Monday, February 27, 2006

The notebook

I carry a small notebook in my pocket for those moments when great inspiration hits me and I need to jot down my wisdom for future generations to learn from. I was looking through it for an idea for an idea for writing material and I was amused at the different topics and some just flat out weird stuff I had written down.
There is an idea I had on writing about mixed marriages. No not those kind of mixed marriages I mean the kind between people with different loves. For example I have a friend who is a rabid Carolina Tarheels fan and his wife is a howling mad Wolfpack fan. You can imagine the stress created when the two teams play one another. There is also a statement that I heard somewhere, “some people stand out in a crowd and some people try not to get swallowed by it.” For some reason I wrote down the words “case quarter”. It is an old term for a 25-cent piece. There is a first chapter for a mystery I am writing and a list of oddball characters for the book. Jumbled in amongst everything else is a sprinkling if phone numbers that of course have no names with them. There are several book titles that I want to read if I can ever find them. A handful of web sites and email addresses litter the pages. For some reason the words “blind in one ear” make an appearance.
There are a couple of pages of information on two old Singer sewing machines that I am trying to sell. A few pages of essays scribbled in miniature letters that I will have to borrow a microscope to be able to transcribe. On one page there is a list of new James Bond or maybe Dick Tracy characters that would be terrific – ratchet face, socket head, laser lips, antenna brain – I am not sure what prompted those.
My favorite thing in it is a quote from Road and Track magazine by my favorite magazine author Peter Egan. He is writing about movies that his parents would not let him see. “What is adulthood except a delayed end run around your parents better judgment?”
Too many of the things I have written I have no idea what they are or what them mean. More than a few were penned in the dark at some ungodly morning hour when I woke from an interesting dream. Some of those things that I have managed to decipher are the lines that states, “If all politicians were abducted by aliens would any one care – would any one notice?”, “being pecked to death by wild ducks”, “why doesn’t Mexico have an Olympic team? Is it because there is no Tequila drinking contest?” , and the ever popular, “feet planted firmly in mid air”
Most of the other stuff is so random that I have no idea how hard I had been hit on the head when I wrote it.
I wonder what someone would think of my mental condition if I were found unconscious with only this notebook in my possession. I am sure I would wake up nicely wrapped up in butterfly nets in a comfortable quiet padded room all my own where I could scribble strange things on as much paper as I could find.

Saturday, February 25, 2006


I have always heard that no two people will ever see the same event the same way. In my experience this has always been true. Each person watches things through the window of his or her beliefs and preconceived notions about what actually happened. Each individual’s experiences give them a view that no one else can duplicate. An engineer can see a problem and tries to find a better design. The mechanic sees the same problem and tries to fix it. The poet sees it and writes a ballad in tribute to those in the problem. A doctor looks and tries to find a cure. A scientist tries to analyze and quantify the problem. Yet each person sees the same occurrence. Three different people can watch the same movie and come away with different things. One person will comment on the special effects and filming techniques, one will marvel at the dialogue and interaction of the characters, and one will be in awe of the casting. Three people seeing the same thing in different ways.

These differences in perspective make our world a delightful and interesting place to live. Imagine all the different things that perspective brings to us. How many different ways are there to cook chicken? What if everyone drove the same type and color of car? How bland would a city be if all the buildings were identical? How boring would life be if we all wore the same uniform. This when we look at it, the differences in our world, even the ones we don’t like (provided that they aren’t immoral or unlawful), are what make each day a spectacular rainbow of variance and diversity. And in some ways our having a different perspective on things brings us closer together. It gives us a need for one another that would not exist otherwise.

I am not

I am not arguing - I am simply expounding the proper point of view in a logical manner, even though it is in direct opposition to your belief.
I am not yelling - I am simply presenting my case in at a volume which cannot be ignored.
I am not being arrogant - You are just not open to having me point out the inane reasoning of your thoughts.
I am not stubborn - I am simply unwilling to be moved from my belief.
I am not conceited - I am just right.
I am not childish - I am simply stopping my ears from being accosted by the sound of your voice.
I am not condescending - You are just wrong and you would realize that if you were as smart as I am.

