I've had a few complaints from people who have wanted to post comments on Threshold, but were unwilling to register, and complaints from others who did register because they had to go through the bother of registering.
All along I thought it was some sort of official Blogger policy, and was myself a little annoyed by it, since I hate having to register on Web sites.
For example, I had to register at Wal Mart's Web site the other day just to find out what the balance is on the gift card my brother gave me for Christmas.
There was another site I was looking at the other day, for a FREE newspaper, which required registering just to read the articles.
So I hate the whole registration thing, and was actually going to write an entry decrying Blogger's lame-ass registration policy.
...
Today I went into my settings and discovered that at any time I could have set Threshold to accept anonymous posts.
Whoops.
Okay, so technically it's my fault, but, um, well...Damn Blogger for setting the default to not allowing anonymous posts! Come on, who's with me? Boo, Blogger! Boo, default settings!
*Sigh*
Anyway, I have adjusted the settings and anonymous posts are now allowed, so feel free to flame away with vitriolic posts delineating the reasons that I'm a total dumbass, and know that you can do so with impunity.
After all, that's what what anonymity is for, right? Anonymity gives you the freedom to say whatever you want without fear of reprisal.
Being anonymous makes you brave, doesn't it? Yeah, I get it. So you're a big shot now, huh? Come on out in the open and say that, punk! Oh, you're so tough when you're hiding behind some unregistered, made up, pussy name, aren't you?
But seriously, feel free to comment anonymously.
Though a REAL man would register.
I'm just sayin' is all...
Saturday, December 11, 2004
The excitement never stops (because it never starts)
Not too much new or interesting going on so far today.
I got up and went grocery shopping. I decided to stock up a little, so I ended up spending almost $90.
Once I got home I took the various kinds of meat (I bought a lot, which is part of why my grocery bill was so high) out of their packaging, wrapped them up in wax paper and tin foil, labeled each package, then stuck them in the freezer.
Then I went over to the clubhouse to get in an interval workout on the treadmill, but found that I just wasn’t up to it. I’m not sure what was going on, but after a little more than ten minutes my shins were killing me, and I couldn’t keep going. I was having difficulty even properly lifting my legs for any sort of stride.
So I called it quits and headed back home.
I threw a roast and some vegetables into the crock pot, and got to work on making pumpkin bread.
Once the pumpkin bread was in the oven I called in to work to see what was going on and to point out that they were at work while I was not.
Kathleen rattled off the events of today and yesterday much like a young child on the phone (“And then, Chris did this and then I did that and Scott did something else and I can ride my bike real fast and…”), and I found that I was missing out on a great deal, apparently.
After that I gave a friend of mine in Tucson a call, but he couldn’t talk for very long, as he actually had plans.
The pumpkin bread hasn’t properly cooled yet, but I did impatiently try a piece (or three), and it seems to have turned out very well.
I started on a couple of pictures last night, but I don’t really feel like working on any of them, so I might sift through some of my various downloaded pictures to see if anything sparks my interest to use as a reference.
And that’s pretty much it for today.
My “vacation” is actually almost over, since tomorrow is the last of my days off before I get back to being on my usual weekend, and while I did some things, I really didn’t do anything especially interesting.
Again, that’s hardly surprising, especially considering that I really didn’t plan on doing anything.
For the most part, I don’t want much more out of life than just quiet time to myself, but it wouldn’t bother me if something interesting would happen every so often, but I guess that’s just not in the cards.
I may write more later, but that’s all for right now…
I got up and went grocery shopping. I decided to stock up a little, so I ended up spending almost $90.
Once I got home I took the various kinds of meat (I bought a lot, which is part of why my grocery bill was so high) out of their packaging, wrapped them up in wax paper and tin foil, labeled each package, then stuck them in the freezer.
Then I went over to the clubhouse to get in an interval workout on the treadmill, but found that I just wasn’t up to it. I’m not sure what was going on, but after a little more than ten minutes my shins were killing me, and I couldn’t keep going. I was having difficulty even properly lifting my legs for any sort of stride.
So I called it quits and headed back home.
I threw a roast and some vegetables into the crock pot, and got to work on making pumpkin bread.
Once the pumpkin bread was in the oven I called in to work to see what was going on and to point out that they were at work while I was not.
Kathleen rattled off the events of today and yesterday much like a young child on the phone (“And then, Chris did this and then I did that and Scott did something else and I can ride my bike real fast and…”), and I found that I was missing out on a great deal, apparently.
After that I gave a friend of mine in Tucson a call, but he couldn’t talk for very long, as he actually had plans.
The pumpkin bread hasn’t properly cooled yet, but I did impatiently try a piece (or three), and it seems to have turned out very well.
I started on a couple of pictures last night, but I don’t really feel like working on any of them, so I might sift through some of my various downloaded pictures to see if anything sparks my interest to use as a reference.
And that’s pretty much it for today.
My “vacation” is actually almost over, since tomorrow is the last of my days off before I get back to being on my usual weekend, and while I did some things, I really didn’t do anything especially interesting.
Again, that’s hardly surprising, especially considering that I really didn’t plan on doing anything.
For the most part, I don’t want much more out of life than just quiet time to myself, but it wouldn’t bother me if something interesting would happen every so often, but I guess that’s just not in the cards.
I may write more later, but that’s all for right now…
Friday, December 10, 2004
Not the face I was looking for
Overall, I like this image. However, it really fails to live up to my expectations, primarily in the face.
The woman in the picture is named Nike (after the Greek goddess, not the shoe company), and in the context of the (largely unwritten) story of which she is a part, an image of her in formal wear holding a broken, rusty sword makes perfect sense...
As far as the quality of the image, I think I really outdid myself in some areas, but like I said, the face is a disappointment. Technically it's a fairly well-done face, it's just not her face. Oh well, I thought I'd share it anyway.
Sleeping In, Jackets! Jackets! Jackets!, and Just Another Evening at Home
On those occasions when I actually take time off from work there’s always this weirdness that goes along with it, since it’s odd to think that even though I’d already been off for four days, today is my first actual day off.
Staying up past seven last night was also odd, as was sleeping in until after 10 this morning (I mention that in order to rub it in the faces of any of my co-workers who might be reading this. Yes, I slept until after 10, whereas you were at work before 6.).
Since it was payday, and a larger than usual payday at that thanks to holiday pay for Thanksgiving and the day after, I decided to venture out into the world to spend some money.
I started out by going to Ross.
I don’t often go there, as it is a bit further away from home than I typically venture, and whenever I do go to a Ross it always seems as though the place has been cleaned out before I got there.
While I was there I found a jacket that I don’t think was actual leather, though I couldn't determine what it actually was. It may have been leather, because if it wasn’t it was the most convincing “pleather” or vinyl I’ve ever encountered. It really looked and felt like leather. It was a decent-looking jacket, too, and only $20. Even before the Ross discount it was only $60, so I really doubt that it was real leather.
Still, even though it looked and felt convincing, the fact that I didn’t know what it was made from (there was no label indicating the materials that I could find), I decided against buying it.
I saw something on the clearance rack that made me laugh: a pair of skin-tight silver vinyl pants.
While I think that hot chicks should be required to wear things like skin-tight silver (and other colors) vinyl pants, I conversely believe that no man should ever be allowed to do it.
Ultimately I ended up buying a sweater that I’m still not sure whether or not I like.
After that I went to Target and continued to not be impressed. Lots of people seem to like Target, but I’ve always found Wal Mart to have a larger selection and lower prices.
I know Brian would be likely make some sort of ghetto/white trash comments about Wal Mart, but I guess I’m just not enough of a snob to care. It’s cheaper, therefore it’s better.
After that I went to the Dulles Town Center. I’m not really certain what distinguishes a “Town Center” from a mall other than the fact that they call it a “Town Center,” but that's what it's called.
Still, despite how full the parking lot was, I found the mall…err, Town Center to be surprisingly empty. I wandered around aimlessly for a while before deciding to get some lunch at the food court.
However, it seemed that everyone who had parked outside had congregated there. Because the thought of that teeming mass of humanity pressing in on me was too much like an element of my worst nightmares, I opted to go hungry.
