dazed and confused

stinkin' ticket

2008-07-06T01:12:00.002-05:00

I finally met a cop that wasn't a softie to a guy on a motorbike. I was giddy-upping down the road on my way to Uncle Ron's to meet up with an old friend as I exited Hwy 34 onto Cornhusker Hwy. Every time I take that off-ramp on my bike I try to take it a bit faster, lean the bike over a bit more. Seems that I took this ramp the fastest yet. I straighten out from the turn, turn on my turn-signal to move over a couple of lanes to get pass some traffic, and then coast my way to the light. Just as the light is about to turn green a cop comes up behind me with his lights on...no siren, just lights. Thinking that he is wanting past me on his way to a call, I quick pull ahead of the car next to me and get over. So does the cop. CRAP. He is looking for ME. So I pull over in the next parking lot, which just happens to be about 30 yards down the road from Uncle Ron's.

Cop: So, do you know what the speed limit is around here?
Me: fifty something?
Cop: Nope, 40MPH.
Me: Really? How fast was I going? (I thoughtI was doing 50).
Cop: You were doing 58 MPH. (for those math challenged, that is 18 over the speed limit. Correct me if I am wrong, but that is something like 10 points on a license)
Me: Really? I didn't think I could take that off-ramp so fast? Huh? Oops. Sorry about that.

Up shot is, he let me off kinda easy on that ticket. The total price is only $169, and he gave me a brochure about "Stop Class." I think I am going to take the class. It is only $80 (half the price of the ticket, but eight hours of my life completely wasted), and when I am done, the ticket (and points) are gone from my record. Yay me. I always find a way to make my life more expensive :D

not for the faint of heart or the queasy of stomachs

2008-06-23T21:29:00.003-05:00

The footage you are about to see is for mature audiences. If you have a sensitive stomach or are easily disturbed you should change the channel.

Okay, I warned you.

Some back story is required...but to lead off...I HATE Mondays. And they hate me. If we all jump into the "Way-Back" machine, we can find out why this story even takes place. Just about 17 years ago exactly I went out on a motorcycle ride with my dad and ended up spending six months on crutches due to me not being able to ride on the back. What ended up happening was that my left foot got sucked into the brand new rear tire and got stuck between the tire and the frame of the bike. Two skin grafts later, and one MAJOR miracle I was walking and running like normal. Fast forward 17 years and today starts. I show up at work and find out that the plane that I thought I had fixed on Friday, still leaked. As I was getting ready to start draining the fuel out so that I could open up its gas tank for the third time, I started to pull my tool box to the plane. Note my choice of words, "Pull." I found out the hard way why you are supposed to "Push" not "Pull" tool boxes. As I was pulling my box I didn't quite walk fast enough. There goes my heel under the box...and BRING ON THE PAIN TRAIN. The tool box ended up shaving off the scar from my heel. That, in and of itself is painful. I have experienced that before because my soccer cleats have worn off my scar. What pushes this experience over the top is that my tool box destroyed my heel as a blunt instrument. My heel is about three different shades of purple, and I might have broken a bone spur off. As I walk it feels like there something rolling around under my Achilles tendon. If my heel feels this bad by the end of work tomorrow I will be going to the doctor and having an X-ray to see the total damage. And here is the moment that you have all been waiting for. Picture proof of the damage. Enjoy the show. :)

bad boy?...or multi-tasking?

2008-06-14T19:41:00.002-05:00

So I drove up to Norfolk for the weekend for a couple of reasons. One, the weather was beautiful and it just begged for a road trip. Two, I needed to do some work on my bike that required it to be off the ground and my dad has a motorcycle jack. Three, it IS Father's Day this Sunday. And Fourthly but not lastly, my good friend Trisha Kment is changing her last name to "Cole." Which brings me to the title of my post. They (Trisha and Joshua Cole) asked me to be the sound-man during the reception. Duties entailed are making sure that there is music during the eating time, that the MC has a mic, and that the slide show is turned on at the correct time.

So here I am, sitting in the sound booth bored out of my gourd. Trying to get 300 odd people through a buffet line takes a bloody long time. Ergo, nothing to do. Till just now, when I finally (15 seconds ago) had to get the slide show going. If you don't get the title of the post, comment and I will explain it all out ;)

P.S. I got half of the work done on the bike. Realized that I REALLY didn't want to do one of the jobs myself, so I am going to take it in to the shop for that one.

Kamikaze

2008-05-19T15:06:00.003-05:00

Note to self, "Beware the Kamikazes at Cliff's Bar." They be potent. Also, most of the ones that I sampled were not that good tasting; but if you want to get drunk in a hurry, they are your best bet.

And to all you who are curious...I did NOT get drunk...or even tipsy. ;P

record

2008-05-02T00:04:00.002-05:00

I found out that when my name is pulled in the police database, it comes up with 30+ red flags for outstanding warrants and other miscellaneous charges. How did I find this out? I got pulled over on my bike on Wednesday.

I was minding my own business going the wrong way on a one way street and a cop had the gall to pull me over :P Actually I was a retard because I forgot that the street I was cruising down went from two directions to a one way. I was loving life because I was catching all the green lights, my bike had a new rear fairing so it looks almost as good as new, and the temperature was north of 60 degrees. Suddenly, after going through a green light, I realize that all traffic is pointing my way. I go "Self, I am stupid. This is not the street I thought it was. No problem, I will just turn into this parking lot and get myself going the proper direction on this boulevard." Immediately on finishing this little internal dialoge, the car that was coming my way, that prompted said discussion, turned on his lights. Yes, he was a cop.

As I am laughing to myself at my absolute stupidity, and shaking my head, I turn into the parking lot, get off the bike, remove my helmet, get my proof of insurance and my registration from under my seat, and am waiting for the officer before he has even pulled into the parking lot. As he approaches me he says, "I think we both know WHY I pulled you over." Yep. Because I am a dum-bass. As he takes my info he tells me that I am only going to get a warning (great guy that cop) but he needs to run me anyway. No problem. That last liquor store job finally left my record (j/k). Ten minutes later, he finally gets out of his car...was something the matter? Or did he only have 14.4Kb connection in there?

Him: Have you had any problems going through airports lately?
Me: Noooo, not really
Him: When was the last time you flew?
Me: A couple of weeks ago. Flew to Phoenix to pick up a car. Why?
Him: Well, when I ran your name, 30 red flags popped up. I had to weed through them to make sure I had the right person...You don't happen to go by "Tony" do you?
Me: Nope.
Him: I didn't think so. Have a good day.

So ends my latest encounter with our lovely men in blue. That was actually the first time I had gotten pulled over on my bike. Of course, I am a little paranoid about the next time I fly. If TSA decides to scan my boarding pass as I go through security, am I going to get detained, rejected from my flight, cavity searched, etc. because of my name matching so many other "criminals?" Hope not. If I do, at least I will get a good story out of the deal.

tired

2008-04-23T09:25:00.002-05:00

I am about to tell a funny on myself. Have you ever not had enough sleep for a while and then had to get up a bit earlier than usual? Usually, things don't go quite right and you just have to shake your head and laugh. That is me right now. Not NEAR enough sleep has been had for the last several weeks and then I had to get up at 5 this morning to get a plane out the door by 8 AM. I get up, get dressed, have breakfast and head out the door. Get to work, change into my uniform, and start the work day. It is now 9:30 AM. So I have been up and "dressed" for over 4 hours. I just realized that my boxers are on backwards. Feel free to giggle or guffaw.

concert

2008-02-06T16:46:00.001-06:00

If anybody in my area (Lincoln NE) wants a good, fun, rockin' time this Friday...read on. If you want to be a square, a poser, and boring homebody with no friends...leave this page right now. :) Alright, all bombast aside, I am here to present a fun event for one and all. A man whom I feel I can call a friend (versus an acquaintance) is going to be in town on Friday the 8th to grace us with a concert. Some of you might have heard of his band. Caedmon's Call. Andrew Osenga happens to be one great electric guitar player and an amazing lyricist in his own right, but he also plays as the electric guitarist for Caedmon's Call. They are going to be playing at Berean Church on the 8th at 7:30 PM. General admission tickets only, and they go for about $15. If you can't float that or have other plans already for that time block, here is the main reason for this post.

Andy Osenga is also going to be putting on a concert, of his own material, at Grace Chapel, in the Geneva House. The church is on the corner of 40th and Sheridan. If you show up at 10:00 PM you will for sure make it on time. 10:30 PM means that you are probably going to walk in while he is playing. Granted, all these times are based on conjecture about when CC's concert finishes. As soon as the concert is over, several folks will be heading over to GC to set up for Andy. Depending on when they get there, how quickly they get set up, and when Andy himself can make it over, determines when doors open. As you can see, very laid back, very informal, and the cost is going to be $5 suggested donation. If you are on the fence about going and would like to hear some music from either of these artists mentioned (especially Andy O) check out http://www.caedmonscall.com/ and http://ilikeandy.com/. If you do make it over, I would love to say hi. Especially if I don't know you. I will probably be the one with a slightly harried look due to me getting the sound up and running :)

ahhhh how I love the moody...

2008-01-29T18:21:00.000-06:00

...fickle mood-swings of Mother Nature. She is one PMSing lady right now. Very nice weather on Saturday, better weather on Sunday, and then drop dead gorgeous weather yesterday. Today? It turned into the winter from hell. The difference in high temps between the last two days is 40 degrees. Add the windchill into the mix and you have a swing of almost 70. Cold day, snowy at the beginning, and incredibly windy. Basically it was a frozen version of Pooh's Blustery Day...minus the flooding and T-I-double guh-er. Hope this finds everyone snug and warm and hopefully in warmer climes than here.

ride

2008-01-27T18:01:00.000-06:00

Today was the first day in SEVERAL months that I was able to indulge in a favorite past-time of mine. The weather cooperated by being sunny and in the low 50's. The activity? Going out for a ride on my motorcycle. Oh Happy Day it was. It took a bit of work to be able to start. Had to reinstall my battery (an ordeal in and of itself), find my helmet (over at the sister's house), and then get the motor to turn over. Let me give you some advice. If you leave a bike alone for four months or so, especially over the winter, put in a bottle of HEET before you leave it. My gas was so cold that it was almost freezing, as well as the octane had dropped a bit. Both of those items alone are not much, but together meant that my started had to REALLY work to get the motor going. It finally did, and I was off down the road to get the helmet. I take a right turn out of the driveway and hit the gas and came "this close" to losing it right then and there. My back tire was soaking wet from all the melting ice in the driveway, and I hit the gas at quite possibly the worst spot I could find. The road had a small ice-patch, and loose sand and salt all around it. Needless to say, the back end kicked out, the bike tried to lay on its side, and only the very lucky quick kick that I gave the ground enabled me to stay upright. I was now off down the road of freedom.

I was only out for about 45 minutes, but what a sweet journey it was. Nothing too strenuous, some city cruising with a half-hour jaunt on some of the small paved roads outside of Lincoln. It was so nice to feel the wind rushing by, to have to hunch my chin a bit to block off the wind coming over my jacket, to enjoy the comradrie of other bikers that I passed. Man do I wish that it would be sooner than another three or four months before I could go out again. As a parting thought, I give you all (especially other riders) this salutation.

Live to ride, ride to live; and either ride hard or don't ride at all

2008-01-14T22:10:00.001-06:00

Drink to Friendship and love...for all the rest is tin.

Arranged

2008-01-13T22:25:00.000-06:00

You know how Indie films are always thought provoking? Quite often amazing? Usually they have quirky camera angles, stilted dialoge, and messages that go light years beyond the banality of the regular celluloid trash that we call blockbuster (or must-see) movies. "Arranged" is one such film. A good friend, Jonathan Gregory, invited me over for dinner tonight. After dinner was over, we (me, Jonathan, Jay, Liz, Josh) watched this movie that won several awards at various film festivals this last year. It is about two single women in New York, one is a Jew and the other is a Syrian Muslim. They teach at the same school and both of them are having marriages arranged for them. This movie shows their "unlikely" friendship as they realize that their differences are far outweighed by the similarities in their lives. As a movie, I would call it a must see. The performances of the two main actresses are amazing. Their joy, anguish, and frustration come through so strong that you almost feel as if you know them. If you call yourself a movie aficionado, a movie lover, or a movie noobie, I recommend that you rent this from your nearest blockbuster and watch it before the week is out. With no further ado, here is the trailer.

Jamie

2008-01-12T15:56:00.000-06:00

Had a fun breath of fresh air blow through town the other day; Thursday to be exact. The very fun and beautiful Jamie Tyser graced us with her presence as she gave a recital/concert at First Plymouth. Her musical selection was varied and filled with passages that were completely unknown to me. That was fun because most everything was new and intriguing. Most of the pieces were filled with a dissonance that is missing in most music you hear, and done in a minor key. Very melancholy (to me at least). A couple of her songs just begged to have some artistic license added in by the performer...one song would have been the work of two notes to go in to "The Pink Panther" by Henri Mancini. I forget what the other song could have been. Oh well. And now to get the impression that you were in fact there. Here is the visual aspect. Sorry, no audio or video today ;) And no, there was no organ in the concert...I just thought it was cool. In case you can't tell, she plays the trumpet...and she plays it well.

bored

2008-01-06T11:30:00.000-06:00

Here I sit...half bored out of my skull, and yet not caring too much. Why you ask? B/c I am getting paid $18.75 to babysit two mechanics as they work on their helicopter. I don't have to be here to do any work, but because of insurance purposes; so here I sit. I have caught up on almost all of my internet duties, listened to two CDs, read one magazine, and I still have over four hours of time that I have to kill before I am allowed to leave. The weather is being kind of nice, so I might be able to get some good pictures of the airport and any planes that might be parked outside. Christmas was good; incredibly busy but good. New Years wasn't so much a bang but a whimper...same as every New Years I have been a part of since as long as I can remember. Actually, there was one year that the year ended with a bang. I got a concussion and almost went to the hospital that night. This was way back in the wogie days of Mexico. My family was celebrating New Years with the Corleys and us kids were outside lighting off bottlerockets in the street. Once we ran out of explosives, we started running around like hooligans, twirling, dancing...whatnot. Me and Katie were spinning really fast in a circle inside the Corley's coche (...covered driveway) when our hands slipped and I went headfirst into the concrete wall. I thought I was alright, but I was knocked out, nauseous, loopy, and all the rest. Needless to say, I did NOT see midnight but was asleep/passed out/unconscious in somebody's bed. Yeah, that would have to be the "Craziest" New Years I have been a part of. Any stories along those lines?

