Thanks for the opportunity to write and to be read, see you around campus.
Jeremiah (chris)
Tuesday, May 1, 2007
With Eyes Widened #28
Suzie laid down her pack of smokes and looked up just in time to see the masked man walk in the door. Her first thought was to scream but as the cigarette fall from her mouth she second-guessed herself and just continued to watch his every move. It was thirty feet from the door to the bar and he wasted no time getting there. She could not hear the conversation between the assailant and the barkeep but it was a heated exchange. No one else in the bar had seemed to notice all the commotion, all their attention was fixed on the hockey game, you will have that this far into the Canadian north. This bar is almost on the other side of the Artic circle and on most days can not be seen from the road.
The bartender must have recognized the man because it had been at least one minute and he has not even started to walk towards the register yet. What could he be demanding? What was his intention? She dropped her eyes just long enough to fumble for the dropped smoke and to light it. Her eyes readjusted to the scene playing out before her through a thick cloud of smoke and flashing beer lights in the window. Out of nowhere a man came running across the bar and tackled the masked man. Suzie choked on a sip of Dwars as her eyes widened, she felt her heart stop and heard a gun shot crack out. The two men on the floor had not stood up yet. All of the patrons were looking around trying to find the cause of the sound but there was a half wall around the bar and no one except her and the bartender knew exactly what was going on. After what felt like an entirety a man stood up from behind the bar but she did not know which man it was. As soon as the man stood up the bar erupted into a round of applause and everyone went back to watching the game. Could she have dosed off and imaged the whole thing? Did some thing fall and wake her up, was that she heard and thought was a gun shot?
In the ash trey sat a half smoked cigarette with a half-inch of ash on the end of it. Next to that was her empty glass that she had been drinking Dwars out of all night. Did she really just down the last of it and witness all of this, or did she just dose off. If anything she knew that she needed another drink so she jumped the one cigarette of the other and went to the bar. Since there was only the one bartender she had to what behind seven or eight hockey fans that had beaten her to the bar. She looked visible shaken, her brow was all a glow, she could not keep her hands still, and the cigarette in her mouth was shaking. After the hockey fans got their drinks and left, it was just her, the bartender, and one of the two men. Her voice cracked as she said "another Dwars" just enough to make the barkeeper ask her "what mam", again she said "another Dwars Please" this stuck her as odd, that she had just said please to a man that might have a hand in a murder just minutes before. When the bartender came back with her drink she add "can I look at a phonebook for a moment" hoping that the man would have to step over the body as he went to the other end of the bar to get the phonebook from next to the wall hanging phone. She had never been in this bar before but the had noticed when she came in that the bar still had a corded rotary phone that was the same one where grandmother had had years before.
For the next hour she stayed next to the bar trying to notice if the bartender or the other man who was now sitting at the other end of the bar, would look down at the body in the floor, if there was even one there. She could not tell by the mens' mannerisms if her suspicions were true. By this time the Dwars was taking effect on her. She felt her head getting heavy, only if she was not in this wheelchair she could see over the bar and tell if there really was a man dead behind the bar.
The bartender must have recognized the man because it had been at least one minute and he has not even started to walk towards the register yet. What could he be demanding? What was his intention? She dropped her eyes just long enough to fumble for the dropped smoke and to light it. Her eyes readjusted to the scene playing out before her through a thick cloud of smoke and flashing beer lights in the window. Out of nowhere a man came running across the bar and tackled the masked man. Suzie choked on a sip of Dwars as her eyes widened, she felt her heart stop and heard a gun shot crack out. The two men on the floor had not stood up yet. All of the patrons were looking around trying to find the cause of the sound but there was a half wall around the bar and no one except her and the bartender knew exactly what was going on. After what felt like an entirety a man stood up from behind the bar but she did not know which man it was. As soon as the man stood up the bar erupted into a round of applause and everyone went back to watching the game. Could she have dosed off and imaged the whole thing? Did some thing fall and wake her up, was that she heard and thought was a gun shot?
In the ash trey sat a half smoked cigarette with a half-inch of ash on the end of it. Next to that was her empty glass that she had been drinking Dwars out of all night. Did she really just down the last of it and witness all of this, or did she just dose off. If anything she knew that she needed another drink so she jumped the one cigarette of the other and went to the bar. Since there was only the one bartender she had to what behind seven or eight hockey fans that had beaten her to the bar. She looked visible shaken, her brow was all a glow, she could not keep her hands still, and the cigarette in her mouth was shaking. After the hockey fans got their drinks and left, it was just her, the bartender, and one of the two men. Her voice cracked as she said "another Dwars" just enough to make the barkeeper ask her "what mam", again she said "another Dwars Please" this stuck her as odd, that she had just said please to a man that might have a hand in a murder just minutes before. When the bartender came back with her drink she add "can I look at a phonebook for a moment" hoping that the man would have to step over the body as he went to the other end of the bar to get the phonebook from next to the wall hanging phone. She had never been in this bar before but the had noticed when she came in that the bar still had a corded rotary phone that was the same one where grandmother had had years before.
For the next hour she stayed next to the bar trying to notice if the bartender or the other man who was now sitting at the other end of the bar, would look down at the body in the floor, if there was even one there. She could not tell by the mens' mannerisms if her suspicions were true. By this time the Dwars was taking effect on her. She felt her head getting heavy, only if she was not in this wheelchair she could see over the bar and tell if there really was a man dead behind the bar.
A Rhetorical Question #27
a rhetorical question
The last time anyone asked me the question "Where will you be in five years" I was living in Palm Beach Gardens Florida with my brother. The question was posed by my brother live-in girlfriend, which sounds funny because she is the Print Ad Executive for Cingular. She is in control, be it maybe a small part, over all the paper ads in newspapers and magazines for the country, so it sounds odd referring to her as a live-in girlfriend and not an executive. My brother worked his way from an installer (then their were car phones) in Evansville, to being over Henderson, Evansville, and Owensboro. Then Cingular gave him Louisville, Lexington, and Cincinnati after a few years there he moved to the National headquarters in Atlanta. He was just an office guy then and had no territory to cover, then I guess, in about 2002 they gave him all the stores in Florida. After a few more years he turned in his resignation because he was going to start a website that sells cell phones, satellite radios and electronics and that would have been a conflict of interest. In 2005, that would have been his second Christmas season, I went down to help manage his website. That initialed all the web chats, phone calls, taking credit card numbers, orders and keeping the web page up and current. The website is Skybox-usa.com, ask me and I will give you a coupon code.
When she asked me that question my brother told her that it was an inappropriate question and is usually is used as a rhetorical question and not a genuine question. Like a genie out of the bottle, I had no other choice then to answer her. After a moment I came up with the perfect response, one that was relevant to my situation (living in my brothers house at Christmas time) I said "In five years it would be nice if the two of you were staying in my spare bedroom at Christmas time".
As for this time, my response will be longer and less to the point. In five years I will still not have gotten my masters but what I most of all hope to have gotten, by then, is the woman of my dreams. Some lady that does not sing along to public radio or fall for all the trends and fads. What do I want out of a woman? Well I can say I do want a woman whom has room to grow as a woman and does not think she knows everything. I would also be nice to find a girl that is my age but has been in a coma since she was like twelve. Most woman my age have "lived" far to much for their own good (or my own good) and I would like to think that there are still a few that have "lived" relatively little. My problem is that I have known some really good women and I look for their qualities in other woman, but that always leaves me wanting more out of them then they have or have to offer. I cannot put up with much dumbness and cannot tolerate any lousiness.
As for ten years from now all I want is to be building my dream house. I see all these two and three hundred thousand dollar houses going up and what do they spent on their landscaping a hundred dollars, two hundred dollars. They plant one Bradford pear, one dogwood, and some reflectors at the end of the drive and call it done. This really erks me. As for the yard of my dreams it would be at least ten acres. My mother has almost thirteen and we keep it all mowed and there are gardens everywhere. She has got to have three thousand flowering plants and tree in eighty verities. I have grown so accustom this way of life, the country way of life.
Another thing with all the new houses I see being built is that there is never enough windows. They will have some in the front but then you look at the sides there are like one window one side and two on the other. I will pay for windows and if I cannot afford them I will have the blueprints tweaked to allow for the addition of extra windows in the future. One thing that I hate is how people build houses that are exact right angles to the road, even if it put their house directly in front of their neighbors’ house. Come on, kick your house a little sideways, I dare you. It would be way cool to build a house with a flat roof. That would give you so much more room to entertain or garden or just sit out on the roof and lounge. I like how Spanish houses, in Spain or Mexico, have a courtyard in the middle of a house and a large double door leading in to the courtyard. I find it cool how some houses are not one solid whole house. There are different wings, one wing that has the kitchen, a living room, and a dining room. Another wing would have a few bedrooms, a parlor, and some common space and then a separate master bedroom wing. It would be so cool to make as much noise as you want and not worry about can the kids hear or did the in-laws hear that. All I want out of life is a nice yard, a nicer house, the nicest lady on the face of the earth and a bathroom you could live in. I would sell my soul for a really nice bathroom
The last time anyone asked me the question "Where will you be in five years" I was living in Palm Beach Gardens Florida with my brother. The question was posed by my brother live-in girlfriend, which sounds funny because she is the Print Ad Executive for Cingular. She is in control, be it maybe a small part, over all the paper ads in newspapers and magazines for the country, so it sounds odd referring to her as a live-in girlfriend and not an executive. My brother worked his way from an installer (then their were car phones) in Evansville, to being over Henderson, Evansville, and Owensboro. Then Cingular gave him Louisville, Lexington, and Cincinnati after a few years there he moved to the National headquarters in Atlanta. He was just an office guy then and had no territory to cover, then I guess, in about 2002 they gave him all the stores in Florida. After a few more years he turned in his resignation because he was going to start a website that sells cell phones, satellite radios and electronics and that would have been a conflict of interest. In 2005, that would have been his second Christmas season, I went down to help manage his website. That initialed all the web chats, phone calls, taking credit card numbers, orders and keeping the web page up and current. The website is Skybox-usa.com, ask me and I will give you a coupon code.
When she asked me that question my brother told her that it was an inappropriate question and is usually is used as a rhetorical question and not a genuine question. Like a genie out of the bottle, I had no other choice then to answer her. After a moment I came up with the perfect response, one that was relevant to my situation (living in my brothers house at Christmas time) I said "In five years it would be nice if the two of you were staying in my spare bedroom at Christmas time".
As for this time, my response will be longer and less to the point. In five years I will still not have gotten my masters but what I most of all hope to have gotten, by then, is the woman of my dreams. Some lady that does not sing along to public radio or fall for all the trends and fads. What do I want out of a woman? Well I can say I do want a woman whom has room to grow as a woman and does not think she knows everything. I would also be nice to find a girl that is my age but has been in a coma since she was like twelve. Most woman my age have "lived" far to much for their own good (or my own good) and I would like to think that there are still a few that have "lived" relatively little. My problem is that I have known some really good women and I look for their qualities in other woman, but that always leaves me wanting more out of them then they have or have to offer. I cannot put up with much dumbness and cannot tolerate any lousiness.
As for ten years from now all I want is to be building my dream house. I see all these two and three hundred thousand dollar houses going up and what do they spent on their landscaping a hundred dollars, two hundred dollars. They plant one Bradford pear, one dogwood, and some reflectors at the end of the drive and call it done. This really erks me. As for the yard of my dreams it would be at least ten acres. My mother has almost thirteen and we keep it all mowed and there are gardens everywhere. She has got to have three thousand flowering plants and tree in eighty verities. I have grown so accustom this way of life, the country way of life.
Another thing with all the new houses I see being built is that there is never enough windows. They will have some in the front but then you look at the sides there are like one window one side and two on the other. I will pay for windows and if I cannot afford them I will have the blueprints tweaked to allow for the addition of extra windows in the future. One thing that I hate is how people build houses that are exact right angles to the road, even if it put their house directly in front of their neighbors’ house. Come on, kick your house a little sideways, I dare you. It would be way cool to build a house with a flat roof. That would give you so much more room to entertain or garden or just sit out on the roof and lounge. I like how Spanish houses, in Spain or Mexico, have a courtyard in the middle of a house and a large double door leading in to the courtyard. I find it cool how some houses are not one solid whole house. There are different wings, one wing that has the kitchen, a living room, and a dining room. Another wing would have a few bedrooms, a parlor, and some common space and then a separate master bedroom wing. It would be so cool to make as much noise as you want and not worry about can the kids hear or did the in-laws hear that. All I want out of life is a nice yard, a nicer house, the nicest lady on the face of the earth and a bathroom you could live in. I would sell my soul for a really nice bathroom
Post-Anit-Counter #25
I have been a skateboarder for a decade as long as I growing my hair, playing guitar, enjoying woman, and rocking out. I have never gotten very good as a skater but I enjoy what I can do, what I can land. There was a time when I would launch myself of an eight stair and put myself right there on the line between ho-ya and hospital. Any more I try to limit it to four or five stairs and gaps under six feet but I do still find time for a good thrash session from time to time.
