November 2006
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Thursday, 11-30-6
I listen to a podcast called "The One Minute How-To". They have various topics that people try to give 60 seconds of info about. I just started listening to this about two or three weeks ago so I'm catching up on old shows. One of the early ones was "How to order at Starbucks". Well, you all know how I feel about that place and those people but I sat up and listened, waiting to see what the story is. Of course before it even started I was thinking, "You shouldn't need a tutorial to order coffee!" But I'll listen anyway. Maybe I'm missing something about the whole Starbucks experience. Maybe it's ME that's wrong. It's easy to pick on the trendy Starbucks crowd, everyone does it. Is it possible that in my attempt to avoid the trends, I have joined the trend to Starbucks-bash? Maybe I'll turn over a new leaf. Maybe I'll join the Starbucks crowd. Is it possible that what this guy has to say could revolutionize my thinking and negate my inherent hatred of the vacant-minded trenders?
Two seconds into the guy's spiel and I already don't like the sound of his voice. Ten seconds in and he's gaining momentum. 30 seconds in and he's running full-bore and his words are starting to run together. This guy has had too much coffee! After his 60 seconds are up, I am more convinced that the end of the world will be brought about by some asshole carrying a Starbucks cup. Not some suspicious Muslim, not some crazed Russian, not some power-mad Army General, but Todd and Gina the soccer parents, with kids named Dakota or River or Brandon. I don't know how they'll do it but mark my words; Armageddon will be caused by something that only requires one hand. The other hand will be holding an "Iced vente mocha-raspberry tazo chai latte with extra foam and with room."
Maybe that one-handed task will be something simple, like driving a car. Who needs two hands or full concentration for that? This morning, my FAA rep (Steve) was hit from behind at the off ramp. He looks in the rear view mirror and there's some moron trying to juggle a cell phone and a coffee while driving. Now I am guilty of "multi-task-driving" myself. I have the coffee (home brewed, not Starbucks) every morning. I take cell phone calls while driving. I click over to the next podcast on my iPod. But I do all of these things when there's room and time. There are days that I don't get to the coffee until it's cold because traffic was too heavy for me to safely drink the coffee. I wait until I'm on the highway and with no cars in my immediate area before I start rooting around in my iPod for a specific song. And if the cell phone rings and traffic is anything more than freerunning, I'll just let the call go to voice mail. I thought everyone did this. Are there really people out there that think the car is driving itself? Your car is not an office. Drive the car, worry about the other stuff when you have time. If you didn't plan ahead enough to allow for time, then tough shit, do without!
Wednesday, 11-29-6
I hear you all yelling, "No fair, all you did was vent, yell and scream about some poor woman and you called her horrible things!!!"
OK, you're right. I was really upset last night and I never got to the trip report. I was still tired and now Becca and I are both sick. She's on chicken soup and Children's Motrin, I'm on Ginger Brandy. We'll see who gets better first. Anyway, last night I crashed early because I knew, come 5:30am, sick or not I still had to drag my tired ass out of bed to get to work. So thanks for putting up with my venting and now I'll tell you all about our little trip to Pennsylvania. Because I was such a bad guy last night, I'll add in some pictures as I go. Click on them to see the full-sized shot. I'm not too sure how well they'll post as I have about a half of the bottle in me right about now. For medicinal purposes only you know... So, there's not much to tell but here goes:
We started out Tuesday around noon. I loaded up the car and picked Becca up from school. It felt kind of weird, I just put all of our gear in the back of the truck (which included multiple handguns) and then pulled up right in front of her school. When I went in and asked for her, they called her classroom and had her on her way down without even asking for my ID. I had to volunteer my ID. Her teachers know me but the people in the front office don't know me. I could have been anybody and I could have had a gun. I signed (my real name) into the book and when Becca came into the front office, the lady that was behind the desk was in the next room. Becca and I left without any notice from anyone. Kind of scary how easy it is for the bad guys.
Anyway, no problems yet. We pick up Teresa from her school and off we go. The weather was beautiful until we hit Brunswick Georgia about an hour later. It rained all the way to the Virginia/W.Virginia line. Most of the rain was HARD rain too. Coming down sideways, the wind blowing the car all over the road. Traffic was running at 20-40MPH the whole way. It lightened up for a few minutes here and there. At one point in South Carolina, Teresa looks out and says it looks like we are at the beach, everything is all sandy. As she looks closer, the sand is actually snow. We didn't believe it at first but there were a few roofs that had a thin coating and the slush started piling up on the road. The snow was laying-in in the woods and some parts of the side of the road. I'm sure it was gone a few minutes later because the rain just kept coming down harder and harder. It's the only snow we saw the entire trip. We did see plenty of frost and ice, but no snow.
The rain was hard but it was cold too. Every time we stopped I wished I had my jacket on. It was right there in the back of the truck but I was already wet and didn't bother to get it. While we were on the way up, I had another of my great ideas that turned to shit. Why don't we stop at every state and get a picture of Becca in front of the "Welcome to ..." sign? Wouldn't that be cool? We already missed Georgia and South Carolina but we happened to stop for tacos right on the border of North and South Carolina. We got the shot of her in front of the South Carolina sign and then ran across the road to get the shot in front of the North Carolina sign. Did I mention it was raining hard and very, very cold out? Well Becca is a good sport about it all and even when we crossed the median and her shoe filled with water, she didn't get too upset. The truck headlights weren't on this sign so I couldn't get a good shot of her with the sign. The flash wiped her out completely and I only got the sign. Just after I snapped the shot, a huge truck came by and threw a puddle all over Becca. We ran back to the truck and by the time we got there, Becca's teeth were chattering. We didn't bother waking her up for the rest of the signs on the way up. We got a couple on the way back but we decided it just wasn't going to work. So much for good ideas.
After the rain let up, we were in West Virginia. If you've never been there, it's like they took all the roads, twisted and jumbled them together and threw them on top of some mountains. Not the worst driving conditions in the world but bad-assed enough for this city-boy. Actually, the roads themselves are in excellent condition. No potholes, no damage of any kind. At least along the highways. I took the entire W.Virginia turnpike doing 80 the whole way. Doesn't sound very impressive until you do it. If it were raining or if there was snow on the ground, I probably would have been doing 40 or even slower.
