Holiday Blues, Mean Reds, and Immobilization

There are so many things that I really should do, I don't know why I bother telling it to you.

Yesterday sucked, in a distant way that had very little practical impact on my day. But it brought up lots of bad memories and forced the recognition of current bad situations. And I tried to be nice to a mentally ill psycho hose beast* and the inevitable happened: it came back and bit me on the ass.

Again, not it any way that I can't pretty successfully manage/avoid. It just reminds me how sad, tired, and angry this kind of thing makes me.

People have every right to completely screw up their lives and self destruct. Where your self entitlement ends is when you involve other people in your literal or figurative demises.

Setting aside all questions of co-dependency, enabling behaviors, and the personal choices of the bystanders, I would like to say this: fuck your life up all you want, but if you have the poor taste and planning to do it in front of an audience, you are not allowed to deny that audience their right to an opinion or reaction.

That's right, I said it. You have Personal Responsibility that extends beyond  yourself. That happened when you made that marriage Vow, when you decided to procreate, when you invited or forced people into your life to share it with you. You want to go hurt yourself? Then sack up and go do it in private.

This crap where people decide they are going to (usually painfully, maddeningly slowly) kill themselves in front of others is bullshit. It doesn't work because these people invariable announce that they Will Not Be Told how to live their lives because it's Their Decisions.

Yeah, fly that one by the person who drove your ass to the hospital, or picked you up out of a pile of your own vomit, or made sure your rent got paid on time. See, the way this works is you don't get to verbally, emotionally or physically abuse your spouse, kids, or the random schmucks who are stupid enough to care about you. That ain't the deal. And everybody who runs around all self righteous about It's My Life seems to constantly forget that they'd be sitting in a pile of their own shit if they didn't have other people in their lives changing their diapers for them.

It is each of our own lives, and we may do with them as we see fit. But let's all at least have the common decency not to take the coward's way out with a captive audience.

And how did I handle it? The wrong way, I suppose. I should have gone out into the world and celebrated living and done one of the ten billion things on my list and thrown in something fun. But I didn't make any of those healthy choices. I just camped out here.

It's raining again today. There's lots of stuff I could do. Some stuff I should do. I should probably get on that.

*Not an exaggeration.

Your Real Holiday Present

First of all, for anybody who doesn't know, I am fully aware of the Incredible Smoothness and Magical Rainbow Effervescence that is the Power of Kenny Loggins:

Now, in a wonderful bit of universal kismet, two of my favorite things have been combined.

If you have never read the blog Hyperbole and a Half, you are seriously undermining your quality of life.

I happened across this little gem today. Allie is one of those storytellers who makes me laugh out loud, often to the point of tearing up. Among the little gifts in this story are

The wise men, who were heavily intoxicated at that point in the evening, decided to dress themselves like gypsies.
******
The wise men were in the kitchen making more cocktails while Jesus was being "born" and they missed their cue. My mom ran into the kitchen and yelled "Jesus is here!" to which the wise men responded "Oh! Right! Shit. Hang in there, Jesus! We're coming!!" 


And there are pictures!!


So check out the quick, illustrated tale. I can't recommend the blog highly enough. You can thank me later.

http://hyperboleandahalf.blogspot.com/2010/12/year-kenny-loggins-ruined-christmas.html

And remember kids:

Episode V: The Yoga Strikes Back

Ouch.

It's 8:37 here. I should really get up, go hit two stores for groceries and such, bathe, clean the bathroom, do the dishes, wash my car, update my files, balance my checkbooks, contact my landlord. . .

*sigh*

Much of this is predicated by another trip to another store. I am spending so much friggin money these days. I Must Be Stopped.

On the plus side, I have something to bring to Christmas dinner. Like the wise man in the story of old, I will bring the Gift of Hooch. Merry Ramazaakah and happy transubstantiation to everybody.

I Get More Done Before 3:30 pm. . .

. . . than I'll get done for the rest of the week.

Guess what, guys? (What, blatherblahg?)

IT'S NOT RAINING TODAY!!!

Though I have relocated to a climate conspicuous for its absence of precipitation, even immortalized in song, there has been nothing but constant piddling drizzle for nigh on a week now. There was even talk of tornadoes and hail.

The folks here are aghast. But I'm not surprised. It's well documented that the gods hate me, so a literal cloud of gloom and doom following me out here really isn't too far afield from the norm. Joke's on the locals--I'm used to oppression and misery, just another day for me.

Anyhoo, today dawned bright and sunny, and I made haste yon nearest Ross discount store, for a thing or two. Well, $150 later, I nipped back across the way to FINALLY resolve my banking issues, then off to try out a yoga and tai chi class.

Pause for a word on Ross'--if you find yourself in the way of needing housewares, check here before anywhere else. The clothing you can take or leave, but the prices on crap like glasses, plates, cookware, organizers--it's insane. Example: over the door rack hanger thingy cost $18 at Target. Ross price is $9. And dumb stuff, like packs of hangers--it's just ridiculous what you can find there at cut rate prices.