Most people do not understand why some one my age, whom is not a professional, would still throw themselves off and down stuff. Well the simple answer is that you can not beat the feeling of satisfaction that come from catching a switch nollie pop shove-it off a four stair and rolling away. Some people find more fun in running up ten flights of stairs the to roll down one. I am not that kind of person. My shins have seen a thousand knots, a million bumps, and enough rocks and asphalt to pave a driveway. Just taking a good fall is so therapeutic why go to the chiropractor when you can just as easily fall down some stairs. Picture this, your are going along at a good clip then all the sudden you hit this tiny little pebble, one that you would never usually notice, it bites your wheel and in that moment you only have milliseconds to decide how best to take a fall. What if you are bombing a hill and out of nowhere there is a huge crack in the pavement, it is to late to ollie over it and now all you can do is tuck and roll. Skating really lets you know how fast your brain can comprehend a situation, give you all the variables, and then pick your way out all of this in a split second.
It would be nice if the University of Southern Indiana campus was not smaller then my mothers yard. Then I could take SK8board to school just to get around school in a timely fashion and not shearly for fashion. I have seen huge campuses where people have to either schedule time to get from one class to another or the have to ride a bike or ankles be ware a skateboard. I hate seeing all these kids in globe shirts, Birdhouse hats, Element sweatshirts, and/or Etenies shoes. To me all these people are sheep and they are the sole reason why I do not advertise that I am a skater by the brands of shirt I wear. I am kind of jealous I guess because all of these want a be gangsta, rocker, any thing on television, new wave, new country kids can wear anything they want. The can get away with a AC/DC shirt, Phat Farm, South Pole, Jenco, Hillfiger, Old Navy, Nike, Puma, Addias, AE, PSW, Tapout, Throw Craz, Zoo York, DC, and any other brand they can lay their company stealing hands on. It is getting to the point where you cannot tell anything about someone by what they are wearing. What does that leave me with Perry Ellis and Armani, fine then I take it and bow out gracefully, if I have to, I guess.
I am the most punk rock person in any room and most of the time you cannot ever tell, and that is the way I like it. Why should I let you be able to look from across the room and tell who I am or what I am into. If you want to quiz me on splatter core or spackling just come up to me and ask me, bring it on. I have never owned a black leather jacket or a pair of Dr. Martins but I can call out more underground metal or obscure punk rock then Dez Chapman himself. I learned a long time ago that it is not what is on your shirt, it is what is under your shirt. My one pet peeves is that people might look at me and see "hippie" there is not enough pot smoke in the world to make me agree with some of these no-wing, flip-flop wearing, go green, euro-vegan, postanticounter want-to-be revolutionarieists sheep.
No dinks, preps, hicks, gangstas, mods, goths, beboppers, hiphoppers, b-girls, b-boys, folkies, or any one else was harmed during the writing of this paper.
Most people do not understand why some one my age, whom is not a professional, would still throw themselves off and down stuff. Well the simple answer is that you can not beat the feeling of satisfaction that come from catching a switch nollie pop shove-it off a four stair and rolling away. Some people find more fun in running up ten flights of stairs the to roll down one. I am not that kind of person. My shins have seen a thousand knots, a million bumps, and enough rocks and asphalt to pave a driveway. Just taking a good fall is so therapeutic why go to the chiropractor when you can just as easily fall down some stairs. Picture this, your are going along at a good clip then all the sudden you hit this tiny little pebble, one that you would never usually notice, it bites your wheel and in that moment you only have milliseconds to decide how best to take a fall. What if you are bombing a hill and out of nowhere there is a huge crack in the pavement, it is to late to ollie over it and now all you can do is tuck and roll. Skating really lets you know how fast your brain can comprehend a situation, give you all the variables, and then pick your way out all of this in a split second.
It would be nice if the University of Southern Indiana campus was not smaller then my mothers yard. Then I could take SK8board to school just to get around school in a timely fashion and not shearly for fashion. I have seen huge campuses where people have to either schedule time to get from one class to another or the have to ride a bike or ankles be ware a skateboard. I hate seeing all these kids in globe shirts, Birdhouse hats, Element sweatshirts, and/or Etenies shoes. To me all these people are sheep and they are the sole reason why I do not advertise that I am a skater by the brands of shirt I wear. I am kind of jealous I guess because all of these want a be gangsta, rocker, any thing on television, new wave, new country kids can wear anything they want. The can get away with a AC/DC shirt, Phat Farm, South Pole, Jenco, Hillfiger, Old Navy, Nike, Puma, Addias, AE, PSW, Tapout, Throw Craz, Zoo York, DC, and any other brand they can lay their company stealing hands on. It is getting to the point where you cannot tell anything about someone by what they are wearing. What does that leave me with Perry Ellis and Armani, fine then I take it and bow out gracefully, if I have to, I guess.
I am the most punk rock person in any room and most of the time you cannot ever tell, and that is the way I like it. Why should I let you be able to look from across the room and tell who I am or what I am into. If you want to quiz me on splatter core or spackling just come up to me and ask me, bring it on. I have never owned a black leather jacket or a pair of Dr. Martins but I can call out more underground metal or obscure punk rock then Dez Chapman himself. I learned a long time ago that it is not what is on your shirt, it is what is under your shirt. My one pet peeves is that people might look at me and see "hippie" there is not enough pot smoke in the world to make me agree with some of these no-wing, flip-flop wearing, go green, euro-vegan, postanticounter want-to-be revolutionarieists sheep.
No dinks, preps, hicks, gangstas, mods, goths, beboppers, hiphoppers, b-girls, b-boys, folkies, or any one else was harmed during the writing of this paper.
The Big Eviction Notice #21
As the sun begins to break over the horizon the Daybat start to appear, their screech louder than the rooster, their appetite ferocious than a wolf and with their highly territorial nature comes dead Daybats lining the sidewalks and alleyways. With the sunrise comes the garbage-bots scouring around picking up bit of recyclables, bits of trash, and the bats. The curfew has been in effect for months now and watching the solar flares out the window I wonder how much longer it will be imposed. The mail truck is running late but it does not matter my magnetic strip has not been working properly and I will have to wait until after 10:00 before it is safe to go outside to get the mail which will probably be all celluloid junk mail.
On the news George w. Bush IIII has still not recovered from his Xansanphentol infection and there is controversy over if a sitting President can run the office from quarantine and if so how long. Also the World Army evacuated Hawaii for the third time this year, every time there is a new eruption a bidding war opens up on the Global Market Television Channel for the new land. Last time it went up over a million dollars an acre for non-water front land. On the bright side it has been three weeks and the World Murder Rate is still at zero. I sometimes wonder how bad it really was in the days of the outlaws, the numbers paint a bloody picture of the past, but then with only six billion people on earth it would be like 0.0007% chance of being murdered.
Needless to say, I am still taking public transportation to and from college and everywhere else for that matter. It was strange the first few years after they made it unconstitutional to charge citizens of the New Earth for education and that has left me having to work more since there are no more financial aid checks. With the privatization of colleges in 2102 everything has been thrown out of wack. They disbanded community colleges and started the one in a hundred rule that says every class has to have at least one hundred students in it. Some classes end up having a hundred and seventy or eighty students in them. Homework has also changed recently when the Scan-Tron Company invented the first electronic desk to help alive the professors having over a hundred students in them and all the paperwork. Also they have done away with all the staff except for security, which they felt needed to be from outside and the deans of students everything else is manned by students, from the gardeners to the kitchen help it all students.
I wonder how it was before the walls fell, before the global community, before the New Earth was united? What will it be like in the days of our grand-grand-grandchildren? What will become of us? Can they really jumpstart the atmosphere on Mars by 2220? Will our faltering sun start to correct itself? With time all these questions will be answered, all the truths will come to light, and we might even start to colonize our solar system. Man has overcome everything put in his way even himself and if I know anything it is this, that, man is here to stay and until we get the big eviction notice from above, we are here and we are not going anywhere.
On the news George w. Bush IIII has still not recovered from his Xansanphentol infection and there is controversy over if a sitting President can run the office from quarantine and if so how long. Also the World Army evacuated Hawaii for the third time this year, every time there is a new eruption a bidding war opens up on the Global Market Television Channel for the new land. Last time it went up over a million dollars an acre for non-water front land. On the bright side it has been three weeks and the World Murder Rate is still at zero. I sometimes wonder how bad it really was in the days of the outlaws, the numbers paint a bloody picture of the past, but then with only six billion people on earth it would be like 0.0007% chance of being murdered.
Needless to say, I am still taking public transportation to and from college and everywhere else for that matter. It was strange the first few years after they made it unconstitutional to charge citizens of the New Earth for education and that has left me having to work more since there are no more financial aid checks. With the privatization of colleges in 2102 everything has been thrown out of wack. They disbanded community colleges and started the one in a hundred rule that says every class has to have at least one hundred students in it. Some classes end up having a hundred and seventy or eighty students in them. Homework has also changed recently when the Scan-Tron Company invented the first electronic desk to help alive the professors having over a hundred students in them and all the paperwork. Also they have done away with all the staff except for security, which they felt needed to be from outside and the deans of students everything else is manned by students, from the gardeners to the kitchen help it all students.
I wonder how it was before the walls fell, before the global community, before the New Earth was united? What will it be like in the days of our grand-grand-grandchildren? What will become of us? Can they really jumpstart the atmosphere on Mars by 2220? Will our faltering sun start to correct itself? With time all these questions will be answered, all the truths will come to light, and we might even start to colonize our solar system. Man has overcome everything put in his way even himself and if I know anything it is this, that, man is here to stay and until we get the big eviction notice from above, we are here and we are not going anywhere.
A Puff of #16
This assignments asks me to reflect on my semester so far and then to look forward, well since this is one of the papers that I missed the first time through, I will have to answer everything in a past-tense form. What is left for me to due you ask, well to that I say, "just exit exams and finals". My game plan for the remaining weeks is to just survive. I have been hanging on for so long that I fell like a free climber that has been left stranded on El Capatain. I have ran out of chalk, my hands hurt, there is a eagle harassing me, and it is the off season. I am here to wilt away, I am here to stay.
When reflecting upon my first semester, I cannot seem to get away from the realization that, for the most part, I have spent it by myself. My roommate is a waitress that usually closes, so that leaves me home all day alone, just me and my cat, until midnight or so. If it was not for Charlie Murphy (my cat) I do not know how I would have spent all this unwanted free time that has been forced upon me. I had this weird notion come across me one day, not to long ago, while I was watching a prison show on the MSNBC channel. It was this, that on most days a death row inmate has more interaction with people then I do. This sounds worse out loud then it did when I first decided to type it down. I feel that if I did not have all this free time, I would have been more apt to study more. With no one coming over I would say to myself that " there’s more time, I have all night" well that was just words. For me, it is so hard to get good study sessions in, when I have nothing to look forward to later.
I do not think that I ever got a chance to recharge my batteries this semester. But I know, that next semester I will be more able to cope with everything and that I will do much better. If I had a girl that would strip for me when I answered questions right or would "hold out" unless I showed her that I have done my homework I feel that I would have a 3.99. I need a woman to blackmail me into doing more. Now that I know all the trapping I know that I can tiptoe my way through and past many of the obstacles that I found squarely in my way this last go-around. Sometime I ask myself "can you make it another four or five years before I enter into a career". To this I say a resounding "Yes". A lot of my friends and people that I went to high school with have found normalcy through factory job and bar girls. I really fell that that is not for me. The only person that can say what I am going to do is me and I know that I still have a lot of fight let in me.
The only challenge that I have had besides deadlines is my math class and that ended up to be a losing battle, this time. The next time that I meet Mr. Math in a dark alley I am going to know where to strike, how to strike, and with what to strike with. It is said that a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, well when I took my first step in math class it was already week four and that is when I found that my shoelaces were tied together. My math class was just review for the first few week and I was raising my hand and being involved, but slowly I started to know less and less of what was going on until I was completely lost. I should have not snickered my way through the first month. I just started to admit that I am going to fail my math class a couple of week ago, even though I have known it in way longer then that.
A grand flourish you say, more like a whimper and a puff of smoke. In every box of firecracker you will find a few duds. That does not mean that they did not have to potential to be as crowd pleasing as all the rest, it is just that there needs to be a little diversity in everything and if that means having to let out a sigh everyone and a while instead of a hooray, gentlemen I implore you to sigh right along with me.
When reflecting upon my first semester, I cannot seem to get away from the realization that, for the most part, I have spent it by myself. My roommate is a waitress that usually closes, so that leaves me home all day alone, just me and my cat, until midnight or so. If it was not for Charlie Murphy (my cat) I do not know how I would have spent all this unwanted free time that has been forced upon me. I had this weird notion come across me one day, not to long ago, while I was watching a prison show on the MSNBC channel. It was this, that on most days a death row inmate has more interaction with people then I do. This sounds worse out loud then it did when I first decided to type it down. I feel that if I did not have all this free time, I would have been more apt to study more. With no one coming over I would say to myself that " there’s more time, I have all night" well that was just words. For me, it is so hard to get good study sessions in, when I have nothing to look forward to later.