Because of the rain, the trip took forever. 18 hours up and we only stopped for gas and potty breaks with minimal down time. The longest stop we made was 20 minutes for Teresa to get her "Jack In The Box" tacos. I'm still trying to get Becca to understand the rules to a road trip. The potty breaks are determined by the driver's bladder, not the passengers... It wasn't too bad, we got to the house around 6am. I was happy to be out of the truck. Between the rain and the mountains I wasn't able to use the cruise control at all. 997 miles of constant driving pressure. I got a great picture of Teresa snoring in the passenger seat. She said she'd kill me if I put it up here. Teresa drove her fair share but even so, my right leg felt like it was run over by a cement truck. As much as it hurt, I was glad to feel anything at all. The pain in my lower back had me thinking I was paralyzed. I said hello and went straight back to the spare bed. My body had just about had it with everything and I needed sleep, NOW! After about 5 hours of hard sleep I got up and visited with Jerry. Teresa and Becca woke up about an hour later.
The nights were cold but the days were in the 50s and 60s. We came in between two cold fronts. If we had come the week earlier or one week later, we would have had the snow and freezing cold. It was beautiful weather, just not the winter wonderland Teresa was looking for. I've been up there almost every year since 1990 and this was only the second year I remember that we didn't have snow on Thanksgiving.
Oh well, Teresa will have the snow soon enough, we did a lot of talking and networking while we were up there and the plan seems to be that we are looking to be up there before the next school year starts. Still a lot of talk and no definite plans have been made yet but it looks like the time has come. I'm looking into some nice property and Teresa is still looking into dropping a trailer on Jerry's front acreage. I agreed to live in a trailer only if we parked a new one on top of a full basement. Kim would like that, she'll get to call me the 'trailer trash' now... One of my other stipulations is that I get to build a garage/shed that is bigger than the house. Big enough for my tools, room to work and a large area to build out and soundproof as my sound studio. She agreed but we'll see how long that lasts. I'm betting that we'll get up there and I'll be storing my crap in boxes for years.
While we were up there, we were reminded that many of the people we know are old and when they pass, someone gets the property. Not a pleasant thought but a real enough fact. Teresa was shook up over this because it was her favorite uncle (Uncle Dick) telling her this and he never takes care of his health. I was shook up because although I don't want to think about him dying, I REALLY don't want to think about inheriting his animals!
He's got chickens (dinner), goats (drum heads), cats (...) and three large dogs. The dogs are like people around his house. That's a good thing but it also means that they get what they want. They are Springer Spaniels just like our Luna. In fact that's where we got her. Rosebud and Jake are Luna's parents and JC is her brother. These dogs are really cool but spoiled. They wait their turns for their food but they eat whatever Dick is eating. He'll cook up a whole roast, eat a few bites and then feed the rest to the dogs. Mashed potatoes, carrots, whatever is on the stove. Jake eats first, then Rosebud and then the puppy. With just a word, Dick gets them to sit and wait for the other to be done. When they get treats, Rosebud will get one, take it over to Jake and drop it in front of him and then go back to get one for herself. The puppy gets his own. Cute but they tear up whatever furniture he has and the floors are completely covered in mud. Not going to happen in my house. My dogs are very much a part of the family but there are rules for every member of the family and the dogs don't eat at the table and they don't get to chew everything up with impunity. But he loves them and they are lovable dogs. Hopefully Dick will live forever and we won't have to train the dogs to be dogs and not people...
Much of the time we spent up there was driving around looking at the sites and visiting with friends and relatives. We kept teasing Teresa about getting her car dirty. Most of the roads we were on up there were not paved. Some of them were just one lane paths through the state game-lands. We tried to explain to her that if she wants to have a 'pretend' SUV, she has to get it off the road and dirty once in a while. Otherwise it's a glorified soccer-mom grocery-getter. We never got it REAL dirty but there was enough mud on the doors to make her nervous. I had soooo many opportunities to have fun and spin it out, but I decided not to get her too upset. I could spend hours just driving (and we did) with no direction and enjoying the scenery. Actually, I'd rather ride through on a horse but that isn't going to happen any time soon. My niece Lizzy is into horses. They have a miniature and a real horse. Her picture was in the paper while we were up there, she and some friends had ridden their horses into town to the Dairy Queen and someone made a story out of it. I told her if she could get me a Belgian or an English Squire I'd ride with her. If I ever get a horse, I want a big big BIG one. One that, when the truck gets stuck in the mud or snow, my horse could pull it out. When we want to move the trailer off of the foundation and build a house, we just hitch up the horse and pull the trailer down. A giant fucker of a war-horse. Cousin JR said he knows where there's a Clydesdale for sale in Delaware.
We didn't get much hunting in this year. Didn't really matter. What hunting we did get was just walking in the woods. Everything was still and quiet. We saw a grouse go out in front of us but it was too far to get a clean shot. No rabbits and no other birds. We saw plenty of deer but buck season didn't start until the next Monday. Some of the deer we spotted at night and they were staying with 50 yards of the truck. We visited the bison ranch and the elk ranch. They cut all the antlers off of the elk just before buck season opens to keep any moron hunters from shooting an elk just because it had horns. On one of the farms we saw something that looked like a sci-fi version of a dog. They're calling it an Australian long-hair cow. Jerry says these things are great in the snow. Icicles hanging down to the ground, they look like a miniature woolly mammoth.
We played plenty of poker. I had a great seven or eight minutes and then the bottom dropped out. I lost around four dollars playing 3-penny poker. I just never had the cards. Over the next two nights I won back almost all of it but still wound up about 50 cents down. My biggest mistake was sitting next to Teresa when we played. We kept getting the comments like we were in the game together. "You raise, I'll drop, honey". The house money may be together, what's mine is hers, what's hers in mine and all that, but never is poker money OURS. My poker money and her poker money are strictly separate and we never dip into each other's bags. Just my own personal house rules man. A few years ago we were playing a friendly game and when I started to get low on chips, a really nice lady we know passed me a handful of chips and said, "Here, just keep playing". I almost had a stroke. I thanked her for the offer but I kept the chips separate and made sure they made it back to her. Poker money is sacred man. Win or lose, it's just a few bucks but its wrong to not account for your playing.
Before too long, it was time to drive home. This time it only took 16 hours and we still stopped at "Jack In The Box" on the way back. Teresa said she's never eating breakfast again. That's a really big deal up there and every morning, her father would cook eggs, sausage and potatoes or we'd go out to get breakfast. I loved it. While breakfast is never my favorite meal, Jerry cooks it up and it's so good... We were out and about most of the day so breakfast might be the only meal you have for a long time. Teresa hates breakfast. On the weekends we wait to go out until 11am so I can get breakfast and she'll wait for lunch. She almost screamed when she heard about another tradition we have when we go hunting. The weekend before buck season opens, the fire house has a pancake and sausage dinner. She was dreading a full day of nothing but breakfast foods. Lucky for her, the fire house didn't have the dinner this year. Another broken tradition.
