Boo! Did I scare ya?

Happy freaky-night! Drink lots of water to prep the body for the mass influx of unhealthy empty carbs and you'll be just peachy.

For those of you who care, Dad is doing fine physically. Mentally he is also doing welll; his cognitive functions are all intact, as well as logic and reasoning. This, of course, is becoming frustrating for him as he is more and more aware that he can't remember from one moment to the next. But, it is a sign of improvement. Thank goodness for his genetically-ingrained sense of humor - I think I'll have to bury him before that ever goes away, and even then I'm sure I'll carry most of it on ;)~

Work is insane, but I have a promising lead for another (far superior) job much closer to home so cross your digital fingers for me!

When things settle (HA!), I'll get back to my normal thought-provoking commentary on life. I'm sure I'll have a number of notes to make by then.

Well...shit.

WARNING: SIGNIFICANT AMOUNTS OF UNREPENTANT SWEARING AHEAD!

I apologize - I know I've been a shitty blogger lately. It's just with trying to find a new job and all, I've been a little distracted.

Then my dad goes and has a stroke to make things simpler. No, not of genius, just a stroke.

Fuck.

It could have been worse; relatively speaking it was a tiny one, confined to a very tiny spot in the brain, no bleeding, no physical imparement, probably (no, definately) brought on by his diabetes.

Unfortunately, the very tiny spot of his brain that it landed on was his short term memory. Was. As in, past tense. As in, it's  gone for now on a vacation of undetermined duration. Which means a number of terrible things:

1. He'll need 24/7 care lest he not take his medication, take too much medication (thinking he hadn't taken it yet), go for a walk and forget where he is, forget that he can't drive now and get behind the wheel, leave the stove on, etc.

2. I don't know how to get him this care that he'll need. My step-mom can't do it, she's been caring for her special-needs daughter for 50 years now and it hasn't gotten any easier in the last few months.

3. This is the hardest part for me: I don't know how many times I'm going to have to tell him what happend, and every time I do I know he's going to feel like shooting himself for becoming a burden.

The doctor said he should recover, but how long it will take is unknown. My stepmom and I plan on blasting him with as many alternative-medicine methods as we can find while they run more tests, but who knows...

If anyone has any advice, I'm all ears. I'm new to this - my Grandmother (Dad's mom)  lost her mind around 88-ish, but I was in another part of the state and didn't have to deal with the day-to-day things, like my dad did, like he knows (at least every time I tell him what happened) I'll have to now that this has occurred.

You just don't plan for this fucking shit. No one ever thinks, "yeah I'll get married, finish school, start my career, then right as I'm getting off the ground, I'll take care of my dad when he has a stroke that makes his memory fade to black every three minutes." 

I'm a pretty well-balanced person, so I'm feeling a large mix of well-balanced, kick you in the balls emotions and I don't much care for any of them. My father is a good man. He acts like a teenager and as a result is here in this position, but he is a good man. I love him and telling him what happened is getting more and more painful as he becomes more and more lucid. Who knows, maybe that's a good sign.

To all my readers: take care of your health. Please, for if not for your sake then for those who would watch you after something like this.

Wish me luck.

Fuck...

Shit...

Yukon, HO! Well, not quite THAT far...

Ah, the trees, the crisp mountain air, the distinct lack of a porcelain seat upon which to read and deposit biological waste, the paranoid shaking of boots and sleeping bags to ensure that nothing carnivorous or poisonous has made a home there...

Yes, that’s right, it’s camping time! I am going camping this weekend for the first time in…in…crap, I have no idea. Army field training doesn’t count because that’s hardly recreation; when the primary source of heat is not a small, well-groomed fire but rather the exhaust of a giant turbine engine spewing out the ass-end a 70-ton war machine at decibels normally reserved for rock concerts and temperatures normally reserved for welding, “recreation” and “camping” are not applicable descriptors.

But this should be fun; we’ll be an hour into nowhere, but there will be a large crowd so I’m sure it will be a nice experience to get away from everything. No cell phones, no news (hence, no election coverage, thank heaven!), no video games, no internet, no computer…

No computer for 48 hours…how the hell will that work?