I do not think that I ever got a chance to recharge my batteries this semester. But I know, that next semester I will be more able to cope with everything and that I will do much better. If I had a girl that would strip for me when I answered questions right or would "hold out" unless I showed her that I have done my homework I feel that I would have a 3.99. I need a woman to blackmail me into doing more. Now that I know all the trapping I know that I can tiptoe my way through and past many of the obstacles that I found squarely in my way this last go-around. Sometime I ask myself "can you make it another four or five years before I enter into a career". To this I say a resounding "Yes". A lot of my friends and people that I went to high school with have found normalcy through factory job and bar girls. I really fell that that is not for me. The only person that can say what I am going to do is me and I know that I still have a lot of fight let in me.
The only challenge that I have had besides deadlines is my math class and that ended up to be a losing battle, this time. The next time that I meet Mr. Math in a dark alley I am going to know where to strike, how to strike, and with what to strike with. It is said that a journey of a thousand miles starts with a single step, well when I took my first step in math class it was already week four and that is when I found that my shoelaces were tied together. My math class was just review for the first few week and I was raising my hand and being involved, but slowly I started to know less and less of what was going on until I was completely lost. I should have not snickered my way through the first month. I just started to admit that I am going to fail my math class a couple of week ago, even though I have known it in way longer then that.
A grand flourish you say, more like a whimper and a puff of smoke. In every box of firecracker you will find a few duds. That does not mean that they did not have to potential to be as crowd pleasing as all the rest, it is just that there needs to be a little diversity in everything and if that means having to let out a sigh everyone and a while instead of a hooray, gentlemen I implore you to sigh right along with me.
Buffalo Trace #12
Buffalo trace
Charlie was a slender man in his early thirties, gray had begun to creep around his head years ago and now it is filling in the last streaks of brown running past his right ear. His face is still young with just the expected laugh-lines not showing age but revealing years of grinning widely. He has a smile reminiscent of early Chaplin, lips pressed tight with one corner of his smile higher than the other. As a child with a club foot growing up in a working class Boro on the south side on Manchester, his time was spent playing on the street and in the alleys that crisscross the old Irish neighborhood. It was a rough place with all the vices and traps that fall steadily on the shoulders of anyone who is willing or unfortunate enough to find themselves in the embraces of lawlessness.
After dark the gas lamps come on and illuminated the night with an eerie flickering effect as the smell of burning natural gas fills the night air. The towering building seem to curve outward as they reach into sky and it feels as if they bend anymore it would rip them apart, showering the ground below with the contents of a hundred Irish family belongings soda-bread and Scotch, rosined bows and wingtips would rain from above. He has grown into a man with a love for family, a love for community, and a desire to mentor all the kids in his neighborhood. There is nothing that keeps him here, he has no family left and real friends. After the mill closed, he lost all hope in living out his days in Manchester. The shops that use to line the historic downtown have all but closed down and with the mega-stores there seems to be no mom and pop stores left. This has disturbed him a lot and he longs for the good old days when everyone knows everyone and the street were lined with smiling faces.
Charlie put his house up for sale last fall and there was only a hand full of buyers that ever came buy. The only hope for a home seller that he had left was to auction. More people showed up just to watch then to buy, you could tell that because hardly anyone had paddles. After what seemed like two minutes of bidding, the gavel cracked and it was sold. The man that bought it, Charlie knew to be a slumlord and knew that in five years his house would be in a state of disrepair that the house would never come back from. With just a carload of his belongs and two boxes of pictures, there was really nothing keeping him here now. With only a half nights rest at the nicest motel in town he was off with out even a wave goodbye, not even the lady at the bank said bye to him when he cashed out the bank account that he has had for fifty years.
The road has now opened up and the buffalo fights for the pole position as we all go streaking down hill. This stretch of road is bland and bare with only the occasional roadside distraction. In the rear-view mirror Manchester looks more like a plane crash high up on the peak of mount Tarsar. The orange glow of industry and the endless trains pouring for the center of town looks like some kind of mystical beast. Now I can start making decent time. At this time of night, all there is left on the highway is greasy stressed out drivers, strung out truckers and the movers and shakers hitting their own tune on the asphalt stings. The audible zoom and the cars body roll is all I need to tell me that I'm passing these cars at a rate exceeding thirty miles an hour. The buffalo sputters as I lay off the accelerator just in time to pass the last exit. It is going to be a long night from Manchester to Harvic is less then six hour, it will not be a record but for the buffalo and me it will be a commendable attempt.
Charlie was a slender man in his early thirties, gray had begun to creep around his head years ago and now it is filling in the last streaks of brown running past his right ear. His face is still young with just the expected laugh-lines not showing age but revealing years of grinning widely. He has a smile reminiscent of early Chaplin, lips pressed tight with one corner of his smile higher than the other. As a child with a club foot growing up in a working class Boro on the south side on Manchester, his time was spent playing on the street and in the alleys that crisscross the old Irish neighborhood. It was a rough place with all the vices and traps that fall steadily on the shoulders of anyone who is willing or unfortunate enough to find themselves in the embraces of lawlessness.
After dark the gas lamps come on and illuminated the night with an eerie flickering effect as the smell of burning natural gas fills the night air. The towering building seem to curve outward as they reach into sky and it feels as if they bend anymore it would rip them apart, showering the ground below with the contents of a hundred Irish family belongings soda-bread and Scotch, rosined bows and wingtips would rain from above. He has grown into a man with a love for family, a love for community, and a desire to mentor all the kids in his neighborhood. There is nothing that keeps him here, he has no family left and real friends. After the mill closed, he lost all hope in living out his days in Manchester. The shops that use to line the historic downtown have all but closed down and with the mega-stores there seems to be no mom and pop stores left. This has disturbed him a lot and he longs for the good old days when everyone knows everyone and the street were lined with smiling faces.
Charlie put his house up for sale last fall and there was only a hand full of buyers that ever came buy. The only hope for a home seller that he had left was to auction. More people showed up just to watch then to buy, you could tell that because hardly anyone had paddles. After what seemed like two minutes of bidding, the gavel cracked and it was sold. The man that bought it, Charlie knew to be a slumlord and knew that in five years his house would be in a state of disrepair that the house would never come back from. With just a carload of his belongs and two boxes of pictures, there was really nothing keeping him here now. With only a half nights rest at the nicest motel in town he was off with out even a wave goodbye, not even the lady at the bank said bye to him when he cashed out the bank account that he has had for fifty years.
The road has now opened up and the buffalo fights for the pole position as we all go streaking down hill. This stretch of road is bland and bare with only the occasional roadside distraction. In the rear-view mirror Manchester looks more like a plane crash high up on the peak of mount Tarsar. The orange glow of industry and the endless trains pouring for the center of town looks like some kind of mystical beast. Now I can start making decent time. At this time of night, all there is left on the highway is greasy stressed out drivers, strung out truckers and the movers and shakers hitting their own tune on the asphalt stings. The audible zoom and the cars body roll is all I need to tell me that I'm passing these cars at a rate exceeding thirty miles an hour. The buffalo sputters as I lay off the accelerator just in time to pass the last exit. It is going to be a long night from Manchester to Harvic is less then six hour, it will not be a record but for the buffalo and me it will be a commendable attempt.
Two Tickets to Ride #7
Two tickets to ride
I ride the Mets (Metropolitan Evansville Transit System) to and from school every day. In one sentence it does not sound that bad but as I am going to go into this it is going to start to seem more and more unappealing. It is not that it is that bad it is just more of a nuisance that anything. I prey for the day to come when I can stop standing on the street coroner like the captain Morgan guy, well more like the Quaker Oats guy, silently staring down the block hoping that I have not missed the bus yet.
On Monday I have my Mesoamerican Art History class at eleven and my Math class at noon and then I am done for the day but it takes me six and a half hours to go to school for less then two hours. My day starts at eight when my alarm clock goes off. I get up yawning, stretching, and searching for the correct profanity then I go into the kitchen and fill my espresso pot. I have grown accustom my coffee pot it is stainless steel, does not use filters, and makes a cup of mean, but it only makes two cups. Most mornings I have two pots. While I am waiting, I tune the television to CNN and let my cat out.
After I cook breakfast for myself and do some more decompressing I leave my house for an eight-block walk to the downtown Mets terminal. There I wait another few minutes and smoke. The buses leave at fifteen till and fifteen after, I have been almost ran-over by a bus that I was only thirty seconds for. It takes two transfers and over an hour to get to school and by then I have been awake for three hours.
On the bus you run into all kinds of people all with their own story to tell. There are smelly ones, hairy ones, ones that are more smelly then hairy. The worst kinds of bus people are the talkers, not just the regular type, but the ones that bring shitty conversation with them. There is nothing worse than having to listen to someone babble on about how they can't this and don't that and just go on about nothing for a half hour. Some of them talk to the drivers incessantly and they do it every day so you can spot them out before they even get on the bus and of course their are the people that when you talk to them they do not ever drop the conversation, the non-droppers, drop it already.
Sometimes I end up getting pissed off of the bus. Most of the time it is just because it's too much wasted time. There has been a few time that some middle-aged person and there elderly parent/parents have gotten on the bus and for the whole ride they yell at their them, argue and demean them. One time this lady kept saying that he father had Alzheimer's only because they were fighting about money. You could see it in the old mans eyes that he was fine and tell it pissed him off, although it seemed like he had heard it all before. He ended up clamming up but to me it seemed that he had became embarrassed over the public incident rather then knowing he was wrong or suffering from some Alzheimer's attack.
I ride the Mets (Metropolitan Evansville Transit System) to and from school every day. In one sentence it does not sound that bad but as I am going to go into this it is going to start to seem more and more unappealing. It is not that it is that bad it is just more of a nuisance that anything. I prey for the day to come when I can stop standing on the street coroner like the captain Morgan guy, well more like the Quaker Oats guy, silently staring down the block hoping that I have not missed the bus yet.
On Monday I have my Mesoamerican Art History class at eleven and my Math class at noon and then I am done for the day but it takes me six and a half hours to go to school for less then two hours. My day starts at eight when my alarm clock goes off. I get up yawning, stretching, and searching for the correct profanity then I go into the kitchen and fill my espresso pot. I have grown accustom my coffee pot it is stainless steel, does not use filters, and makes a cup of mean, but it only makes two cups. Most mornings I have two pots. While I am waiting, I tune the television to CNN and let my cat out.
After I cook breakfast for myself and do some more decompressing I leave my house for an eight-block walk to the downtown Mets terminal. There I wait another few minutes and smoke. The buses leave at fifteen till and fifteen after, I have been almost ran-over by a bus that I was only thirty seconds for. It takes two transfers and over an hour to get to school and by then I have been awake for three hours.
On the bus you run into all kinds of people all with their own story to tell. There are smelly ones, hairy ones, ones that are more smelly then hairy. The worst kinds of bus people are the talkers, not just the regular type, but the ones that bring shitty conversation with them. There is nothing worse than having to listen to someone babble on about how they can't this and don't that and just go on about nothing for a half hour. Some of them talk to the drivers incessantly and they do it every day so you can spot them out before they even get on the bus and of course their are the people that when you talk to them they do not ever drop the conversation, the non-droppers, drop it already.
Sometimes I end up getting pissed off of the bus. Most of the time it is just because it's too much wasted time. There has been a few time that some middle-aged person and there elderly parent/parents have gotten on the bus and for the whole ride they yell at their them, argue and demean them. One time this lady kept saying that he father had Alzheimer's only because they were fighting about money. You could see it in the old mans eyes that he was fine and tell it pissed him off, although it seemed like he had heard it all before. He ended up clamming up but to me it seemed that he had became embarrassed over the public incident rather then knowing he was wrong or suffering from some Alzheimer's attack.
Without Cometition #4
Without competition
In my life I am driven to excel in many different areas. I like to think of myself as a renaissance person even if I feel that that phrase is played out. The reason why I say I am of the medieval old school is because I adhere to those qualities. I play the guitar, bass guitar, piano, drums, violin, and I will sing if there is no one else around, I draw, paint, watercolor, carve, make things and more. That is not all that qualifies me as a renaissance person I read and write, cook, garden, grow vegetable, tend to the yard and house, search for truth, and I am so open minded that it makes me second guess myself on almost any topic.
The easiest way to excel at something is to know someone who is better at it then you, that is were the drive to become better comes from. I have a buddy Casey that is a killer Blues guitarist; he is now playing for the number one Stevie Ray Vaughn cover band in the nation. The band is Voodoo Blue and they are out of Dallas, they can be found at Voodooblue.net. Having a friend around that plays the blues made me want to write some blues songs just to prove to myself that I could, just to show him up, just to show him that I could. I even took one of his songs and kept the progression and chords but changed it around to make, what I felt like, was a better sounding song, a better flowing song. The cool thing was that he liked what I had done to his song and incorporated some of my ideas in to his song.
Without competition and the human desire to out due each other the world would be a far different place. As people we love to say that we are good at something, that we are better at something then someone else. Most of the time this is just fair competition but some people take it to far, some people are consumed with outdoing people and I think that the can become a unhealthy. I do not feel that I have mastered anything, there is not any one thing that I can say I am best at but just because your not great at something does not mean you can not be good at all kinds of things.
