Third, I was on Facebook earlier tonight, and saw a person in my friends list cast a vote on the performance of Barack Obama, and they disapproved. They said (to paraphrase): a "change" for the worse, how can that be good? Well, the person who posted this is none too bright, and attempting to counter their stupidity is futile. But let me point out that the havoc wrought on our country has taken place over eight years. Do you realistically expect BHO to turn things around in 6 months?
I think I can safely say that the consumer confidence index is higher now than it has been in quite some time. I'm not gonna get into Presidential approval ratings, as I believe the number that disapprove of Obama is vastly higher than the number that approved of Dubya in his waning days. And that would be since what, 9/11? And let's be real, Bush & Shotgun Dick had a whole second term to shit all over the Constitution in their pursuance of info from detainees of the War on Terror. They also had ample time to fist the rights to privacy of Americans by interception & monitoring of communications among regular citizens. I'm not gonna even get into the economic clusterfuck they lubed up through the typical Republican path of deregulation.
Don't get me wrong; I don't think that either party is perfect. Yeah, I've voted Dem since the first election for which I was eligible, but neither party gives We the People all that we deserve. But take a look at the US economy & international standing at the end of the last eight-year Democratic reign, and the last eight-year Republican reign, and tell me: where were we as a country better off? If you look at the overwhelming majority of votes in the popular vote from last November, and the number of reds that voted blue, that should tell you a little something about the communal state of mind at the end of the last Bush's rule. My last political comment for the night is that after George H.W. Bush's four-year run, and Dubya's eight-year debacle, would we dare be so foolish as to vote for Jeb Bush down the line? God I hope not.
I was heartened to hear that President Obama declare June Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Pride Month. We're all Americans, and more importantly, human beings. We all want to love & be loved, have families, the opportunity be happy, succeed and prosper, and find peace. And this should not by one iota be affected by sexual orientation (race, religion, or any other factor). So, big props to Barack Obama for making his proclamation. We have many Anglo holidays, celebrate other religous or sectarian holidays, recognize other ethnos-related days or months, it's high time this happened too. If you strip away economic status, gender, marital status, wash away the color of skin, ignore the respective alter worshipped, or choice of partner, we're all the same. And it's wasy past-due that all are treated as such, from marital rights or civil unions to equality when it comes to health insurance and the ability to get it, the opportunity to adopt a child, etc. And if you're one of the narrow-minded few that has a problem w/this, you need to straight up unfuck yourself. Now.
Allrightythen, well that's my soapbox, and I'm stepping off it. Time to pour another drink, and find some trash TV to watch. Hopefully, at this time eight weeks in the future I won't be blogging & drinking, but swimming in my own pool & drinking.
Live right, and be happy. Peace out.
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