Every day you wake up and think "the world can't get any worse". And every day it turns out you're wrong.
I don't know what makes a monster.
I don't know what kind of animal wakes up and decides to murder a child, let alone 20.
I don't know whether he had a terrible upbringing, whether his parents carved his evil, or if he was just born twisted.
What I do know is this; we are a nation of narcissists. Right now politicians and ordinary citizens are beating their chests, lighting their torches and raising their banners. "Guns don't kill people." "If we get rid of the guns, things like this wouldn't happen."
What those people won't be saying is the truth. There is evil in the world. Bad things happen to the undeserving and the innocent. There is nothing you can do to prevent that. And Right, Left or in the Middle, we failed those children.
Democrat, Republican, Libertarian, Green Party... as a whole, we failed them.
I didn't put a gun in the hand of the killer just by supporting the Second Amendment. You didn't make him crazy by supporting Obamacare. But though we can't account for one lone mad man with a gun, what we have done over years and decades is foster an environment that makes it easier for things like this to happen.
I think it started well before I was born, but I know it happened in my lifetime. You can feel it in the air. This isn't the world we were given. And it damn sure isn't the world we were promised. We made it worse. We got lazy. We got careless. We became entitled and self-satisfied. We created a nation of narcissists.
It's a narcissist that thinks so little about others that he slaughters children.
It's a narcissist that uses 27 dead bodies to win an argument about politics.
And it's a narcissist that looks outward for blame, instead of looking inward and saying "what can I do?"
Do you want to know what you can do to the slow the decay? Do you want to know how best to create a safer environment for your children? Do you want to know how you can best honor the dead?
Be a better person.
Wake up tomorrow and try to be a better person than you were the day before. And the next day, do the same. And the next. And the next.
When you're in a bad mood, don't put it on the people you work and live with.
If you have to talk about politics, stop treating the other side like they are your enemy. They're not evil. They merely have a different opinion. And ask yourself, do you want what is best for everyone, or do you merely want to be right?
Don't demonize the beliefs of others. For the atheists, this should especially be tragic, as those lives are simply gone. For the religious, it is tragic still. And if there is a day when you should want to believe in God and Heaven, this is it.
Be a better friend, a better husband or daughter. Be a better student or a harder worker. I don't know if there is a God or a Heaven, but what I do know is that life is short and precious. All that we have in this world is what we give and put out. How will you be remembered? Did you leave the world a better place than you found it? Or did you selfishly squander the opportunities you had?
Be a better person. Maybe one kind word will stop a kid from jumping off of a bridge. Maybe a positive influence keeps someone off of drugs.
Or maybe it just makes your life more worthwhile. But it's as close to truth as you will ever find.
Friday, December 14, 2012
Wednesday, October 24, 2012
Vacation Playlists and Comics
Tomorrow I am officially off on vacation, heading back where I belong. Walt Disney World, or as I like to call it, home.
As with most people, a lot goes into planning a vacation. Tickets. Packing. Transportation. And of course, the most important part... playlists and comics.
I never go on any trip without first grabbing a couple of trades to read in transit or at night. It's not simply a ritual. It's an absolute necessity.
And music is another absolute must. Whether I'm walking across Walt Disney World, lounging by a pool or waiting on a plane, I have to have music at all times.
So I thought I would share some of my playlists for this trip.
COMICS:
Plane Ride Playlist
As with most people, a lot goes into planning a vacation. Tickets. Packing. Transportation. And of course, the most important part... playlists and comics.
I never go on any trip without first grabbing a couple of trades to read in transit or at night. It's not simply a ritual. It's an absolute necessity.
And music is another absolute must. Whether I'm walking across Walt Disney World, lounging by a pool or waiting on a plane, I have to have music at all times.
So I thought I would share some of my playlists for this trip.
COMICS:
- Starman Omnibus volume 1
- Astonishing X-Men: Unstoppable
- Fables: The Homelands
Plane Ride Playlist
- Watching Airplanes -Gary Allen
- Vienna -Ariana Grande
- I'll Be Coming Home Next Year -Foo Fighters
- Wylclef Jean -Gone til November
- Almost Home -Craig Morgan
- Anything But Mine -Kenny Chesney
- Baggage Claim -Miranda Lambert
- Big Pimpin -Jay Z
- Fly Me to the Moon -Sinatra
- In the Ayer -Flo Rida
- On the Road Again -Willie Nelson
- Hapa Duniani (Animal Kingdom)
- Soarin (Epcot)
- Monorail spiel
- Illuminations (Epcot)
- Muppet Show theme -OK Go
- Man or Muppet -Jason Seigel
- Rainbow Connection -Weezer
- What We Came Here For -Demi Lovato/ Joe Jonas
- Give Your Heart a Break -Demi Lovato
- Love You Like a Love Song -Selena Gomez
- Good Life -OneRepublic
- If You Want Blood- ACDC
- Forever and Almost Always -Kate Voegele
- Angel -Kate Voegele
- I and Love and You -Avett Brothers
- This is Country Music -Brad Paisley
- If That Ain't Country -David Allen Coe
- Suspicion -Elvis
- Suspicious Minds -Elvis
- Drink in My Hand -Eric Church
- Springsteen -Eric Church
- Friends in Low Places -Garth Brooks
- Get Off on the Pain -Gary Allen
- I don't Wanna Be -Gavin De Graw
- Troubadour -George Strait
- Crazy -Cee Lo
- Simple and Clean -Hikaru Utada
- That Lonesome Song -Jamey Johnson
- One More Drinkin Song -Jerrod Neimann
- Raise the Barn -Kieth Urban/ Ronnie Dunn
- Superstar -Lupe Fiasco
- Without Me -Eminem
- Save You -Matthew Perryman Jones
- Me and Mrs Jones -Michael Buble
- Whatever -Our Lady Piece
- Winter -Sister Hazel
- Kristofferson -Tim McGraw
- Are You Sure Hank Done It This Way? -Waylon Jennings
- Rehab -Amy Winehouse
- Just Like Heaven -Liz Gillies
- Lights -Ellie Golding
- The Seashores of Old Mexico
- I Wanna Rock -Twisted Sister
- The Train I'm On -The Farm
- Stay With Me -Miranda Lambert
- Down -Miranda Lambert
Thursday, October 4, 2012
Disney Wishes List
I was listening to a Disney podcast and thinking about my upcoming trip. I thought about all the things I'd done, all the things I wanted to do and all the things I'll probably never get to do. It made me want to put together a Disney Wishes List--- things to do with Disney before you die.
Now these are sorted from least probable, to totally possible.
Now these are sorted from least probable, to totally possible.
- Stay in the Cinderella's Castle Suite. This is honestly never going to happen, but it's at the top of the list. It might seem strange because the room is designed really for little girls. The thing is, my fondest memories of working in the Magic Kingdom were the nights when I had to pick up strollers after the park was closed. All the lights and music were on and it felt like the whole park was there just for me. I'd love to have a whole night like that.
- Tour of Hong Kong Disneyland, Tokyo Disneyland and Tokyo Disney Sea. This is where it gets marginally more possible, but due to money restraints, highly improbable. Disney Sea seems to have very little to do with Disney, but it is marvelous from what I've seen. Even without the Disney, this would be an amazing trip.
- Book an Adventures by Disney trip. Anyone who knows me can tell you that I've always been drawn by adventure. Adv by Disney has a host of trips I would love to take.
- Disney Cruise Line + Walt Disney World. Eventually I will do a Disney Cruise, but here I'm talking about specifically a 7 day cruise- probably to Castaway Cay followed by a week at Disney.
- Dinner at Club 33. The most exclusive restaurant and club in all of Disney. Located above the Pirates of the Caribbean in New Orleans Square at Disneyland, the only way to eat here is if you are a member of Club 33 (and there's a waiting list for that) or if you know a member willing to get you a reservation. Too cool.
- 4 Days at Disneyland, staying at the Big Thunder Mountain Suite. Combine this with #5. Disneyland has gotten more impressive in the last few years. Carsland at the California Adventure has made it all the more of a must do.
- 5 Signature Restaurants. I want to do five of the most exclusive signature restaurants in one trip. No expense too great. Eating like a king.
- Illuminations on the Lagoon. I love Illuminations. Favorite show ever. Did you know you can rent a pontoon boat and watch the show on the water?
- Stay at the Beach Club. Disney has some amazing hotels, but the Yacht and Beach Club is the most exclusive. The Beach Club pools cannot be swam in without a Beach Club resort key.
- La Nuba. Cirque du Soleil has it's own theatre at Downtown Disney. I've never been.
- Stay at Animal Kingdom and do the Safari tour. The AK Lodge and Wilderness Lodge are my two favorite resorts. Never stayed at either. AK Lodge actually offers an early morning tour of the grounds where they keep the animals. Pretty cool.
- Fishing with my Dad. I hate fishing, but my Dad loves it. But there are fishing excursions (catch and release) at Disney. I wouldn't mind a few hours with him on Bay Lake.
Those are my To-Do's. What's on your Wishes list?
Friday, July 20, 2012
The Dark Knight Rises Killer
My website is down, but I wanted to comment on this morning's horrible news in Colorado. I know there will be a lot of voices echoing the same sentiments, but I feel compelled.
I haven't really been all that anxious to see The Dark Knight Rises, so the idea of a midnight showing was laughable. Still, I know a lot of people who were at movie theaters at midnight last night, waiting on pins and needles for the curtain to rise. Thousands of people across the country repeated this scene. Regular folks. People just like me and you who just wanted to see a film about heroes.
In Aurora, Colorado, regular people like you and I walked into a theater to see Batman. But instead of seeing a hero, they saw evil. A young man in his 20's (reportedly named James Holmes) burst in the back door of the theater and started tossing smoke bombs. He then lifted his AK-47 assault rifle and opened fire. The reported death count comes to 14, including a 3 month old baby and a 6 year old. 50 people are injured, with no word of their condition.
The really sad part? At first, the people in the theater thought it was somehow part of the show. They didn't react for a few moments. We've gone so insane as a nation that the lines between reality and fiction have blurred. Had I been there, would my common sense have prevailed? Or would I simply have believed it to be a marketing stunt?
In comics, villains run the gamut from goofy to horrifying, but they never really scare you. We know it's fiction. The Joker isn't real. The Red Skull isn't going to lead a Nazi army into the 21st century. Reality is a lot more terrifying. No one could predict some dirt bag opening fire in a crowded theater. No one could predict that people would leave their houses to see a movie and never come back.
The man holding that military assault rifle is evil.
Part of me wonders if this was a joke to him. Killing people in a movie theatre showing Batman? The symmetry seems planned. And that would make me sadder than anything. I love comics. To see them perverted this way would pain me. I know that's not important in the face of this tragedy, but it bothers me.
Over the next few weeks we're going to see constant reports. We're going to know this evil's face, name, background, sob story and motivation. He'll be infamous, like a real life Joker. But we won't know the names of all the dead an scarred. Maybe one of the women sells insurance. Maybe one is an old man who grew up reading Batman. Many are probably people in their teens and twenties. We won't get to know them. They'll be lost in the sensational story of this monster and the politicians who hope to capitalize on it for their own benefit.
That's the real tragedy.
My thoughts and prayers go out to the people who are gone and the people who have to keep on living with this for the rest of their lives.
Sometimes I wish there really was a Batman to save us. But Superman doesn't exist, and there are no capes for the fallen.
I haven't really been all that anxious to see The Dark Knight Rises, so the idea of a midnight showing was laughable. Still, I know a lot of people who were at movie theaters at midnight last night, waiting on pins and needles for the curtain to rise. Thousands of people across the country repeated this scene. Regular folks. People just like me and you who just wanted to see a film about heroes.
In Aurora, Colorado, regular people like you and I walked into a theater to see Batman. But instead of seeing a hero, they saw evil. A young man in his 20's (reportedly named James Holmes) burst in the back door of the theater and started tossing smoke bombs. He then lifted his AK-47 assault rifle and opened fire. The reported death count comes to 14, including a 3 month old baby and a 6 year old. 50 people are injured, with no word of their condition.
The really sad part? At first, the people in the theater thought it was somehow part of the show. They didn't react for a few moments. We've gone so insane as a nation that the lines between reality and fiction have blurred. Had I been there, would my common sense have prevailed? Or would I simply have believed it to be a marketing stunt?
In comics, villains run the gamut from goofy to horrifying, but they never really scare you. We know it's fiction. The Joker isn't real. The Red Skull isn't going to lead a Nazi army into the 21st century. Reality is a lot more terrifying. No one could predict some dirt bag opening fire in a crowded theater. No one could predict that people would leave their houses to see a movie and never come back.
The man holding that military assault rifle is evil.
Part of me wonders if this was a joke to him. Killing people in a movie theatre showing Batman? The symmetry seems planned. And that would make me sadder than anything. I love comics. To see them perverted this way would pain me. I know that's not important in the face of this tragedy, but it bothers me.
Over the next few weeks we're going to see constant reports. We're going to know this evil's face, name, background, sob story and motivation. He'll be infamous, like a real life Joker. But we won't know the names of all the dead an scarred. Maybe one of the women sells insurance. Maybe one is an old man who grew up reading Batman. Many are probably people in their teens and twenties. We won't get to know them. They'll be lost in the sensational story of this monster and the politicians who hope to capitalize on it for their own benefit.
That's the real tragedy.
My thoughts and prayers go out to the people who are gone and the people who have to keep on living with this for the rest of their lives.
Sometimes I wish there really was a Batman to save us. But Superman doesn't exist, and there are no capes for the fallen.
Wednesday, May 23, 2012
Did I Ask for Your Fucking Opinion?
A few weeks ago I was in Barnes and Noble. I love that place, but I have a really odd relationship with books. I fucking love books. I love reading, mostly because I developed a love of comics as a kid. But for some reason I only read comics in phases. There are periods of time when I'm a voracious reader; then suddenly a switch goes off and I can't pick up a regular book for months. Despite this, I still have a desire to buy books any time I see something I want to read.
I've been listening to a lot of Adam Carolla's podcast lately. Aside from being very funny, I like it because he and I seem to be very similar guys. Granted, he's had a much harder life, has a much stronger drive and is 1000 times more successful. But we do have incredibly similar... thought processes, right down to my shock in hearing that he also has a few symptoms of Asperger's Syndrome. So I went to Barnes and Noble looking for his two books: In Fifty Years We'll All Be Chicks and Not Taco Bell Material.