It will be good to get into the middle of nowhere and be able to practice our Tai Chi in peace though, something that has, as of yet, escaped us as a possibility because we live in a relatively dense area.

Yes, this will be good.

Financial analysis for the non-financially-analytical

http://www.businesspundit.com/sub-prime/

It's genius, check it out. Clever commentary on how we got where we are, economically speaking.

Fucking greed...you can always count on it.

Creativity in a can!

I’ve got this novel idea, see…no, really, I have an idea for a novel.

My wife and I have been working on getting this story going and we really think it could be big. The best part is, though, that we’re not alone in this – several other people have expressed enthusiasm for our endeavor. One of her co-workers even threatened me with bodily harm if I did not succeed in getting it published!

Now I know what you’re worried about and NO, I’m not going to be stupid enough to post the idea, even my synopsis, on my blog! What I would like to know from the very select group of readers that I have, is the following (thank you ScarletVirago for the idea of seeking feedback from the readers):

1. What genre of books you enjoy?
2. Which authors are your favorites?
3. What do you look for in a story? What makes a “good” novel to you? (i.e., what makes you sacrifice sleep to see what’s in the next chapter?)
4. What makes a bad novel to you? (i.e., what kinds of things make you want to shove the book down the toilet in order to feel that your opinion of it has been fully expressed?)

Here are my feelings:

1. Sci-fi/fantasy (in a VERY broad sense), espionage (modern), mystery.
2. Steven Brust, Steve Perry, Those Two Ladies that wrote the Dragonlance series (I apologize, but I cannot recall their names right now), Robert Ludlum. I give insane amounts of credit to Tolkien and Tom Clancy, though I cannot bring myself to read them (just due to writing style) they are wonderful authors with great stories.
3. I like character-driven stories the most; I like to know what makes the character tick. I like to be challenged, by that I mean I like there to be questions put forth that I have to keep reading to find the answers to.
4. Choppy writing will make me toss out a novel faster than a used tissue because I like elaborate sentences and vivid (though not excessive) descriptions of things.

Any feedback you folks could provide would be helpful to us in finding what may be lacking in our story.

I feel so dirty...

I have a bad habit.

It's disgusting, low-class, filthy, degrading, cheap and makes me feel naughty.

I...like...McDonald's iced coffee - THERE! I said it! Ewwwwwwwww....

I can't help it! Starbucks changed their recipe earlier in the year to something that makes my face contort and my stomach want to climb my esophagus so as to be close enough to hit me in the brain. My company only serves hot Pete's Coffee, which isn't bad, but they have an ice machine that is WAY too small for the number of people in this office; a fact which nearly caused violent revolt this summer as the A/C was repeatedly going out and we're on the third floor in a very hot city. I was looking everywhere for drinkable iced bean and I wasn't satisfied until I let a friend of mine talk me into trying one of the cheap knockoffs.

...then something that is very rare with cheap knockoffs occurred: I found myself wondering why I ever paid for the mainstream brand name.

Well, I know why: Starbucks was better. Was. As in, past tense. Now, McDonald's has a comparatively tasty coffee drink for nearly half the price. And since I'm embarrassed to go anywhere near a pair of Golden Arches, I find myself less motivated to go get it and spending less money in total anyway, so it works out.

That being said, I am boycotting the McDonald's drive through on one gripe alone: they have actually managed to become so gigantic in economic and cultural status that they can afford to be so stupendously pretentious as to have a sign in FRONT of their drive through - BEFORE THE MENU, MIND YOU - that says, "Please have your order ready".

I'm sorry, what?

What does it mean when a company can become so large and so culturally pervasive that they can (1) order their patrons about and (2) assume that their menu is so vital to our everyday existence that we know what it is when we awake in the morning and we won't need a brief review of it before ordering lunch because it's all we've thought about while slaving away at our clown-less jobs?!? It means that we need to honestly evaluate the venues we patronize with a morally and principally responsible eye!

...*sip*...shudder...ahhhhhhhh, tasty...Thank heaven for the Ronald McDonald Foundation, eh?

The duality of what we wish for can be so cruel

Now here is something as simultaneously as amazing as it is frightening- they have officially created the world's coolest game controller, and it fits on your head! That's right, a headgear device that reads the electromagnetic shifts in your brain pattern in order to recognize up to 30 different thought patterns...and counting.

