Selling paranoia

I was at Tractor Supply Company using up a giftcard on a nice pair of Carhartt jeans (worth their weight in platinum). If you've never been to a TSC, let me tell you... this place is so redneck it makes Wal-Mart look like Saks Fifth Avenue. Anyways, as I was checking out, I noticed among the impulse buy merchandise a Homeland Security pocket knife made by Smith & Wesson.

Homeland Security? What the fuck?!

I guess here in the heartland, people are so afraid of those "Ay-rab towel heads" that they actually think there will come a point when civilians will be locked in hand-to-hand combat with the invading hordes of (unarmed, obviously) terrorists. I love Ohio.

Yeti@home

My pc at home fulfilled it's long prophecied death the other day. Power supply went out. You know that AOL commercial where the dude says he wants his computer to make the sound of a yeti? My power supply fan had been making that exact same noise for about 2 months prior. At least I hope it's only the power supply. Fried mobo + Andy = fucked.

With the computer temporarily rendered belly-up, my SETI@home isn't running. How will the project ever survive without me?

fantastick

"There is a curious paradox that no one can explain;
Who understands the secret of the reaping of the grain,
Who understands why spring is born out of winter's laboring pain,
Or why we all must die a bit before we grow again."

from "The Fantasticks"

----

My substance is taking a brief hiatus, and I've been moping around like an empty shell for the last few days. I shall return soon... stronger, wiser and more mature. For the time being, sink your teeth into this post from Jen St. Clair.

More typical mid-20's ponderings

I often talk to Andy, the guy who runs the Receiving department. There are four Andys (including myself) in this store. Anyways, I've always been impressed with his sharp wit and sense of humor, how well-spoken he is, and how he seems so content to be doing what he is doing. Definitely one of those people immediately identifiable as being smarter than the average bear.

Today I really began to wonder why he's so happy. He earns minor duckets at a thankless job which entails driving a forklift, BS-ing with truckers and sweeping the floors. I had to wonder... when it comes to being happy, what it is that he knows and I don't? There is obviously some concept he has full grasp of that I have yet to even scratch the surface of. What am I missing?? I'm putting on this huge bloated dramatic lament about where I am, and this guy just seems happy as a clam to be where he is. I feel like a huge dolt.

P.S. I did get around to mentioning this to him, to which he rolled his eyes and said, "Oh no, not the 'if you would only just apply yourself' speech again!" Then it struck me: He's exactly like me... another above-average but underacheiving (ragingly ADD) kid left to fend for himself growing up. I've heard the 'apply yourself' speech a thousand times. Am I going to end up that way? Am I doomed to settle into a substandard life and occupation, having exhausted of and given up on trying to reach my goals in life? This frightens me greatly.

next to where I park my car 

my neighbor's porch, showing how high it piled up. 

The trench up to my door. My back still hurts. 

Weighing down the tree 

The snow is about as deep as the sidewalk is wide 

Here are some pictures I took today. I got a tiny little digital camera for Christmas. It's kinda cool, really. It's simply a glorified webcam that some engineer thought to add a little memory to and make the USB cord detachable. Anyways, here's some pictures of out back. 

The Phantom of Cole Porter

I just recently watched two movies, "De Lovely" on DVD, and "The Phantom of the Opera" yesterday at the theater. Both were brilliantly executed, and I feel safe in assuming most everybody would enjoy them as much as I did. Here's what I liked about each:

-= De Lovely =-

For starters, it stars Kevin Kline and Ashley Judd, with a host of cameos. (dude, is that Alanis Morrisette singing?) I've never been one to pick apart movie elements (I simply like a movie or I don't), but I was struck by how tight the dialogue was in this movie. Not a line was spared, and I felt compelled even to scribble down a few of the more brilliant one-liners on a bit of scrap paper. Very very well written. Plenty of music, and it all fit into the context of the scene too, so it didn't just seem like the movie stopped for a musical number. Oh, and Ashley Judd is absolutely stunning.