We had a lot of fun but now it's time to look at jobs, businesses and houses. It's time to get real about this. Going up there for a week is fun and we have no responsibilities while we're up there. We both moved to Florida from the north with our parents when we were still in school. A heavy snow meant we got to stay home from school. Now it will mean we have to dig the car out and still get to work! Packing the house shouldn't be too bad if we can get rid of a lot of the stuff we don't use. So, that's the stage we're at. The dreaming is over and now it's time to drop the clutch and get it into gear. We're going to go, and soon at that. I'll miss a lot of my friends and family. Not all of them though, I hear Zephyr might be moving to a farm in Ohio, that's not too far away so we'll get to see her occasionally. That'll be nice. And we still plan to come down her at LEAST twice a year for festivals, vacations, visiting with family... We go to Pennsylvania a few times a year, we'll just have to make the reverse trip now back to Florida a few times a year. I'd like to stay here but I felt it in my bones while we were up there, I belong up there. Maybe not specifically THERE, but somewhere new, somewhere colder, somewhere else.
Tuesday, 11-28-6
I'd love to jump right in and tell you how the trip went but I can't. I was so exhausted yesterday I didn't write a thing, figuring I'd write something up tonight. That was silly. Now I have 24 hours of the normal bile sitting on top of the trip report. So, like a rocket that has to burn off all the bulk fuel so it can climb into higher orbit and burn clean, I have to spew my BS before I can get to the cool stuff.
I went in to work this morning all happy-like. I was ready to get back to work and get some stuff finished up before we close out the year. Lucky for me, this week's work is at Mayport so I'll be home all week. Heffner is already in town and started the installation on Monday so we should be just about ready to get all the testing done this morning.
So much for optimism. Heffner came over the house last night and we all went out to dinner together. In between the goofyness and fun, he told me that the usual "if it can go wrong; it will" mode has plagued our recent install here in town. The week looks like it's going to be a long one and I haven't even started yet. But, they don't call us the "A" team for nothing, Heffner and I have solved and completed a lot of stuff that other teams have walked away from. If anyone can get this done, we can.
So, with the idea that we are once again going to save the day, I set out toward Mayport this morning thinking that everything was going to be alright. WRONG!
Before I go any further, you should know that I have nothing but love and respect for people that serve in the military. Much of my family and many of my friends were military at one point and I because I never was, I make sure I try not to say anything that might sound like I'm down on the whole thing. That being said, I fucking HATE having to go on to military bases!!! Dealing with these people at the gates and pass centers is like dealing directly with Satan. They know what buttons to push and they will hit it over and over and over... My own personal Hell will have these people there waiting for me and every morning I spend in Hell, before I go through the fiery gates to be tortured and burned, I'll have to sign in and deal with these dumb fucking morons that have nothing better to do than waste my time.
We fight the traffic and get into the visitor center on time. We meet Steve (our FAA rep) and get in line. We each have our two forms of ID, registration and insurance cards at the ready. I'm Mr. Efficiency, I want to be prepared. We get up to the window and Heffner presents the letter that shows we are coming on base and who authorized it. The lady tells me to go back in line and wait for the next window. We explain that we're both listed on the same letter. She still wants me to wait. Even from the line, I can hear that there is a problem with access. The guy that signed the pass for us to get in is supposed to be standing here. Heffner and Steve explain that it worked just fine yesterday and for a whole week last month. The lady says she'll have to make some phone calls.
OK, the person at the other window is done and the lady behind that window calls me. You should know the situation before we go on much further. There are only two windows open. Heffner is at one and now I'm at the other. It is 7am on a week day, there is a line of nine or ten people behind me. Holding up both windows with the same problem doesn't sound like a good idea to me. The lady is sitting two feet from the lady dealing with Heffner. She asks for my IDs and I give her the documents. Now she asks who my sponsor is. Of course I can't hear her, she's behind two inch bullet-proof glass and speaking in some dialect that I presume may be English but it is too muddled in Spanish for me to tell. I finally figure out what she is asking and explain that it's on the paper at the next window. Rather than have me step aside and deal with the next person in line, or have me step next to Heffner and have us both at the same window (like I wanted to do in the first place) she decides this is a good time to relax and sit back in the chair, waiting on the other lady to deal with the issue. I can hear the other lady on the phone, she's really not too concerned with getting anywhere with this. Neither of these idiots is very concerned with the growing line behind me. After a bit of chatter, some laughing about a lady named Susan and catching up on what the family is doing for Christmas, I hear the lady hang up. Access isn't going to happen without the sponsor signing us in.
OK, I can get with that. Actually, I prefer that. It could have been anyone's signature on that letter. The idea that I could have my Mommy write a note for me to get on to a major military installation didn't make any sense to me, hell, it scares me!. I mean once we finally got in, I was right there by ten or more Navy ships and only 30' or less from the ship's hulls. I could throw a beer bottle and hit it I was so close. So while I agree with their heightened sense of security, I didn't appreciate the indignant attitude with which it was announced. The lady was a bitch. I don't know if it was divine right or infernal command that gave her the power but some supernatural force took hold and she went from carefree loser to hardcore superbitch in mere seconds. It was like we were the morons that held up the line which they NOW have decided to notice. Hey lady, its how we were told to do it. It worked yesterday, why would we do anything different? After hearing a little bit of shit from these two harpies, Steve steps in and says that he's retired military and can he sign us in? They sigh, like we should have done this all along and instead of just putting aside the papers they were working on, she balls up the pass, throws it over her shoulder and mumbles something about, "Now I have to start all over because you didn't have the right form..." It's a damn good thing they have her behind bullet-proof glass. It's just about now that I notice just how ugly this lady is. I never noticed before but now that she's pissed me off to the point that I want to remove her spleen with an olive fork, I can't look away. She's one of those people that have the "drawn on" eyebrows. I guess they slipped and cut her real eyebrows off while they were shaving down her hairy-monkey face and teaching her to walk erect. With every word she mumbled I wanted to tear through the glass, grab her pointy ears with my bleeding hands and scream into the dirty, scar-ridden face of this Orc-bitch, "YOU LAZY, FUCKING, WHORE! IF YOU INSIST ON MUMBLING, DO IT IN THE LOCAL LANGUAGE! I'M NOT TRYING TO GAIN ACCESS TO EL-GENERAL-GERALDO-CONSUELO-DEL-MARTINEZ'S BASE, THIS IS A US NAVY BASE AND I EXPECT YOU TO BE A DUMB CUNT IN ENGLISH! YOU MOTHERFUCKER!!!!!" But somehow I suspected that would have been counter-productive to my gaining access so, I just stood there and bit my tongue.