I do find myself for time to time wishing I could find a new hobby to delve into, a new challenge to apply myself to. It just seems so hard to figure out what I would be good at I guess that is also why I have yet to pick my major. I mean, I know what I like and what I like to do, but how do I apply it to a career, how do I apply that to the rest of my life.
In my life I am driven to excel in many different areas. I like to think of myself as a renaissance person even if I feel that that phrase is played out. The reason why I say I am of the medieval old school is because I adhere to those qualities. I play the guitar, bass guitar, piano, drums, violin, and I will sing if there is no one else around, I draw, paint, watercolor, carve, make things and more. That is not all that qualifies me as a renaissance person I read and write, cook, garden, grow vegetable, tend to the yard and house, search for truth, and I am so open minded that it makes me second guess myself on almost any topic.
The easiest way to excel at something is to know someone who is better at it then you, that is were the drive to become better comes from. I have a buddy Casey that is a killer Blues guitarist; he is now playing for the number one Stevie Ray Vaughn cover band in the nation. The band is Voodoo Blue and they are out of Dallas, they can be found at Voodooblue.net. Having a friend around that plays the blues made me want to write some blues songs just to prove to myself that I could, just to show him up, just to show him that I could. I even took one of his songs and kept the progression and chords but changed it around to make, what I felt like, was a better sounding song, a better flowing song. The cool thing was that he liked what I had done to his song and incorporated some of my ideas in to his song.
Without competition and the human desire to out due each other the world would be a far different place. As people we love to say that we are good at something, that we are better at something then someone else. Most of the time this is just fair competition but some people take it to far, some people are consumed with outdoing people and I think that the can become a unhealthy. I do not feel that I have mastered anything, there is not any one thing that I can say I am best at but just because your not great at something does not mean you can not be good at all kinds of things.
I do find myself for time to time wishing I could find a new hobby to delve into, a new challenge to apply myself to. It just seems so hard to figure out what I would be good at I guess that is also why I have yet to pick my major. I mean, I know what I like and what I like to do, but how do I apply it to a career, how do I apply that to the rest of my life.
Constructing #2
My mother is a thirty-year veteran of the construction business. She was worked all over America and she is now in Macon Georgia where she has been for a month. My mother was born in October of 1948 so she is now 58 and in excellent health. If you were to ask my mother what she does for a living she would proudly tell you that she is a pipe welder. She has built all kinds of thing from a boiler for the new Nashville courthouse, to a chiller unit for a super computer that circulate liquid nitrogen.
Being a woman pipe welder in the seventies was not an easy task. She had to endure all kinds of harassment and discrimination. I believe my mother has heard it all, she sometime tells me jokes that I would have never said to her. Sometimes my mother will go out of town to work and end up working for some asshole and end up dragging up, this has not happened for a while since she has worked for the same company for the last seven or so years. Here is an interesting story; in the seventy she sometimes found it hard to get a job being a woman and all. So she would have my father (whom was a pipe welder as well) call and talk to the man in charge of hiring people and tell him that he had a "jam up welder traveling with him" and then he would refer to my mother as L.K. Myers so the man on the phone would not get wise to the fact that he had just hired a woman. I remember a couple times packing everything up and moving to a different town just to have some sexist jackass say that he was not going to hire my mother and then having to repack everything and drive back home. The silver liner is that the company would still have to pay travel time to both of them and that all those good-old-boys probably ended up getting theirs.
I sometimes-meet people that say they were army brats when they were kids a moved from base to base with their family. I know exactly where they are coming from, growing up I lived in so many cities and states that I still do not know everyone of them. Sometimes my mother will say, "Do you remember living here or do you remember living in this kind of house or that kind of place" and to that I will say " did I ah... I do not know...no I guess not". I went from kindergarten to the ninth with out ever finishing one whole grade in the same school except once. My parents built a paper mill in Perry Florida and we were there for almost two years so that is the exclusion. I kind of lucked out in high school; my parents built the Tyson Chicken factory in Henderson and that took three years so we (my brother and I) got to finish out high school in the same city.
Being a woman pipe welder in the seventies was not an easy task. She had to endure all kinds of harassment and discrimination. I believe my mother has heard it all, she sometime tells me jokes that I would have never said to her. Sometimes my mother will go out of town to work and end up working for some asshole and end up dragging up, this has not happened for a while since she has worked for the same company for the last seven or so years. Here is an interesting story; in the seventy she sometimes found it hard to get a job being a woman and all. So she would have my father (whom was a pipe welder as well) call and talk to the man in charge of hiring people and tell him that he had a "jam up welder traveling with him" and then he would refer to my mother as L.K. Myers so the man on the phone would not get wise to the fact that he had just hired a woman. I remember a couple times packing everything up and moving to a different town just to have some sexist jackass say that he was not going to hire my mother and then having to repack everything and drive back home. The silver liner is that the company would still have to pay travel time to both of them and that all those good-old-boys probably ended up getting theirs.
I sometimes-meet people that say they were army brats when they were kids a moved from base to base with their family. I know exactly where they are coming from, growing up I lived in so many cities and states that I still do not know everyone of them. Sometimes my mother will say, "Do you remember living here or do you remember living in this kind of house or that kind of place" and to that I will say " did I ah... I do not know...no I guess not". I went from kindergarten to the ninth with out ever finishing one whole grade in the same school except once. My parents built a paper mill in Perry Florida and we were there for almost two years so that is the exclusion. I kind of lucked out in high school; my parents built the Tyson Chicken factory in Henderson and that took three years so we (my brother and I) got to finish out high school in the same city.
Thursday, April 19, 2007
Fin #30
My writing style, I would like to think, is unique and does show that I am an individual with a love for the English language and a passion for open and sometime frank discussions. My method for writing is controlled madness, with one eye on the clock and the other on the keyboard, I peck away with all the ferocity of a day before Thanksgiving turkey. For me, it would be hard to summarize my body of work that I have accomplished over this semester. All I can say is that, it does reflect me as a person and me as a writer. I am looking forward to my next English class. I think, that I am going to take a creative writing class, even though I do not know how creative the assignments are going to be. I just hope that I can become a better proofreader and a better splicer.The only time that I do any real brainstorming is on the weekend. That is when we get to do the “you pick” assignments. I usually spend all weekend trying to come up with a good solid idea for what my topic is going to be. That includes, but is not limited to talking over my ideas with my roommate and friends, even if their topics are a little out of the way and far removed from what I would think my style is. I do like to have an audience to talk with, it helps me gather my ideas and begin to work.Now that I am in my mid-twenties, I wish that I had taken my seventh grade typing class a little more to heart. I am in envy of people that when they type it sounds like a machine gun but when I type it sounds like some kids throwing rocks at a tank. I do feel that with my slower typing speed it does allow me to get better thoughts on paper, even if that paper has started to turn yellow with age by the time I finish.
Sometimes I do not know how well receipted my work is going to be? Can anyone over look my style to see my true intent? What do my reader think of me? Should I consider a career in writing? I do love to write and love to watch people read my writings. Who can tell me if I am good enough and if they do would they just be blowing smoke? Am I on par, under par, over par, or should I just ask for a mulligan. Could you answer this for me and email me a response, an honest response?I do feel that this is a good starting point for the whole college paper writing thing, I just do not know how my first ten page paper is going to go down. I do not know if I am going to sail right through it or if it is going to drive me under the keyboard. For me 750 words is not a problem, it is more like a walk in the park, granted that when I walk in the class or open the blogger page I do not know what park I am going to set foot in. I have more of a problem trying to downsize ideas into a nice neat little 750-word document then doing them.I do not know if you can look over the other student blog accounts or how to find them but I would like to see what kinds of writers I am up against, even if I can not match a name to a face. I do not think I know one persons name in this class. I have seen where you can block your blog from being seen by others on the web. I have blocked mine from showing up but it is only on the count that I have not picked any to become made public. After I finish my final portfolio and everything is crossed and doted I am going to put up all of them but except like five or six, the ones that you can really tell are assignments. Some of my family has asked, “Where is your English class blogger site?” and to that I say “ In due time I will let you witness the spectacle that I have made of my English class". In no way do I use the word spectacle to refer to my work as some sideshow attraction nor should the word spectacle take away from my true intent.
Sometimes I do not know how well receipted my work is going to be? Can anyone over look my style to see my true intent? What do my reader think of me? Should I consider a career in writing? I do love to write and love to watch people read my writings. Who can tell me if I am good enough and if they do would they just be blowing smoke? Am I on par, under par, over par, or should I just ask for a mulligan. Could you answer this for me and email me a response, an honest response?I do feel that this is a good starting point for the whole college paper writing thing, I just do not know how my first ten page paper is going to go down. I do not know if I am going to sail right through it or if it is going to drive me under the keyboard. For me 750 words is not a problem, it is more like a walk in the park, granted that when I walk in the class or open the blogger page I do not know what park I am going to set foot in. I have more of a problem trying to downsize ideas into a nice neat little 750-word document then doing them.I do not know if you can look over the other student blog accounts or how to find them but I would like to see what kinds of writers I am up against, even if I can not match a name to a face. I do not think I know one persons name in this class. I have seen where you can block your blog from being seen by others on the web. I have blocked mine from showing up but it is only on the count that I have not picked any to become made public. After I finish my final portfolio and everything is crossed and doted I am going to put up all of them but except like five or six, the ones that you can really tell are assignments. Some of my family has asked, “Where is your English class blogger site?” and to that I say “ In due time I will let you witness the spectacle that I have made of my English class". In no way do I use the word spectacle to refer to my work as some sideshow attraction nor should the word spectacle take away from my true intent.
Tuesday, April 17, 2007
Classtration #29
Next semester will feel like a breath of fresh air. The sessions started with all the fury of the winter wrath. It seemed like months of being bundled up, shivering, trying to stay out of the wind, and most days I was frozen to the core. With the summer will come all the summer activities sitting outside all day with a glass of ice tea, people watching, mowing, and general summerieness.Now that I know all the goings on, I do feel more confident in the upcoming class load. I feel that the lessons I have learned this time around, will have a positive impact on my next semester and that from here on in I will become a model student, if there is such a thing. For now I know and now I have the knowledge to rise above the rest. When people come up to me and ask, “What are you going for” I have found the perfect response “two hour on Monday, three hour on Tuesday”. This to some, many seem snide or cynical but my intent is neither. I love coming up with great responses to good questions, it is said that a man that has all the answers has thought of all the questions and that man is me. People hardly ever trip me up on the street, I relish in the fact that I can have a conversation with anyone, at anytime, and hold my own weight. I have been flustered before, there was this one prank phone call where this girl was talking all dirty on the phone and I lost my composure, only to find out later that my friend were listening in on the other line. I do like the challenge homework, coming to class and being ready to work, ready to “do it”. I just wish I could have gotten more done this session. I am kind of bad with dates, I do not know what today’s is, and this has wrecked havoc on me. I continue to pray that I can just get by this time with out being put on some kind of double secret probation next semester. I seen where you have to get nine credits to be eligible for next year and since my math class is not worth a single credit I am left to wonder if my short coming this year are going to make me fail another class. I do not want to say which class but I feel that I am keeping up and showing that I do want to be here even if my attendance does not exactly concur. For some reason it is the same days that something happens with me getting to school on time. I am going to fail my math class with Mr. Hensley and I did dropped it after the midterm but continue to go to class every day and take notes and do my math lab just so that the next time around I will have a better chance, a chance.Next semester I am going to take another English class one that is more writing then anything because I feel that I an a good writer. I do not think I have ever been told that I am not at least a decent writer. I am proud of the body of writing that I have put out in this English class. I go by the old adage that if you are going to write give them something to read. Not just dribble but real page turning material. I would like to think that ninety percent of the time my papers have the effect on people that they can not put it down, that the reader want to read what I have written, and that at the end they do feel that they have been engaged by my work.I am going to be stuck in the core curriculum again but I do feel that it is need and some thing that we all should do. With that said, I think that kids straight out of high school should not have to take much of the core but people like me whom are older should be required to take what I conceder refresher courses. One thing that I do not see much of a need for personally is an art class being in the core, I can not remember the one that I singed up for but the options that I seen are limited and not every well rounded.
