There has been a thought on my mind this evening, and I just wanted to share it with everyone. It's by no means original, but at the same time it makes me smile. Maybe it will make you smile too...
Why is it that women can show a bunch of cleavage, but it is socially unacceptable for the gentlemen to show a little neck?
Just think about it.
-A.R. Leith
Wednesday, October 04, 2006
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
Mammas, don't let your babies grow up to be lifties.
I just wanted to touch on the two thoughts that were really running through my head this morning on the way to work. First, has any one of you read much of J.D. Salinger. I am in the midst of finishing up his story "Seymour, an Introduction" and could not be happier that--through all my procrastination and distraction by shiny objects--I have finally gotten around to this gem. Now, when I say "gem" I am not referring to it as one of those blockbuster, turn your life around, stories. Rather, it is exactly the kind of rambling, go nowhere, story that I can someday see myself actually writing.
Ostensibly, this is the opening chapter to a man's story about his deceased brother. However, in the offing there are so many tangents and digressions that the author is able to cover a great deal of literary ground. It is a story about family, brothers, child-stardom, intelligence, and a great many other things. Beyond that it is the scattered nature of the writing that makes it so endearing to me. If you are at all interested in reading books of any sort, I would highly recommend this one.
Also, this morning, I got stuck in the variety of construction traffic where there is person at the beginning of the work area with a sign on a stick. This is not at all a completely surprising occurrence. When one lives in a semi-rural community where two lane highways are the norm one gets used to such things. Actually being stuck was not the problem for me today. The problem centered around what to do with your eyes when you are the first car in line. As I was passing the people stopped and waiting to head in the other direction I noticed that the lead vehicle in the line was occupied by a gentleman reading a newspaper. I thought this to be an ingenious and convenient solution to staring at the flagger with the sign--which is where my eyes are invariably drawn. Honestly, you can only half-smile so many times at a person who is destined to solitude while spinning their little sign all day. After a while you just want to settle into that solid far-off stare that lets the time simply drift away when you are in such a situation. But that is just not possible when you are confronted by the eyes of the person in whose hands the rest of your day squarely rests. Who is to argue if they just never turn their sign around? What's to stop you from having to sit there all day? It's a thin line between fake-nice-through-the-windshield and sitting in your idling car for hours on end.
A secondary thought comes to me, as I type. What is up with the over-exagerated arm gestures these people give you once they do let you go? They wave their arm out and around themselves in an broad arc and point you to the lane you are supposed to be in. Is this for the people who, after having shut down their brains for the wait, might have forgotten that you are not supposed to drive over the person in the bright orange vest? Or, perhaps, it is for the individual who upon getting the little orange "slow" sign after having stared at the "stop" side for too long will floor it into the line of oncoming traffic waiting their turn. I don't know, maybe they are just worried about their cones. People could steal the cones! I would never do such a thing. You're going to have to trust me on that, because I have lost the keys to the trunk of my car.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "The world needs ditch-diggers too, Danny." -Judge Smails
Ostensibly, this is the opening chapter to a man's story about his deceased brother. However, in the offing there are so many tangents and digressions that the author is able to cover a great deal of literary ground. It is a story about family, brothers, child-stardom, intelligence, and a great many other things. Beyond that it is the scattered nature of the writing that makes it so endearing to me. If you are at all interested in reading books of any sort, I would highly recommend this one.
Also, this morning, I got stuck in the variety of construction traffic where there is person at the beginning of the work area with a sign on a stick. This is not at all a completely surprising occurrence. When one lives in a semi-rural community where two lane highways are the norm one gets used to such things. Actually being stuck was not the problem for me today. The problem centered around what to do with your eyes when you are the first car in line. As I was passing the people stopped and waiting to head in the other direction I noticed that the lead vehicle in the line was occupied by a gentleman reading a newspaper. I thought this to be an ingenious and convenient solution to staring at the flagger with the sign--which is where my eyes are invariably drawn. Honestly, you can only half-smile so many times at a person who is destined to solitude while spinning their little sign all day. After a while you just want to settle into that solid far-off stare that lets the time simply drift away when you are in such a situation. But that is just not possible when you are confronted by the eyes of the person in whose hands the rest of your day squarely rests. Who is to argue if they just never turn their sign around? What's to stop you from having to sit there all day? It's a thin line between fake-nice-through-the-windshield and sitting in your idling car for hours on end.
A secondary thought comes to me, as I type. What is up with the over-exagerated arm gestures these people give you once they do let you go? They wave their arm out and around themselves in an broad arc and point you to the lane you are supposed to be in. Is this for the people who, after having shut down their brains for the wait, might have forgotten that you are not supposed to drive over the person in the bright orange vest? Or, perhaps, it is for the individual who upon getting the little orange "slow" sign after having stared at the "stop" side for too long will floor it into the line of oncoming traffic waiting their turn. I don't know, maybe they are just worried about their cones. People could steal the cones! I would never do such a thing. You're going to have to trust me on that, because I have lost the keys to the trunk of my car.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "The world needs ditch-diggers too, Danny." -Judge Smails
Thursday, September 21, 2006
Whelp, it's finally here.
Upon arriving to work today I was pleasantly surprised to find about three inches of fresh snow on the stairs leading up to my office. There is something about the light of morning when there is snow on the ground that is of a different quality than your average sunny day. The whole day has a sense of freshness about it and, even without looking out a window, you can tell that everything is a little bit more like winter somehow. It is one of my most favorite feelings at one of the best times of the year. Okay, I just wanted to share that little bit of info with everyone, wish you all a happy upcoming winter, and get my day started off right. I am sorry for waxing poetic, or nostalgic, or waxing at all really. I don't much like to get all waxy, but sometimes it happens. I hope to see everyone who is able on the pub crawl tomorrow night. Cheers.
-A.R. Leith
-A.R. Leith
Saturday, September 02, 2006
What are you eating under there?
If you said “under where?” then, HA HA! If not, why not?
Okay, I am going to jump right into this one, because it is going to be a doozy. There have been some things floating around of late (And by ‘of late’ I mean ‘for the last several years’.) where people are continually sounding off on what they believe in, or don’t believe in, or don’t believe that other people should believe in. Anyway I would like to address some of these issues today, because, frankly, I read a post on this ‘mispace’—that’s the Spanish language version of myspace—that made me physically uncomfortable and sick to my stomach. It wasn’t that it was gross or in particularly poor taste, so much as it was mean and ignorant. And I know everyone out there knows what I am talking about when I say that I am the sensitive type who is easily upset.
Anyway, this post brought to my attention that there was a group on myspace that, well, it is called “Fuck the Troops” which unless it is meant in the strictest sense of raising morale by fornicating with those in uniform is probably in pretty bad taste. Personally, I am not against the troops as people. I definitely do not agree with some/many of the things that they do, but to each his own. After all, this is America, we can do whatever we want.
The post I received was a petition to have the group kicked out of the myspace community. Sort of a NIMBY for the internet. Now, I am all for speaking out against something if you don’t believe in it (especially since that is what I am about to do when I’m done rambling here) but there are tactful ways to go about it. The petition in question is, at times, tactful and touching while at other times it is gut wrenchingly blind and hateful. There are, the simple statements of, “I know/love/am family with someone in the military and wish them the best.” which are wonderful sentiments and cannot be argued against. Those make me feel nice. The signatures—and their attached notes—that I feel I must discuss in more detail are far less sentimental and more directly offensive. My plan is to run through some of the sillier ones and talk about what they made me feel. (Anyone afraid of talking about feelings should look away now…this means you br@nt.)
I would also like to mention that, before embarking on this little rant, I tried to find the offending “fuck the troops” group on myspace and was unsuccessful, which leads me to believe that it actually has already been removed, or that many of the people who signed the petition were simply reacting to what they were told, rather than the group itself.
(Because this whole thing is a little long—not to mention high and mighty—I am going to break it down into a few sections. This should give you a chance to stretch, rub your eyes, decide that you don’t want to read any further, or get a nice snack. Like some Chicken ‘n a Biscuit, or a Yoohoo. But I do hope you keep reading…)
Okay, I am going to jump right into this one, because it is going to be a doozy. There have been some things floating around of late (And by ‘of late’ I mean ‘for the last several years’.) where people are continually sounding off on what they believe in, or don’t believe in, or don’t believe that other people should believe in. Anyway I would like to address some of these issues today, because, frankly, I read a post on this ‘mispace’—that’s the Spanish language version of myspace—that made me physically uncomfortable and sick to my stomach. It wasn’t that it was gross or in particularly poor taste, so much as it was mean and ignorant. And I know everyone out there knows what I am talking about when I say that I am the sensitive type who is easily upset.
Anyway, this post brought to my attention that there was a group on myspace that, well, it is called “Fuck the Troops” which unless it is meant in the strictest sense of raising morale by fornicating with those in uniform is probably in pretty bad taste. Personally, I am not against the troops as people. I definitely do not agree with some/many of the things that they do, but to each his own. After all, this is America, we can do whatever we want.
The post I received was a petition to have the group kicked out of the myspace community. Sort of a NIMBY for the internet. Now, I am all for speaking out against something if you don’t believe in it (especially since that is what I am about to do when I’m done rambling here) but there are tactful ways to go about it. The petition in question is, at times, tactful and touching while at other times it is gut wrenchingly blind and hateful. There are, the simple statements of, “I know/love/am family with someone in the military and wish them the best.” which are wonderful sentiments and cannot be argued against. Those make me feel nice. The signatures—and their attached notes—that I feel I must discuss in more detail are far less sentimental and more directly offensive. My plan is to run through some of the sillier ones and talk about what they made me feel. (Anyone afraid of talking about feelings should look away now…this means you br@nt.)
I would also like to mention that, before embarking on this little rant, I tried to find the offending “fuck the troops” group on myspace and was unsuccessful, which leads me to believe that it actually has already been removed, or that many of the people who signed the petition were simply reacting to what they were told, rather than the group itself.
(Because this whole thing is a little long—not to mention high and mighty—I am going to break it down into a few sections. This should give you a chance to stretch, rub your eyes, decide that you don’t want to read any further, or get a nice snack. Like some Chicken ‘n a Biscuit, or a Yoohoo. But I do hope you keep reading…)
The Doozy (Pt. 2)
The first entry to be covered came at #37 on the petition from a Patrick Madrid, who wrote,
“(empty space is for anyone brave enough to sit inside a fox whole for two days and still have the nerve to talk some shit. our soldiers is the last thing sane we have left of our political bullshit gov. it's not our soldiers we should be mad at. it's the fuckin millionaires we vote in to run our government. we as soldiers just do our jobs. protecting some tree huggin pussy who'd much rather cry than to stand up for himself. if they still fill the same afterwards they can move to Bagdad and i'll pay for the flight--- fuckin cowards)”
Spelling errors aside, there are some problems with this statement. In my opinion one need not be “tree hugging” to be against military action in a foreign land. You may love trees and all, but they are two different animals. I also wonder if he would actually pay for my flight over there—if you could get one—should I be able to contact him. However, the biggest problem I see in his argument is that he seeks to separate the soldiers from the “fucking millionaires we vote in to run our government.” But to me it is all the same boat. They all work for the government…the only difference being that I don’t get to vote on who is in the military.
Jumping down the list to number 102 there comes another question in my mind. (I also can’t help but notice the open hostility in many of the notes attached to this petition. I’m not psychologist, but I have to think that there is some link between this and the type of person that joins/completely backs the military. But one must keep in mind that they have been affronted by a group that is themselves being offensive and aggressive.) So anyway, Dillon, at 102 writes,
“These people need to be eliminated, the men and women of our armed forces are the only reason why there is myspace right now!!! If it wasnt for our soldiers keeping us safe god only knows where we would be!!!”