P.S. If anyone is curious, I STILL have not been paid from Dallas. }-)

.: EDIT:.

I actually got to help out with the chopper guys take out and relube the 8 bolts holding the 4 rotor blades in. That was some work. I am now very sore in the upper back.

I LOVE technology

2007-07-26T17:56:00.000-05:00

So, I finally get internet in my apartment. Hence the last post. With every fiber in my being, I purpose in my heart to post something blog-worthy of a month and a half absence, when what to my dismay occurs? Oh right, technology bites me in the butt. I finally have an evening when I have nothing to do and so I turn on the old trusty computer. Up it starts to load, and load, and load, and load...ad naseum. Oops, I guess my system is letting me know that it wants a break. I shut it down and restart to see if I can't figure out what the issue is. I change a couple of settings in CMOS and BAM!!! I get absolutely nothing when I try to restart. So I go to bed. I can't get back to my computer for a couple of days but when I do I reset everything to default and up she comes. Slowly, or so VERY slowly, but she is alive...and my network card is shot. I get nothing. It's great, I have a computer that works like a charm, I have cable internet streaming in all of its broadband glory, and I can't get online. Oh well, that is what roommates are for. The ability to steal his computer and use it for your own gain. :)

On a much lighter note, today felt very productive. Not the first eleven hours. Oh no, definitely not those, but once I got home, everything finally fell into place. I got the numerical keypad for my garage programmed so now I can get in even if I forget the remote upstairs. I also resurrected my sister's car. Three days to late to be of any use to her, and about three weeks to late for my own sanity; but she is up. Turns out that the ignition module in the distributor was shot (a common enough problem in that model year of Civic). The starter which I installed at the beginning of her vehicle problem saga is cranking like a champ, and the "wacked out" issue with her intake valves is normal because it is a V-TEC motor. Oh the joys of mechanicing on a automobiles. Give me a plane engine any day. They are much simpler and more logically put together. :)

For anybody who has not heard about my sister's car b/c you do not live in a 10 mile radius of my abode, I apologize that my last paragraph makes absolutely no sense whatsoever and is so filled with mumbo-jumbo.

In the words of the great Jim Carrey, "Good day, good evening, and good night." I have to clean the apartment and take a shower before people start showing up for Cary Grant night. For the intrigued among you, the movie that will be showing at the Taylor Theatre is "Grass is Greener." Feel free to imdb.com it to find out the synopsis.

oops I did it again

2007-07-21T02:00:00.000-05:00

Yarrrg!!! the prodigal son is still alive. (best said in a pirate accent) Now that I have internet, expect posts to happen more than once every other month. :) I am going to bed.

this bites

2007-05-07T23:21:00.000-05:00

So I go in to donate plasma today. Get my $15 and head out to my car. Only to find that my car is no longer in its spot. It seems that since I was straddling the line between two parking spots (one owned by the place I donate at, the other by an apartment building) my vehicle got towed. That part is bad, what is worse is that the tow company used has been changed in the last couple of months. Before, the charge to get the car back was $66...now it is $100. To put this another way, I just paid $85 to donate plasma. Ugh.

movie night

2007-05-06T23:10:00.000-05:00

to anybody interested.

I am starting a movie tradition for the summer period. All who know me, or know someone who knows me, are invited. Every Thursday starting the seventh of June and ending the second of August, there will be a movie shown at my place. Every movie will be have Cary Grant as the thread that holds this tradition together. The rough draft of movies to start off this little caper are "North by Northwest" "Operation Petticoat" "Father Goose" "Charade" "Arsnic and old Lace" "To Catch a Thief."

As you can see, this will put us halfway through the summer. Any other suggestions to finish it off would be appreciated.

Last note...popcorn and soda provided by me. Other snacky snacks are to be brought by anybody who feels like it. :)

.:edit:.

I forgot to post the time. The movies will start around 8 PM. That way they end at a decent hour for all those that need to work in the morning.

roommate

2007-05-02T17:45:00.000-05:00

I just found out that I have a roommate. He is a quiet, introverted, unassuming sort of fellow. In fact, when anybody drops by the house, you could "toss" it and never see him....he doesn't like company. He moved in some time ago, and yet I myself only realized last night that he was even there.

There is a snake somewhere in my basement. I call him Bartholemew Gustace Perelli, Barty for short. I have no idea what kind he is, but he left a dry snakeskin hanging down the wall yesterday, which is how I found out that he was living with me. Sweet dreams to all you who are scared to death of snakes. :)

I love it

2007-04-30T23:36:00.000-05:00

This weather is AWESOME. Mid eighties, sunny, light breeze. Makes having a bike the most awesome experience on the planet. Went out on a ride on Sunday with a group of guys. We just took off west to Seward, got there, had a coke and an ice-cream bar at one of the gas stations and then drove back. Took about an hour and change. The camaraderie of the road, everybody waving at other bikers, swapping places in the train without having to "talk" it over.

There were five of us on this trek. Me with my Honda CB 750, my bro Jay with his Honda Magna Super 650, Elijah with his Honda VTX 1300, Matt with his Honda Shadow 600, and then Parks with his Suzuki 400 (pseudo crochrocket). It was glorious, the perfect cap for a good weekend that involved two separate instances of grilling out, and four hours of beach volleyball. Good times.

P.S. I apologize for the complete lack of "true" sentences. Everything was either a run-on or a fragment. All my english teachers would be appalled. :D

The End

2007-04-01T18:20:00.000-05:00

Warning...this last part is LONG.

As traffic backed up behind him, Ben did his best to get his wagon out of the intersection and into the way station that was just down the road. After much prayer, supplication, blood sacrifices, and then the most potent of entreaties (the omnipotent swear words) it was back under way. With much lurching, stuttering, and near deaths, he made it to his "new" destination. A "pop" of the hood showed no glaring problems. Checking the fluids showed everything fine. There was no sign that anything was wrong, and yet, like an aneurism in the brain, Ben's current mode of transportation was dead. He had been given a number to contact in case of breakdown should it ever, God Forbid, occur. After many wasted conversations, he finally got a hold of someone that might be able to help. The good news was that they could not find where he was. The helpful person on the other end searched for his current location. Nowhere to be found.
"Where are you?"
"The intersection of Hwy 59 and Hwy 169, just south of Garnett Kansas."
"I'm not seeing that that intersection. Did you say you were in Colorado?"

Ben was thinking "WTF?"

"NO, Kansas. I am broken down in the middle of KANSAS."
"You sure you're not in Nebraska?"
"Listen lady. I am in Kansas. The south end of Garnett. In Kansas. At the junction of Hwy 59 and Hwy 169"
"Oh, I thought you said..."
"Whatever, just get me a mechanic. Tell him I am at the Conoco gas station at the corner of Hwy 59 and 169"
"Okay sir. We will give you a call in 45 minutes to tell you when to expect some help."

Click.

"What the heck? 45 minutes? It's 3:30 in the afternoon. How the crap am I supposed to get this P.O.S. fixed and on the road if I am supposed to be informed of "When" to expect help at 4:15?"

To add insult to injury, the rain that had been misting all day long was turning to sleet. After an interminable HOUR, Ben called back to the oh-so-helpful moron he had been talking to before.

"Hi, my name is Ben, here is my "service" number. I was wondering when a tow-truck was showing up to help me."
"We aren't showing anything by that number."
"WHAT?"
"No sir. Could I have your name and phone number?"
"Here you go."
"Hmmm...let's see...nope. Nothing under that. You say you are broken down in a U-Haul?"
"Yes."
"Did you call our 800 number?"
"Yes, and they kicked me over to you."
"Okay, what vehicle are you using?"
"This one."
"Ooohh, got it. Yessir, your mechanic should show up in an hour and a half."
"Excuse me? An hour and a half? I am one mile out of Garnett, how is that going to take so long?"
"Well sir, you did call at the end of the business day."
"No, I called mid-day."
"Well, he will get to you." CLICK.

Ben calls back two minutes later.

"Where exactly is this mechanic coming from?"
"Lebo"
"Huh?"
"Lebo Kansas."
"Ookaayyy."

An hour later the mechanic shows up, driving his tow-truck. Ben and he converse a bit, look at the engine, watch and listen to how it runs, and both concur that it is probably a plugged fuel filter. Seems that U-Haul does not maintain worth beans...as is evidenced by the black-as-soot air filter. Once hooked up, Ben is back on the road, riding shot-gun to "knight in shining armour" (if you will). "Hey, could you drop me off at a good hotel in Lebo?"
"Ah, no."
"Why not?"
"There isn't one"
"Isn't one what?"
"Nice hotel. The only one in town is pretty bad."
"Is there one in the area?"
"Yeah, in BETO. It's about 12 miles down the road from Lebo."

After a couple of phone calls to other mechanics, it is worked out that Ben will stay at said hostel in Beto Junction, and will borrow a vehicle from a mechanic there to drive out to Lebo to pick up his wagon after he gets a phone call telling him it is fixed.

Beto turns out to be nothing. It is not a town. Not a village. Not even a cluster of huts. It's sole reason for existence is to provide a rest point for people such as Ben. Three restaurants, one garage, two gas stations, and said hostel. It's name doesn't really exist either, since Beto is the first letter from each of the four towns in the surround area. The hostel was at least clean, and Ben was able to be sated from hunger at one of the restaurants. Since he was getting everything reimbursed by U-haul, he was extravagant with payment for food. Normally a good tipper, he went above board and tipped the price of the meal. He knew that in the end, he would have worked out to paying for the meal and not leaving a tip. The next morning was the same thing. After eating, he called the mechanic and found out that: yes, it was a clogged fuel filter, and no he would not need to borrow the arranged truck. The wagon was being brought out to him. Finally...things were turning around.

The rain that had turned to sleet the previous day had deteriorated even further and had dropped an inch of snow at Ben's location. This made his next stage of driving rather slow. Actually, it was beyond slow at first. Creeping down the road at a third of his previous speed, Ben was cursing the heavens that a 3 hour trip was going to take him all day. Luckily, the road cleared out more and more so that after just a short stint he was able to pick up his pace to equal that of the day before. All went well for many hours. Boring hours. There is no radio coverage in that part of the US. None. Finally, he entered Iowa...and the roads got terrible. Seems that that area had received almost a foot of snow and after 14 hours of non-stop work, the roads were only just becoming passable. So, once again, it was a crawl.

"Welcome to Nebraska: Home of Arbor Day"

No other sign was as beautiful as that. Ben was almost home. He could "taste" it. And then he almost died.

The road conditions at this time were marginal at best. One lane fully cleared, the other mostly so. Every once in a while you would encounter a drifting of snow that had escaped plowing. As Ben powered past a slow moving line of cars and tractor trailers, he noticed that up in the distance, his lane was no longer clear...but in fact completely drifted over. He sped up. So did the trailer rig. He sped up more, so did the rig. The jackass driver in the rig that was now racing Ben had been going 45 mph before. He and Ben were now neck and neck entering Turn 8 getting ready for the race down the long home stretch to the checkered flag at Turn 9, that was the snow drift, and nearing 80 mph. Ben realized finally, that passing in time, was not going to happen.

Time

Slowed

Down.

All Ben's previous winter training started running through his mind. Scenarios played out in the IMAX of his brain. Everything pointed to one thing. Only one plan would result in Ben NOT being strewn all over the surrounding countryside. His path was shown to him. He was riding a razor's edge of control. Even the slightest deviation would result in his friends and family getting the dreaded message, "Your son/brother/friend was in a serious accident." His one hope was to coast through the snow, trying to stay straight, while making the turn. An oxymoron? Perhaps, but he had to do the best he could, even if he was an ox...and a moron.

Foot off the gas, hands at 10 and 2 for maximum control, seat belt snugged as tight as it would go, center of lane, wheels straight...and impact.

As the saying goes, a plan is what you have until you meet the enemy. The snow was NOT as he expected. One side of the rather long stretch of snow was firmly packed down, the other side...well; let's say it was a skier’s dream, the most beautiful powder on the planet. No-sir, you are NOT going to stay in a straight line if you keep the wheels straight.

Everyone has seen the movies were a small, light souped up car kicks out the back tires going around a corner. Always there is a lot of room for that to happen. Ben got to see how that looked/felt when you are driving a 27 foot, under loaded boat, and you have only 9 feet to play with before you contact the rather immovable vehicle right next to you.

Stay off the gas, don't even THINK about touching that brake, steer into the slide, don't over steer, watch your exit point, and straighten out the wheels just before you get back to asphalt. Time stops. An eternity between hear-beats. Whole solar systems are born and die in the time and space it takes for the front tires to transition for snow to dry ground. All plans, hopes, and dreams hinge on the next split instant.