Tuesday, April 10, 2007
Process Essay Essie #26
The most difficult job I have ever had is when I built an Air Separator in New Johnsonville Tennessee for the Dupont Company. I was there from the summer of 2002 spring of 2002 till the fall of the same year. From then on when someone says, “Tennessee is in the south,” I whole-heartedly agree with him or her, for I have had personal experience with the Tennessee Valley heat epidemic.The town of New Johnsonville is nestled in a valley on The Tennessee River. The smoke stacks from the Titanium Dioxide enrichment plant loom over the city like some lost vestiges of the by-gone industrial era. For those that do not know Titanium Dioxide is the pure color white. It can be found on the ingredient list of everything from Dime Store candy, to paint, to concrete. I had to take a noxious gases training class, a class on planned exits and their procedures, and a contamination and decontamination seminar. Most people would think twice about accepting a job with risks like permanent lung damage, skin melting off, permanent loss of sight, and/or death. The only hope of survival was this little blue sticker that everyone had to have stuck in their hardhats, on the sticker was a list of whistles that let you know if there was a gas leak, a fire, an impending explosion, or the all clear whistle. Every time it would go off all you would see is people taking off their hardhat and referring to this twelve-cent sticker. The whole time I was there we were evacuated from the plant three times and this was no easy task, from our work site to the green zone it was a six or seven minute walk, long enough to smoke a whole cigarette and finish the car coffee. Even with the well paying job and security of the union; the town never grew past a blip on the map. There were more bars then gas stations, no chain restaurants, and a really bad breeding pool. There was this law on the books that bars could not sell hard booze, so and this was the cool part, you could bring an unopened bottle of what ever into the bar and pay one dollar and could drink at your own desecration but you had to buy chaser from the bar, if your into that sort if thing. I believe in flagrant nonsupport. I will not and have not ever tipped a stripper I will tip the bartender, the waitress, the door guy, and the disc jockey, but never a stripper. On a second note I would like to get poison ivy allover my self and show up Washington heavy. I have been in fifty strip club from the Mouse’s Ear in Knoxville to Cheetahs in Atlanta, to this one thirty or so miles from New Johnsonville. At this strip club they had the same policy about B.Y.O.B that the bar had the only difference is that they did not sell beer, so when you walk in with a case of the Lambic under your arm they charge you one dollar for every bottle, that is an extra twenty-four dollars on to of what you paid for the booze.
I would say that this was the worst job I have ever had, not because of the pay or the hours but because of the false-warnings all the time. When, all day long, you think that there is an impending explosion or gas leak it will start to wear on you, after a while. On most days I would daydream that I was anywhere else besides there and every chance that I got to get off the jobsite I would take it. Most people think that with only a half hour lunch break no one would want to spend that downtime just going to the store and back but with impending danger people would. When I look back on my time in New Johnsonville I am still filled with fear and sorrow for the people of that town. Some people will never know what it is like to live fifty miles out in some backwoods community but I do. I think it is worst on the children, I think that most of them just want to run away as much as I did.The propose of work is not to have fun nor is the day-to-day grind going to be enlightening. The challenges you face will be many no matter what section of the work force you will be applying yourself to. So just keep your head up and the ones out of your hand and all of us will be fine.
I would say that this was the worst job I have ever had, not because of the pay or the hours but because of the false-warnings all the time. When, all day long, you think that there is an impending explosion or gas leak it will start to wear on you, after a while. On most days I would daydream that I was anywhere else besides there and every chance that I got to get off the jobsite I would take it. Most people think that with only a half hour lunch break no one would want to spend that downtime just going to the store and back but with impending danger people would. When I look back on my time in New Johnsonville I am still filled with fear and sorrow for the people of that town. Some people will never know what it is like to live fifty miles out in some backwoods community but I do. I think it is worst on the children, I think that most of them just want to run away as much as I did.The propose of work is not to have fun nor is the day-to-day grind going to be enlightening. The challenges you face will be many no matter what section of the work force you will be applying yourself to. So just keep your head up and the ones out of your hand and all of us will be fine.
Sunday, April 8, 2007
midst #24
My Semester coming to a close in the midst of the Arctic element is not as much of a nuisance as you would think, nor would my blog assignment seem as paper caught in the clippers commands. I feel like the body of my papers has reflected a positive temperament towards the arts and a nonobscure representation of the assignments. With a real knack for editorials I will continue to search for Grammatical truth and I will not cease to assault my way through my college paper writing days, until the day I can once again write just foe the pleasure of it. To me the wind will blow cold when cease to blow.I have failed my math class and will have to take it over. It is Algebra 97 with Mr. Henesy, Tuesday... Thursday... he has granted me asylum for next year. It is not that I could not do the math, it is that I had the fundamental down, so then I did not keep up with the first month of math class, so then I was lost and with destine I have mutter through it. I am just glad that I found a good math teacher the first time around and that I feel confident that I can pass his same class next year. I am here to stay no matter how many things I have to reapply my self to.With the next sixteen weeks will come my next humanity, my next English, and a science class with a lab, the same math and a block of P.E. and summer school, the first summer school session. For summer school I have found a fishing class that only meets four times over the five weeks and a golf class with the same schedule. Next to the classification there is a dollar sing and a T for travel, meaning that you have to have transportation and a fee for your class or admission.For travel plans I have a trip to Mont. Rushmore with my mother and her four sisters family. What I think I have missed the most is the stars, so over the summer I shall spend many moons under the almighty night sky. There happens to be nothing better than to just get away for a few days, just escape with the ones around you now, and live, no one needing nothing but a good time and lunch, something that if you were to step back and look at it would seem black and white.With all this said, I know that summer break is not going to feel long enough, with not enough loitering, not enough laziness, not no time to lounge. The heat of the day will drain my soul, the northern Michigan Delta mosquitoes will drain away my blood, and with the little red dot devils chiggers, I should feel assured that I will swat away the summer. All the swatters and zappers in the world save me now.
Tuesday, April 3, 2007
cashflow #23
The lifestyle of anyone will change upon entering a major university. With all the rules and rituals of entering and applying it often leaves people drained emotionally and financially. What may now seem like a sacrifice will turn into just another day, just another assignment. Even after the clouds break there is still one storm looming on the horizon and it is the silent assailant, an assailant that will follow you even after graduation, and it debt.I have been in a rough patch lately. The people that I have grow accustom to have all but disbanded leaving scattered bands of refuges trying to hang on to middleclassieness, trying to cling to a world that is listing. I admire the settled and always try to see the herd and not the stable. I some time think what my life would be like right now if I were married with children. I know that at the instant that I became " Mister and Miss and their Offspring" that I would go blindly in to some factory job just to be able to provide. This would led to having no other choice accept to by groceries off a credit card and pay some inflated rate on everyday purchase, knowing that there was no way to crawl out of debt any time soon.As humans need optimism, so do we need to see the world around us cloudily as we can. If people did not distance themselves from their worries ninety percent of the time, well would all be consumed with grief. I see it every day, if it is some old couple standing outside of the bank, her waving a statement and him standing there slumped, hands still at his side, look straight down at the asphalt. It is easy to spot the credit and debt people and the cash and carry people. One proving ground for this the local Wall-Mart just sit back and take it all in. I look at the world around me as one big sociological experiment. When I look at people I see intent not the person "some people say look at him his shoes are dirty and I would say look him he is carrying a copy of the New England Journal of medicine.I have just poured through the college money that I accepted. I am a smoker and for every day I decide to wake I smoke seven or eight dollars worth of cigarettes, so over the last twelve weeks I have spent at least six hundred and thirty dollars, which is seven times, seven time twelve. Another expense of mine is that I eat really well. I spent upwards of a hundred dollars every time I enter the groceries store and this never bothers me, what does is having a whole fridge full of food and having some one beg me to go out and spent money on some half decent meal, with half decent service. I am the type that would rather sit around and dirty my whole house entertaining then to go out and have to tip some Gaborone all night.All I can offer in the way of help is just to take a step back every once and a while and see what your situation is, where you stand, and if that thing there that you are standing in starts to smell a little bad find a new perspective and maybe the grass will be greener and not taste of waste. Every day we learn lessons and if we do not take them away with us we are sure to repeat them.
Monday, April 2, 2007
Numbers #22
If you ever take the time to pick up a reference book, the one I would choose would be the Time Almanac. The one that I have is a two thousand and three and was given to me for Christmas of two thousand and four. Notice that I said "Christmas" and not " holiday" I do not see how people take a word like Christmas and turn it in to a word that you do not have to capitalize. If you want to protest, protest around some thing that is not a grammatical error.In the Time almanac they have information pertaining to the last years events be them good or be them bad. They also have world information like the total rain fall for countries in Africa and the natural happenings around the world, to major news event. It always stands to be a good source of quotable information although it is old facts that compiled over the last year. Their Editorial office is in Boston Massachusetts on park plaza while their customer service is Attention: Time Almanac PO Box eleven thousand and sixteen Des Monies Iowa fifty-thousand three-hundred and thirty-six. On the First page with all the copyright information and where it says that they are a part of the Learning Network book publisher it goes on to say, " The Time Almanac welcomes comments and suggestion from readers. Although the editors carefully consider each suggestion, because of the volume of correspondence we receive we cannot correspond personally to each writer. The Time Almanac does not rule on bets or wagers. I wonder how many letters they got asking to settle an argument over a horse race of a football game before they added the clause that states that they do not settle wagers or bets.One section that has captivated me is the section on Law Enforcement and Crime. The actually have the breakdown for all the crime that the nation experiences through the year. All this information is broken up into different categories like violent, property, drug, and public-order offenses. The numbers for federal prison inmates are eleven point nine percent of inmates are in for violent crimes, eight point four percent and in for property crimes, nineteen point seven percent are in for public crimes these include immigration, income tax, escape, flight to avoid prosecution, and national security laws. Ninety three point seven percent of the people incarcerated in America are male leaving only six point three percent woman. While the numbers for different races are closer with thirty-three point three percent being white followed closely by blacks that make up forty-six point five percent, Hispanics only make up seventeen percent, while in the other category, that includes but not limited to Asian, Pacific Islanders, Native Americans, Alaska Natives, and other racial groups.The murder rate for America topped out in '99 with 12,658 people dieing from murder. There were more white people murdered that year than black the numbers were six-thousand three hundred and ten for whites and five thousand eight-hundred and fifty five, while the group for others was only three-hundred and sixty-nine that is only two point nine percent. The murder rates are broken down even more and are listed by the category weapons used. In nineteen-ninety-nine the total murder victims was 12,658 with sixty-five point two percent coming from firearms, that is 8,259 victims, knives and cutting instruments totaled 1,667 I am guessing that it includes chainsaws, axes, pruning sheers, swords, and maybe weed eaters. The numbers for blunt objects (clubs, hammers ect.) and Personal weapons ( hands, feet, fists, head butts, ect.) were close with 736 for blunt objects and 855 for personal weapons. The explosive section had lines through it so that means no one in America died from Explosions. The strangulation deaths were 190 followed closely by asphyxiation deaths was 103. Now some would say there is no difference between strangulation and asphyxiation but there is strangulation is that act of forcibly cutting off circulation and air supply by means of hands or some form of a grout. While asphyxiation can be someone holding a pillow over someone face or hold their head under water. Murder rates for deaths from fire was 125 that is right at one percent of the total. Narcotics deaths was only twenty three people that is not a reflection of overdose death but from forcibly making some one to consume a lethal amount of drugs. Last was Other Weapons the numbers for them was 689 and I cannot fathom what those weapons would be since we have touched on every type of weapon imaginable.I should say that because of rounding that the percentages may not equal 100.
Monday, March 26, 2007
Week #20
This weekend I went to Clarksville Tennessee, to visit my mothers’ sisters’ son. If you were to be within ear shoot of me standing next to a six foot five black man and calling him "cuz" most people would think that I was just using a euphemism but no, he is my cousin. My mother has four sisters, all of them younger, one of them Donna married a black man in the sixties and they had two sons. My cousin Justin is a two tour Iraqi veteran.
Clarksville Tennessee is home to Fort Campbell and one of the largest army bases in the Midwest. Most people would say that Fort Campbell is in Kentucky, which it is, it is just that the right side of US 41 alternate is Kentucky and the left side is Tennessee. With that said, I do not see why any one would shop on the left side of the road, considering that Tennessee has a flat tax across the board of ten percent. That is ten percent on milk, bread, beer, schoolbooks, and new and used cars. I have this idea that Tennessee does not have Powerball so that is why their tax is funny, if they had Powerball then they would have enough money to help school and their communities but they like overtaxing people.
From my mothers’ house, it is ninety miles south on Penneyrile to Fort Campbell. Along the way, if you have ever been, Kentucky opens up from a flat lands in the north to rolling hills as you go further south. It is a really good drive this time of year, with all the forsythias in bloom and the sterile white Bradford pears, daffodils and/or Narcissus. Every once and a while the tree give way to exposed rock cliffs and little creeks that criscross central Kentucky. The only wild life that was present was hawks and buzzards; they are a sure sing of the survival of the fittest rule playing out in the woods and along the parkway. I could not think of a better way to spend my weekend, on the road with my mother, windows down, Sirius satellite radio off, and just the highway ahead.
With much indecision and debate, we decided on the Ruby Tuesdays. That is where we had an early diner. With not a second glance at the menu, I came to the conclusion that I had never eaten at the Ruby Tuesday, even if the decor seemed to spark a wicked case of dayjavue. Even before my backside hit the seat I had been duked, on the way in past the host podium, and around this little corner, sat the salad bar, this is were I was deceived. The salad bar looked so good that not only my mother but my cousin as well, committed on how big it looked and how well stocked it seemed, well this was a farce. The salad bar had a mirror behind it that gave the impression that it was, if any thing, twice as big. So without knowing any better we all accepted the waitress invitation "salad bar anyone".After our meal Justin asked if we would like a tour of the base. This was an opportunity that I could not pass up. I worked at a Naval Air Station in Brunswick Maine and built an aircraft hanger so I knew the gist of getting on and off of a secure military installation. The first question my cousin asked me was if I had gotten my concealed weapons permit yet and if I had a weapon on me. The second question was "got your I.D." and next thing were we on base.