You see if I have enough time I can make anything sound good. I did learn something from my ex.


I am me and he is him and he is not me and I am not him, but he and me are different from one another. Now that you know that I know that you know that I know there should be no more confusion. Thank you

The Question

To every man who has ever had a sister, girlfriend, or wife (Just not all three at once, please) there is nothing more terrifying than the question. The question is the worst thing a woman has ever inflicted on man. When asked men begin to tremble and try to blend in to the wallpaper. However, we soon learn that there is no escape. There is no correct answer. We can answer such questions such as how does the car work, how do airplanes stay in the air, what makes the sky blue, and what is the molecular makeup of dish detergent. We can fix the stove with a paper-clip, build a house out of toothpicks, and open a car one handed with a coat hanger while standing on our nose, but we cannot answer the question. We have answers for, “do you think she is pretty;” it is dangerous but we can pull it off. We can play poker while attached to a polygraph machine and still bluff a player with a full house into folding while we hold only recipe cards and bubble gum wrappers. If we answer “the question” we have signed out own death warrants. If we don’t answer we are condemned to being tortured to death and poisoned when we eat breakfast. Death by a million glares is a terrible way to go. When asked “the question” some men have been known to run in front of freight trains to make the end quick. If there is no train available they will build a railroad, buy a train and run over themselves. The real reason why man wanted to go to the moon was that one of their wives asked him the question, and he thought that the moon may be a good place to hide. He was wrong. Hunters and soldiers did not design camouflage clothing. No, a man created it after his wife had asked him the question. He managed to live another 30 minutes while she was searching for him. She finally destroyed the entire forest he was hiding in.
What is this question that strikes fear into hearts of generations of men all across the world. Brace yourself men – “Does this make me look fat?” or the more hideous variation, “Does this make my butt look big?” You see if a woman has to ask this question the answer is yes. Either that or “ you need therapy.” There is no correct answer. What should be said is “no the pants don’t but that entire chocolate cake and gallon of Godiva’s ice cream does.” Men have no escape once the question is asked. Since men have no warning for when they are going to be asked they have no way to prepare. They cannot take mind-altering drugs so they have an excuse for their answer, or at least lessen the pain that is going to be inflicted. Not answering is considered to be an affirmative answer, lying can result in permanent physical deformity, and the truth is deadly.
So men I offer this advice. If you ever have an inkling that the female in your life is thinking of asking the question - run. Run fast and far. Run faster than an Olympic gold medalist on a caffeine high. Run like the coyote with Acme rockets strapped to his feet. You cannot escape but you may prolong your life. You may have time to scribble you will on toilet paper in your own blood after you lock yourself a public bathroom. It may be a good idea to have a hole dug in the yard so you can bury yourself alive. As for me, I plan to carry a live grenade in my pocket. Who knows, maybe I can pull the pin before she realizes that I haven’t answered yet.

Circle the Wagons

I am amazed at how a group of people can argue fuss and fight constantly. They can run each other down and say terrible things about one another – until someone outside the group tries the same. Then every one circles the wagons and attacks as a cohesive group united against a common foe. Then after the conflict has ended they go right back to the difficult task of stabbing one another in the back.
I work a at a car auction on Wednesday nights. All of the employees are constantly back-stabbing and saying heinous things to and about each other. Then tonight a woman came in and attacked us. She called one of us a cheating liar. Well, let me tell you, I am surprised that she made it out without being skinned alive and hung from the flagpole. We don’t have a flagpole but we would have erected one just for her. In one united front we fought the evil foe. We banded together in a fashion that would have put the Navy Seals to shame. Then when she dragged her battered and bruised spittle soaked body off the property we went right back to fighting with each other. Nothing unites us like fighting.

