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 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 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.


-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

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.