The Desolation of...

Alright man, here's the freakin deal.

I'm thinking of getting a tattoo. I told some friend's this and one of my friends said, "Oh yeah, death eaters, you and me buddy!" He meant something like this, I'm assuming. Sans the binary.

That's a little too geeky for me. Or let me correct. A little too obviously geeky.

So I've spent a good few hours checking out online what people have. And my god there are some really dumb tattoos. Here are my ideas, really, 2. One is to have something in Gaelic. You know, to honor my Irish heritage and give grandma Irish something to gloat about at the next book-cover-ripper's convention.

But then, there's this:
It's actually a sketch by JRR Tolkien for a possible cover or image on the cover of The Hobbit. It's Smaug.

So this means something to me. Tolkien was kind of a big part of my life growing up. Plus since I'm sort of Chinesey, I could probably pass it off as something along those lines...but...really...it's pretty freaking nerdy. I just don't know man.

I'm looking to get it on the inside of a forearm.

QoS

I'm amazed that they're making this movie so quickly after these events took place in my life.



**edit - better quality video. Just ignore the black at the end, I guess it needed to be longer to make it HD

Some work of noble note, may yet be done, - Not unbecoming men that strove with Gods

My ex-wife wrote in her blog, "IF I love Him I WILL keep His commandments." Obviously we're assuming there's something real to love here, so putting that aside - This is true. Likewise IF you truly believe something, you WILL live your life by it.

I got in a tuff with a "Mormon" in my class over this. I say "Mormon" because he's been excommunicated but he still claims to believe every word of it, he just doesn't live by it. I said this is impossible. If you truly believe you're going to be punished for your misdeeds, you won't do them. IF there's a cop walking around with you, you WON'T steal. The same as, if I really DON'T believe there's a door in front of me, I WON'T bother to open it before I try and go thru it.

But that's not what this post is about. This post is about dreams, and it goes something like this. IF I really want something, I WILL pursue it.

That's where if bites though. If I really want it. If I REALLY want it. And if I REALLY want it, why the hell am I not pursueing it?

Or does it just get choked under our obligations? Under these pressures that society, and pride, and the boogeyman put on us. "We work jobs we hate, so that we can buy shit we don't need."

So either I don't want it, or I'm letting it get choked. I'm hoping it's the second one, cause I'm just flapping in the wind if my dreams are something I really don't want. Just another check mark on the checklist the boogeyman handed to me some time in my youth. Cause he's got a stack that says "Baseball Player" and "Astronaut", and he's handing them out like candy at the park, to unsuspecting younglings that don't know yet about abortions and laziness and bipolar disorder. But for most people it must be something some best friend actually handed to them, or some TV show, or some girl that likes men in suits and fancy cars. Cause really what they wanted more was a family, or a cushy job, or some time alone on the couch.

So I'm reading The Gunslinger again, and it's one of those stay up past your bedtime books. One of those fuck-society I-don't-need-friends books. And I underlined something in the introduction. "Let it rip regardless of what anybody tells you, that's my idea; sit down and smoke that baby." He's talking about writing despite being young, about taking on big ideas when the older and wiser might shake their head and say you don't know the first thing about what you're talking about.

When did I stop thinking that? I said to myself, laying in bed, early. I used to write everything I could think of. When did I start being scared and when did I start not caring? When did I start choking and when did I start listening to the chicks that go after big cars? Since when did I let the warning labels and the has-beens tell me what to do? Since when did I stop saying my dreams are what make life worth living, and the only thing that will make me happy?

The answer is, of course, is never. I stopped believing it, and I stopped living it.

"If you don't claim your humanity you will become a statistic. You have been warned."

So I invite you, dear reader, to join me. I will give this three weeks. Three weeks. Apparently it takes 21 days to establish a pattern. For these three weeks I will write 1000 words a day, and see if I can't stop by the end of it. I have a calender on my wall and I'll check off the days, starting tonight. Today is the 9th (or a few days later for you maybe). By the end of April I'll have 21 days behind me. At the close of this month I will have chased my dream, truly and immediately, for at least three weeks. If the handwriting on your checklist is your own, and not the boogeyman's, or some ex's, I offer this opportunity for you to join me, to stop choking and come up for air. It's not too hard, it's only a blip in your life.