Heffner has his pass and now they're working on mine. After a ten second eternity, I managed to get my pass and walk out without getting jailed. They remind us we have to go in through the contractor gate on A1A. Of course, the pass says nothing like this and Steve and Heffner say they never had to do that before. The lady gets pissy again and we go out to the trucks, assuring the lady that we'll remember. I'm 20' from the main gate but you're telling me I have to cross three lanes of heavy traffic and drive five miles to some magical gate that only allows work trucks to pass through? Yeah right, that'll happen, good luck with that. We pulled out into the main gate traffic and flowed right in. Contractor gate my big fat ass!
I don't want to be hated for the wrong reasons. I didn't imagine many horrible things happening to this lady because she was Hispanic. I vividly imagined her being eaten by rabid wolverines only because she was a bitch and for no other reason. The eyebrows, the Spanish muttering, the mini-golf acne face; they were just the footholds for me grip on to. Any port in a storm. I'm likely to use anything, no matter how trivial. Black, White, Hispanic, French, I don't care; I hate everyone equally. I'm an equal-opportunity-offender. Like I said, I don't want you to hate me for the wrong reasons; hate me for all the right reasons!!!
After arriving at the tower, we started dressing in the rest of the installation. We can't get very far because they haven't shipped any of the cables with the equipment. Yesterday, the ass-bandit in Melbourne said, "That's just not possible". Well little buckaroo, it is indeed possible and after a few installations, you'll come to realize that not only is it possible, but probable. The cables should be here by 10am.
At 9am, we see that BellSouth has not delivered the T1's yet. Their records show that they have, but we don't see them. Must be some of those really cool inviso-Ts! High-tech shit! 10:30, the cables haven't arrived. The DHL tracking says "Delivery Attempted". There's a guy at a desk waiting for our package. DHL never hit the door. Turns out, the MPs shut down a road for cross-traffic of troops or equipment or something. The DHL driver put us on the bottom of the list and moved on. That's smart, and probably what I would have done too, but damn it! I'm waiting for those cables. DHL says they'll re-attempt delivery in two hours. Bell says they'll have a tech on site for tag/locate in two hours. Time for lunch.
Steve hates McDonalds. I understand. I agree! But that's all they have right here. He drives around to the beach-side of the base and they have a Pizza-Hut and BBQ joint. After going inside, he doesn't want either of them. We drive off base to hit a Chinese buffet. While at lunch, Bob calls to dispatch me to JAX-TRACO to test back to Penny at Gainesville. Ken is coming up from Miami but I can get to her quicker. Unfortunately, Penny and her FAA rep have already figured out that Ken won't be here in time to test today and have left site, he's headed to Ocala. After a bunch of phone calls, Penny and her TOR will go back to site to test.
I get to JAX and Penny says we are on hold, our SAC tech has discovered a circuit collision (our circuit is assigned to an existing path). After an hour waiting, I finally got something done today. Heffner calls to tell me that the cables have arrived but are missing the most important cables. They will be shipped out tonight. Bell found the missing T1s. They are in building 50. We are in building 90. The Navy and the FAA are battling to see whose responsibility it is to get them moved. Building 90 is the old ATCT (Air Traffic Control Tower). The OLD one, not to be confused with the NEW one they are almost done building 100 yards away. This means that in another nine months or so, we get to do this all over again but with the extra element of LIVE TRAFFIC on the circuits. Fun shit huh? Heffner's heading back down to X68 (Space Shuttle Landing Facility) tomorrow. I'm heading to another local site until the NMO cable arrives and then I'm going back out to Mayport to face Hell once more. Could be worse, they could send me to Kentucky.
Tuesday, 11-21-6
Slept in this morning and woke up to coffee and Cinnabons delivered to the bedside. I think I could get used to this... I turned on the news and they were all excited about how cold it is. "It's 7:30 and 46 degrees out this morning and it's not going above 57 today..." They made it sound like the end of the world. What are these people acting so crazy about? It's late November and it's supposed to be cold! 46 degrees sounds about right for early morning. We're in North Florida, it gets cold here. How long have these people been living here? I could understand it being worth mentioning if we were in Miami or the Keys, but it gets chilly in Miami occasionally too. Ohhh, 46 degrees in November, what are we going to do? Must be a slow news day.
24 hours from now, I'll be about 1,000 miles north of here, where this morning it was 23 and not going above 42 for the day. I'll be there a week, I wish I could stay the entire winter. I want to be independently wealthy for so many reasons but one of the biggest is, I'd like to have multiple houses. Reverse snowbird. Live the winter up north, visit the south during the summer, live in New England during the fall... And if I were wealthy enough to have these multiple houses, Pennsylvania wouldn't be far enough north. I want something like Upper Peninsula Michigan, Baffin Island Canada, Norway. I want it cold and brutal. Of course, it's expensive to live like I want to live in those climates so, I'll have to have a boatload of money. I want a building I can live in while it's buried under 20 feet of snow. Isolated and self sufficient. That's what I want. Some people dream of a tropical drink with their toes in the sand, I dream of coffee rapidly cooling from the blizzard conditions.
Oh well, a guy can dream can't he? I'll be up there this week, standing in the woods and fantasizing about the future. Hopefully, there won't be too much fantasizing, soon it should be planning. While we're up there we'll do a little looking around but I don't expect much to get done being Thanksgiving week and all. Also, the only thing the area has to offer is plenty of hunting space so this equates to their "tourist season". The land prices soar during these few months because all the tourists think it would be cool to buy some land and visit once a year. In fact when Jerry was looking to buy the property he's on now, the price was almost double when he called from a 904 area code. When he had his brother (who lives ten miles away) call, the price was much more reasonable. So, our plan is to look around this week and get a feel for the availability in all the areas. This summer, Teresa will go up there for a few weeks and make the calls. If the right property presents itself we'll get it. If not, she'll get the perk test done on the front end of Jerry's property and we'll drop a trailer on it until the right property makes itself known. By the end of summer, we'll either have the right land or a place to park ourselves until we do have it. If things go as planned, I don't see us being here in Florida through next winter... or so I hope.
Thursday, 11-16-6
My grandmother passed last night. My father called this morning to tell us the news. I haven't talked to Mom yet but they just made a visit up here to basically say their goodbyes so I'm hoping my mother isn't hurting too much.
I have a lot of fond memories of her from when she lived in Connecticut. To this day, every time I smell bacon I think of her kitchen. Last weekend I cooked 24 pounds of bacon and the whole time I was thinking of the gasoline company (Sunoco?) clock above the green refrigerator filled to the brim with Pepsi and the metal-rimmed table in my grandmother's kitchen.