I went over to the comedy section, spotted In Fifty Years* and picked it up, but didn't see Not Taco Bell Material. I thought it might be under the Auto Biography section, but when I looked it wasn't there either. I went over to the customer service desk and waited. For some reason there's never anyone at the customer service desk at Barnes and Noble, yet I never take the hint. Eventually a very large black girl walks up with that look that they always have when you're at that counter. The look accompanies the words "Can I help you?" and translates it to "The fuck you want?" Judging by her way too tight clothing and speech patterns, I didn't take her for a Love Lines fan, but I try not to assume anything about anyone.
"I'm looking for a book by a guy named Adam Carolla."
"UGH. You not lookin' for that We'll All Be Chicks bullshit, are you?"
And I had two thoughts. First: how the fuck does someone with her obvious charm, wit and class find gainful employment in a book store? Secondly, I was feeling shame. I'm almost never ashamed of my behavior, so I didn't know what to do. I let the first book in my hand sink below the counter for a moment, not wanting her to see it. Then my common sense kicked in. What the fuck business is it of hers what I'm reading? Is she suddenly a $6 an hour consultant for the New Yorker or is she a cashier?
"No. I have that one." I placed it on the table so she could see it. "I'm looking for his other book. I think it had something to do with not liking Taco Bell."
"HMMPH." Ah, yes. "Hmmph." Because she's not allowed to say things like "Oh, you're one of THOSE people." in a work environment. I politely ignored her semi-syllabic jab as I waited for her to finish searching the system for the book. She did find the listing, but the book isn't out yet. I thanked her for help and walked away.
I took a minute to check Facebook on my phone, because apparently I can't go five minutes without finding out if someone has "lol'ed" my status update. While I was doing that, there was a frail looking girl in her 20's manning the check-out counter. But as I started to walk toward her, the customer service bitch went over and told her to take her lunch break. Well... FUCK.
So I put my book down and took out my debit card. But of course she can't resist the chance to once again let me know what the fuck she thinks. "Yeeeeah. Not Taco Bell material, huh? Yeah, I think he's more like Burger King material!"
Now, if you've known me for more than 10 minutes, you know that I'm the kind of asshole his always getting into it with people who can't seem to keep their mouth shut. What you may not know about me is that I don't actually enjoy fighting with people. The unwavering stupidity of humanity just depresses the shit out of me. When I walked into that store, all I wanted to do was buy some books and go about my business. The last thing I needed was ghetto Statler and Waldorf taking out her fat fucking insecurity out on me. And yes, I know that it's the height of hypocrisy for someone like me to criticize someone for their weight. But if I'm "morbidly obese", this chick was "desperately seeking weight watchers". Also? She was a cunt. So fuck her.
What the fuck is with people now where everyone needs to give you their gawdamn opinion on every fucking thing you do? What the fuck happened to minding your own gawdamn business? Yeah, I want to read Adam Carolla's books. So the fuck what? I don't judge her for reading Twilight or the Tracy Morgan autobiography with the prickly end of a hairbrush in her pussy. You get $6 a fucking hour to sell books, not to give me your G.E.D. -backed rendition of Mystery Science Theater 3000. So sell me my damn book and shut the fuck up.
The moral of this story? If you've got snark, shove it up your ass.
I've been listening to a lot of Adam Carolla's podcast lately. Aside from being very funny, I like it because he and I seem to be very similar guys. Granted, he's had a much harder life, has a much stronger drive and is 1000 times more successful. But we do have incredibly similar... thought processes, right down to my shock in hearing that he also has a few symptoms of Asperger's Syndrome. So I went to Barnes and Noble looking for his two books: In Fifty Years We'll All Be Chicks and Not Taco Bell Material.
I went over to the comedy section, spotted In Fifty Years* and picked it up, but didn't see Not Taco Bell Material. I thought it might be under the Auto Biography section, but when I looked it wasn't there either. I went over to the customer service desk and waited. For some reason there's never anyone at the customer service desk at Barnes and Noble, yet I never take the hint. Eventually a very large black girl walks up with that look that they always have when you're at that counter. The look accompanies the words "Can I help you?" and translates it to "The fuck you want?" Judging by her way too tight clothing and speech patterns, I didn't take her for a Love Lines fan, but I try not to assume anything about anyone.
"I'm looking for a book by a guy named Adam Carolla."
"UGH. You not lookin' for that We'll All Be Chicks bullshit, are you?"
And I had two thoughts. First: how the fuck does someone with her obvious charm, wit and class find gainful employment in a book store? Secondly, I was feeling shame. I'm almost never ashamed of my behavior, so I didn't know what to do. I let the first book in my hand sink below the counter for a moment, not wanting her to see it. Then my common sense kicked in. What the fuck business is it of hers what I'm reading? Is she suddenly a $6 an hour consultant for the New Yorker or is she a cashier?
"No. I have that one." I placed it on the table so she could see it. "I'm looking for his other book. I think it had something to do with not liking Taco Bell."
"HMMPH." Ah, yes. "Hmmph." Because she's not allowed to say things like "Oh, you're one of THOSE people." in a work environment. I politely ignored her semi-syllabic jab as I waited for her to finish searching the system for the book. She did find the listing, but the book isn't out yet. I thanked her for help and walked away.
I took a minute to check Facebook on my phone, because apparently I can't go five minutes without finding out if someone has "lol'ed" my status update. While I was doing that, there was a frail looking girl in her 20's manning the check-out counter. But as I started to walk toward her, the customer service bitch went over and told her to take her lunch break. Well... FUCK.
So I put my book down and took out my debit card. But of course she can't resist the chance to once again let me know what the fuck she thinks. "Yeeeeah. Not Taco Bell material, huh? Yeah, I think he's more like Burger King material!"
Now, if you've known me for more than 10 minutes, you know that I'm the kind of asshole his always getting into it with people who can't seem to keep their mouth shut. What you may not know about me is that I don't actually enjoy fighting with people. The unwavering stupidity of humanity just depresses the shit out of me. When I walked into that store, all I wanted to do was buy some books and go about my business. The last thing I needed was ghetto Statler and Waldorf taking out her fat fucking insecurity out on me. And yes, I know that it's the height of hypocrisy for someone like me to criticize someone for their weight. But if I'm "morbidly obese", this chick was "desperately seeking weight watchers". Also? She was a cunt. So fuck her.
What the fuck is with people now where everyone needs to give you their gawdamn opinion on every fucking thing you do? What the fuck happened to minding your own gawdamn business? Yeah, I want to read Adam Carolla's books. So the fuck what? I don't judge her for reading Twilight or the Tracy Morgan autobiography with the prickly end of a hairbrush in her pussy. You get $6 a fucking hour to sell books, not to give me your G.E.D. -backed rendition of Mystery Science Theater 3000. So sell me my damn book and shut the fuck up.
The moral of this story? If you've got snark, shove it up your ass.
Monday, May 7, 2012
Math
Of our entire solar system and known space, an area so broad that you couldn't properly conceive of the distance even were you to see it expressed mathematically, only one planet currently sustains life forms.
On that planet, an unseen and unimaginable force caused thousands of species to sprout from nothing into existence over the course of billions of years.
Of those thousands of species, one has managed to become dominant, not through the act of breeding, but by sheer luck of evolutionary favorability.
This species evolved intellectually to the point where it has conceived of imaginary existences and fictional worlds that can be projected on screens, built constructs that operate themselves, artificially given itself the ability to fly and even created magic devices that remember thoughts and talk to all points on the planet at any given time.
Every sentence above is a miracle so mathematically improbable, so intellectually unfathomable that we cannot conceive of words to properly express them.
Yet 99% of people will never know nor appreciate this fact.
On that planet, an unseen and unimaginable force caused thousands of species to sprout from nothing into existence over the course of billions of years.
Of those thousands of species, one has managed to become dominant, not through the act of breeding, but by sheer luck of evolutionary favorability.
This species evolved intellectually to the point where it has conceived of imaginary existences and fictional worlds that can be projected on screens, built constructs that operate themselves, artificially given itself the ability to fly and even created magic devices that remember thoughts and talk to all points on the planet at any given time.
Every sentence above is a miracle so mathematically improbable, so intellectually unfathomable that we cannot conceive of words to properly express them.
Yet 99% of people will never know nor appreciate this fact.
Thursday, April 26, 2012
CRITICAL MASS
My brother decided the other day that he doesn't want to be on the family cell phone plan with me and my Dad. This isn't the first time he has made that decision, but that's another story.
We're on AT&T Wireless. My brother and I both have iPhones and I pay my old man's bill for his cheapo because otherwise he just wouldn't get a phone. There's no real reason to separate the lines, but whatever. He can do what he wants.
So I went down to AT&T and explained the situation. The woman behind the counter says "okay, we just need to run your credit." Excuse me?
Apparently this is a thing that cell phone companies do now. They run your fucking credit so that you can get a fucking phone. They run. Your fucking credit. So that you can get a fucking phone.
And that is where I snapped.
I think we've finally done it. We've reached a point in this country where the level stupidity has reached critical mass and I'm not sure we can come back from the brink.
Now, you may be thinking I'm over-reacting. I get it. People don't pay their cell phone bills. People have become so entitled that their first response to debt is "fuck it, I'm just not gonna pay it." People used to tighten their belt and do what needed to be done. Now they think it's someone else's problem. I understand that concept. I understand that these companies need to protect themselves. It's still fucking stupid.
I will be 33 years old this year. I have paid my own cell phone bill since I was 22 (only had one for a year before that). I was at Sprint for something like 7 years before their incompetence led me to leave. I've been with AT&T for the past 3 years. I have never not paid the bill. Sure, sometimes it's late, but only by a few days. That's there in their system. I'm not getting a new line of service. I'm not even getting a new phone. They want to run my credit and probably start a new 2 year contract (I've passed the contract date) so that I can qualify for a cell phone line I already have.
I couldn't make shit like that up. The really fucked up thing is that I don't know how good my credit is. I may not qualify for the cell phone I already have and have been paying for over the last 3 years.
Now tell me I'm over-reacting.
Since my contract is up, I was planning to wait until the iPhone 5 comes out later this year and possibly switch to -funny enough- Sprint. But since AT&T is fucking me, I'm going to talk to them this weekend. I realize they would probably run my credit and make me sign a new contract, but you know what? FUCK AT&T. This is what you do to good customers? This is how the fuck you repay loyalty? FUCK YOU AT&T. I'd rather pay more someone else than deal with you.
------------------------
Now that you've heard today's rant, I need some input. I've been wanting to do a podcast for a few years now. I've been trying to figure out what it should be.
I have two ideas right now.
1. Critical Mass - a discussion on how ridiculous we have become. I would discuss the stupidest news stories I can find and rant about it.
2. Storytime with Uncle Reb -I would invite guests on to tell stories about themselves. People are fascinating. Let's get to know them.
Which of these podcasts would you rather listen to?
Friday, April 13, 2012
And You May Ask Yourself, This Is Not My Beautiful Wife...
I feel like shit.
In retrospect, going back to Orlando for 4 days may have been a mistake. I had an amazing time. It was fantastic and I am as in love with that place as I ever was. Maybe more so. But also, I felt better out there. My feet hurt from the hours of walking and I was tired, but I felt so much better. I had energy. I felt alive and excited. I just wanted to keep going. And when it was time to leave, I was incredibly disappointed.
Ever since I've been back, it feels like I've been run over with a truck. It could be psycho-somatic. But the reality is that New Orleans isn't the most hospitable environment. There is literally something in the air. The humidity is daunting (though to be fair, the last few days haven't been all that humid). It's rough. I would fair better in almost any other part of the country. This isn't an epiphany. I know this. But it's been so long since I've sat and thought about it after a long trip, that I had forgotten how rough it is on me.
The fact is that New Orleans does not agree with me.
I'm in an odd position in my life. I don't really hate my life. I actually mostly like it. My jobs are fine. I like my friends. I'm not stuck at home watching tv every night. Aside from the constant worry of my finances, things are going well.
But man... this place. I need to get out of here.
Tuesday, March 6, 2012
Should I Stay or Should I Go?
A few years back, I started blogs. Three of them.
http://rebelcomix.com was intended to be the website for the comic shop I wanted to start. I thought Rebel Comics was a good name for a store. Unfortunately, the market is so screwed up that I no longer believe comics are a sane business venture. So the site has become just another blog with no end goal.
http://exdcp.com was where I intended to post my stories from Disney as well as my thoughts in general on the subject. Unfortunately I never kept up with it and finally just let the site die last year.
http://URNasshole.com ...I bought this domain simply because it's an awesome name. I have ideas for things to do with it, but so far haven't done anything with it. I've been considering letting this one die as well.
Now all these blogs have existed due to a friend lending me a hand. Actually, that's putting it lightly. Baker let me put my blogs on his servers and there they've sat for quite a while now. I've never given him more than a "thank you", which says quite a bit about his generosity. Come to think of it; that says some very unflattering things about me as well.
Well now things have changed. Due to rising costs, he needs to charge me for being on his servers. DON'T MISUNDERSTAND. I'm not complaining about having to pay. Certainly, I owe him that. The fact is, had I the money to do so, I would have started paying him a long time ago. Sadly, it doesn't look like any of the sites will ever turn a profit.
I still post on Rebelcomix.com. However, most of my writing these days goes to BSIcomics.com, where I'm an unofficial employee. Rebelcomix has become the place I say things that others might regard as controversial. I'm not the most motivated person, so juggling multiple balls isn't going very well. I'm going to pay him for the rest of the year. But after that, I'm wondering if I should just let the sites all die. I have this blogspot site to discuss all my non-comic opinions. I suppose this could be all encompassing. Part of the reason I haven't done that is because I discuss political opinions here and I wanted to keep that far away from my comic posts unless it's directly related to comics.