I just feel that it bears mentioning that our soldiers haven’t really been keeping us all that safe of late. Going overseas and basically staging a coup on a foreign government that doesn’t seem to have had the inclination or capability to pose an actual threat to us I suppose keeps us kind of safe. Either that or it just enrages an entire region of the world at our intrusion. The last time that our government/military actually needed to keep us safe was almost five years ago, and the only heroes that came out of that were those that were brave after the fact, those that limited the loss of life as best they could, and we should thank them for their efforts. The military, however, did very little to protect the people from that attack. The last time that our troops actually kept us safe from an outside attack was before the second world war. Our troops, regardless of who’s orders it was on, have long since been too busy in the political game to be at home when needed, which is not a happy or comforting thought.
Within the petition there are glimmers of hope, like 119,
“Stephanie Curry ~ sister of an airman ~ don't hate the troops.. hate the president who sent them where they do not belong.. some military personel joined for reasons other than wanting to defend our country from terrorist we armed!”
It is [I hope] a well known fact that military recruiters target young and under-privliged people, with the promise of funds or a way out of their current situation. In fact, most of the people that I know who joined up did so because they needed money, or wanted to have their college paid for. However, there is a certain expectation and culpability that come with signing up for the military.
One noticeable thing amid all the name-calling and finger-pointing is the idea that somehow the troops currently fighting in the Middle East and elsewhere are protecting more than our country’s financial interests. There is a lot of, “God Bless all the men and women who are fighting to keep our country safe.”, “God bless all of you who are willing to put your lives on the line for our country.”, and so on, that give me the distinct impression that people think that our country is in actual danger—possibly a danger that is not the result of out involvement in foreign lands.
“(empty space is for anyone brave enough to sit inside a fox whole for two days and still have the nerve to talk some shit. our soldiers is the last thing sane we have left of our political bullshit gov. it's not our soldiers we should be mad at. it's the fuckin millionaires we vote in to run our government. we as soldiers just do our jobs. protecting some tree huggin pussy who'd much rather cry than to stand up for himself. if they still fill the same afterwards they can move to Bagdad and i'll pay for the flight--- fuckin cowards)”
Spelling errors aside, there are some problems with this statement. In my opinion one need not be “tree hugging” to be against military action in a foreign land. You may love trees and all, but they are two different animals. I also wonder if he would actually pay for my flight over there—if you could get one—should I be able to contact him. However, the biggest problem I see in his argument is that he seeks to separate the soldiers from the “fucking millionaires we vote in to run our government.” But to me it is all the same boat. They all work for the government…the only difference being that I don’t get to vote on who is in the military.
Jumping down the list to number 102 there comes another question in my mind. (I also can’t help but notice the open hostility in many of the notes attached to this petition. I’m not psychologist, but I have to think that there is some link between this and the type of person that joins/completely backs the military. But one must keep in mind that they have been affronted by a group that is themselves being offensive and aggressive.) So anyway, Dillon, at 102 writes,
“These people need to be eliminated, the men and women of our armed forces are the only reason why there is myspace right now!!! If it wasnt for our soldiers keeping us safe god only knows where we would be!!!”
I just feel that it bears mentioning that our soldiers haven’t really been keeping us all that safe of late. Going overseas and basically staging a coup on a foreign government that doesn’t seem to have had the inclination or capability to pose an actual threat to us I suppose keeps us kind of safe. Either that or it just enrages an entire region of the world at our intrusion. The last time that our government/military actually needed to keep us safe was almost five years ago, and the only heroes that came out of that were those that were brave after the fact, those that limited the loss of life as best they could, and we should thank them for their efforts. The military, however, did very little to protect the people from that attack. The last time that our troops actually kept us safe from an outside attack was before the second world war. Our troops, regardless of who’s orders it was on, have long since been too busy in the political game to be at home when needed, which is not a happy or comforting thought.
Within the petition there are glimmers of hope, like 119,
“Stephanie Curry ~ sister of an airman ~ don't hate the troops.. hate the president who sent them where they do not belong.. some military personel joined for reasons other than wanting to defend our country from terrorist we armed!”
It is [I hope] a well known fact that military recruiters target young and under-privliged people, with the promise of funds or a way out of their current situation. In fact, most of the people that I know who joined up did so because they needed money, or wanted to have their college paid for. However, there is a certain expectation and culpability that come with signing up for the military.
One noticeable thing amid all the name-calling and finger-pointing is the idea that somehow the troops currently fighting in the Middle East and elsewhere are protecting more than our country’s financial interests. There is a lot of, “God Bless all the men and women who are fighting to keep our country safe.”, “God bless all of you who are willing to put your lives on the line for our country.”, and so on, that give me the distinct impression that people think that our country is in actual danger—possibly a danger that is not the result of out involvement in foreign lands.
The Doozy (Pt. 3)
At long last, at number 309 someone has put forth the most confounding argument that also seems to be an underpinning of why this petition exists at all. And argument so insulting to the intelligence of readers that it hurts a little just to think about it. Zach Sepulveda wrote,
“they really should be removed since the only reason they are allowed to say that is because we provide them with the freedom and liberties they possess…If it wasn't for soldiers, we'd be part of England still, the French would be speaking German, along with the majority of European Nations, and slew of other "saved by soldiers, sailors and airmen" history lessons you might have heard of”
This one is going to take me a couple of paragraphs to unravel.
At the very beginning of his statement—within one sentence amazingly enough—Zach states that the people whose rights are protected by the fighting men and women should be taken away because they don’t deserve them. Apparently the rights and liberties protected by the military are reserved only for those who agree with everything said or done by the government/military. In essence, freedom of speech does not belong to all Americans, simply for being American, but only to those willing to kill for it.
The second part of the statement is more forgivable, although still fairly ignorant of global relations and world history. First statement, “If it wasn't for soldiers, we'd be part of England still…” Which is actually right on the money and I wouldn’t argue against it if I could. The only problem being that our current foreign policy seems to have no interest in letting people of other nations—let’s just say, Iraq, for a convenient example—create their own revolutions and prosperous futures. Instead we do all the ‘dirty work’ for them and then foist upon them a governmental system that they do not seem to want or enjoy. Plain and simple our government is using young American men and women to protect oil and other industrial interests in the middle east, which is fine if you can get behind it. All I ask is that you recognize your part in it. However, the whole ordeal robs the people of smaller countries the opportunity to create a system that is right for them in their own time, organically, and domestically. Basically it comes down to the adage, “Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he will never go hungry.” We are giving away fish by the truckload, but not offering any help in others getting their own fish.
Second statement, “the French would be speaking German, along with the majority of European Nations…” This one may be true, barring, of course, that anything in the above paragraph didn’t happen between then and now. However, on a much broader scale one could argue that the only thing accomplished in stopping the German conquering of Europe is that the U.S. and its allies recognized that two wrongs do not make a right. Because the same sentence, with a few changes makes the same amount of sense, “If it weren’t for soldiers…the Navajo would still be speaking Navajo [on their native soil], along with the majority of Native American Nations.” The fact on this one is that Hitler’s rhetoric at the beginning of World War II was frighteningly similar to the idea of “Manifest Destiny” here in America that was used to control, coerce, and all but eliminate the native people of this land. I am not, by any means, defending either practice, just pointing out that sometimes things are done that seem alright at the time, but later turn out to have been a horrible bit of gaffery.
The final statement, “history lessons you might have heard of.” Yeah, I think I’ve heard something about them, here and there. All in all, however it is kind of hypocritical to ask others to support you in the taking away of other’s rights that you have ostensibly been fighting to protect. Is it not?
“they really should be removed since the only reason they are allowed to say that is because we provide them with the freedom and liberties they possess…If it wasn't for soldiers, we'd be part of England still, the French would be speaking German, along with the majority of European Nations, and slew of other "saved by soldiers, sailors and airmen" history lessons you might have heard of”
This one is going to take me a couple of paragraphs to unravel.
At the very beginning of his statement—within one sentence amazingly enough—Zach states that the people whose rights are protected by the fighting men and women should be taken away because they don’t deserve them. Apparently the rights and liberties protected by the military are reserved only for those who agree with everything said or done by the government/military. In essence, freedom of speech does not belong to all Americans, simply for being American, but only to those willing to kill for it.
The second part of the statement is more forgivable, although still fairly ignorant of global relations and world history. First statement, “If it wasn't for soldiers, we'd be part of England still…” Which is actually right on the money and I wouldn’t argue against it if I could. The only problem being that our current foreign policy seems to have no interest in letting people of other nations—let’s just say, Iraq, for a convenient example—create their own revolutions and prosperous futures. Instead we do all the ‘dirty work’ for them and then foist upon them a governmental system that they do not seem to want or enjoy. Plain and simple our government is using young American men and women to protect oil and other industrial interests in the middle east, which is fine if you can get behind it. All I ask is that you recognize your part in it. However, the whole ordeal robs the people of smaller countries the opportunity to create a system that is right for them in their own time, organically, and domestically. Basically it comes down to the adage, “Give a man a fish, he eats for a day. Teach a man to fish, and he will never go hungry.” We are giving away fish by the truckload, but not offering any help in others getting their own fish.
Second statement, “the French would be speaking German, along with the majority of European Nations…” This one may be true, barring, of course, that anything in the above paragraph didn’t happen between then and now. However, on a much broader scale one could argue that the only thing accomplished in stopping the German conquering of Europe is that the U.S. and its allies recognized that two wrongs do not make a right. Because the same sentence, with a few changes makes the same amount of sense, “If it weren’t for soldiers…the Navajo would still be speaking Navajo [on their native soil], along with the majority of Native American Nations.” The fact on this one is that Hitler’s rhetoric at the beginning of World War II was frighteningly similar to the idea of “Manifest Destiny” here in America that was used to control, coerce, and all but eliminate the native people of this land. I am not, by any means, defending either practice, just pointing out that sometimes things are done that seem alright at the time, but later turn out to have been a horrible bit of gaffery.
The final statement, “history lessons you might have heard of.” Yeah, I think I’ve heard something about them, here and there. All in all, however it is kind of hypocritical to ask others to support you in the taking away of other’s rights that you have ostensibly been fighting to protect. Is it not?
The Doozy (Pt. 4)
Number 340 brings us to the top of the Bass Ackwards category in the entries. Written by someone named Andi (no relation) it says,
“I appreciate all that the military does for us b/c I could never do that kind of a job. I am a wuss! Not everyone will agree as to why our troops are in Iraq but that doesn't matter. The point is, they are there! Support what they do anyway! They didn't volunteer to go over there!”
Ummmm, yah, they actually did volunteer to go over there. While there may still be a draft board, there is not, as far as I know, a draft anymore. Therefore, anyone who is in the military had to sign up for the job or ‘volunteer’, to be there.
As far as the rest of her statement is concerned it is all a little baffling. The fact that you would never do that kind of job because you are “a wuss” pretty much means that you do not believe in what is going on enough to actually fight for it, making you a conscientious objector. (Maybe not by the military’s definition of it, but still…) However, asking me to “support them anyway” just doesn’t make sense at all, because I do not support them in what they are doing, because I don’t agree with it. That’s like saying, I don’t agree with people killing baby seals, but they are doing it, so they deserve our support. It is counterproductive. It DOES matter whether or not we agree with why our troops are in Iraq. Not only does it matter whether or not we agree, but it matters that, by there presence and participation, the soldiers also agree, either explicitly or implicitly with what they are doing there. For them to say otherwise is a bullshit cop-out.