I was THE ONLY ONE at this yoga class. Which would have normally made me very uncomfortable, but the instructor must have had some kind of magic mojo going on, because I never gave it a second thought. I'm not quite sure what all we did up in there, but I think some of it was Flow style, with some Hatha stretches. It was a good workout. She claims my hamstrings are not tight. I will be sure to discuss that with them tomorrow.

Even though I look like a fat slob (i.e. I am a fat slob), she was very surprised that I hadn't worked out in over year and that I hadn't been involved with yoga or dance. I tell you what I told her: any grace or body awareness I have I owe to my sensei. I don't like to mention that I studied with him for a variety of reasons, not the least of which being I feel like I'm an embarrassment to his art. But what little I can do stems from my years under his tutelage. A natural athlete I am not, but I might have picked up the art of listening to instructions along the way.

The tai chi class was a little different. Part of the point is to go slow, at which I am no good. (I wanna go fast! I wanna go fast!) And not just slow paced, but slow learning. Big focus on body awareness there, which one can never have enough of--evidenced quite clearly by my impatience to move past the slow stuff to. . . the what? That's the whole point of so many things. We are so busy rushing to get to whatever we think is the goal that we forget how to get there. Or we half ass it. Strange little class, but amusing. Some of the core moves made me feel like I was sneaky creeping around. Hee. No, it doesn't take much. Shut up.

Home again, and to two Christmas cards in the mailbox. Yay! I still need to go to a grocery store and buy some crap to make some junk for Christmas day dinner with my ree-lay-tive. Maybe I'll just bring booze.

I have one more appt later tonight then I'm Freeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee. Except for the Christmas thing. Whoopee!

Too many words? Not enough pictures? Okay.


Colorform flowers!


Monkey wearing fez!


Kenny Loggins!



Michael McDonald!

And to round it out, two fellas who, inexplicably, haven't gotten around to asking me out. What could be the reason?

Perhaps they are discussing it right there. Somebody looks a little unsure of himself. Maybe Gerry is suggesting that they go get spruced up before making THAIR BEEG MOVE. Yes, I'm sure that's it.

In closing, Happy Holy Kwanzaa everybody. And really, don't get me anything for the holidays. Let me get you something:

Deserving of Its Own Post

The following in an excerpt from a monologue taken from a comedic film:

"I'm sorry, but I don't want to be an Emperor - that's not my business. I don't want to rule or conquer anyone. I should like to help everyone, if possible -- Jew, gentile, black man, white. We all want to help one another; human beings are like that. We want to live by each other's happiness, not by each other's misery. We don't want to hate and despise one another. In this world there's room for everyone and the good earth is rich and can provide for everyone.

The way of life can be free and beautiful. But we have lost the way.

Greed has poisoned men's souls, has barricaded the world with hate, has goose-stepped us into misery and bloodshed. We have developed speed but we have shut ourselves in. Machinery that gives abundance has left us in want. Our knowledge has made us cynical, our cleverness hard and unkind. We think too much and feel too little. More than machinery, we need humanity. More than cleverness, we need kindness and gentleness. Without these qualities, life will be violent and all will be lost.

The aeroplane and the radio have brought us closer together. The very nature of these inventions cries out for the goodness in men, cries out for universal brotherhood for the unity of us all. Even now my voice is reaching millions throughout the world, millions of despairing men, women, and little children, victims of a system that makes men torture and imprison innocent people.

To those who can hear me I say, "Do not despair." The misery that is now upon us is but the passing of greed, the bitterness of men who fear the way of human progress. The hate of men will pass and dictators die; and the power they took from the people will return to the people and so long as men die, liberty will never perish.

Soldiers: Don't give yourselves to brutes, men who despise you, enslave you, who regiment your lives, tell you what to do, what to think and what to feel; who drill you, diet you, treat you like cattle, use you as cannon fodder. Don't give yourselves to these unnatural men, machine men, with machine minds and machine hearts! You are not machines! You are not cattle! You are men! You have the love of humanity in your hearts. You don't hate; only the unloved hate, the unloved and the unnatural.

Soldiers: Don't fight for slavery! Fight for liberty! In the seventeenth chapter of Saint Luke it is written, "the kingdom of God is within man" -- not one man, nor a group of men, but in all men, in you, you the people have the power, the power to create machines, the power to create happiness. You the people have the power to make this life free and beautiful, to make this life a wonderful adventure.

Then, in the name of democracy, let us use that power! Let us all unite!! Let us fight for a new world, a decent world that will give men a chance to work, that will give you the future and old age a security. By the promise of these things, brutes have risen to power, but they lie! They do not fulfill their promise; they never will. Dictators free themselves, but they enslave the people!! Now, let us fight to fulfill that promise!! Let us fight to free the world, to do away with national barriers, to do away with greed, with hate and intolerance. Let us fight for a world of reason, a world where science and progress will lead to all men's happiness.

Soldiers: In the name of democracy, let us all unite!!"

--The Great Dictator, 1940

May this holiday season find you well, safe, loved, and with all those same comforts and securities for your beloved.

I need a cigarette. . .

. . . except that I don't smoke. But that's how good the facial/massage I got today was.