-= Phantom =-

Fucking WOW. Since Webber was not only a screenwriter, but also a producer, he retained the vast majority of the creative control. The score was re-recorded using a real pipe organ and a full orchestra (instead of synth organ and pit orchestra), giving it a much more broad and full sound... basically kicking it up a notch and adding a lot more oomph. Joel Schumaker was merciful in his sparing use of CG, instead relying on the time-honored techniques of constructing breathtaking sets, gorgeous costumes, casting talented actors and basically creating a thrilling piece of eye candy. What CG that was used, was subtle and tasteful. Had I the time, I'd've walked straight to the box office, bought another ticket, and sat through the whole damn thing again.

Speaking of eye candy, Emmy Rossum who played Christine Daae is a righteous babe to be sure, but whenever Meg Giry (Jennifer Ellison, who had regrettably little on-screen time) entered the scene, she was so hot I felt my internal organs liquefy. I'm not sure why, because I typically like brunettes over blonde cheerleader types. I'm much more of a Velma than a Daphne kinda guy.

I like watching Gerard Butler in movies. Speaking strictly from a sense of artistic appreciation, he has a beautiful face that could've come straight from the brush of Michaelangelo or Carvaggio. And for those of you who saw him in "Dracula 2000", I was in New Orleans last year. I tried that whole slow motion, head down, eyes up, sly grin, sexy strut down the center aisle of the Virgin Megastore. As fate would have it, instead of the women having their breath stolen by my mere passing presence (as happened in the movie) they just looked at me like "Oh, God... not another one. Nice try, doofus."

There's only one ticky little thing that I didn't like. When it comes to pop theater singing, I guess mastery of tone, vibrato and dynamics aren't enough to demonstrate professional skill anymore. Now they have to throw in these annoying grace notes at the end of phrases with rising melodies. Christine is constantly beginning her final notes at the end of a rising line at what seemed like well over an entire step flat and quickly glissing up to the correct note. Maybe my irritation with this harks back to when I was in choir in high school. Notes that started flat and corrected sharply indicated sloppiness. Or maybe it's because I've heard the Sarah Brightman recording twenty thousand times, and it's hard-wired into my head. Either way, just hit the note dammit! That is all.

The weather outside is HORRIFYING

It is -10 degrees (-23 centigrade) outside. It is so cold that it pisses you off. Literally. You take a step outside and the shock is so intense that it's quite upsetting. If hell ever freezes over, this is what it would feel like.

What a bizarre winter storm we had. I've never in my 26 long years seen anything like this. Snow up to my freakin thighs... and then this cold snap behind it. I felt like I was digging a World War II trench to get out of my back door and down to the car. Luckily it was that dry fluffy snow that's nice and light. I got some pictures yesterday. If I ever get around to developing them (got about 7 undeveloped rolls ahead of this one), I'll post a few. This storm is being compared to the great (nigh mythical) "Blizzard of '78", and I'm sure we'll be talking about this one for years to come... the "Christmas 04 Blizzard". Not really a blizzard, but people are calling it that.

Oh, and btw, merry christmas all.

my first shit-faced post

I have two words for y'all: Southern Comfort

The future ain't what it used to be

Dials...ok. Knobs...understandable. Gagues...fine. But what the fuck is that huge-ass wheel for?? 

Yet more typical revelations

I was watching a National Geographic special on Leonardo DaVinci the other night. Of the whole two hour program, two elements really left an impression on me and stand out while the rest of the details fade. First is a statement about his progressive way of thinking. A scholar once said that Leonardo DaVinci awoke from a deep slumber only to find that the rest of the world was still sleeping. That has to be the most supreme compliment I think I've ever heard. Second, he didn't start writing his now historically famous journals until he was thirty years old. DaVinci was a late bloomer. I take solace in that.

Primarily, I am deeply intrigued by the analogy of awakening while the remainder of humanity still sleeps. Beyond any IQ test, more than any formalized, standardized, mechanized, subsidized, purified, granulated and bleached out method of evaluation, I have to wonder: could this be the one true definition of genius? Is this what genius truly means?