I don't know what I'm going to do. Thoughts?
http://rebelcomix.com was intended to be the website for the comic shop I wanted to start. I thought Rebel Comics was a good name for a store. Unfortunately, the market is so screwed up that I no longer believe comics are a sane business venture. So the site has become just another blog with no end goal.
http://exdcp.com was where I intended to post my stories from Disney as well as my thoughts in general on the subject. Unfortunately I never kept up with it and finally just let the site die last year.
http://URNasshole.com ...I bought this domain simply because it's an awesome name. I have ideas for things to do with it, but so far haven't done anything with it. I've been considering letting this one die as well.
Now all these blogs have existed due to a friend lending me a hand. Actually, that's putting it lightly. Baker let me put my blogs on his servers and there they've sat for quite a while now. I've never given him more than a "thank you", which says quite a bit about his generosity. Come to think of it; that says some very unflattering things about me as well.
Well now things have changed. Due to rising costs, he needs to charge me for being on his servers. DON'T MISUNDERSTAND. I'm not complaining about having to pay. Certainly, I owe him that. The fact is, had I the money to do so, I would have started paying him a long time ago. Sadly, it doesn't look like any of the sites will ever turn a profit.
I still post on Rebelcomix.com. However, most of my writing these days goes to BSIcomics.com, where I'm an unofficial employee. Rebelcomix has become the place I say things that others might regard as controversial. I'm not the most motivated person, so juggling multiple balls isn't going very well. I'm going to pay him for the rest of the year. But after that, I'm wondering if I should just let the sites all die. I have this blogspot site to discuss all my non-comic opinions. I suppose this could be all encompassing. Part of the reason I haven't done that is because I discuss political opinions here and I wanted to keep that far away from my comic posts unless it's directly related to comics.
I don't know what I'm going to do. Thoughts?
Friday, January 6, 2012
Traditions 2011
I have a tradition that I've been doing for about 10 years.
At the end of every year I reflect on the past year; all the things I've accomplished and failed. Then I look at what I want to improve and focus on for the next year. Occasionally someone will point out that this is a New Year's Resolution. Well, at the risk of arguing semantics, it isn't. It's nothing structured like "eat less and go to the gym more". It's less about creating goals than it is focusing on the future. Shit, maybe it is just semantics. Ignore all that.
Originally I would embark on this tradition with a friend. I would go with whoever was interested to the lakefront with some kind of drink and we would discuss the past and the future. It quickly became difficult to find someone to go with me, so I took it online. Blogging the tradition made it easier to reflect on the past, because it allowed me to see exactly what I was supposed to be focusing on over the year and if I actually did it. Unfortunately, I think the 2010 blog is on a defunct website and therefor gone.
So anyway, 2011...
Man, this was a strange year for me. (Yes, I know it's technically 2012. Let's pretend I'm more timely.)
It started off very well. I got a new car. I booked a cruise. Got a second job which allowed me more financial freedom. Of course I lost that job over a very silly reason. I've been floundering financially ever since and the replacement job was a disaster which I had to quit. I'd taken out a loan to buy a new camera and ended up both without the camera and worse off financially.
I went back to Disney for 3 days in February. This was a big deal for me. I spend a lot of days listening to Sorcerer Radio or Mouseworld Radio; it gets me through the day. I hadn't been in Orlando since I left in early 2009. I've been longing for it since. Florida is the only place I've ever been really happy. I made a lot of mistakes in 2009, but the decision to move there is not among them. I just went about it wrong.
I sort of work for BSI Comics now, at least honorarily. I suspect Jason only gave the job because he took pity on me. Still, I feel honored. I love that place and I feel obliged to do anything I can to help it succeed. It's also nice to be able to put it on my resume.
I've also taken positive steps forward on my photography. Steps, not leaps. I'm only now starting to understand how much work I have ahead of me. The science of it takes a lot of work. I've always been a poor student when it comes to math and science. The art is the part that I love. Photography is fun for me. I get excited thinking about all the shots I'm going to take at a party or event. And when I see something that would make an amazing photograph, I feel obliged to stop everything so I can get it.
I didn't write much this year. My websites have had constant issues. Oftentimes they've been down. I finally let EXDCP expire. I wasn't posting on it. I often question my ability and desire as a writer. I love being a writer, but I just don't have the drive to be a great one.
2011 was a great year socially. I have a lot of really great friends. In fact, I don't know that I've ever had a time in my life when I was blessed with so many good friends. Maybe the College Program, but that was a very short time. There was no girlfriend in all this, but that's okay. In fact, that's great. I don't really want a girl right now. Sure, there are times when a lady would be convenient, but I don't want a relationship. I just want to have fun and live my life. There's time for love later.
For 2012...
I need to think more about the future and not the moment.
I know some of what I want. Figuring out how to get there is the big question. How do I become a better photographer? How do I fix my finances? How do I move to Orlando?
I need to work harder on the math when it comes to the photography. And I'm going to have to shoot more. I also need to get a copy of photoshop.
I need to decide if I need a new primary job. I like it here, but it's not getting me anywhere. And it reinforces the need for a second job.
Living in Orlando is still a ways off. But this is my 10 year anniversary for my College Program. I am working on a Reunion, but it isn't going very well. Nevertheless I will be there this year and it's going to be great. And it's time I worked on the book again. 10 years is long enough. I need to finish it.
I should probably work on being a better person though. I've been thinking a lot about who I've been and how I've been. Not much of it is flattering. I'm not sure this is the legacy I want to leave behind.
So I guess that's it. Here's to 2012. May it be the best year yet.
At the end of every year I reflect on the past year; all the things I've accomplished and failed. Then I look at what I want to improve and focus on for the next year. Occasionally someone will point out that this is a New Year's Resolution. Well, at the risk of arguing semantics, it isn't. It's nothing structured like "eat less and go to the gym more". It's less about creating goals than it is focusing on the future. Shit, maybe it is just semantics. Ignore all that.
Originally I would embark on this tradition with a friend. I would go with whoever was interested to the lakefront with some kind of drink and we would discuss the past and the future. It quickly became difficult to find someone to go with me, so I took it online. Blogging the tradition made it easier to reflect on the past, because it allowed me to see exactly what I was supposed to be focusing on over the year and if I actually did it. Unfortunately, I think the 2010 blog is on a defunct website and therefor gone.
So anyway, 2011...
Man, this was a strange year for me. (Yes, I know it's technically 2012. Let's pretend I'm more timely.)
It started off very well. I got a new car. I booked a cruise. Got a second job which allowed me more financial freedom. Of course I lost that job over a very silly reason. I've been floundering financially ever since and the replacement job was a disaster which I had to quit. I'd taken out a loan to buy a new camera and ended up both without the camera and worse off financially.
I went back to Disney for 3 days in February. This was a big deal for me. I spend a lot of days listening to Sorcerer Radio or Mouseworld Radio; it gets me through the day. I hadn't been in Orlando since I left in early 2009. I've been longing for it since. Florida is the only place I've ever been really happy. I made a lot of mistakes in 2009, but the decision to move there is not among them. I just went about it wrong.
I sort of work for BSI Comics now, at least honorarily. I suspect Jason only gave the job because he took pity on me. Still, I feel honored. I love that place and I feel obliged to do anything I can to help it succeed. It's also nice to be able to put it on my resume.
I've also taken positive steps forward on my photography. Steps, not leaps. I'm only now starting to understand how much work I have ahead of me. The science of it takes a lot of work. I've always been a poor student when it comes to math and science. The art is the part that I love. Photography is fun for me. I get excited thinking about all the shots I'm going to take at a party or event. And when I see something that would make an amazing photograph, I feel obliged to stop everything so I can get it.
I didn't write much this year. My websites have had constant issues. Oftentimes they've been down. I finally let EXDCP expire. I wasn't posting on it. I often question my ability and desire as a writer. I love being a writer, but I just don't have the drive to be a great one.
2011 was a great year socially. I have a lot of really great friends. In fact, I don't know that I've ever had a time in my life when I was blessed with so many good friends. Maybe the College Program, but that was a very short time. There was no girlfriend in all this, but that's okay. In fact, that's great. I don't really want a girl right now. Sure, there are times when a lady would be convenient, but I don't want a relationship. I just want to have fun and live my life. There's time for love later.
For 2012...
I need to think more about the future and not the moment.
I know some of what I want. Figuring out how to get there is the big question. How do I become a better photographer? How do I fix my finances? How do I move to Orlando?
I need to work harder on the math when it comes to the photography. And I'm going to have to shoot more. I also need to get a copy of photoshop.
I need to decide if I need a new primary job. I like it here, but it's not getting me anywhere. And it reinforces the need for a second job.
Living in Orlando is still a ways off. But this is my 10 year anniversary for my College Program. I am working on a Reunion, but it isn't going very well. Nevertheless I will be there this year and it's going to be great. And it's time I worked on the book again. 10 years is long enough. I need to finish it.
I should probably work on being a better person though. I've been thinking a lot about who I've been and how I've been. Not much of it is flattering. I'm not sure this is the legacy I want to leave behind.
So I guess that's it. Here's to 2012. May it be the best year yet.
Monday, December 26, 2011
Am I Naked? Because I Think I'm Having a Nightmare.
So I started a new job. Or third job. I sort of work at a local comics shop, helping with promotions and working on the website, handling content. That doesn't pay though. It's just a resume enhancer (plus occasionally getting to read things for free).
I lost my job delivering in September and that threw everything out of whack. Since then I'd been living off of money that I'd borrowed months before.
I was pretty much down to the wire when I got a job. I'm doing delivery for a restaurant. One of the owners was kind enough to speak to me for a few minutes when I walked in the door. A week later the GM called to tell me I was hired. Bare in mind there was no interview. The guy talked to me informally, but I didn't have the time or forethought to ask basic questions which I now know I should have.
The thing is, I'm super neurotic. New jobs tend to highlight this aspect. I get into a blind panic. "What am I doing? I can't wash dishes? What if I fuck up?? What if I accidentally set the kitchen on fire??" You get the idea. Mostly this is retarded. But sometimes you just know? You know what I mean? Sometimes you know something is not right, that it won't work out. Sometimes YOU JUST KNOW.
I'd had this feeling of dread all week. It started with the day I went in for "orientation". I couldn't help but wonder what you need to orient a driver to. I spent half an hour trying to learn their computer system, which wasn't even set up properly. The rest I spent rolling to-go forks into napkins.
This did not help the dread.
It got progressively worse as I waited on my first shift Friday.
I won't go into all the details, because it would take too long. But make no mistake, there is a long list of signs from the Universe not included here that scream GET. OUT.
I was being trained by the host. He's the poor guy that gets stuck making deliveries when they dont have a driver... which is ALL THE TIME. See they only want me on Friday and Saturday. Those are the only days when they have enough deliveries to support a driver. Why? Well, I asked someone if I was the only driver. His response was "Oh yeah. You might not even have any deliveries." Umm. Excuse me? "Well you might have 2... or 4... or even 8." Interesting fact: if you deliver for a living, 10-15 orders is a decent night. Any less than 10, especially on a weekend, is a SHIT night.
I quickly got the impression that these people were inadvertently telling me things I was not supposed to know this early in the game. This restaurant has not existed more than a year at this location (the main branch still exists downtown) but apparently they've gone through drivers before. That's "drivers", plural. They can't keep a driver because they aren't set up as a delivery business. This is a restaurant. They don't really know how to run deliveries as a formal business. In my first 3 to 5 hours, I ran down a list of things that need to be done differently if they want to have a thriving delivery business. Were I hired to do so, which I am not, I could advise them to that end.
Now all this sounds like typical "this isn't the job for me" shit, right? Hardly a "nightmare" as I described it. But that is where you would be wrong, my friends.
I had 5 deliveries that night. It was about the time I was waiting on my first one that I was following my trainer to the kitchen. As we walked, my peripheral vision spotted something that made my brain say "Hey, pay attention asshole. Something massive is about to fuck you in the ass." YOu ever wake up one day and realize you're a fucking loser who delivers pizza for one of the popular kids you went to high school with? YEAH. THAT.
Let's call her Ginger.
GInger was the Queen Bee in my class. And by "Bee", I mean "Bitch". A lot of people disliked her. To be fair, no one liked anyone in my high school. It was like if Rwanda was filled with assholes who drove Camaros and fought with humiliation bombs. And instead of burning children, got really drunk. I'm not good at analogies.
ANyway, I never had a problem with Ginger. She went her way, I went mine. Never the 'tween shall meet. UNtil Senior year when we had a class together and I developed a... crush isn't the word. I developed a desire to be inside her. Too subtle? I wanted her to be on top of me imitating Charo yelling "Coochie Coochie!" ... let's just move on, shall we. This infatuation never went anywhere. Had I been a normal teenager, we'd have gone to separate colleges and moved on with our lives. This did not happen. See I used to be an artist of some sort. Senior year I took pictures of various classmates and drew illustrations of them. She was one.
Now cut to 15 years later. Life hasn't turned out the way I thought it would. I mean, I didn't get run over by a bus. I'm no longer a virgin... so that's good. I never really felt like a loser when I delivered pizza. I mean, I knew it was a shitty job, but I made money and it was fun. And then it wasn't fun, but I still made money. But here I am pumping gas for one of the rich kids from High School. I can't tell you the kind of blind panic that hit me when I realized this. It was like being struck down by Zeus' lightning bolt or face-fucked by Satan's cock. I was half considering setting myself on fire and running out of the building screaming "I HAVE MONKEY A.I.D.S! RUN!" just to escape.
It's not even like I hate this girl. It's not about HER. I just can't take the humiliation of having such a menial job in her employment. She left before we were forced to speak, thankfully. But I'm sure she knew who I was. My name is far too unusual for someone who knew me for 5 years to forget. She had to recognize it. UGH.
Oh, and to top it all off, I think one of the dudes hit on me. Actually, that was a highlight of the night. I mean, I'm not interested, but it's flattering. But with my luck it couldn't be a vaginal american.
So I don't know what to do. I need a job. But I need to make money at that job. And I don't want to feel like a loser, even if I am one. What sucks is, I actually liked the people I met. Under more profitable circumstances, they would be a fun group to work with.
...I don't know.
I lost my job delivering in September and that threw everything out of whack. Since then I'd been living off of money that I'd borrowed months before.
I was pretty much down to the wire when I got a job. I'm doing delivery for a restaurant. One of the owners was kind enough to speak to me for a few minutes when I walked in the door. A week later the GM called to tell me I was hired. Bare in mind there was no interview. The guy talked to me informally, but I didn't have the time or forethought to ask basic questions which I now know I should have.