We are not now that strength which in old days
Moved earth and heaven, that which we are, we are;
One equal temper of heroic hearts,
Made weak by time and fate, but strong in will
To strive, to seek, to find, and not to yield.

Why is a raven like a writing desk?

Two percocet, some cotton soaked in clove juice, an upset stomach, and about twenty starburst jelly beans later, and I'm writing a blog entry at one in the morning. It was dry socket, I'm out of pills, and I have no ambition.

Hemingway was the man's man of writers. He used to tie himself to his chair, get drunk, and go until he passed out I guess. I may do the same tonight. Lewis Carroll's drug of choice was LSD, why can't mine be prescription?

Today I discovered that I can feel the hole in my lower left gums, and my upper right one is starting to hurt. It may degrade into dry socket like my lower right. I suppose I can stand the pain, and it's odd, but one of the main things I take into consideration when delegating my hope is whether it will get me out of work or not. This may, so I'm crossing my fingers for it.

I don't know if it's the sitting in a room with the same people, the sense of no direction, or the knowledge that I'm forced to take part in a system I don't believe in and am not interested in, like a minaret that hate's disco forced to perform Saturday Night Fever, but on the days I don't go to work compared with those when I do I find it's the difference between trying to spot a zebra in the serengeti or in a polka-dot pillow sale. That is, I don't feel quite at home. That is, I feel like an entirely different human being that thinks he wants things, and wants to appear certain ways, that the me laying on my floral patterned couch wearing a floral patterned bath robe would never even consider. That wasn't suggesting I'm hiding something like Heath in Brokeback Mountain was, it's a throwback to the camouflage analogy.

To keep this from getting too heavy (I was told that "ism" don't make for good crowd interaction in a place that ends in .com) I'll clarify that yes, now I have gotten dry socket in one tooth. They packed it with some kind of cottony looking stuff that is supposed to act as "scaffolding" for the gums to repair themselves. Apparently the scaffolding my body provided took a long union break, then went on strike, or went to protest the damage being wreaked on the liver, or something. Except there were no scabs to bring in this time: pun intended. This cottony stuff was soaked in an oil that smells like cloves and tastes like digested and crapped out cloves, and ended up making me feel high and nauseous by the end of the night. I said, "My feet feel far away."

I'm reminded of Shawshank Redemption. "You know, the funny thing is, on the outside I was an honest man, straight as an arrow. I had to come to prison to be a crook." I was a good high schooler, and it took me joining the military to get me tripping the light fantastic, kissing the sky, etc. Going to the square dance. That's an LSD reference.

The professor has been very sweet lately. I need to put seed in the bird feeder outside my window. My hair is even more red looking since I tried to bleach it. I still don't have a camera. Licorice tea is delicious, but somewhat hard to find. Why must emotions nearly always skew relationships for the worse? I'm very satisfied with my last round of shopping. The joy of intellectual stimulation is something akin to sex and I don't know how I get along when I'm not having it. A new office is on this Thursday, I think. Happy Birthday Amy, I'll give her a more proper post tomorrow, when I also buy her gift. Chinese is a useful skill, like when the seamstress only speaks chinese, and gives you a huge discount when you chat with her in it.

This is where I sleep, little whiskered ones.

"A cat may look at a king. I've read that in some book, but I don't remember where."

Invalid

It was all going pretty well. This weekend was generally pretty relaxing. I even went out Saturday night - but there was no dancing, no yelling, no chewing contests. The percocet was a nice perk. Until maybe...5 am today. The pain woke me up. Just over in the bottom right (the one they were jacking with when I woke up during the surgery). So I took some more percocet, and sat there and moaned and held my face till I could sleep. About 6 hours later, it woke me up again. I'm to the point, I think, where unless I'm NOT taking it, I can't really function. This is not a positive step.


Oh, but this was a fun find by my friend John Yniguez.