The fact is that it is voluntary. Being in the military is a job that you have to sign up for. Whether you agree with what goes on or not, you chose to be there. I have friends in the military, but I hope that they knew what they were getting into when they signed up. For anyone who doesn’t then they are truly ‘just doing their job’ much like a much maligned military of the past who just followed orders—probably after having responded to an ad offering to “show them the real Europe”—but whatever. The point here is that the military is a job. You sign up for it, you perform duties, they pay you for it. And like any other job, you know what you are getting into. You have to ask yourself, do I really want to do that in exchange for money? For example, if someone says to you, “Hey I have a little shop on the edge of town where we make soap out of human fat that we render after killing bad people.” you have some options at that point. You can say either A: “No, that is gross and illegal, I am calling the cops.” B: “I’ll have to think about it.” or C: “How much does it pay?”
All in all you have options. Going into the military is much the same deal. You have to know going in that you may be asked to kill someone. You have to know that you may be killed yourself. You have to know about collateral damage. All of that goes into your decision to do what you do. The way the military stays staffed is that everyone has their price. You are either in it for the money, or you truly believe in the ideals. Either way there can be no separation between the government and the soldiers. Because, by signing up for military service, you are agreeing to do whatever they send you to do, be it fighting in Iraq, Iran, or wherever the next hot zone happens to be.
I am concerned about people who say they support the troops but not Bush, or the government, or whatever, because it seems to me they are just trying to place the blame anywhere but on themselves, their friends, or their family. Those in the military, i.e. the troops, have entered into an agreement to do—for better or for worse—what Bush and the government decide they want them to do. If they truly disagreed with what they were doing, or where they had to do it, they wouldn’t sign up in the first place, would they?
I know that all of this seems cranky and long-winded, and for that I am sorry. All I really want is for people to examine the world around them more closely, think before they act and speak, and most of all, take responsibility for your actions. But above all I want everyone to remember that all of this—everything I have said, everything I have quoted, and everything said by anybody in the group that dislikes the troops—is only a collection of words. Something to be pondered, considered, rejected, or accepted. And for those of you who have made it this far, I thank you for considering what I have had to say. Take what you like from it, dismiss the rest, but above all form your own opinion. Think for yourself. Follow what you truly believe in your head and your heart and you will never be wrong. Because in the end, we’re—every one of us--just different, that’s all.
“I appreciate all that the military does for us b/c I could never do that kind of a job. I am a wuss! Not everyone will agree as to why our troops are in Iraq but that doesn't matter. The point is, they are there! Support what they do anyway! They didn't volunteer to go over there!”
Ummmm, yah, they actually did volunteer to go over there. While there may still be a draft board, there is not, as far as I know, a draft anymore. Therefore, anyone who is in the military had to sign up for the job or ‘volunteer’, to be there.
As far as the rest of her statement is concerned it is all a little baffling. The fact that you would never do that kind of job because you are “a wuss” pretty much means that you do not believe in what is going on enough to actually fight for it, making you a conscientious objector. (Maybe not by the military’s definition of it, but still…) However, asking me to “support them anyway” just doesn’t make sense at all, because I do not support them in what they are doing, because I don’t agree with it. That’s like saying, I don’t agree with people killing baby seals, but they are doing it, so they deserve our support. It is counterproductive. It DOES matter whether or not we agree with why our troops are in Iraq. Not only does it matter whether or not we agree, but it matters that, by there presence and participation, the soldiers also agree, either explicitly or implicitly with what they are doing there. For them to say otherwise is a bullshit cop-out.
The fact is that it is voluntary. Being in the military is a job that you have to sign up for. Whether you agree with what goes on or not, you chose to be there. I have friends in the military, but I hope that they knew what they were getting into when they signed up. For anyone who doesn’t then they are truly ‘just doing their job’ much like a much maligned military of the past who just followed orders—probably after having responded to an ad offering to “show them the real Europe”—but whatever. The point here is that the military is a job. You sign up for it, you perform duties, they pay you for it. And like any other job, you know what you are getting into. You have to ask yourself, do I really want to do that in exchange for money? For example, if someone says to you, “Hey I have a little shop on the edge of town where we make soap out of human fat that we render after killing bad people.” you have some options at that point. You can say either A: “No, that is gross and illegal, I am calling the cops.” B: “I’ll have to think about it.” or C: “How much does it pay?”
All in all you have options. Going into the military is much the same deal. You have to know going in that you may be asked to kill someone. You have to know that you may be killed yourself. You have to know about collateral damage. All of that goes into your decision to do what you do. The way the military stays staffed is that everyone has their price. You are either in it for the money, or you truly believe in the ideals. Either way there can be no separation between the government and the soldiers. Because, by signing up for military service, you are agreeing to do whatever they send you to do, be it fighting in Iraq, Iran, or wherever the next hot zone happens to be.
I am concerned about people who say they support the troops but not Bush, or the government, or whatever, because it seems to me they are just trying to place the blame anywhere but on themselves, their friends, or their family. Those in the military, i.e. the troops, have entered into an agreement to do—for better or for worse—what Bush and the government decide they want them to do. If they truly disagreed with what they were doing, or where they had to do it, they wouldn’t sign up in the first place, would they?
I know that all of this seems cranky and long-winded, and for that I am sorry. All I really want is for people to examine the world around them more closely, think before they act and speak, and most of all, take responsibility for your actions. But above all I want everyone to remember that all of this—everything I have said, everything I have quoted, and everything said by anybody in the group that dislikes the troops—is only a collection of words. Something to be pondered, considered, rejected, or accepted. And for those of you who have made it this far, I thank you for considering what I have had to say. Take what you like from it, dismiss the rest, but above all form your own opinion. Think for yourself. Follow what you truly believe in your head and your heart and you will never be wrong. Because in the end, we’re—every one of us--just different, that’s all.
Wednesday, August 30, 2006
Kids are Dumb
It is hard to know what goes through one's mind during the course of a normal day. I suppose that there are some who know me that have an idea of what is going on in there, but I am sure that those people are also often surprised by what actually comes out of my mouth. Such is life, I suppose. However, this evening something particularly strange floated through my addled little brain.
For some reason I remembered, completely out of the blue, a story that my Grandma Glenna once told me. We were in the bedroom of her condo down in Hillsboro, FL (I lived down that way at the time too) going through photo albums or something. Now, I might add here that I loved going to grandma and grandpa's house for four distinct reasons. 1. They lived on the beach and had a pool, which was rad. 2. Grandma always made split-pea soup, which I adore. 3. Grandpa was totally into stained glass making, and therefore had scads of little, colored, glass beads around the house that we could play with and arrange. (It occurs to me on this little trip down memory lane that I probably swallowed at least one of those little devils in my adventures.) 4. The condo had long shag carpeting that you could rake with the special indoor rakes that they had there. It was all very soothing, in the manner of those rock gardens that the people in Asia seem so fond of.
Anyway, we were in this bedroom and looking at pictures and stuff. Because I was really young, as you shall see, and because such things have no-doubt been pushed out of my head because I now know things like the given names of all the primary characters on Saved By the Bell. It's a curse. So, Grandma starts to tell me that Grandpa was on a ship during the war. (At leas I think that's what the story was about.) But here I am, all of five, or seven, or something and I have very little idea of what is going on. Grandma says "ship" and I automatically think of a space-shuttle. So I ask her if Grandpa got to drive the ship. She told me that he did not drive and was down in the belly of the ship.
Now, here is the shitty part. I was little, I barely knew what was going on in the world to say that I did not like potato salad, but Grandma was trying to be nice to me and trying to share a little family history. But all I can think of is that, even though he probably performed a vital function on the ship he did not drive, and Grandpa would have been a lot cooler if he did.
I guess the point of all of this is that one half of the people in that conversation was trying to make a genuine connection with her grandchild. For my part I was only thinking that people who drive big things are rad. (I probably even said rad at the time, because that was the era.) Maybe it is because kids really don't know better*, and maybe because Grandma's story would have been better shared when I was a little older, but that story was wasted on me until this evening when I thought about it. It is only now that I actually want to get into the meat of that story. I am sure I could talk to my dad or uncle and get the bare-bones info on the story, but it would be so much more meaningful if it came from the wife, who was alive and going through the emotions at the time. Sadly, that is no longer possible.
All of this kind of makes me worry about kids, because there is such a range of mental activity in them. One can't help but wonder what is different about the upbringings of different five year olds that let some spout fully formed and logical sentence, while others can only cry for their woobies and wet themselves. I'm sure I don't know, but it makes me wonder.
*All of this talking about how dumb little kids are has reminded me of a story run in the Onion that made me laugh to no end. It was about how some university had done tests to find out which species had the dumbest children. Some of the test included, leaving the young animals out in a thunder shower to see which would have the sense to come in, poking the young with sticks to see which would defend themselves or flee, and various others. It turns out that the only species who's young have no sense at all are those of humans.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "Just when the world seems so understanding, it knocks you over with a solid left hook." -The Dillinger Four
For some reason I remembered, completely out of the blue, a story that my Grandma Glenna once told me. We were in the bedroom of her condo down in Hillsboro, FL (I lived down that way at the time too) going through photo albums or something. Now, I might add here that I loved going to grandma and grandpa's house for four distinct reasons. 1. They lived on the beach and had a pool, which was rad. 2. Grandma always made split-pea soup, which I adore. 3. Grandpa was totally into stained glass making, and therefore had scads of little, colored, glass beads around the house that we could play with and arrange. (It occurs to me on this little trip down memory lane that I probably swallowed at least one of those little devils in my adventures.) 4. The condo had long shag carpeting that you could rake with the special indoor rakes that they had there. It was all very soothing, in the manner of those rock gardens that the people in Asia seem so fond of.
Anyway, we were in this bedroom and looking at pictures and stuff. Because I was really young, as you shall see, and because such things have no-doubt been pushed out of my head because I now know things like the given names of all the primary characters on Saved By the Bell. It's a curse. So, Grandma starts to tell me that Grandpa was on a ship during the war. (At leas I think that's what the story was about.) But here I am, all of five, or seven, or something and I have very little idea of what is going on. Grandma says "ship" and I automatically think of a space-shuttle. So I ask her if Grandpa got to drive the ship. She told me that he did not drive and was down in the belly of the ship.
Now, here is the shitty part. I was little, I barely knew what was going on in the world to say that I did not like potato salad, but Grandma was trying to be nice to me and trying to share a little family history. But all I can think of is that, even though he probably performed a vital function on the ship he did not drive, and Grandpa would have been a lot cooler if he did.
I guess the point of all of this is that one half of the people in that conversation was trying to make a genuine connection with her grandchild. For my part I was only thinking that people who drive big things are rad. (I probably even said rad at the time, because that was the era.) Maybe it is because kids really don't know better*, and maybe because Grandma's story would have been better shared when I was a little older, but that story was wasted on me until this evening when I thought about it. It is only now that I actually want to get into the meat of that story. I am sure I could talk to my dad or uncle and get the bare-bones info on the story, but it would be so much more meaningful if it came from the wife, who was alive and going through the emotions at the time. Sadly, that is no longer possible.
All of this kind of makes me worry about kids, because there is such a range of mental activity in them. One can't help but wonder what is different about the upbringings of different five year olds that let some spout fully formed and logical sentence, while others can only cry for their woobies and wet themselves. I'm sure I don't know, but it makes me wonder.
*All of this talking about how dumb little kids are has reminded me of a story run in the Onion that made me laugh to no end. It was about how some university had done tests to find out which species had the dumbest children. Some of the test included, leaving the young animals out in a thunder shower to see which would have the sense to come in, poking the young with sticks to see which would defend themselves or flee, and various others. It turns out that the only species who's young have no sense at all are those of humans.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "Just when the world seems so understanding, it knocks you over with a solid left hook." -The Dillinger Four
Saturday, August 26, 2006
There is no way I'm going to let some Lezbos beat up my lady!