Is...he...straight? If so, there is a happily ever after. If not...well, nobody likes to think about that possibility too much.

THUMP...BA-THUMP...BADDA-THUMP...Squeak. With one little chirp of tortured rubber, one little tail-wiggle, one last shake, Ben is once again on the gas, going down the road, passing the trucker, and giving him the middle finger the whole while. He is alive. Heart hammering to beat the band, blood pressure through the roof, adrenaline pouring through his veins by the gallon, Ben vows to not pass another vehicle until he gets home.

By the time he makes Lincoln, his heart has finally slowed, his hands no longer shake, the cold-sweat has dried from his brow, and then...he is home. No words can express his gratitude or his thankfulness.

After a couple of days to unpack and run some other moving errands, it is time to drop off the wagon. It is "now" that he finds out the true nature of "re-imbursement."

"Here are my receipts from the breakdown."
"Okay, let's see here. Hotel…good. What are these two?"
"My meals."
"Meals?"
"Yes, I had to buy supper and breakfast because of breaking down."
"We don't reimburse meals."
"Why not?"
"Because you would have eaten anyway."
"I wouldn't have eaten out. The only reason why I ate out was because I wasn't able to make it home that night. Because I broke down. If I hadn't broken down, I would have eaten a nice home-cooked meal for dinner, and then had cereal or eggs and bacon, cooked on my own stove I might add, for breakfast."
"We still won't give you your money."
"Why not?"
"Because you would have eaten anyway."
"WHAT? Did you not just hear me? Forget it, just give me my freakin' bill, and my storage room."

Ben no longer cared. He was home, he was safe, and he still had some coinage in his pocket. Life was good...if only he had a girlfriend. But “That” is a different story.

Part 2

2007-02-28T21:50:00.000-06:00

Upon reaching his home, Ben immediately continued his packing spree. Into the washer and dryer went three loads of laundry. The dishwasher was immediately put to use as well. Boxes were opened, and his few minor possessions went into their allotted places. As the night went on and hour turned into hour, he realized that he had WAY more than he thought, and that there weren't enough allotted locations for his stuff...so he went to bed. By this time though, the bed had been broken down and packed up, so he had to pass a not quite comfortable night sleeping on the carpet in the living room, wrapped up in a sleeping bag like a giant chimichanga. After a few short hours of respite, he was back at it. This time with even more fervor as some of his friends were coming over to help him load his wagon with the packed essence of his life in Dallas. The appointed hour of their help arrived, and he was mostly packed. After welcoming everyone, they all settled down with a will and soon the wagon was loaded. Looking at the finished packing process, Ben realized that he could have saved much money by going for the next size down of wagon; but that was too late, that money was water under the bridge, and time and tide wait for no man so he set off on his way.

The first leg of his journey was a nice short stint of boredom as we wandered up to Tulsa. Many memories of that town ran through his mind as the miles passed beneath him. He was looking forward to fellowship, friendship, and food shared among those he called his family. His plan was to spend a couple of nights catching up on the lives of those dear to him. Upon arriving, he set up many meetings and plans, and then partook of a wonderful repast of lasagna and caesar salad. By the time he left that oasis of friendship, he had almost forgotten why his path led farther north to the inhospitable wastes of the artic, and his heart was heavy at the thought that it might be many months if not years till he was able to cross through again.

As if it was a mirror reflecting his heart and soul, the weather was cold, dreary, and rainy. The only thing that made the trip bearable was the knowledge that he would be sleeping with family that night.

But Fate had another plan for him.

The miserly owner of the hostlery from whence the wagon was procured had saved much money by not properly maintaining his fleet. When Ben had reached the halfway point of his journey the wagon started to lurch, to stutter, and then to die. What made this even worse was the location where it finally came to rest. It was a barren place. No friendly abodes for miles, and the exact location it stopped was in the middle of a junction of two major traffic arteries. If Ben was not able to get the wagon out of the way soon, he would be run over...or through.

The story: Part 1

2007-02-25T18:28:00.000-06:00

So I guess I lied when I said this story was going to be told the next day. "The dasterdly moving company and the brave mover" by Ben Taylor

It was a cloudy and blustery day on the day that our protagonist (Ben) sallied forth on his quest to move all earthly belongings from the dungeon that had held his soul for the last eight months. He knew that this quest would be long, without glory, with much discomfort, and full of travails, and so he girded his loins as for battle and stepped out the door to start this long journey. It was a fitting start that he stepped in a rain puddle on that first step. After shaking out his boot, he mounted his noble steed. It was a companion of many a rough uncomfortable mile these last six months, so he knew just what was needed to coax it to a mood that was conducive to riding.

Ben only had a short time available to acquire his main mode of conveyence for his trip, as well as to assemble the last few supplies needed before he could set out. His taskmaster allotted him a short period over the noon hour, that Ben was allowed to do what he wanted to. So Ben turned his face to the south and commenced on his way. First stop was Stuffmart. Ben had no way to lash his steed to the wagon, once he picked up the wagon, so many ropes and tiedowns were needed in the very near future. Precious minutes were lost wandering the many torturous, twisty, and misleading aisles before the sought after items were found. Many more were lost as other retched souls tried to pay, barter, and steal for their items at the lone paystation open. Finally, he was once again on the road.

This time he looked rather like Don Quixote tilting at windmills, as Ben had forgotten his bag to carry things at work. He made do with stuffing his many purchases down his jacket and hoping that the pressure caused would keep them from spilling onto the road-way as he rode. His directions for where to pick up his wagon were vague at best, misleading at worst, but after much luck and no small amount of skill at reading sign, Ben was able to find the hostler for wagons. There was a faded sign hanging over its door. On it was a picture of some sort of wagon with the word "U-Haul" emblazoned across it. The first stage of his saga was complete.

Ben knew that the master here would drive a hard bargain for purchasing cost, but he had faith that in the end he would not have to part with more money than was absolutely necessary. After many tense minutes of terse communication with first the hired underlings and then finally the master (nay dame) herself, a price was agreed upon. It was steep, and involved many sacrifices of not only the first but also the second born of his yet unborn children. His wagon pulled around front and checked for gross mechanical negligence, Ben rode his steed into the wagon and lashed it down securely so it would not come to harm as the wagon was navigated back to work and from there back to the cottage Ben called home.

The remainder of the day passed without incident, even though Ben did not make it back in the alotted time. At the end of the work day, he loaded up the tools of his trade into the wagon, lashed them down as well, and set his face to the east with a song of gladness in his heart. He knew that soon his face would see many good friends, and his heart would be filled with joy and mirth as stories were exchanged.

Hi...bye

2007-02-19T00:02:00.001-06:00

I am finally moved. Note I did not say moved in. I am about halfway to claiming my space as my own, with knowledge of where everything is. Work starts on today at 8. I am going to bed and tomorrow I will tell everyone the riveting tale of "The dasterdly moving company and the brave mover." :)

Yep, the wind changed

2007-01-25T18:09:00.000-06:00

I probably should have updated this sooner, what with my last post being what it was...so here we go.

I accepted the job in Lincoln. Gave my boss my three week notice, and then didn't hear a peep out of him until yesterday. I am suprised at how well he took it. We were having a "meeting" after work, i.e. "We have lots of work to do, not enough work going out, we are almost out of money again, I am going to hire three or four more mechanics." Right after that last comment, he looked at me and said that he needed to find another one since I was leaving.

And that was it. Nothing more than a "I need to replace you." I was kinda worried he would do something rash...but he understood why, so that is that.

My last day of work at T.G.I.Fridays in Mesquite is Sunday the 3d of February, working from 11 AM till 4 PM. Last day at my "real" job is the 9th. I hope to have everything packed up by then so that on the 10th I can load up a U-Haul and hit the road for home. Trip home will have a detour of a day or two in Tulsa, and then get home by the 12th. Take a drug test on the 13th, and hopefully start work on the 19th. If the drug test doesn't come in on time, I will just start work once it does come in. That week home before work starts will be rather full with me getting moved in, set up, and buying a vehicle that has four wheels, intact windows, an engine that runs, and a heater. It will be a sad day when I garage my bike. She has carried me through many miles since we met, and I will be abandoning her for several months.

Oh yeah, about the miles on my bike. I bought her in May with 17,000 on the odometer. She is now reading 37,000+. Not too bad. 20,000 in a little over eight months.

I think the wind is changing

2007-01-16T17:45:00.000-06:00

Remember how Mary Poppins said that she would be around until the wind changed? How their lives would all change and be transformed in many great and strange ways? I think the wind might be changing down here in Dallas.

As mentioned before, I had a couple of interviews over Christmas Break. The bigger/better (?) of the two just called today and said that they would like to hire me. I am supposed to call them tomorrow (the 17th), sometime around noon, and give them my decision. There is only one problem. I don't know what I should do. If you want to comment and give your two cents worth, go ahead...but I won't be able to read them by the time I call. Here are the facts of the case.

1) The pay is $12.50 an hour
2) They pay me $250 a month to pay for medical insurance
3) The work is pretty much the same thing I am doing right now.
4) There are already a couple of places lined up for me to move into if I take the job
5) It is close to friends, family, and community
6) When I was interviewed here in Dallas, I told my boss I was thinking of working for him for at least a year
7) I have worked for him for only 7 months
8) I am behind about one month in pay...so does that absolve me from that spoken "agreement?"
9) If I move back home, that leaves the other three guys in the shop in a serious bind for THEIR paychecks
10) ...

Five for moving, four against...and yet there is my stinkin "word" in there as well as the "well-being" of my fellow man. So far, every job has been left b/c I was either going off to college or had graduated college and was moving on in life. This is the first time I have had to possibly give two weeks notice because of just wanting a different job, and the first time that the effect of my leaving could be that the company goes under. Yeesh. If I do leave, I am in a MUCH better place financially. But I don't want this move to be about the money. Is my time down here in Dallas done? Or does God still want me down here to grow me in patience, perseverence, and what not? If I leave now, have I persevered and trusted in Him enough? Or am I bailing before I should?

Oh well, I guess I will decide one way or another. Pray that I make the right one.

P.S. I cut the tip of my finger today. It bloody HURTS to type.

X-mas

2006-12-13T18:19:00.000-06:00

I am going HOME! As my pastor down here said, "Home is not a place, or an address. Home is where there are people around you that you love and that love you." That being said, home could be Waukesha, Norfolk, or Tulsa (for me). But it really is first and foremost in Norfolk. Hence, I am going HOME. I fly up on Dec. 22 (Lord willing, if the weather is nice) early, and get to Omaha by 10:30 in the morning. The next leg of the trip is where YOU all come in. By 3 PM I plan to have had four job interviews in four different towns...Seward, Lincoln, Omaha, Council Bluffs. These companies run the gamut of size and work expertise, so I should be able to find something that meshes with me and what I need for experience. If I could have your prayers that something works out, that would be great. Of course, I then have to figure out how I am going to break the news to my boss that I will be leaving at the end of January. Oh yeah, if one of those jobs does fit me, I need to find out if they are cool with committing to me, with me not being able to show up for a little over a month.

If all of this does happen, I am definitely curious about how I am going to get caught up on my missing back-pay when I am no longer even living in the same state. Oh well, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it.

Not to sound redundant and at a lack for different words, but I will say it again...if all of this does happen...I am going to take a couple of days to get home. Pack a large U-haul (it has to be large if it is going to fit my tool-box AND motorbike inside with all my stuff), drive up to Tulsa, see all my old work friends, see my Rivendell family (this is your advance warning, I am going to be calling to see who I can crash at), and then finally make it up to Lincoln or wherever. Forgive me Melody, that was a horrendous run-on.

On to the rest of my break. Long nights staying up talking to people, long days talking to people. Quite probably a project or two around the house. And volunteering to run sound for church while I am there. Typical busy holiday for me. Try to cram 5 months of time with people into two weeks.

Auf Wiedersehen and goodnight.

P.S. If anybody happens to have no plans on this coming Saturday from 6:30 to 8:30 PM, drop by Casa View Baptist Church on the corner of Gus Thomasson and Shiloh. Why you ask? Because you will see me freezing my cojones off as Joseph in a live Nativity scene, is the answer.

a little late

2006-12-06T12:25:00.000-06:00

As a friend has stated, "Forgive me blogspot. It has been a month since my last "confession." :) That being said, this is going to be too late for Thanksgiving and too early for Christmas. My mom and I were talking the other day and she mentioned how blessed I was that I always found really good friends where-ever I lived. As I thought about that, I realized that she was very true. I have been blessed...in so many ways.

I am thankful for my family who love me and support me as I bounce all over the country.
I am thankful for clothes warm enough that I can still ride my bike even though the temp drops into the low 20s.
I am thankful for a second job that makes it possible to still have an apartment, food, and gas.
I am thankful for friends (both close to me and far away) who randomly call me up to see how I 've been doing.
I am thankful for the fact that I am able to make it home for Christmas this year.

That is made possible by some of those aforementioned friends. They wanted to give me a Christmas present so they bought my tickets.

Finally, I am thankful that there is a reason for Christmas (and Thanksgiving if you think about it)

about time

2006-11-06T23:35:00.000-06:00

No, this is not another post about "time." But it is the phrase running through at least one person's head when they see that I have finally posted something...anything. lol. Noteworthy or not.

I have been looking everywhere for a streaming audio or a video to go along with this post, but I can't find anything anywhere, so you will just have to make up your own music to go with these lyrics, or you will have to buy the CD the song came from, or get somebody to download the song for your. Either way, here are the lyrics for a song that struck me pretty hard a couple of weeks ago.