In theater terminology, a gel is a thin colored sheet of plastic slipped over a light to give the scene a slightly different glow... to subtly alter the appearance and mood of a scene. A gobo is an opaque cutout used to change the shape of a light, such as to dapple it or cast cookie-cutter shapes. I can't help but make the analogy that people walk around percieving the world through their own series of gobos and gels, each altering each person's perspective just a little. Religion, philosophy, morals, denial, preconceptions... each are another filter through which reality is refracted. I always visualized that those whom we call geniuses, those who have attained some level of illumination and enlightenment, are people who simply thought to remove those gobos and gels, allowing the world to be revealed as it truly is.

Micah

My friend Micah. Lucky bastard. Lucky enough to bust out of Troy and do something worthwhile. He deserves it, though. He can play the shit out of his guitar. He's out there on the road living like a rock star, having enough fun for 10 people. I hate being a redneck. 

Identity Crisis

This morning, as I was walking up to the doors at work, a customer was walking out. "Hey! How's it going!", he said to me, very enthusiastically. I had no idea who this guy was. I hate when that happens. A description of the scene- I had my knit cap on down to my eyebrows and a scarf up to my chin, so only a little of my face was showing. Here's the conversation that ensued:

Me: It's goin' great! How're you? [who're you?]

Dude: Good, good. So, whatcha doing these days? [still no clue who he is]

Me: Oh, I work here assembling stuff. You know, furniture, lawn equipment, that sorta stuff. What're you up to? [maybe I used to work with him...?]

Dude: Still at Hobart Brothers. [holy shit, he thinks I'm somebody he used to work with] Mary's still at home, but Eddie started his own business.

Me: [slight panic, gonna have to run with this] Eddie? Good for him!

Dude: So, how's your mother doing?

Me: Oh, she's doing much better, thank you.

Dude: That's a relief! [with my luck, the mom in question probably died]

Me: [fishing for a way out] Hey, I really hate to cut this short, but they count to the minute when I clock in, I gotta go.

Dude: Hey, don't wanna make you late. Great seeing you again! Say hi to Tina for me.

Me: Will do! See ya!

I didn't know what to do! I didn't have the heart to embarrass him to his face, especially since he was so happy to see me. Poor guy, somewhere down the line he's going to realize I'm not who he thought I was and he's going to feel like a complete idiot.

"Improving Home Improvement"

While leisurely strolling down the clearance aisle at work, I happened upon an Irwin 20-piece drill bit set with a big "A $9 VALUE!" sticker on it. Problems:
1) It costs $9.97
2) It was clearanced down from $19.97

Nipping at Your Nose

It was 3 degrees as I headed out to work this morning. 3 measley fucking degrees! Orb, that's -16 to you! :-) Jack Frost wasn't simply nipping at my nose this morning, it felt more like he was spraying any of my exposed skin with a fine mist of hydrochloric acid. At that temperature, it hurts to breathe. God damn! Naturally, since I have an entire 10 minute drive to work, the van started to heat up just as I turned the engine off to go inside. After the epic trek across the vast expanses of the windswept Lowe's parking ice desert, I got to the doors feeling like I should be wearing the Phantom of the Opera's mask, my face felt so burnt.

Don't panic. I pulled through okay.

Broadband required

Stop the presses. Don't do a single thing else until you download this video. I think I've discovered the single worst music video ever created. I've watched this video one hundred and sixty seven times, and it keeps getting funnier every single time I see it. :-)

This is a moth I found at work last summer on the back of a Cub Cadet lawn tractor crate. That is my hand next to it for size reference. Taken with the camera on a PDA. At lunch, I set it down where nobody would bother it and then went home and grabbed my Canon for some closer clearer shots, but it had flown away by then. :-( 

2 for 1

Last night's fortune cookies. I ate two. Strangely enough they go hand-in-hand:

"The hard times will begin to fade, joy will take their place."
-and-
"You will be successful someday."

I think my emotions are being toyed with. Damned fortune cookie gods.

Umm... Sputnik?

Ok, isn't it about time for people to stop using the words "space age" in promoting their crappy products? It's been the "space age" for 47 years now.