Good evening.
There are three things on my mind tonight that I want to unburden here in the written word. I do not necessarily want to get them off my mind, but I do want to put them out there so that I can move on, and work on them further. I figured that sometimes people get bored and want something to do, so I will share these thoughts with you, if you care to read them. (Actually, make that four things--now that I think about it.) I feel it only polite to forewarn whomever is reading this, however, that I have no intention of making this brief. This will be as long-winded as it need be for me to actually cover what I feel needs exposure here today. If you don't have the time or inclination to read all of it right now I will, by all means, understand. I just ask that once you have started it you will hear me out, for better or worse, at some point.
Okay, enough preamble and dilly-dallying, let's get right to the meat of the matter, shall we?
1. Marathons
Today I made my way to the nearby city of Silvertown, CO to watch as several of my friends competed in the annual Silvertown Alpine Marathon. I would like to state publicly here that I cannot even imagine the motivation necessary to run in a marathon, let alone one that takes you above 10,000 feet on two separate occasions within the course of it's running. What was most confounding to me was the casual attitudes of a great many of the runners as they finished the race. Granted it was a small and not uber-competitive (at least from what I could tell) field, but a good many of the people traipsing across the finish line began to hold immediate and seemingly casual conversations with friends and race coordinators. I also feel that it is worth noting that of my four friends in the race only one of them did not immediately request a beer upon crossing the line--and of the other three one of them did not wait even to cross the line before bellowing a request for the cold and foamy refreshment.
Everyone was rather chipper upon completion of their morning task. Having just run some twenty-six (26) miles one would have thought that there would have been a great deal more exhaustion and delirium among the ranks. I suppose my expectations were born of hearing stories from my mother and sister who have fairly regularly volunteered to help out at the Chicago Marathon over the years. With tales of involuntary bowel releases, voluntary bladder releases, vomitous and passing out, I expected the runners I saw today to be much more haggard than they turned out to be. I, on the other hand, cannot stand to run for even five minutes let alone the five or so hours that these people had run. It was all very impressive and I want to here congratulate them all on their achievement. In fact, the only downside of the whole afternoon was that some of the on-lookers were completely enthralled with the siren function on a bull-horn that they had gotten from god-knows-where. For a man having seen the lights come up in the bars near the two o'clock hour earlier in the morning there is nothing more grating on the nerves than a braying siren in the hands of enthusiastic supporters. But, that aside, it was a wonderful time. I even played Frisbee with a stranger.
2. Business and the Generation Gap
After all the race day festivities were through and done with today my father, my Lindsey, Michael J. and I made our way to lunch where we had a very interesting--at least I thought it was interesting--conversation about generational differences in the workplace.
The conversation so intrigued me that I have decided that I should better use my free time in the near future to write about not just the subject of how differences in generation effect how we deal with people in every day situations in the business world, but more to the point how the younger generations are being left in the cold when it comes to the discrepancies in the increase in the cost of living versus the [lack of] increase in standard wages. I would like to write either an article or possibly a book on the subject, but we shall see what the research will bear, right...
Anyway, the subject of age and attitude when it comes to consumerism is a very interesting one. Where one generation seems to thrive on personal contact while another is infinitely happier to rely on computerized systems for their purchasing needs. I suppose the major differences in the groups can be boiled down to two possible reasoning processes--if you will indulge me in a somewhat oversimplified look at the subject. One school of thought would be that people of older generations desire the niceties that come with personal interaction. They like to know the name of who they are dealing with, and also to have that person know who they are. Being of the younger generation myself I can only moderately understand those feelings. While it is nice for someone with whom you are dealing to know you, and know what you like it is just as well by me if they have no idea who I am, so long as they are competent at their job.
As I say, I am of the younger, more technologically accepting generation. When at work I feel like I have more trouble with the older clients because to me they are in need of having their hands held through everything. They want someone to talk to about their problems to make sure that what they think has happened has actually happened. I suppose it is just a more cautious endeavor, and maybe the difference is not generational at all but simply a personal one. Perhaps I am less apt to worry than most people and therefore label those who do worry as "old" and "confused."
However, research needs to be done, and we will see what it turns up. This could be fun, and definitely keep me out of the bars. I hope that the library is open until 2am. Wheee!
3. The Arway on Errortay (Shhhhh!)
Apparently there is to be a made-for-TV movie coming out sometime next week, or in the next few weeks, about the governmental knowledge in the time leading up to the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks. Now, I have already seen a documentary or two on the subject wherein it is pointed out that the United States government had knowledge that something of the sort was likely, and indeed predicted, to happen on American soil, but failed to act on that information.
In these documentaries and TV dramas there are obviously going to be differences of opinion as to whether or not the decision to do nothing was intentional or, in fact, it was not a decision at all or simply an oversight. (This is completely omitting--for the sake of my being sleepy--the theories that what hit the pentagon was not an airplane at all, but a missile of some sort...) Whatever your opinion, and however you may have come to hold it, it is fairly obvious that something went very wrong and lives were lost.
The thing that got me thinking about this today was a question from my girlfriend. During one of the commercials she asked me something to the effect of, "What is the point of making a movie like that? Why would you want to basically tell people that their government is not looking out for their best interests after all, but good luck anyway?"
I did not really have a response for the question other than to answer with another question. Isn't that what the media is supposed to do? I mean if the government is not looking after our best interests (and believe me, I in no way think that they are anymore) I think it is the job of the media to let us know, so that we can pick a better form of government. I do not want to sound too preachy, but I feel as though the government has strayed much to far from its origins these days to the point where many people revere it as an untouchable entity rather than a group of people who ostensibly there to serve our needs. I fear that too many times we are blinded by a doctrine of fear into believing that we need the government, which is what they want, isn't it? At this point the government is acting like a corporation that wants you to feel that you need it, much like a regular company wants you to believe that you cannot live without their product. They [the government] is creating a market for itself so that it will seem like a bad idea, or at the very least a terrible inconvenience to seek out a better form of government.
I watched a movie a couple of weeks ago in which there was an incredibly interesting and timely line...or at least I thought so. The main character stated, "People should not be afraid of the government, Governments should be afraid of the people." (or somesuch) What got to me about this line was what it did not say, more than anything. Upon first blush I was nodding my head going, 'yes, yes, that is so true.' but the more I thought about the statement the more I loved it for what it said by way of omission. That something could on the surface seem so right on, miss the boat entirely, and then totally redeem itself on cross-examination was very endearing to me. Let me explain what I mean:
People, these days, in this country, are scared of pretty much everything. This situation is not helped by the fact that every local news show every is so totally focused on the negative in life that even the once-in-a-while feel good puff pieces that they do only serve the make the viewers think, 'that is so cute how silly they are being when they could be stabbed in the ear any minute by a crazy person, of whom there are an infinite number a-lurking around every corner. I know this because I see the stories every day.' But what people ARE NOT afraid of is the government (yeah I used capitalization and italics. emphasis, bitches!). Most people are more concerned that their elected officials go to the right kind of church and have not touched anything weird with their wieners lately [or hoo-haas for the lady elected officials] than they are about foreign policy. In fact, most people look to the government for protection, rather than cowering from stern edicts and laws.
Contrary to what I fear was the intended message of that little quip from the movie (it's from V for Vendetta, by the by) I think that the government in this country is VERY afraid of the people of this country. The government is afraid that we will find out that they have long-since stopped doing us any favors and are largely occupied by making sure the needs of people who give them money are met. However, if they keep us dazzled and/or terrified constantly we will never have time to think about what they actually do, and who it actually benefits, so they get to keep their jobs, and we have something to do, hooray. So, in the end we get to keep on being the currently most hated people in the world and we also get to continue not to understand why.
U.S.A! U.S.A! U.S.A!
4. Frustration
The whole reason I got into this blogging thing was because I had the hopes in my head that there would be some interaction, some feedback. But in the end, there is nothing. For example, tonight I have spent the better part of an hour writing about things that worry/amuse/interest/elate me, but I can count on the fact that I probably won't hear word one back from people who have read it. I would really like to hear anything from people. Questions, comments, rebuttals, anything. I know this is kind of low and needy, but whatever. It just baffles me that nobody even drops a 'hey, I read that, here I am recognizing that you filled a little of my day' on the comments section. But then I see people in person and they say they read and like it. I don't know it just feels like after a while I am talking to a wall. A wall that I'm not even sure is there to listen, but I am fairly sure will not respond. I guess all I really want in the end is to know that somebody (anybody) is actually reading this stuff and that it is worth my time to keep writing, so long as it is worth somebody's time to keep reading. That's all I wonder about. I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else." -Chuck P.
There are three things on my mind tonight that I want to unburden here in the written word. I do not necessarily want to get them off my mind, but I do want to put them out there so that I can move on, and work on them further. I figured that sometimes people get bored and want something to do, so I will share these thoughts with you, if you care to read them. (Actually, make that four things--now that I think about it.) I feel it only polite to forewarn whomever is reading this, however, that I have no intention of making this brief. This will be as long-winded as it need be for me to actually cover what I feel needs exposure here today. If you don't have the time or inclination to read all of it right now I will, by all means, understand. I just ask that once you have started it you will hear me out, for better or worse, at some point.
Okay, enough preamble and dilly-dallying, let's get right to the meat of the matter, shall we?
1. Marathons
Today I made my way to the nearby city of Silvertown, CO to watch as several of my friends competed in the annual Silvertown Alpine Marathon. I would like to state publicly here that I cannot even imagine the motivation necessary to run in a marathon, let alone one that takes you above 10,000 feet on two separate occasions within the course of it's running. What was most confounding to me was the casual attitudes of a great many of the runners as they finished the race. Granted it was a small and not uber-competitive (at least from what I could tell) field, but a good many of the people traipsing across the finish line began to hold immediate and seemingly casual conversations with friends and race coordinators. I also feel that it is worth noting that of my four friends in the race only one of them did not immediately request a beer upon crossing the line--and of the other three one of them did not wait even to cross the line before bellowing a request for the cold and foamy refreshment.
Everyone was rather chipper upon completion of their morning task. Having just run some twenty-six (26) miles one would have thought that there would have been a great deal more exhaustion and delirium among the ranks. I suppose my expectations were born of hearing stories from my mother and sister who have fairly regularly volunteered to help out at the Chicago Marathon over the years. With tales of involuntary bowel releases, voluntary bladder releases, vomitous and passing out, I expected the runners I saw today to be much more haggard than they turned out to be. I, on the other hand, cannot stand to run for even five minutes let alone the five or so hours that these people had run. It was all very impressive and I want to here congratulate them all on their achievement. In fact, the only downside of the whole afternoon was that some of the on-lookers were completely enthralled with the siren function on a bull-horn that they had gotten from god-knows-where. For a man having seen the lights come up in the bars near the two o'clock hour earlier in the morning there is nothing more grating on the nerves than a braying siren in the hands of enthusiastic supporters. But, that aside, it was a wonderful time. I even played Frisbee with a stranger.
2. Business and the Generation Gap
After all the race day festivities were through and done with today my father, my Lindsey, Michael J. and I made our way to lunch where we had a very interesting--at least I thought it was interesting--conversation about generational differences in the workplace.
The conversation so intrigued me that I have decided that I should better use my free time in the near future to write about not just the subject of how differences in generation effect how we deal with people in every day situations in the business world, but more to the point how the younger generations are being left in the cold when it comes to the discrepancies in the increase in the cost of living versus the [lack of] increase in standard wages. I would like to write either an article or possibly a book on the subject, but we shall see what the research will bear, right...