Thursday, February 23, 2006

Love is a flower

Love is a flower that grows in the most unique of circumstances. The more difficult the surroundings the stronger the plant. When it is grown under conditions of ease and comfort it becomes a weak bloom that can wither and die at the first heated blast of adversity. However, when grown in the rocky soil of conflict and hardship it grows tall and strong weathering all seasons. No love can be said to be truly strong until it is tried in the kiln of sorrow and pain. Only the love that survives can be said to be true love. Fondness and affection can only tolerate isolated moments of struggle before the blossom fades forever leaving behind only the dried remains of it former self. No matter the winds that blow or the conditions that oppress true love it still remains. Its blossom may be battered and wilted, but it will revive and be stronger for its battering. “Now abideth faith, hope, and charity (true love), these three; but the greatest of these is charity.” (I Corinthians 13:13) True love conquers all and is defeated by none. It sinks its roots into the rockiest of soils and brings beauty to all around it. Lucky are those who find its fragrant blossom.

Marauding monsters

I hates my computer
Me thinks that I will sells it
For never does it what I wants
But only what I tells it.

Those wonderful lines were taped to a computer monitor in an office that my dad was working in. My dad owns a computer repair business in Tennessee so he daily deals with machines that refuse to cooperate with the orders given to them. Here in North Carolina I am responsible to the health and maintenance of four computers. Not a great amount, but if you take what I know about computers and stuff it in a thimble you would still have room left over for your toes. I can fix a car. I can fix a stove. I can even fix a stereo or a microwave depending on what is wrong with them. I have even delved into the mysterious inner workings of a VCR. But those things have no ability to think. Computers on the other hand are devious scheming little devices. Deep in side them are nasty little creatures that lurk in such things as hard drives and memory cards and modems and other strange sounding electronic mechanisms. The remain hidden and allow you to feel safe as long as you aren’t doing anything important, but as soon as you start an important project the nasty monsters attack. They assault your motherboard and dance on your CPU, and have wild drunken brawls that corrupt your work and cause you to need surgery for ulcers. They ravage and pillage in a way that the Vikings would be in awe of. Nothing is spared their savagery. They rape and ravage all the information stored in your memory. They juggle the words to your letters and manuscripts and throw them back haphazardly in no particular order. The more important the file the more vicious the attack. Fortunately for us these demonic beings have not discovered fire yet. If they had the keyboard would burst into flames as you neared the end of your work. Not even backup files are safe. There is a stack of floppy discs on my desk that have tiny little pillagers swinging from gossamer threads with their swords and axes hanging from their bodies attacking the information stored on them. There is no stopping these marauders even very mention of them will bring swift action on my writings and will seek to destroy my work before I have time to fini…

Monday, February 20, 2006

Our Children, Our Future

“No child is capable, emotionally or legally, of consenting to being photographed for sexual purposes. This, every image of a sexually displayed child – be it a photograph, a tape or a DVD - records both the rape of the child and an act against humanity. We must stop the hurt.” Andrew Vachss – Parade magazine Sunday, February 19, 2006 in an article entitled Lets Fight This Terrible Crime against Our Children

The most terrible of all crimes committed are committed against those who cannot defend themselves. The perpetrators of these inhuman acts destroy the innocence of a child and ruin the potential of that child. The damage done lasts a lifetime. It creates an ominous shadow that follows the child and never goes away. Even in adulthood these scars hinder the lives they have been inflicted upon. There is no excuse for this deviant behavior, nor should there be any leniency or mercy shown to the lower life forms that engage in such immoral and inhumane treatment of our most precious resource – our children. In this hyper-connected digital age of the Internet these images can never be destroyed. Their presence lingers forever in the electronic memories of computer all around the world. Pedophiles freely download and save images for their own perverted usage at their leisure. The children so exploited have no such freedom.
Our landscape is littered with milk cartons, posters, and billboards presenting images of missing children. Most of whom will never be found. Secretly their pictures are spread across the Internet after their abductors have forced them into photographic prostitution. Then when they are used up they are discarded. A beautiful life destroyed so a pervert can pleasure himself in the privacy of his own home. Our children will never be safe until this despicable act is stopped, and just punishments are meted out for the crime. Only then will our children be able to play in safety. Only then can we allow them to enjoy being children.
What is a just punishment for ruining a life? The death penalty is not too harsh for such a criminal. Even hardened murders in penitentiaries loathe these creatures that prey on innocence. For some the very act of being jailed is a death penalty in its self, with the criminals delivering the punishment that our justice system is too weak and flaccid to administer.
Somewhere we must take a stand and put an end to this blight on our society. Somehow we mush find a way to fight the ruination of a generation of children that have been born into the awful predatory society we live in. If we must take arms against the rapist of our children then so be it. If any action can save our children and provide a brighter future then let us, those responsible for providing that future, do what is necessary to insure the survival of their innocence. The world has enough dangers and pitfalls without us allowing our children to be thrown to the jackals, and destroyed, before they have a chance to Live.