The thing is, I'm super neurotic. New jobs tend to highlight this aspect. I get into a blind panic. "What am I doing? I can't wash dishes? What if I fuck up?? What if I accidentally set the kitchen on fire??" You get the idea. Mostly this is retarded. But sometimes you just know? You know what I mean? Sometimes you know something is not right, that it won't work out. Sometimes YOU JUST KNOW.
I'd had this feeling of dread all week. It started with the day I went in for "orientation". I couldn't help but wonder what you need to orient a driver to. I spent half an hour trying to learn their computer system, which wasn't even set up properly. The rest I spent rolling to-go forks into napkins.
This did not help the dread.
It got progressively worse as I waited on my first shift Friday.
I won't go into all the details, because it would take too long. But make no mistake, there is a long list of signs from the Universe not included here that scream GET. OUT.
I was being trained by the host. He's the poor guy that gets stuck making deliveries when they dont have a driver... which is ALL THE TIME. See they only want me on Friday and Saturday. Those are the only days when they have enough deliveries to support a driver. Why? Well, I asked someone if I was the only driver. His response was "Oh yeah. You might not even have any deliveries." Umm. Excuse me? "Well you might have 2... or 4... or even 8." Interesting fact: if you deliver for a living, 10-15 orders is a decent night. Any less than 10, especially on a weekend, is a SHIT night.
I quickly got the impression that these people were inadvertently telling me things I was not supposed to know this early in the game. This restaurant has not existed more than a year at this location (the main branch still exists downtown) but apparently they've gone through drivers before. That's "drivers", plural. They can't keep a driver because they aren't set up as a delivery business. This is a restaurant. They don't really know how to run deliveries as a formal business. In my first 3 to 5 hours, I ran down a list of things that need to be done differently if they want to have a thriving delivery business. Were I hired to do so, which I am not, I could advise them to that end.
Now all this sounds like typical "this isn't the job for me" shit, right? Hardly a "nightmare" as I described it. But that is where you would be wrong, my friends.
I had 5 deliveries that night. It was about the time I was waiting on my first one that I was following my trainer to the kitchen. As we walked, my peripheral vision spotted something that made my brain say "Hey, pay attention asshole. Something massive is about to fuck you in the ass." YOu ever wake up one day and realize you're a fucking loser who delivers pizza for one of the popular kids you went to high school with? YEAH. THAT.
Let's call her Ginger.
GInger was the Queen Bee in my class. And by "Bee", I mean "Bitch". A lot of people disliked her. To be fair, no one liked anyone in my high school. It was like if Rwanda was filled with assholes who drove Camaros and fought with humiliation bombs. And instead of burning children, got really drunk. I'm not good at analogies.
ANyway, I never had a problem with Ginger. She went her way, I went mine. Never the 'tween shall meet. UNtil Senior year when we had a class together and I developed a... crush isn't the word. I developed a desire to be inside her. Too subtle? I wanted her to be on top of me imitating Charo yelling "Coochie Coochie!" ... let's just move on, shall we. This infatuation never went anywhere. Had I been a normal teenager, we'd have gone to separate colleges and moved on with our lives. This did not happen. See I used to be an artist of some sort. Senior year I took pictures of various classmates and drew illustrations of them. She was one.
Now cut to 15 years later. Life hasn't turned out the way I thought it would. I mean, I didn't get run over by a bus. I'm no longer a virgin... so that's good. I never really felt like a loser when I delivered pizza. I mean, I knew it was a shitty job, but I made money and it was fun. And then it wasn't fun, but I still made money. But here I am pumping gas for one of the rich kids from High School. I can't tell you the kind of blind panic that hit me when I realized this. It was like being struck down by Zeus' lightning bolt or face-fucked by Satan's cock. I was half considering setting myself on fire and running out of the building screaming "I HAVE MONKEY A.I.D.S! RUN!" just to escape.
It's not even like I hate this girl. It's not about HER. I just can't take the humiliation of having such a menial job in her employment. She left before we were forced to speak, thankfully. But I'm sure she knew who I was. My name is far too unusual for someone who knew me for 5 years to forget. She had to recognize it. UGH.
Oh, and to top it all off, I think one of the dudes hit on me. Actually, that was a highlight of the night. I mean, I'm not interested, but it's flattering. But with my luck it couldn't be a vaginal american.
So I don't know what to do. I need a job. But I need to make money at that job. And I don't want to feel like a loser, even if I am one. What sucks is, I actually liked the people I met. Under more profitable circumstances, they would be a fun group to work with.
...I don't know.
Friday, December 16, 2011
Even Magic Needs Help
I was reading the Magic Blogorail today. 4 Bloggers each made a list of things they'd love to see updated at Walt Disney World. I've been really sentimental about Disney lately and I don't know why. Maybe it's because I've only been there once in the last 2 years, and then only for 3 days. Or maybe it's because I want so badly to move on from this life and that was where I was happiest. Anyway, I thought I would play along.
(Some of these are the same attractions the blog posters mentioned.)
Magic Kingdom: Tomorrowland Speedway needs to be fixed. I've ridden it a few times. It's not just that it's boring (it kind of is). The ride isn't even all that well done. The actual ride should be smooth instead of bumping along the track to simulate driving (which it does not). Call VW and maybe create something based on Herbie The Love Bug.
I'd also like to see a Muppet presence. Maybe you could have Electric Mayhem playing Muppet songs. Or something involving the Muppet Babies.
EPCOT: I think the Land &; the Seas both need work. Soarin and Turtle Talk with Crush are both amazing, but a lot of the other attractions feel like they're lost in time. Keep the educational themes, but spruce them up. Also--- Captain EO is terrible. TERRIBLE. As much as I love Honey I Shrunk the Audience, I understand that most kids don't know that movie anymore. But did they have to put this up? Give Michael Jackson's music a pavilion somewhere, but please please please replace Captain EO.
Hollywood Studios: I think I heard they were ending the Backlot Tour. It's been a joke for years, so that's good. That frees up a lot of space. They could use it to give Narnia a proper attraction. Who wouldn't want to walk through a wardrobe into a magical Winter kingdom? Do it justice, unlike the previous attraction.
They're finally taking down Sounds Dangerous. I'd really like to see something The Incredibles here. This is one of Pixar's best movies and it's been absent in attraction form this entire time. And even though I know many would regard it as a Potter rip-off (and it isn't an unfair comparison), Disney could put in a Percy Jackson ride/ attraction. They publish the books.
Animal Kingdom: I kind of wish they would do a new version of Tapestry of Dreams here.
What I would most like to see is The Indiana Jones Adventure. I understand that Disney wants Disneyland to have certain exclusive attractions, but IJA is one of the best things Disney has ever done. It sucks that you have to go to California to see it, because WDW will always win out on my Disney vacations. I'm too poor to do both.
I'm sure there's more if I think about it, but I wanted to keep the list simple.
(Some of these are the same attractions the blog posters mentioned.)
I'd also like to see a Muppet presence. Maybe you could have Electric Mayhem playing Muppet songs. Or something involving the Muppet Babies.
EPCOT: I think the Land &; the Seas both need work. Soarin and Turtle Talk with Crush are both amazing, but a lot of the other attractions feel like they're lost in time. Keep the educational themes, but spruce them up. Also--- Captain EO is terrible. TERRIBLE. As much as I love Honey I Shrunk the Audience, I understand that most kids don't know that movie anymore. But did they have to put this up? Give Michael Jackson's music a pavilion somewhere, but please please please replace Captain EO.
Hollywood Studios: I think I heard they were ending the Backlot Tour. It's been a joke for years, so that's good. That frees up a lot of space. They could use it to give Narnia a proper attraction. Who wouldn't want to walk through a wardrobe into a magical Winter kingdom? Do it justice, unlike the previous attraction.
They're finally taking down Sounds Dangerous. I'd really like to see something The Incredibles here. This is one of Pixar's best movies and it's been absent in attraction form this entire time. And even though I know many would regard it as a Potter rip-off (and it isn't an unfair comparison), Disney could put in a Percy Jackson ride/ attraction. They publish the books.
Animal Kingdom: I kind of wish they would do a new version of Tapestry of Dreams here.
What I would most like to see is The Indiana Jones Adventure. I understand that Disney wants Disneyland to have certain exclusive attractions, but IJA is one of the best things Disney has ever done. It sucks that you have to go to California to see it, because WDW will always win out on my Disney vacations. I'm too poor to do both.
I'm sure there's more if I think about it, but I wanted to keep the list simple.
Thursday, December 15, 2011
If I Could Grow Wings
For him it was a desire to be competent in all endeavors and a need for freedom. That is to say, a life that isn't scheduled.
I thought about it for a moment. I'd never really tried to figure out what desire drives me. And I suppose it's freedom too, in a way. I hate sitting still in one place. It makes me feel trapped. I can't stand just sitting at home. I always want to be out and elsewhere. When I think about the happiest times in my life, they're all vacations. They're me out in the world.
I am a nomad by nature.
I just want to travel all the time. Cars, motorcycles, trains and planes. I want to see the world in all it's shapes and forms. I want to fly.
You meet these people whose job it is to travel cross-country all the time and they claim to hate it. I could see that if I had a wife or children. I don't. I'd love a job like that.
I'm not sure I'll ever be happy tied to one place.
Tuesday, December 13, 2011
short story: Take Me Down
I decided on a Tuesday morning. I was so excited I ran all the way to school to tell him. But for some reason, when I got there, I couldn't tell him. This wasn't something you just blurt out. This was important. It had to be introduced with grace. At the right time. In the right place.
So I told him at lunch in the cafeteria. Between bites of my cherry pop tart, as he drew smiley faces in his mashed potatoes, I told Brian his destiny. "I've decided to seduce you." He managed to look up from his mashed potatoes after that. "wh--- huhhh--- what?" No matter how it seems, Brian wasn't stupid. Far from it. He was just... a boy. And boys are just slow on the uptake when it comes to sex. Fact of life, I suppose.
But in every other way, he was just... rad. Stupendous. Perpendicular. (It makes sense because I say so; sue me.) He liked Tori Amos and Indiana Jones. If you asked him whether he likes chocolate or vanilla he would say "Rocky road." And most importantly, he was the only one who would jump off the big tree in the creek with me. How can you not adore the boy who jumps with you? And the best part was, he was still a hidden jem. No one else looked beyond the skinny boy with the thatch of brown tangled hair and chest freckles. No one but me. I looked into those baby blues all the time. Brian had kind eyes. He was the kind of boy that other girls ignore until they're old and worn out and ready to settle down. And then they spend the rest of their hag years bitching about how "all the good ones are either gay or taken". Because they just assumed that boys like Brian would remain boys and wait for them. Except they don't they grow into men. And guess what bitches? You ain't the only game in town with a push-up bra and a pair of legs.
I hate girls like that, and even then I was determined not to be one. I was alway mature for my age, you know? Daddy always said I was "too big fer my britches." He's old. He says things like that. So, anyway... I basically told the boy that I own him. Not that I needed to tell him that.
Do I have any choice in the matter?
Hmmmmm... no. No I'm going to seduce you.
I see. Why exactly?
Because I don't want one of these skeezy girls taking your virginity from you. You need a girl with talent and experience to guide you into manhood.
Layla... you're a virgin too.
... I meant EMOTIONAL experience. Like... maturity, you know.
God, I was full of shit as a kid. I was too proud to admit that I wanted HIM to make ME a woman. I mean, I wasn't in love with Brian, buuuuuttt... I knew sex would be an issue soon. I'd heard all these horror stories from my older sister and her friends about their first times. I really didn't want to lose my virginity while crying in the back of a Volkswagon. Brian was my best friend. I knew he would be gentle and loving. And somehow I knew it was important that we experience this together. All these years later, I can honestly say I was right. And I have no regrets about that.
Sooooo... how are you planning to seduce me.
Oh, that's easy. Like this: come to my house after 11 and I'll fuck you.
That... that's it? That's how you seduce me?
Is your dick hard?
...
See? You're seduced. You're welcome.
Eleven o'clock on the dot, there was a knock at my window. I opened it so he could come through. Unfortunately, as nervous as he was, he tripped on the window sill and fell to the ground with a loud thud. It's a miracle my Dad didn't burst through the door and kill him. But I had my music on pretty loud. I put on my Cranberries CD, both to muffle the sounds of our awkward humping, and to set the mood. No Need to Argue was depressing, but mellow. We were both a twitching bundle of nerves ready to snap at the slightest thing. Mellow was goooooood.
I... uhhh... I stole a condom from my Dad. Should.... should I put it on?
Umm.... no. Not yet. I got my sister to buy us some peppermint schnapps. Wanna drink?
Uhhh... yeah. Sounds like a plan.
We laid back on my bed like two kids having a sleepover, not even touching. We drank and passed back and forth until the bottle was nearly empty. And then the strangest thing happened. We stopped thinking. He looked at me with those blues and I melted. I just knew he was going to kiss me, and I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything before. Boys don't ever seem to know how important the kiss is to a girl... well... this one did. I still have dreams about that kiss. Maybe it was the schnapps. Maybe it was his technique. Or maybe it was just the feeling of being with the boy you're meant to be with. Whatever it was, he was an amazing kisser.
My eyes were still shut tight as I melted into him, when he broke the kiss and started to undress me. Nothing was like I expected. He didn't try to rip anything off or fumble with my bra; he took his time. And as each article of clothing fell to my floor, he kissed me all over. On my neck... my breasts... my belly button... my legs... and eventually my pussy. When he was done giving me the tonguing of a lifetime, Brian looked up at me quizzically. I nodded nervously, and he smiled.
Brian knelt beside me and started taking his own clothes off. It freaked me out a little when he removed his pants, and with good reason as it turned out. Brian may not have had a whole lot of upper body strength back then, but as it turned out, all his muscle mass was in his third arm. Woof. It was pretty stupid, but I didn't make him wear the condom. I didn't care. Those moments were magic. Sure, at first, when he pushed in and broke my cherry it hurt. And it was awkward. His stroke wasn't nearly as nice as his tongue... but... there was something about being there with this boy inside me. Yeah, magic. That's what it was. Because for all his inexperience, that was among the best sex I've ever had. I still get tingles thinking about his big dick thrusting inside of me. I cried as I held onto him for hear life, and he kissed my tears away. I'll never forget, just as I started to cum, he said "I'm so glad it's you, Layla. It's always been you."