Anyway, the subject of age and attitude when it comes to consumerism is a very interesting one. Where one generation seems to thrive on personal contact while another is infinitely happier to rely on computerized systems for their purchasing needs. I suppose the major differences in the groups can be boiled down to two possible reasoning processes--if you will indulge me in a somewhat oversimplified look at the subject. One school of thought would be that people of older generations desire the niceties that come with personal interaction. They like to know the name of who they are dealing with, and also to have that person know who they are. Being of the younger generation myself I can only moderately understand those feelings. While it is nice for someone with whom you are dealing to know you, and know what you like it is just as well by me if they have no idea who I am, so long as they are competent at their job.
As I say, I am of the younger, more technologically accepting generation. When at work I feel like I have more trouble with the older clients because to me they are in need of having their hands held through everything. They want someone to talk to about their problems to make sure that what they think has happened has actually happened. I suppose it is just a more cautious endeavor, and maybe the difference is not generational at all but simply a personal one. Perhaps I am less apt to worry than most people and therefore label those who do worry as "old" and "confused."
However, research needs to be done, and we will see what it turns up. This could be fun, and definitely keep me out of the bars. I hope that the library is open until 2am. Wheee!
3. The Arway on Errortay (Shhhhh!)
Apparently there is to be a made-for-TV movie coming out sometime next week, or in the next few weeks, about the governmental knowledge in the time leading up to the World Trade Center and Pentagon attacks. Now, I have already seen a documentary or two on the subject wherein it is pointed out that the United States government had knowledge that something of the sort was likely, and indeed predicted, to happen on American soil, but failed to act on that information.
In these documentaries and TV dramas there are obviously going to be differences of opinion as to whether or not the decision to do nothing was intentional or, in fact, it was not a decision at all or simply an oversight. (This is completely omitting--for the sake of my being sleepy--the theories that what hit the pentagon was not an airplane at all, but a missile of some sort...) Whatever your opinion, and however you may have come to hold it, it is fairly obvious that something went very wrong and lives were lost.
The thing that got me thinking about this today was a question from my girlfriend. During one of the commercials she asked me something to the effect of, "What is the point of making a movie like that? Why would you want to basically tell people that their government is not looking out for their best interests after all, but good luck anyway?"
I did not really have a response for the question other than to answer with another question. Isn't that what the media is supposed to do? I mean if the government is not looking after our best interests (and believe me, I in no way think that they are anymore) I think it is the job of the media to let us know, so that we can pick a better form of government. I do not want to sound too preachy, but I feel as though the government has strayed much to far from its origins these days to the point where many people revere it as an untouchable entity rather than a group of people who ostensibly there to serve our needs. I fear that too many times we are blinded by a doctrine of fear into believing that we need the government, which is what they want, isn't it? At this point the government is acting like a corporation that wants you to feel that you need it, much like a regular company wants you to believe that you cannot live without their product. They [the government] is creating a market for itself so that it will seem like a bad idea, or at the very least a terrible inconvenience to seek out a better form of government.
I watched a movie a couple of weeks ago in which there was an incredibly interesting and timely line...or at least I thought so. The main character stated, "People should not be afraid of the government, Governments should be afraid of the people." (or somesuch) What got to me about this line was what it did not say, more than anything. Upon first blush I was nodding my head going, 'yes, yes, that is so true.' but the more I thought about the statement the more I loved it for what it said by way of omission. That something could on the surface seem so right on, miss the boat entirely, and then totally redeem itself on cross-examination was very endearing to me. Let me explain what I mean:
People, these days, in this country, are scared of pretty much everything. This situation is not helped by the fact that every local news show every is so totally focused on the negative in life that even the once-in-a-while feel good puff pieces that they do only serve the make the viewers think, 'that is so cute how silly they are being when they could be stabbed in the ear any minute by a crazy person, of whom there are an infinite number a-lurking around every corner. I know this because I see the stories every day.' But what people ARE NOT afraid of is the government (yeah I used capitalization and italics. emphasis, bitches!). Most people are more concerned that their elected officials go to the right kind of church and have not touched anything weird with their wieners lately [or hoo-haas for the lady elected officials] than they are about foreign policy. In fact, most people look to the government for protection, rather than cowering from stern edicts and laws.
Contrary to what I fear was the intended message of that little quip from the movie (it's from V for Vendetta, by the by) I think that the government in this country is VERY afraid of the people of this country. The government is afraid that we will find out that they have long-since stopped doing us any favors and are largely occupied by making sure the needs of people who give them money are met. However, if they keep us dazzled and/or terrified constantly we will never have time to think about what they actually do, and who it actually benefits, so they get to keep their jobs, and we have something to do, hooray. So, in the end we get to keep on being the currently most hated people in the world and we also get to continue not to understand why.
U.S.A! U.S.A! U.S.A!
4. Frustration
The whole reason I got into this blogging thing was because I had the hopes in my head that there would be some interaction, some feedback. But in the end, there is nothing. For example, tonight I have spent the better part of an hour writing about things that worry/amuse/interest/elate me, but I can count on the fact that I probably won't hear word one back from people who have read it. I would really like to hear anything from people. Questions, comments, rebuttals, anything. I know this is kind of low and needy, but whatever. It just baffles me that nobody even drops a 'hey, I read that, here I am recognizing that you filled a little of my day' on the comments section. But then I see people in person and they say they read and like it. I don't know it just feels like after a while I am talking to a wall. A wall that I'm not even sure is there to listen, but I am fairly sure will not respond. I guess all I really want in the end is to know that somebody (anybody) is actually reading this stuff and that it is worth my time to keep writing, so long as it is worth somebody's time to keep reading. That's all I wonder about. I hope everyone is having a wonderful weekend.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "You are not a beautiful and unique snowflake. You are the same decaying organic matter as everything else." -Chuck P.
Tuesday, August 22, 2006
So, maybe I'm a liar...
Would that make me the worst person in the world? I don't think so. There are plenty of other liars and lies out there that make the fact that I didn't write yesterday only a mere bluff on the grand scale of untruths. For example; "There are WMDs in Iraq," "Santa Clause," "The Tooth Fairy," "If your hand is bigger than your face you have cancer," "Grandma's just sleeping," "I love you," all--in the proper context are lies that put mine to shame. And, here is the most important part, I did not MEAN to lie to you. Some of the things mentioned above were out and out falsities put forth intentionally to decieve. Especially offensive given that some of them were directed to children who, by nature, are stupid and will believe anything they are told by someon older than them. I don't think that any children read what I write here, but if they do, god bless them.
Anyway, here I am writing to you, dear reader, a day late, and probably a paragraph or two short, but I wanted to give you something to do. (More importantly I wanted to give ME something to do.) I would say that the only reason I type on this infernal device is to give me something to do, but the truth is that I actually care whether people read this or not. I care even more about whether they like what they have read. I suppose that those of you that keep reading find something useful in your time spent on the page, so I guess that's something.
I was feeling sorry for myself this morning, and not because I am a chubby balding character, but rather because I am not getting along well at my new job. I am frustrated, angry, tired, bored, and lost all at the same time. So, today I have decided to make a contract with myself to turn all that shit around. Except maybe for the balding bit, which I really have very little control over. The point is that I am taking it upon myself to do my best to conquer this new job and make it my bitch, so that once I am actually on top of the situation I can make a more informed decision about acutally liking the job for what it is as a whole, not just as it is on this day. So I will be doing that.
I have also decided--this, much earlier in the morning while making myself clean and presentable--that I need to change my lifestyle to be a better person. And hopefully to live longer and not have to shop in the "husky" department anymore. To that end I have, as of today given up drinking until the all-hallow's eve celebration at the end of October. Between now and then I will not consume any beer or alcohol. (I will be taking a break for the first half of November in order to properly celebrate some birthdays.) I will also eliminate from my diet the sodas and juices that are so sugary and make me a fatty. Once that is working well I will try to eliminate all candies and chocolates as well. I am going to be a regular health nut. After the candies, etc. are gone I will work on eliminating fried foods and so on, until I am eating nothing but grilled delisciousness. We'll see how it all works out, but it is good to have goals.
I would also like some input today on attending college soccer matches. Is it creepy, even though I am an alum to go back to the school and watch the soccer games? I mean, they are the best thing going in the region for live-sports-action, so I don't see why I shouldn't go to the games. My concern, predominantly, is the propriety of sitting in the student section. Should I feel free, or should I relegate myself to the regular townie cheering side? Who knows. I am also a little worried about the fact that my former school does not have any Football style team scarves that the fans can sport in support of the team, and to protect the tender necks of onlookers as the season progresses into fall. I think this is a major oversight on the part of the book store and the booster's club. I am assuming here that Fort Lewis does HAVE a booster's club, but I would not be suprised if that money went to some local interest group or another.
Anyway, I think that is about all for now, as my lady-friend is going to take me out to dinner--like on a date--this evening and I want to look my best so that she may want to give me kisses later. Have I told everyone about my lady-friend? If I have been remiss in that area, please let me know and I will let you know all about her. Until then...
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "But your bootstraps were broken before you arrived."- D4
Anyway, here I am writing to you, dear reader, a day late, and probably a paragraph or two short, but I wanted to give you something to do. (More importantly I wanted to give ME something to do.) I would say that the only reason I type on this infernal device is to give me something to do, but the truth is that I actually care whether people read this or not. I care even more about whether they like what they have read. I suppose that those of you that keep reading find something useful in your time spent on the page, so I guess that's something.
I was feeling sorry for myself this morning, and not because I am a chubby balding character, but rather because I am not getting along well at my new job. I am frustrated, angry, tired, bored, and lost all at the same time. So, today I have decided to make a contract with myself to turn all that shit around. Except maybe for the balding bit, which I really have very little control over. The point is that I am taking it upon myself to do my best to conquer this new job and make it my bitch, so that once I am actually on top of the situation I can make a more informed decision about acutally liking the job for what it is as a whole, not just as it is on this day. So I will be doing that.
I have also decided--this, much earlier in the morning while making myself clean and presentable--that I need to change my lifestyle to be a better person. And hopefully to live longer and not have to shop in the "husky" department anymore. To that end I have, as of today given up drinking until the all-hallow's eve celebration at the end of October. Between now and then I will not consume any beer or alcohol. (I will be taking a break for the first half of November in order to properly celebrate some birthdays.) I will also eliminate from my diet the sodas and juices that are so sugary and make me a fatty. Once that is working well I will try to eliminate all candies and chocolates as well. I am going to be a regular health nut. After the candies, etc. are gone I will work on eliminating fried foods and so on, until I am eating nothing but grilled delisciousness. We'll see how it all works out, but it is good to have goals.
I would also like some input today on attending college soccer matches. Is it creepy, even though I am an alum to go back to the school and watch the soccer games? I mean, they are the best thing going in the region for live-sports-action, so I don't see why I shouldn't go to the games. My concern, predominantly, is the propriety of sitting in the student section. Should I feel free, or should I relegate myself to the regular townie cheering side? Who knows. I am also a little worried about the fact that my former school does not have any Football style team scarves that the fans can sport in support of the team, and to protect the tender necks of onlookers as the season progresses into fall. I think this is a major oversight on the part of the book store and the booster's club. I am assuming here that Fort Lewis does HAVE a booster's club, but I would not be suprised if that money went to some local interest group or another.
Anyway, I think that is about all for now, as my lady-friend is going to take me out to dinner--like on a date--this evening and I want to look my best so that she may want to give me kisses later. Have I told everyone about my lady-friend? If I have been remiss in that area, please let me know and I will let you know all about her. Until then...
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "But your bootstraps were broken before you arrived."- D4
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Here's the Thing...
Apparently, the best thing to do when you have the day off is NOT to lay around the house like a peice of furniture and fall asleep watching "Dazed and Confused" only to wake up and turn the channel to the "PGA Championship". In face, I cannot think of a more wasteful use of four hours on a perfectly lovely Sunday. But anyway, that is exactly what I did. So, here I am at nearly 11:30 MST writing to you folks in the hope that you will care even a little bit.