I wandered around a while longer, eventually stopping at an Old Navy store for a bit. While I was in there they played commercials for Old Navy over the intercom. Specifically, those people from the TV commercials singing an original composition written especially for the intercom.
I really hate it when stores advertise themselves inside the store.
I mean, it’s not enough that you piss me off nightly with your commercials on TV, after I come in here, despite how much you piss me off, you have to try to piss me off even more? Do you just not want me to buy stuff from you? Because I have to say, if that's the case you're pretty likely to get your wish.
What really got me, though, was the fact that they had a jacket I wanted for around $40, but they didn’t have it in my size, despite what the hangers said, as the jackets on the large hangers were, in fact, mediums.
Even though I’m not an especially big person, I have to wear large in order to accommodate my shoulders. I missed out on inheriting charm, carpentry, and general “handiness” from my dad, but I did get the broad shoulders.
After looking through two racks and discovering that all of the “larges” were mediums, I left in annoyance.
I really didn’t need the jacket, but I have a…thing for jackets. I’m not sure what to call it. There’s no sexual component, so I can’t really call it a fetish, but basically I just really like jackets, and I own rather a lot of them. It’s kind of like how some women are with shoes.
At present, I have twelve different jackets, including three long coats and three different kinds of leather jackets. I would have much more than that if I weren’t capable of demonstrating at least some amount of restraint, or if Old Navy could actually hang large jackets on the large hangers.
I believe that the style of jacket I was looking at is known as a “Pea Coat,” the sort of thing that sailors in the Navy wear.
On my way out of the Town Center I stopped by the little seasonal calendar shop. Last year I waited too long to buy a calendar and had to buy a Boris Vallejo and Julie Bell calendar rather than a Janesko calendar. The one benefit was that I got it insanely cheap, since they were clearing out their last dregs before closing up shop, but it wasn’t what I wanted.
Unfortunately, they didn’t appear to have any Janesko calendars. Maybe I’ll buy one from her site (http://www.janesko.com/ – This site contains nudity.).
While I was looking at calendars some school choir was performing Christmas songs. Not to judge them unfairly, but they kind of sucked, and I’m not saying that just because I disliked their material. They just weren’t very good, and the choir leader made them add odd vocalizations to “jazz up” the stodgy old classics.
Like at the beginning of one of their performances, they just kept going “Sha na na na na na” over and over again. Initially I thought they were doing a performance of KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Give It Up” (You know: Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, now/Baby give it up/Give it up/Baby give it up), but it ended up being, of all things, “Jingle Bells.”
From the Town Center I headed to Best Buy, where I found nothing that I could afford to buy, and discovered that International Conspiracy of People Who Congregate In Front of Things That Jon Wants To Look At (ICPWCIFTTJWTLA for short)had gotten there before I did, and finally I headed to Wal Mart where I bought my Christmas present from my mom and dad.
Yes, I did mean to say “from.” My mom is going to send me money that I’m supposed to use to buy myself some new pots and pans. So, even though I haven’t gotten the money yet, I bought the pots and pans while I was there.
When I got home I found that one of the sauté pans was pretty badly bent in the box, but I couldn’t complain too much considering how inexpensive the set was.
Okay, “cheap” is a better word, but at least I’m finally free of the crappy, hand-me-down pots and pans that I used to have (I just threw them out).
So that makes me happy. Sort of. Well, you know, the Jon Happiness Equivalent (It's kind of like Wal Mart's "Equate" store brand).
When I got home, based on some advice Kathleen gave me the other day, I reorganized my kitchen.
And now I’m here.
It’s Friday night and I find myself wondering what it is that people who aren’t in bed early in order to get up at 4:15 in the morning do on Friday nights.
Once upon a time there would have been exactly zero chance that I would not be at the bar by now, but those days are behind me.
I suppose that I could still hit a bar. I mean, there’s no law (except maybe Murphy’s) saying that I can’t go to a bar. After all, I’ve been to bars on numerous occasions since I quit drinking without any problems.
Still, those times I went with people, so there was something of a “safety net.”
Besides, apart from discovering that I could spend time in a bar without drinking on those occasions, I also discovered that I really didn’t enjoy it.
For me, being at a bar and not drinking is utterly pointless, and I don’t find it to be fun at all.
So that’s pretty much out.
Besides, the nearest bar (A sports bar, which only makes it that much less appealing) is a fair distance away, which, on a cold, rainy night like tonight would necessitate driving, and I really don’t feel like driving anywhere right now.
So I guess it’s an exciting evening alone at home for me.
That’s not really surprising, though. When I scheduled this weekend off I pretty much figured on not actually doing anything.
Still, there is that part of me deep down inside that’s railing against just how lame I’ve become, and I really feel like I should be doing something, though I’m sure that if I sit down long enough and do nothing, that feeling will just go away.
Fortunately I still have plenty of time left in which to do exactly that…
Staying up past seven last night was also odd, as was sleeping in until after 10 this morning (I mention that in order to rub it in the faces of any of my co-workers who might be reading this. Yes, I slept until after 10, whereas you were at work before 6.).
Since it was payday, and a larger than usual payday at that thanks to holiday pay for Thanksgiving and the day after, I decided to venture out into the world to spend some money.
I started out by going to Ross.
I don’t often go there, as it is a bit further away from home than I typically venture, and whenever I do go to a Ross it always seems as though the place has been cleaned out before I got there.
While I was there I found a jacket that I don’t think was actual leather, though I couldn't determine what it actually was. It may have been leather, because if it wasn’t it was the most convincing “pleather” or vinyl I’ve ever encountered. It really looked and felt like leather. It was a decent-looking jacket, too, and only $20. Even before the Ross discount it was only $60, so I really doubt that it was real leather.
Still, even though it looked and felt convincing, the fact that I didn’t know what it was made from (there was no label indicating the materials that I could find), I decided against buying it.
I saw something on the clearance rack that made me laugh: a pair of skin-tight silver vinyl pants.
While I think that hot chicks should be required to wear things like skin-tight silver (and other colors) vinyl pants, I conversely believe that no man should ever be allowed to do it.
Ultimately I ended up buying a sweater that I’m still not sure whether or not I like.
After that I went to Target and continued to not be impressed. Lots of people seem to like Target, but I’ve always found Wal Mart to have a larger selection and lower prices.
I know Brian would be likely make some sort of ghetto/white trash comments about Wal Mart, but I guess I’m just not enough of a snob to care. It’s cheaper, therefore it’s better.
After that I went to the Dulles Town Center. I’m not really certain what distinguishes a “Town Center” from a mall other than the fact that they call it a “Town Center,” but that's what it's called.
Still, despite how full the parking lot was, I found the mall…err, Town Center to be surprisingly empty. I wandered around aimlessly for a while before deciding to get some lunch at the food court.
However, it seemed that everyone who had parked outside had congregated there. Because the thought of that teeming mass of humanity pressing in on me was too much like an element of my worst nightmares, I opted to go hungry.
I wandered around a while longer, eventually stopping at an Old Navy store for a bit. While I was in there they played commercials for Old Navy over the intercom. Specifically, those people from the TV commercials singing an original composition written especially for the intercom.
I really hate it when stores advertise themselves inside the store.
I mean, it’s not enough that you piss me off nightly with your commercials on TV, after I come in here, despite how much you piss me off, you have to try to piss me off even more? Do you just not want me to buy stuff from you? Because I have to say, if that's the case you're pretty likely to get your wish.
What really got me, though, was the fact that they had a jacket I wanted for around $40, but they didn’t have it in my size, despite what the hangers said, as the jackets on the large hangers were, in fact, mediums.
Even though I’m not an especially big person, I have to wear large in order to accommodate my shoulders. I missed out on inheriting charm, carpentry, and general “handiness” from my dad, but I did get the broad shoulders.
After looking through two racks and discovering that all of the “larges” were mediums, I left in annoyance.
I really didn’t need the jacket, but I have a…thing for jackets. I’m not sure what to call it. There’s no sexual component, so I can’t really call it a fetish, but basically I just really like jackets, and I own rather a lot of them. It’s kind of like how some women are with shoes.
At present, I have twelve different jackets, including three long coats and three different kinds of leather jackets. I would have much more than that if I weren’t capable of demonstrating at least some amount of restraint, or if Old Navy could actually hang large jackets on the large hangers.