When it was over, I didn't want to risk cuddling and getting caught, so I sort of kicked him out. I did, however keep his underwear as a trophy.
The next day I told Brian it was a one time thing. That I loved him too much to become involved with him. And suddenly all the light in those baby blues went out. I thought for a moment that I had broken him, and I wanted to cry. But he didn't get mad. He was just hurt. "That's bullshit. You know it is." And then he left; his words still haunting the air.
By shear luck, we managed to remain friends. We stayed that way through the rest of High School. Afterwards, I went to Vasser. Brian... dear sweet Brian went to West Point to prove something. Or so he told me. "You may feel the need to prove yourself to everyone else... even you. But you never have to prove anything to me. I know how great you are." He graduated top of his class. We'd lost touch in college, but I was damn sure there for his Graduation. And the after party. And the drinking. And let's just say... things happened. Only this time he had learned tricks I hadn't even heard of. And afterward, I didn't kick him out of bed. We spooned as best we could on his tiny bed. Our hot, perspiring skin sticking to each other all night long. He kissed my neck and fondled me gently as I drifted off to the most comfortable sleep I'd ever had. I've never felt so safe as in his arms.
But it wasn't going to last. I tried to have "the talk" with him the next day over the breakfast he cooked for me. He put his hand over my mouth before I could say it. "Shhh. I know. I've always known." We made love one more time after breakfast. And then I left.
I lost track of Brian after that. His Mom kept me up to date on the major beats. He became a Flyboy. F-16s. Not long after the night we'd shared, he met his fiance`. I even scored an invitation. Never made it though. Neither did he. Brian was shot down over Afghanistan in 2003. I barely held it together at the funeral. Some military guy gave his Mom and the girl who would have been his widow a posthumous Purple Heart. He said Brian was a hero. It didn't make it any easier.
Sometimes I wonder if it's all a dream. Like maybe this is all in my mind and Brian never really existed. That would make it so much easier. Then I could just wake up from this pain. The pain of being truly, finally separated from him. The pain of not knowing.
It's funny. Only now do I realize that I ended up just like those girls I'd despised. My path was different than theirs. I held Brian at arms length out of fear of growing up and facing the future. But the truth is, I always thought he would wait for me. It seems so silly now. I never got to tell him how much I love him.
So I told him at lunch in the cafeteria. Between bites of my cherry pop tart, as he drew smiley faces in his mashed potatoes, I told Brian his destiny. "I've decided to seduce you." He managed to look up from his mashed potatoes after that. "wh--- huhhh--- what?" No matter how it seems, Brian wasn't stupid. Far from it. He was just... a boy. And boys are just slow on the uptake when it comes to sex. Fact of life, I suppose.
But in every other way, he was just... rad. Stupendous. Perpendicular. (It makes sense because I say so; sue me.) He liked Tori Amos and Indiana Jones. If you asked him whether he likes chocolate or vanilla he would say "Rocky road." And most importantly, he was the only one who would jump off the big tree in the creek with me. How can you not adore the boy who jumps with you? And the best part was, he was still a hidden jem. No one else looked beyond the skinny boy with the thatch of brown tangled hair and chest freckles. No one but me. I looked into those baby blues all the time. Brian had kind eyes. He was the kind of boy that other girls ignore until they're old and worn out and ready to settle down. And then they spend the rest of their hag years bitching about how "all the good ones are either gay or taken". Because they just assumed that boys like Brian would remain boys and wait for them. Except they don't they grow into men. And guess what bitches? You ain't the only game in town with a push-up bra and a pair of legs.
I hate girls like that, and even then I was determined not to be one. I was alway mature for my age, you know? Daddy always said I was "too big fer my britches." He's old. He says things like that. So, anyway... I basically told the boy that I own him. Not that I needed to tell him that.
Do I have any choice in the matter?
Hmmmmm... no. No I'm going to seduce you.
I see. Why exactly?
Because I don't want one of these skeezy girls taking your virginity from you. You need a girl with talent and experience to guide you into manhood.
Layla... you're a virgin too.
... I meant EMOTIONAL experience. Like... maturity, you know.
God, I was full of shit as a kid. I was too proud to admit that I wanted HIM to make ME a woman. I mean, I wasn't in love with Brian, buuuuuttt... I knew sex would be an issue soon. I'd heard all these horror stories from my older sister and her friends about their first times. I really didn't want to lose my virginity while crying in the back of a Volkswagon. Brian was my best friend. I knew he would be gentle and loving. And somehow I knew it was important that we experience this together. All these years later, I can honestly say I was right. And I have no regrets about that.
Sooooo... how are you planning to seduce me.
Oh, that's easy. Like this: come to my house after 11 and I'll fuck you.
That... that's it? That's how you seduce me?
Is your dick hard?
...
See? You're seduced. You're welcome.
Eleven o'clock on the dot, there was a knock at my window. I opened it so he could come through. Unfortunately, as nervous as he was, he tripped on the window sill and fell to the ground with a loud thud. It's a miracle my Dad didn't burst through the door and kill him. But I had my music on pretty loud. I put on my Cranberries CD, both to muffle the sounds of our awkward humping, and to set the mood. No Need to Argue was depressing, but mellow. We were both a twitching bundle of nerves ready to snap at the slightest thing. Mellow was goooooood.
I... uhhh... I stole a condom from my Dad. Should.... should I put it on?
Umm.... no. Not yet. I got my sister to buy us some peppermint schnapps. Wanna drink?
Uhhh... yeah. Sounds like a plan.
We laid back on my bed like two kids having a sleepover, not even touching. We drank and passed back and forth until the bottle was nearly empty. And then the strangest thing happened. We stopped thinking. He looked at me with those blues and I melted. I just knew he was going to kiss me, and I wanted it more than I had ever wanted anything before. Boys don't ever seem to know how important the kiss is to a girl... well... this one did. I still have dreams about that kiss. Maybe it was the schnapps. Maybe it was his technique. Or maybe it was just the feeling of being with the boy you're meant to be with. Whatever it was, he was an amazing kisser.
My eyes were still shut tight as I melted into him, when he broke the kiss and started to undress me. Nothing was like I expected. He didn't try to rip anything off or fumble with my bra; he took his time. And as each article of clothing fell to my floor, he kissed me all over. On my neck... my breasts... my belly button... my legs... and eventually my pussy. When he was done giving me the tonguing of a lifetime, Brian looked up at me quizzically. I nodded nervously, and he smiled.
Brian knelt beside me and started taking his own clothes off. It freaked me out a little when he removed his pants, and with good reason as it turned out. Brian may not have had a whole lot of upper body strength back then, but as it turned out, all his muscle mass was in his third arm. Woof. It was pretty stupid, but I didn't make him wear the condom. I didn't care. Those moments were magic. Sure, at first, when he pushed in and broke my cherry it hurt. And it was awkward. His stroke wasn't nearly as nice as his tongue... but... there was something about being there with this boy inside me. Yeah, magic. That's what it was. Because for all his inexperience, that was among the best sex I've ever had. I still get tingles thinking about his big dick thrusting inside of me. I cried as I held onto him for hear life, and he kissed my tears away. I'll never forget, just as I started to cum, he said "I'm so glad it's you, Layla. It's always been you."
When it was over, I didn't want to risk cuddling and getting caught, so I sort of kicked him out. I did, however keep his underwear as a trophy.
The next day I told Brian it was a one time thing. That I loved him too much to become involved with him. And suddenly all the light in those baby blues went out. I thought for a moment that I had broken him, and I wanted to cry. But he didn't get mad. He was just hurt. "That's bullshit. You know it is." And then he left; his words still haunting the air.
By shear luck, we managed to remain friends. We stayed that way through the rest of High School. Afterwards, I went to Vasser. Brian... dear sweet Brian went to West Point to prove something. Or so he told me. "You may feel the need to prove yourself to everyone else... even you. But you never have to prove anything to me. I know how great you are." He graduated top of his class. We'd lost touch in college, but I was damn sure there for his Graduation. And the after party. And the drinking. And let's just say... things happened. Only this time he had learned tricks I hadn't even heard of. And afterward, I didn't kick him out of bed. We spooned as best we could on his tiny bed. Our hot, perspiring skin sticking to each other all night long. He kissed my neck and fondled me gently as I drifted off to the most comfortable sleep I'd ever had. I've never felt so safe as in his arms.
But it wasn't going to last. I tried to have "the talk" with him the next day over the breakfast he cooked for me. He put his hand over my mouth before I could say it. "Shhh. I know. I've always known." We made love one more time after breakfast. And then I left.
I lost track of Brian after that. His Mom kept me up to date on the major beats. He became a Flyboy. F-16s. Not long after the night we'd shared, he met his fiance`. I even scored an invitation. Never made it though. Neither did he. Brian was shot down over Afghanistan in 2003. I barely held it together at the funeral. Some military guy gave his Mom and the girl who would have been his widow a posthumous Purple Heart. He said Brian was a hero. It didn't make it any easier.
Sometimes I wonder if it's all a dream. Like maybe this is all in my mind and Brian never really existed. That would make it so much easier. Then I could just wake up from this pain. The pain of being truly, finally separated from him. The pain of not knowing.
It's funny. Only now do I realize that I ended up just like those girls I'd despised. My path was different than theirs. I held Brian at arms length out of fear of growing up and facing the future. But the truth is, I always thought he would wait for me. It seems so silly now. I never got to tell him how much I love him.
Monday, December 12, 2011
A Pebble Adrift
Let me tell you about my little brother, Bobby.
Before he was born I used to pray for him. Literally, when he was a kid, I used to ask God to give me a little brother every night. And each night, at the end of each prayer, I promised I would be the best big brother there ever was. I was five at the time. A year later, God answered my prayers, and Bobby was born.
Of course, like all little kids, I had no idea what it was I'd committed to. I was used to being the baby of the family, and when Bobby started getting all the attention I began to resent him. It didn't help matters when Ma and Dad divorced and I was forced to babysit him while Ma worked long hours to keep us afloat. I was de facto man of the house and I hated every second of it. I hated being stuck with Bobby, with taking care of him and helping raise him, while everyone else my age was allowed to just... be. I hated it, and at times I hated him. A lot of my aggression at this crappy situation we found ourselves in was taken out on him. It kept us from being brothers. Instead I was a strict father figure, and it was like trying to squeeze sand in my palm. Typically, the tighter I squeezed, the more he rebelled. The more he rebelled, the stricter I became. I treated him like a kid. I never gave him a chance to grow up and be responsible for himself. I expected him to act like a child and he did; he never really grew up because I never let him. And so I blame myself for all of it.
Despite his untamed id, Bobby managed to find a nice life for himself. His wife Maria was everything that a man should want in a woman; beautiful, intelligent, graceful and funny, just the right amount of sass. My niece and nephew took after their Mom, but you could tell they were Bobby's kids by their eyes and that wild spirit. They were... they were the most beautiful things I ever saw in my whole life... I couldn't have loved them any more if they had been my own heart. Hell if they weren't.
After college, Bobby decided to follow in my footsteps. He got a job in the Chronal Variance Authority as a Monitor, looking for any chronal anomalies, any sign that someone was making an un-authorized time jump, or worse tampering with the timeflow. Of course we didn't technically work together. I'm a Level 9 Field Agent. So when he found someone playing dice with the Universe, it was my job to find them and stop them from breaking the timeflow if possible, or eliminate them if it wasn't. And Bobby was good at his job. He caught more unauthorized Jumpers than anyone in his department.
He was so good that the higher-ups decided he should be Head Monitor. I was in tears at his celebration party, realizing finally that he wasn't my little brother anymore. He was a grown man. "I'm so damn proud of you." I said. "I spent so much time waiting for you to screw up again that I never stopped to look at you. If I had, I would have seen how good a man and a husband and a father you've become. I'm so sorry I never recognized it." Yeah, I cried like a baby. He did too.
We stayed up most of that night talking. Too late, in fact. On the drive home, Bobby fell asleep at the wheel. Whether it was him or the drunk driver who was more at fault, no one can say. But it doesn't matter much anyway. Bobby barely had a scratch on him, and that made it so much worse. I was the first to get to the hospital. The first to see him. And when he told me, he could barely squeak the words out of his mouth, barely bring himself to say it... God... my heart was ripped out of my chest. As I held my baby brother to my chest, he kept asking over and over, "WHY????" I don't know if he was talking to me or God, but it didn't matter much. Neither of us had much to say that night.
The CVA tried to get Bobby to take a sabbatical, to get his head together. He refused. Sitting in that house just reminded him of their absence. There was no rest for him there with the ghosts of the past. He started staying at Ma's place just so he could sleep. The CVA reluctantly allowed him to go back to work. Unfortunately it didn't last long. He started showing up to work drunk. Not even just a little drunk. Many times he was so bombed out of his skull he could barely stand. And then one day, his boss John, an Overseer, told him to go home and sleep it off. And Bobby just snapped. His fist hit John in the gut with the impact of a prize fighter. Three of his coworkers tried to hold him down, but he fought like a mad man. By the time I got there, there was only one way I could think to subdue him. His face snapped back as my right cross hit his temple. He was on the ground and out. John told me to let him know he was fired when he woke. I carried him home knowing this would only make him fall apart even more. And I just wanted to fall apart too.
Bobby spent the next sixth months locked in the bedroom he'd grown up in. No booze. Very little food. Just him and three ghosts. And of course his regret. I guess Bobby got to thinking about time. I'm not sure why the idea didn't occur to him sooner.
They hadn't deactivated Bobby's codes yet. So it was a simple matter for him to get in. Of course, stealing a Jump Watch... that took skill. Or maybe just determination. So he turned the dial back a year. As soon as he jumped, I got the call. I set my own watch and went after him. I found him the next morning. He was watching his family, including himself, eating breakfast at Ma's house. I kept my distance and tried not to look in the window.
"Bobby... what have you done??"
He turned to me with a look on unbridled joy and relief and love. It was so simple and happy. I wanted desperately to join him.
