February 27th, 7:25AM
What, already?
What a weekend. And by that, I mean it sucked. After a pretty darn good week, Attitude, unease, and lethargy took over, and I just hate that.
I can't believe it's the end of the month already. Hoo. Some stuff that happened, as a note:
- My wife lifted some weights with me yesterday. That was unusual, but welcome.
- Some guy named Doug wrote me from the Modesto area, searching out open mike comedy prospects. He found me from a Web search. I still dig it when that happens.
- I found out I cannot burn VCD's with the software I currently have. I may have a remedy, but I'm doubtful. I'm disappointed.
- I realize that I cannot force my daughter to improve or try harder; if she is determined that any given endeavor will suck, well, get ready for some suckiness.
I've got a lot of web work to do, and I am not feeling positive about it at all. I have trouble getting after it because of household circumstances, and much of it just doesn't look like much fun. Onward, I trudge.
February 24th, 6:52AM
Lots to do
Yesterday was a busy day, and today will be too. I have lots of stuff to do for lots of people, but much of it will actually do me some tangible good for a change.
I continue to work with a talented guy in Lodi, with whom the business relationship is so positive and enjoyable as to be nearly dreamlike. Ach, if half of my clients relationships were this way, I might declare this my calling.
Video Ga Ga
I continue to attend video production classes. They are nearby and useful, and free. Those traits alone make them a winner for me. I am slightly disappointed in some aspects of the class, but only slightly; in other ways, I have been pleasantly surprised.
For example, last week's class was on lighting. Basically, I learned to yearn for good coloring on skin tones, and that I should avoid unwanted shadows, but not a lot on specific methods to achieve that. I guess I expected it to be more complicated. I should be glad it wasn't.
This week we must write a simple script. I have the hard part done - I have an idea. Beyond that, I must now take a stab at writing the thing.
Overall, I am pleasantly surprised at the group who is taking the class with me. All are pleasant, and I don't find any of them annoying enough to secretly wish them dead - highly unusual for me in a crowd of over ten people. Highly unusual.
February 20th, 6:52AM
Ass-kicking contest
or
If I won, why am I the only one bleeding?
My daughter gets this gleam in her eye sometimes, a cross between "competitive nature" and "assault with intent." When I recognize this peculiar condition, I have learned to watch my back. I saw just such storm clouds forming yesterday afternoon, during a visit from my Dad. Sure enough, the moment came when I turned my back, and she kicked me.
Now, and it doesn't shame me to say it, I'm not mature enough to let it go. I kicked her back, and on it went, until at one graceless moment, I'm chasing her down the street, trying desperately to land one solid foot on her ass. That's when it happened: I connected, however flimsily, and it was my undoing. The delicate dance that is me running flat-out was upset, and I tumbled over, catching myself with my palms on the asphalt. I came up with a case of road rash on my right palm that any sixth grade boy would be proud of.
I guess I won; I've got the scabs to prove it.
February 19th, 8:40AM
BNI news
My BNI chapter had to boot a colorful member this week, which presented the opportunity for drama. That's all I'll say, but it made for an eventful moment or two.
My kids rock
My daughter is on the Honor Roll, with a GPA somewhere above 3.5. She still has her academic struggles, but succeeds. She has spent all of yesterday and will spend all of today with Michelle at some horse-training thingie in a nearby town.
My son fell from a height greater than his own a few days ago, smack onto his face. He scared himself and his mother, bled from the nose, and they shared some tears. Luckily, he did not break his nose or his teeth, and is just fine. I've been watching him for days on end, during the above-mentioned horse-training thingie, and both of us are surviving, and often enjoying, the experience.
Sewing machine
My wife procured a sewing machine recently, and has gained proficiency with it. She has hemmed baby clothes (as my son shares my troll-like elongated torso and stubby legs), and has mended horse blankets. I have long kept a desire to produce my own Halloween costumery, and hope that my wife will someday teach me to use the machine, so that I may create ghastly holiday finery.
February 19th, 7:45AM
Been a long time
Holy carp, it's been a long time since I've blogged. A more introspective person would wonder whether keeping this blog and keeping it current is worth the trouble. Screw introspection, it hasn't brought me anything but self-compounding grief lately. One can only suffer so much self-examination; one must then look outward again, no? Yes? Hm?