Junk mail

I love junk mail as much as any one can. All the things I get constantly amuse me. Take this huge pile on my desk – please take this huge pile. I can refinance my home with four different companies – even though I rent an apartment and the only thing I own is a truck. I can take classes to learn everything from lock smithing (could be handy for when I launch my criminal career) to gun smithing (hummmm may even be handier for that criminal career) to computer repair and home inspection. I can improve my love life by taking little pills (wonder if they have one that will give me a love life) and I cam improve my golf swing by watching a video (will it help my putt-putt scores). From one company I can buy eighty zillion dollars in life insurance for only five cents or I can get coverage for unborn children by simply sending them a sample of my breath. But since I have another envelope her that says I have just won a shopping spree through Fort Knox I don’t need insurance. And I can drive to Kentucky for my windfall in one of the eight vehicles I can win if my key fits. Which I can save 14% in insuring with these seven insurance companies envelopes (If I keep calling each of them do they eventually have to pay me to insure my car?) But why do I need a car when this flier shows me how to build a fully functional helicopter out of paper clips and toilet paper. All the tools I need for construction I can select from one of the five tool catalogues that offer free delivery if I call them with a credit card number within fourteen seconds of touching the paper (I wonder how they know when I touch it). Credit card numbers will be easy to come by since I have offers from 47 different companies giving me unlimited credit on platinum cards. Which will come in handy when I start my own home business where people will throw money at me for just getting out of bed at three in the afternoon. And that bed will be comfortable since this pamphlet tells me all about the bed they will send me for a thirty day test. Extremely lazy rocket scientist that kept getting bedsores before a shuttle launch developed the mattress. It shows a picture of a mattress being smashed by Sumo wrestlers driving steamrollers and sustaining no damage. No word on what happened to the guy lying on the mattress during the experiment. I am not sure if I need it though because my bedroom is a low steamroller traffic area. I shouldn’t be able to damage the thing with my weight even if I use the multitude recipes and coupons I received for food that I have never tried (who cooks with Campbell’s cream of Yak anyhow). Although I won't gain any weight because I can shed pounds just by taking these pills while strapped to this machine that will electrocute me into a Schwarzeneggeresque physique with no more effort expended that plugging it in to the wall socket.
Yes, life is good. I have every thing well in hand here. It says so right here in this mailer from the health store that is stuck to the pizza coupons. Now I am going to check my email. Last time there was a offer on Russian mail order brides. I wonder how they ship them. I hope a flat rate is used instead of a per pound. Maybe I should select a really little one.


I have a gremlin that lives in my apartment. I have sat up at night with the shotgun waiting for him to appear so I can eradicate him. I am not so sure that my neighbors will appreciate the noise, but I cannot continue to let him live here. You see he is disrupting my ability to get anything done. He is constantly moving things around and hiding stuff. He has a particular love for my desk. You see I all but live at my desk. I eat here. I write here. I watch TV here. I would sleep here but I keep hitting my head on the computer when I do. This little nasty creature loves to pile junk on my desk. He hides the floppy disks that I need and he dumps all my ink pens in the floor. I guess the thing I hate about him the most is that he is always leaving empty water bottles in the desk and every thing not covered with empty bottles is covered with bottle caps. Then there is his hiding my salt shaker. I can’t stand that. I get all ready to eat. I have the newly nuked frozen dinner in my hand and all I need is the salt shaker, but when I look for it I cant find it anywhere. It is supposed to stay in the cabinet over the desk but it is never there. And don’t even get me started on the remote control. I know, I know I can reach the TV easily but I can’t watch it without the remote. Now you would think that since I stay at the desk all the time the remote would be right at hand, but the little gremlin is always taking it into the kitchen or bathroom or once he even hid it in my truck. For some reason he leaves my cell phone alone at least he has since the last time I had my next door neighbor call it so I could find it. That must not have been any fun to watch. He gets more enjoyment out of watching me get frustrated trying to find something to write with when just five minutes before I had a whole pickle jar full of them. (Yes. I said pickle jar. I am cheap and they make perfect pencil holders Somewhere around here I have a salsa jar full of crayons and markers. And, yes, I wash the jars out before I use them as office equipment.) He leaves the jar but takes all the pencils and pens. Then he hides them all in the couch cushions – where I never sit by the way. His favorite thing to hide is my dictionary. Even though the cover is bright red I constantly have to dig through all the junk mail and newspapers to find it.
So if you drive past my apartment one night and you hear a shot fired, don’t be too concerned – it just means I finally got the little bugger.