"I saved them, Mike. I cut the battery wires on the car so we'd have to stay the night at Mom's house. They're alive, Mike. They're alive!" I wanted so badly to believe it. I wanted to run in that house and take them in my arms and tell them that I love them. But I knew it wasn't true. "You shouldn't have done it, Bobby. You don't understand.. you can't.." I could see the confusion on his face. The hurt at my words.
"I shouldn't have? What? I shouldn't have righted a wrong? I shouldn't have my family back??"
"There are rules..."
"To hell with your rules!!! Those are my damn kids in there! That is my wife! Your niece and nephew! MY GODDAMN CHILDREN! My babies! You're telling me they shouldn't get the chance to grow up??! To get married and have babies of their own?"
"The rules are in place for a reason!"
"Hang your rules! You and your damn rules! Ever since we were kids, that's all you've ever loved are rules! You don't love my kids! You just love you job. You want me to give up my family for a bunch of stupid rules? You are the most selfish son of a bitch I've ever met!!"
"You arrogant little punk. DO YOU THINK THIS ISN'T KILLING ME? I loved the three of them as much almost as much as you did. I would give anything. I would give my life if it would set it right! If they could... if they could just..."
"You don't have to, Mike! You can let this one go! We can have it all back!"
"You don't get it, do you? You have no idea what you've done. You haven't set anything right, Bobby. Isn't nearly as simple as you want to believe. Maria, Nikki, Alex... they're still dead."
"Wh.. what? No! What are you talking about? They're right there!"
"Look again. Look in the window, Bobby. You see that guy?"
"Yeah. It's me. The me from the past. Happy!"
"No, it's not. That's not you. Time isn't like a movie. You can't just put in an alternate ending. It a time "stream". Time is part of one cohesive Universal structure. It's sentient. It doesn't tolerate inconsistencies and paradoxes. We're in an alternate Universe. They're still dead."
"NO! No, take it back! You take it back!!!!" His hands pounded against my chest like a ten year old throwing a tantrum.
"There's rules, but I didn't make them. When you made a change to the timeline, you did more than save those people. The ripple changed the course of history. People will die because you changed the game. Babies won't be born. Empires will rise and fall over the course of human history, all because you cut some wires."
"But... I just..."
"I know. I'm sorry."
That was the final straw for him. Even after everything that he'd been through, that was all he could take. I could see it in his eyes. That was what finally broke him. "So... when we go back... they won't be?"
And he still hadn't gotten it. It was the worst moments of my life.
"There's no going back Bobby. For either of us. Like I said, the Universe knows what it's doing. When someone makes a change to the timeflow, the Universe sort of spackles over that person. You were replaced the second you clipped the battery. Your life will be lived out by that guy. You're unstuck in time. A Pebble adrift in the ocean."
"So... then what?"
"Did you know I've never eliminated a Jumper before? Killed I mean."
"I don't think I..."
"There's a reason for it. I've always caught the Jumpers before they changed the timeflow. Because once I eliminate a Jumper, I've made a change... and I become unstuck too."
"Mike? I'm your brother. Please? Please don't..."
"I don't have a choice. You don't know what happens to someone who makes a change. Jumpers who mess with the flow are purged. They're slowly disintegrated. Disappearing into nothingness. The pain is indescibable. If I do it... at least it won't be painful."
He didn't even respond. He just knelt in front of me. I sat down and held him in my arms, trying to burn that image in my mind. "I love you Mike." Then I took the syringe out of my pocket, and set him free. "I love you too little brother."
After stashing the body, I came out here, to the park. Nikki and Alex can't see me watching them. It's a risk though. But as I feel my body being torn apart, I don't care much. If I'm going to die, this is where I want to be. And I take a little solace in the fact that some part of them of will live on. And my niece and nephew will grow up, get married and have babies of their own.
It hurts so much. I'm glad Bobby didn't have to feel it. I hope I get to see him on the other side. I wonder what it'll fe..*
Before he was born I used to pray for him. Literally, when he was a kid, I used to ask God to give me a little brother every night. And each night, at the end of each prayer, I promised I would be the best big brother there ever was. I was five at the time. A year later, God answered my prayers, and Bobby was born.
Of course, like all little kids, I had no idea what it was I'd committed to. I was used to being the baby of the family, and when Bobby started getting all the attention I began to resent him. It didn't help matters when Ma and Dad divorced and I was forced to babysit him while Ma worked long hours to keep us afloat. I was de facto man of the house and I hated every second of it. I hated being stuck with Bobby, with taking care of him and helping raise him, while everyone else my age was allowed to just... be. I hated it, and at times I hated him. A lot of my aggression at this crappy situation we found ourselves in was taken out on him. It kept us from being brothers. Instead I was a strict father figure, and it was like trying to squeeze sand in my palm. Typically, the tighter I squeezed, the more he rebelled. The more he rebelled, the stricter I became. I treated him like a kid. I never gave him a chance to grow up and be responsible for himself. I expected him to act like a child and he did; he never really grew up because I never let him. And so I blame myself for all of it.
Despite his untamed id, Bobby managed to find a nice life for himself. His wife Maria was everything that a man should want in a woman; beautiful, intelligent, graceful and funny, just the right amount of sass. My niece and nephew took after their Mom, but you could tell they were Bobby's kids by their eyes and that wild spirit. They were... they were the most beautiful things I ever saw in my whole life... I couldn't have loved them any more if they had been my own heart. Hell if they weren't.
After college, Bobby decided to follow in my footsteps. He got a job in the Chronal Variance Authority as a Monitor, looking for any chronal anomalies, any sign that someone was making an un-authorized time jump, or worse tampering with the timeflow. Of course we didn't technically work together. I'm a Level 9 Field Agent. So when he found someone playing dice with the Universe, it was my job to find them and stop them from breaking the timeflow if possible, or eliminate them if it wasn't. And Bobby was good at his job. He caught more unauthorized Jumpers than anyone in his department.
He was so good that the higher-ups decided he should be Head Monitor. I was in tears at his celebration party, realizing finally that he wasn't my little brother anymore. He was a grown man. "I'm so damn proud of you." I said. "I spent so much time waiting for you to screw up again that I never stopped to look at you. If I had, I would have seen how good a man and a husband and a father you've become. I'm so sorry I never recognized it." Yeah, I cried like a baby. He did too.
We stayed up most of that night talking. Too late, in fact. On the drive home, Bobby fell asleep at the wheel. Whether it was him or the drunk driver who was more at fault, no one can say. But it doesn't matter much anyway. Bobby barely had a scratch on him, and that made it so much worse. I was the first to get to the hospital. The first to see him. And when he told me, he could barely squeak the words out of his mouth, barely bring himself to say it... God... my heart was ripped out of my chest. As I held my baby brother to my chest, he kept asking over and over, "WHY????" I don't know if he was talking to me or God, but it didn't matter much. Neither of us had much to say that night.
The CVA tried to get Bobby to take a sabbatical, to get his head together. He refused. Sitting in that house just reminded him of their absence. There was no rest for him there with the ghosts of the past. He started staying at Ma's place just so he could sleep. The CVA reluctantly allowed him to go back to work. Unfortunately it didn't last long. He started showing up to work drunk. Not even just a little drunk. Many times he was so bombed out of his skull he could barely stand. And then one day, his boss John, an Overseer, told him to go home and sleep it off. And Bobby just snapped. His fist hit John in the gut with the impact of a prize fighter. Three of his coworkers tried to hold him down, but he fought like a mad man. By the time I got there, there was only one way I could think to subdue him. His face snapped back as my right cross hit his temple. He was on the ground and out. John told me to let him know he was fired when he woke. I carried him home knowing this would only make him fall apart even more. And I just wanted to fall apart too.
Bobby spent the next sixth months locked in the bedroom he'd grown up in. No booze. Very little food. Just him and three ghosts. And of course his regret. I guess Bobby got to thinking about time. I'm not sure why the idea didn't occur to him sooner.
They hadn't deactivated Bobby's codes yet. So it was a simple matter for him to get in. Of course, stealing a Jump Watch... that took skill. Or maybe just determination. So he turned the dial back a year. As soon as he jumped, I got the call. I set my own watch and went after him. I found him the next morning. He was watching his family, including himself, eating breakfast at Ma's house. I kept my distance and tried not to look in the window.
"Bobby... what have you done??"
He turned to me with a look on unbridled joy and relief and love. It was so simple and happy. I wanted desperately to join him.
"I saved them, Mike. I cut the battery wires on the car so we'd have to stay the night at Mom's house. They're alive, Mike. They're alive!" I wanted so badly to believe it. I wanted to run in that house and take them in my arms and tell them that I love them. But I knew it wasn't true. "You shouldn't have done it, Bobby. You don't understand.. you can't.." I could see the confusion on his face. The hurt at my words.
"I shouldn't have? What? I shouldn't have righted a wrong? I shouldn't have my family back??"
"There are rules..."
"To hell with your rules!!! Those are my damn kids in there! That is my wife! Your niece and nephew! MY GODDAMN CHILDREN! My babies! You're telling me they shouldn't get the chance to grow up??! To get married and have babies of their own?"
"The rules are in place for a reason!"
"Hang your rules! You and your damn rules! Ever since we were kids, that's all you've ever loved are rules! You don't love my kids! You just love you job. You want me to give up my family for a bunch of stupid rules? You are the most selfish son of a bitch I've ever met!!"
"You arrogant little punk. DO YOU THINK THIS ISN'T KILLING ME? I loved the three of them as much almost as much as you did. I would give anything. I would give my life if it would set it right! If they could... if they could just..."
"You don't have to, Mike! You can let this one go! We can have it all back!"
"You don't get it, do you? You have no idea what you've done. You haven't set anything right, Bobby. Isn't nearly as simple as you want to believe. Maria, Nikki, Alex... they're still dead."
"Wh.. what? No! What are you talking about? They're right there!"
"Look again. Look in the window, Bobby. You see that guy?"
"Yeah. It's me. The me from the past. Happy!"
"No, it's not. That's not you. Time isn't like a movie. You can't just put in an alternate ending. It a time "stream". Time is part of one cohesive Universal structure. It's sentient. It doesn't tolerate inconsistencies and paradoxes. We're in an alternate Universe. They're still dead."
"NO! No, take it back! You take it back!!!!" His hands pounded against my chest like a ten year old throwing a tantrum.
"There's rules, but I didn't make them. When you made a change to the timeline, you did more than save those people. The ripple changed the course of history. People will die because you changed the game. Babies won't be born. Empires will rise and fall over the course of human history, all because you cut some wires."
"But... I just..."
"I know. I'm sorry."
That was the final straw for him. Even after everything that he'd been through, that was all he could take. I could see it in his eyes. That was what finally broke him. "So... when we go back... they won't be?"
And he still hadn't gotten it. It was the worst moments of my life.
"There's no going back Bobby. For either of us. Like I said, the Universe knows what it's doing. When someone makes a change to the timeflow, the Universe sort of spackles over that person. You were replaced the second you clipped the battery. Your life will be lived out by that guy. You're unstuck in time. A Pebble adrift in the ocean."
"So... then what?"
"Did you know I've never eliminated a Jumper before? Killed I mean."
"I don't think I..."
"There's a reason for it. I've always caught the Jumpers before they changed the timeflow. Because once I eliminate a Jumper, I've made a change... and I become unstuck too."
"Mike? I'm your brother. Please? Please don't..."
"I don't have a choice. You don't know what happens to someone who makes a change. Jumpers who mess with the flow are purged. They're slowly disintegrated. Disappearing into nothingness. The pain is indescibable. If I do it... at least it won't be painful."
He didn't even respond. He just knelt in front of me. I sat down and held him in my arms, trying to burn that image in my mind. "I love you Mike." Then I took the syringe out of my pocket, and set him free. "I love you too little brother."
After stashing the body, I came out here, to the park. Nikki and Alex can't see me watching them. It's a risk though. But as I feel my body being torn apart, I don't care much. If I'm going to die, this is where I want to be. And I take a little solace in the fact that some part of them of will live on. And my niece and nephew will grow up, get married and have babies of their own.
It hurts so much. I'm glad Bobby didn't have to feel it. I hope I get to see him on the other side. I wonder what it'll fe..*
Saturday, December 3, 2011
How to Spot a Hipster
I heard a joke not long ago.
the final stage of hipsterism is to claim you hated hipsters before hating hipsters was cool.
It's almost enough to make your brain implode from the stupidity.
Since hipsters have decided to hide in plain sight, I've decided to make a list of things to help you spot one. Upon spotting, feel free to beat them on the nose with a rolled up newspaper and yell "No!"
Hipsters:
-Like bands with stupid names that no one has ever EVER heard of. Bands with names like Neutral Milk Hotel, Deathcab for Cutie, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Philosophical Shmorgasboard and Bring Shannon Skechers. You'll hear them say things like "Have you heard the new Vaginal Anglican album? It's a-maz-ing!" And it isn't. No band with a name like that could possibly be good. It's as if a dog ate a dictionary and these bands choose their names from whatever was left of what the dog shat. Whatsmore it's clear they choose the names precisely because they're so awful. The other day, I read about a new kind of music called "dub step", and I thought "that can't be a real thing". Who the hell knows what dub step is? No one with a job.
-Like things "ironically". Except they don't, because that is a profound misunderstanding of the word "ironic". Ironic and facetious do not mean the same thing. The fact that these people don't know that, however, is ironic. Furthermore, by declaring they like something ironically, what they are in fact saying is that they like pretending to like something they have deemed terrible both to make fun of the people who do like it and to point out how clever and *AHEM* ironic they are. This is a complex way of saying you're a pretentious asshole and a complete fucking moron.
-Hate anyone and anything that is mainstream in popular culture. I had an argument online once about the fact Nickelback. This asswipe was telling me how uncool Nickelback is and that all the bands he listens too are a-maz-ing but will never be heard. (Which is really fine, because if they ever became popular he would have declared that he never listened to them.) I explained that I like Nickelback and I could care less if it's cool to like them, but that they were in fact "cool". One of the definitions of cool as a slang term is popular. Regardless of your personal opinion of the band, Nickelback made a lot of money. They were very popular. It's math. Nevertheless all the little hipster bitches explained that I was uncool.
Hey, I hate KISS. That doesn't mean that they aren't cool. I'm not the arbiter of popularity.