As a gamer, I am drooling in anticipation of the unbelievably immersing game experiences that this could lead to. This could lead to diving into virtual worlds where more detail than ever is possible, where an unprecedented level of control would be a barrier that is regularly shattered! And the military aspects? This could lead to one-man tanks by turning over control of the tracks to the tanker's innate sense of motion, and the weapon system to his eye movement, effectively creating mecha! These are things I could have only dreamed of while I was inside the steel monsters. Never scoff at the nerds, they are the ones who shape the future.

However, as a realist I am wetting myself at the potential dangers of this. Anyone ever heard of "force-feedback" joysticks? They were all the gaming rage 15 or so years ago because they made that flight simulator more realistic. Well, if this technical miracle can read my thoughts by contact now, then how long is it until it's reading my thoughts from a distance? And then how long until these mind-reading mechanical marvels are capable of force-feedback, or just force-feeding?!? See Appleseed: Ex Machina for a good example of the danger this could cause.

I suppose until there is an army of hypnotized video-game addicts, we don't have to worry. After all, this technology can't possibly advance that quickly...

Terrifying thoughts and a furious rant.

Yes, there will be cursing.

As of the 4th I was a one-year veteran of my company. Oh joy, oh bliss. What was most sad about it though was that the celebration of my iron endurance and professional dedication went completely unceremoniously and unnoticed unless I mentioned it; my boss said nothing, my supervisor said nothing, my coworkers said nothing. One year anniversaries are so rare here that no one even expects them, let alone mentions them. Even if one of your co-workers thinks about it, it's with more of a shudder of sympathy than a clap of celebration; it's kind of like surviving one year in a gulag, who really wants to be congratulated on that?!

That may have been the saddest part, but the most terrifying part was when I mentioned my survival rate to a coworker and his response was, "Congrats! Ah yes, I remember my one-year, then I blinked and it was four."

FOUR?!?! Fucking-A! Where do I work, a black hole?!?

Pass too closely and your life stretches out into an infinitely long period of time; enter it directly and there is nothing but oblivion as your very sense of self is disintegrated into a billion pieces and absorbed into the very core of the space-time-anomaly! Resistance is futile...

ARGH! No! Must....escape....doom!

Luckily, I've been getting calls from different recruiters so there may be some event on the horizon (a little astro-physics joke there, did I make anyone giggle?). These calls have been the ultimate vindication too, nothing like people coming looking for you to make you feel good after a year of the nagging sensation that four years in the Army and four years of college hasn't provided you with enough experience or marketable skills. That and those two Google creators being only 7 years older than I but worth $19 billion more. Ugh.

Now, a bit of ranting (like you didn't see this coming...):

To the NOAH'S BAGELS in Roseville: Try hiring someone with a friendly attitude if you want repeat customers. If what happened to me on Saturday happens again, I may consider opening a bagel shop myself just to try to run you out of business, or at least steal a significant portion of your customers. (For the record, no, I wouldn't, I like my Saturday mornings...but I feel like it).

My wife and I go into Noah's pretty damned hungry. It's busy and the wait is long but we accept that because we were too lazy to make breakfast ourselves. What I didn't expect was some of the worst service I've received, ever.

My wife orders a "veggie" breakfast panini; the other option was a bacon panini but we don't eat pork. And, by the way, I'm pretty tired of people giving me crap because I don't eat pork just because I'm married to someone who doesn't. Most people get all freaked out and paranoid that I'm judging them when I say I don't eat pork and they try to convince me of all the health benefits of eating pig. I'm not judging you, what goes in my gut is my choice, not yours, get over it!

Anyway, my wife's veggie panini comes out with no veggies but a lot of bacon. I then spend three minutes (yes I'm exaggerating) standing at the counter trying to get the attention of one of the many teenagers packed into the cooking area like Los Angeles landscape artists in a pickup truck (OH! Political incorrectness alert!). When I finally do, he greets me through an eyes half closed, probably Ritalin-induced, MTV-brain expression and says, "yeah?"