She had huge willow trees in her yard and I used to hang from the branches. There was an old well under one of the trees and I used to jump on the rotten wood covering it (because I didn't know it was a well at the time) and once, it broke through and I held on to the side while my cousin ran to get my uncle to drag me out. There was an old outhouse on the side of the barn and it always had wasps in it. There were a few dogs but the only one I remember is Larry. It was a sloped-back broken black and white dog that we used to play with. A man we called Uncle Louie pulled up in his Cadillac. He always wore a green jumpsuit and smoked fat cigars that he used to put out in the plaid bean-bag ashtrays. I left my "1984" cassette on the trunk of his car once and the next time I went over there, she asked me about Van Heflin. I had no idea who he was and thought she was mispronouncing Van Halen. She had no idea they were a band and thought I was mispronouncing the actor... Grandma Franklin's Christmas tree was always the sharp, prickly type and always had a ton on tinsel on it. I remember it was the first time I had seen moving ornaments like flickering candles and revolving dancers.
I remember a lot more too but those memories changed when we moved to Florida. I had hit that stage when I didn't visit with anyone and was very much an isolationist. By the time I had grown out of that (still waiting) enough to want to reconnect with family, it was too late. She lived a mile and a half from me for years and I only saw her four or five times a year. I'd pop in and say hello, normally bringing Becca with me. Never stopping by on the big holidays when everyone is obligated to visit, I only stopped for no reason other than to visit. Or maybe I felt that guilt tearing at me, asking why I wasn't over there once a week. And the reason was always there, but it comes to light today. I can remember her with a smile in my heart. I don't have a lot of memories of her sitting there sad and waiting for the end. She put up with a lot of unpleasantness in her later years. Every time we stopped by it seemed she was getting sadder and sadder, more and more distressed. She had her comforts and my Uncle took care of her very well. She was always lucid and was always in that chair but it just seemed she was not there. My visits never seemed to cheer her up any. She was always happy to see Rebecca but other than that, it seemed that we were just another non-event is a series of non-events. And it made me sad for her every time I saw it.
When someone dies, they use the phrase "rest in peace". I think this time it is very applicable. After taking care of everyone for so long, she deserves peace, she deserves rest. Goodnight Grandmother, safe journey to the other side.
Wednesday, 11-15-6
Today... well, today just sucked. Outright and totally sucked. And not all of it was my fault. Some of it was but not all.
This morning I had two pieces of pizza left over from Monday night. I looked at them and then I looked at the toaster. It made perfect sense to put the two pieces together (crust side out obviously), turn the toaster on its side, and cook the pizza. Turn it on its side because if I left the pizza standing upright it would sink into the toaster. See, I was thinking! What I didn't think about how fast cheese can bubble up and drip out onto the coils. I had to put the toaster outside the hotel room until it stopped smoking.
Something happened to the coffee and it looked like weak iced tea. I didn't have time to make any more because of the toaster incident so I took one of the cups and poured a big glass of flat Coke.
I went to work and the sun was directly in my eyes. Traffic on the bridge was bad so I was careful to leave plenty of room so I wouldn't hit anyone. Of course, that looked like an invitation to cut in front of me. We're moving at about 25mph and this guy swings in front of me just as the guy that was in front of me hits his brakes. We go from 25 to 0 and I barely had room to stop. Of course, the Coke goes all over my leg and the steering wheel.
I'm working on circuits with another tech who is at another site. Her cables are messed up and she has to re-label them. After about two hours of fighting every bit of equipment we have, she says, "oh yeah, I re-labeled this one already, it's not the right cable." She switches to the right cable and we're good to go. Then the FAA guy tells me that three circuits that were tested about a year ago are no good and need to be re-pinned. I fight my way through the cable jungle and identify where the problems are. It turns out that one of the five cables involved is bad and needs to be replaced. I feel like I've run a marathon because the cables, the equipment and the guard shack are all on three different floors and I have to go back and forth to each of them about a million times.
I get back to the hotel tonight and I am feeling particularly shitty. A little sick to my stomach and a major headache. I go to wash my face and as I turn on the water a cockroach the size of a Volkswagen runs out of the drain and into the sink. I generally prefer these 'extended stay' type of hotels. The ones that have a kitchen and they don't come into your room every day to make the bed. I don't like them coming in and throwing out the soap and folding over the toilet paper every morning. Now I have to open a new bar of soap because they want to make things look pretty. What a waste. Anyway, there's a bad combination when you add a full kitchen and irregular room cleaning. You get bugs. So here this one is staring at me from the sink and I grab the towel. I snap the towel down and whip him good. Funny thing about whip action, it comes back toward you after the snap. I feel the bug hit my forehead and tangle in my hair. I start jiggling my fingers in my hair and it only seems to make things worse. By the time it falls out and hits the ground, I am fighting back the urge to gag.
I don't know why today was so bad. It's exactly one year ago today that we lost the ARTCCs and my job became 100% travel. I said I'd do it for a few weeks, maybe a month or two. Things weren't so bad but now they are taking a turn for the worse. I'm not teamed up with Heffner any more and we are drying up the southern Florida sites. Maybe this means we'll move up to north Florida? I don't know but I've been on the road for a year now and I think it sucks. It's lonely out here on the road and it is depressing. If I had nothing to look forward to at home, this would be the perfect job for me. I'd love this if I didn't have a life. But I have a home, a family and a few friends. I am tired of being away. I am tired of being alone. I am tired of being unavailable. I am just... fucking... tired.
Tuesday, 11-14-6
I purposely try to avoid names on here. If it's someone I'm real familiar with I might use their name but even then I often try not to. It's just a matter of knowing how easily information can be found and used against you. You'll see Teresa and Becca all the time. I used to avoid using Zephyr's name because I KNOW she has people checking up on her. She thought I was just being a jerk my omitting her name from my blogs. Occasionally I'll mention others by name, but never in a way that locks them down to any time/place. I don't want to blow anyone's alibi. Besides, half of you know who I'm talking about from the context and the other half that don't, what good's a name going to do you?
I could write something as simple as "Chuck and I went to the store" and then Chuck's wife calls him and asks why he told her that he didn't go to the store with me, he said that he went to the store with Bob. Now Chuck is getting a divorce from his wife because she can't trust him, he's mad at me for listing it on my blog, she's all happy with me because I was so honest. So happy in fact that now she's coming on to me, telling me about the crush she's had on me but never acted on it because of Chuck. Now Teresa is wondering why I'm hanging out with Chuck's ex-wife so much. Teresa hires a private investigator and while he doesn't find anything inappropriate, he gets injured falling from the neighbor's roof trying to get pictures of me in a compromising position with Chuck's ex. All she was doing was returning the wedding gift Teresa and I gave them. She leans over and kisses me on the cheek but the PI gets so excited thinking that he finally caught me that he leaned over too far and fell off the roof and snapped his neck. The PI sues the neighbor, the neighbor knows why he was up there and now he won't let his kid play with Becca anymore. Becca's angry because she lost her best friend, Teresa's mad at me for kissing another woman, I'm mad at Teresa for not trusting me. And there you have it: two broken homes and a broken neck, all because I didn't change it to, "A friend and I went to the store"
Monday, 11-13-6
By now, you are wondering if I am back, if I had a good week and if I am feeling any better. I'm not sure I have complete answers to any of those. Physically, yes, I am back. Mentally, I'm never ready to leave festival and I try to stay in that head-space for as long as possible.