We must have driven around the base for two hours while he showed us the lay out. He lives off base ever since he got back from the war but he showed us two barracks he had lived in. He said that fort Campbell was home to some thirty thousand soldiers. While driving around we saw the jump towers where they train for their airborne status. It was amazing how big the base was there was four different motor pools that were the size of a mall parking lot filled with Humvee and tanks, medical trucks with their distinctive red cross, some Vietnam era tracked vehicles, and a few tank. He pointed out that any building that had a orange triangle with the number four painted on it housed all their toys i.e. guns, rocket launchers, grenade throwers, c4, ammo and body armor all the good stuff.
Clarksville Tennessee is home to Fort Campbell and one of the largest army bases in the Midwest. Most people would say that Fort Campbell is in Kentucky, which it is, it is just that the right side of US 41 alternate is Kentucky and the left side is Tennessee. With that said, I do not see why any one would shop on the left side of the road, considering that Tennessee has a flat tax across the board of ten percent. That is ten percent on milk, bread, beer, schoolbooks, and new and used cars. I have this idea that Tennessee does not have Powerball so that is why their tax is funny, if they had Powerball then they would have enough money to help school and their communities but they like overtaxing people.
From my mothers’ house, it is ninety miles south on Penneyrile to Fort Campbell. Along the way, if you have ever been, Kentucky opens up from a flat lands in the north to rolling hills as you go further south. It is a really good drive this time of year, with all the forsythias in bloom and the sterile white Bradford pears, daffodils and/or Narcissus. Every once and a while the tree give way to exposed rock cliffs and little creeks that criscross central Kentucky. The only wild life that was present was hawks and buzzards; they are a sure sing of the survival of the fittest rule playing out in the woods and along the parkway. I could not think of a better way to spend my weekend, on the road with my mother, windows down, Sirius satellite radio off, and just the highway ahead.
With much indecision and debate, we decided on the Ruby Tuesdays. That is where we had an early diner. With not a second glance at the menu, I came to the conclusion that I had never eaten at the Ruby Tuesday, even if the decor seemed to spark a wicked case of dayjavue. Even before my backside hit the seat I had been duked, on the way in past the host podium, and around this little corner, sat the salad bar, this is were I was deceived. The salad bar looked so good that not only my mother but my cousin as well, committed on how big it looked and how well stocked it seemed, well this was a farce. The salad bar had a mirror behind it that gave the impression that it was, if any thing, twice as big. So without knowing any better we all accepted the waitress invitation "salad bar anyone".After our meal Justin asked if we would like a tour of the base. This was an opportunity that I could not pass up. I worked at a Naval Air Station in Brunswick Maine and built an aircraft hanger so I knew the gist of getting on and off of a secure military installation. The first question my cousin asked me was if I had gotten my concealed weapons permit yet and if I had a weapon on me. The second question was "got your I.D." and next thing were we on base.
We must have driven around the base for two hours while he showed us the lay out. He lives off base ever since he got back from the war but he showed us two barracks he had lived in. He said that fort Campbell was home to some thirty thousand soldiers. While driving around we saw the jump towers where they train for their airborne status. It was amazing how big the base was there was four different motor pools that were the size of a mall parking lot filled with Humvee and tanks, medical trucks with their distinctive red cross, some Vietnam era tracked vehicles, and a few tank. He pointed out that any building that had a orange triangle with the number four painted on it housed all their toys i.e. guns, rocket launchers, grenade throwers, c4, ammo and body armor all the good stuff.
Greater Expectations #19
The expectation of college professors and high school teachers can varie little or a lot depending on the questions we ask. If we ask whom do you think more fondly of, I believe most people would pick nether and most of the time they would answer that the teacher they think most fondly of is an elementary school teacher. Some white haired old lady that never wore any thing with a pattern and no bright colors. The two things that I miss about elementary school is the naps. It is kind of the same I see people asleep everyday at the University of Southern Indianan.One of the differences that I have noticed is that college professors seem to be more distant. I have not been engaged much by the college professors I have had. None of them has asked how my day is going or how may weekend went. One reason this could be is that our time, as students, is limited to one semester with the one professor.In high school at the start of class we would discuss current event and news stories. This is helpful in discerning who people are and what they think of the world around them. This is one of the best ways to get to know someone, by getting some ones opinion. This is something that I miss getting that little bit of insight into some one. But with fifty minute classes I can see where there is not enough time to chit chat or have open panel discussion about topics of the day.High school teachers expected you to be there every day and college professors seem not to care. But if you happen to miss the same class seven time I think they drop you from the class. My last two years of high school was in Kentucky, the year was ninety-seven and ninety-eight I think, but the point I am getting at is that those two years the state of Kentucky implemented this rule that for every day you miss after a certain amount that they would start docking you points off your grades. I was never the best student in high school but I always passed until this rule went in to effect. This caused me to drop out because no one wants to attend the eleventh grade three times. The reason why I was absent was that my girlfriend at the time was eighteen and a home owner. When she was younger she never got along with her mother so when she turned seventeen her grandparents whom were slumlords or landlords, which ever you prefer, gave her a house if she would stay in school. Another reason why I missed so much school was because she was two years my senior and when she graduated I put her on my emergency card list. So when I was at school I would be sitting there and over the loud speaker would come "Chris get your thing and report to the lobby" and we would go to her house and drink and watch the Animaniacs.High school teacher expect to mold you and college professors expect you to be molded. Since it has been eight or so since i have been in school i have mold my self but not into a student. Best intentions are usually just that intentions, intentions that do not come to fruition. If I could start my college life over again my expectation for myself, I would hope, would be realized.
The Diff #18
Any two people are bound to have different characteristics and different personal habits most of them are ingrained early in childhood. Just like a tiger cant change his spots and a Dalmatian skin has black spots we are left with what we were born with, what we were raised with. Sure we can get rhinoplastie so it is harder to tell our heritage, or color our hair and eyebrows so no one will know we come from an all blond family but the fact remains that we know who we are and that is all that matters.I know quite a few people that have wired eating habits. I have a friend Joe that thinks if it is not in a bowl with milk on top, it is not breakfast, while I prefer some kind of eggs and my choice of pork of the first meal of the day, even though I usually go with out that most important meal of the day. I have a friend Navajo who is a ripped and a mussel head starts every day with a protein shake and a can of tuna.One idea that I have is about people that do not eat any thing green, carnivores if you will, is that they never had to. The way I see it is that as snot nosed little kids they would scream and kick about how they hate carrots, they hate broccoli, or that they hate capers and mommy would just cook them macaroni and cheese for every meal. As they grow in to adolescences and adulthood they remember that they do not like carrots but they don not know why, when the real reason is that they were just brats that were more interested in getting their way then trying new foods. Habit is taught and the lessons learned will follow you through life even if you cannot tell you are on a path that does not meander through the vegetable garden.While we are in the kitchen we should touch on cleanliness. My grandmother all ways told me their are to kinds of people, people that do things because they want to and people that do things because they are told to. Now with much reluctance I am going to say that I live with a total slob, she is a she in her middle twenties and for some reason has some of the most repelling habits I have ever had to live with. She will cook and just leave the stove dirty with spots of stuff, caked on gunk, pasta burnt and stuck to the stove, all the spices she uses left out, butter spoiling on the counter, and shit spilled on the floor. I think that if you are hungry enough to cook that you should be hungry enough to clean. She has this habit where she will eat in the living room and just leave her plates on the coffee table or under the coffee table. It got so bad that I would do the dishes but leave the dirty living room dishes under the table after many days there got to be like ten plates and utensils under the table before she pick them up. But the worst part is that she has a boyfriend that does not do a f**king thing either and it is like living with two little kids.As I brainstormed and compiled my thoughts for this paper I came to a conclusion that seemed to be right in front of me all of this time, it is one that had never dawned on me. The conclusion it is that with having to pick up after grown-ass people every day that my grades are going to suffer. I am the kind of person that is more ashamed of the way my house looks then the way I look, that I may be unkempt but my house is not. This is a problem that I am going to have to straighten out soon if I am to keep my sanity in tact. I am the kind of person that does not do confrontation very well and I will sidestep it every chance that I get. This is probably where my problem is coming from. How can I help myself? Will I help myself? When will I help myself? All the advice that I can offer myself is say it, do it, and it will get said, and it will get done. Well that is what I need to tell myself.
Tuesday, March 13, 2007
A Little Extra #17
This years spring break had a little extra bonus that came in the form of an extra hour of day light thanks to our government moving daylight savings time. Even with a week and an extra hour of off time it did not feel very vacation-ie. For some reason I feel like I was being pulled in many different directions at once.One of the odd facts about growing old is that every so often people have a fallings outs, and no longer want to socialize with each other. But this does not just stop with the parties in question it washes over onto every one else. So people like me have to tip toe around making sure that this person is not around that person and that person is not around this person and so on. So if you call party A to invite them out and they decline then should you invite their party B out to the same function even if there is the off chance that party A might show up. This did happen on my spring break and seems to happen on a regular basis even though it is never on purpose. I have put the wrong people in the same room so many times that it has the effect of bringing people back together romantic and platonic.It seemed that every day of my spring break if I wanted to be alone someone would pop up wanting to chill all day and if I wanted to chill I would go all day and not see another soul. I have spent many years weeding out people that did not mesh in to the overall group and many people have wed and divorced, moved out of the country, had one kid, had more than one kid, got lost, got found, or just got away. Now I am left with just this one thought that I don’t have enough people around me now or it could be that the people around me do not have enough time now. I guess it is said right that we all do look back on the past fondly I think it is not because it was a fond time it just that people forget all the little bumps in the road and every thing seems smooth or sment smothed.
Tuesday, February 27, 2007
Monday, February 26, 2007
You Chews #15
"Tonight will be a good night" that is what Alexander says to himself every night as he straightens his cap in the mirror. He is an older man, in his forties; time has done him well with only a small spot of gray behind his right ear to give his age away. For twenty years he has had the same routine he wakes up around dusk, fills his French press, and puts the same Bing Crosby record on the Wurlitzer. He has lived alone in the same small flat since he was twenty years old. He has never been married nor does he have any children, the last of his immediate family died years ago. The closest he ever came to have a meaningful relationship was when he asked out Mary Owens to his senior prom. With all this said he is a well-adjusted man with not an ounce of worry to speak of.He steps out the door every night at promptly at 7:15; the light from the gas street lamps paints the sidewalk with in an orange glow. The night air has crispness, the first of the season, with the moon behind him and the streets before him he sets off. All he wants to do is retire, find a nice little house next to a lake and fish, somewhere up state. Three years that’s all he has left, that what he tells himself.
For the longest time he has cursed his chosen profession, he dreams of the old days when he had no cares in the world, when he felt safe. Most people take for granted that safe feeling, like a pig in a pen not like a chicken in a snake coop. Some people think that “sleeping with one eye open” is just a phrase but no Alex does not fall asleep with his eyes closed he fall asleep with his eyes open. His house is like a fortress with all kinds of booby traps and noisemakers but all of this was still not enough to let him get a good night sleep. When he awakens in the morning it is not with a yawn and a stretch but with a jerk. He pops up out of bed like a jack in the box with his Wather in his hand even before his eyes open, this continues all day while he is home moving his Wather from one room to another, from the bathroom sink, to the stove, to the closet. Most people get burnt out before they put in half the time in the agency that he has. He just hopes that time has not caught up with him, that somehow he will out run this one last stint. He never really liked France it was nice at times but it was never home. His work tonight takes him in the middle of town and gives him time to stop off and have a cup of coffee. There me meets a man he has known his entire career. They sat and chat about the old days before the wall fell and how they are getting along. After a long while Alex and the man part ways but is not the only chance encounter of the night. Later he runs into an entrapanure a man that is a millionaire and has ties to everyone. The next person he passes cross with is an old friend for the agency. Later on he meets a neighbor and talks with him for a while nothing seems out of the ordinary.But some time during his rounds someone slips him polonium-210, a rare radioactive isotope, and fatally poisons him. His name was Alexander Litvinenko he was exKGB officer, Britain gave him asylum because he was outspoken about the Kremlin and the new state of Russia. It is yet to be determined who was behind this but I seem to feel that it was Russian President Vladimir Putin, since snitches get stitches and all.Some places, names, and/or events are wrong, some are right you choose.