Joe Crawford - brother in soul-searching
The above paragraph could well have been written by me, word for excruciating word. But it wasn't; Joe has spent the last few weeks struggling and expressing his management thereof via his blog. For you non-bloggers, I'll tell you, it ain't easy. Good on 'im, as the Australians say. May his work carry him someplace good, rewarding and peaceful.
I miss me
Looking back over my blog, I miss the quirky, funny, maniacal posts I used to write, back when it wasn't all angst and woe-is-me. The Punisher movie review; the post describing how I told my Uncle, in the middle of verbal one-upmanship, that if I was queer I'd bone him (I still laugh when I remember his enduringly stunned expression - he doesn't stun easily); these posts were odd and fun to write.
I have a supposition that the yoke of regular employment has an effect on me like a mill has on grain - the pressure grinds out a humor, a reaction that produces a necessary product. When in that position of servitude, I had to point out the silliness and inconsistencies in the thought processes and behavior of others.
And in myself as well. Anyone who knows me know I am the first and biggest target of my own sarcasm and scathing criticism. So if you've ever felt picked on by me... well you probably were, but you were never alone. That Tom Bickle can be an asshole, but he's fair.
Now that I'm on my own, the environment yields far fewer targets for the ripping, and although you'll never hear me say I miss my former supervisor, the rich opportunities for laughter are hard to replace.
And so I admit, I miss the bald-faced, Dilbert-like world where sense doesn't make sense, and convention is turned on its head but thereafter treated as if it were the pinnacle of logic.
I miss feeling, and being, clever.
Where has all the humor gone
I miss stand-up comedy and open mikes. I realize that when a friend writes about being self-conscious in front of a crowd; I realize it when I watch stand-up on TV; I realize it when I watch the DVD: "Jerry Seinfeld Comedian." I only tried it a few times, but it was something - something very different. Open-mike comedy is effective for resolving stage fright in the same manner that radiation poisoning is effective for hair removal.
Smell that? Mmmm, fishy
In case you've forgotten how perverted I am, I must confess a forbidden trigger for arousal - there's a television commercial running lately for the ice-skating version of the Disney animated feature, Little Nemo. Dozens of women, skating around in brightly colored tights, with huge, bulbous, perfectly-round, highly-contrasted white eyeballs on their breasts, and large, gaping, smiling fish-mouths on their pelvises (pelvi?), gliding happily about. It doesn't even occur to me to see fish; just some dirty, 3-D Rorschach test, where the life-sized ink blots tempt and tease me alone. Ohh, it's enough to spawn ("Spawn," get it? I'm funny) a whole new fetish.
February 14th, 2:38PM
The ebb
Hoo, it's a good thing I am learning to ease some pressure off. Little lacerations in my life have been threatening death by a thousand cuts. Some of the stabs and jabs, for example:
- I can't find my car keys. I had them the other morning, and now... they've vanished. I have a backup set, but losing things disturbs me disproportionately, and the keys to my car and house are no small matter.
- The SRS light in my car is on, indicating a problem with my car's airbag system. I suspect that the auto body shop that worked on my car may have jostled something loose. Will they be willing to stand behind it, if they did? Or will they shine me on, since it's about a month later? Ah, the suspense. I hate suspense, too.
These little annoyances wear on me, and are unwelcome.
The flow
But, things are looking up, if only a bit. I got a call from a client who is ready to go ahead with a web project, which is relieving news. That will be a help.
Also, I lined up a referral for George, of George's Carpet One, in Lodi. BNI espouses "Givers Gain." But if you're a lazy, antisocial jerk like me, referrals just don't flow just by casual happenstance. With all the circles I move in lately, I have surprisingly few social interactions in which I can recommend another's product or service. In short, I feel like shit not to have contributed more to my group.
I decided I'm not trying hard enough, and so I stopped at every of the several new houses going up in my neighborhood, and asked how I can get my buddy George in on a bid. I actually generated one referral so far, which tickled me to no end, and George appreciated it, too.
Other news
Elsewhere, I have a video production class tonight, a PC Users Group meeting tomorrow night, and BNI on Thursday morning, and business in Lodi afterwards. It's this type of busy work that keeps me from drinking all day.
I also ventured into town today to chat up local businesses about websites. It hasn't paid off yet, but I'm hoping the time investment will pay off.