I had an acceptable week; very much a Clint Eastwood week. Some things were good, some were bad and some were downright ugly.
Am I any better? In a way, yes. I'm not so sure I understand the answers I got this week. I'm not so sure I want to hear the answers I got this week. At this point, I'll settle for being in a better mental state and having a bevy of data to sort through and ponder upon. I asked myself questions, I got flooded with data, now I just need to decipher them into answers.
For those of you who don't know what I did this week:
Twice a year I attend Phoenix Festivals. Once in the spring, once in the fall. It is a gathering of pagans or pagan-friendly people. They have workshops and rituals, a chance to share and learn with others. There is a row of vendors selling their wares. Overall, it's a great opportunity to visit with and hang out with many people that want to find the same thing you are looking for. Some claim to have found it, others know that they never will. For me, it's the search that is important.
So, people come from all around (some from as far as Texas, W.Virginia, Kansas, Washington, Alaska, Afghanistan) to camp in the woods and visit with each other. I started going in 1999 and when they moved to the new site in 2004, I joined on as kitchen staff. The kitchen was originally designed to feed staff (20-30 people?) and the rest of the campers either cooked for themselves or ate at the land-owners kitchen. The new site didn't have a kitchen so we built one and have been doing our best to feed not only staff, but the masses, ever since. It gets a little better each time. The first few were scary. I didn't think we'd get through it. Cooking out of pans and coolers for that many people... I just wasn't prepared for that. Plus, I had just come from a commercial kitchen where there was plenty of storage and two 4x6 flat grills with dual side burners. I didn't know what I was doing or how to make things work out here. This kitchen will not run like a regular kitchen and it took me two or three events to figure that out.
This time, the kitchen was sickening like a horror movie. We are cooking outdoors at the end of a pole-barn, no walls whatsoever. The property has horses on site. Put the two together; the flies were EVERYWHERE! We think we put together the pattern; in spring the flies are normal, in fall the flies are insane. We'll have to figure something out by next fall. I remember a family cook-out at my aunt/uncle's house. They lived a mile or so from a chicken farm and any time you had food outside, the flies covered it. You had to jump in the pool to get away from the flies. It's all I could think of every time I stepped back into that kitchen this weekend. We tried an old-wives remedy by hanging plastic bags of water from the roof. (It is supposed to scare away the flies) That didn't work. The two large industrial fly strips were full in less than five minutes. The best attempt was after lunch they decided to hang 10 or 12 regular fly strips from the roof. It looked like a scene from a B-horror flick, strips of drying flesh hanging from the rafters and all. When we came back for dinner, we noticed dead flies were falling from the ceiling on top of us. It was hilarious. Sick but funny as hell.
So I've figured out the kitchen but I'm still learning about people. I've found that the microcosm of pagans is just like that of the general population. You will find people that are petty and vicious, loving and open, honest, thieving, angry, pacified, selfish, altruistic and any other human trait you look for. We pagans are just like you. (I've had LONG discussions with friends about the viability of any act to be considered truly altruistic so don't gig me there, I was just making a point) Being pagan did not turn me into a fluffy-bunny. I am still a very frustrated and angry person. The opposite is also true. Because I am still an angry person does not mean I am not a pagan. Like the magickal conversion just didn't "take hold" and I somehow don't count. Oh, I know no one would ever claim me as one of theirs but I still count. Somewhere.
For me, it's the attempt at spirituality (be it Wiccan, Buddhist, Christian, Asatru, Muslum or whatever) that is making me want to control my hatred and anger. It's not the failure of any particular pantheon or even a failure of myself. If I recognize and identify it as a problem I want to solve and honestly try to control and eliminate my rage, then it is a success, no matter how slow my progress may be or which gods I invoked in the process. It's that power of belief that is my strength. One day I will be more like the people I like. Why anyone hangs around me, I'll never know.
Most (and I mean 99.999%) of the people I meet out there are people I like and want to be around more often.
A few are people that I don't understand. I used to think I didn't like them but after some thought and after digging my head out of my ego-centric ass, it turns out that I just didn't take the time to figure them out. Making decisions without enough information; stupid, but unfortunately something I am prone to do.
And then we come to the fractional percentage of people that I just don't like. Not the ones that attack you because you didn't cater to their outrageous demands. The angry mob that the bacon is over-cooked, under-cooked, sausage is too small, pancakes are burned, eggs are too yellow, grits are too gummy, too runny, why can't we have cheese grits... and on and on. There is only one or two of them at each meal but EVERY damn meal!? Their voices are starting to drown out all the people that are saying good job. The four of us work so hard in that kitchen and I'm getting tired of all the bitchy people.
Not the ones that make a poorly timed statement that makes you crazy, not even the ones that smile while they do their best to embarrass you and misquote you to the point that it is obvious they are trying to eliminate you from the collective. These people tend to be going through a phase (just like children) or are having a really, really crappy day. It doesn't excuse their behavior but I am finding that for the most part, many of these people didn't mean to piss you off and are just as shocked by the misunderstanding as you are. If they are doing it on purpose, I just do my best to avoid and to pity those people.
No, the people that I am talking about are the ones that you just don't want to be near. You get that sick, cancerous feeling when you have to be around them. The air is thick and you can feel their "wrongness" invading your lungs with every breath. Out of the hundreds of people on-site during a festival, only a handful set me off and most of the time it was my fault. The straw that broke the camel's back and all that... So I can count maybe 5 or 6 people that set me off but only two that I just want nothing to do with and neither of them did anything wrong at all. Both of them seem to be really nice people. Very friendly and no honest reason to dislike them in ANY way. For some reason, when I get around either of them, my defenses go up like a blast door and I just want to escape. Even when I don't realize they are near me I just get that creeped-out feeling, I turn around and there they are. Unfortunately, I am around them every night. One of these people is a dancer and the other is a drummer. I won't give up my only passion just because I feel uneasy around these people.
The drumming is what I live for. Everything can go wrong and I'll tell myself that "I'm done with all of this, I'm not coming back!" Then I sit down in front of the fire with my drum between my legs and the dancers start to move. Everything is right with the world again and I'll endure another day if it means I can play another night. I've gotten a total of 10 hours sleep in the last six days and my little fat sausage fingers are swollen so badly it hurts to grip anything; but if I could get in another all-nighter of drumming I would.