Saturday, February 18, 2006

Routine occurrences

It is amazing and sometimes amusing the routines we can fall into. Some of these routines are conducive to making things run more efficiently. Others are not. Take for instance my and a friend of mine’s routines for entering the house.
When I get home I walk down the sidewalk with my house key in my left hand. My right hand is reaching for the mailbox while my eyes scan the door for any notes left by visitors or the UPS man. I enter the house and turn immediately to the table next to the door with a small wooden box on it. Into this box goes my keys, change, pocket knife, wallet, notepad, ink pen, and whatever else may be in my pockets. I also put my cell phone holder in there. Now when I leave the apartment again I only have to stop at the box and load my pockets and head out. Nice and efficient.
Now my friend, on the other hand, has a slightly different routine. He walks to the door and stands there for several minutes rummaging through a huge key ring trying to find his key. When he finally gets inside he puts his keys on the first thing he comes to. Then he walks through the house distributing at random the contents of his pockets. There is no limit as to where these items my be placed. Now when he is ready to leave, he, his wife, his two children, myself (If I am over at his house at the time), half of the NC National Guard, three neighbors, four blood hounds, nine cats, and six CIA spy satellites are tasked to scour the house in search of various items. The search can last for a few seconds or may last a good part of the day. I am sure that over half of his cell phone minutes are used up when his wife calls it from the home phone trying to find out where it is hidden.
Two different routines. Two different results. So the next time you pick on someone for being a creature of habit be careful. Their habits may just be more efficient than your non habits.

the 2000s

The new millennium brought with it many expectations. I have to admit that I to fell into the frenzy of excitement that accompanied a new set of numbers on our calendar. For me it has brought no end of trouble both physically and emotionally. In this new era I have suffered injury from a car accident. I have seen my marriage end. I have had a friend murdered by a man who is still alive in prison. I have made more trips to the emergency room and doctors office than I have ever made in my life. However, This new millennium has brought good as well. I have seen the birth of my two daughters. I have made a few wonderful new friends. I have been able to accomplish some things that I have dreamed of all my life. I have learned some of my greatest strengths. And I have overcome a few of my strongest weaknesses. I have learned many new lessons and relearned a few old ones that I had forgotten. The twenty first century may not have been entirely kind to me, but it hasn’t been all together unforgiving either. And I suppose that is a good sign of things to come.

Ready to try again?

In the past few months I have had two beautiful and completely different female companions to share my small apartment with me. The first of them was a raven-haired beauty. She had big beautiful green eyes. She would lounge about the apartment showing her sensuous curves. At night she would curl up beside me letting me know how much she loved me. She would sit in my lap and all was right with the world. After a few months she developed a severe stomach problem and would throw up all over my apartment. Eventually I had to have her put to sleep. You see Onyx was a cat. She was such a sweet animal that I hated to let her go, but I could not bear to see her suffer.
The second was a beautiful tiny tiger striped gray kitten that crawled up in my shirt one day to get warm when I was working on a friend’s van. She was a wonderful companion until she began to urinate in my bed. Doing this once I could understand. Twice I could forgive. But every night was too much. I tried everything I could think of to make her stop this aberrant behavior but she refused. The way my apartment is laid out there was no way to keep her out of the bedroom unless I started sleeping in the closet. One night I opened the front door to go outside and she ran out. Understandably, I did not go after her.
A few weeks ago I came in to my apartment and a black streak shot past my feet and stopped on the couch. It was a beautiful solid black cat. I wanted so badly to keep her, but since I had given all of my cat food and other kitty accessories away, and I didn’t have the cash on hand to go buy new stuff I had to put her back out. Maybe someday she will return. The house is empty without a woman.