I went and played poker tonight with some lads and lost handily. In fact, I lost so handily that I even had time to buy back in and lose all that money too. What it basically comes down to is that I'm shite at cards. Actually, I'm only truly shite when there is money involved. I would much rather play games of skill than chance, but who knows. Maybe I'll learn my lesson someday.
Okay, that is all I can think of right now...or at least all I can type about because the keyboard strikes me as noisy and I don't want to keep others up. I promise I'll write something long-winded and absolutely-pointless tomorrow that people can read if they are bored at work or whatever. G'night.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "What did she do, take a vow of frowns or something?"- T.S. Garp
I went and played poker tonight with some lads and lost handily. In fact, I lost so handily that I even had time to buy back in and lose all that money too. What it basically comes down to is that I'm shite at cards. Actually, I'm only truly shite when there is money involved. I would much rather play games of skill than chance, but who knows. Maybe I'll learn my lesson someday.
Okay, that is all I can think of right now...or at least all I can type about because the keyboard strikes me as noisy and I don't want to keep others up. I promise I'll write something long-winded and absolutely-pointless tomorrow that people can read if they are bored at work or whatever. G'night.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "What did she do, take a vow of frowns or something?"- T.S. Garp
Thursday, July 27, 2006
Bergina is for lovers
I am kind of wondering if this is all there is. I mean, does everyone feel like this right off the bat, or does it sometimes take years to get here. As I was leaving the office this evening I thought to myself, "whelp, I managed to fill up another day with stuff." Should your career, while it puts food on the table and passes the time, also be something you love doing? In the grand scheme of things I would like to be able to say that there is something more out there. Some devine job that is waiting for every person, based on their desires, loves, skills, and aptitude. But the sad truth is that a vast majority of people are doing jobs that they hate just to pay the bills.
I am not saying in any way here that I hate my job. I like my job very much. I think I may, however, be settling in to the realization that this is it. There will be no "next season"--as there has been for the last six years of my life--there will be no "next semester"--as there has been for longer than I care to recount here. Tomorrow, next week, next year...it is going to be the same thing. Not exactly the same thing, of course. Today I had tuna caserole for lunch. but enough of the same thing to make me start to worry about my future outlook. Oh well, though, right, everyone has to grin and bear it for a while until they can be truly happy, right. I just hope I don't get crushed by an RV before that happens...
In other--probably more entertaining--news, I was recently in the Chicagoland area for a week visiting family and friends. A good time was had by all. More importantly, going on at the same time we were there was the 8th (annual?, consecutive?, I'm not sure) Gay Games! This was remarkable for me for a few reasons. First and foremost that such an event received so very little coverage that I noticed. I guess that should not have been so suprising in that when the World Cup was in Chicago during my High School years I barely heard a whisper about it. And a lot more people [internationally] are into futbol than sodomy. (This, dear reader, is not a fact, simply an assumption, and maybe a bad one.)
The second thing that I found sensational was that the participants in the games actually dispelled a myth for me. There is much hubub that homosexual men are better dressers than mere mortal men. The fact is that this summer, during the tenure of the Gay Games, the only way I could tell the difference between your average beer-gutted, tank-topped, besandaled, sweaty american tourist was the presence of a tiny back-pack. (Many of which were obviously some sort of promotional item from a group to be found at the website gay.com) Oh, I would like to make one notable exception in this catagory for a nice young couple that were wearing some smashing sailor suits...but they might just have been sailors on leave and I just jumped the gun because they were holding hands.
Okay, because I am tired and would like to go lay down--yeah, I know it's only nine o'clock but I am old now and have to have a real person's job--I will give you a brief, but informational, rundown of our exciting trip to the middle west:
[editor's note: I wanted to use bullets for these, but I couldn't figure out how to make bullets on this here myspace device. If anyone runs into Tom you punch him in the stomach for me.]
[Secondary editor's note: Oh yeah, because of the lack of bullets this will be done by days. If there is any day you have a particular disdain for in the roman calendar you may feel free to skip that day and read a day that you do like twice.]
Saturday: Drove all night to catch a flight in Denver, Creepy stewardess stared at me, ate beef and cheese with cheese fries, cookout at mom's where I got my ass handed to me in "bags" (Aparently people were getting tired of natural selection and have moved from lawn darts to horse shoes to this little pufta game where you really have to try to get anyone hurt.)
Sunday: Don't remember why we were late for things but we were, went to the Field Museum where I decided that I could probably take a T-rex in hand to hand combat. Go ahead, prove me wrong...
Monday: Architectural tour of Chicago, on a boat. Navy Pier, where it was ungodly hot but I did ride the Ferris Wheel [Introduced to the world at the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago]. Then shopping on Michigan avenue where there were entirely too much people and almost no customer service.
Tuesday: I don't at all remember what we did Tuesday. I think we bought some stuff and then went to the city where I achieved a tummy ache by drinking a lot of Old Style brand beer and having a very fluffy omlette at three in the morning. However, Fat Tuesdays at the Exit was the best time I have had in a bar in a while, with my pants on.
Wednesday: Slept in late, and didn't do much of anything until I met my mom 'n' them for happy hour. Afterwards we went to a totally rocking show where the Lawrence Arms made lots of loud noises as I nodded apreciatively.
Thursday: Went to a Cubs game where the home squadron was able to triumph over the visiting Dis-astros. If memory serves the Cubs generally win when I am at games, so, if anyone from the team's upper management is reading this and wants to give me bleacher seats for life, I would not turn them down.
Friday: Took in a matinee and enjoyed Chicago style pizza. Very relaxing.
Saturday: Became intoxicated/sun burned at a pool party. I would be remiss if I failed to mention that shortly after becoming pink from the sun we were hailed on at the very same pool party. A good time was had by all.
Sunday: Airplane, long drive, much sleep. Hooray, home.
Although I cannot remember what night it happened on, I distinctly remember going bowling, falling down, and then having the power go out...which led to the inevitable candle light dinner of White Castles. Also, I learned on this trip that White Castle spells their burger with a "Y". Those in the know will know what I mean. Also, everyone should be impressed that, in one week's time, I managed to gain back the 20 pounds I had lost since graduation. Hooray me! Yay, sea level and beer.
I guess that's it. Sorry for not writing more, I'm trying to be better about it. Laters.
-A.R. Leith
I am not saying in any way here that I hate my job. I like my job very much. I think I may, however, be settling in to the realization that this is it. There will be no "next season"--as there has been for the last six years of my life--there will be no "next semester"--as there has been for longer than I care to recount here. Tomorrow, next week, next year...it is going to be the same thing. Not exactly the same thing, of course. Today I had tuna caserole for lunch. but enough of the same thing to make me start to worry about my future outlook. Oh well, though, right, everyone has to grin and bear it for a while until they can be truly happy, right. I just hope I don't get crushed by an RV before that happens...
In other--probably more entertaining--news, I was recently in the Chicagoland area for a week visiting family and friends. A good time was had by all. More importantly, going on at the same time we were there was the 8th (annual?, consecutive?, I'm not sure) Gay Games! This was remarkable for me for a few reasons. First and foremost that such an event received so very little coverage that I noticed. I guess that should not have been so suprising in that when the World Cup was in Chicago during my High School years I barely heard a whisper about it. And a lot more people [internationally] are into futbol than sodomy. (This, dear reader, is not a fact, simply an assumption, and maybe a bad one.)
The second thing that I found sensational was that the participants in the games actually dispelled a myth for me. There is much hubub that homosexual men are better dressers than mere mortal men. The fact is that this summer, during the tenure of the Gay Games, the only way I could tell the difference between your average beer-gutted, tank-topped, besandaled, sweaty american tourist was the presence of a tiny back-pack. (Many of which were obviously some sort of promotional item from a group to be found at the website gay.com) Oh, I would like to make one notable exception in this catagory for a nice young couple that were wearing some smashing sailor suits...but they might just have been sailors on leave and I just jumped the gun because they were holding hands.
Okay, because I am tired and would like to go lay down--yeah, I know it's only nine o'clock but I am old now and have to have a real person's job--I will give you a brief, but informational, rundown of our exciting trip to the middle west:
[editor's note: I wanted to use bullets for these, but I couldn't figure out how to make bullets on this here myspace device. If anyone runs into Tom you punch him in the stomach for me.]
[Secondary editor's note: Oh yeah, because of the lack of bullets this will be done by days. If there is any day you have a particular disdain for in the roman calendar you may feel free to skip that day and read a day that you do like twice.]
Saturday: Drove all night to catch a flight in Denver, Creepy stewardess stared at me, ate beef and cheese with cheese fries, cookout at mom's where I got my ass handed to me in "bags" (Aparently people were getting tired of natural selection and have moved from lawn darts to horse shoes to this little pufta game where you really have to try to get anyone hurt.)
Sunday: Don't remember why we were late for things but we were, went to the Field Museum where I decided that I could probably take a T-rex in hand to hand combat. Go ahead, prove me wrong...
Monday: Architectural tour of Chicago, on a boat. Navy Pier, where it was ungodly hot but I did ride the Ferris Wheel [Introduced to the world at the 1893 Columbian Exposition in Chicago]. Then shopping on Michigan avenue where there were entirely too much people and almost no customer service.
Tuesday: I don't at all remember what we did Tuesday. I think we bought some stuff and then went to the city where I achieved a tummy ache by drinking a lot of Old Style brand beer and having a very fluffy omlette at three in the morning. However, Fat Tuesdays at the Exit was the best time I have had in a bar in a while, with my pants on.
Wednesday: Slept in late, and didn't do much of anything until I met my mom 'n' them for happy hour. Afterwards we went to a totally rocking show where the Lawrence Arms made lots of loud noises as I nodded apreciatively.
Thursday: Went to a Cubs game where the home squadron was able to triumph over the visiting Dis-astros. If memory serves the Cubs generally win when I am at games, so, if anyone from the team's upper management is reading this and wants to give me bleacher seats for life, I would not turn them down.
Friday: Took in a matinee and enjoyed Chicago style pizza. Very relaxing.
Saturday: Became intoxicated/sun burned at a pool party. I would be remiss if I failed to mention that shortly after becoming pink from the sun we were hailed on at the very same pool party. A good time was had by all.
Sunday: Airplane, long drive, much sleep. Hooray, home.
Although I cannot remember what night it happened on, I distinctly remember going bowling, falling down, and then having the power go out...which led to the inevitable candle light dinner of White Castles. Also, I learned on this trip that White Castle spells their burger with a "Y". Those in the know will know what I mean. Also, everyone should be impressed that, in one week's time, I managed to gain back the 20 pounds I had lost since graduation. Hooray me! Yay, sea level and beer.
I guess that's it. Sorry for not writing more, I'm trying to be better about it. Laters.
-A.R. Leith
Mad at Bill.
I wouldn't say mad, really, but at the very least he has perturbed me.
There was a recent comment made her on my page featuring a link to a web page that derides the book Atlas Shrugged. It is written from an obviously socialist standpoint, which in and of itself I have no problem with. The problem comes, for me, when anyone hears that I like that book. (Well, not anyone, but anyone who is even mildly socially aware.) There is an automatic assumption that becuse I like that book I am staunchly capitalist and hate "the people". The problem arises in the fact that I don't really feel how I feel because of what THEY got out of the reading of the book but rather what I derived from the book. Let's take a step back though...