Does this mean I can say I'm a lesbian? (no, not thespian)

I was just in a small Christmas production here at Troy Civic Theatre, my home away from home. One thing about stage lighting is that without any makeup, it will wash any color (and most features) right off your face. I lost my cosmetic "recipe card" from the last play, so there I am in the dressing room having various makeup schemes tested. I hate makeup. I can't stand having a fine film of waxy crap on my face. It feels icky. Anyways, the last thing to be evaluated was lip color. One they tried was waaaay too red. I looked at myself in the mirror, hair slicked back, dark beige-y foundation, eyes lined and shadowed, cheeks nice and rosy, with this embarrassingly red lipstick, and I realized something:

I make a cute girl.

Karma Chameleon

I hate how I act differently around different people. Who am I trying to impress? I'm so goddamn jealous of people who can maintain the same outward appearance regardless of what situation they're in. We all know somebody like that... maybe you're one of those people. How do you do it?

A few weeks ago I saw "The Life and Death of Peter Sellers". There is a line that Geoffrey Rush gives about how he has no real personality of his own, only that of the characters he plays. I feel like I've got a seperate role for each person I deal with. Who I am to my wife is nothing like who I am to Jen (the girl who asked me to the party), or when I'm around my dad, or who I am in this blog.

Damn you, Evanescence. I love your CD, but it's guaranteed to crush any trace of a good mood I might've been in. I need a cookie.

Distress Calls

After I had finished making all that racket breaking apart the shipping crates for the snow throwers, I was enjoying a briskly cold quiet morning. Aside from the tinkering noises of assembling the equipment, and the distant rhythmic boom, boom, boom from a nearby plant that stamps out chassis for Honda, there was little noise except for a surprisingly musical choir of starlings who had settled on a street light.

As I was enjoying the calls, somebody's car alarm started to go off. You know, that really annoying one that cycles through the 4 or 5 different alarm sounds. "Turn off that fucking car.", I muttered to myself... then I realized it was the birds imitating a car alarm.

Do you notice anything unnatural about this picture? This is a blender we sell at work, and this picture is on the box. I must've walked past these things 5 million times. For some reason, today I glanced at them and burst out laughing. Luckily, the website had a jpeg of the picture that's on the boxes. 

At work today I was watching the Receiving department wrap up a roll of carpet for storage. The carpet sat on a machine that rotated it while Andrew evenly distributed a wrinkle-free layer of stretch wrap down the lenth, perfectly overlapping each layer to create a nice helix. I don't know why, but suddenly I found it strikingly beautiful to watch the cigar-shaped carpet roll get coated in a perfect, shiny and smooth cocoon of industrial saran wrap.

ouch #2

I just crossed paths with the word 'matriculated'. Dictionary.com says it means being accepted into a group, especially a college or university. Still, doesn't 'matriculated' sound like something... well... painful? Imagine the following phone conversation:

"Hey, word spread around the office that you got matriculated yesterday. How ya doing, man?"

"It still hurts, but the doctor has me on Demerol. He says I'll be ready to go back to work in a couple of weeks."

"Well, take care, and try not to gag on the hospital food! Hahaha"

I mean, honestly.

Fighting for my right to party

Well, for the first time in recorded history, my pre-conceived notions were actually correct. It was a sip your pop, eat a cookie, listen to (really bad) sacred music and chitchat type of evening. All in all, a perfectly normal and pleasant soiree.

I started the evening, of course, with my back plastered to the wall, holding my cup defensively in front of me with both hands. It gave me the heebie-jeebies to be in a house with so many other 20-somethings. Eventually, though, I loosened up and a few conversations ensued, all of which were intelligent and interesting. Somebody made caramel brownies that were chewier than rubber cement but fantastically delicious. Anyways, come to find out, they hold bible discussion group on Monday nights, but last night they just decided that it was time to chill. I wouldn't've minded discussing anything... actually I was a little bummed. They seemed a pretty groovy lot, more interested in the underlying philosophies than the "THOU SHALT NEITHER QUESTION NOR THINK FOR THYSELF!!" attitude, so disturbingly common around here. Final answer: It was nice. I had fun.