Reality check

Occasionally the icy cold iron hand of reality reaches out and slaps me. Making me painfully aware of those things of which I was blissfully ignorant or blithely ignoring. The realization of the destruction caused to a loved one is greater than the embarrassment I feel at my own self-will. How do I adequately apologize for the imposition of my stubbornness? What penance is enough to pay for my error? No amount of tears can wash away the stain of having taken joy from one I held so dear. Time will fade the stain. It will bind the wounds. But it can never undo the injustice I have brought. But it can never assuage the shame of my actions. Only loves forgiveness can repair the breach. Only caring can erase the marks of disgrace. Time, however, may bring these things.

Friday, February 17, 2006

Synchronous Dichotomy

Why does one feel so deeply those things that others seem to not feel at all, and, conversely, why do those things which cut others to the marrow easily glance from one’s skin? What makes this dichotomous relationship in the depth of emotion in similar beings? One who cries while the other laughs and one who stands fearlessly against the hordes of hell while another frees from angelic apparitions? What possible reasoning could be inferred from this diversity of personality? Should not that which instills response of one nature not always illicit that same response? Why should the same stimuli cause a person to scream in terror and a different person to laugh with glee?
Perhaps this dichotomy stems from the experiences that each individual brings into any encounter. One who has been bitten by a snake can not be expected to react the same to the creature as one who had never seen the slithering creature. But experience alone can not bridge that chasm between the two polar opposite responses. Nor can religion, education, training, or predetermination fully explore the predilection of ones psyche towards response.
I submit the following pontification of the dilemma. Perhaps these variances are no more than mere differences in perspective. That the differences between response to a catalyst is the viewpoint that the sum total of a persons life causes them to imbue to each stimulus of circumstance. That emotional response is more logical than given credit. Perchance then all of emotion can be borne on the shoulders of reason and insight. Or more likely emotional response is just that – emotion – and not subject to the vagaries of explanation.

Hiding from yourself

Most have no problem facing external problems and difficulties. They can face these foes head on and never falter. However, it is the foes within themselves that they cannot bear to stand against. Thus they find themself lost in an attempt to hide from themselves. The vain attempts to run from the inner beasts that plague every person are a tiresome affair. For in the attempt to flee they bring the problem with them. In this they strengthen the quandary they sought to escape. But when the absurd situation is realized and the individual determines that there is no safe haven in which they cannot seek shelter without destroying themselves, they can begin to overcome the obstacles to normality and find that in facing their inner demons they are stronger than when they hide from themselves.

Dangerous proposition

An acquaintance of mine recently informed me that he had a free membership offer to a popular women’s weight loss gym. He asked me if I knew anyone who would be interested in it. After searching through my mind for possible candidates it became obvious to me that I could be in no small danger if I went to any woman I know and offered her the gift. Even giving the membership to a thin woman could result in dire consequences. After some reflection I told him of my unwillingness to risk bodily harm in offering it to any woman I knew. Soon we had a great time laughing about the injuries that might be inflicted upon ourselves. So for now he carries in his wallet a certificate for the gym. Maybe he can anonymously send it to a woman who can use it. Although, if he does I hope that the woman is either single or her husband is out of town.

Spill cheque?