Just for a moment, the moment I met her, I lost my breath but my lips whispered “she is the one”

Forgot who I was and who I was fooling, didn’t remember she could be my first cue to run

We moved so fast

Never thought twice

Mind came at last

Put us on ice

We stayed in touch but the touch I was wanting from her came from girls that
scared me too little to love

So all of the thoughts I thought I might tell her turned into songs
that until now she’s never heard of

I had been taught

Love is a vice

Took all these thoughts

And I put them on ice

The vice bends and ice tends to melt

One night she asked me how I felt

The next day I woke up lying to myself

I feel fine, I feel fine, I feel fine

Thank God you’re here, I need you to hear this

So sick of my shit, I promise, I’m through tempting fate

I know I’m in love now, you are what love is to me

Please tell me this isn’t too little too late

Let’s move fast

Making up would be nice

I’m so sorry I put these things on ice

-- On Ice by Chris Thile

Now the entire song is good. Lyrics are great, music is awesome, and the timing of the lyrics to the music is superb. What I want you to re-read is the lyrics I put in bold face type. I can honestly say that those last few words "...scared me too little to love." Jumped out so far the first time I heard this song. They are so fitting. And I don't think I have really run into a girl that has "scared me enough to love" since high-school. Although, truth be told...that "scared" might have just been the fact that I was so freakin' shy back then.

...

Anywho, this post made some sense to me until I wrote it down. Now after re-reading it, I am confused. Have fun. If you make sense of it, well done. If not, find the song, and enjoy it. lol. I am such a dork. :)

fluff post

2006-10-02T22:53:00.000-05:00

saw a music video just now that is very funny. It is a spoof of "Desparate Housewives." Thought something light would go down nicely after my rant.

on notice

2006-10-02T22:50:00.000-05:00

Congratulations ladies. You did it. After 45-ish years, it has finally been accomplished. You won...and may you "enjoy" the fruits of your labors. Before I go farther, I think I should clarify to whom I am speaking. To the femi-nazis, and HARDCORE feminists, I salute you. You have killed chivalry, and the concept that women should be appreciated, respected, and honored.

How is this you ask? I wish I could find the article I read online to link to, so you shall just have to believe me when I say that this was for real. In last weeks edition of Dallas' free paper, the "Observer," there was an article entitled "The death of chivalry." The author starts off giving his example as to why chivalry is dead. Men not giving up their seat on a crowded bus to 1) a VERY pregnant woman, and 2) a VERY old woman.

You have fought for about 45 years for equal pay (yay), equal rights (double yay), right to be on the front lines in combat (uhhh), right to vote (rock on), etc. You have fought so hard to be seen as equal to a man, in virtually every area, that most men have HAD to treat you as one of the guys. Does a guy give up his seat to another guy? Hell no. Does he refrain from farting, belching, and scratching his balls around guys? I repeat myself, Hell no. Does it surprise you then that men no longer are embarrassed about doing it in front of you? For some reason, you are. In fact you are offended by it. Why? You wanted equal? You got equal. It is a known fact, guys are sick and perverted and will laugh at pretty much any joke. Be it crude, lewd, or offensive. So, they tell these jokes to each other, not caring (anymore) if there are women around? Why? Because they have been taught to think/treat you as an equal. In a guy's mind equal = guy. So what happens when a woman hears those jokes? especially the sexist ones? She gets pissed and slaps a sexual harassment charge/lawsuit on him. And what does the guy do? He scratches his head and goes WTF?

These are the extreme examples of how chivalry is dead. How about the small examples? The ones that truly show the sorry case that chivalry is in? How often does a guy give up his seat to a lady? Almost never. Oh wait..."lady." Let me restate...woman, girl, child, dame, skirt, hooker...female. How about holding a door for her? Going out to dinner and sliding in her chair? Refraining from bodily functions in her presence? Unlocking her door first when getting into the car? RESPECT her, not only when alone but when out in public?

People watch some time. Sit in a mall, parking lot, sidewalk cafe. Keep a mental tally of that VERY short list of chivalrous acts I just gave. After an hour, you might run out of fingers on one hand. Might. You have wanted equality for so long, you got it; and our little girls are reaping the extraneous "benefits" of it. They are no longer cherished, respected, loved, treasured, or taken care of. Men now look at them as they do other men, what do they have that I can use, benefit from, and enjoy. Congratulations, you did it.

There are still small glimmers of chivalry. Like the death throes of a headless chicken, parts still move even though the body no longer lives. Some men still hold open doors and give up seats. Some men still respect women for being the special creatures that they are. Some even slide in the chairs of their wives, girlfriends, mistresses. I saw that last one happen this last weekend. Haven't seen it done in years. Not since one of my high-school banquets actually. Yes, even these men don't always act it, but they try. They try to show the better way to the generations coming up, and the generations that are already here. Don't worry, given enough time, you might even be able to stamp out these last couple of sparks. We don't want it to resurge now do we? Let those sparks free and they might burn out of control and you will lose ALL you have worked for.

Oh, that author that wrote the article? Was a guy. I can only infer through his outrage that he was one of the ones standing on that bus, as he would be the worst two-faced jerk to rant and not have given up HIS seat.

I apologize on behalf of MAN-kind for losing the fight for chivalry. Equal rights, pay, voting, etc I give you total props for winning. For winning in the battle of chivalry, I say I'm sorry we lost. For every jerk that let a door slam in your face after he went through it, for every bastard that has disrespected you in word, deed, or action...I say I'm sorry. I apologize personally as well. I have done those things and more because of being self-centered and not thinking. I try not too, and some days are better than others, but it still happens. Does anybody notice when I do act the chivalrous gentleman? Maybe, maybe not. I don't care. This isn't for you, it's for me.

Meat and potatoes

2006-09-23T22:05:00.000-05:00

Here be the weightier post I mentioned before. For anybody interested, the pictures that me and Micah took of Crystal's wedding are now uploaded to my flickr webpage. To look at them, just click on the flickr banner to the right of the page.

Bried pause here. I just read a testimonial from a guy in Mexico. Here it is. Some back story. Alonso was a missionary in Mexico and was a semi-pro (maybe pro?) biker (ala Armstrong) who was just killed a week ago during a race. This testimonial is from one of his team mates.

More details of the accident keep coming in. Below is the translated testimony of one of the young cyclists, Pablo who is on the Chihuahua University cycling team and is a Christian, and how it has affected his life. He uses the cycling term, "on your wheel" which means that the lead rider is choosing the best path for both safety and victory and is pulling the follower by his draft which saves the following rider's energy. The energy savings is so great that a weaker rider can stay with a strong one by staying in his draft, close to his rear wheel.

On your wheel, Alonso

Last Tuesday along with my bicycling companions I was rammed by a truck which was speeding over 60 miles per hour. But, that wasn't the real trauma. The true shock which has devastated me and has transformed my life is the death of a hero. The truck entered our lane on a diagonal, principally smashing into Alonso who moved out to cushion my collision with the truck and thus saved my life.

An aunt of mine said, "Sometimes God allows us to meet our guardian angels." And, thus was the case. Alonso was one who always watched out for me and took me under his wing like a little brother. I thank God for the life of Alonso and all that I learned from him.

I'll never forget his words to me before one of our races. "Stay on my wheel, Pablo," which means that I was to draft him and follow him to victory through the whole length of the race. I only hope that in this race which we call life, God gives me the strength to follow in his steps.

This will be my goal in life, to follow in the steps of him who gave his life for me so I could be here, alive and writing this today. Thank you, Alonso, because even in the moment of your departure you gave me a testimony of how true Christians leave this life. You gave me a testimony of how heroes say good-bye. In fact, heroes never die, but rather they live in the lives of those they have impacted. Thank you Alonso! I will live my life honoring you, living for God as you lived. On your wheel, forever….

by

Pablo Montaño

1Cor. 11:1 Be ye followers of me, even as I also am of Christ.

I just hope that when it's my turn to go, I have impacted people as much as Alonso did.

To those of you who I once said, "I will never work in the restaurant business again." I lied. I am once again working at TGIFridays. I need cash, in hand, if I am going to be able to pay my bills and stay on top of finances. Pay at work is killing me; therefore, I swallowed my pride (once again) went to the nearest Fridays, and submitted my application. Two "training" shifts later, and I was thrown back into the fray. This morning was my first shift back, and though a bit rusty (especially since the menu has DRASTICLY changed since I worked last) I managed to make it through making a good chunck of change. I would have liked to try to hire on to a different restaurant, maybe something a bit more high-class...but I couldn't afford that long time of training. That time would have been REALLY long since I would have only been able to do it on the weekends. Nope, not possible, I need the money NOW. Oh well, at least the crew that I work with is INSANE. Most waiters are crazy, but these guys are over the top. I love it.

What is this?...

2006-09-22T19:10:00.000-05:00

You might ask? I realize that I change my blog layout like most women change clothes. As often as possible. Ladies, don't hurt me .:cringes:. ;) I figured that upgrading to Beta required a refreshing of my small corner of the internet. A spring cleaning if you will. Tell you what, they have got some nice little features in this new version.

Okay, on to the topic that has dominated my sub-concious for the last week. Let me warn you, this is very lame, shallow, and worthless, so I will not be offended if you just stop reading right now. Why is it that women that ride sport bikes (such as Ducatis, Ninjas, CBR 900s) are invariably tall, thin, and beautiful, and yet women that drive cruisers (any Harley, or it's like) are hit or miss in that department? I have no clue, don't flame me too hard on that rather HUGE generalization. It hit me the other day when I passed two chicks (at different times) riding gorgeous CBRs and then passed several women on cruisers and the difference in appearance between those two classes of riders was striking (to say the least). Hey, I did warn you it was going to be shallow.

Peace out, I will have something more meaty to chew over later this weekend.

various and sundry

2006-09-02T19:07:00.000-05:00

Hey, I am still alive and kicking. All evidence to the contrary. I am finally back online after a week hiatus. The guy I leech wireless off of went on vacation (I think) so his router was inaccessible for a week. Much happened in that week, but I can't remember what all it was. I should follow Supermom's actions and take blogging notes :)

If anybody is a fan of Derek Webb, go here to get his new CD for free. No, this is not a pirated or illegal copy. He put his CD as a free download on his website. The only two provisos for getting it are that you 1) have to let five people know about it before you are able to download, and 2) you can't be using an internet browser besides Internet Explorer (i.e. Mozilla, Netscape, etc). Great CD.

This is the last time I am going to mention this next item of interest. I think it might be a regular occurance for the next few months, so I am not going to bore you with repetition. Once again, I have worked a month without getting paid. lol. Uncertainty in finances is great. You scrimp and save and cut back on anything frivolous, and then when you do get paid...excess happens. First off, you pay all your bills. Then, you have a TON of cash available (b/c of your saving earlier). Now, if one were smart, one would not touch that extra cash, and save it so that finances didn't get QUITE so desperate later down the road. I try to, and succeed to a point. But I usually splurge a bit as well. Actually go out to eat at a restaurant, catch two or three movies, buy a movie or two for my personal collection. In case you are wondering, bills "did" get paid this month. My boss sat us down yesterday and gave us all $200 in cash to get us through the weekend. That paid the bills that were due the earliest (except for rent which is due in two days). We had gotten two HUGE orders out last week, so finances should have been in for us to get paid with...but the people who owned the planes and were supposed to pay for them, didn't. One guy hasn't given a dime yet, and the other decided to jerk us around and paid $1,200 out of the $11,000 job. He told the boss that the rest was in the "mail" and was supposed to get to us by Friday or Saturday. So we should be getting a month of back-pay on Tuesday. That will be nice to be able to go to my sis's wedding with enough cash to actually do stuff, buy her a wedding present, pay the folks for the plane ticket. Oh well, what happens, happens.

Besides that, not much is going on down here in Dallas. Oh wait, did you know that there is a man running for governor of Texas by the name of Kinky Friedmann? Yeah. There are a TON of bumper stickers "Kinky for gov." I crack up every time I see one. Seems that life is moving faster for everybody else in my life though. Two near death experiences in Tulsa (I know the details of one of them but not the other), lots of drama in the lives of past co-workers, mom running into medical problems (oh wait, that is kinda normal for her...love ya mom), wedding details starting to stress out the fam...the list goes on and on.

Hope everybody has a GREAT Labor Day weekend. Toss back a cold one for me.

skills

2006-08-20T16:29:00.000-05:00

I got 'em. I tell you, I am the MASTER. Unfortunately, it is at something that is a bit of a negative. I can screw up electronic devices better than anybody I know. Yep, I don't even have to touch it to cause it to mess up. Case in point.

I have been needing things to go up on my walls so that everything didn't look so spartan, boring, bland, empty (take your pick, come up with your own adjectives if you want to). My bedroom is cool in this department because I have several movie and band posters up. This is for my living room. On one wall, I have a poster of the world. The opposite wall has a single framed picture hanging from it. Small, black and white, it depicts the USS Bashaw. If my memory serves me right (which it fairly often does not), it was my Grandpa's last sub command. Between those two walls, run the length of my living room. One side is dominated by my computer screen which is projected onto the blank wall. The last wall in this quadrangle has my projector stand, a calender, a Barnum and Baileys clown hat, and a framed painting. There is NOTHING else on the walls. Pretty sad use of square-footage in my opinion. Now that I finally have some extra cash in hand, I went down to Walmart to have them develop and blow-up some pics I have taken over the last year. Here is where I get back to my intro.