I am now a thrilled and excited customer, in awe of the care and concern they show for my order. And in case you're saying "well they were busy and probably just stressed out" hear this: I worked at Starbucks and I had to be cheery to people as early as 5:30 in the morning while I knew I had to go and study for a business degree in eight hours and I fucking did it with a smile on my face so this little narcissistic teenage new-century-coddled pissant can suck it up and learn the value of customer service.

*Ahem* I apologize, I digressed. I point at the bacon panini and say, "This was supposed to be a veggie." Without a word to me, this kid takes the basket and turns to another of his co-workers who is hurriedly getting someone else's order wrong and says, "this was supposed to be a veggie." She sighs, curls her lip, rolls her eyes and droops her shoulders the way a four-year-old would if you told them they had to clean their room before they could play with their toys. She takes the basket, and he turns and walks away without saying anything. Nothing. No, "we're sorry, we'll get that fixed", nothing!

But it gets worse.

When my order is "complete", I take it back to my wife, who is so hungry she's staring at the doggy bagel bites and drooling. When she opens it up to put some pepper in it, however, there's a chunk of bacon sitting right there saying, "Ha-ha! Missed me!" They actually just hap-hazardly took the bacon off and threw the veggies on top of it! What the hell?!? What if this was a food allergy, not a personal choice?!? I mean, has customer support and business ethics gone THAT far out the window that those kids thought this was an okay way to fix someone's order? A half-veggie half-bacon breakfast panini was not what I paid for!

The manager on duty scoffed at his pathetic excuse for a workforce when I took it too him and he, to HIS credit, gave my money back to me in cash and apologized. Mr. Curly Head, you are the ONLY reason I may consider returning to that shop at some point in the future. Should I return, be proud that your professionalism and customer care kept some small portion of revenue for your shop. If I do not, then take that professionalism and customer service attitude with you as it will serve you well in all your future endeavors.

It's that long skinny one next to the hump in the middle...

This one goes out to that idiot who refused to move around the double-trailer delivery truck driving at 5 mph in a business park with its hazard blinkers on: STEP ON IT! The lane is wide enough to fit twelve of your tiny little '87 Toyota Corolla side by side, so go around the giant sloth next time instead of holding up the rest of us because we don't want to jump the gun and get side-swiped by you when you suddenly grow a pair just as we're passing you.

And yes, that golden blur flying impatiently past you was my 1986 Nissan 300ZX.

And this one is for Palin:

Palin: "Pray... that there is a plan and that that plan is God's plan."

I'm sorry, what?! God the almighty, the alpha, the omega, the sum of all things needs your prayers to get the creative juices to come up with a plan, otherwise he just throws a dart at a giant whiteboard or asks St. Peter to refer to the Magic 8-Ball? I don't understand how someone can believe in God, believe in the "almighty", and then say something that implies that that God is not all-encompassing. I don't get it. *Sigh*...

That being said, I did like her line, "I guess a small-town mayor is sort of like a "community organizer," except that you have actual responsibilities." Pure genius!

November will be very interesting...

Culture clash and the beautiful aftermath...

Wow I'm beat. A three-day weekend and I still need to go to bed early to catch up!

Part of that I get to blame on my wedded family. My rents-in-law came to visit and we all stayed at my wife's aunt's place where we ate too much, slept too little, and had fun to the point of exhaustion. I love my in-laws, but it takes a significant investment in caffeine to keep up with them. Part of this is that the family is separated by 400 miles. 

The other part is culture. I'll explain.

My Angel's family is from the middle east. Ethnically they are Persian (having originated from Iran); nationally they are American. Whereas most people would think these cultures contradictory, they do in fact tend to multiply certain aspects of each other when they line up.

For example: Americans like to eat. Persians have some of the most amazing cuisine, ever, plus they are used to cooking for an empire (a little "enough to feed an army" joke there - sorry, I'm tired). Multiply these together and you have things like "dinner" and "breakfast" turning into two-hour long feasts filled with an abundance of food, flying forks, flailing limbs and more simultaneous voices than a Catholic Choir. And the food is so good - because, thank GOD, I married into a family of excellent traditional Persian cooks - that just when you think that another bite will result in critical injury, you realize that there is something else on the table that you haven't tried yet or some combination of flavors that has yet to be discovered by your bland, hamburger and hot dog taste buds! And the leftovers? My father-in-law will do everything short of cramming them manually down my gullet to make sure that I have "gotten enough to eat". They call this "taroufing"; where they will insist until the sun rises, politely and like a good host mind you,  that you are lying through your saffron-stained teeth when you say that any more food and they will have to roll you away from the table with a bulldozer.