For those of you who haven't heard about, or read, the book let's get a brief rundown:
Atlas Shrugged is ostensibly about a young woman who is in a position of power and will not lower her standards and becomes an outcast of industry in search for like. What it is really about is the clash between capitalism and socialism, as many powerful industrialists in the book form a little club and drop out of society, causing the infrastructure to collapse as "common people" are left to flounder without any direction or benefactors. This is all horse-shit. Not least of all because of the way it portrays a supposedly enlightened and powerful woman.
What Atlas Shrugged is about, to me:
Okay I think we can all agree that the premis is kind of bullshit. To assume that if a few wealthy and powerful people disapeared society and the national infrastructure would crumble before other power-hungry and ambitious people stepped up to fill their place is a hard pill to swallow. So don't swallow it. I know I didn't. There are, however, many ideas in the book that got me to thinking, or struck a chord, which is why I like the book. First and foremost is the central idea behind the story. A story which wandered a little to far from the point. The idea is that people--society as a whole--should not come to rely on the goodness, the power, and the importance of others, or all will be lost. Atlas Shrugged is a parable about taking responsibility for yourself and not expecting, nevermind asking for, the help of others and becoming to rely on what others have done as a crutch for your own survival and well being. I do not think that we live in a world where we should put others before ourselves in the sense that we cannot be expected to survive on our own. Every man is great enough to survive and prosper without handouts from others.
I fear that our country is on the verge of becoming the dystopia portrayed in Atlas Shrugged, but that is a whole different blog entry. In the end what I like about the book is it's underlying ideas, rather than the story. I love what it makes me think about and that it allows me to dispise what it depicts while still spawning positive and self assuring ideas and notions within me. I am fairly positive that this is not the message intended by Rand in the book. Her message, however, is much more clear in The Fountainhead, which is why I like it much more. It is more clean cut and about not sacrificing ideals in a more personaly way, which, to me, is better. (Look at all those commas!)
Okay, that is all for now, I'm out for a week, but contemplating writing a journal on here every night of my vacation, just to get the typing juices flowing again so I can blog better and more frequently. Tell me what you think.
Laters
-A.R. Leith
There was a recent comment made her on my page featuring a link to a web page that derides the book Atlas Shrugged. It is written from an obviously socialist standpoint, which in and of itself I have no problem with. The problem comes, for me, when anyone hears that I like that book. (Well, not anyone, but anyone who is even mildly socially aware.) There is an automatic assumption that becuse I like that book I am staunchly capitalist and hate "the people". The problem arises in the fact that I don't really feel how I feel because of what THEY got out of the reading of the book but rather what I derived from the book. Let's take a step back though...
For those of you who haven't heard about, or read, the book let's get a brief rundown:
Atlas Shrugged is ostensibly about a young woman who is in a position of power and will not lower her standards and becomes an outcast of industry in search for like. What it is really about is the clash between capitalism and socialism, as many powerful industrialists in the book form a little club and drop out of society, causing the infrastructure to collapse as "common people" are left to flounder without any direction or benefactors. This is all horse-shit. Not least of all because of the way it portrays a supposedly enlightened and powerful woman.
What Atlas Shrugged is about, to me:
Okay I think we can all agree that the premis is kind of bullshit. To assume that if a few wealthy and powerful people disapeared society and the national infrastructure would crumble before other power-hungry and ambitious people stepped up to fill their place is a hard pill to swallow. So don't swallow it. I know I didn't. There are, however, many ideas in the book that got me to thinking, or struck a chord, which is why I like the book. First and foremost is the central idea behind the story. A story which wandered a little to far from the point. The idea is that people--society as a whole--should not come to rely on the goodness, the power, and the importance of others, or all will be lost. Atlas Shrugged is a parable about taking responsibility for yourself and not expecting, nevermind asking for, the help of others and becoming to rely on what others have done as a crutch for your own survival and well being. I do not think that we live in a world where we should put others before ourselves in the sense that we cannot be expected to survive on our own. Every man is great enough to survive and prosper without handouts from others.
I fear that our country is on the verge of becoming the dystopia portrayed in Atlas Shrugged, but that is a whole different blog entry. In the end what I like about the book is it's underlying ideas, rather than the story. I love what it makes me think about and that it allows me to dispise what it depicts while still spawning positive and self assuring ideas and notions within me. I am fairly positive that this is not the message intended by Rand in the book. Her message, however, is much more clear in The Fountainhead, which is why I like it much more. It is more clean cut and about not sacrificing ideals in a more personaly way, which, to me, is better. (Look at all those commas!)
Okay, that is all for now, I'm out for a week, but contemplating writing a journal on here every night of my vacation, just to get the typing juices flowing again so I can blog better and more frequently. Tell me what you think.
Laters
-A.R. Leith
Who wants a moustache ride?
Who wants a moustache ride?
I have decided that living in Durango is a lot like being in a really big Day-care all the time. Now, now, don't get me wrong. I do not mean this in a mean or judgemental way. It is just that summer seems to finally be coming to D-town this evening, and I was walking home from the bars and eyeing the general public. Everyone is cruising around on their bikes and skateboards like it is a todler-free-for-all. It is kind of nice to see people holding on to their youth so fondly--although sometimes desperately--because in the world today there is a lot of shit going down, and enjoying yourself is hard. (Not to get into the question or whether or not we SHOULD be enjoying ourselves when there is so much that needs fixing, or in some cases leaving alone, because if it ain't broke, don't try and fix it.) But anyway, I guess that is why people move to Colorado, so that they can put the rest of their lives on hold in this mountainous never-never-land.
At any rate, keep up the goot times; just make sure that they do not become someone else's bad times. Also, it is summertime, so I would like to--once again--call for the repeal of the pedestrian right of way, because it defies logic, good sense, and evolution, and is really annoying when you are trying to turn onto a busy street and your chance FINALLY comes and some fancy dipshit wanders out into the cross walk, so you are stuck for another five minutes. Maybe what we need is elevated walkways, or pedestrian malls, so that cars and walkers need not bother with one another. Oh well, I'll put that on the wish list with the monorail. Laters kids.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "It's time to start being kids again, when hopes are strong and eyes are bright...I just wanna be a kid again, I wanna play in the park." -Slapstick
I have decided that living in Durango is a lot like being in a really big Day-care all the time. Now, now, don't get me wrong. I do not mean this in a mean or judgemental way. It is just that summer seems to finally be coming to D-town this evening, and I was walking home from the bars and eyeing the general public. Everyone is cruising around on their bikes and skateboards like it is a todler-free-for-all. It is kind of nice to see people holding on to their youth so fondly--although sometimes desperately--because in the world today there is a lot of shit going down, and enjoying yourself is hard. (Not to get into the question or whether or not we SHOULD be enjoying ourselves when there is so much that needs fixing, or in some cases leaving alone, because if it ain't broke, don't try and fix it.) But anyway, I guess that is why people move to Colorado, so that they can put the rest of their lives on hold in this mountainous never-never-land.
At any rate, keep up the goot times; just make sure that they do not become someone else's bad times. Also, it is summertime, so I would like to--once again--call for the repeal of the pedestrian right of way, because it defies logic, good sense, and evolution, and is really annoying when you are trying to turn onto a busy street and your chance FINALLY comes and some fancy dipshit wanders out into the cross walk, so you are stuck for another five minutes. Maybe what we need is elevated walkways, or pedestrian malls, so that cars and walkers need not bother with one another. Oh well, I'll put that on the wish list with the monorail. Laters kids.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "It's time to start being kids again, when hopes are strong and eyes are bright...I just wanna be a kid again, I wanna play in the park." -Slapstick
Womb Broom, with the Flavor Savor Option
So, in celebration of the recent Cinco de Mustache I did just that and shaved myself a mustache. I also, however, left what is commonly referred to as a "soul patch" and less commonly referred to as a "flavor savor". At any rate, I look at a jackass. But it has been good in one aspect of life: Because I had a full beard for many months, the presence of hair on my upper lip is not foreign to me. So basically I totally forget that the rest of the beard is no longer there until someone mentions it, or I see myself in the mirror. Anyway, it has been good for a chuckle now and again, and sometimes that is all my day needs to be good.
The long and the short of the whole situation is that I will be keeping the 'stash until such a time that I have a decent digital photo of myself with it posted on this-here page for all the world to see. Won't that be nice?
In other news, I have recently graduated from the prestegious Fort Lewis College; Colorado's Campus in the Sky; The Harvard on the Hill, etc. Everyone keeps asking me "now what?" The only problem is that the only response I really have to that question is, "exactly." I really have no idea what I want to do with my life. If anybody out there is looking to throw money at a young college graduate, please feel free to drop me a line. I graduated with honors, you know! Consider this my resume...
The final thing I would like to talk about here today is the near-complete-lack-of-driving-ability here in Durango. I know I've harped on this before, so I am only going to bring up one specific thing that has been chapping my ass lately. Apparently there are a good number of people around here who do not understand the meaning of a "Yeild" sign. Briefly, it means that you are to cover the brake as you approach and, if someone is coming from the direction that does not have the yeild sign, you are to yeild the right of way. This does not seem to register with some Durango drivers. They either treat the sign as a stop sign and halt completely, or as though it doesn't exist at all.
Now, being a bad driver is one thing, but then throwing a hissy-fit when someone honks at you because you are a bad driver and have endangered others is quite different. I don't know. I guess I just think that everyone is so out of it and "happy" here that they treat a good honking at like you have kicked their sister in the uterus. I guess all I am asking is that people feel sufficiently guilty when they are not paying attention on the road and impede the progress of others. But maybe that's too much to ask, right?
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- If I have ever learned anything from the internet, it is that some people should probably keep their clothes on.
The long and the short of the whole situation is that I will be keeping the 'stash until such a time that I have a decent digital photo of myself with it posted on this-here page for all the world to see. Won't that be nice?
In other news, I have recently graduated from the prestegious Fort Lewis College; Colorado's Campus in the Sky; The Harvard on the Hill, etc. Everyone keeps asking me "now what?" The only problem is that the only response I really have to that question is, "exactly." I really have no idea what I want to do with my life. If anybody out there is looking to throw money at a young college graduate, please feel free to drop me a line. I graduated with honors, you know! Consider this my resume...
The final thing I would like to talk about here today is the near-complete-lack-of-driving-ability here in Durango. I know I've harped on this before, so I am only going to bring up one specific thing that has been chapping my ass lately. Apparently there are a good number of people around here who do not understand the meaning of a "Yeild" sign. Briefly, it means that you are to cover the brake as you approach and, if someone is coming from the direction that does not have the yeild sign, you are to yeild the right of way. This does not seem to register with some Durango drivers. They either treat the sign as a stop sign and halt completely, or as though it doesn't exist at all.
Now, being a bad driver is one thing, but then throwing a hissy-fit when someone honks at you because you are a bad driver and have endangered others is quite different. I don't know. I guess I just think that everyone is so out of it and "happy" here that they treat a good honking at like you have kicked their sister in the uterus. I guess all I am asking is that people feel sufficiently guilty when they are not paying attention on the road and impede the progress of others. But maybe that's too much to ask, right?
-A.R. Leith
p.s.- If I have ever learned anything from the internet, it is that some people should probably keep their clothes on.
Wednesday, April 05, 2006
Doth Mine Eyes Decieve Me?
I was innocently walking across campus the other day and was almost struck by a rollerblader. Let me repeat that, just in case you did not understand--as I had a hard time understanding--that I was almost "struck" by a "rollerblader". I was under the impression that this was a dead breed. That is, I was under that impression.
Last year I had the good fortune to summer in the suburbs of Chicago. I had completely forgotten that there was such a sport as rollerblading, until one day I was on my way to the city and looked out the window on the way down lakeshore drive. What did I behold but the vision of--not just one or two--but literally dozens of people on inline skates careening their way along the waterfront. Oh sure, there were also cyclists, runners and "speed-walkers", but the once-believed-extinct rollerblader was the most prominent, because of their perceived rarity. It came as great surprise to me when my sister informed me that these were not, in fact, rarities, but a common sight on the streets of that Midwestern metropolis.