I go in for a nice quick one hour develop of my seven digital pictures; so I figured I would just drop them off, spend some time browsing the electronics department, and do a bit of shopping. Hmm, Mrs. Corley would kill me for that run-on sentence. Enter the "Gilligan's Island" theme music. My first four pictures (just 5X7s) developed in that one hour time frame, but my enlargements (two 8x10s and one 8x12) were having some difficulties. No problem, I have NO plans for today so I could wait another 15-20 minutes till they printed. Uh-uh, not gonna happen. They jammed, they rolled up, they tore, they got stuck in the developer, they got chopped in half. THEY NEVER DEVELOPED PROPERLY. To amuse myself and pass the time, I snuck (sneaked?) a book from the book and magazine department into Subway (no McDonalds in this Walmart), bought myself a small drink, and proceeded to read. I finished the book and went back to check on the status of my pics. STILL not working properly. How much time has passed? Four hours. Yep, four hours. I couldn't get upset, I was laughing too hard. As I said earlier, I got skills. Finally, they gave up on developing them, and had me just use the Kodak kiosk to make my pictures, and then gave them to me for free. I had to pay for the small pictures, but not having to pay for the enlargements meant that could now afford a cool frame. It all worked out. Now I just have to decide exactly how and where I am going to hang my pictures, as well as get some matte paper for one of my smaller pics. Will take some pics and post them when I finally get everything up.

oops

2006-08-14T21:05:00.000-05:00

don't know why the video didn't work before, I fixed it now.

2fer Sunday

2006-08-13T17:28:00.000-05:00

I am here to give you your dinner and a movie tonight. I shall start with the movie, so you have something to listen to while you read. The movie (music video actually) is from Evanescence. One of my favorite bands just put out a new single, video, and are putting out a new album beginning of October. Typical of this band is great music, interesting lyrics, and a trippy video. In this case, the video is her take of the "Little Red Rding Hood" story.

The dinner now is what I had for lunch. Farokh Shwami Chicken with a taboush (?) salad. Served with Pita bread and humus, washed down with Vitmo soda. Not a fan of humus, but the rest of the meal was incredible. Let me back up. This is from a Mediterranean restaurant that I pass every day on my home from work, so I don't really know what ethnicity of food it is. I am thinking Lebanese, but I could be WAY off. The soda, though coming in a can with Arabic writing on it, is an English soda. Packaged in almost the same formula since 1908. Killer flavor, a mix or rasberry and black currant. The salad was a crisp mixture of iceberg and romaine lettuce, tomatoes, cucumbers, sliced radishes (ugh), and topped in a tart oil, vinegar, and spices dressing. By far, the best part of the meal was the chicken. Oh...my...goodness. It was incredible. It was a shish-kabob with the stick, chicken was basted in some God-blessed concoction that was divine. Grilled to perfection so that it was still incredible moist.

To top it all off, I purchased some "gelato." They had about 16 flavors, along with 20 or 30 types of baklava and falafel if you had a serious sweet tooth. Let me say that they Mango gelato is to DIE for. It tastes like they took the perfect ripe mangoes (sweet yet still with a good sour zing to them), whipped them up, and froze 'em. I could spend all day, and every last dime I own eating that stuff. Come by in a week and you would be rolling an extremely fat, dirty, happy man out the door.

huh?

2006-08-13T17:20:00.000-05:00

I found this website about a month ago. I still don't know where he is coming from. Read all his posts to the bottom of the screen and I can guarantee that you will be scratching your head.

"I've go' a brother 'ho wo'ks in a circus" (say it in a cockney accent)

2006-08-08T21:01:00.000-05:00

I totally had "Dumbo" on the brain today. Clips of the clowns running around "trying" to put out fires, the elephants going into their tower, that crazy mouse acting like a muse...running like an out of control cracked record.

I saw the Ringling Bros. circus today at the AA Center, and it was very good. As good as it was, I wish that they still did things under the Big Top. More "authentic," although you can't get more authentic than them. Oh well. I had a blast. Laughed out loud multiple times (shocking I know), felt like a little kid again, took a million pictures (I might even get paid for them), and paid an exhorbitant amount of money for cotton candy. Did you know that cotton candy costs $10? RIDICULOUS.

Had a couple of pics turn out SOOOO much better than I thought they would, and others turn out just so-so. Got one that combined the best parts of a circus (clowns and midgets). They had a midget clown. Saw her walk out and almost fell over laughing. It was perfect.

I now want to run away with a circus. Could you all just pay my bills here in Dallas for a year while I travel with a circus? You will? Ah, thanks a mil. Don't worry, I will keep in touch on the road. Might even invite you to the wedding if me and the bearded lady get together...on second thought, scratch that last one. ;)

This is one of my favorite pics I took. A mistake on my part that turned out looking nice. This next picture brings to mind what a "trip" on LSD might look like.

signs

2006-08-08T20:57:00.000-05:00

I so wish that I could ride my bike while carrying a camera. I saw two signs outside of buildings that had me about falling off my bike b/c of laughing. Sign #1 was "Closed for Lunch"...in the window of an Italian restaurant. Sign #2 was great because of how the people were able to laugh at themselves. It was "Church attendance...come early for a back seat."...the signboard for a Baptist church.

And then there was a sign in front of my library that is SO true. "Children learn to become readers from the laps of their parents." This is so true for my family. We all love to read (except my bro, he just "likes" it, it isn't a passion for him) because of how much books played such a large part of our growing up due to mom and dad reading to us virtually every night. That and the fact that we didn't have TV, so we had to use the TV in our heads.

option "C"

2006-07-29T12:48:00.000-05:00

I didn't even think that there would/could be an option C to the situation below. There was...and it happened. We got paid on Friday. For that weeks work. All of my back-ordered paychecks are still unpaid. This paycheck was given to us in cash (no chance for THAT to bounce) so I am able to do a little triage on my bills. Juggle this here, that there, and hold off on this bill till later. Supposedly, we are to get everything caught up on Monday, Tuesday at the latest. Which means that all my bills, except rent, will be paid on time. Rent (depending on if we get paid cash or check) might end up a couple of days late. Talked to housing, and they are cool with that...no late fee assessed unless it is like a week past the grace period.

In other words, I have been able to perform some surgery, but there is still blood in the water and the sharks are still circling.

Prayer...

2006-07-27T18:50:00.000-05:00

...I need as much as you got. Through no fault of my own, due to circumstances WAY out of my control, I have now worked the entire month of July without pay. Let me break it down for you. July 4th weekend...I go to Kansas to be with the fam for a camping trip, drive back down, have my bike break down, get it fixed, and then work the last two days of that week. That paycheck (for the week before of work) was $474. It bounced. The next weeks paycheck (for only two days of work) was $212. I just found out that it bounced as well. Last week, my boss sat the entire crew down and explained how and why we were not going to be able to be paid on Friday. No problem, I had $212 in the bank...psyche. I THOUGHT I did, turns out I was wrong. Because of that, my check I wrote to cover my bike payment is going to bounce. Anyway, he said that he would be able to pay us both weeks paychecks this week. As of today, still no paycheck for last week. Hopefully, prayerfully, I will be receiving a paycheck tomorrow of $474, plus the last two weeks of pay, and possibly the $212 that I will be informing him about first thing in the morning. Now...if all those checks come through for me tomorrow, it will be a payday in the range of $1,600 and change. If that does happen, I will have to wait until Monday to find out if they cleared or not. If so, I am home free with a large chunk of change in the coffers extra. If you have small children reading...change the channel for a couple of minutes. If they don't...I am (pardon my french) fucked. Up shit creek with no paddle...and a hole in my canoe. Pissing up a rope.

:edit: FUBAR (fucked up beyond all recognitions) so I guess I'll just have to FIDO (fuck it, drive on). Shit outta Luck :edit:

Is that possibility bothering me? Hmmm...read those last couple of sentences and decide for yourself. Now I know that everything is going to work out someway, somehow. My faith in God is enough to see that happening. Where the doubt comes in is in the timing. I want it all to happen like this...Paycheck Friday, sent to the bank Friday, worked through the system on Saturday, rest on Sunday, money in the account on Monday for me to pay all of my bills and not get charged hefty late fees. Now none of my bills are due before 4th...so technically, the money could find its way to me by Wednesday night so that I could get everything squeaked in under the wire. I hope it doesn't come down to that. If it does...or goes longer...asi es la vida. God wanted it to happen for some reason, so I will just live with it. Always wondering why it DID work out like that, and then just have to ask Him about it when I see Him. Pray for me...I need it big time. Don't even pray that I get the finances in time, God has that planned out already. Pray for ME. That I won't stress, or do something crazy like what struck me in the shower after work (work at a strip club as a bouncer {decent pay, on a steady schedule, no wondering if the paycheck is coming, and cash in hand at the end of every night}) ;) Amazing what moments of weakness will have you thinking about. All you who know me are probably thinking, "Am I reading the right blog? Ben? Stress? Worry? What? He NEVER stresses." You are right, but now I am. Good-evening and good-night. I eagerly anticipate your prayers in this matter.

saw it, was curious

2006-07-26T23:16:00.000-05:00

i thought I was much nerdier than this...guess that is why there are tests.

Camping...(how to meet drug runners)

2006-07-22T23:44:00.000-05:00

Watch, two days after this post, I am going to be raided my the ATF, the FBI, CIA, and Interpol. Oh well, the price is worth it for this good story.

A fellow blogger told a story about standing in a police line-up to help ID an identity thief. So here is my story on my criminal acquaintances.

Growing up in Mexico, me and my dad were never really all that close. It has gotten a TON better since then, but wasn't all there in high-school. My dad, after much thoughtful deliberation, decided to combine several of the things us kids like the most, in order to get closer to all of us. What was this idea? It was a solo camping trip at the edge of the canyon, which was 5 hours by car, 2 hours by bike away. I don't know if he did this with the girls or not, but for us guys, we would load up the two motorcycles with supplies and head out. I know he went with the girls, but the method of transportation is unclear.

So here we are, two sleeping bags, one tent, a camp stove, a tarp, food for lunch, dinner, and breakfast the next morning, clothes, and two motorcycles (Yamaha BW 200s). Notice anything missing? Oh yeah...matches. Yes, we forgot matches on a camping trip. That 2 hour bike ride? Turned into a Gilligan's Island adventure. Four and a half hours after setting out, we finally made it to the camp-site. Granted, the trip would have only been four hours (due to getting lost), but the bike my dad was driving (our partner's bike) decided to deflate its rear tire. We thought it might happen b/c it was looking a little triste (sad) from the multiple slashes in the sidewalls.

So, after pulling his bike WAY off the road, and draping shrubbery on it in a meager attempt to camo it, we transfer all of his stuff to my bike and we continue the saga on just one set of wheels. I thought that the bike was loaded with gear before, now it was like "The Beverly Hillbillys." So, we finally get to the campsite, set up the tent, lay out the sleeping bags, and proceed to lay out the fare. Uh oh, no matches, no lighter, nothing. Oh wait...I had brought a cheapo home-made telescope to look at the stars. If we use one of the lenses, we might be able to get it going! So here we are, huddled over a pile of dry oak leaves, using gas from the tank as lighter fluid, trying to coax a flame to life...as the sun is setting over the hills. Finally, as the sun slips that last 1/8 of an inch over the mountain tops, a few wisps of smoke signal the birth of our flame. I swear, Tom Hanks' dance as he births fire was NOTHING compared to ours. After roasting marshmellows, star gazing, and all that other camping crap, we finally hit the sack.

About 15 minutes later, we hear a truck come down the road, stop, and turn off its engine. My dad opines, "That is either drug runners, or the governtment going after drug runners." In the morning, we wake up, have breakfast, and proceed to hike down the canyon wall to explore the river that is WAY down below us. On the way to the trail down, we pass a decrepit POS of a truck (drug runners we now know). About half-way down the canyon wall we come to this little "saddle" where two trails meet ours. From there, we look down and see about six gentlemen trekking up toward us, so we decide to stop, rest, and chat with them when they arrive. Five minutes later, we hear this huffing and puffing from the second trail...and around the corner comes this guy chugging up the hill carrying two grocery bags FULL of fresh-picked marijuana leaves. He screeches to a halt when he sees us, then realizing that we are NOT government men, he saunters our way.

"Hey, what are you guys doing out here?"
"Oh nothing. Just came out for a camping trip."
"Oh, I see. Hey, have you ever see a fresh picked llerba buena (marijuana) plant before?"
"No, can't say I have."
"Here, take a couple. In fact, if you want too, keep 'em."

So here we are, two missionary men, feeling, smelling, and playing around with almost $300 in fresh, pure, marijuana. Yeah, I will never forget that sick/sweet smell.

I forget who was struck with the thought, but one of us realized that these "law abiding" gentlemen might be our ticket out of there, and that they could give the broken bike a lift back towards civilization. We therefore said our goodbyes and booked it back up the trail to the campsite. We threw everything together, packed up my bike, and blitzed our way back down the road to where we had stashed the second one. From there, I split from my dad and headed home to grab our work truck and head back for him. He on the other hand, started to push the bike toward home. Fast forward almost three hours.