Strange evening. But strange good.

It's raining and dreary, and I had to run to the bank and get my haircut and tacked a facial/massage on the end (web discount, score!).

And yet, it all worked out wonderfully. I think I really like Venice Beach. Got a rather uninspired haircut, but we'll see. The salon itself was a trip--Paper Scissors Rock. It's been there for over 20 years. I got done so quickly at the bank (surprise!) that I hit my appt early. They gave a beer while I waited. Can't beat that with a stick.

Down the street in the dreary rain and my first parallel park later, I trudged up to the Creative Chakras spa. I wasn't feeling the spa love, till the facialist got to me feet. Oh boy.

Then they pulled the ol' switcheroo and brought in the massage dude. That's right--Dude. I'm pretty open minded, but most of my bodywork has been with gals. Maybe it's ridiculous, but when it's a guy I always feel more self conscious.

Having said that, my best massages have been with guys. And this one might have been the best ever. It was strong without being painful, and he had a really good consistent pressure. (Oh, get your damn minds out of the gutter). The whole thing was so pleasant, I stopped for a bottle of wine on the way home.

I entered a random sketchy looking liquor store and found a little wine oasis. The owner hand wrote his own notes for each bottle, because he likes to "proselytize" about his wine. I ended up picking a Pinot Gris from Alsace, described as "extravagant." Another bottle was "unctuous." How could I not buy from this guy?

Home again, driving in the abysmal rain with poorly marked roads, but feeling semi-confident in my navigation. Some CraigyFerg putting the "hooker the closet"  and talking about being a serial killer. A quick dinner of of sauteed mushrooms, basil, tomato, sliced chicken, mozzarella and god knows what.

Today's not so bad.

The Dude Abides (On the Grid)

Let me begin with a disclaimer: this is the first 3-D movie I have seen since. . . well, probably ever. So I cannot offer any kind of comparison for the special effects of this film versus others in this genre.

Tron: Legacy was an interesting experience. Refreshingly, the story is an actual sequel, attempting to pick up in logical place the last movie left off. It’s not a total reboot, or complete revisionist history.

In brief, the story is a serviceable little action movie, whose plot is amazingly like a video game. (I C WUT U DID THAR, DIZNEE). Sam Flynn (Garrett Hedlund) is the young heir to an intellectual and fiscal empire, but loses his father Kevin Flynn (Jeff Bridges) under mysterious circumstances. Like, literally loses him. Ol’ Kevin’s gone missing and stays that way for a decade plus. (Unbeknownst to poor Sam, but knownst to us, the Dude was just chilling in some bowling alleys in L.A., sipping Caucasians this whole time.)

Flash forward years later and Sam is a young man, daring, wild, and skilled. He rejects his leadership position at his lost father’s thriving company, though he thrills in pranking them by releasing their software platforms for free. But then, just like in every SquareSoft RPG you ever played, Sam and surrogate father figure and Flynn ally, Alan Bradley (Bruce Boxleitner), receive a mysterious message that seems to come from the missing Kevin.

And so Sam begins a quest to find his father, complete with secret portals, beautiful warrior chicks, and fight scenes literally choreographed to the Daft Punk soundtrack. 

That’s the meat and potatoes of the movie, and it doesn’t stray far beyond those parameters. What I found surprising about the movie was the level of nostalgia that permeated the entire film. I can’t profess to be a die-hard original Tron fan, but I felt that there was some real respect and affection for the source material. Even though they are capitalizing on the Tron name as a platform to launch the movie, the filmmakers never denigrate or ignore the source material. There are some tweaks and nudges, but underlying the whole theme seems to be a very meta awareness of just where this vehicle comes from.

It’s not just a thematic choice, it’s evident in the casting of original actors and the self-conscious nods to the origins of this universe. A scene wherein Sam reactivates his father’s dormant arcade is replete with such touches, from the cacophony of the old style games to the 80’s music that is unapologetically blasting from the jukebox. Kevin Flynn is a time capsule of a character, still using 80’s slang to comic effect throughout the movie. They are broad strokes, but in a movie that is essentially a cartoon, it seems to work. Tron: Legacy seems to be not as interested in creating an impossible future as in acknowledging the not so distant past, which is technologically light years behind our world today.

Bridges is doing a variation on his hippie, stoner persona here, but it works. He is just earnest enough that the tongue in cheek tone of his proclamations seem natural and fun, instead of forcibly ironic. Interestingly, this makes me really want to see True Grit, because it looks like a complete 180 for him.

Hedlund fulfills his role, and hints at the possibility of having a little more depth than your average pretty boy. But he’s pretty bland overall. Olivia Wilde looks amazing as the requisite love interest/hot babe in spandex, Quorra. She manages to be innocent without being too sappy, and is pretty inoffensive as far as token females go.

I’m pretty sure the majority of the FX budget went not to the light cycle duels or airship races, but to digitizing Jeff Bridges’ face into that of a 30-something year old. It’s distracting in the “real world” scenes, but a little more acceptable in the virtual environment. However, it might have helped if some of the other Programs looked a little more plastic. On that note, why not give ol’ Boxleitner a go? That man looks damn amazing for his age.