Another example: Americans love to talk. Persians love to talk. As I mentioned before, this usually results in a cacophony of conversations that stockbrokers on Wall Street couldn't contend with. The most impacted part of conversation though are the goodbyes. Persians are the only culture I know that can say "goodbye" and start a new conversation in one breath - it's like a Jedi mind trick or something; no gap, it just slips right in there. Like a ninja. People think I'm joking when I say I have to start the farewells at least a half hour before I leave; the truth is, sometimes that's underestimating it!

Now I am blessed in that virtually all of the of worst aspects of the stereotypical Southern California Persian culture is not found in my wedded family. I have found the best slices of traditional Persian culture in my in-laws and my wife. Dedication, loyalty, family, support, and spirituality (not to be confused with the Islamic religious institution; I'll explain my beliefs another time). Gotta love it!

That and the food is DAMN GOOD!

Did I mention that I like the food?

Food...

C'mon man, just one more hit...

This blogging business is crack. Internet crack. Creative, mentally massaging, carpal tunnel inducing, Internet crack. It's even done in lines like crack. You could even go so far as to compare font size to granular dimensions. What does "cut" and "paste" remind you of but a razor blade. And the mirror? Well, turn your monitor off, stare at the dark, depressing reflection, and your ready for another hit.

I'm exhausted from running non-stop for about two weeks now, but am I getting ready for bed? No, I'm checking my blog, reading other blogs, commenting on blogs...basically thinking when I should be shutting my brain down.

I blame my sister.

"Today on the FBI's 10 most wanted: Scarletvirago, critical mastermind, exceptional mother, and Internet crack dealer to the stars. Tune in to see how she helped expose her dear, sweet, innocent brother to a life of sleeplessness, writer's cramp, and developmental brain activity centered around the world of Internet blogging! *BUM-BUMMMMMM!!!*"

It's a sickness...

And the winner is?

I like the fall. Pretty leaves, cool crisp air, warm and tasty drinks, cozying up with my Sweetheart. I like it, really.

Except every four years wherein I will no doubt be, randomly and repeatedly, assaulted with the popular ice-breaking question, "so who are you voting for?"

Now I used to really care about this question. Being a vet, I felt that I had done something to actually earn my vote (before you get your panties in a twist, I'm not saying I felt that one must be a vet to earn it, just that it should be earned in some way other than being born within a certain range of longitude and latitude, i.e. on American soil). I have since relaxed about it and have a much less obsessive opinion about voting; this annoys people sometimes. I enjoy that feeling.

So, someone goes and asks that rhetorical question about voting plans and I respond with, "I live in California, so my vote doesn't matter." This elicits one of a few different responses:

1. The person I am conversing with says, "well the electoral system does dominate the voting process, however [fill in with your choice of intelligent political banter]". We then go on to have an intelligent and enjoyable conversation, with or without opposing views and feelings, regarding politics and government and economics. The ghosts of the founding fathers tingle for that brief moment with that delightful feeling that comes with a job well done. I walk away from the exchange happy to have had it and liking that person more, regardless of whether or not we had a consensus of opinion, because intelligent and open conversations are so rare in this world where everyone is so afraid of violating the PC anti-free speech laws. My Grandmother holds first place in this category of personal interaction (God bless her!), for those keeping score.
   
   
2. Or, the person looks at me with a deer in the headlights stare, tilts their head toward their dominant side and says, "what do you mean?" I then go on to explain, because I love helping to enlighten people, about how the electoral system works (or doesn't, depending on your angle) and why, in an extreme state like California, a vote can be meaningless as anything more than a silent waste of personal expression and gas. We may or may not get into a conversation then regarding politics and government and economics and I may or may not walk away feeling better for having had that conversation, depending on how open to conversation the person is. Note: open to conversation is not the same as being open-minded, and being open-minded is not the same as being empty-minded, although the far-left whack-jobs would love for you to believe that it is.
   