I believe that the style of jacket I was looking at is known as a “Pea Coat,” the sort of thing that sailors in the Navy wear.
On my way out of the Town Center I stopped by the little seasonal calendar shop. Last year I waited too long to buy a calendar and had to buy a Boris Vallejo and Julie Bell calendar rather than a Janesko calendar. The one benefit was that I got it insanely cheap, since they were clearing out their last dregs before closing up shop, but it wasn’t what I wanted.
Unfortunately, they didn’t appear to have any Janesko calendars. Maybe I’ll buy one from her site (http://www.janesko.com/ – This site contains nudity.).
While I was looking at calendars some school choir was performing Christmas songs. Not to judge them unfairly, but they kind of sucked, and I’m not saying that just because I disliked their material. They just weren’t very good, and the choir leader made them add odd vocalizations to “jazz up” the stodgy old classics.
Like at the beginning of one of their performances, they just kept going “Sha na na na na na” over and over again. Initially I thought they were doing a performance of KC and the Sunshine Band’s “Give It Up” (You know: Na, na, na, na, na, na, na, now/Baby give it up/Give it up/Baby give it up), but it ended up being, of all things, “Jingle Bells.”
From the Town Center I headed to Best Buy, where I found nothing that I could afford to buy, and discovered that International Conspiracy of People Who Congregate In Front of Things That Jon Wants To Look At (ICPWCIFTTJWTLA for short)had gotten there before I did, and finally I headed to Wal Mart where I bought my Christmas present from my mom and dad.
Yes, I did mean to say “from.” My mom is going to send me money that I’m supposed to use to buy myself some new pots and pans. So, even though I haven’t gotten the money yet, I bought the pots and pans while I was there.
When I got home I found that one of the sauté pans was pretty badly bent in the box, but I couldn’t complain too much considering how inexpensive the set was.
Okay, “cheap” is a better word, but at least I’m finally free of the crappy, hand-me-down pots and pans that I used to have (I just threw them out).
So that makes me happy. Sort of. Well, you know, the Jon Happiness Equivalent (It's kind of like Wal Mart's "Equate" store brand).
When I got home, based on some advice Kathleen gave me the other day, I reorganized my kitchen.
And now I’m here.
It’s Friday night and I find myself wondering what it is that people who aren’t in bed early in order to get up at 4:15 in the morning do on Friday nights.
Once upon a time there would have been exactly zero chance that I would not be at the bar by now, but those days are behind me.
I suppose that I could still hit a bar. I mean, there’s no law (except maybe Murphy’s) saying that I can’t go to a bar. After all, I’ve been to bars on numerous occasions since I quit drinking without any problems.
Still, those times I went with people, so there was something of a “safety net.”
Besides, apart from discovering that I could spend time in a bar without drinking on those occasions, I also discovered that I really didn’t enjoy it.
For me, being at a bar and not drinking is utterly pointless, and I don’t find it to be fun at all.
So that’s pretty much out.
Besides, the nearest bar (A sports bar, which only makes it that much less appealing) is a fair distance away, which, on a cold, rainy night like tonight would necessitate driving, and I really don’t feel like driving anywhere right now.
So I guess it’s an exciting evening alone at home for me.
That’s not really surprising, though. When I scheduled this weekend off I pretty much figured on not actually doing anything.
Still, there is that part of me deep down inside that’s railing against just how lame I’ve become, and I really feel like I should be doing something, though I’m sure that if I sit down long enough and do nothing, that feeling will just go away.
Fortunately I still have plenty of time left in which to do exactly that…
I'll believe that you can crap rainbows if it'll get me a diamond
I suppose that for people who know me it would be sort of surprising that I haven’t written anything about the holidays, since I often spend the holidays bitching about them.
While the mark of having once been one is as indelible as the scar on my left eye from the surgery I had when I was four, I am no longer a Christian.
I have no wife, girlfriend, or significant other of any kind, and I have no children.
All of the members of my family are thousands of miles away.
So for all of these reasons it seems pretty obvious that I would not be particularly inclined to celebrate Christmas or to be filled with the “Holiday Spirit.”
However, my attitude towards the holidays has mellowed a little over the years, and while I was never exactly a Scrooge or Grinch, I had formerly been more vehemently opposed to the existence of the holidays.
Now, with my slight softening, I still wish that I didn’t have to be constantly hit over the head with the “Spirit of the Season” every time I turn on the TV or set foot into the outside world, but I’ve come to accept the fact that it is an inevitability.
Scrooge and Grinch comparisons were never especially apt, anyway. Despite my personal distaste for the holiday, I’ve always continued to engage in gift-giving and I’ve never been inclined to ruin anyone else’s time.
Besides, apart from the fact that I don’t have green fur, there’s another major distinction between me and the Grinch: he actually owns a pet.
The fact of the matter is, though, when you’re on your own it can feel as though the period from Thanksgiving to Valentine’s Day is designed solely for the purpose of reminding you of that fact. It’s almost as if all of the advertisers have some sort of wager going on to see how many people they can get to kill themselves by February 14th, with a constant stream of images and jingles and ad copy that say, “You are alone and are therefore less valuable as a consumer, and as a human being. If you're not buying things, you're not worthwhile, and you're not buying anything because you have no one to buy things for, because you're not worthwhile. No one loves you. You're going to die alone anyway. Might as well get it over with."
So yeah, it gets a little irritating, and naturally I’m inclined to utter the occasional “Bah, humbug,” or something more forceful (and less gay), but overall I guess I’ve gotten used to it.
Even so, the commercials themselves, independent from the more depressing aspects, are often just plain annoying.
Among the most annoying, though they are edged out by Old Navy ads (though those are annoying year-round), are the jewelry commercials.
The one that bothers me the most is the one with the guy asking his wife/girlfriend/mistress if she believes in Santa Claus.
Okay, so who thinks the chick is going to say no? It’s frickin’ Christmas, so unless she’s a complete idiot she has to know that he’s leading up to giving her something, and since this is a diamond commercial, she knows it’s going to be expensive.
Here’s a tip; if she thinks it’ll get her a diamond a woman will tell you that she believes in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, or that swallowing really is good for her complexion.
The whole diamond thing, though, leads me to another issue: completely unrealistic “gift-giving guides.”
Every year different publications, morning TV news magazines, and Web portals put together these lists of the “gifts to get” that are utterly out of whack with reality.
They include items like the flavor-of-the-month notebook computer, iPods (or their equivalent), LCD and Plasma TVs, luxury vehicles and SUVs, and all manner of major purchases that cost hundreds, thousands, and even hundreds of thousands of dollars.
I guess my question about these gift guides are “Who are the people buying these things as gifts, and, more importantly, how do I get on their lists?”
But seriously, are there really people out there, apart from really, really rich people who don’t count as people, as they are, as mentioned, really, really rich people, who buy things like cars for each other?
Most people, I think, spend a couple of hundred dollars for their total shopping list. I really can’t believe that they’re going out and buying cars as gifts. Sure, maybe their taking advantage of the various deals offered at this time of year, but I see that as involving some actual discussion before making the purchase. I really doubt that anyone wakes up Christmas morning to discover that his or her spouse has parked a Jag outside with a bow on it.
Honestly, if I were married and discovered that my wife was cunning and deceitful enough to buy a luxury car without me noticing the hit to our finances, I’d really begin to wonder what else she’s managing to hide.
“Merry Christmas, honey, I bought you a Hummer! And speaking of Hummers, I’ve been giving your best friend Phil one three days a week for the past 10 years! Are you surprised? I’ll bet you’re surprised!”
But hey, I should put aside all of this negativity and surrender myself to the Spirit of the Season, right?
After all, this is the time of year that we all come together despite our differences and realize that no matter who we are, ultimately we all kneel before the same God, even though He takes many forms: Visa, American Express, MasterCard…
While the mark of having once been one is as indelible as the scar on my left eye from the surgery I had when I was four, I am no longer a Christian.
I have no wife, girlfriend, or significant other of any kind, and I have no children.
All of the members of my family are thousands of miles away.
So for all of these reasons it seems pretty obvious that I would not be particularly inclined to celebrate Christmas or to be filled with the “Holiday Spirit.”