February 13th, 2:38PM
Happiness
I had a great day yesterday. I hiked around Lake Hogan with a buddy, and barbecued both lunch for myself, and dinner for the family. I had a stress-free day, which happens about as often as Ariel Sharon enjoys ham sandwiches. I really felt my good fortune wash over me, but I had help:
- My wife teaches me that I should let money worries go; the pressure I put upon myself doesn't do anybody any good, and money will always work itself out. I remain skeptical, but that doesn't help either. At worst, I may smile all the way to homelessness.
- Joe Silva teaches (preaches to) me that worry is a waste of energy; it makes me want to sock him in his stress-free face, but of course he makes sense. In the past I have embraced this idea successfully, back when I smoked a lot of pot, and was happier in general. Now, I realize its truth intellectually, but I have allowed worry to worm its way into my thought processes and I'm having a devil of a time living the idea. Yesterday, I moved a step or to closer to that ideal. The beer helps, but seldom.
- Paula Phipps teaches me that it's smart to love myself, to not fear growing spiritually, and to embrace the positive.
As always, there are others. God knows I need all the help I can lay my hands on.
February 11th, 9:29AM
Vino Piazza
My wife invited me to take her out to lunch at a local winery that she'd been eyeing. It's funny - she doesn't like most wines, but she really enjoys wine tasting. She's different, and I wouldn't change a thing.
We headed east towards Jackson, but we found that the place we had in mind is closed until March 4th. We considered local lunch joints in the area, but the winery/luncheon bug was with us now, and there wasn't much we could do about it but acquiesce. I remembered the "Twelve Wineries / Thai Food" sign I had seen in Lockeford, so off we went, back in the other direction.
Upon arrival, I downed several dainty measures of eight or ten wines, all reds. By the end, I was feeling a little silly and gregarious, and each taste began to blur into the previous one, rendering the tasting process less and less effective. Lucky for me, I really enjoyed the first wine I tried (among others), so I snapped up a bottle of "Olde Lockeford Winery 2004 Nebbiolo," a wine (and a grape) I've never heard of before. The counter-minder told me it's an Italian grape. Tommy like. Tommy buy.
During our samplings, we learned that they host rock music and comedy nights on alternating weekends, which thrilled me. This area is often devoid of many of the features I took for granted in Manteca, so I am abnormally enthusiastic when I flip over a rock and find a product or service that I didn't think I would find in the area. This is enough to warrant a blog entry and a link.
We also stopped at the Thai food restaurant, "Busaba Thai Cuisine" and spoke to Roger, who runs the place with his wife, who cooks and has the requisite Thai heritage. We got an introduction to some Thai cuisine, and I told Roger about John Bizarre who has often noted his affinity for Thai cuisine. Roger was surprisingly exuberant about seeing John Bizarre play the Vino Piazza Comedy Night, so maybe he'll have another venue to play in the area.
February 8th, 4:17PM
Paris notes
My brother let me know that Delta College is offering a monthlong study program in the City of Lights. For only four thousand dollars, you can stay with a French family and get lessons every day in the language. For four grand, I think I'd rather reserve my own vacation, but I'm cheap like that. Especially since Expedia can get me there and back for $414 today.
February 7th, 3:17PM
.. or are you just happy to see me?
I was at a gathering recently, and a perfectly nice young lady was eating a banana, in this fashion: she would pluck a chunk off of the banana, and pop the separated gob into her mouth, so that the main portion of the fruit never approached her face. It quickly occurred to me that she did this to avoid impaling her face with a 10-inch-long, slender white phallic symbol in front of dozens of people, many of whom were sure to be at least as "progressive-minded" as myself. Mainly, I wondered which of us were the more dirty-minded: her, for anticipating the tawdry visual she would create by consuming a banana normally; or me, for recognizing it. I prefer to think of her as the chief deviant.
February 5th, 4:27PM
Cutting back
It's been a few weeks since I cut way back on the beer, and I've made a few observations:
I sleep much better, and I feel better when I wake up. This is a fundamental and pervasive benefit.
I smell better. When I drink, it's like my insides putrify, and I take on a wino-like aura. Sexy.
It doesn't help my mood much at all, either way. I thought these highs and lows would even out, but they don't seem to. The proof is in my blog - if my mood were charted in a line graph, it would look like and electrocardiogram, climbing and dipping sharply and reliably. I'm up, I'm down, and who has the patience for this bullshit, anyway? But it would appear that drinking is somewhat unrelated or at least very indirectly related to the equilibrium of my joy and lack thereof. That surprises me quite a bit, but there it is.