3. OR, the person lets out a horrendous gasp reminiscent of one that you would hear if you said that their baby wasn't cute then bit the head off of a kitten and spit it at them (the baby, not the person), ruffles their feathers and shouts, "THAT'S RIDICULOUS! OF COURSE OUR VOTE COUNTS! DON'T YOU WANT THINGS TO BE BETTER?!?!" They then spend five minutes explaining to me why their candidate of choice, political party of choice, and general view of government is the better one as though that would change the facts of how the system operates. More than likely they will throw in a few lines about what a terrible state the country is in right now to try and frighten me into a sheepish political viewpoint and how voting like them is the only way to change it.

When they, inevitably, pause to see if my face betrays any sign that their passion has swayed me uncontrollably to their side of the fence, I take that moment to wish I had a nice, large, hardcover political science book that was chock full of information. Then I imagine beating them in the face with it until the text rubs off onto their skin and some fraction of the knowledge contained within the volume is pounded, just a little deeper than their chosen political affiliation's propaganda, into the silly-putty they refer to as a brain.

I am not anti-voting mind you; the people of America having the option to vote is what makes this country what it is, for better and for worse (to be discussed another time: how democracy leads to its own downfall). I just have a solid understanding of how the voting process operates and realize that, because California is SO far left, a moderate and objective vote - such as mine, most likely - means nothing in this sea of liberal voters. That's just how it is, and that's okay. I choose to live in California so that is part of the package. That's the glory of how our government is set up; states are like their own little worlds and everyone that wants to live in a similar fashion, within nationally-sanctioned moral boundaries, can get together and say, "this is how we do it here. If you don't like it, move!" Now, if I was living in a swing state, it would be different. But I'm not, so it's not. But it's funny how accepting that I live in an all-or-nothing, socio-fascist, massive majority liberal state - and being open-minded and accepting of that - is somehow offensive to said liberals; the irony is painful.

Which brings me to my opinion on a "none of the above" vote. I firmly believe that there should be a check box (or touch button) labeled "None of the above". If that check box is selected more than either candidate, the executive office is then handed over to the Board of Directors of Google for thirty days. In that time, both parties must select new candidates - the previous candidates may not be included, since they failed to sway the public already - and at the end of thirty days the country has another go of it. Repeat as necessary. Should this need to be repeated more than three times, the Google B.o.D. are appointed "president" until the next normally scheduled presidential election. Oh yes, and Microsoft is given control of the military; hey, checks and balances need to be in place, don't they?

We returned for this? I want my money back...

WARNING: Extreme bitterness ahead! Watch for falling expletives, combustible rants, cynical cliches and the mass dumping of pessimism. That, and this post is fucking long.

Hey, I've got to get this shit off my chest somehow so that I can laugh at it, and this is as good a place as any!

So our trip was a freaking blast! 48 hours, 780 photographs, and more money than I care to think about made a 5 year anniversary trip totally worth it! Well, it was a 5 year only legally. My Sweets and I have been together for 7, no splitting up, no "we were on a break" issues, nothin'! So, we actually consider this our 7 year anniversary. Like I said about my marriage before: cynics can fuck off. We're the ones doing it - if we say 7, it's 7.

The trip began with 3.5 hours of breaking the speed limit and making tree-huggers and global warming doomsayers worldwide bawl like babies at our careless use of liquified deceased dino-guts. Then again, we were driving a Honda Civic, so maybe they just got a little miffed. The company couldn't have been better and we laughed and photographed our way to the coast, turning just before being swallowed up by the ominous marine layer hovering over the mountains like the alien warships in Independence Day. We arrived just before our asses became totally numb and killed time on Cannery Row until our room was ready, checked in, oo'd and awe'd at the view, killed more time, then went to dinner. There, my smoking-hot wife and I enjoyed a tasty fillet mignon and chicken risotto. The venue, Cibo (pronounced, Chee-bow) was a bit less intimate than I would have preferred, but was very nice nonetheless; highly recommended.