I'm the epileptic one with the tie.

On the same note, if you go Here, it's the channel for my friend John, and has almost all the movies we ever did in high school. We were so strange. "The Good Soul" and "The Paperboy" are 2 I was involved in. They really are pretty thin on acting, and dialogue, and plot...

Faithless Relativity

Deciding that I have alienated the majority of people that ever peruse this blog, I'm going to continue on that vein because - I'm not really writing this for some particular audience. If that were the case I'd be doing entertainment pieces and cushy photo journals.

The issue is, I think, that I've become bereft of the small amount of people that read this, as far as I can tell, ideologically speaking. Still, I consider this a medium of self expression and personal enjoyment, so I'm going to soldier on.

If you're interested, read this.

The writer of the article does a fine job of expressing the sentiment I'm going to express, but this is my blog and I can go further if I want.

What...the hell.

"...may not discriminate against the student based on a religious viewpoint expressed by the student on an otherwise permissible subject."

We're going to need a clearer definition of "permissible subject" before we can decide whether or not to throw out all of public schooling, not just the sciences. If the educators MUST say, "you're right" because of what you say are your religious beliefs, education becomes nothing. You're not being educated about anything. You're coming with your prejudices, unfounded opinions, and feelings, and leaving with...your prejudices, unfounded opinions, and feelings.

I'm a pagan, and we believe that the earth is the center of the universe, followed by the planets, which are actually gods, traversing the skies as they will (this including Helios, the god of the sun of course (or Apollo, that fiery chariot seems appealing), and then the sphere of the stars, which revolves around the earth like an orange peel around it's seeds.

I'm a mormon, and excuse me, the Americas were not peopled by North East Asians, but rather Jews, sailing over from Israel in 400BC. When they got here they brought silk, steel, and found horses to ride around on.

I'm Shinto, and no, Japan was not created by continental drift, but when one of our gods dipped his sword into the ocean and drops fell, creating our islands. They also blessed us, making us intrinsically superior to Chinese.

And your History, Astronomy, Physics, Earth Science, Humanities teacher has to put on your paper, "Great Job! You got it all right!" Gold star, gold star, gold star.

If we cease to have a standard of what is factual and what is not, we cease to learn. Reality is determined by evidence, not fiat.

Drip Down

Rumors, rumors and ill feelings. No matter who we're put together with, our own pride maybe, or expectations, or maybe the illusion of permanence, as the Buddhists think, make every kind of secret complaining or outright animosity spring out of initially stand-offish people. I've also heard that familiarity breeds contempt, which may be the case.

I think I may be cursed to apathy as well, controllable, but difficult to push back once it gets hold. It's just that once it gets going I have a damned time mustering the will to change it. All becomes bad and nothing good. If I can use the boredom and hatred, by historical figures, of their respective situations and occupations I still have to accept the revulsion of the present moment they must have experienced, and the suffering they must have endured for what we can justify in retrospect.

I'm also just tired of this shit.

The deployment was supposed to happen, then was canceled, then was supposedly pushed back a month. As of last week I found that, without being told anything, I had been replaced. Today, the verdict is, we're not sure, you might go.

I can't bring myself to be neutral about this place. Maybe malcontent would be a more accurate description. I just really hate what I'm doing. People have gone thru it with their chins up and bright prospects. That's just not me. And maybe I'm using this situation as an excuse to fan my coals of dissatisfaction. I can almost guarantee I am. I just choose not to put energy into finding the merits. Probably a poor response. I've really lost interest in determining that.

In contrast, here's a bit about the new Bond movie.

So Delivered

Atop Mt. Evans
At the campsite at the dunes.

Madness
Retribution.
Assertion


The Journey


Some fools in a raft

Swindlers, Crooks, and Liars

Check it out.

The Promised

So I'm going to write a bit about my life right now. I just read andrew's blog where he gets to talk about what he learns at work/school. I can't really do that generally, which makes it difficult. But rest assured that this rockin classified stuff I'm learning is generally the kind of stuff you'd look at and say, "That's IT!?" You know, psychic brain probes and remote viewing.