Jitterbug

Every once in a blue moon there comes along a bit of humor so dry that it takes a moment of dumbfounded interpretation before the onset of maniacal laughter. Here is one such example which was forwarded to my email, by my mom (of all people):


I hate for people to forward those pesky "warnings" as much as anyone, but this one is important! I hope I'm not too late. Send this warning to everyone on your e-mail list.

If someone comes to your front door saying they are conducting a survey on deer ticks and asks you to take your clothes off and dance around to shake off the ticks, do NOT do it!

IT IS A SCAM; they only want to see you naked.

I wish I'd gotten this yesterday. I feel so stupid now..

First snow

It's monday morning before work. I had to run out to the car for something, and it had just begun to snow. Not just a drifty flake here, flake there kinda thing, but the first nice hearty flurry of the season. I don't know why, but I've always loved watching snow in the dark, illuminated only by the pale mercury street lights. I'd've stayed out longer to enjoy it, but it was windy and snowing sideways. I hate getting snow in my ears.

Toy Story

It is Sunday night, around 10 pm. The garbage men come earlier than I get up in the morning, so I have to make sure all the trash is out at the curb tonight. My neighbors bought a house on the other side of town and moved a few days ago. They used their garage primarily for storage so naturally there was a huge pile, along side the trash cans, of much of what they had stowed away in keeping for some imaginary 'other day'. As I walked the week's last bag of trash out to the side of the road, I noticed something laying among the carpet remnants and Hefty sacks. It was a stuffed dog. My neighbors had two small boys, one three years old and one less than a year, and I remember peeking into their garage to see mountains of unused toys. I guessed they assumed the boys were young enough that they'd never miss a few musty, beat-up toys, too worn to worry about taking along to the new home. I knew it went straight from storage in the garage out to the trash pile.

Despite the fact that I was in my t-shirt and it was 40 degrees out with a stiff 20 mph wind and starting to drizzle, I picked up that poor doomed toy dog and hugged it for a while. Standing there shivering, I gave it the proper goodbye that some little boy never had the chance to. It'll be gone by the time I get up tomorrow.

Another one from work. This is out of a childrens' desk made by Bodilsen. I call it: "Deranged Baby" 

This is from a Carina microwave cart that I assembled the other day at work. Notice anything peculiar?  

Testing the hello program. Just call me 'Fabio'. 

ouch.

Don't you hate when you're drinking pop and there's always that one swig that decides to de-carbonate halfway down, suddenly expanding and stretching your esophagus so much it feels like you just swallowed a light bulb? Damn that hurts.

Woohoo! I'm a big kid now!

(singsongy) I'm goin to a party! I'm goin to a party! I'm goin to a party!

Finally, after 26 long years, I'm finally going to a party with people my own age. Sure, there've been theatre cast parties, but it doesn't really count when I'm the only person under 40, and my mom is there. Kinda sucks all the flavor out of the occasion. I do have a few reservations about attending this Christmas party, though:

1) the girl from work who invited me is...well...enthusiastic about her church, and I have a hunch that this is a function thereof. Don't get me wrong, she never ever pushes her views, and she hates it when other people do. She's a total sweetheart, and doesn't get defensive when people disagree with her. She's what I call a 'groovy Christian'. I'm afraid the others won't be so open minded.

2) If this does turn out to be a church function, her denomination is pretty strict on the no alcohol / no sex before marriage / gays are evil type stuff. Not that I'm looking for sex with her (or a gay guy), I'm just pointing out the prevailing attitude. Fearing a sip some punch / eat a cookie / listen to quiet music / praise Jesus type occasion.

BUT! But, but, but... I will not let fear get in the way. First off, this fear is flimsily based on prejudgement and preconceived notions, and we doesn't like that, does we precious? No we don't! Secondly, she never directly linked this party to her church, so I kinda feel like an asshole for jumping to conclusions. So are we going to act upon said fears? Fuck that. I'm going to go, be polite, enjoy myself, and maybe raise a little hell. Or not. Note the obvious anxiety. Really, I'm not sure what to expect. I'm just so unbelievably flattered that somebody thought of me. Yay!