However, my attitude towards the holidays has mellowed a little over the years, and while I was never exactly a Scrooge or Grinch, I had formerly been more vehemently opposed to the existence of the holidays.
Now, with my slight softening, I still wish that I didn’t have to be constantly hit over the head with the “Spirit of the Season” every time I turn on the TV or set foot into the outside world, but I’ve come to accept the fact that it is an inevitability.
Scrooge and Grinch comparisons were never especially apt, anyway. Despite my personal distaste for the holiday, I’ve always continued to engage in gift-giving and I’ve never been inclined to ruin anyone else’s time.
Besides, apart from the fact that I don’t have green fur, there’s another major distinction between me and the Grinch: he actually owns a pet.
The fact of the matter is, though, when you’re on your own it can feel as though the period from Thanksgiving to Valentine’s Day is designed solely for the purpose of reminding you of that fact. It’s almost as if all of the advertisers have some sort of wager going on to see how many people they can get to kill themselves by February 14th, with a constant stream of images and jingles and ad copy that say, “You are alone and are therefore less valuable as a consumer, and as a human being. If you're not buying things, you're not worthwhile, and you're not buying anything because you have no one to buy things for, because you're not worthwhile. No one loves you. You're going to die alone anyway. Might as well get it over with."
So yeah, it gets a little irritating, and naturally I’m inclined to utter the occasional “Bah, humbug,” or something more forceful (and less gay), but overall I guess I’ve gotten used to it.
Even so, the commercials themselves, independent from the more depressing aspects, are often just plain annoying.
Among the most annoying, though they are edged out by Old Navy ads (though those are annoying year-round), are the jewelry commercials.
The one that bothers me the most is the one with the guy asking his wife/girlfriend/mistress if she believes in Santa Claus.
Okay, so who thinks the chick is going to say no? It’s frickin’ Christmas, so unless she’s a complete idiot she has to know that he’s leading up to giving her something, and since this is a diamond commercial, she knows it’s going to be expensive.
Here’s a tip; if she thinks it’ll get her a diamond a woman will tell you that she believes in Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy, or that swallowing really is good for her complexion.
The whole diamond thing, though, leads me to another issue: completely unrealistic “gift-giving guides.”
Every year different publications, morning TV news magazines, and Web portals put together these lists of the “gifts to get” that are utterly out of whack with reality.
They include items like the flavor-of-the-month notebook computer, iPods (or their equivalent), LCD and Plasma TVs, luxury vehicles and SUVs, and all manner of major purchases that cost hundreds, thousands, and even hundreds of thousands of dollars.
I guess my question about these gift guides are “Who are the people buying these things as gifts, and, more importantly, how do I get on their lists?”
But seriously, are there really people out there, apart from really, really rich people who don’t count as people, as they are, as mentioned, really, really rich people, who buy things like cars for each other?
Most people, I think, spend a couple of hundred dollars for their total shopping list. I really can’t believe that they’re going out and buying cars as gifts. Sure, maybe their taking advantage of the various deals offered at this time of year, but I see that as involving some actual discussion before making the purchase. I really doubt that anyone wakes up Christmas morning to discover that his or her spouse has parked a Jag outside with a bow on it.
Honestly, if I were married and discovered that my wife was cunning and deceitful enough to buy a luxury car without me noticing the hit to our finances, I’d really begin to wonder what else she’s managing to hide.
“Merry Christmas, honey, I bought you a Hummer! And speaking of Hummers, I’ve been giving your best friend Phil one three days a week for the past 10 years! Are you surprised? I’ll bet you’re surprised!”
But hey, I should put aside all of this negativity and surrender myself to the Spirit of the Season, right?
After all, this is the time of year that we all come together despite our differences and realize that no matter who we are, ultimately we all kneel before the same God, even though He takes many forms: Visa, American Express, MasterCard…
Thursday, December 09, 2004
First new picture in quite a while
Here's a new Fontaine picture. I've done a similar image, in a different pose before, but I think I like this one better.
I may post some other edits of this one, as there are some tweaks to it that I've been playing around with, but overall I'd say this is a decent final image.
If you're curious, I used a picture of model/actress Ali Landry as the reference image.
RIP, Dimebag
Former Pantera guitarist "Dimebag" Darrell Abbott was shot and killed yesterday as he got on stage to perform with his new band Damageplan.
You can find details here:
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/pop/apmusic_story.asp?category=1403&slug=Obit%20Dimebag
I've never been very good at the whole "fan" thing, so even though I do like a lot of Panera's music, the fact that a man I didn't know has been killed isn't going to shatter my world the way it might for some people. However, I did admire him as a guitarist and I feel that this is a definite loss for the music industry, and I felt it was worth mentioning here.
Years ago when I lived in Minnesota, I knew some people who worked at a music store. One of the products they sold was a line of Dimebag Darrell guitars. As a promotional tool, the store featured some life-sized cardboard cut-out pictures of Dimebag.
One of the people I knew who worked there had been able to snag one and take it home, and while visiting on a night of drunkenness, myself and several others had our pictures taken with Dimebag.
While I am saddened by the thought that he's gone, I can't help but smile when I think that somewhere in the world there may very well be a picture of a drunken Jon pretending to sodomize a cardboard cut-out of him.
Okay, so it's not exactly a touching eulogy, and it's not really the way most of us would like to be remembered, but somehow I think he'd approve...
You can find details here:
http://seattlepi.nwsource.com/pop/apmusic_story.asp?category=1403&slug=Obit%20Dimebag
I've never been very good at the whole "fan" thing, so even though I do like a lot of Panera's music, the fact that a man I didn't know has been killed isn't going to shatter my world the way it might for some people. However, I did admire him as a guitarist and I feel that this is a definite loss for the music industry, and I felt it was worth mentioning here.
Years ago when I lived in Minnesota, I knew some people who worked at a music store. One of the products they sold was a line of Dimebag Darrell guitars. As a promotional tool, the store featured some life-sized cardboard cut-out pictures of Dimebag.
One of the people I knew who worked there had been able to snag one and take it home, and while visiting on a night of drunkenness, myself and several others had our pictures taken with Dimebag.
While I am saddened by the thought that he's gone, I can't help but smile when I think that somewhere in the world there may very well be a picture of a drunken Jon pretending to sodomize a cardboard cut-out of him.
Okay, so it's not exactly a touching eulogy, and it's not really the way most of us would like to be remembered, but somehow I think he'd approve...
Wednesday, December 08, 2004
Maybe "Y Not Me?" would be a better title
Much of my day has been spent reading a comic book entitled “Y, The Last Man.”
The idea is hardly a new one, but it’s still a rather entertaining story.
The idea in question? Some sort of plague strikes the earth, instantly killing every male on the planet.
Except one.
Actually, it’s two. Y (short for Yorick, but also a reference to the chromosome) is the only surviving human male. The other remaining male is Y’s pet monkey (No, the overt symbolism of a man and a monkey on their own in a world full of women was not lost on me), named Ampersand.
As I said, the basic idea is hardly anything new (Hey, in idle daydreams I was the last man left on earth like at least five times today, and that was before I started reading the comic), but there are some interesting twists, though some of them aren’t so much “twists” as they are logical extensions of the basic idea.
For example, this mysterious plague not only wiped out all of the human males on the planet, it affected the entire animal kingdom (With the obvious exceptions of Y and Ampersand [Y&Ampersand? Y and &?? Y & &???], of course), and actually caused all the sperm in the world to also die, along with any male fetuses that happened to be gestating at the time.
As things stand at present in the story, neither the cause of the plague nor the reason that Y & Ampersand survived have been revealed, though there have been several guesses and possible clues.
Since this is a title published by DC’s “Vertigo” line of books, which has been home to titles such as “The Sandman,” “Preacher,” and “Hellblazer,” and essentially every edgy, dark-themed “adult” comic DC publishes, Y’s life isn’t exactly the kind of cushy never-ending sex-fest that a man might hope for.
In fact, that’s one of the things that set Y apart: despite the fact that he can, he actually has no interest in having such a life.
Okay, so the obvious conclusion is that Y must be gay, right?
Wrong. He’s just very much in love with his girlfriend (and possible fiancée; all hell broke loose before he could actually get an answer from her) who’s stranded on the other side of the world, and he has no interest in betraying his love for her.