What is the government not telling you? I know, and it's not that exciting. And no, it doesn't make Bush a better President, or make a Cheney or more honest man if you knew what was going on behind closed doors.

So now, where am I? I've started the class I'll probably be in till about Christmas time. I like the people in my class a lot - between séances we find time for sudoku and general merry-making. I had my first graded sim today and passed. I think I can say that and not be saying anything illegal. Yes, it was playing the sims and being graded. I had to add a third story to my family's house and make the husband and wife make woopee in the hot tub. I was nervous, but it was no big deal, as things tend to be when you start actually doing them.

On tuesdays, thursdays, and fridays we play ultimate frisbee for pc (physical conditioning). I'm usually picked pretty early on despite often throwing bad passes and elbowing people in the face (unintentionally of course (not really)). It's getting humid and hot here, and the base is near an Iams or Friskies or something factory where they make dog food. So sometimes you walk outside in 90+ degree weather, 70%+ humidity, and it smells like horse carcass and you just wanna puke all over the ground. You get out of the shower and feel like you wanna get right back in, but it's not that bad. I like how it feels at 5:30 in the morning when I go to work (on the 6am to 12pm shift right now). But the gym we're in for ultimate (we play in an indoor soccer field) has no exhaust and...I don't think has any air conditioning...so it's gotta be like 3000% humidity. You set your car keys down on the bench and you start pouring sweat.

I come home and I read books and read stuff online mostly, occasionally watch a movie, man vs. wild, the daily show, or the colbert report. That's about what encompasses my weekdays. I avoid loading/unloading the dishwasher as long as I can, as well as going grocery shopping. So I usually have clean dishes sitting in the dishwasher, nothing but tuna and boxed rice in the cupboard, and dried cheese/whatever I mixed it with (chips, eggs) stuck on the plates in the sink. Then I end up just drinking the last bit of the big 2 gallon jug of water straight from the container in the fridge before caving and spending my $200 on my sex-weekly (okay that sounds scandalous - what would it be? bi weekly, tri, quad...what's six?) grocery shopping trip.

The Professor's still pretty cool, but I think he's been gaining weight just sitting around all day, so I've started putting his food up while I leave. I'd love to let him out but there are 2 problems:
1) When I put a collar on him he just jacks with it till he can get it off.
2) The door to my apartment is in a hall that has another door to the outside, so when he'd want back in I don't know how I'd know unless I could train him to come to the window he escaped out of.
I'd also like to let him out cause he's starting doing this obnoxious meow, and sitting by the door - obviously trying to tell me he wants to go out. But he does it at like 2 am and wakes me up. I don't know why he keeps it up cause I haven't once actually let him out while he does it. I've started saying "Quiet!" and chasing him around a little.

Let's see...anything else to add? Taking a computer class online thru Metro Community College to fulfill what I need to get my associates degree thru DLI. I'm signed up for a biology class and a college algebra class next semester. I felt pretty proud of myself and I'll tell you why: Sophomore year in high school I took Algebra 2/Trig. After that year I took a math placement test at the comm college in So Cal and I tested into college math/statistics...like the math 140 range. Didn't actually take any classes until 2 years later after I graduated. I had to take the math placement test again and I tested into the math 070 range! Which is basically Algebra 2/Trig again. So in 2002 I took that class again. It has hence been 5 years. I had to take a math placement test again, so I bought an Algebra book and studied on my own before taking it. I got thru the book and tested into statistics...so like the math 140 range. So after 5 years of no math I managed to test into the same level as I did right after I finished the highest math I've taken. So I felt pretty good about that.

I actually like math now. I like figuring stuff out just thru logic - stuff that I don't necessarily know the real formula for. I always liked the humanities esk subjects more...but on the standardized tests in high school I always did better on the math parts.

I think that's quite long enough for now. Maybe more later. I'm sure there's more.

More: I work here.

Some Say We'll See Armageddon Soon...

The Palestinian President has dissolved the government and is now ruling by presidential decree to hope to control the situation between them and Hamas...