For the longest time he has cursed his chosen profession, he dreams of the old days when he had no cares in the world, when he felt safe. Most people take for granted that safe feeling, like a pig in a pen not like a chicken in a snake coop. Some people think that “sleeping with one eye open” is just a phrase but no Alex does not fall asleep with his eyes closed he fall asleep with his eyes open. His house is like a fortress with all kinds of booby traps and noisemakers but all of this was still not enough to let him get a good night sleep. When he awakens in the morning it is not with a yawn and a stretch but with a jerk. He pops up out of bed like a jack in the box with his Wather in his hand even before his eyes open, this continues all day while he is home moving his Wather from one room to another, from the bathroom sink, to the stove, to the closet. Most people get burnt out before they put in half the time in the agency that he has. He just hopes that time has not caught up with him, that somehow he will out run this one last stint. He never really liked France it was nice at times but it was never home. His work tonight takes him in the middle of town and gives him time to stop off and have a cup of coffee. There me meets a man he has known his entire career. They sat and chat about the old days before the wall fell and how they are getting along. After a long while Alex and the man part ways but is not the only chance encounter of the night. Later he runs into an entrapanure a man that is a millionaire and has ties to everyone. The next person he passes cross with is an old friend for the agency. Later on he meets a neighbor and talks with him for a while nothing seems out of the ordinary.But some time during his rounds someone slips him polonium-210, a rare radioactive isotope, and fatally poisons him. His name was Alexander Litvinenko he was exKGB officer, Britain gave him asylum because he was outspoken about the Kremlin and the new state of Russia. It is yet to be determined who was behind this but I seem to feel that it was Russian President Vladimir Putin, since snitches get stitches and all.Some places, names, and/or events are wrong, some are right you choose.
Sunday, February 25, 2007
What I"ve Lernt From #14
When I was young I held the belief that the United States government was a fair and justice institution and its soul purpose was to better the lives of its citizens. As I grew from a wide-eyed child with no hard idea of the world around me, into a cynical individual with a vast knowledge of our global community, I was forced to abandon this idea, that our nations impact on the rest of the world is always fair and just. The one twinkle of hope for me is that with time all the backwoods good old boys that make up our government will die out leaving us then with a fresh start, with politicians that did not grow up in the dark-ages of the twentieth century.For me the government has always seemed a little unattractive. Old people in wool suits doing boring things, they are like your grandparents with dentures and limps, it must smell like Geritol, Ben jay, and old spice in the white house. I wonder how many chairs and couches the pentagon throws out every year due to pee damage. Do you think any of the chief Justice's where depends. To me they are no more then puppeteers their stage the Senate or the capital lawn and their audience are like two year olds, they have to raise their hands to talk, they take cookie breaks, and sit in folding chairs.But this servers a greater good, this is what has to happen every day to get an interstates paved or Indian burial ground protected. Like the flu or phenomena, the people that are most affected by this are the old and the young. The bureaucrats cut school funding and tinker with Medicare, they will put "the fear" in you if you are impressionable, they prey on the impoverished and the underprivileged. As long as there are billions of humans on the earth, so there shall be governing bodies. The sooner we learn these lessons and start to apply them to our everyday lives the better we will be. In the future I would like to see a change in the way this country is ran. Ratifying the constitution on a city, state, and federal level most likely, is the only way it can be done. One hope that I have is that with all the new technology and the Internet that we will become a true democracy and not this have and have not-ocracy. In twenty years, with the Internet, I would like to see the senate disbanded. If we can get eighty percent of the registered voters online why can’t they make all the same dictions that the senate makes? Who knows better what roads need to be paved, the chauffer-ed or the working class. How can people that fly first class or by private plane decide to cut public transportation. Being a good person with a nice demeanor and well adjusted, I would spring at the idea of being put in the position to make decisions that would impact my country. If I were the P-P-President things for us and our world would be better. I can only dream have the day that I can sit back and say, " this country is run fine Mertal". One of my only hopes is that when I leave this world my children will not only be better off but the whole world will be better off. I really hope that some of these ideas will be realized. We could use some thinkers in the White House and not so many wankers. It would be strange for any one to be put in to power, to rule. Think of it, life at the capitol with two-hour lunches, killer parking, immunity, impunity and your own secretary. It would rock. If we could all adopt some of this lifestyle with out turning in to a prune, we would. I know I could use a promotion.
Tuesday, February 20, 2007
Con #13
There is little guidance I can offer on how to start college effectively, since my entry was fraught with missteps, sidesteps, and back steps. Starting college is processes that that includes tons of paperwork, miles of leg work, and enough worry to last in to your junior year. With all the "goings on around" it is surprising that more people do not fall through the cracks. With lost paper work comes lost ambition and that leads to loss of time or even the loss of a semester. There are ways to avoid all of this but I am just now figuring out how I would do it all over again.
When I decided that it was time for me to go back to school, I started to notice all of these commercial for loan money and commercial that try to trick you in to accepting some kind of loan. I do not know for sure but I, kind of think, that they are trying to scam people. Are the loan companies easier to pay back? Do they have a better interest rate? Should I have investigated them, before hand? These are all questions that I have had since I enrolled. I noticed that on the Black Entertainment Network channel that they have more commercials geared towards college students then all the other channels put together. This might be because U.N.C.F. is trying to get there number up and to justify all the television promotions, that they put out there.First, when enrolling get as much information as possible, read it, learn it, know it, this for me was, just tedious banter going on in circles with no end but, it is information you need to know. If your are lucky you might have some one in your corner of the enrollment ring, like a friend or a friend of a friend, someone that can help guide you through the maze red tape. In my case this was a six-year senior that just added more trouble than he was worth.Most people would think that the easy way out is through the admissions office or the financial aid office. In a perfect office world this would be a true statement but it was not in my case. I have spent the better part of a dozen hours in those office's because I was never told every little thing that I had to do and in what order. Every visit would go the same way, with me getting directions and following them exactly the way they were laid out in front of me, only to find out later that I had been told the wrong thing. It continued on like this for weeks with me being told to go here and then finding out that these people had nothing to do with this and those people had nothing to do with that.If I were a harsh or rash man this would of rubbed me the wrong way but I understand the concept of the easy answer although it gets me every time. The easy answer idea is that when someone asks you something and you just point in some direction and the questioner will mindlessly drown on this way or that. It is also referred to as the wild goose formula for riding yourself of some unwanted attention or situation. This can also be used on yourself, like when you white lie yourself out of a family event like a trip to Branson, Missouri.So in summery do not look to the desk help as help, look at them as secretaries whom make appointments with people that can answer your questions, people that can help. This is the only way to avoid the pointless onslot of information from someone that is not qualified to dispense it. We can all take a lesson from this and it is that you should not take information to heart or mind from an operator, counter person, or any one else that does not have an office with a door. If we can come together as a people to stop the b*llsh*t we will all have more time, a better everyday attitude, and a better standard of life.
When I decided that it was time for me to go back to school, I started to notice all of these commercial for loan money and commercial that try to trick you in to accepting some kind of loan. I do not know for sure but I, kind of think, that they are trying to scam people. Are the loan companies easier to pay back? Do they have a better interest rate? Should I have investigated them, before hand? These are all questions that I have had since I enrolled. I noticed that on the Black Entertainment Network channel that they have more commercials geared towards college students then all the other channels put together. This might be because U.N.C.F. is trying to get there number up and to justify all the television promotions, that they put out there.First, when enrolling get as much information as possible, read it, learn it, know it, this for me was, just tedious banter going on in circles with no end but, it is information you need to know. If your are lucky you might have some one in your corner of the enrollment ring, like a friend or a friend of a friend, someone that can help guide you through the maze red tape. In my case this was a six-year senior that just added more trouble than he was worth.Most people would think that the easy way out is through the admissions office or the financial aid office. In a perfect office world this would be a true statement but it was not in my case. I have spent the better part of a dozen hours in those office's because I was never told every little thing that I had to do and in what order. Every visit would go the same way, with me getting directions and following them exactly the way they were laid out in front of me, only to find out later that I had been told the wrong thing. It continued on like this for weeks with me being told to go here and then finding out that these people had nothing to do with this and those people had nothing to do with that.If I were a harsh or rash man this would of rubbed me the wrong way but I understand the concept of the easy answer although it gets me every time. The easy answer idea is that when someone asks you something and you just point in some direction and the questioner will mindlessly drown on this way or that. It is also referred to as the wild goose formula for riding yourself of some unwanted attention or situation. This can also be used on yourself, like when you white lie yourself out of a family event like a trip to Branson, Missouri.So in summery do not look to the desk help as help, look at them as secretaries whom make appointments with people that can answer your questions, people that can help. This is the only way to avoid the pointless onslot of information from someone that is not qualified to dispense it. We can all take a lesson from this and it is that you should not take information to heart or mind from an operator, counter person, or any one else that does not have an office with a door. If we can come together as a people to stop the b*llsh*t we will all have more time, a better everyday attitude, and a better standard of life.
Sunday, February 18, 2007
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
Shoe Size #11
I like to think of myself as a world traveler, although the wet foot-dry foot policy would say that I have never been out of the country. I have seen much of the world, much of the U.S., and more people then I could ever count. Since I turned eighteen I have lived I eight states and twelve cities all on the east coast. I have lived in Knoxville at the warren house apartments on Ten Mile road while I waited for a job at the Oakridge facility, a nuclear research facility. I lived New Johnsonville, both in Tennessee, and worked at a Dupont plant, building a air separator that turned regular air in to bottled gasses like argon, helium, and got to hang out with some Germans that had came over with the machine and was there to make sure that we installed it right. I built a hanger for the navy in Brunswick Maine that housed a squadron of these planes that have a bump on the under side that was for looking for submarines although they never found one in American waters. There in Brunswick they done their cold weather training and there would be guys repelling form helicopters and jets taking off all day, I even was even with in rock throwing distance to Air Force One, most of the time they fly in to Portsmith New Hampshire, but for some Reason on this day they flew in there. I worked for Compaction of America in Paris TX, and for a Kimberly Clark also in Texas. I built a coal separating plant in Batavia Ohio, and one in Henderson Ky, and almost got arrested at Oktoberfest, for being drunk under aged and asking where how to get to Bolivia instead of Batavia. The Compaction of America was in Kawani Ill, and that town had the most nasty water I have ever had it was so bad that at restaurants they would ask if you wanted ice. For me this has left me with the urge to go back and see these places again. The last place I lived was Palm Beach Gardens Florida. I was there last winter from November to February, helping my oldest brother in his job. Most people say “oh ya West Palm Beach” when ever to refer to palm beach, but there are four palm beaches. The first is Palm Beach is right on the beach and is almost an island. Palm Beach down town has more banks then I have ever seen in my life, in one place. They are grand building, looking more like mansions than banks. With names you cannot pronounce, from countries you cannot spell. Drive down any street and your bound to run in to a Ferrari Dealer, Armani clothing store, there are two Armani one high priced one and an Armani discount store, the cheese cake factory, and tons of people. There is all he nightlife you would ever want. Going west from there you come to West Palm Beach this is past the intercostals waterway and is still ritzy but what I loved about the beaches is that a S Class Mercedes does not even turn one head on the street, when around here people think they are shiting in high cotton with a new corolla. People need to take a step back and look not at themselves but at the world around. When all you can see is the next step in front of you, your perception is nil and your world shrinks to the size of a footprint, the world is not measured in shoe size.
Thursday, February 8, 2007
Something from Nothing #9
Last week while shopping for nothing unparticular I happened upon the large appliance aisle. There I browsed in lanes looking at the styles and color options of new stoves, refrigerator or, washing machines, and microwaves. Some of the new microwaves cost as much as eighteen hundred dollars and will cook things faster and better then anything before. They have browners that will give the appearance of baking, with food that has a crispy crust just like an oven. An incandescing light is used in some models to improve cook time and to cook faster. This technology is nice but for now it is still out of reach for most consumers who are just trying to spend thirty dollars on one so they can reheat a burrito or warm a cup of coffee. This is fine a regular microwave should only be used to reheat food not to cook it. Besides bacon "which I think is fine to cook in a microwave" I thought no one could or would want to cook something raw in a microwave, from start to finish, until the other day.I was having a conversation with someone at a local tavern telling him about my trip to electronic store. Regaling them in what I have seen and learned, this continued on for a while with nothing really said. Until he started talking about cooking scrambled egg in the microwave from scratch from just raw eggs in a bowl. I found that to be a disturbing idea one that I would never repeat. At this time I should say that my kitchen is always clean and I am a proud dishwasher so the notion of having to wash a pan or dirtying the stovetop I say bring it on.The man went in to detail on how to prepare the micro-eggs in depth. Telling how while watching through the glass panel door you can watch the reactions happen. I have never tried this so I can only repeat what he said, so my description maybe off somewhat. But inesance you mix as many egg as you want and milk in to a bowl and put it in the microwave. He told as how his stepmother would cook eggs for the entire family for breakfast like this in one attempt in one bowl. I do not know why but this was unsettling to me for some reason. Just cooking eggs in the microwave is an alien thought. He said "you cook them till they are done" and I replied, "two three minutes" he said "till they are done" well as a cook myself this was not enough information for me. He insisted that you never have to stir them or tent to them you just hit start and watch. What was crazy is that he said like plump up into a blob of egg. It’s like egg Jell-O from the microwave or something. The eggs expand as the cook and you can see this happen. The scrambled part is where you take a fork and break up the egg blob in to tiny scrambled egg blobs. Now I am an egghead I eat them, scramble them, Sunnyside up, omelet, sulfa, cambula, whatever but not in the microwave.I have cooked for my self so long that I consider myself a chef and I know without a shadow of a doubt that I can out cook most people, most people’s parent, I will even out cook your grandma and that is no hogwash. I own a flour sifter and sift all the flour I ever use, I make sauces from cornstarch, pasta from nothing, from nothing and a dusty board, My heart goes out to all that miss out on homemade food the one you see at the American style buffet as you drive by. I know the joy of spending hours making a meal all the prep work, ruining some thing three times in a row before you can say yes I can my a cobbler form fruit and flour, yes I use turmeric, yes I cook.