But that does not really cover the fact of the matter that this girl was HAULING. And she was totally into it. Shortly after whizzing by me she got into this awesome crouch and began some totally radical slalom turning to slow down before darting into traffic. I could tell she was on her way to someplace, because she had thought ahead and had thrown a pair of flippy-flops in her back pocket. So, you knew something was up. This girl had it going on, and nobody could stop her on the way to greatness. It was just her and those skates against the world.
In other news, I am fast approaching my graduation from college. Having attended various institutions for the better part of a decade it has come my time to move on in life. I don't know what the big deal about growing up is, but it's damn near time that I join the human race and become a productive member of society. I don't know exactly when that is going to happen, and in what fashion, but as of now, becoming a teacher of literature for High School students is still pretty high on the list of things that could very possibly happen, but it would need a little more schooling. I'm okay with that, so long as it is just a little bit.
Anyway, the ceremony and all that entails is upcoming, and that is what everything in life is going towards for me right now, and I couldn't be more excited. I'm really excited, aren't you? If not, you should be.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "Mistakes are just fine, just don't make excuses." -Telegraph
Last year I had the good fortune to summer in the suburbs of Chicago. I had completely forgotten that there was such a sport as rollerblading, until one day I was on my way to the city and looked out the window on the way down lakeshore drive. What did I behold but the vision of--not just one or two--but literally dozens of people on inline skates careening their way along the waterfront. Oh sure, there were also cyclists, runners and "speed-walkers", but the once-believed-extinct rollerblader was the most prominent, because of their perceived rarity. It came as great surprise to me when my sister informed me that these were not, in fact, rarities, but a common sight on the streets of that Midwestern metropolis.
But that does not really cover the fact of the matter that this girl was HAULING. And she was totally into it. Shortly after whizzing by me she got into this awesome crouch and began some totally radical slalom turning to slow down before darting into traffic. I could tell she was on her way to someplace, because she had thought ahead and had thrown a pair of flippy-flops in her back pocket. So, you knew something was up. This girl had it going on, and nobody could stop her on the way to greatness. It was just her and those skates against the world.
In other news, I am fast approaching my graduation from college. Having attended various institutions for the better part of a decade it has come my time to move on in life. I don't know what the big deal about growing up is, but it's damn near time that I join the human race and become a productive member of society. I don't know exactly when that is going to happen, and in what fashion, but as of now, becoming a teacher of literature for High School students is still pretty high on the list of things that could very possibly happen, but it would need a little more schooling. I'm okay with that, so long as it is just a little bit.
Anyway, the ceremony and all that entails is upcoming, and that is what everything in life is going towards for me right now, and I couldn't be more excited. I'm really excited, aren't you? If not, you should be.
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "Mistakes are just fine, just don't make excuses." -Telegraph
Thursday, March 23, 2006
You Know...
There are a lot of ethical, moral, and logistical problems involved in time travel. I was in a local eatery this evening, and got to thinking about it. My girlfriend, Lindsey, ordered a strawberry-custard milkshake. Unfortunately she has an aversion to food items with chunks or bits of fruit in them, owing to an unfortunate summer-camp incident involving regurgitation by a camper in her care. So, she gets her shake and all is well and good, until she hits the first chunk of delicious real strawberry. As she was trying to pawn off her milkshake on anyone who will listen--including trying to get me to trade her my deliciously-chunk-free chocolate shake--I began to think of ways of solving the problem. The first idea that popped into my head was to ask the giggly girls at the counter to remove the offending chunks with some sort of device that I am sure they have on hand for just such occasions. Recognizing the impracticality of that I began to weigh other options.
It was at that point that I hit on the idea of a time-travel device. However, it was quickly clear that there are a lot of problems attendant to time travel. My first thought was that we could simply go back in time and buy a shake of a different flavor. That would only solve the problem for the future Lindsey, and the present Lindsey would still be stuck with the offending dairy product. My next idea was to have the future Lindsey come back to warn her past self about the chunk-filled beverage. This brought up the question of what, exactly, would happen if Future Girlfriend came to talk to Present Girlfriend. Would the traveler of time disappear as soon as the course of the present was changed to, say, a vanilla flavored drink? Because it would be unnecessary for the trip to have happened if the past were altered and the shake were not a problem. And then, as Doc Brown can tell you, all sorts of other changes in the future might occur as ripples from this seemingly insignificant change. All in all I think it is a very sticky situation and time travel should be left alone, at least until we can reasonably predict the repercussions of changing the past.
That being said, I think it is worth mentioning that it has been quite a long time since I have written here. In fact, I am sure that there are a great many of you for whom it will take a long time to realize that I have started writing on this little device again, but let me tell you, by way of explanation, why it has been so long...if you care.
First and foremost, I have met a lady and I have been spending a lot of time with her, wooing her and whatnot. This is a very good thing, but it has changed my daily thought-process about how my time is spent. Secondly, we have come to the part of the season in College Basketball where it is important to watch a great deal of that sport on the television in order to know who to pick in the tournament bracket that we are all likely to fill out, but few are destined to win. Finally, and perhaps most importantly my college career is soon coming to an end and I have been spending a lot of time agonizing over what my future can, should, and will look like. I know, I know, I have had the better part of a decade to figure all of this out, but until recently that fact has not really sunk in for me. So, if any of you have any career openings that you would like to offer me, I am open to anything at the moment, and trying to get my shit together. Okay, thank you for listening (or reading), and I will do my best to make this a more frequent occurrence this summer.
Also, summer travel plans are in the process of being made, so if any of you have some suggestions I would love to consider them. Just let me know. Word...
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "How much art can you take?" -Patty
It was at that point that I hit on the idea of a time-travel device. However, it was quickly clear that there are a lot of problems attendant to time travel. My first thought was that we could simply go back in time and buy a shake of a different flavor. That would only solve the problem for the future Lindsey, and the present Lindsey would still be stuck with the offending dairy product. My next idea was to have the future Lindsey come back to warn her past self about the chunk-filled beverage. This brought up the question of what, exactly, would happen if Future Girlfriend came to talk to Present Girlfriend. Would the traveler of time disappear as soon as the course of the present was changed to, say, a vanilla flavored drink? Because it would be unnecessary for the trip to have happened if the past were altered and the shake were not a problem. And then, as Doc Brown can tell you, all sorts of other changes in the future might occur as ripples from this seemingly insignificant change. All in all I think it is a very sticky situation and time travel should be left alone, at least until we can reasonably predict the repercussions of changing the past.
That being said, I think it is worth mentioning that it has been quite a long time since I have written here. In fact, I am sure that there are a great many of you for whom it will take a long time to realize that I have started writing on this little device again, but let me tell you, by way of explanation, why it has been so long...if you care.
First and foremost, I have met a lady and I have been spending a lot of time with her, wooing her and whatnot. This is a very good thing, but it has changed my daily thought-process about how my time is spent. Secondly, we have come to the part of the season in College Basketball where it is important to watch a great deal of that sport on the television in order to know who to pick in the tournament bracket that we are all likely to fill out, but few are destined to win. Finally, and perhaps most importantly my college career is soon coming to an end and I have been spending a lot of time agonizing over what my future can, should, and will look like. I know, I know, I have had the better part of a decade to figure all of this out, but until recently that fact has not really sunk in for me. So, if any of you have any career openings that you would like to offer me, I am open to anything at the moment, and trying to get my shit together. Okay, thank you for listening (or reading), and I will do my best to make this a more frequent occurrence this summer.
Also, summer travel plans are in the process of being made, so if any of you have some suggestions I would love to consider them. Just let me know. Word...
-A.R. Leith
Quote: "How much art can you take?" -Patty
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Everybody and Their Sister
It would seem that everybody and their sister is getting involved in this myspace business. Everyone tells me that I should join and "become part of the community" but all it really seems like to me is an online circle-jerk of people congratulating eachother on being able to take the digital photo and put it into cyber-space. (Do people even really call it 'cyber-space' anymore? Is that too passe? Does it date me?) Myspace is Latin, I believe, for "I have entirely too much free time and would probably be put to better use as a construction flagger or a ground troop in one of the many on-going military thingies in which the good ol' U.S. of A. is currently embroiled. Whatever the reason for the hullabaloo, I just don't know how many pictures of other people having fun I want to look at while trying to make it through college and a full time job. But that is not really why I came on here today...
What I would like to tell you fine people about is the phenomenon I would like to call over-achieving at the gym. I have recently embarked on a program/resolution fulfillment plan that involves me losing a good deal of weight by graduation. In order to do this I have started going to the gym on a daily basis. Granted, it has only been two days so far but that still counts as a daily basis then, doesn't it--look it up. So I got the bright idea to go to the gym before work on this Monday last. How is it possible that every piece of machinery at the gym is occupied at five-forty-five in the goddamn morning? I thought I was being so sly by going at an off hour. Apparently the fact that there is only one real gym in town and it is woefully undersized for the number of "fitness nuts" in this little mountain village. Tomorrow I am going to try in the evening and see if it isn't a little better. I think the place should be open 24 hours a day, but that wouldn't stand in a town where the only thing to do after nine p.m. is to get drunk...so we've got that going for us, which is nice.
Here's the other problem I have with going to the gym: In order to get my heart rate up and burn the fatty tissue that I am so desirous of being rid of I have decided to ride the exercise bicycle. However, on the bicycle that has the cushy seat--not the one that you sit down in like a chair, or the super-agro lemond with the tiny seat--when I ride for too long my junk falls asleep. It is not an altogether unpleasant sensation, except for the fact that I have to keep looking down to make sure I am not "aroused" in a very public way. There is just no feeling at all down there. It is altogether strange.
Okay, I think that is about all for now, other than the fact that I am considering building a house in the Yukon in which to live and stay away from people who bug me. More on people who bug me in the next blog...
-A.R. Leith
"Life should be made as difficult as possible so that the victims might learn something in the effort." -Hunter S. Thompson
What I would like to tell you fine people about is the phenomenon I would like to call over-achieving at the gym. I have recently embarked on a program/resolution fulfillment plan that involves me losing a good deal of weight by graduation. In order to do this I have started going to the gym on a daily basis. Granted, it has only been two days so far but that still counts as a daily basis then, doesn't it--look it up. So I got the bright idea to go to the gym before work on this Monday last. How is it possible that every piece of machinery at the gym is occupied at five-forty-five in the goddamn morning? I thought I was being so sly by going at an off hour. Apparently the fact that there is only one real gym in town and it is woefully undersized for the number of "fitness nuts" in this little mountain village. Tomorrow I am going to try in the evening and see if it isn't a little better. I think the place should be open 24 hours a day, but that wouldn't stand in a town where the only thing to do after nine p.m. is to get drunk...so we've got that going for us, which is nice.
Here's the other problem I have with going to the gym: In order to get my heart rate up and burn the fatty tissue that I am so desirous of being rid of I have decided to ride the exercise bicycle. However, on the bicycle that has the cushy seat--not the one that you sit down in like a chair, or the super-agro lemond with the tiny seat--when I ride for too long my junk falls asleep. It is not an altogether unpleasant sensation, except for the fact that I have to keep looking down to make sure I am not "aroused" in a very public way. There is just no feeling at all down there. It is altogether strange.
Okay, I think that is about all for now, other than the fact that I am considering building a house in the Yukon in which to live and stay away from people who bug me. More on people who bug me in the next blog...
-A.R. Leith
"Life should be made as difficult as possible so that the victims might learn something in the effort." -Hunter S. Thompson
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