I still resort to the occasional snort or two, but with much less regularity and severity. I keep coming back, and I know why. I don't feel addicted - I just get so Goddamned bored. I get all my work done, Hell, I get all my play done, and there's just nothing left to do that speaks to me, or I'm too tired to pursue it.
If I could find a better alternative to engage me, I'd likely never drink again. I know a guy who lives that way - seemingly fulfilled, passionately involved in things he enjoys - and he seems happy, healthy and largely content because of it. He's never far from a passion, a pursuit that drives him. For some reason, I just haven't found the spark that does it for me, like I'm trying to engage gears that have been stripped. I can draw, study French, work with graphics or digital video; all of it rarely gets more than a "ho-hum" from the pleasure center of my brain. That's unfortunate.
Still got it
I can't tell you how happy I am with myself that I can still summon enough brain juice to keep up with my daughter's math homework. I would feel like a real idiot if I wasn't packing the gear for 7th grade Algebra.
It helped a lot that my daughter confided in me that her mother became mathematically useless long ago; that when summoned for homework help, her eyes roll back in her head, and she admits without shame or guilt that my daughter is barking up a tree that bears no fruit whatsoever. It made me feel good in a way that I cannot adequately explain. I don't get off on being superior to anybody, and my ex-wife especially - to swagger about the intellectual contrast between us would be akin to feeling macho about poking kittens in the eye.
I would feel kind of bad about speaking ill of my ex, but metaphors in general are over her head, so as long as no one explains that last paragraph to her, no real harm will ever be done.
Anyway, I felt a flush of something between pride and gratitude that I could be of service when my daughter needed me. She's a bright kid, and math is a subject that gives both her and me trouble, but is also a subject that builds upon itself, and once you lose your grip, it's nearly impossible to simply cut to the next chapter and pick it up there.
Then again, eighth grade is not far away, and this crap isn't going to get any easier. We're only talking about simple variables and adding/subtracting/multiplying/dividing fractions at this point, not necessarily rocket surgery (or is it brain science?). Still, I am gratified that I can keep up, and keep her education on the right path.
February 2nd, 3:23PM
In good company
I forgot to mention - I began a video production class last Tuesday night in San Andreas. A great little class so far. One of the notable things I noted was the name of the professional-looking young woman who sat ahead and to the right. Her name tag read: "Keli Dailey." Ah, what a double-blunder, to both look businesslike in a room full of otherwise casual foothill residents, and to let me get hold of your first and last name. It took me until today, but I Googled her. I Googled her by image, because although her name is spelled unusually, I doubt it's unique, and I knew I would recognize her face. It turns out she is just what she said she is - a journalist/photojournalist (the conversation was brief, so I'm not sure whether she's more one or the other), and according to these Google hits, she's done some journalizin'. I'm impressed. Journalism is one of those professions that I think I would enjoy, either in another life, or were I to ever get on the right medication. But she's been to some pretty exotic locales, obviously.
You never know who you'll run into. How interesting. I can easily imagine me being a pest during the remaining ten weeks of class.
February 2nd, 11:33PM
Holy crap
I am amazed by a story on CNN.com, where many Muslims are protesting the caricature of their chosen God - in a cartoon depicting the prophet Mohammed "wearing a turban resembling a bomb," - by chanting and recommending "Death" to everybody involved. Man, this is such a classic demonstration of the difference in values between Muslims and the rest of the planet. CNN has decided not to publish a copy of this Muslim sacrilege, "in respect for Islam," and no doubt, in the hope that no one will protest, explode, or say anything bad about CNN.
What a great topic for discussions on Muslim culture, freedom of the press, Muslim society and values vs. Western values, etc.
And this article is worth a read, if for no other reason than the title: "They Can't Bomb Us All". Love it.
February 2nd, 11:24PM
Mood swing
My "look out world" declaration from earlier this week imploded, and yesterday was the mirror-image opposite. I'm over it now, but it took a respectable amount of chocolate and peanut butter to get to this point. What a waste of a day. I've never been freer, and rarely felt so oppressed. I am a fool for not realizing how sweet I've got it right now.
Onward.