Someone should turn the hippy/peace aspect of drum circles into a t-shirt or a bumper sticker. Something like, "It's impossible to make a hateful fist when your hands are peacefully drumming." Ah, maybe not... Most of my ideas suck don't they? As Cartman would say, "God-damned hippies!"
The fire was strong this time. Not that it was ever wrong before but Thom just did an incredible job of building a 3' mound of embers with burning timber all around it. If I had any complaints I would say the fire was too perfect. Not enough smoke. I love that smell in my clothes when I go back to the tent. Teresa hates it and tells me to go take a shower. She was happy this time because the fire burned hot and bright with almost no smoke drifting over the people.
The dancers were great! They really got into it and it seemed they really fed off of the drummers which in turn makes us feed off of them, both of us taking from and feeding into the fire. I'm getting to know some of the dancers by their moves. Even if all I can see is the silhouette, I recognize half of the regular dancers out there. I really felt the absence of one of our dancers. She has very important matters to tend to that probably will keep her away from next festival as well but that is part of why we all love her so much. She steps up and does what she sees as right. I can't wait to see her again.
I really like that I am recognizing things in the circle that I never saw before. At times, dancers and drummers playing directly to one another, when the rhythm needs help and when the drummers need rest, fire-tenders orchestrating the evening by designing a fire. It's not just setting a log on fire; they build and shape the fire depending on the mood or sometimes the desired mood. There's a lot going on in there and I can't believe I never saw it before.
I'm considering following a friend to a couple of other festivals next year. I think it would be nice to be able to drum all night until 3 and 4am and not have to wake up at 6am. To sleep through breakfast and wake up around noon. Attend an ENTIRE drum workshop without having to get up in the middle to start cooking dinner. I look forward to seeing what that feels like.
So, overall I would say it was a very successful festival. The kitchen ran smoothly, the drumming was excellent and I got to spend some nice time with Teresa and we both got to visit with some people we don't see often enough. There were some rough spots but nothing enough to complain about. Most of them were my own fault by already being upset and then the littlest thing setting me off. Some were my fault because I was unable to figure out how to deal with the situation and the chaos. Yet others were not my fault but hey, what are you going to do? Some people will never be happy with you and when they are ready to move on, you have to let them.
MANY thanks go to my brother Jeff and his wife Trisha for watching Teresa's dog while we ran around in the woods. Teresa was so worried about her puppy that she asked me to call Jeff on Saturday to see how she was doing. I looked like I was praying to the cell-phone because I was walking around with it lifted to the sky, hoping for any trace of signal. I kept losing the signal because it kept bouncing from analog-roam to digital-roam and with almost NO signal. I got through just enough to confuse the hell out of Jeff because all he heard was a garbled voice asking about a dog. He hollered back that she was doing alright and that was enough for Teresa. When we picked her up Sunday night, they said Luna was well behaved and wasn't a problem but you know that adding another dog into the house for a week is a pain in the ass. Thanks a LOT guys, you were a big help.
Did I learn anything this week? Yes, I learned a lot. I learned about myself, I learned about others. I'm still decoding all the messages in my head. I hope in a week or two, I'll be ready to make decisions that make the changes. In any case, yes, I'm still here.
Monday, 11-6-6
Someone please help me. I am losing my mind! Oh sure, that's been happening for a long time now but it's been bigger and bigger pieces of it recently. Soon I'll have nothing left. In just the last 24-hours; Misinterpreted signals turning into a heated argument with Teresa, cursing out a drive-through speaker, getting out of the truck to yell at the driver behind me at the red-light... Eventually I'll snap at the wrong time, in front of the wrong person and I'll become a statistic.
Little things that used to just bug me are now starting to cause great pain in my head. Instead of grumbling and ignoring them, I am starting to lash out and scream. Collateral damage has ensued and I am hurting those around me. It is only during times like now, times when I can hear MY thoughts and nothing else, that I realize I am hurting the ones I love, the only ones that want to help me. In these fleeting moments of clarity, I know it is silly, useless and hurtful when I rage but when the mood strikes, logic and rational thought escape me. And they've been coming in waves now, each stronger than the last, each one striking faster and without any warning. They used to give me warning. I'd feel it coming on and I'd isolate myself the best I could. But now I'm flashing in and out, moment to moment never knowing who I am anymore. In these fitful moods, I am not myself. I say that, but it that true? Maybe I am more myself in the chaos than I am during the "quiet" times. Maybe at my core I am truly a monster and the chipped and faded mask of sanity I wear is starting to slip away.
Friday, 11-3-6
I've been out of it all for a long time now. Out of myself, looking back into a shell of what I was. Neither the past nor the future impresses me very much when I think of it in terms of my involvement with either. I have accomplished nothing and I probably never will.
Coming up next week is festival. I normally look forward to it as though it were Christmas. Counting the days and hoping it lasts forever. Not this time though. I'm afraid of it this time. I know how hard and calloused I have become in the last year and I don't want to go and find out that I am dead inside. I don't want to prove to myself that I am incapable of loving, human interaction. Very much an "ignore it and it will go away" situation.
I'm not so sure ignoring these feelings will work because somewhere, deep inside, I know that I have lost the light. And somewhere, even deeper, I know that I don't miss it. The light tricks me, dances shadows on the walls. Makes me believe and when I reach for them, the shadows move. The darkness has never lied to me. Ever-present and cold, she whispers comfort to me. No more shadows, no more lies.
Festival normally blows out all the bullshit in my head and energizes me emotionally and spiritually. The problem is that I'm not human anymore and I'm afraid that being there will only make me face it. If I didn't love the people there so much, I'd find a way to weasel out of it. I'm not sure I can handle it if I go and it turns out that I feel nothing.
I know that won't happen, but what if it does? What if I have to face the truth that I am empty? I want so much for this to start me back up but I'm so afraid that it will be the final nail in my coffin. It's not so much that I am afraid of taking the chance, it's that if I do, I could lose this forever. So, by not going, I would hang on to the shred of hope that IF I went, I would be alright again... Make any sense to you?
But, who am I fooling, I'll be there. I can't pass up the chance. I need this. (Plus, if I walked away now, they'd have to find another kitchen slave on very short notice...NOT cool!) Not only do I need this, but I want this. I want to see these people. I have grown to love them over these last years together and I don't want to pass up the opportunity to visit with them. It's like a road trip with your buddy. Sure, you see them around all the time but to just go out and be stuck together and interact with each other, it's a whole different gig from hanging out around the house. Not that I have done any 'normal' hanging out in the last year! I haven't been around.