The glorious age of the modern computer has brought many wonderful things to our lives, not the least of which is word processing. This tool can take a functionally illiterate person and make them sound erudite. It cam also make some hilarious changes in the meaning and intent of the sentences that they correct. For example, “her parents are deceased” ,can easily become, “Her parents are diseased”. Thus a few letters can change her parents from being dead to being hemophiliac lepers. Imagine that error on a first date probably would end any chance of second date. Or perhaps,” he is easily distracted,” can become, “he is easily destructed”. Talk about your feet of clay. Or a rich man can go from being the “owner of a paper” to being the “owner of a pauper”. He would probably fall from good social standing at that. Then a traffic cop could go from” having a whistle in his mouth” to “having a thistle in his mouth”. In the case of the latter I would not want to run any red lights in his vicinity. It would be a gruesome thing indeed to not be “plagued by the raspy coughing of a coworker” to “plague by the raspy coffin of a coworker.” And who would not be worried that his girlfriend “stood on the edge of the precipice and viewed the expansive waste below” if he read that she “stood on the edge of the precipice and viewed the expansive waist below” definitely would be time to look into a weight loss program fro someone.
For all the wonderful things computer bring to our lives they also take something away. That something often is just exactly what we meant to say.

Wednesday, February 15, 2006

Little things

It is always interesting that after an emotional high comes an emotional low. Sometimes the one is as extreme as the other. After a great accomplishment is achieved there is a sense of loss of the motivation to complete the task. It is during that emotional lull that the smallest thing can come along and jerk the rug out from under you. It is never some huge obstacle that thwarts your happiness, but some small stone in you shoe that ruins the joy of achievement. Then begins the long climb back to ground level again so that you can begin the ascent to joy again.

I survived VD

At 12:15 this morning I had a revelation. I had survived Valentines Day or as I call it VD. It isn’t that I am opposed to romance or naked babies randomly shooting archery at unsuspecting strangers. But I am opposed to spending the week prior to VD being constantly bombarded by every TV, newspaper and radio telling me that I am obligated to have a date and buy gifts and flowers. I am not against dating and I don’t mind buying gifts and flowers – as a matter of fact I gave a friend of mine some flowers, (OK it was actually a plant but it had flowers on it.) but I did it because I wanted to and not because I had to. So now I have survived VD Who knows maybe next year I will be able to share VD with someone special. We should all be so lucky.

Monday, February 13, 2006

Can't win for loosing.

I have had a terrible time keeping a transmission in the WarWagon lately. In the past year I have replaced it four times. Just when I thought my problems were over I pulled out of a friends driveway in the pouring rain saturday night and lost a transmission cooling line. I made it three miles away before the tranny startred to slip and then managed to coast it into a parking lot. I got to lay out in the cold rain and repair it and managed to fill my hair with the wonderful red transmission fluid. So I went back to my friends house and washed my hair and warmed up and dried off a bit. Hopefully nothing internal was damaged by the loss of fluid.

Bed time

I told a good friend of mine that I was going to get in bed at a reasonable hour last night. I lied. I managed to crawl in bed after 3a.m. It is getting to be a habit. I think that I worked third shift for so long that it only takes one late night to get my schedule so wracked around that I cant go to bed till the sun is almost up. At least I am getting a lot of writing done although my little laptop probably wished I would go to bed earlier too.

Friday, February 10, 2006

Mowing the Grass

Don’t tell my dad this, but I used to love mowing the yard when I was a kid. Actually it wasn't the mowing itself I liked, but it was the time I had to myself while I was doing it. Even with the motor blaring in my ear I had time to daydream and think without being interrupted. It was my own little world while I pushed the mower around the yard. I mowed about six yards a week in the summer and apart from the money I made I had lots of time to myself. In high school we moved out to the country and got a riding mower. It required a bit more concentration (once I drove it into a tree), and had the added bonus of sitting down while I thought. The yard was big enough that I had about two and half-hours.
Now that I am grown, living by myself, and 450 miles away from my parents yard I have lots of time to myself. Which is OK because if don’t have an yard to mow, but sometimes when I really need to think I drive over to a friends house, fire up his old Snapper and cut his grass. But just don't tell my dad, ok?


For the past few nights I have been up late doing some writing. The only problem withthat is that I don't get in bed till the sun is peeking over the trees. Makes me wonder why I can't be creative during the day. I am however pleases with the direction my writing is taking. SO if you wonder why I haven't posted much in the way of deep insiteful thoughts lately it is that I am too tired to be deep, insiteful and thoughtful.