Michael Sheen shows up as Castor, the proprietor of the Grid version of Rick’s Café Americain. But instead of emulating Bogart, Sheen’s channels straight David Bowie and has a fun time with it. It’s ridiculously over the top, eerily familiar, and a little flair in the dark world of the Grid.

I think it’s worth mentioning that I got a hardcore Star Wars: A New Hope vibe several times throughout the movie. It’s hard to believe this wasn’t noticed, if not intentional. There were several scenes with Lucas-alicious imagery, especially involving some hoodies and robes. Incredibly sly skewering of Lucas’ blind devotion to all-digital/all the time, or lazy, derivative filmmaking? You decide.

Overall, a middling to decent action flick.  Like with a lot of sci-fi, you just kinda have to go on faith with the tech (oh, the irony). I didn’t quite buy off on all the mumbo jumbo they were selling about new life forms and virtual worlds, but who the hell cares? I’m unsure how this will sell to the younger set. Again—my overall takeaway was one of extreme nostalgia, and I’m not sure how that will translate for a disassociated audience. The primary fun for me was watching Bridges gently send himself up, and wondering how much they saved in the FX department by using reflective tape as the primary costuming supply.

Big Day of 2 Hour Increments

Say, what's this curious little tableau?

Is it the detritus of an 80's themed rave? Could it be the identikit of an Elvis Costello impersonator? Perhaps it's the evidence from a light cycle hit and run crime scene?

Nope. It's the end of a long day wherein somebody got to hang out at the DMV for two hours, but also got to see Tron: Legacy in 3-D before it hit the theaters.

That's right bitches, my first perk. Also, my first experience with all the new fangled 3-D teknolojeez you kids have been talking about. I've some thoughts on the movie, but that's for a proper entry later.

There have been other goings-on as well. Now with MOAR PIX PLEAZ!

In another few weeks, I will have fingertips of hardened steel and hands like the talons of an eagle. This will be from stupid crap like having to remove my license plate using a dime for a screwdriver (the dime did its duty, but lost in the end). It will also be from assembling IKEA furniture. Which comes with tools you HAVE to use, but allow for no leverage. If only I hand the tensile strength of a dairy farmer. This faboo little $30 number took about two hours of my life, if not more.

So small and innocent looking, yet so deadly. Oh well, jokes on you, IKEA, because I used the rubber cement (from your packaging)  that got stuck to the bamboo floors to adhere some remnant felt to the bottom of this shelf. Voila!--instant sliders/floor protection.

Don't look at me like that. I'm thrifty, okay? Not in any practical, money saving way. Just in a weird, why waste your time doing that kind of way.

But wait, there's more! Looks like somebody has been....gasp...cooking!

And what's this? Doing dishes too? Truly, the mind reels:

Check that mood lighting out on those dishes. I think they are hitting on me. Much like the guy at the DMV today. You know, I can't really blame him for being a shameless flirt--he's just trying to liven up his job.

He read my height, eye and hair color (kindly leaving out my weight) and said, "Don't get no better than that!"

Then he noted my lack of middle moniker, so he gave me one: "Too Cute." I'd pretty much blushed as much as I could at that point, so I told him he was Too Much. Nice to see someone having fun with their job. I also gave credit advice to the girl who processed my registration.

Okay, I'm whooped. Hopefully I can fall asleep at a decent hour. Tomorrow is more fun with appointments and crap.

Have I mentioned the cat that looks in my skylights and sets off the auto-close? Do I just sound deranged?

One bummer note--have to make holiday plans final soon. I'm not really feeling the love, and I'm on the verge of just canceling any and all trips at this time. bleh.

One for My Baby, One for the Road

That's the song on my player right now. I love the way Sinatra sings it. It does make one a bit gloomy, as the man says.

I don't know what it is exactly I did all day today, from my 6:30 a.m. wakeup, but I'll be damned if it doesn't feel like jack-squat.

I walked about two miles into town yesterday, and before my exploration could really get underway I got a phone call about lunch. The folks were kind enough to come retrieve me, as I was an easy 45 minutes from my house and car. I got a pick up in the middle of the boulevard, which cracked me up at the time and is making me smile even now. I was pretty much hijacked for the rest of the day, until I begged off between 9 and 10 p.m.

I had planned to watch some movies and stuff today. Instead I've done some online stuff, cooked*, took a bath in the lap pool that passes for my tub, talked to my Mom, assembled IKEA furniture, blah blah did-this-really-take-all-day-cakes?

(*Don't get excited, I just cooked two chicken breasts on the stovetop with my ONE PAN. This made for some salad for lunch, and waaaaaaaay too many dishes for the effort. Still, I can't recall the last time I cooked anything, so, not for nothing. . . )

I caught the last half or three quarters of Public Enemies, with Christian Bale and Johnny Depp. It's all about John Dillinger and the task force set up to track him down. It's an interesting story, and I'm going to research the whole subject further, because I think it might have been the beginning of what has developed into the interstate definitions of federal crimes. I need to see this whole flick, and can, with the magic of DVR! (This thing is going to ruin my life).