Robyn Leah Case

I checked up on the website of one of my top 5 favorite musical artists, Robyn Leah Case, a local girl here in Ohio. Just my fortune, she had posted two new freshly recorded songs, one of which contained this line:

"Can I want to kill myself and jump for joy in the same breath?"

The blunt honesty struck me like a bolt of lightning. Haven't we all felt, at one point or another, the confusion of having our feelings stretched to such wretched extremes? The pure emotional nakedness of this sentiment just knocks me over. I love this girl's music.

You know, I have been so wrapped up in how unhappy I am, pretty much to the point of constantly obsessing over it, that I've begun to lose sight of life's little details within the big picture of malcontent. Yesterday at work I was back in my little cubbyhole, elbow deep in assembling a microwave cart, and doing a flawless job of it. Back there by myself, nobody was there to breathe down my neck. The Crystal Method's "Vegas" was spinning in my player, and I was doing my dorky boppy little shuffle as I worked. Then it struck me: like a narrow shaft of sunlight that pierces through a cloudy day, in that fleeting moment, I was really happy.

God Bless the USA!

I just stumbled across a web page that clearly demonstrates just how identical the rhetoric is between Jerry Falwell, Pat Robertson, and Osama Bin Laden. It's a quiz to see if you can tell them apart. Can you pin the quote on the asshole? Take the test here.

---

At work, in the back, there was a special order item for a customer whose name was Anita Beaver. Beavis and Butthead would be proud.

usual mid-20's food for thought

In a recent discussion of religion, I said that if I had to call myself anything, I'd be a maytheist. There may be a god, and there may not. When the end comes, I don't think I'll be surprised either way.

I once read a bumper sticker, though, that said "All acts of love and kindness are my religion." I really like that.

Mythbusters is on. If there is any compelling evidence of the existence of God, it is his/her/its master creation: Kari Byron.

Teasing me like a child sing-songingly taunting "I know something you don't know", here is tonight's enticing, exotic, and mysterious fortune cookie:

"Someone from your past has returned to steal your heart."

wow.

On the radio this morning was an interview with the dude who runs Panzerfaust records, a white power music label. Intrigued by his Project Schoolyard, which distributes sampler CDs to kids at schools, I had to go to the website. After many snickers and chuckles (the merchandise page is absolutely precious), I have arrived at the following statements:

1) The confederacy got stomped.
2) Hitler got stomped.
3) Deal with it.
4) Stop pissing on the Declaration of Independance.

Especially laughable is the statement on the Project Schoolyard page:
"PANZERFAUST: WE DON'T JUST ENTERTAIN RACIST KIDS… WE CREATE THEM."
That was a little creepy until I realized that these clowns are based in Minnesota. Minnesota. If you want to form your small pocket of loonies up in that frozen wasteland, that's perfectly ok with me. Yay democracy. That's what America is all about, pockets of loonies living peaceably side-by-side. Just stay up there, please... that's a segregation I think I could live with.

BUT! But, but, but....the neutral observer in me sees this: ice cold but brilliant businessmen cashing in on the recent surge of psychotic right-wingedness. Unfortunately, Panzerfaust's web page is so blatantly over the top, at first I thought it had to be a spoof. Their rhetoric is on par with the outlandish parody Landover Baptist Church website. They need to tone it down a bit or they'll crack the facade and reveal their true purpose. The only color they really care about the power of is green. Panzerfaust is all about the Benjamins.

Can't disagree

Last night's fortune cookie:

"You have a natural grace and great consideration for others."

How true. How true.

---

Last night, whilst watching tv, a commercial for a local dentist's office came on. Great idea, it was the "Not so extreme makeover", and they actually performed free dental surgery on this poor lady who was desperately in need of it, and then made a 30-second spot about it. Anyways, since the local commercials play over top of the network feed, sometimes they don't line up perfectly timewise and you get the last few seconds of the national commercial after the local one ends.

So they show this lady with hideous teeth (think those 'bubba' teeth they sell at halloween) getting fixed up, followed by the last few seconds of the national commercial: "For more information about the animal charity fund, please visit our website at www dot..."

Poor lady. I hope she wasn't watching.