So Y is clearly not gay.
He’s just a pussy.
KIDDING! I admire Y’s devotion to his true love (*cough* Total pussy! *cough*), and can only imagine what a hellish torment life must be for him.
Honestly, though, all sarcasm aside, Y’s life isn’t exactly a happy frolic through the Garden of Earthly Delights as he makes his way across an America that has fallen into chaos (Hey, say what you want about how much men suck; the fact of the matter is that the world would fall to pieces if we all just dropped dead without warning and it would take a long time to recover.) in the company of a spy and a geneticist, who might actually be responsible for the death of all the males, in a bid to get to said geneticist’s lab in order to see if the DNA of the only surviving males can help to stave off extinction.
Obviously along the way they have all sorts of wacky (and deadly) misadventures (Or would that be “miss” adventures? Ms. adventures? Sorry, couldn’t resist the pun.).
As I said, it’s an entertaining story, and was a good way to while away the afternoon.
The stories of my character Fontaine, whose image has graced Threshold many times, are predicated on a very similar idea, though in the case of Fontaine’s world men are not extinct, there just aren’t nearly as many, and the “plague” that caused the male population to dwindle didn’t result in sudden deaths as it did in “Y.”
This of course gives women much more opportunity to adapt and to step into the roles that more typically had fallen to men, and also rendered some traditionally male occupations obsolete.
Still, Fontaine’s world, much like Y’s, is hardly some sort of estrogen-fueled utopia, and has plenty of strife, especially as women begin to step into roles that they hadn’t expected they would have to, or, more importantly, would choose to.
Of course, in the case of myself and the Fontaine stories, exploring the dynamics of gender roles and the mechanics of rebuilding and maintaining civilization were secondary considerations, as my principal motivation for eliminating most of the male population was to ensure that the stories would have plenty of hot girl on girl action.
As for the rest of my day, I was due for a workout, but felt ill-equipped for the task (read: I was too damn lazy), so I ended up engaging in something of a brief “compromise” workout, which consisted of doing about half of my usual routine and tacking on a brief interval workout on the treadmill.
Something, I suppose, is better than nothing.
I’m not sure what I’ll do this weekend as far as working out goes, since I won’t be working and will therefore have no reason to get up an hour early to head in and make use of the facilities there.
Maybe I’ll engage in another half-assed attempt like today, but more likely I’ll just be totally lazy and not do anything, ultimately failing to get back into any sort of routine until I finally head back to work.
That’s not the plan, but things seldom work out as I plan them, which is why I so seldom make plans…
As for the rest of the day, the other major component of it involved making tacos.
In preparation for such, I picked up the necessary components yesterday morning when I went grocery shopping, including, since I knew the container I had in my refrigerator had long since gone bad, some sour cream.
When I got home from shopping yesterday and after I had tossed the makings of last night’s dinner into the crock pot, I did a bit of cleaning, which included taking out the trash. Since I had bought a replacement container of sour cream, I made sure to finally toss out the old, as I had been neglecting to do for some time.
Today, as I got everything in readiness for my taco dinner, I reached for the sour cream and thought, “Hmm, I didn’t buy ‘Land O’ Lakes’ sour cream yesterday, did I?”
The significance of this question fully dawned on me even before I picked up the container of sour cream and confirmed that I had thrown away the new and kept the old.
At that point I swore a couple of times, but soon realized that it was actually pretty funny and laughed.
I then proceeded to eat my tacos sans sour cream.
Ultimately the day never got any more exciting than that, and there are still 8 days off ahead of me…
The idea is hardly a new one, but it’s still a rather entertaining story.
The idea in question? Some sort of plague strikes the earth, instantly killing every male on the planet.
Except one.
Actually, it’s two. Y (short for Yorick, but also a reference to the chromosome) is the only surviving human male. The other remaining male is Y’s pet monkey (No, the overt symbolism of a man and a monkey on their own in a world full of women was not lost on me), named Ampersand.
As I said, the basic idea is hardly anything new (Hey, in idle daydreams I was the last man left on earth like at least five times today, and that was before I started reading the comic), but there are some interesting twists, though some of them aren’t so much “twists” as they are logical extensions of the basic idea.
For example, this mysterious plague not only wiped out all of the human males on the planet, it affected the entire animal kingdom (With the obvious exceptions of Y and Ampersand [Y&Ampersand? Y and &?? Y & &???], of course), and actually caused all the sperm in the world to also die, along with any male fetuses that happened to be gestating at the time.
As things stand at present in the story, neither the cause of the plague nor the reason that Y & Ampersand survived have been revealed, though there have been several guesses and possible clues.
Since this is a title published by DC’s “Vertigo” line of books, which has been home to titles such as “The Sandman,” “Preacher,” and “Hellblazer,” and essentially every edgy, dark-themed “adult” comic DC publishes, Y’s life isn’t exactly the kind of cushy never-ending sex-fest that a man might hope for.
In fact, that’s one of the things that set Y apart: despite the fact that he can, he actually has no interest in having such a life.
Okay, so the obvious conclusion is that Y must be gay, right?
Wrong. He’s just very much in love with his girlfriend (and possible fiancée; all hell broke loose before he could actually get an answer from her) who’s stranded on the other side of the world, and he has no interest in betraying his love for her.
So Y is clearly not gay.
He’s just a pussy.
KIDDING! I admire Y’s devotion to his true love (*cough* Total pussy! *cough*), and can only imagine what a hellish torment life must be for him.
Honestly, though, all sarcasm aside, Y’s life isn’t exactly a happy frolic through the Garden of Earthly Delights as he makes his way across an America that has fallen into chaos (Hey, say what you want about how much men suck; the fact of the matter is that the world would fall to pieces if we all just dropped dead without warning and it would take a long time to recover.) in the company of a spy and a geneticist, who might actually be responsible for the death of all the males, in a bid to get to said geneticist’s lab in order to see if the DNA of the only surviving males can help to stave off extinction.
Obviously along the way they have all sorts of wacky (and deadly) misadventures (Or would that be “miss” adventures? Ms. adventures? Sorry, couldn’t resist the pun.).
As I said, it’s an entertaining story, and was a good way to while away the afternoon.
The stories of my character Fontaine, whose image has graced Threshold many times, are predicated on a very similar idea, though in the case of Fontaine’s world men are not extinct, there just aren’t nearly as many, and the “plague” that caused the male population to dwindle didn’t result in sudden deaths as it did in “Y.”
This of course gives women much more opportunity to adapt and to step into the roles that more typically had fallen to men, and also rendered some traditionally male occupations obsolete.
Still, Fontaine’s world, much like Y’s, is hardly some sort of estrogen-fueled utopia, and has plenty of strife, especially as women begin to step into roles that they hadn’t expected they would have to, or, more importantly, would choose to.
Of course, in the case of myself and the Fontaine stories, exploring the dynamics of gender roles and the mechanics of rebuilding and maintaining civilization were secondary considerations, as my principal motivation for eliminating most of the male population was to ensure that the stories would have plenty of hot girl on girl action.
As for the rest of my day, I was due for a workout, but felt ill-equipped for the task (read: I was too damn lazy), so I ended up engaging in something of a brief “compromise” workout, which consisted of doing about half of my usual routine and tacking on a brief interval workout on the treadmill.
Something, I suppose, is better than nothing.
I’m not sure what I’ll do this weekend as far as working out goes, since I won’t be working and will therefore have no reason to get up an hour early to head in and make use of the facilities there.
Maybe I’ll engage in another half-assed attempt like today, but more likely I’ll just be totally lazy and not do anything, ultimately failing to get back into any sort of routine until I finally head back to work.
That’s not the plan, but things seldom work out as I plan them, which is why I so seldom make plans…
As for the rest of the day, the other major component of it involved making tacos.
In preparation for such, I picked up the necessary components yesterday morning when I went grocery shopping, including, since I knew the container I had in my refrigerator had long since gone bad, some sour cream.
When I got home from shopping yesterday and after I had tossed the makings of last night’s dinner into the crock pot, I did a bit of cleaning, which included taking out the trash. Since I had bought a replacement container of sour cream, I made sure to finally toss out the old, as I had been neglecting to do for some time.