At any rate, I'm watching the movie and I was quite struck with a particular shoot out scene. The machine gun pops and rattles, the pings of bullets ricocheting off at odd angles, the decimation of the house walls into plaster dust, the random crackling that makes you think you could hear a gunfight and wonder if somebody wasn't setting off firecrackers somewhere. . . it seemed so real, so dimensional and contextually accurate. It was so the opposite of the usual cinematic gunfight.

I was then struck by the score (not something I normally notice about movies), and how the music truly evoked additional emotion in the scenes, adding lovely layers of subtext that informed the story.

Bale and Depp were, you know, okay and all. They can act, a little. I respect Depp as an actor, but he doesn't usually do a lot for me. He was magnetic in this. He portrayed a slick, self conscious charm that one would imagine an idolized outlaw to have, but it never veered into cartoonish territory. Dillinger was winking at his audience, but Depp wasn't winking at us.

So, realistic combat/gunplay, fantastic score, and amazing actors. What does this all add up to? I had to wait for the credits to find out and it was total facepalm: a Michael Mann movie. Of course! How could I have not known that? Mann is solid director, who occasionally hits one out of the park. Even if a work isn't his best, it's still good, in my experience. If you are not familiar with Mann, here are a few of his notables:

--The Last of the Mohicans: Perhaps the best living actor, Daniel Day Lewis, running around to an amazing score, and some serious carnage in limited doses. The lush scenery, charisma of Day Lewis, and incredible music help to weak dialogue and character development. There's a lot there, but it comes through because of the actor's amazing jobs, not because the dialogue allowed them to express much. I just got chills thinking of the scene where the younger sister rejects her ultimate fate with Magua. Also, my roomie at work called me Magua till the day he retired. Hope he's enjoying those smallpox ridden blankets I gave  him as a going away present.

--The Insider: Before he got trapped in having to be the sole focus and hero of each movie (damn ye, Ridley Scott and Opie!), Russell Crowe was acting his keister off in a wide variety of films. This is one he should have gotten an Oscar for, but they screwed up and then decided to give it to him for Gladiator the next year. The Academy is so revisionist history. Good story, good acting, and in a movie with not necessarily a lot of potential visual interest, Mann still throws in some great shots. There's one of Pacino standing in the ocean, on a cell phone, that has a simply gorgeous color palette. It's like a painting.

--Heat: Wicked incredible gun fights. A few actors of whom you might have heard: DeNiro and Pacino. Val Kilmer shows up and makes you want a side movie all about whatever is going on with him. Just a solid, engaging film filled with characters who have whole lives that are only hinted at.


He does others that I haven't seen, and did a quite a bit of television before moving on to feature film. In conclusion, Public Enemies is worth checking out. Sometimes Mann screenplays or dialogue can be a little anemic, but he knows how to work with his talent to pull out fantastic performances--performances that are all the more notable for their lack of flashy, Oscar-baityness. I'm going to rewatch Enemies. I wonder why I didn't hear more press on this one.

It's 5:18 now and completely dark in my apartment. I really need to get some floor lamps. I feel like I'm going blind in here.

Closing with When We are One, by Gabriel Mann. I definitely got some beautiful downer tunes.

Autopsies are the new Lighthouses

Misconstruing economic facts makes for fun headlines.

I'm sitting here as my first week here draws to a close. I got here last Friday, and here I sit, in an actual chair with an actual couch behind me, typing away. It seems a much longer time than just a week, and that's probably because the trip itself took a couple of days. But still, it seems I've been gone so much longer than that.

At the same time, I'm struggling with what to do for holiday plans. We actually get some time off from work, paid vacation (!), and it would seem foolish not to take advantage of it. The cost of planning travel this late in the game is prohibitive, and I feel almost silly for coming back so soon after leaving. For though I feel its been a great long while, I know its only been a matter of days.

Even so, I already feel like I don't have a place to go back to. This isn't entirely accurate--I actually have a bedroom waiting for me. I'd have no car. My family in P.C. isn't really celebrating the holidays b/c they are in the middle of a move. There's folks I should visit in N.C., but the additional travel time makes the matter a little tricky---they do a big deal on the 26th. Square in the middle of everyone else's schedules. Not very copacetic with a my schedule and a trip to P.C.

Furthermore, couldn't I get a lot done if I stayed here? How often have a longed for time to just sit in my house and have a staycation? I certainly could stand some daylight hours to try and accomplish things both in my apartment and around town.

Maybe I've just used up all my decision making abilities for 2010, and I just can't figure anymore logistics. To be sure, the thought of more travel, more inconvenience, and more feelings of displacement aren't appealing.

Neither is the idea of showing up somewhere and being at loose ends. I've some experience in revisiting old places, and it can be painful to realize how un-integral you are in people's lives.

I always get blue over the winter holidays. Guess this year is no exception.

An Arizona sunset from my trip out:

I have the extreme urge to eat all the food in my house. It's a psychological thing: I haven't had a solid food supply for weeks now, and mah belleh wants to make up for it. Though I'm already 10 lbs heavier than I was 30 days ago (from....air?).