Tuesday, February 6, 2007
BRONCOILLAC #8
In a world of shock and ah and capitalist warmongers, they want our attention focused directly on the screen, directly on them. They keep us pointed straight ahead toward the terror alert level yellow one day red the next. Who is left to save us all, well its Charlie Gibson to the rescue, with his devil may care attitude, silk tie, hands that have never saw a days worth of work, pompadour comb over, and penny loafers. Does this sound like the start of some Riddle Scott movie no this sounds like the start of my day.I have to watch CNN before I ever step out the thresh hold of my house; this has been ingrained into me. What if they are looking for some white guy 5’2 to5’11, freshly shaven or not, 145 to 200 lbs, driving a white Bronco or red Cadillac, what then I ask you if you fit in to this description would you venture in the wilds of suburbia.Shock is a reaction and the effect of this has a cause. Knee-jerk timing and a steady hand is all that apply. Its not that were caught off guard it is that we are now ready for any eventa falling glass, a stranded puppy, a friend surprise, all these invoke a reaction and it is from here we find our self.People have craved suspense as entertainment for thousands of year from Shakespeare to H.G.Wells. It does not matter if it is on stage, screen, or sidewalk its all-good ground for storytelling. Some would say that with new movie and c g I we can now see and experience things like never before, seeing them in a whole new light. Hogwash I say. Good suspense and folklore is dying out as time goes by. We need to listen with open ears to all that going on around. So much has been lost with languages and cultures extinct now and no way to trace most of their authors their works are lost. We will continue forward through recorded time from now to oblivion with only PG rated Disney movies and network television miniseries dribble.As far as real shock value that is found in everyday life. These are the things that make the hair on the back of your neck stand up. There from the mundane little car swerve to avoid a glass bottle, or thinking you have just lost your car keys, to real life and death moments that happen all around you every day. Some people take some of these as life affirming moments, epiphanies, or revelations. Even fewer changing their way of life altogether if it’s climbing the Alps, building a boat, or collecting ten thousand toilet seats, it changes you.I have never been close to something horrible, no one moment of terror, and of this I guess I am lucky, all though luck has no count in it. Most is timing, it’s being at that stoplight, that edge, there at the split second its not that you’re on time just that you are there then. Most of the time people do not look back in regret or hurt, it’s that it becomes a part of them, lives in them, is them.As humans we love the separated fear that comes a long with watching a horror movie in a dimly lit theater the red carpet stretched out in front of us, safe and warm. From gladiators in the roman times to modern day alligators tamers shows that dot Florida we all will gather to witness uncertainties, who will lose a finger today we ask each other 'round the water cooler. It all comes down to having something to talk about if there is a good plot and character development we might listen we might care
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Story Tree #6
.For the last few weeks I have been getting accustom to new surrounding, new people, and pretty much a new way of life. As a new student at a major university with no clue what to except everything is an adventure. And this is not only true for me but for my cat as well. He is a country cat use to wide open spaces and endless abundance of small creatures to prey upon. I think that the lack of bloodshed has taken a toll on him, for now he is a city cat with no city cat skills. He is not use to all the extra sounds in the city, buses going this way and that, people choking the streets, the odd fire engine or cop car tearing ass down the street with light and siren all in a blaze. Some times he looks up at me with this bewildered look as to say, “where have you taken me or what have I done to deserve this”. The only comfort I can offer is a pat on the head and some whiskies.
My feline is an old beast although he is still in tip-top shape, able to hold his own with any other cat placed in his way. He came from a friend’s grandmother after she pasted away and I was willed the cat because I showed more interest in him than any one else around. After her (Kellys') grandmother went to the nursing home she moved into her grandmothers (Rubys') house. Kelly had two little kittens that would not let Charlie see the light of day. As anyone knows, kittens get away with anything you will let them and Kelly let the cats get away with murder, well maybe not murder but assault for sure. Charlie would have to hide from the terrible two and if he got hungry enough he would have to risk an ass whipping to get a drink of a bit to eat. That was no way for a cat to live, in the shadows and afraid for himself. I have seen my cat kill baby bunnies that are bigger then a kittens but I do not know why he would not just kill the kittens. This is how we came to gather as cat and owner.
My cat got his last name for a popular Comedy Central television show, the Dave Chappell show, not his first name but his last name. On the Dave Chappell show there is this skit with Rick James and Charlie Murphy, Mr. James comes up to the bar to find Eddie Murphy brother Charlie there and television history is made, With a thunderous “I’m Rick James Bitch” mister James slaps the dogcrap out of Charlie Murphy sending him to floor riving in pain. This is how my cat got his last name, I would say “Charlie Murphy “ and slap my cat and to this day just the phrase "Charlie Murphy" will make my cat cower down not on defeat but in shear compliance with the Law of Rick James.
My feline is an old beast although he is still in tip-top shape, able to hold his own with any other cat placed in his way. He came from a friend’s grandmother after she pasted away and I was willed the cat because I showed more interest in him than any one else around. After her (Kellys') grandmother went to the nursing home she moved into her grandmothers (Rubys') house. Kelly had two little kittens that would not let Charlie see the light of day. As anyone knows, kittens get away with anything you will let them and Kelly let the cats get away with murder, well maybe not murder but assault for sure. Charlie would have to hide from the terrible two and if he got hungry enough he would have to risk an ass whipping to get a drink of a bit to eat. That was no way for a cat to live, in the shadows and afraid for himself. I have seen my cat kill baby bunnies that are bigger then a kittens but I do not know why he would not just kill the kittens. This is how we came to gather as cat and owner.
My cat got his last name for a popular Comedy Central television show, the Dave Chappell show, not his first name but his last name. On the Dave Chappell show there is this skit with Rick James and Charlie Murphy, Mr. James comes up to the bar to find Eddie Murphy brother Charlie there and television history is made, With a thunderous “I’m Rick James Bitch” mister James slaps the dogcrap out of Charlie Murphy sending him to floor riving in pain. This is how my cat got his last name, I would say “Charlie Murphy “ and slap my cat and to this day just the phrase "Charlie Murphy" will make my cat cower down not on defeat but in shear compliance with the Law of Rick James.
End Times #3
End Times
In times that are uncertain anyone would dwell on the positive. The world is changing, and for what it will become, that is not for us to decide. In life, peoples pursuit of things takes hold firmly after adolescents and continue well on into adulthood. This springs off many other side shoots of dependence and a need to cling to thing that will not have them heaving them self off of a cliff or something, well that my friend is a hobby. “Idle hands are the devil play thing” that statement stands true today, with our nonstop way of life and this ongoing drive that pushes us all in to oblivion, we should feel lucky that at least there will be free time in between.Going into antiquity there has always been pastimes, not all of them being sporting matters. This class of person whom seeks out solitude in the pursuit of some non-sporting affairs was quickly dubbed “dork”. This title has been handed down from generation to generation, father to son and so on, its lineages can be traced back to the dawn of man. In the list of utter uselessness the “nerd” comes next. This is yet another of branch of the dorkeus sapien family tree, their need for fantasy, sci-fi, and role-playing is what sets them apart. For they are left to imagine the other side, the other half if you will, self imprisoned in their dimly lit living room world, half circle low kick all day, numbers wore of all the dice, that faint smell of inhaler and eczema all a wash in some basement some where. This can be caught early in life and with the right treatment stamped out.Freewill does come into count, anyone can advance from one stage to another, the key is exposure. You have to limit yourself on how many “get her done” and “gag me with a spoon” you can have in your life. Youthamism are just that, for the youth to use, no honest adult should fall for the MTV trappings. And just like gambler with playing cards in the house you have to clean house. Throw out the product placement junk you have, go outside experience life and in all the confusion, all the mess, your true self will come out and then and only then can you have a more well rounded life. And in time, you to might end up with something you love a hobby or interest you enjoy and will take with you for the rest of your life. We as people, as flawed people, need something to fill our cracks, hang on to what you love, give all you got, and don’t let any one tell you otherwise.
In times that are uncertain anyone would dwell on the positive. The world is changing, and for what it will become, that is not for us to decide. In life, peoples pursuit of things takes hold firmly after adolescents and continue well on into adulthood. This springs off many other side shoots of dependence and a need to cling to thing that will not have them heaving them self off of a cliff or something, well that my friend is a hobby. “Idle hands are the devil play thing” that statement stands true today, with our nonstop way of life and this ongoing drive that pushes us all in to oblivion, we should feel lucky that at least there will be free time in between.Going into antiquity there has always been pastimes, not all of them being sporting matters. This class of person whom seeks out solitude in the pursuit of some non-sporting affairs was quickly dubbed “dork”. This title has been handed down from generation to generation, father to son and so on, its lineages can be traced back to the dawn of man. In the list of utter uselessness the “nerd” comes next. This is yet another of branch of the dorkeus sapien family tree, their need for fantasy, sci-fi, and role-playing is what sets them apart. For they are left to imagine the other side, the other half if you will, self imprisoned in their dimly lit living room world, half circle low kick all day, numbers wore of all the dice, that faint smell of inhaler and eczema all a wash in some basement some where. This can be caught early in life and with the right treatment stamped out.Freewill does come into count, anyone can advance from one stage to another, the key is exposure. You have to limit yourself on how many “get her done” and “gag me with a spoon” you can have in your life. Youthamism are just that, for the youth to use, no honest adult should fall for the MTV trappings. And just like gambler with playing cards in the house you have to clean house. Throw out the product placement junk you have, go outside experience life and in all the confusion, all the mess, your true self will come out and then and only then can you have a more well rounded life. And in time, you to might end up with something you love a hobby or interest you enjoy and will take with you for the rest of your life. We as people, as flawed people, need something to fill our cracks, hang on to what you love, give all you got, and don’t let any one tell you otherwise.
You Pick #5
A letter to craft foods
As we walk down through the through fairs we will come to the spot where the oh ya factor comes into place. Twelve items or less this is what it has come down to. On the left we have the be all end all of the snake food world. Yes you are all snakes in the grass. As consumers we are backstabbers and when the risk of profit lums high on the shelf of excess the thin white line is far in the distance. Savage are we at the watering hole our young left out for the slaughter, the old left panting in the open, all bets are off. We double check the expiration date, thump, and shake and smell our way down the aisles. Be damned crooked shopping carts. There are onlya few that are still standing there are only a few left. The chattering teeth of the defeated will ring in the cat food aisle. The magizne racks all overturned, candy spilled on the floor, the faint smell of paint. All left now to do is just make it down the block, a left on Washington, cross the lawn, up the stairs, and through the door all the while hoping no one is lieing in wait for me there.
As we walk down through the through fairs we will come to the spot where the oh ya factor comes into place. Twelve items or less this is what it has come down to. On the left we have the be all end all of the snake food world. Yes you are all snakes in the grass. As consumers we are backstabbers and when the risk of profit lums high on the shelf of excess the thin white line is far in the distance. Savage are we at the watering hole our young left out for the slaughter, the old left panting in the open, all bets are off. We double check the expiration date, thump, and shake and smell our way down the aisles. Be damned crooked shopping carts. There are onlya few that are still standing there are only a few left. The chattering teeth of the defeated will ring in the cat food aisle. The magizne racks all overturned, candy spilled on the floor, the faint smell of paint. All left now to do is just make it down the block, a left on Washington, cross the lawn, up the stairs, and through the door all the while hoping no one is lieing in wait for me there.
Walkers Log 001.1
Before one can dive into explaining ones self, there are a few ground rules to deal with. Now these will pop up from time to time so get use to adjusting for the curve and we can be on the straight and narrow before long. A person whom has been appointed the task of summing themselves up into a nice neat ball can come into many hurdles.The first of which is stone cold fibbery. This is where a person recounts events that they have never experienced or in no why shape or form ever been around. The second is flexible fact and this implies just what it seems, that a person has been to a place or in a situation but the outcome or facts surrounding the event have been modified in a way to bring some emotional response to the reader. After flexible fact come narcissism this is where the writer dwells on themselves and their surrounding to the extent to where the reader looses sight of the writers’ main topic and the reader becomes lost in the rhetoric of a babbling wildman, woman, or person. There are many more short falls and pit traps that any seasoned writer can fall into the trick is not looking down to see if you are walking the line just feel your way along.As a male twenty something I herd much of the world and witnessed less. This in not due to the mtv culture that has befallen us all, it’s shortly because my time here, up to this point, has been filled with thing I have to do. Things that meet someone else’s goal, things needed to survive, things need to strive. You ask me what I’ve seen of the world, what has shaped me and what shape I have become. Gentlemen I implore you, ask me anything, ask me any question, just keep it in the form of a question and don’t ask me to start any response with the word or letter I...
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)