Today, as I got everything in readiness for my taco dinner, I reached for the sour cream and thought, “Hmm, I didn’t buy ‘Land O’ Lakes’ sour cream yesterday, did I?”
The significance of this question fully dawned on me even before I picked up the container of sour cream and confirmed that I had thrown away the new and kept the old.
At that point I swore a couple of times, but soon realized that it was actually pretty funny and laughed.
I then proceeded to eat my tacos sans sour cream.
Ultimately the day never got any more exciting than that, and there are still 8 days off ahead of me…
Tuesday, December 07, 2004
Infamy, Not Stepping Through the Wardrobe, and Familiarity Breeds Contempt
While it’s surprisingly warm for December, the weather here is just generally crappy, and is well-suited to the whole “living in infamy” theme that was set for today’s date so many years ago.
The day started out with a phone call from Scott informing me that I still have a job, which was good news, as the company I work for announced hundreds of layoffs today. I was glad that I was not among those who lost their jobs, but my sympathies go out to all of my colleagues who were not so fortunate.
We’ve known they were coming for a while, but there was still a lot of speculation as to who would be cut.
Now we know.
The timing of the layoffs is particularly shitty, and officially announcing them today also adds to the general sense of infamy.
After calling my mother to let her know that I was still among the ranks of the gainfully employed I showered and headed out to do some grocery shopping.
I got home and was in the middle of cutting up some round steak for today’s culinary adventure (Crock Pot Round Steak) when my mother called back. I had woken her when I’d called earlier, as she and my dad are now in Tucson for the winter and are two hours behind, so she decided to call me back once she was actually awake.
While I was talking to my mother I got a beep, which brought the number of phone calls in one day to near-record levels for me.
It was Kathleen calling to see if I’d gotten the call about the layoffs and inviting me to go for a ride with her out to some consignment store, as she didn’t feel like making the trip alone and Brian is ill today.
She had brought some things out to be sold at the consignment store a while back and was heading there to pick up the items that hadn’t been sold and to get paid for those that had, and to drop off some other things to sell.
This took a while, so I wandered throughout the store looking at the various kinds of crap that they were selling for far too much money.
The only thing that really caught my eye was a complete set of C.S. Lewis’ “Narnia” books, but they were in pretty rough shape, so I ultimately decided to pass.
There was a very cute young girl working there, though once again, in the same depressing fashion as my Outback experience, my eyes kept being drawn to the fairly attractive older woman.
After Kathleen and I finished there we stopped for a slice of pizza, then headed back.
At the very least it was an interesting change of pace from sitting around doing nothing, or, as I was also considering, cleaning my apartment.
I watched two fairly interesting things on TV last night.
The first was something called “My Coolest Years” on VH1, which featured various actors, musicians, and comedians reminiscing about their high school years. That alone was not especially interesting, but they had an episode of it that focused specifically on people who had been metal heads in high school. Having been one myself, it was sort of entertaining to watch.
There were definitely some things that I could relate to, but overall it wasn’t especially representative of my own experiences.
For one thing, I didn’t really drink that much during that particular period of my life, and I was never a pothead.
But the major element of my life that prevents virtually all of my high school memories from resembling anything like the vision presented on TV and in movies, or in the recollections of other people is the fact that I’m from a very small rural community.
And when I say very small, I don’t mean just a couple thousand people. The town I grew up in had a population of around 110 people.
A few years ago I was discussing the “American Pie” movies with a friend who, expecting me to agree with his assessment, asked "Aren't they exactly like how it was in high school?"
I said, “No, not even a little bit.”
My high school was extremely small. I believe there were 32 students in my graduating class, and that was rather on the large side for my school.
Also, my high school was generally looked down upon throughout the area, so that combined with the small size helped to keep the school from developing the sort of sharp divisions that you find in a typical movie high school. There were definite cliques, but in general we had the sense that we were all in the same boat: we all went to Jeffers, so we were all basically losers.
The small size also necessitated inter-clique interactions. Jocks associated with nerds and burnouts as much as they did with anyone else, particularly since, with a student body of about 200, it was easily possible to know everyone, and the athletic teams couldn't really afford to be exclusive, so pretty much anyone could join. It was the same with the cheerleading squads.
I myself crossed several social boundaries: I was a “brain,” but I was also a metal head, and I smoked, so I spent my lunch hours hanging around with the burnouts.
Still, while I wasn’t the kind of social pariah or target for ridicule and abuse that I might have been at a larger school, I tended not to socialize much and had only one real friend throughout my high school years.
The fact that I wasn’t really inclined to socialize was exacerbated by the fact that I was pretty much an outsider. After all, I lived 20 miles away. Kids from my neck of the woods (some of us literally lived in the woods) went to our own local school from Kindergarten through 8th grade, so by the time we started high school we were at a distinct disadvantage, as most of the other students had known each other for years and we were all “the new kids.”
We did have the benefit of the assistance of those kids from our area who had gone there before us, but it was still a difficult transition to make, particularly, as in my case, when it involved going from a class that consisted of me and one other person to a class of me and 31 other people.
Of course, my K-8 experiences hadn’t been pleasant either, so I didn’t really have any friends from my own town, and eventually I grew to hate most of the new people I was forced to spend so many hours of the day with, so I became even more withdrawn.
So given that I didn’t really like anyone and that I lived 20 miles away from virtually everyone I went to school with and didn’t have a car of my own, I had largely gotten the partying thing out of my system before high school, thanks to frequent weekend visits to my older sister’s apartment while she was in college, my high school years bore little to no resemblance to John Hughes films or the “American Pie” movies.
As for my life out in the sticks, there really wasn’t much to do. The nearest mall was 30 miles away, so I spent most of my time in my room listening to music, drawing pictures of demons and heavy metal album covers, reading (I spent the majority of my time reading. I’d read on the bus ride to school, during study hall, between classes, at lunch time [when I wasn’t smoking] and on the bus ride home), and occasionally writing.
And as for dating, my girlfriend went to a different high school and lived 45 miles away. I spent a lot of weekends at her parents’ house, and she spent a lot of weekends at mine.
It was expensive for us to call each other (in-state long distance is pricey), so I could only call her once a week for 10 minutes. She played basketball and was a cheerleader, though, so I could usually talk my dad into going to the games when her school played mine.
Living in the middle of nowhere and having no job or car also kept me from being able to make it to any decent metal concerts. I never really hit a metal concert until college (and after).
So basically the only things I could relate to in the VH1 show were the hair, some of the clothes, and the one comment one of the guys made about how metal heads typically spent their time hanging out “around corners and behind stuff.”
That part was pretty funny, and was very true.
The other thing that I watched that was interesting was “The Whole Wide World,” which is a movie I’ve been trying to see for a number of years without actually actively seeking it out.
It stars Renee Zellweger and Vincent D’Onofrio and tells the story of the relationship between a schoolteacher named Novelyne Price and writer Robert E. Howard, creator of “Conan.”
There were very strong performances by both Zellweger and D’Onofrio, though I was disappointed by the fact that, since it was based on Novelyne’s memoirs, it didn’t focus as much on Howard as I might have liked. In particular, we didn’t get to see much about his suicide, though of course Novalyne wasn’t privy to that, so it only makes sense.
Still, I enjoyed the movie a great deal.
For those of you who don’t know, Robert E. Howard was a profoundly troubled man with a morbid attachment to his mother.
It was quite literally a “morbid” attachment; when he discovered that his mother was not going to recover from the illness that had afflicted her, Howard shot himself. He was only 30.
I’ve read all of Howard’s Conan stories, as well as the various adaptations in the comics and the stories written by later authors based on his notes and unfinished stories, as well as the later, completely original works by writers such as Robert Jordan. Indeed, at one point I even started writing a Conan novel of my own.
I’ve also read several of Howard’s non-Conan stories, such as “Swordswoman,” a character very similar to his “Red Sonja” character.
I suppose that I’ve always been somewhat fascinated by Howard’s life (and death). Honestly, the whole reason that I chose to submit a short story to “Weird Tales” (still haven’t heard anything on that, by the way, so I think it’s safe to assume that my submission was rejected) was because the pulp that served as the namesake for this current incarnation was where most of Howard’s work was published.