And the crickets outside MY window won't shut up!

Hydrate

My Gatorade Ad

The Mediocre Escape

One: The Professor, caught in this photograph in wicked contemplation of his next devilish plot.

Two: Sunday morning, May the 20th.

Three: A streak of some-to-very hot days finds the home of The Professor often with windows ajar as to let the cool night air calm the teeming innards of the apartment. The Professor could often be found next to these unsuspecting windows, apparently making aggressive noises at birds and children - alledgedy contemplating eating one. In reality, his intentions were far more sinister.

Four: The exit. On said morning in said location at one of said windows the owner of the ne'er do weller cat awoke to find exibit B - a screen cunningly dislodged from its place of...rest. Knowing that the cat would most likely seek to return to his gang - The Jets - with whom he used to "prowl," and not knowing how long The Professor had been at large, due to said owner sleeping a lot, said owner took to the streets.

Five: Several frantic minutes pass as said owner wanders said streets in search of said transient Professor. Finally, when all hope seemed lost, said owner steps back into the hallways of his apartment building, wondering if maybe, just maybe, through the months of a cush life in said apartment, the alley had gone out of the cat.

Six: Tentative meows come from the stairs next to door to said apartment. Indeed, it is the Professor. Lost and alone, he has returned to the hallway in front of said owners door which he frequents frequently. Mystery solved.

Breaking News: Professor apprehended again attempting another buggardly escape attempt during the writing of this very blog. Perhaps we've not yet heard the last of this...Mediocre Escape!!

The Bell

Another response in the comments of this post.

Backlash

I wrote a response to Randy's statements, but I won't frighten the rest of you with it here, or it's length. I'm posting it in the comments of this entry, if you'd like to read it.

Slaves to Laws

I think that we, as Americans especially (maybe it's true for all of humanity, I don't know), have to be really careful that, in the wake of something that makes us feel insecure or unsafe - like a tragedy - we don't see our mistakes as more than they are, and push too far the other way.

After 9/11 we said, "never again," and then came the patriot act.

Now, after the VATech shooting, some people are looking at creative writing as indicative of potential violence. But if stuff is happening like what's in the link up there, it needs to stop. Good god, if violent writing meant violent behavior the writers of Saw, Fight Club, and Braveheart should be mass murderers - we need a little perspective.

Fascism

Take a look at this.

I think it was probably more controversial when it was made 2 years ago, when what it says wasn't so close to what a lot of americans themselves are saying. So do you think it's true? Or what parts of it do you think are false?

Another question I guess would be, if it's accusations against America are correct, is America's position on this matter morally wrong? When it says that the war on terror is the war on anyone that opposes American domination, should American leaders feel remorse about anything except that that's not a very sensitive way of putting it? Is it wrong for a country to go to war against people that oppose their own global domination? Or is that what all countries do, and America just currently has the power to make their war the most far reaching?

Give me your thoughts, if you have any on this subject.

Something More Sober

Since my job right now has me in a building that has no windows and no television, from 7am till 1pm every day, and because I was setting up my drums this afternoon, I didn't even realize anything had happened until I read some other blogs.

This might be a worthy idea to refocus on. You can read the caption on there, but it's about, back in 2004, thousands of filmmakers captured the same moment on the same day, each on their corner of the earth. It "speaks to what it is to be a human alive on this earth today."

Beware

This will be pretty offensive, to some of you - which is fitting considering it's a 20 minute speech about freedom of speech given in Canada in reaction to a proposed bill to limit hate speech. It's pretty powerful stuff.

Apparently this guys a drunk and maybe a druggie, which is how the people that are commenting on this video are criticizing him. But what he says has to stand on it's own whether it's said by Buddha, or Charles Manson, and I think it does.

Thwack

So today there's a special Krav Maga knife defense 2 hour seminar I'm doing, after which I'll be a killing machine. So if you were planning on attacking me with a knife, you'll wanna get that in before 1 pm today, otherwise you're out of luck. If you wanna attack me with a gun...that seminar's a few weeks off...so you've got some time.