The point is, hipsters have a preternatural hate of anything popular. They have to like something before it's cool and then declare it and everyone around it a pariah as soon as it becomes discovered. Ever noticed how Dane Cook was the biggest comedian on the planet for 5 years and suddenly became a running gag for terrible comedians? Not a coincidence.
-Use the word "douche" a lot. "Ugh. That guy? Like, total douche." A hipster's favorite insult is douche, and everyone and everything they hate are "totally douche-tastic"... or something. Of course, there's nothing "douchier" than people who use the word douche all the time. And that, friends, actually is ironic.
-Hate corporations like Apple but think Steve Jobs was this generation's Einstein. And they declare their hate/love of such things on social networks like Facebook and Twitter. Also ironic.
-Use tweetspeak in real life (excuse me, IRL). Epic, fail, FTW... other things I don't understand.
-Think Betty White is awesome in anything she does. Also, Ellen Page. I don't get the Ellen Page thing at all. Juno was kind of a funny, quirky film... at first. When you watch it more than once, it's actually completely terrible. Or mostly, anyway. And Page just isn't that great. I guess it's because she's underrated to some people? As for Betty White... well she is great. But the sudden love of all things Betty sprouted overnight. Why? Because it's very weird and offbeat to tell people one of your favorite actresses is Betty White. That's the only reason. Of course no one talks about Betty White anymore. She was popular for too long. Whatever, I still love me some Golden Girls. And even like Hot in Cleveland, or as I like to call it Golden Girls: The Next Generation (also applicable to Sex and the City).
-Make declarations about what is and isn't Punk Rock. And don't know anything about the origins and history of punk rock, which wasn't a fashion statement.
-Read Graphic Novels, but not Comics because Comics are for losers. Never mind the fact that their favorite Graphic Novels are Watchmen and Sandman, neither of which are Graphic Novels. They're comics.
-Hate Country Music but somehow love Johnny Cash. I once saw a message-board post from a kid who said that he hates Country and that he listens to Johnny Cash. He then declared that "No Johnny Cash does not count as country because he's mother-frakkin Johnny Cash!" I can't tell you how much this makes me want to go on a killing spree in a vinyl record store. In the words of Eric Church, the Man in Black would have whipped your ass. Ever since Walk the Line came out (which I loved) it's become counter culture to declare Cash one of your heroes. The fact that he's dead only makes it more relevant. I like Cash, but he's not the greatest Country Singer of all time. And most of the people who claim him as a hero aren't familiar with a third of his catalog or even much outside the Walk the Line soundtrack, aside from A Boy Named Sue. Cash is awesome. Willie Nelson is better. It's just that he's alive and doesn't have a biopic.
----Here's the thing: I have nothing against people who don't like Apple or Dane Cook. If you dig Ellen Page and Alan Moore comics, that's great. And I support anyone who listens to a classic Country artist like Johnny Cash. (Maybe look into Waylon, while you're at it.) My problem is with the motivation behind it.
There is nothing more useless than someone whose decision making process revolves around what is or isn't cool or bad ass. You know what's cool? Not being afraid to say that your favorite film is FAME or that your favorite bands are REO Speedwagon and Conway Twitty without adding silly qualifiers like "guilty pleasure". Why should you be ashamed to like what you like? Screw that. Elitism is a fancy way of saying "self-absorbed and worthless".
You know what's bad ass? Getting a job and being a productive member of society; therefor not having time to worry about being cool. Oh, and not giving a shit about what other people think.
Rant over.
Did you hear about the Hipster who died in the volcano? He was into lava before lava was cool.It's a pretty clever joke. Funny because it's true, 'ya see? Hipsters are this generation's counter-culture, combined with the "meta". They aren't counter-culture because society runs opposite of them. They run in the opposite whatever direction society turns; rebels without a clue. They are contrary for contrary's sake. There is little I hate more than hipsters and all they represent. But a few months ago, I notice something. Suddenly everyone hates hipsters, even people that are clearly hipsters themselves. And it occurred to me:
the final stage of hipsterism is to claim you hated hipsters before hating hipsters was cool.
It's almost enough to make your brain implode from the stupidity.
Since hipsters have decided to hide in plain sight, I've decided to make a list of things to help you spot one. Upon spotting, feel free to beat them on the nose with a rolled up newspaper and yell "No!"
Hipsters:
-Like bands with stupid names that no one has ever EVER heard of. Bands with names like Neutral Milk Hotel, Deathcab for Cutie, Red Jumpsuit Apparatus, Philosophical Shmorgasboard and Bring Shannon Skechers. You'll hear them say things like "Have you heard the new Vaginal Anglican album? It's a-maz-ing!" And it isn't. No band with a name like that could possibly be good. It's as if a dog ate a dictionary and these bands choose their names from whatever was left of what the dog shat. Whatsmore it's clear they choose the names precisely because they're so awful. The other day, I read about a new kind of music called "dub step", and I thought "that can't be a real thing". Who the hell knows what dub step is? No one with a job.
-Like things "ironically". Except they don't, because that is a profound misunderstanding of the word "ironic". Ironic and facetious do not mean the same thing. The fact that these people don't know that, however, is ironic. Furthermore, by declaring they like something ironically, what they are in fact saying is that they like pretending to like something they have deemed terrible both to make fun of the people who do like it and to point out how clever and *AHEM* ironic they are. This is a complex way of saying you're a pretentious asshole and a complete fucking moron.
-Hate anyone and anything that is mainstream in popular culture. I had an argument online once about the fact Nickelback. This asswipe was telling me how uncool Nickelback is and that all the bands he listens too are a-maz-ing but will never be heard. (Which is really fine, because if they ever became popular he would have declared that he never listened to them.) I explained that I like Nickelback and I could care less if it's cool to like them, but that they were in fact "cool". One of the definitions of cool as a slang term is popular. Regardless of your personal opinion of the band, Nickelback made a lot of money. They were very popular. It's math. Nevertheless all the little hipster bitches explained that I was uncool.
Hey, I hate KISS. That doesn't mean that they aren't cool. I'm not the arbiter of popularity.
The point is, hipsters have a preternatural hate of anything popular. They have to like something before it's cool and then declare it and everyone around it a pariah as soon as it becomes discovered. Ever noticed how Dane Cook was the biggest comedian on the planet for 5 years and suddenly became a running gag for terrible comedians? Not a coincidence.
-Use the word "douche" a lot. "Ugh. That guy? Like, total douche." A hipster's favorite insult is douche, and everyone and everything they hate are "totally douche-tastic"... or something. Of course, there's nothing "douchier" than people who use the word douche all the time. And that, friends, actually is ironic.
-Hate corporations like Apple but think Steve Jobs was this generation's Einstein. And they declare their hate/love of such things on social networks like Facebook and Twitter. Also ironic.
-Use tweetspeak in real life (excuse me, IRL). Epic, fail, FTW... other things I don't understand.
-Think Betty White is awesome in anything she does. Also, Ellen Page. I don't get the Ellen Page thing at all. Juno was kind of a funny, quirky film... at first. When you watch it more than once, it's actually completely terrible. Or mostly, anyway. And Page just isn't that great. I guess it's because she's underrated to some people? As for Betty White... well she is great. But the sudden love of all things Betty sprouted overnight. Why? Because it's very weird and offbeat to tell people one of your favorite actresses is Betty White. That's the only reason. Of course no one talks about Betty White anymore. She was popular for too long. Whatever, I still love me some Golden Girls. And even like Hot in Cleveland, or as I like to call it Golden Girls: The Next Generation (also applicable to Sex and the City).
-Make declarations about what is and isn't Punk Rock. And don't know anything about the origins and history of punk rock, which wasn't a fashion statement.
-Read Graphic Novels, but not Comics because Comics are for losers. Never mind the fact that their favorite Graphic Novels are Watchmen and Sandman, neither of which are Graphic Novels. They're comics.
-Hate Country Music but somehow love Johnny Cash. I once saw a message-board post from a kid who said that he hates Country and that he listens to Johnny Cash. He then declared that "No Johnny Cash does not count as country because he's mother-frakkin Johnny Cash!" I can't tell you how much this makes me want to go on a killing spree in a vinyl record store. In the words of Eric Church, the Man in Black would have whipped your ass. Ever since Walk the Line came out (which I loved) it's become counter culture to declare Cash one of your heroes. The fact that he's dead only makes it more relevant. I like Cash, but he's not the greatest Country Singer of all time. And most of the people who claim him as a hero aren't familiar with a third of his catalog or even much outside the Walk the Line soundtrack, aside from A Boy Named Sue. Cash is awesome. Willie Nelson is better. It's just that he's alive and doesn't have a biopic.
----Here's the thing: I have nothing against people who don't like Apple or Dane Cook. If you dig Ellen Page and Alan Moore comics, that's great. And I support anyone who listens to a classic Country artist like Johnny Cash. (Maybe look into Waylon, while you're at it.) My problem is with the motivation behind it.
There is nothing more useless than someone whose decision making process revolves around what is or isn't cool or bad ass. You know what's cool? Not being afraid to say that your favorite film is FAME or that your favorite bands are REO Speedwagon and Conway Twitty without adding silly qualifiers like "guilty pleasure". Why should you be ashamed to like what you like? Screw that. Elitism is a fancy way of saying "self-absorbed and worthless".
You know what's bad ass? Getting a job and being a productive member of society; therefor not having time to worry about being cool. Oh, and not giving a shit about what other people think.
Rant over.
Monday, October 17, 2011
3 Blogs in 1
I've had a lot of stuff in my head lately and I wanted to write about them. Typically, I haven't had a lot of time or ability to sit down and do that. When I do, I just don't feel like writing. So I'm forcing myself to accomplish something. Of course I should be forcing myself to write the article I've been mulling around in my head for a week and a half, but I digress.
Blog 1. Letter to Me.
There's a Brad Paisley song, Letter to Me. It's not one of his best, but it's good.
It's about a dude who wishes he could write a letter to himself as a kid. I was thinking about that recently; what I would say to 18 year old me. And it wouldn't be much. {Skip college, but read more. Scrap the poetry and start writing. Get a full time job and work hard. Save money and start a business out of town; maybe a comic shop.} That first part is pretty key. I don't think there is any greater waste of my time and money than college. I learned nothing, gained no usable job skills and have greater debt as a result. Literally the only good thing to come out of college was my time at Disney. So it's a legitimate regret. I'm sure I could come up with other things to tell myself, but those are the bullet points.
Blog 2. Crazy Girls
You ever find yourself attracted to someone you don't like? Why is that? What the fuck is wrong with humans that we desire things we know are wrong? Cats don't stare longingly at dogs. Or fuck their best friend to get close to them.
See, there was this girl yesterday... We've met twice, and she was entirely unpleasant and unbelievably rude the first time. So when she was around yesterday, I was doing my best to ignore her. However, she wasn't being a cunt just then, so after a while it felt more like I was just being a dick. I tried to soften up and I wasn't entirely successful. Once I get to genuinely disliking someone, it takes A LOT for me to shift streams.
And so I still don't like her. But the whole time I kept thinking about pretty she was. And I kept looking and looking. I don't have a crush or anything, but there is desire there.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want a girlfriend right now. I couldn't afford one if I did. And beyond that, I'm concerned that this girl may be genuinely insane. But it's rare that I'm attracted to a woman on more than just a passing, sexual level. I see plenty of women on the street that I would like to have sex with, but that's usually about it. Maybe there's more wrong with me emotionally than even I suspect. UGH.
Blog 3. Sell Crazy Somewhere Else, Bitch
I'd like to preface this with a disclaimer. I was raised Catholic, but am not Catholic. I have no position on whether Jesus is the son of God. Religion, I decided long ago, is not for me. That said, one of my pet peeves is the current wave of Anti-Religious nonsense that seems to permeate culture these days. "Religious people are all crazy, brain washed idiots!" What the fuck ever. I'm not interested in your hypocrisy or extremism to the Left or the Right. Being an anti-religious zealot doesn't make you any better than being a religious zealot, and we've all got our own bullshit that we shovel on the pile.
Rant over.
So I've been fighting with the post office again. An important envelope was mailed to me that required my signature upon receipt, and since it was sent to my home, I haven't gotten it. I was able to sneak away from work briefly to make the long trek to my neighborhood post office both Thursday and Friday. Despite leaving a note that says {Please pick up your envelope at the post office.} the dumb bitch keeps trying to deliver it. It's frustrating.
My second attempt on Friday was significantly more frustrating. I went around 12, so I figured the Post Office would be packed and given my luck of late, I assumed something bad was going to happen. I parked a couple of buildings down bc the parking lot there is always full. I ran into the building praying no one would call a tow truck. To my shock there was only one woman in line. HALLELUJAH! Unfortunately it quickly became evident the woman wasn't making a transaction; she was merely holding up BOTH of the women behind the counter so she could get some shit off of her chest. Now I'm aggravated. I'm in a rush, bitch. Kindly get the fuck out so I can get my shit. That's enough to piss me off all by itself, but then I started listening to her.
Apparently this woman had some sort of prophetic dream in which one of the women behind the counter told her something (I have no idea what) and it happened. "OH MAH GAHD, you don't understand... when she said that, it was just like in my dream...." Now, we've all had weird deja vu experiences, and I know how that can freak you out. But I'm in a rush and I need to get my shit, and YOU- bitch- are holding me up. Well then she starts talking about how she doesn't think God is talking to her ---which I was glad, because if she DID think God was talking to her, I assumed that conversation would have taken a lot longer and possibly involved recommendations for deodorant. No, she explained God doesn't talk to the Gentiles anymore. Okaaaaaaay. And this has what to do with what? Madam, you are now testing my unwillingness to hurt women. Then she tells us that her husband died 2 months ago. So now I simultaneously feel like a dick and am realizing that she won't be leaving anytime soon and as a result, neither will I. "I know that my husband is in Heaven with the LAWD right now because he was a TRUE BELIEVER!" And she pointed to the ceiling when she mentioned Heaven, as if God was one floor up at the Post Office. Which is fucking frightening. If St Peter is a Government employee, we are collectively fucked.
I was still feeling a twinge of guilt as she migrated from the passing of her apparently Sainted husband to her general beliefs. Something about the difference between the Old Testament and the New Testament. "And if you read the Scripture, God doesn't talk to us like he used to." True. He mainly seems to talk to homeless people who dance with umbrellas in sunshine. Still I felt a little bad for her, but that was quickly passing. And then she said it.