No matter what my mental state, rest assured that I always find ways to amuse myself. The below bit of tomfoolery delights me to no end:

Heh. That's staying.

Rewatched "From Hell" in bits and pieces the last few nights. Any thoughts on this graphic novel adaptation, sportsfans?

Baby steps, baby steps

The key to happiness and self fulfillment in life is having low expectations. This doesn't, mean you cannot have dreams. My friend and I discussed this during a brief fling with the idea of movie making. No movies were ever made, but I think LEHA still holds true: low expectations, high aspirations.

Its that kind of mindset that allows me to be inordinately pleased with the fact that I managed to finally go grocery shopping today. You would have thought I was a spinal injury victim walking for the first time. Im pretty certain that I come across as driving for the first time in this town. However, the folks here are noted for utter assholery on the roads. So perhaps my ineptness will be mistaken for SoCal insouciance.

I have also purchased a couch-bed from the megalopolis that is IKEA. It's far larger than I imagined. But I keep failing to realize just how small my new living quarters are. While gazing upon it tonight (because honestly, there isn't much one can see but it), I was struck by what it reminded me of. . .

And so I give you the Black Hearse. Quite comfy, if a little dour and formidabble.

I continue to wrestle with mai teknolojeez, and my boss sort of insisted that I go on a Mac at work, to boot. I had just gotten mostly accustomed to working in Office 2007. Now I have to learn a whole new O/S. I don't want to hear about how great it is from all the Mac heads. Believe me, I hear it ALL already. The simple fact is, if I may quote Mr. Bale, it's fucking distracting to try and figure out where your seventeenth tab has gone to as you fumble around with a program that you actually know how to use. In further Bale-speak, it makes me look like an amateur. Which I certainly am in many regards, but I actually really do know how to sort columns in Excel. As long as I can find the damn sort button.

The DVR is interesting, as is digital cable. Though why I can see channels I'm not signed up for is beyond me. I mean, I could understand the value of tickling your interest with one or two, but do I really need to have 15 blocked channels show up IN A ROW? That's just being mean on purpose.

Upswing: can now DVR my beloved CraigyFerg. Did anybody catch last night's show? The man says it himself, they just. don't. care. Well, CBS cares. But nobody on the Late Late Show does. And it is Glorious.

I am glad he is happily married. It helps to mitigate the SSU (Severe Stalking Urge) he induces in me.

Okay, that's all for now Interwebz. Seacrest out.

Days on the Job: 1. Accomplishments: 0.

Well, it's hard to get work done when you have no telephone, no computer, and no one who needs you do anything.

Apparently, they forgot to put in a work ticket for my workspace. Which wouldn't be such a big deal, but all the IT support and hardware comes from Canada.

Whoops.

So, with everybody busy doing their own thing, I filled out some paperwork that I had neglected. Nice that my procrastination paid off. I didn't talk to many folks, but there was a familiar face there:

(pssst. . . he eats power lines for food)

My titular boss took me out for lunch. This was the view. I don't like to reveal a lot of personally identifiable information in my posts, but there is a *slight* geographic hint in this pic to my current location:

(I love you, Spartacus.)

I actually left work early to go to my trying-to-be-new bank. The whole internet application for this account is FUBARed, and I had been advised to seek FACETIME. Unfortunately, even though Kevin was super nice, we still couldn't get it resolved. Hopefully a fax or two tomorrow will sort it out.

If not, I'm going to the Dark Side: Chase Manhattan. You know, in my free time.

I have heard lots of talk about how people around here aren't friendly, but everybody has been real nice to me. Maybe it's because I've only interacted with known associates to date. (Target did have a scary vibe, but that just could have been the Sunday Shopping Crazies).

My Gunkle Blip and his Special Lady Friend brought by a housewarming gift of the best kind:

Delicious! I love the smell of fresh roses in the morning. Smells like napalm. So see? People can be real friendly.


OR MAYBE they is all just being nice to me so they can get inside my apartment and case the joint.


Okay, so tomorrow my other boss will be in, I should have a computer, and life should begin. Have I mentioned that its now come up a few times that my Other Boss (OB) can be a bit of a handful, has some social skill problems, and has pissed off many of the folks in the office royally?


This was not explicitly laid out in my job description, but its seeming more and more like I've been flown in to be OB's guiding light or something. What the hell? Am I like the Boss Whisperer or something? I should call shenanigans, but I think it's a little too late in the game for that.


OB himself, during my interview, mentioned that he sometimes needed a reality check and liked honesty. And today the resident Office Queen, who seems very nice, said that sometimes you just have to "put him in his place."


Hrm. I know some of you may not believe this, but I'm not actually comfortable with telling people to shove it and getting all confrontational. Especially not when they sign my paychecks and we haven't even been on a date yet.


Oh well, the die is cast. Let me close with a fun fact for any of my former workmates out there. When I asked about time collection, how to charge my time, etc, the HR lady gave me this look and was all "Oh, we don't do that here."


But surely, I persisted, you signed off on something, entered a log, something? Indicated  hours to overhead? What if I worked four days at 10 hours and wanted to take a Friday off?