Wednesday, February 08, 2006


Life, at times, can be the most difficult thing to get a grasp on. I think that scientist have an easier time understanding particle physics than I do of understanding the things that happen in everyday life. The daily interactions with others can cause even the greatest of thinkers and scholars to scratch their heads and say, “What the heck was that about?” Sometimes, during these moments, we can miss the most basic needs of another – unfortunately often someone we care deeply about. A single word can cause pain to a cherished friend, and the damage that is done can be devastating. It is during these moments that a friendship can be made stronger or destroyed. Delicate handling of the wound is required – the salve of love applied to the wound of indifference. What is most important in these exchanges is that both parties learn to have a deeper and more profound understanding of each other.

Monday, February 06, 2006


By William H. White, Jr.

Words in and of themselves are fairly innocuous things for the most part. Of course there are some words that are just horrendous, but mainly they are harmless. It is how these innocent words are assembled that gives them power. The spoken (or written) word is the most powerful force in the world. It can educate or destroy. It can give life or it can take it. Words that are of themselves dead are brought to life in their meeting. Only the user of the words can make them live.
Hitler used his words to ignite the German people to kill millions of Jews and start a war. Dr. Martin Luther King used words to unite people. Therapists use words to heal people. Politicians use words to deceive people. Preachers use words to inspire people. The usage of words in unending and unpredictable.

Words can make you laugh.
You can pick you friends, and you can pick your nose, but you can’t wipe your friends under the couch.

Words can make you think.
Did you hear about the cannibal who passed his brother in the jungle?

Words can make you cry
I don’t think we should see each other any more.

Words can make you happy.
Congratulations, you have a new baby boy.

Words can make you scared.
I’m sorry but the cancer is malignant.

Words can make you mad.
We don’t let your kind in here.

Words can make you excited.
Yes, I will marry you.

Words can make you helpless.
I am sorry we did all we could do, but we couldn’t save him.

Words can make you strong.
Daddy, help me.

Words can make your heart stop.
I love you.

Words can make you proud.
You did a good job.

Words can make you ashamed.
I can’t believe you did that.

Words can make you smile
You are beautiful

Words can make you frown.
Daddy, I spilled grape juice on the new couch.

Words can make you glad you are alive.
Kiss me, hold me, and never let me go.

Words can make you wish you were never born.
You are a disgrace to your family.

In the entire world the most powerful force is words. No weapon of mass distraction can compare with its might. No prizefighter can hit harder. No sword can cut deeper. Words are the foundation of society and relationships. Without words no laws would exist, no lover would be able to woo his love, and no education could be given to fertile young minds. Without words civilizations would be lost, great works of literature gone, and libraries would have never existed. A picture may be worth a thousand words. But a single word correctly placed is more valuable that all the riches of the world.

I found my muse

I Found my Muse

I found muse. It seems he hadn’t left at all. He simply got buried under the pile of papers and unopened junk mail on my desk. Poor thing. He was all rumpled and crumpled from the weight of my procrastination. He was right between the power bill and a Wal-Mart sales paper. Good thing for me I was looking for those KFC coupons or I would have never found him.
I pulled him out and shook him off. Then I carefully washed him and hung him out to dry. Now that I have ironed (with heavy starch to make sure he stays crisp) him he is back at my computer where he belongs.
He is a funny little guy. Always has something to say about everything. He is good at telling jokes. And he wasn’t too upset about being caught in the avalanche on my desk. He did request that when not in use I place him back on the shelf where he belongs. Good advice because when I need him I don’t want to have to go digging around the miscellaneous debris on my desk to find him.

Saturday, February 04, 2006

My muse is missing, have you seen him?

For some reason I feel particularly uninspired lately. I haven’t been able to write much of anything. I suppose there are many varied reasons for it, but it is a bit depressing. Those who know me will tell you that I always have something to say – whether or not anybody wants to listen. But for the past week I have struggled to say anything at all. Perhaps it is just a bad mood, or maybe it is the pain medicine the doctor gave me for my back. Either way I am not having much fun. I have sat at my keyboard for hours staring at the blank screen with nothing to put on it other than I have nothing to say.
For someone who enjoys writing it is a bit depressing and overwhelming to not be able to write. So I guess for now I will just hang on and hope that my muse returns soon. I hope he doesn’t stay gone too long.If you see him please tell him to come home. I am missing him.