"BUT THE JEEEEEEWWWSSS... NOW THE JEWS ARE DAMNED, BECAUSE THEY KILLED THE MESSIAH." (Yeah, she said it really fucking loud like that, I guess because she wanted to be sure we were paying attention. Or maybe she was trying to persecute someone outside.)
Okay... a couple of things. I realize some sects of Christianity do teach this despite the fact that it isn't entirely historically accurate, even by Christianity's own accounts. That said, I think only the most ardent and blind among the religious believe the Homos are Satan's butt-fucking minions and Jews are damned because of something a few people they never met did 2000 years ago. (In addition to the fact that Jesus died specifically to atone for the sins of mankind, including voting for his death. That's kind of the point of the fucking story.)
Secondly, I am well aware of the rampant Anti-Sematism that is growing in the world despite the Holocaust having happened less than 100 years ago. But still, what the fuck?
And lastly... I'm okay with racism and prejudice. It's human nature. As long as you don't attempt to injure someone when I can do something about it, I'll just ignore you. You have a right to your opinion as much as I have mine. That's the bitch of personal freedoms. But I truly don't get people who blurt shit like that out in front of total strangers. Granted, it's a fairly safe bet that the two black women weren't Jewish. They could have been though, and what about me? I could be Jewish. Or I could be married to someone Jewish. How the fuck does she know? Do I have FUCK DRADELS tattooed on my back? And beyond all that, WHAT THE FUCK DO THE SOULS OF JEWISH PEOPLE HAVE TO DO WITH YOUR DREAM?
...sigh. Thankfully, the woman left after that. But no, my letter still wasn't there.
Blog 1. Letter to Me.
There's a Brad Paisley song, Letter to Me. It's not one of his best, but it's good.
It's about a dude who wishes he could write a letter to himself as a kid. I was thinking about that recently; what I would say to 18 year old me. And it wouldn't be much. {Skip college, but read more. Scrap the poetry and start writing. Get a full time job and work hard. Save money and start a business out of town; maybe a comic shop.} That first part is pretty key. I don't think there is any greater waste of my time and money than college. I learned nothing, gained no usable job skills and have greater debt as a result. Literally the only good thing to come out of college was my time at Disney. So it's a legitimate regret. I'm sure I could come up with other things to tell myself, but those are the bullet points.
Blog 2. Crazy Girls
You ever find yourself attracted to someone you don't like? Why is that? What the fuck is wrong with humans that we desire things we know are wrong? Cats don't stare longingly at dogs. Or fuck their best friend to get close to them.
See, there was this girl yesterday... We've met twice, and she was entirely unpleasant and unbelievably rude the first time. So when she was around yesterday, I was doing my best to ignore her. However, she wasn't being a cunt just then, so after a while it felt more like I was just being a dick. I tried to soften up and I wasn't entirely successful. Once I get to genuinely disliking someone, it takes A LOT for me to shift streams.
And so I still don't like her. But the whole time I kept thinking about pretty she was. And I kept looking and looking. I don't have a crush or anything, but there is desire there.
Don't get me wrong, I don't want a girlfriend right now. I couldn't afford one if I did. And beyond that, I'm concerned that this girl may be genuinely insane. But it's rare that I'm attracted to a woman on more than just a passing, sexual level. I see plenty of women on the street that I would like to have sex with, but that's usually about it. Maybe there's more wrong with me emotionally than even I suspect. UGH.
Blog 3. Sell Crazy Somewhere Else, Bitch
I'd like to preface this with a disclaimer. I was raised Catholic, but am not Catholic. I have no position on whether Jesus is the son of God. Religion, I decided long ago, is not for me. That said, one of my pet peeves is the current wave of Anti-Religious nonsense that seems to permeate culture these days. "Religious people are all crazy, brain washed idiots!" What the fuck ever. I'm not interested in your hypocrisy or extremism to the Left or the Right. Being an anti-religious zealot doesn't make you any better than being a religious zealot, and we've all got our own bullshit that we shovel on the pile.
Rant over.
So I've been fighting with the post office again. An important envelope was mailed to me that required my signature upon receipt, and since it was sent to my home, I haven't gotten it. I was able to sneak away from work briefly to make the long trek to my neighborhood post office both Thursday and Friday. Despite leaving a note that says {Please pick up your envelope at the post office.} the dumb bitch keeps trying to deliver it. It's frustrating.
My second attempt on Friday was significantly more frustrating. I went around 12, so I figured the Post Office would be packed and given my luck of late, I assumed something bad was going to happen. I parked a couple of buildings down bc the parking lot there is always full. I ran into the building praying no one would call a tow truck. To my shock there was only one woman in line. HALLELUJAH! Unfortunately it quickly became evident the woman wasn't making a transaction; she was merely holding up BOTH of the women behind the counter so she could get some shit off of her chest. Now I'm aggravated. I'm in a rush, bitch. Kindly get the fuck out so I can get my shit. That's enough to piss me off all by itself, but then I started listening to her.
Apparently this woman had some sort of prophetic dream in which one of the women behind the counter told her something (I have no idea what) and it happened. "OH MAH GAHD, you don't understand... when she said that, it was just like in my dream...." Now, we've all had weird deja vu experiences, and I know how that can freak you out. But I'm in a rush and I need to get my shit, and YOU- bitch- are holding me up. Well then she starts talking about how she doesn't think God is talking to her ---which I was glad, because if she DID think God was talking to her, I assumed that conversation would have taken a lot longer and possibly involved recommendations for deodorant. No, she explained God doesn't talk to the Gentiles anymore. Okaaaaaaay. And this has what to do with what? Madam, you are now testing my unwillingness to hurt women. Then she tells us that her husband died 2 months ago. So now I simultaneously feel like a dick and am realizing that she won't be leaving anytime soon and as a result, neither will I. "I know that my husband is in Heaven with the LAWD right now because he was a TRUE BELIEVER!" And she pointed to the ceiling when she mentioned Heaven, as if God was one floor up at the Post Office. Which is fucking frightening. If St Peter is a Government employee, we are collectively fucked.
I was still feeling a twinge of guilt as she migrated from the passing of her apparently Sainted husband to her general beliefs. Something about the difference between the Old Testament and the New Testament. "And if you read the Scripture, God doesn't talk to us like he used to." True. He mainly seems to talk to homeless people who dance with umbrellas in sunshine. Still I felt a little bad for her, but that was quickly passing. And then she said it.
"BUT THE JEEEEEEWWWSSS... NOW THE JEWS ARE DAMNED, BECAUSE THEY KILLED THE MESSIAH." (Yeah, she said it really fucking loud like that, I guess because she wanted to be sure we were paying attention. Or maybe she was trying to persecute someone outside.)
Okay... a couple of things. I realize some sects of Christianity do teach this despite the fact that it isn't entirely historically accurate, even by Christianity's own accounts. That said, I think only the most ardent and blind among the religious believe the Homos are Satan's butt-fucking minions and Jews are damned because of something a few people they never met did 2000 years ago. (In addition to the fact that Jesus died specifically to atone for the sins of mankind, including voting for his death. That's kind of the point of the fucking story.)
Secondly, I am well aware of the rampant Anti-Sematism that is growing in the world despite the Holocaust having happened less than 100 years ago. But still, what the fuck?
And lastly... I'm okay with racism and prejudice. It's human nature. As long as you don't attempt to injure someone when I can do something about it, I'll just ignore you. You have a right to your opinion as much as I have mine. That's the bitch of personal freedoms. But I truly don't get people who blurt shit like that out in front of total strangers. Granted, it's a fairly safe bet that the two black women weren't Jewish. They could have been though, and what about me? I could be Jewish. Or I could be married to someone Jewish. How the fuck does she know? Do I have FUCK DRADELS tattooed on my back? And beyond all that, WHAT THE FUCK DO THE SOULS OF JEWISH PEOPLE HAVE TO DO WITH YOUR DREAM?
...sigh. Thankfully, the woman left after that. But no, my letter still wasn't there.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
A Boy's Dream
If saying that I've been obsessed with Australia my entire life is hyperbole, it isn't far off. I've wanted to go there... to live there since I was 7 or 8 years old.
I come from the kind of town where people are born, they live and they die without ever leaving. New Orleans is only 20 minutes and a river crossing away, yet even that seems too far for some of them. They don't know how big the world is, and they could care less. But for as long as I can remember, I've wanted to see the world. Scotland, Japan, China, Italy... but for whatever reason, Australia has always intrigued me most.
I love the idea of Australia. As a child, the story of its settlement conjured images of a country teeming with outlaws, like stories of the Wild West, but here and now. Even now, in my mind's eye its spirit still feels a little wild and untamed; a vast beautiful land waiting for me to explore it. It enraptured me. Maybe it was how cool Crocodile Dundee seemed. Or it could be the crush that I still have to this day on Olivia Newton John. Or the constant episodes of Looney Tunes that led me to write a Second Grade report on the tiny island the Tasmanian Devil supposedly came from. That report actually earned me a chance to talk about Tasmania on a local television station.
I haven't made it to Australia. There's always been life or time or money between us. It sits at the top of a list of unfulfilled dreams that I will not rest without.
Send me to Australia. Send me away to the Beaches and Reefs. I'll ride horses in Cairns. I'll brave the rapids of the Tully River. I'll trek across Fraser Island on an ATV and cruise the beaches of Surfer's Paradise on the back of a Harley. You'll probably even get to see me crash and burn on a surf board at Coffs Harbour. I want to ride and surf. I want to delve into the country and take in all it has to give.
There's an image in my mind. It's me and my Nikon exploring a world I've only dreamt of. This is an adventure; the kind I've imagined since I was a boy. It comes only as a close second to finding true love or driving an Aston Martin. I can promise you, no one would appreciate this opportunity more than I would. This isn't just a vacation, it's the journey of a lifetime and a story I've waited my whole life to write.
Send me to Australia.
And if you don't... that's okay too. I'll just have to do it on my own.
Send me to Australia.
And if you don't... that's okay too. I'll just have to do it on my own.
Friday, July 8, 2011
Last Train to the Stars
I've been a little sad for the last few weeks leading up to today. Not steadily, but enough. When I lived in Florida, Cape Canaveral was just a stone's throw away. I'd always intended to see one of the Space Shuttle launches, but for whatever reason, I never got around to it. Now I never will.
July 8, 2011. The Space Shuttle Atlantis, STS-135 is the last shuttle into space.
Maybe I'm being overly sentimental, but the exploration of Space represents the best of humanity. It is the pinnacle of all we hope to achieve, the symbol for what we can do with determination, ingenuity and faith.
Seeing it end is a crushing blow.
There's certainly more important things for the US to do with it's money, such as paying off our massive debt. Yet I'd hate to see this as the end.
I've heard some talk about NASA having a future if we privatize space exploration. I don't fully understand how that works, but I support it. Federal space exploration is no longer a viable option.
The only way to achieve greatness, is to reach for it. Maybe someday we'll see the stars again.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
Before I Sleep...
You may have heard this rant before, but I hate the term "Bucket List". Maybe it's because it's too kitschy for my taste, or more likely because taking the term from a Hollywood buddy movie rubs me the wrong way. But whatever you call it, it's always good to have goals.
Not too long ago I wrote a (mostly) joking list of Nerd-things to do before I die. And I have made lists like this in the past. One of my big goals was to jump off of a waterfall. In truth, I didn't exactly do that one, but I did climb 40 feet up a cliff of solid lava rock in Hawaii and then jump off of it into the Pacific Ocean. I am never doing that again, so I'm crossing the waterfall one off my list. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.
(Yeah, THAT.)
So here's my list in no particular order.
1) Travel to Australia and Scotland. Lifelong dreams unaccomplished.
2) Got to Club 33 in Disneyland, THE most exclusive restaurant in Disney History. Only a handful of people have ever been inside it. Here is one lucky person's accounting.
3. Talk to one of my writing heroes, such as JMS or Whedon.
4. Get some artwork from one of my favorite artists, such as Jim Lee, JH Williams, Tony Harris or Ryan Ottley.
5) Bro-out in Vegas with my friends. (because really-- why not??)
6. Write at least one novel and a book of a different nature. I'm not sure anyone would want to read my memoirs, but if I ever got back to work on my Disney adventures, that might be publishable.
7. Hot foreign girl. Nuff said.
8. Take my motorcycle across the Florida keys.
9) Drive across country.
10) Truly help someone who needs it.
11) Drive a Nascar racer. (Fortunately the Richard Petty Experience at WDW does indeed offer this opportunity.)
12. Go white water rafting on the Colorado River (something I am currently planning to do in the (relatively) near future.
13. Own a business.
Not too long ago I wrote a (mostly) joking list of Nerd-things to do before I die. And I have made lists like this in the past. One of my big goals was to jump off of a waterfall. In truth, I didn't exactly do that one, but I did climb 40 feet up a cliff of solid lava rock in Hawaii and then jump off of it into the Pacific Ocean. I am never doing that again, so I'm crossing the waterfall one off my list. MISSION ACCOMPLISHED.
(Yeah, THAT.)
So here's my list in no particular order.
1) Travel to Australia and Scotland. Lifelong dreams unaccomplished.
2) Got to Club 33 in Disneyland, THE most exclusive restaurant in Disney History. Only a handful of people have ever been inside it. Here is one lucky person's accounting.
3. Talk to one of my writing heroes, such as JMS or Whedon.
4. Get some artwork from one of my favorite artists, such as Jim Lee, JH Williams, Tony Harris or Ryan Ottley.
5) Bro-out in Vegas with my friends. (because really-- why not??)
6. Write at least one novel and a book of a different nature. I'm not sure anyone would want to read my memoirs, but if I ever got back to work on my Disney adventures, that might be publishable.
7. Hot foreign girl. Nuff said.
8. Take my motorcycle across the Florida keys.
9) Drive across country.
10) Truly help someone who needs it.
11) Drive a Nascar racer. (Fortunately the Richard Petty Experience at WDW does indeed offer this opportunity.)
12. Go white water rafting on the Colorado River (something I am currently planning to do in the (relatively) near future.
13. Own a business.
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