I am now on my way back, in our beater Toyota, and cookin' along this dirt road doing like 45 mph. As I round this nice long bend, here comes the drug runner's truck doing 60. As we both swerve OFF the road to avoid each other, I see my dad clinging desperately to the cab as he almost gets thrown out. I back up, help my dad get the bike out of their truck and into ours, say "Ciao" to the men, and head back home. My dad summed "them" up with these very profound words, "Nice guys...CRAZY drivers."

concerts

2006-07-21T21:12:00.000-05:00

I love free concerts. For one, it is free. Two, and even better, is that you can bring any camera that you want to take pictures. You pay for a concert, and the only thing you can take in is a small digital camera or a camera phone. Free, you can take the big guns. Anyway, I saw Los Lonely Boys today (alright, since I am posting this after midnight, I guess I should say yesterday) for free. I have been a "fan" of theirs for a bit. I liked their music, could ID them on the radio, but had never downloaded or bought any of their music. Yeah, after that concert? I'm hooked. They have a great rockabilly blues sound with a Latin flavor to it. Sort of a new version of Carlos Santana. Cool thing, I think they are Christians, if not...they're good Catholics. Clean lyrics, good music, KILLER playing chops. I tell you what, they can play their instruments. The lead singer/vocalist rocks out a Fender through a Marshall half-stack. The bassist? Now this guy knows how to strut his stuff onstage. He nailed a rock solid bass line (as well as crooning the back-up vocals) on a top of the line Hohner BBass VI...and he used all six strings, and the entire neck, plus strummed it like a guitar at times. Serious props to these guys. Now any band worth their salt has a couple of sound techs that run the front of house sound, and they have at least one guy that preps the instruments. Restrings and retunes all the guitars, plugs everything in, makes sure it all sounds good. Their prep guy was a god on the guitars. While tuning and testing he ripped out some blistering licks on the Fenders, and layed down some beautiful low end lead on the bass. My hat goes off to him.

Experiment

2006-07-20T20:28:00.000-05:00

I like food. No, I love food. Any kind. Well...with a couple of exceptions, I will eat anything put in front of me (cooked tomatoes, black eyed peas, asparagus). Of course, because I will eat anything, my normal fare is rather mundane and boring (mac and cheese, hamburger helper, or nothing at all). Every once in a while, I decide to experiment with what I have and see what comes out. My shrimp pasta, cooked in red wine with garlic, onion, mrs. Dash, and lemon powder turned out phenom. Tonights fare might be interesting though. A pound of boneless chicken breast, simmered/boiled in red wine that has chili powder and "special seasoning" in it. The chicken was first treated to a Jamaican jerk rub. Whatever turns out, I will still eat it...the question is will I enjoy it. :P lol, somedays I crack myself up. I shall weight in with the verdict in about an hour. If nobody hears from me in the next 48 hours (e-mail, phone, blog) send out the search party, I might be in dire straights laying on the floor in my apt.

:edit: And he tasted and it was VERY good. If anybody wants the recipe...don't ask. I just mixed, matched, dashed, and rubbed. Very Emirel Legase

20 minuts of fun

2006-07-19T22:13:00.000-05:00

I mentioned I had fun today. Yeah, that should be "fun." Now at my job we have to move a lot of airplanes around. Move them out of the hanger, into the hanger, around the lot, go get planes to work on, take planes back that we have finished with. You get the picture. So far, I have either towed planes with the tug, in a strictly forward direction, or moved/backed up planes by sheer brute force. Today, I got to do it all with the tug. Let me say that backing a plane up with a tug is probably one of the hardest things I have ever done. I can back up a trailer no problem. A plane though has an extra pivot point, because of the nose wheel. That REALLY throws off my groove. Now it wouldn't have been such a big deal if I had gotten to do it on a Cessan 172 for a while. The reason why is b/c it doesn't matter how cock-eyed and chueco you get, you won't damage the nosegear. The two planes I got to work with though were planes that cost about $500,000 each (pictured above), and have a very narrow turn on the nosewheel. You turn too far, things break. Those things cost about $30,000. Would I have to pay for it if I broke it? Probably. At least some of it. THAT is why I had a fun 20 minutes. Stressing out hardcore about turning it too sharp, and all the other guys who are helping me are going, "You got it, just a bit more. Now straighten up. No, turn left...left...your other left." Crap like that. Oh yeah, it was almost 100 today. Cooler than the 107 yesterday, and the 106 the day before, but still blazing. The tug has no power steering, and all the turns are done at a stand-still or just creeping, so it makes the steering wheel even harder to turn. In the space of four minutes, I formed a blister, popped that blister, and then had it peel off.

Yeah, the day was cool except for that. I love my job.

Movies

2006-07-19T19:58:00.000-05:00

Life has been pretty boring lately, except for twenty minutes of today, so I thought that I would mention some movies that are coming out soon that I will probably have to see.

First, Spiderman 3. Does there really have to be a reason to want to watch this movie? I don't think so. Still, I will give one. THEY BRING IN VENOM. Probably one of the best villians I have seen in the comic books, and it looks like they are going to do him justice. Love it, can't wait till next summer.

Second, The Science of Sleep. This movie is here mainly b/c of I don't know. Watch the trailer and decide for yourself. It looks intriguing, and just a quite a bit "novel."

Third, Renaissance. I have always been a fan of black and white. Pictures and movies always seem to strike a deeper chord when monochrome. Lately, there have been all too few. The first foray into the black and white animation for movies movie, was "Sin City." Based on the comic novels of Frank Miller, it had the look and feel of the comic, while still in movie "setting." Renaissance on the other hand seems more like a comic come to life. The storyline itself looks intriguing, but the animation of it is what makes it stand out. Very cool.

Fourth, Crossing the Bridge. Anyone who knows me knows I LOVE music. Any music. It doesn't matter genre or style, I will find at least one song that I really like. A movie about music, foreign music? Rock on.

Fifth, Call me a sucker for punishment, but I will see this movie. Probably not in the main theater, but when it hits the cheap seats, only b/c it will never be able to stand up to the original.

Sixth, The Fountain. I have been jonesing for this movie since I first saw the preview in 2004.

Seventh, 300. There are no previews, only video journals of the making of the movie. Based on the comic of Frank Miller as well, this is about the Battle of Thermopolye. Always been a fan of that brawl, can't wait to see how it is done for the Silver Screen. Alright, that is enough of your night spent going from link to link, so I will bid "Adieu."

awkward

2006-07-16T17:50:00.000-05:00

This picture has nothing to do with the post, just thought it was funny.

So, as I trolled through the depths of cyberspace yesterday, i ran across an old friend. I clicked on his myspace account and proceeded to follow the links until I had found all of my old church friends from back in Waukesha. A little bit later, I did the exact same thing with all my college buddies from Waukesha. Now here is the awkward part. I have found them...but I haven't talked to any of them in about two years. if not more for some. How do I go about introducing myself to them again? I am thinking that I just wait until I think of a comment to post on one of their blogs, and slip in all sly like. Or maybe just try to add them to my friends list on my own myspace account. Who knows. We shall see how this all goes down.

Last great hurrah

2006-07-13T20:51:00.000-05:00

Thanks to everybody that has called, texted, emailed, and posted. Yes, yesterday was my anniversary day. I just celebrated that last "good" birthday of my life. Actually, maybe not. If I break 100, that is a good birthday as well. Seeing as how I know nobody in town, I listened to all the voice-mails I had received while at work, changed into some clean clothes I had brought with me to work, and treated myself to a good dinner. The restaurant is called Sambuca and is styled as Mediterranean Jazz. As it turns out, it is a 4-star restaurant with an extensive wine list, no mediterranean dishes, and a great cigar humidor. The best part is...live music every night. Sometimes it is Jazz (it was when I dropped by), sometimes blues, rock, country, and even alt-Euro (one night this entire month). The band was a three piece set: one man playing a 100 yr. Steinway piano, a guy on the bass, and of course, one gentleman on a small trap set. They played a couple of cover songs (Miles Davis, Ella Fitzgerald) but their main repertoire was improv; and they were good at it. So, after I was done drinking my Savignon Mont-blanc, finished with my seafood ravioli, and had completely savored my Macanudo Premiere, I tabbed out. With tip I walked out of the restaurant $68 poorer. Good thing I only do a meal like that every 25 years.

As I started down the road, I looked at the time, 8:00. I had just spent three hours at a restaurant. Is that sad? or impressive? Either way, I had a good time. I drove home, tried to get online, was rebuffed by a frisky internet connection, took a shower, and then went to bed...at 10:00. I now eagerly await the presents that my family and Megan mailed down to me. Unfortunately, they shipped UPS, which delivers between 10 and 2. Who do they expect to sign for the package? I work. Oh well, I guess I shall just have to call UPS and have them hold it at the main hub for me to pick up later.

good music

2006-07-10T20:42:00.000-05:00

So I heard this new band on the radio today. Hard rock. Crashing drums, driving guitars, slamming bass, and then the twist. This etherial voice comes lilting in over the music for a measure...and then turns into an almost primal roar. I must say, it gave me chills. Turns out, this band is a local Texas band, touring heavily in the states with the likes of P.O.D., Korn, Bowling for Soup, and Evanescence. Even more amazing, they are unabashadly "Christian." One song is called "Carrie," dedicated to Carrie of Columbine. Another is about living fully alive even when you are in pain and life sucks. This band is called "Flyleaf." Here is the video for the song I heard, let me know what you think of them. By the by, their website is www.flyleafmusic.com if you want to check the bio and read the lyrics to their songs.

random

2006-07-09T21:24:00.000-05:00

If you want to almost pee your pants from laughing so hard, I highly recommend that you visit this site.

:edit: The video to watch is "Numa Numa"

I read about it on TJ McCloud's blog, and I agree with his statement, "Somebody really damaged this kid a long time ago. I would suggest you watch both the "original version" and the "with subtitles."

Bought an awesome CD yesterday. It is "Garden" by Zero7. If you like music that flows to the beat of a different drummer (i.e. anything besides mainstream), check this out. Especially check out track 2 "Throw It All Away." The musical styling is almost a meld of Pink Floyd's "Dark Side of the Moon" and anything by Chuck Mangione.

So Italy won the World Cup. Final score was 5-3 after penalty kicks. Crazy thing about it all was that the intial two goals (one for France, one for Italy) were both scored before twenty minutes of play elapsed. The next 100 minutes were scoreless. Except for one "small" instance, the game was the definition of "joga bonito." That instance was Zidane doing the stupidest thing in the world, headbutting a player in the chest for no apparent reason. He got red-carded so he wasn't even able to pick up his silver medal. Bad way to end his career. Oh well, his life, his rules, he gets to live with the consequences. I caught the game in an Irish pub with about 200 other fanatics.

This guy in particular was crazy. I thought he was going to have a stroke or an aneurism with how worked up he got.

For those of you that know me in Nebraska, you might be able to see this from this pic. The guy totally looked like Wiemann, sounded like him, clapped like him, and got worked up like him. It was so freaky. I had a blast watching him.

funny

2006-07-08T20:08:00.000-05:00

only on the internet, especially in a blog, can you find something this random. It was a person commenting on a picture in a blog out of Tehran, Iran. The comment was in spanish, written by somebody that has forgotten English in order to learn French. By the way, the blog is here, and the comment is for the picture of the woman leading a horse.

Community...

2006-07-05T20:25:00.000-05:00

...is a necessity. Follow me as I meander, and at the end of our journey, let me know if I come close to hitting the mark. All my life I considered myself as a loner. A "cat" if you will. There are cat people and dog people. Dog people are the extroverts, must always be around people, and quite often are the center of attention. Cat people are more introverted. Being around people, but seperate. On the outskirts of the crowd, or they just shun the crowd entirely and sit on the veranda sipping their cocktail of choice, listening to the laughter, watching the night, and quite often wishing that they could feel comfortable "in" the crowd. That was me. Oh, I could get into the crowd and have fun. Usually it was only so I could hide behind a camera. Every party or gathering I would join in, but feel completely alone, and I was always hoping that someone (hopefully that beautiful woman three feet away with the brown eyes and great smelling tresses, but it could be anybody really) would look over and invite me in...to community.

You see, there is a difference between community and friendship. I have had, without bragging, hundreds of friends. Many of them very close. But even in a group of friends, close friends, I was alone. With every laugh, every smile, every joke, every tear, a little part of me died. I never really felt that I fit in. That I was accepted. That I was wanted. Was I there because of "me"? Or because I was a friend of so-and-so, and it wasn't polite to invite them without inviting me? I can't speak for you, but I have come to the realization that I am/was not alone in that feeling. Quite often, the people who "fit" in the group felt/feel the same way.

To paraphrase a wise man, "To know and be known..." I "know" Poet, LL, Reflections, and Monkeyhouse (just to name a few), but do they know me? Notice, "know" was in quotations. I know them as friends, and a little more, but do I know them...or the "real" them? Friendship? Or Community? Personally, I feel that what I feel for most of my close friends this last two years IS community. And yet I wonder. God, do I hate my insecurities. And we continue to seek community in whatever way we can find it. If we are comfortable with it, it is going to bars and trying to pick up a good looking specimen of the opposite sex. It might be buying a nice car, because you now fit into the "community" of other owners of that car. There is a common denominator that allows easy conversation between you and that other person. You could buy a boat, or a bike. As I talked with Poet about when I visited last. Bikers are a great community. It doesn't matter what you ride (cruiser, foreign, crotch rocket), you are always giving complements about any bike you come across, and you wave at every biker you pass, and if you sit next to one at a stop light you talk to them. THAT was a run-on to make Mrs. Corley curl into a ball and whimper for a month. Same with boats. You own a boat. You wave at every other boater you cross. If at a lakeside concert or some other event where there are a multitude of boats, you tie up together until there is a good size chain of you sitting stern to stern. You don't care if you are a Boston whaler, a Catalina 400, or the Queen Elizebeth 2. And this is all to feel community. Quite often, you aren't friends with the person. You have never seen them before in your life, but there is a sense of community there. And for a time, that hole if filled.