I read somewhere once that when he wrote, Howard felt this presence standing behind him, some pre-Christian, primal force that actually dictated the stories to him, and he didn’t dare stop writing or look behind him for fear that this barbarous spirit would chop his head off.
Finally, when he completed the story and would slump exhausted in front of the typewriter the presence would leave.
Crazy? Of course, but I certainly could benefit from having a similar psychosis pop up behind me…
What was most compelling to me about the movie was just how much I could relate to D’Onofrio’s portrayal of Howard.
No, I’m nowhere near as crazy or as attached to my mother, but there was this definite awkwardness and an inability to fully relate to his fellow human beings that felt awfully familiar.
And while there is no one, and has been no one, in my life comparable to Novalyne Price, it was very easy to relate to the way that Howard’s eccentricities and issues caused him to drive away the chance he had at actually finding the happiness that he was looking for.
That I could relate in some fashion to what was being presented in the cathodes last night was something of a recurring theme.
I kept seeing things that looked familiar, my inability to relate to much of the high school stuff notwithstanding, and in most cases I really didn’t like what I saw.
On two episodes of “Blind Date” I saw three guys whose bitterness and loneliness manifested themselves in personality defects (never being serious and being too judgmental, to name a few), and while I’m not in exactly the same boat, since I’m not event going on dates, my own tendency to be withdrawn and the fact that I not only don’t seek out human contact I actively avoid it prevents me from even getting the chance to screw things up on a date.
But the fact that I recognize these things doesn’t mean that I’m going to do anything to change them (or that I would even know how, or where to begin), so really it just served to make me feel uncomfortable, as if I weren’t able to make myself feel uncomfortable without TV’s help…
The day started out with a phone call from Scott informing me that I still have a job, which was good news, as the company I work for announced hundreds of layoffs today. I was glad that I was not among those who lost their jobs, but my sympathies go out to all of my colleagues who were not so fortunate.
We’ve known they were coming for a while, but there was still a lot of speculation as to who would be cut.
Now we know.
The timing of the layoffs is particularly shitty, and officially announcing them today also adds to the general sense of infamy.
After calling my mother to let her know that I was still among the ranks of the gainfully employed I showered and headed out to do some grocery shopping.
I got home and was in the middle of cutting up some round steak for today’s culinary adventure (Crock Pot Round Steak) when my mother called back. I had woken her when I’d called earlier, as she and my dad are now in Tucson for the winter and are two hours behind, so she decided to call me back once she was actually awake.
While I was talking to my mother I got a beep, which brought the number of phone calls in one day to near-record levels for me.
It was Kathleen calling to see if I’d gotten the call about the layoffs and inviting me to go for a ride with her out to some consignment store, as she didn’t feel like making the trip alone and Brian is ill today.
She had brought some things out to be sold at the consignment store a while back and was heading there to pick up the items that hadn’t been sold and to get paid for those that had, and to drop off some other things to sell.
This took a while, so I wandered throughout the store looking at the various kinds of crap that they were selling for far too much money.
The only thing that really caught my eye was a complete set of C.S. Lewis’ “Narnia” books, but they were in pretty rough shape, so I ultimately decided to pass.
There was a very cute young girl working there, though once again, in the same depressing fashion as my Outback experience, my eyes kept being drawn to the fairly attractive older woman.
After Kathleen and I finished there we stopped for a slice of pizza, then headed back.
At the very least it was an interesting change of pace from sitting around doing nothing, or, as I was also considering, cleaning my apartment.
I watched two fairly interesting things on TV last night.
The first was something called “My Coolest Years” on VH1, which featured various actors, musicians, and comedians reminiscing about their high school years. That alone was not especially interesting, but they had an episode of it that focused specifically on people who had been metal heads in high school. Having been one myself, it was sort of entertaining to watch.
There were definitely some things that I could relate to, but overall it wasn’t especially representative of my own experiences.
For one thing, I didn’t really drink that much during that particular period of my life, and I was never a pothead.
But the major element of my life that prevents virtually all of my high school memories from resembling anything like the vision presented on TV and in movies, or in the recollections of other people is the fact that I’m from a very small rural community.
And when I say very small, I don’t mean just a couple thousand people. The town I grew up in had a population of around 110 people.
A few years ago I was discussing the “American Pie” movies with a friend who, expecting me to agree with his assessment, asked "Aren't they exactly like how it was in high school?"
I said, “No, not even a little bit.”
My high school was extremely small. I believe there were 32 students in my graduating class, and that was rather on the large side for my school.
Also, my high school was generally looked down upon throughout the area, so that combined with the small size helped to keep the school from developing the sort of sharp divisions that you find in a typical movie high school. There were definite cliques, but in general we had the sense that we were all in the same boat: we all went to Jeffers, so we were all basically losers.
The small size also necessitated inter-clique interactions. Jocks associated with nerds and burnouts as much as they did with anyone else, particularly since, with a student body of about 200, it was easily possible to know everyone, and the athletic teams couldn't really afford to be exclusive, so pretty much anyone could join. It was the same with the cheerleading squads.
I myself crossed several social boundaries: I was a “brain,” but I was also a metal head, and I smoked, so I spent my lunch hours hanging around with the burnouts.
Still, while I wasn’t the kind of social pariah or target for ridicule and abuse that I might have been at a larger school, I tended not to socialize much and had only one real friend throughout my high school years.
The fact that I wasn’t really inclined to socialize was exacerbated by the fact that I was pretty much an outsider. After all, I lived 20 miles away. Kids from my neck of the woods (some of us literally lived in the woods) went to our own local school from Kindergarten through 8th grade, so by the time we started high school we were at a distinct disadvantage, as most of the other students had known each other for years and we were all “the new kids.”
We did have the benefit of the assistance of those kids from our area who had gone there before us, but it was still a difficult transition to make, particularly, as in my case, when it involved going from a class that consisted of me and one other person to a class of me and 31 other people.
Of course, my K-8 experiences hadn’t been pleasant either, so I didn’t really have any friends from my own town, and eventually I grew to hate most of the new people I was forced to spend so many hours of the day with, so I became even more withdrawn.
So given that I didn’t really like anyone and that I lived 20 miles away from virtually everyone I went to school with and didn’t have a car of my own, I had largely gotten the partying thing out of my system before high school, thanks to frequent weekend visits to my older sister’s apartment while she was in college, my high school years bore little to no resemblance to John Hughes films or the “American Pie” movies.
As for my life out in the sticks, there really wasn’t much to do. The nearest mall was 30 miles away, so I spent most of my time in my room listening to music, drawing pictures of demons and heavy metal album covers, reading (I spent the majority of my time reading. I’d read on the bus ride to school, during study hall, between classes, at lunch time [when I wasn’t smoking] and on the bus ride home), and occasionally writing.
And as for dating, my girlfriend went to a different high school and lived 45 miles away. I spent a lot of weekends at her parents’ house, and she spent a lot of weekends at mine.
It was expensive for us to call each other (in-state long distance is pricey), so I could only call her once a week for 10 minutes. She played basketball and was a cheerleader, though, so I could usually talk my dad into going to the games when her school played mine.
Living in the middle of nowhere and having no job or car also kept me from being able to make it to any decent metal concerts. I never really hit a metal concert until college (and after).
So basically the only things I could relate to in the VH1 show were the hair, some of the clothes, and the one comment one of the guys made about how metal heads typically spent their time hanging out “around corners and behind stuff.”
That part was pretty funny, and was very true.
The other thing that I watched that was interesting was “The Whole Wide World,” which is a movie I’ve been trying to see for a number of years without actually actively seeking it out.
It stars Renee Zellweger and Vincent D’Onofrio and tells the story of the relationship between a schoolteacher named Novelyne Price and writer Robert E. Howard, creator of “Conan.”
There were very strong performances by both Zellweger and D’Onofrio, though I was disappointed by the fact that, since it was based on Novelyne’s memoirs, it didn’t focus as much on Howard as I might have liked. In particular, we didn’t get to see much about his suicide, though of course Novalyne wasn’t privy to that, so it only makes sense.
Still, I enjoyed the movie a great deal.
For those of you who don’t know, Robert E. Howard was a profoundly troubled man with a morbid attachment to his mother.