And that's the other fear. Why the hell would these really nice people want to be around an asshole like myself? I disappear for a whole year and I'm hoping that a week in the woods (even with the greatest people on the planet) is somehow going to cure me? How stupid am I? The nagging insecurities, the same self-deprecation that I tell Teresa she shouldn't let get her down, is now crushing me. Standing on my chest, daring me to breathe.
I just decided, it's not the atmosphere, the people or the woods; it's a date. Just a date on the calendar. I have to be the one to make these changes. Going to festival is no magic cure that will make me all better, I have to be the one that decides to feel better. Am I capable? Do I want to? I'll know in a week. I'll give myself until next Sunday after camp is broken down and I am on my way home. Who am I? Where am I and where do I want to go? Things need to change and changes will take place, I just don't know which ones yet. I'll need time to think, time to decide, and there's no better place for that than where I'll be next week.
Thursday, 11-2-6
The doctors just LOVE to see us coming. We've spent everything we've got (and then some) on this latest attempt to have a baby. Becca cost us just over $20,000 just for conception and her little brother/sister looks like it is going to cost about the same. The money comes in and we just sign it over to the doctors. $250 just to walk in the door and they want to see Teresa about twice a week.
Money is running tight around here but I don't want to spend it on anything else. This is all I want and any money spent on my own selfish needs in the meantime is taking away from the babyquest. Teresa doesn't see it like that. She feels guilty because we're spending all our money on "her". She doesn't understand that this is something we BOTH want and she has my undying admiration for being the one that has to go through all of this. If I were home at nights, I'd pick up a second job to cover the costs. I've got to find something I can do while on the road. Something that will allow me to make money off of my down-time in the hotel. We've got enough to cover our normal expenses and just enough to cover the doctor's bills. I just need to make a little more so Teresa can relax and not worry about the little things.
She gets upset at me because I always say we're broke. I know we're not ACTUALLY broke but I have to keep telling myself that so I won't go out and buy things I don't need right now. I go a little overboard and now won't spend any money at all. Here's a little story about how that bit me in the ass recently.
I have a company AMEX and per diem but I normally go through $30 to $40 in cash each week. Tolls, beer/liquor, cigars, pop and candy machines, strip clubs, restaurants that don't take AMEX... lots of places to go through cash or things you don't want showing up on the company credit card statement. I normally end up clearing $75 to $100 on the per diem but I never see that money, it goes straight back into the bank. So I take $40 and bring back $80. Not a bad return but recently, I haven't been taking the $40 out because I keep telling myself we have no money. So I've been working 12 to 16 hr days with nothing to eat or drink because I don't have the cash for the machines. You'd figure I'd lose some of this weight by not eating wouldn't you? Well no, most of my day is spent sitting on my ass.
Last week I was driving back and forth between Ft. Myers and Orlando several times. There are two $0.75 tolls along the way. Just under two miles from each other! Let me pay $1.50 at the first one and skip the second toll! It's like being on the Jersey Turnpike! About the fifth or sixth time through, I realized I was out of quarters. I'd have to use the $5 bill I keep in the ashtray for such emergencies. Heffner and I always throw our change in the truck. Silver in the cup-holder (for tolls and snack machines) and pennies in the ashtray. I keep the $5 in there in case we ever run out of change. I open the ash tray and there's nothing but the pennies. I remember buying a Gatorade and a Snickers for dinner one night a few weeks back. Heffner hasn't been riding with me recently so I've been making fewer stops because it's just me: I can suffer through it. Fewer stops; less change being put in the bin. I don't carry anything in my wallet anymore (because we're broke) and the emergency fund is gone.
The toll collector was agitated. No, downright pissed would be more accurate. This was the toll closest to I-4 on 528. 4 lanes of "SunPass" and "Exact Change Only", only one lane marked "Change and Receipts". At first, she tried to tell me I couldn't use them. I told her that's all I've got. She wanted me to run the toll and pay the fine by mail. I told her that I would do no such thing (now I was getting pissed by her attitude) Pennies are still active currency and legal tender and she had to accept my payment. Not only would the fine be more than the $0.75 toll, but who is going to pay for the stamp to mail it in?! She was fuming by now and although this only took 15 seconds or so the people behind me we're pretty pissed too. I had to count out the pennies and then she had to count them out. Just around one minute overall. Not an inordinate amount of time, but if I were in line behind me, I'd sure as hell wonder what was taking so long.
I'm thinking about keeping a baggie of 75 pennies under the seat and pulling it out the next time I have a surly toll collector. This time it was purely by accident but if they get bitchy with me next time, I'm sure I can drag it out to over five minutes.
Wednesday, 11-1-6
I don't know if it's a word yet. Well, I'm sure it's a word but I don't know if it's been used in this way yet. If not, I want credit for it.
Clink: verb. A contraction of the words "Click" and "Link". As in, "Click this link to see the video" would now become, "Clink to see video".
I don't know why this entered my head. Last week I was just talking with a noob about how to navigate around in the web and I kept repeating "click this link. Now click this link..." So now, clink is a new term. Clink here to see nasty sluts that want to talk to you now! Wow!
I'm sure there are no prizes for inventing new usages of words, but at least I'll be a footnote entry in a Wikipedia entry someday. Some asshole came up with blog and blogosphere, why can't I get in on this?
I was watching VH1 tonight, watching the countdown of the "greatest" songs of the 80's. They play a clip of the song while interviewing the band or fans or whatever. The first thing that hit me was, "Oh god, please tell me I was never one of those fans." Of course, I was. But the best thing was that most of these bands and songs were classified as one hit wonders.
Some of the bands were cool about it, saying things like, "Well, it's what people want to hear, it keeps me playing music, I'll play it until people tell me to stop".
Other bands said something like, "I never liked that song but it's the one song the fans know more than any of our other songs. I play it every time".
The really funny one was the guy from "Flock Of Seagulls" who says he hates that song and hates playing it and he wishes people would stop asking for it, he's a musician, not a jukebox.
It was really funny. He was so indignant about playing the only thing that ever got him paid and laid while REM (who had other legitimate hits) were all humble and say that they'll play "End of the World" every night if people want to hear it. Flock of Seagulls, can you even name another song by them? Really? Without looking it up? Everyone knew his haircut and the one song. But he has musical integrity and doesn't want to play "I Ran" anymore. What an idiot.
Another thing the VH1 80's show taught me: Bonnie Tyler is the female Ozzy Osbourne. She sings in crystal-clear English: speaks in unintelligible gutter-British accent. It's almost like Milli Vanilli. After hearing her talk, it is hard to imagine that song coming out of her mouth. The brown-liquor/unfiltered-cigarette cackle-laugh was the topper. It's always funny to see these people once their fifteen minutes are over.
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Last Updated: 05/10/07 11:24 a