She looked me square in the eye and said, "That's between you and your boss. As far as I know, you work 40 hours every week and that's it."


Wha-Wha-WHAAAAAT??? They just cut you a check? No project numbers. No timesheets. Nothing.


Crazy.

So Much to Do, So Little....

Time? Desire? Energy?

D. All of the above.

The inside of my head feels like a pinball machine, and I think I've been at full tilt for about six weeks now. There are the immediate practical things I have to do: putting utilities in my name, sorting out my paperwork for my new job, banking issues.

There are the less immediate practical things I have to do: unpack, buy food, sort out my computer issues (of which there are many, naturally), send thank you cards, get GODDAMN MAP OF LOS ANGELES. (That last one is because despite the fact that it saved my life in several major cities and got me home last night in one piece, I strongly suspect my Garmin GPS might be plotting to kill me. It tried to get me to go on the 495 today to cover less than 2 miles. This is obviously either a glitch, or the workings of a HAL-level homicidal machine. It will lull me into a false sense of security, then, BAM--I'll find myself on I-10 or the 405 at rush hour and DIE. I could be wrong, but I'm keeping my eye on that thing.)

There are the immediate and not so important impractical things that I want to do: sleep, hide, check out my new cable/DVR thingy, hook up my DVD, watch a movie, write some posts about all the weird feelings I'm having, make a bunch of OCD lists of stuff to do, research the things on that list.

I freely admit that the categorizations of the things I've listed don't necessarily make sense. My trip to Target today is a prime example.

Thanks to my wonderful friends, I had a Target gift card. So today, with my Uncle due to visit at 2 pm (no word on that so far), I decided I HAD to go to Target for food and cleaning supplies and maybe some other stuff, including a chair for my uncle to sit on when he came over.

Well, three hours and an almost-disaster with the 405 on-ramp, I returned home. I have no food, but I got that chair dammit. And cleaning supplies. Which I'm not really sure why I felt so compelled to buy, but buy them I did. Special ones, for granite and stainless steel.

This type of behavior, combined with unpacking, has led me to believe I may be insane. Or just have no sense at all.  Unpacking has been an interesting exercise, allowing me to do a post mortem on what must have been going through my head while preparing for this trip.

"Oh, look, I packed my Guess silver pumps, but not my exercise shoes. Well, I can see myself doing that."

"Okay, did I really need to bring all this makeup? I don't even wear that much makeup. Well, maybe it will come in handy."

"Alright, who's the wise ass who decided to wrap all this stuff in my sewing scraps instead of my clothing? This adds up to an entire box of remnants. Oh well, I *can* use this fabric to create screens on these shelves. Guess this was handy after all."

"A frying pan. With a lid. And no saucepan. I don't even think my entire silverware set is here. Did I seriously not pack any drinking glasses? I know I set one aside....."

"Armadillo. Candle holders. Glass frog. I have a lot of Asian themed knick knacks. How'd that happen? Who packed this little Buddha? WHAT HAVE I DONE WITH THE LIMITED SPACE I HAD???? WHAT WAS I THINKING???"

"Wait a minute, NO BOXCUTTERS???? I quit."

To summarize this tangent, let me say that my Target shopping experience was so overwhelming that I didn't even stop to look at the makeup. At all. Not even the sale stuff.

The mind boggles. My uncle better come by and sit his ass down on this chair I just got done putting together. I'm just saying.

But all is not futility, I have accomplished some things. To wit, my first piece of decorating, actually done my first day here:

Self indulgent whiny long post--feel free to skip.

Written while I was off the grid. Literally just got back on and testing. Posting to embarass myself into hopefully not posting crap like this in the future. Is anybody even reading this thing?

Friday, December 03, 2010

5:13 PM

My silly computer still thinks we are on central time. That’s okay. I imagine I’ll be thinking that way for a while to come.

I’m sitting here in a pile of blankets, computer on the floor. Other than my inflatable air mattress, I literally have no furniture. Scratch that—I have a quilt rack I can assemble. I think I need to buy a bean bag chair soon. There’s nothing to be done for it, though. I don’t think we could have fit a single piece of mine into my tiny car.

As it is, it was packed tight as a drum and all the electronics appear to be functioning. Thanks to my family for that.

This entire affair, from the interview date to my leaving town for my new job took place over approximately 30 days, give or take a few. A month seemed reasonable at the time. And fortunately for me I ended up having lots of leeway (like being able to leave ¾ of my crap with my bro in our apartment).

But one month really isn’t much time at all for a move of this measure, in both the figurative and literal sense. People have been asking me how I feel, if I’ve been getting excited, et cetera. And my stock response has been, “I don’t feel anything but stressed. I’m too busy to feel anything.”

I wasn’t kidding. I had one “oh shit” moment late on Tuesday night, the night before I left. It was fleeting, but I’m sure a harbinger of things to come.