Another example. I was walking down the road today, going from the bike shop where my bike was waiting to be worked on, and the Honda dealership down the road. To get there, I had to walk along this road that had a nice flat, un-cluttered verge of grass to walk on...no sidewalk. There was a definite path worn down in the grass that wandered a bit back and forth. Without thinking about it, I followed the path about half the distance. Then the thought struck me, "Why am I following this path?" It didn't wind around obstacles, I could "cut cross-country" and I would be walking in a straight line (not windy), over cut grass (not much longer than that on the path). Why did I follow the path then? It was no easier than going cross country, but I did it anyway. Call it a herd mentality or community, you feel closer when following where others have gone before. You don't feel alone. I DID leave the trail, but it took an almost palpable effort of will to do it.

My mother this last weekend, said over the campfire, that it seemed like it didn't bother me too much to strike out on my own and move to places where I knew not one soul. Moving from Nebraska to Tulsa to Dallas. And I agreed with her, but that thought has rankled in my brain for almost three days now. It DOES bother me. I hate it. I can no longer even hide in friendships and try to pass that off as community. I am truly alone, and my soul ACHES because of it. I know, I know, God is with me. I know that, but so often I don't feel it. And then I do feel it, but that moment isn't enough to help the days/weeks/months. Phone calls and emails help with this. Maybe this is why I started to blog, it is even more personalbe than phone or email. The ability to stay in touch is a God-send, but I need flesh and blood contact. To see the soul of the person through their eyes. Poetangel captures that feeling great here. I honestly feel that the lack of community is why so many college students, and especially graduated MKs, go completely stir crazy in college. They are searching for community in frat houses, sorority bashes, night clubs, and in the arms/bed of another person and when they can't find it, drinking and drugs are used to dull the pain of the lack.

My, my, how I have rambled here and yon, rabbit trail leading to rabbit trail. I used the past tense when describing myself earlier, "I considered myself as a loner." That was no accident. I am a dog. A cat can come and go from people. Dogs go insane if left behind. Only thing is, a dog lets you know that as he is left...a human just hurts, buries it, goes on, and gets an ulcer. No more. I am a "dog." Leave me behind, and I will be vocal. Leave you behind, and I will howl. Come, commune with me; and if you can't, let us make the heavens shake, shiver, and moan as our cries go out into the night because of the loss we feel for each other. This is me, is this you? We have reached the end of this journey. I believe I have never been this open and bare to anyone in my life and so I now quote Yeats.

Had I the heavens’ embroidered cloths,

Enwrought with the golden and silver light,

The blue and the dim and the dark cloths

Of night and light and half-light,

I would spread the cloths under your feet

But I, being poor, have only my dreams;

I have spread my dreams beneath your feet;

Tread softly because you tread on my dreams…

William Butler Yeats

Know me, that I may know you.

Action Hero

2006-07-05T17:49:00.000-05:00

Thank you Kyle for leading me here. This is me.

You scored as Captain Jack Sparrow. Roguish,quick-witted, and incredibly lucky, Jack Sparrow is a pirate who sometimes ends up being a hero, against his better judgement. Captain Jack looks out for #1, but he can be counted on (usually) to do the right thing. He has an incredibly persuasive tongue, a mind that borders on genius or insanity, and an incredible talent for getting into trouble and getting out of it. Maybe its brains, maybe its genius, or maybe its just plain luck. Or maybe a mixture of all three.

Captain Jack Sparrow

96%

Maximus

75%

William Wallace

75%

Indiana Jones

71%

James Bond, Agent 007

54%

Lara Croft

50%

The Terminator

50%

El Zorro

50%

Neo, the "One"

50%

The Amazing Spider-Man

38%

Batman, the Dark Knight

33%

Which Action Hero Would You Be? v. 2.0
created with QuizFarm.com

Ah well, typical of me, I some how screwed up the link and lost the pic. At least everything else came through

pithy sayings

2006-06-28T21:46:00.000-05:00

Everybody knows pithy sayings about pain. Feel free to follow along out-loud. "Pain is weakness leaving the body." "Pain helps build character." I came up with a new one today. "Pain is nature's way of teaching you new variations of cusswords." And here is the corollary to that, "Pain is your body's way of telling you that you might just be a masochist." Okay, maybe not a corollary, but a separate saying.

You might be asking yourself, "Self, WHY did he come up with those two sayings?" Here's why. They have been flitting around in the dank, moldy, corners of my brain since I started working. The reason why is b/c right now, my hands look like hamburger. I have cut myself so many times, my cuts are starting to criss-cross. And I have "talent" to cutting myself too. Take an engine's piston for example. No sharp edges, large, very blunt. Yeah, I cut myself...good. Nah, "cut" is too mild, "filleted" fits better. We were about half-way through a top overhaul on this engine when it happened. Trying to put the cylinders back on the pistons, so that we could bolt them to the block, is always a trial. The rings don't want to squeeze together, tight fit, not a lot of room to work with anyway. Pain in the butt. Anywho, as I was hammering away on the piston pin boss (cap), my hand slipped, and WHAM, straight along the bottom edge of that piston. Nice big cut. By the time we got it together and I finally stopped to dress my wound, there was a good bit of blood on the floor. No, I didn't get stitches. Yes, it has been packed full of grease, dirt, and oil every day since then. Amazingly enough, not infected.

Fast forward a week, to this last Monday. One of my jobs that day was to change the tire on our tug. Pretty easy job, but getting the tire apart was impossible. Our air-impact wrench only gets about 90 lbs of force, I needed about 200. So, I have the nut of the bolts in a large wrench, and one of the other guys has a socket attatched to a HUGE breaker bar on the bold itself. Finally, the nuts start to break loose. And then, my wrench slips off, SMASHING my thumb into the rim. This in turn split my thumb from the cuticle of my thumbnail, straight into that aforementioned cut. No blood, lots of pain, tons of sub-conscious swearing. We try it again, and it slips again. This time it splits my thumb on the opposite side of the nail. Needless to say, I wasn't thinking very "Christian" thoughts then.

Fast forward to today. I am checking the tail cone on a plane, which forces me to get under the plane, crouched under the elevator (small wings that rotate up and down at the back). As I proceeded to get under there, I didn't duck quite enough. Yep, I cut myself on the edge of the metal, through my shirt. Right where I was sunburned from the day before. What is it about a sunburn that makes "anything" hurt more.

This all explains the first saying. Why the second one came to being is because I LOVE this job. Pain and all.

Update

2006-06-28T21:21:00.000-05:00

Alright, alright. I know I have been remiss in updating everyone in the biggest detail of my miniscule life here in the Big D. I got a job. As everyone noticed...and pointed out, I have a job. Unlike my last job, I actually love this job. It is a shorter commute in miles, but takes longer to get there and get back. The reason for this interesting phenomenon is Dallas rush hour traffic. My last job was 38 miles away, and took me about 35 minutes to get there. This job is 23 miles away and takes me 40 minutes minimum, about 50 max. Of course, that is a whole different ballgame coming home. If I have to take the interstate back (i.e. errands, crap like that), it takes an hour and a half to get home. That is just drive time, not counting the time taken to "do" the errand. Thank the Lord one of the guys I work with new a quicker route, so I now take the "back" roads and make it in 40 minutes flat. Sad, so very sad.

Now I know, you are all getting ready to beat me, since I haven't yet told you what I do. Well, don't swing yet, I am about to reveal "the JOB." It is working for a small airplane repair hanger. The adjective "small" denotes the size of the operation, plus the size of plane we work on. There are four mechanics (me included) who work on small Cessnas, Pipers, and Mooneys. This work can be electrical, structural, or engine. Which is PERFECT for what I need practice on if I am going to make it in my dream of being a missionary pilot. Work starts at 8, ends at 5, has two 15 minute breaks, and an hour lunch break. So far, I have worked through most of my small breaks, and the longest lunch I have taken in 30 minutes. Nice easy way to get some overtime pay in.

Being the new guy means that while I do get some of the easy jobs (close those panels, reinstall those seats, get me that ELT batter), I am also thrown into large jobs. My second week on the job I helped do a top overhaul of an engine. That was fun .:said in a VERY dry, sarcastic tone:. This job will be mentioned in my next blog post (15 minutes from now). All in all, I am totally enjoying myself, enjoying the experience, and trying to find someplace to move to that is closer to work.

good times

2006-06-27T19:51:00.000-05:00

Some days I appreciate my upbringing more than other days. Take Friday for instance. Actually, back up even farther...to a month ago. That is how long it has been since a haircut. While my hair was nowhere near as long as some of you have seen it, it was too long to be wearing a helmet. The reason for that length of time is that it has been that long without a paycheck. When I was still looking for a job, I said to myself, "Self, first thing you do when you get your first check...is get a haircut." So, I did. This last Friday, got off of work, drove home, took a shower, grabbed a bite to eat, and headed out the door...at 7:15 PM. Sad thing is, this time lapse was not b/c of me going slow, but b/c of how late I get home b/c of traffic (that was a lot of "because" in one short run-on sentence). Anywho, I head out the door to look for a chop shop and pass a couple that didn't look quite like the kind I wanted. Finally I find one I like, and it is closed. They close at 7. So, I turn around and head back to the first one I had seen. As I pull up, I see three little latino "chavitos" running around being watched by their dad. I don't think anything of it and walk inside. As soon as I step through the door, BANG it hits me like a Mack truck. The memories of being handed 10 Pesos to go down the street to the corner stylist come flooding back. Same look, same show being shown on the TV, and I am once again, the only white gringo in the establishment.

That is correct, I have wandered my way into a Mexican barbershop. I chuckle to myself while trying not to grin like an idiot. Funny thing is, I had almost stopped into a "taqueria" just so that I could speak some spanish and knock the socks off the wait staff. Now I get to do it anyway. So I sit down, smile and nod at the mom sitting across from me, and grab a 3 month old copy of People to pass the time. There are two ladies working, one cutting hair while the other starts to close up shop. Therefore (must use proper english, even in cyberspace...when you remember too that is), I just sit and wait expecting one to be helped any second. Those seconds lead to minutes, to a mexican gentleman coming in and being sat down immediately for a cut. I continue to read, listen, and absorb the atmosphere contendedly. Finally, the "closing" lady tentatively approaches, catches my attention, and motions to the chair. As I sit down (totally off topic real quick, Shemekiah Copeland rocks. Her song"Have Me" just came on on my music player. Damn this woman can belt the blues.) she VERY brokenly starts to ask me how long I want it on the top. I cut her off and in spanish rattle off that I want it extremely short on the sides and finger cut very short on top. Her and her cutting partner almost dropped dead in their shoes in suprise. The guy next to me glances over and starts chuckling as the ladies start to giggle, laugh, and try to apologize to me.

It seems that the reason for the length of time that elapsed for my wait were because they didn't know how to approach me and find out what I wanted. I laughed, told them it was alright, and proceeded to talk to the about how I learned it and all that other riggamarolle. When I was finally released from the chair, the ladies asked me if I was going to be coming back.

That is a very strong affirmative. I love suprising people, it warms the cockles of my heart. Next time I go, I am going to try to make it a bit earlier so there are more people there. I can guarantee that those ladies have told stories about me to almost everybody that has gone in since. Yep, I definitely appreciated my upbringing right then. Without it, I would have stepped in, and done a quick about face. Instead, I got to enjoy myself, and feed the gossip machine for a couple days. Definitely worth the wait.

P.S. I hate technolgy some days. I pen this tale and my wireless connection decides to take a crapper. Who knows when this will ever see the light of day.

:edit: 24 hours, that is the length of wait

Band wagon

2006-06-18T21:54:00.000-05:00

To hop on the aforementioned wagon, I propose a toast. To our fathers. For good or bad, hopefully the former, you have made us who we are today and what kind of father we will be in the future (if you're a guy, that is). To my father. For teaching me to always use the right tool for the job (i.e. use a screwdriver as a chisel if you have to), to measure 2, 3, 4 times and cut only once. For showing me that it is never too late to start over and fix old mistakes. Thank you for the advice you have told me, the example you have shown me, and the encouragement you have given me through the years.

To all the dads I know and love. Keep up the good work. Never lose the awe, wonder, and joy you feel now when your children are small. To the dads who are soon to be dads or want to be dads in the future, find you men like reflections, barefootpoet, and sacreddiscontent and pick their brains. If they don't know an anwer, they can find you someone who does.

man vs. God

2006-06-17T23:30:00.000-05:00

Now, you might think this is going to be some philosophical thesis worthy of Oxford, Cambridge, or maybe Dallas Theological Seminary. It isn't. Coming home today from Border's Bookstore I had a hard time keeping my eyes on the road. This was because God put on a great fireworks show tonight. Granted, it wasn't as great as some I have seen, but nonetheless, it was spectacular. I remember the best one I've had the privilege to see. It was back home in Norfolk. Now every year, on the 3d of July, there is a HUGE fireworks display. Called "Big, Bang, Boom", it normally costs a couple of hundred thousand dollars to set up. According to a couple of newspapers, it is one of the biggest, best shows in the States. Now, my parent's house at the time was 1/2 a mile from the lake that the show took place at. B/c of that, our view was perfect. We could stay home, not battle the crowds or try to find parking spaces...grill out, whatever. God decided to see if the team that put it on could match His bag of tricks. Just about 10 minutes after the show started, a rather large thunderstorm rolled in. The lake was to our south, the storm to the north. At first, the show was winning. Lots of cool colors, loud bangs, a couple of car alarms going off...great show. That didn't last too long. Pretty soon the sky to the north was lit up almost continuously with huge peals of sheet lightning. Interspersed with that like a counterpoint of high-hats was fork lightning. Sky to ground, cloud to cloud, ground to sky, east to west, north to south. That lightning came fast, loud, hot and heavy. To a person, my family and friends turned to the storm and just watched it exclusively. A couple of us climbed onto our roof to get an even better view. About an hour later, both light shows started to wind down until there was nothing left but the light hint of sulfer in the air (curtesy of the fireworks). In my not so humble opinion, there is nothing better than a good lightning storm. Unless it is a good lightning storm out in the mountains.