It was quite literally a “morbid” attachment; when he discovered that his mother was not going to recover from the illness that had afflicted her, Howard shot himself. He was only 30.
I’ve read all of Howard’s Conan stories, as well as the various adaptations in the comics and the stories written by later authors based on his notes and unfinished stories, as well as the later, completely original works by writers such as Robert Jordan. Indeed, at one point I even started writing a Conan novel of my own.
I’ve also read several of Howard’s non-Conan stories, such as “Swordswoman,” a character very similar to his “Red Sonja” character.
I suppose that I’ve always been somewhat fascinated by Howard’s life (and death). Honestly, the whole reason that I chose to submit a short story to “Weird Tales” (still haven’t heard anything on that, by the way, so I think it’s safe to assume that my submission was rejected) was because the pulp that served as the namesake for this current incarnation was where most of Howard’s work was published.
I read somewhere once that when he wrote, Howard felt this presence standing behind him, some pre-Christian, primal force that actually dictated the stories to him, and he didn’t dare stop writing or look behind him for fear that this barbarous spirit would chop his head off.
Finally, when he completed the story and would slump exhausted in front of the typewriter the presence would leave.
Crazy? Of course, but I certainly could benefit from having a similar psychosis pop up behind me…
What was most compelling to me about the movie was just how much I could relate to D’Onofrio’s portrayal of Howard.
No, I’m nowhere near as crazy or as attached to my mother, but there was this definite awkwardness and an inability to fully relate to his fellow human beings that felt awfully familiar.
And while there is no one, and has been no one, in my life comparable to Novalyne Price, it was very easy to relate to the way that Howard’s eccentricities and issues caused him to drive away the chance he had at actually finding the happiness that he was looking for.
That I could relate in some fashion to what was being presented in the cathodes last night was something of a recurring theme.
I kept seeing things that looked familiar, my inability to relate to much of the high school stuff notwithstanding, and in most cases I really didn’t like what I saw.
On two episodes of “Blind Date” I saw three guys whose bitterness and loneliness manifested themselves in personality defects (never being serious and being too judgmental, to name a few), and while I’m not in exactly the same boat, since I’m not event going on dates, my own tendency to be withdrawn and the fact that I not only don’t seek out human contact I actively avoid it prevents me from even getting the chance to screw things up on a date.
But the fact that I recognize these things doesn’t mean that I’m going to do anything to change them (or that I would even know how, or where to begin), so really it just served to make me feel uncomfortable, as if I weren’t able to make myself feel uncomfortable without TV’s help…
Monday, December 06, 2004
Wasted days
Once again it’s Monday and I’m faced with a significant number of days off.
The number in question this time, though, is even more significant, as I’m taking vacation this coming weekend.
I’m not actually going anywhere, and I don’t have any plans, I just needed to burn some of my accumulated vacation time, as only 40 hours will carry over into the next year.
So here I am with even more time on my hands than usual and nothing in particular to do with the time.
Last night on the way home from work I stopped to eat at the Outback with Brian and Kathleen.
While we were at work Kathleen, Scott, and I had been discussing the various methods that men use to talk their significant others into giving them the go-ahead to make major purchases. I had mentioned that my approach, when such a thing had been a necessity in my life, was to engage in a gradual and methodical campaign of persuasion, and that if I’d had it available to me back then I would have been likely to put together a Power Point presentation.
Everyone got a laugh about that, but we got an even bigger laugh later on when Brian actually made a Power Point presentation explaining to Kathleen why they should go to Outback for dinner.
Because it was funny, Kathleen had no choice but to give in, and everyone else was asked to join in, but I ended up being the only one to take them up on it.
While I was there I noticed that there were several cute waitresses and a very attractive young woman whom I guess would be the “hostess” or something along those lines.
Of course, we were actually waited on by a guy. That invariably happens to me at any business; there can be dozens of hot female employees and I’ll end up having to interact with the one guy working there.
Still, there was one thing that was even more depressing than that.
There was a teenaged girl sitting at one of the other tables. She was 16, maybe 17 at the most. Being human, and more specifically, a human male, I can’t help but notice if someone is attractive, even if she happens to be a teenager.
What keeps me from being a total creep is the fact that I don’t do anything about noticing.
In this case, though, that’s all entirely irrelevant as the fact of the matter was that I was actually checking out her mom.
As few as five years ago I doubt that would have been the case. Still, considering that I was undoubtedly much closer to the mother’s age than the daughter’s, it only makes sense.
But that doesn’t keep it from being depressing.
If I have to be old, I want to be a dirty old man, dammit!
*Sigh*
Today was rather uneventful.
I got up, called my mom, took a nap, got up again.
I continue to have difficulties burning DVDs, but discovered that I can successfully burn them if I use a rewritable. It figures that the only real solution to the problem I have is to buy something more expensive…
I typically don’t cook on Mondays, and today was no exception.
A new restaurant opened in town recently and they had sent out a coupon for 10% off and a free appetizer, so I walked over to check it out.
The food (sort of general “Asian” cuisine) was very good, but since it is a new restaurant, and I went there a little on the early side, there was no one else there, so the owners and staff were kind of hovering.
But as I said, the food was good. I doubt that I’ll head back there anytime soon, though, simply because I so seldom go out to eat. The only reason I went today was the coupon (which had to be used by Wednesday), and the new-ness.
In any case, I need to try to figure out exactly how I’m going to spend my remaining days off. I’m certain that there will plenty of progress reports here…
The number in question this time, though, is even more significant, as I’m taking vacation this coming weekend.
I’m not actually going anywhere, and I don’t have any plans, I just needed to burn some of my accumulated vacation time, as only 40 hours will carry over into the next year.
So here I am with even more time on my hands than usual and nothing in particular to do with the time.
Last night on the way home from work I stopped to eat at the Outback with Brian and Kathleen.
While we were at work Kathleen, Scott, and I had been discussing the various methods that men use to talk their significant others into giving them the go-ahead to make major purchases. I had mentioned that my approach, when such a thing had been a necessity in my life, was to engage in a gradual and methodical campaign of persuasion, and that if I’d had it available to me back then I would have been likely to put together a Power Point presentation.
Everyone got a laugh about that, but we got an even bigger laugh later on when Brian actually made a Power Point presentation explaining to Kathleen why they should go to Outback for dinner.
Because it was funny, Kathleen had no choice but to give in, and everyone else was asked to join in, but I ended up being the only one to take them up on it.
While I was there I noticed that there were several cute waitresses and a very attractive young woman whom I guess would be the “hostess” or something along those lines.
Of course, we were actually waited on by a guy. That invariably happens to me at any business; there can be dozens of hot female employees and I’ll end up having to interact with the one guy working there.
Still, there was one thing that was even more depressing than that.
There was a teenaged girl sitting at one of the other tables. She was 16, maybe 17 at the most. Being human, and more specifically, a human male, I can’t help but notice if someone is attractive, even if she happens to be a teenager.
What keeps me from being a total creep is the fact that I don’t do anything about noticing.
In this case, though, that’s all entirely irrelevant as the fact of the matter was that I was actually checking out her mom.
As few as five years ago I doubt that would have been the case. Still, considering that I was undoubtedly much closer to the mother’s age than the daughter’s, it only makes sense.
But that doesn’t keep it from being depressing.
If I have to be old, I want to be a dirty old man, dammit!
*Sigh*
Today was rather uneventful.
I got up, called my mom, took a nap, got up again.
I continue to have difficulties burning DVDs, but discovered that I can successfully burn them if I use a rewritable. It figures that the only real solution to the problem I have is to buy something more expensive…
I typically don’t cook on Mondays, and today was no exception.
A new restaurant opened in town recently and they had sent out a coupon for 10% off and a free appetizer, so I walked over to check it out.
The food (sort of general “Asian” cuisine) was very good, but since it is a new restaurant, and I went there a little on the early side, there was no one else there, so the owners and staff were kind of hovering.
But as I said, the food was good. I doubt that I’ll head back there anytime soon, though, simply because I so seldom go out to eat. The only reason I went today was the coupon (which had to be used by Wednesday), and the new-ness.
In any case, I need to try to figure out exactly how I’m going to spend my remaining days off. I’m certain that there will plenty of progress reports here…
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