Now after three days of hard driving and 1/8 of today spent unloading my car and puttering around the house, I’m finally starting to feel some things. There is SO much to do, I should be doing it right now. My mind is still darting around like a hummingbird on meth. And I funnily enough, I currently don’t dread any of the massive amounts of unpacking and organizing I have to do. It’s purposeful work, with measurable goals, and I’m glad of it.

And as I sit here not doing it, I’m trying to convince myself that this is part of my new life. That I’m not going to rush around anxiously agitated. That I will take things in stride. I don’t really believe this, but I want it to be true. So maybe I can make it true.

But I highly suspect I’m also putting it off so that when some of these feelings get a little stronger, I will have some distraction.

So many people have said I’m brave for making this move. But I’m not. I had a job lined up, I know three people in this town, one of whom I’ll be working for/with—that’s called “having it all lined up.”

I’ve answered lots of questions about the reason for my move across the country. I’ve volunteered lots of things that were true and relevant. But this was a deeply personal decision that has aspects I’m not even willing to discuss---I figure that’s true for most people and their thoughts. Maybe I could put a pin on it by saying that this could be categorized as maybe my greatest decisive non-decision. That is, this decision sort of made itself. Or, to put it another way, there didn’t seem to be much to decide about. It’s hard to put into words, so we’ll leave it alone.

That doesn’t mean that I’m not going to feel the consequences. Even good things can have less than desirable effects. That might be the reason people cry at weddings—human nature recognizes the loss in alteration, no matter how good the alteration may be.

And if you could see inside my heart right now, you’d know just how not brave I am. A life lived in fear is a life half lived, it has been said, and I believe this to be true. But I suppose if I had to summarize the heart of all the unpleasant, shifting thoughts in my head right now it would be this:

This move, my dreams, they are the dreams of a young person. And I am not young anymore. The fearful part of my brain tells me that I’m too old for foolish wastefulness, too old to have my dreams come true, and too old to withstand the inevitable broken heart.

And maybe all that’s true. But then again, the reasons for my recent decisions were so multifaceted that perhaps even I don’t fully understand them all. And perhaps my fears are the only foolish thing here.

I have to go now. My cell phone is blowin up, yo. As it has been for days. That’s another funny thing—I’ve moved enough to know this one. For a tiny sliver of time I’ll be a topic of great interest and communication. Then, like all things absent, it will be out of sight, out of mind. I think that’s a necessary part of human nature as well—otherwise we would never get on with the present and be forever stuck in the past.

And so endeth my maudlin ramblings. Which I should probably not post and will feel very silly down the road if I do. But like the lady says: that has never stopped me before.

Where the hell am I?

I'm somewhere past Phoenix, I know that much.

Today was not the best of days. Or really, it was probably the two extra hours of night driving that did it.

LASIK eye surgery changed my life in a lot of good ways. But my eyesight will never be perfect. And tonight proved once and for all just how compromised my night vision has become.

And by compromised, I mean shitty. Dangerously so.

So now I'm holed up in a days inn that I only found bc some rando had a voice actuated gps phone thingamabobber. Which is good bc after my accidental tour of casa granda--arizona's answer to watts--I was quite out of nerve in the motel locating department.

But, you may ask, how can one NOT find a motel between tuscon and phoenix?

Pure, raw, unadulterated idiocy I suppose. I think 14 hours on the road and the aforementioned eye problem didn't help.

I'm quite literally going to try and find myself now. On a map, as it were. Then I'm hiding under these covers until six a.m.

Tomorrow I have to drive on l.a. freeways. Pray for me. And when I'm gone and you speak of me, speak well.

Today's post was brought to you by the letter Ugh.

Road tripping

This post is brought to you by my bitching new iPad and Dr. Pepper. All without which none of this would be possible, hurney.

I type this from outside San antone. I lack the necessary skillz to post any pix at this point. But then again I've just got one of a dp bottle and a blurry Houston skyscraper. Oh, that's another sponsor--I was able to navigate houston's Byzantine highway system (system used loosely here) only bc my incredible wonderful pal Schneids foresaw my dilemma and gave me a GPS.

So I listened to a lot of music today and tried real hard not to speed. And tried not to wallow in the things that I have been quite literally too busy to think about. My departure was not as I would have liked it. I did not express how I felt, or even get to see some people. And I received so many incredible gifts. I guess maybe I have always been uncomfortable accepting gifts and certain kinds of help from others. Especially in cases where I don't feel I'll be able to reciprocate. I've even felt guilty about work bonuses I've gotten.

Yes--I'm just a schlemiel.

No particular travel points of interest, but here goes:
-there really is a bayou la batre just like where bubba is from in forrest gump.
-I asked how to get back to some road, and the guy behind the counter gave me directions that would take me west, "if you're headed that way." that's when I knew I was back in my beloved Texas for sure.
-this freaking Hampton inn is nicer than my old apartment. And possibly larger than my new one.

Special shout out to my (now former?!) boss, who we will call Diddy to protect privacy and such. The iPad was his brain child. Maybe I should quit my jobs more often. Babby needs a new flatscreen.

Somehow, though, I just don't imagine my next place of employment, no matter how nice, would be able to live up to the send off I got from these guys.

Dude. A Freakin iPad.

Okay. Seacrest out.