Football mania

2006-06-11T20:28:00.000-05:00

Ah, the glory of football. Where a flick of the ankle can send 3 billion people into either spasms of joy or crushing heartbreak. No other sport causes more lost time at work, fewer concert ticket sales, and more rioting. Look at Brazil '94 or France '98. Any England vs. Argentina game in the last 25 years. Don't forget about the price of equipment. A good ball starts the price off at $60. A World Cup ball is almost $120. Boots? Better take out another mortgage on the home, top of the line Puma, Nike, Adidas, or Diadora cleats will cost you $185. And the best part is, it takes an entire month before the spectacle of the greatest sport on earth is over with, and three years for aftershocks to stop. Of course, by that time, the hype starts to build again for the next installment. Yes, yes, I am talking about the World Cup.

One day, I WILL participate in the spectacle that is the World Cup. Granted, it will only be as a spectator, but I will be at a game. Preferrably the Final. Until that day, I will be content with sitting with my eyes glued to the screen, screaming, groaning, and cheering out loud; all the while looking like a total idiot to all who see me. I am currently blessed in the fact that I can watch almost every single game. Between ABC and the three mexican stations I pick up on my rabbit ears I am covered. Granted, some games (USA vs Czech republic) nobody is showing except for ESPN2. I am therefore forced to go out to eat so as to watch the game as well. Of course, this state of affairs is helped by my lack of a job at the moment. I am therefore able to catch all the games that are in the morning (i.e. every game), due to the time difference between the great state of Texas and Germany.

Of course, I am constantly thrown in the midst of a dilemma. Who do I cheer for? Mexico? USA? Czech Republic? Today was a perfect example of that. Iran vs Mexico. Iran normally doesn't do all that good in the World Cup, so I am tempted to root for the underdog. But Mexico is my home. In case you don't know, Mexico ended up destroying Iran. 3-1. The last two goals came within ten minutes of each other, half way through the second half.

VIVA FUTBOL

Time

2006-05-30T20:09:00.000-05:00

Hello, my name is Dazed and Confused, and I AM a time-aholic. I HAVE to know what time it is. It doesn't matter if I have to be anywhere, or nowhere. I must know the time, at least approximately. I find myself checking my phone at least 50 times a day. I own no watches. If I did, I would check my wrist as well. Nothing drives me crazier than forgetting my phone on the charger. I hate it. The day goes by so agonizingly slow until I finally traipse my way through the door to my room, and I am finally able to slide my crappy, old, decrepit POS phone into my pocket. Now, some of you are wondering, "Why this rant? Why now? What brought this about?" Well, I shall answer those questions for you, in the order you put them to me.

Because I need to get this out.

Why not now?

The price of time pieces. Now I know I totally lost you in that last answer, so let me back up in my day and clue you in. Actually, I will back up a couple of days. Chad in his last blog caused me to comment about before mentioned checking of my phone for the time. Since then, it has haunted my sub-conscience. Questions have rattled around in the very empty space between my ears. Remembrances of Calvin and Hobbes dissertations have promptly followed. Why is it that good times go by so quickly, and yet hard, depressing, distressing, painful, and uncomfortable times drag by as if each second is a year? Why does this week seem to be dragging by, and yet the months are flying? Why are some of us given such short, empty times here on earth (cue my friend’s funeral last week) and yet others are given such long, filled times (cue everybody’s loved grandparents)? And finally, why is it that someone's social status is indicated by an instrument that measures those relentless ticks to the grave? I don't know. Those are definitely going to be some of the questions I pose to God when I finally see Him. I have a feeling it is going to take about half of eternity for my thick head to grasp those concepts. But honestly, what social status do you automatically think of when you read the words Rolex, Timex, Tagheuser (sp?), and Porsche? Upper-class, middleclass/poor, upper-class, and elite; in that order. You might wonder what Porsche is doing in that list? I will tell you, they make watches. Maybe "they" don't, but their name is on the case.

I was walking through one of the malls here in Dallas and saw a little shop called "Porsche Designs." As I walked in, I noticed that both sales reps were wearing three piece suits. My money sense started to tingle. "How much are these products going to cost?" immediately became the litany in my mind. A short perusal of the merchandise gave no clue, since there were no price tags on any of the watches, pipes, cigar cutters, glasses, attaché cases, back-packs, or doo-dads. When I finally worked up the nerve to ask the all-important question, the man helpfully informed me that the one watch (on the shelf) was fifty-one, and the other was fifty-four (cue mumble here) hundred dollars. Since I didn't quite catch that last bit I asked him if it was $51 and $54 or $5,100 and $5,400. As I asked the question, my brain is going, "$51 isn't too bad for a watch. I was expecting $100 or so." You can imagine my surprise, my gut-dropping, throat-seizing surprise when he clarified it. These watches did not look that impressive. Brushed titanium bands and body, date window, and three to four hands. That's it, and yet they cost almost as much as both of my vehicles put together (original buying price, not market devalued). Later that day, I stopped for directions at a clock shop. Inside were beautiful grandfather clocks, mantel clocks, wall clocks, and ordinary run of the mill cheapo looking clocks. As I was leaving I decided to find out the prices of a couple. I stopped at the first price because it was sufficiently pricey to almost give me a heart attack. The grandfather clock right by the check-out counter was a "steal" at $10,000. Yep, that one clock was worth more than every...single...possession...I...own...put...together. The craziest part is that some people would put down cash when buying it. Do you know anybody that carries ten thousand dollars in large unmarked bills? One or two of the drug runners I ran into in Mexico maybe, but that is it.

I am done, my rant and rabbit trails are ceased. Hopefully, my dependence on time-pieces will diminish. At least, my OCD need to check them.

amazing

2006-05-23T16:38:00.000-05:00

I don't know how to post something I found somwhere else on the internet without copyright infringement, so I hope the original author doesn't feel the need to come after me. I found this picture put to words at Deviantart.com. It almost took my breath away. The sonnet is by Shakespeare but arranged into a more readable format by pachunka.

The Earth and all her jubilee and might,
and self-inflicted hardship overcome,
and doctrine forged to settle wrong and right
no more can tell her doctors from the Sun-

with science and scripture stirred and made the same,
and idols cast from dirt and lust and gold,
and sunlight ploughed and passed a clever name,
and beauty culled and bought and used and sold,

thus, sun and beauty bound and in a mew,
as each one treads your lashes and your hair,
but glossy doctrines cast and mould and skew;
and you can't tell the sunlight from the glare-

and don the golden makeup and disguise,
as lashes keep the sunlight from your eyes.

ambiance

2006-05-23T01:27:00.000-05:00

What is it about graveyards that is so attractive? I mean, why is it that i can hardly pass a cemetery without wanting to pull over and meander my way through them? Of course, pass one at night and my skin starts to crawl. Thank my over-active imagination and too many horror flicks for that. But, during the day time, it is an almost magnetic draw. Is it the finality of them? No matter what your day, life, or experiences, you cannot dodge this last and final move. How about the tranquility? Carefully manicured lawns, elegant headstones or beautiful estatuary, huge trees casting pleasant and cooling shadows, gorgeous wrought iron fences, running water...all lending a calm and peace that is so often lacking in our lives. How sad that we have to be either dead, or a friend/family member is, before we can experience it. Maybe it is curiousity. I love wandering and reading the eulogies. Seeing if the headstone is for a single individual or for a whole family.

Cemeteries are also interesting in their diversity. You drive through a town, or take a tour of the countryside and you will see quite a difference in styles. Now, most of your older cemeteries (old churches and the like) are the same. Simple, large, with ornate headstones, simple crosses, and mausoleums. Newer ones though are almost always wide open spaces that look like well tended private parks until you realize that you are walking ON the graves b/c you didn't notice the plaques placed into the ground. Both are beautiful, but I think I prefer the old style myself. Maybe it is the ostentatious chunks of marble, finely worked, polished to a sheen.

Yes, I know, a bit of a morbid topic, but one that has been on my mind since Saturday. Funny how death makes you feel your own mortality.

familial affection

2006-05-18T19:27:00.000-05:00

My incredibly talented sister. Singer, songwriter, poet, artist, musician, and now...fiance. For those who didn't meet her when she and the rest of the fam visited, her name is Crystal. She is the 2nd of four, and right now, by far, the most successful. This pic is her singing with Bebo Norman. She moonlights as his back up singer and duet partner when she isn't singing in Danielle's place, for Caedmon's Call. If you can't tell, I am incredibly proud of her, and incredibly envious as well. She gets to go on the road, sing, get paid good bucks, and meet totally INCREDIBLE people. You should hear some of the stories she has to tell. Especially about the band. She has gotten the reputation of knowing somebody in every city they stop in. Ah, the benefits of constantly moving as a child, and having friends who were the same. We are everywhere. May her upcoming marriage be painless in planning, joyful in execution, and incredibly rich in following Christ. The last I have no fear of failing. The man she is marrying is probably the strongest Christian, my age, I have ever seen. Incredibly mission minded, in love with God, Mexico, and India (in that order), and about as cool a guy to hang out with as has ever lived. Not to mention, he has the best name in the planet. :D Yes, it is Ben as well.

Life and Death

2006-05-17T23:36:00.000-05:00

A strange thing happened on the way home from work today. When I got up this morning, I thought today was going to be like any other. For the most part it was. Accidentally slept later than I wanted, went to work, worked, left work, came home. But, the devil, as they say, is in the details. Coming home I found two places that play soccer, and one that plays volleyball. If I sign up for the volleyball, and one soccer season, I will have elevated my physical activity from nothing to three times a week...in one week. I am looking forward to sports being in my life again, I just hope my body can handle it after having done nothing for so long. That was good news. Then, I bought myself some new indoor soccer shoes. Good news. Missed a phone call from an unknown number, intriguing. When I call my voicemail, I realize that I have two unheard voice messages. One from the missed call, and a late arrival from yesterday.

Turns out that a friend from in Tulsa just found out that she is having a boy. Great news for her, even though she isn't really talking to the father at all right now. She also said that her sister is about to go into labour, (yes I know I just spelled it like a Canadian, deal with it) and so can't come down anytime soon to visit. Bummer. She then proceeded to knock my socks off. After two messages of joy and life, she tells me that another friend just died. A semi-good friend from my Friday's days was shot and killed on Monday night. Her funeral is Saturday, so I have a much busier weekend than I had initially thought, since I will be coming up for it. When I checked the next message, it was from the dead friend's grandma. She was calling everybody that was in Jenny's phonebook and giving them the bad news.

I know (mentally) that death is something that is just around the corner and can play tag with us at any time. I know that almost on a personal level since I thought I was going to die the other day b/c of a stupid driver. "That" is another story, for another time. The thing is, Death seems like it is supposed to hit in 50-60 years, not now. She was only 26 (or so). I fully expected to be able to call her up on a future visist to the Tulsa area and go play some pool while tossing back a couple of cold ones. Now, it won't happen. What makes it even harder is that I "know" she wasn't saved. I will NEVER see her again. Or at least, I will never be able to laugh with her again.

The funny thing is, that is what I actually associate with her. Laughter. It always seemed like she was laughing and smiling. When she went out, she had a GREAT time. If you went to her place, she was always laughing. Granted, she spent almost just as much time bitching about this, that, and the other, but when I bring up a mental picture of her...she is laughing and tossing her hair. And now that is stopped. My heart goes out to her parents and family. It especially goes out to her best friend (the one who called me). Her day of joy was totally ruined by that terrible news. Life, death. "Death is not the period in the sentence of our life. It is the comma between the subject of the present, and the predicate of the never ending future." A quote by somebod who I can't recall. Loosely quoted of course. For her, the "never ending future" is not going to be an enjoyable one. As I listened to Tracy's voice mail, a song started to roll around in my head. Talking about how as one life ends, another begins.

What do you say to Jenny's parents when you see them? They are going through every parent's nightmare. They are having to bury their baby girl. Do you lie and say that she is now in a better place? Do you just say "I am so sorry for you?" Just give them a hug?

To cap off the irony/symmetry of this afternoon, I check on everybody's blogs (something I haven't done in a week or so) and find out others are going through this same thing. My emotions are balanced by great news from my family. My sister got engaged this last weekend and is looking at a late August wedding. You can say this about life, it is always changing.

2006-04-30T02:44:00.000-05:00

alright, maybe there is hope for me yet. I finally figured out how to change some of the settings and the look of my blog. Now, I just have come up with things to say. This could get ugly.

2006-04-23T18:52:00.000-05:00

How the CRAP does everybody do this? I am a self-professed/confessed computer geek, and I am totally lost. Of course, I do know more about how to build and fix computers than run programs, but still...there are 10 yr. old kids whose blogs and websites are insane good. Oh well. I don't even know what I am talking about here. I am just vomiting words out on the page. I am bored, tired (for no reason at all), and hungry. B/c of that, I think I am going to shut up now.