I had asked the owner to have the evening's musical talent, Nadia and the Highlights, dedicate a song to us and what I got was even better: the singer came over and chatted with us, took a picture for us, congratulated us and wished us a nice visit. It was very pleasant how personal it was. When there was a gap in the flailing about of caucasoid limbs, my wife and I took to the dance floor and butchered a rumba, and had a great time doing it.

The next day involved a lot of walking, fun at the shops, biking about 4 miles on a surrey, lunch at an adorable little cafe that was popular among far more people than it could seat legally, and a nice visit to the aquarium where I took full advantage of my camera's aquarium settings and got some decent shots of jellyfish. Of course, I know my sister will want to vomit at the amateur status of these shots, but I'm proud of myself for just being able to tell what's in them! A quick trip to fisherman's wharf and a caricature later and we were on our way home. We left at 8:30, you do the math - I was not in a good mood the next day, what with having to be up at 6 am to go to work and all.

The cynicism comes into play upon our return. We suddenly have to return to work, chores, errands, money....real fucking life! Yeah, I know, "that's reality, deal with it." And I am, it just sucks and I don't want to. I want to enjoy my job, not keep myself awake on the trip home by thinking of ways I can injure myself "accidentally" that would be non-critical and recoverable but serious enough that I could get out of work.

Perhaps it would help if you knew a little bit about what I was dealing with at my place of employment. I'll keep it simple because the only thing worse than my job is explaining it to someone. I'm an Army vet (did my four years), I have an A.S. in Social Sciences and a B.S. in Business Management. I wanted to get into IT so I tried everywhere and finally got a job right after graduation doing admin for the IT department of a third party administrator for health care benefits and no, I won't bore you with what that is. Six weeks later they had an opening for a more technical position and saw my talents for organization and detail as a good fit, so they "laterally promoted" me (new responsibilities, a huge chunk of liability, and more ass-chewings than are logical but no immediate increase in pay) with the assurance that I could expect my salary to go up much faster in this new position. This was my first lesson; never do SHIT unless you're getting appropriately compensated for it. See, I'm learning and benefiting from the promotion already.

Basically, from there it was me learning the position, me making the position even better, me learning new skills that went well beyond my position, me improving the position even more, then them giving me a lousy 3.5% raise which, while you're not entitled to know my annual salary, I will tell you is absolute piss.

And from there, it's been the same thing. Every day. The same file names, the same contacts, the same psychotic fire-breathing bi-polar spawn-of-Satan boss looming overhead just waiting for someone to make an error so she can take out her aggression which stems from compensation issues relating to her feelings of a severe lack of self-efficacy. Family members have commented that my hair has turned darker; I tell them that's because the only sunlight that my cube is exposed to must pass by my boss first, where it promptly gets sucked into the black void that floats around her.

But it's not just work. There are other issues right at the moment, ones I won't get into here because they are too private and kind of scary. Suffice to say, they make me angry, scared and they definitely stress me out.

And this is what we came back for?!? Like I said, I'm dealing; I just don't wanna! I have great things to think about in my life, it's just that they come up so much less often than the stressful things. Why is that?

There, I feel better, thanks for listening.

Do I smell fish?

We're back, we're exhausted, we had an unbelievably great time! :)

More to follow after work (bleh...).

Happy 5th Anniversary Angel!

Ladies and gentlemen, you will not find any cynicism on this posting. I apologize if this disappoints anyone but this is one category of my life that has never and will never be open to doubts or pessimism.

I love being married to my wife, period.

I am not without my share of issues and backstory (ask my sister - no, wait, don't, that could get ugly) but in this I am truly happy. I'm just blessed to be in love with her! I could not have asked for more: when I need her most, she is there; when she needs me most, I am at my best; she always can make me laugh, take away my pain, calm my fears, or provide stimulating conversation on topics spiritual, moral or social; we can be lazy together, or go on an adventure kyaking or hiking; we can be creative together; we can teach each other; it's our dream to work together professionally or writing fiction novels; when she hurts my world crumbles; when she smiles, the universe lights up; and so on, and so on.

I don't come from a family of successful relationships. So, the fact that mine has lasted through 7 years, 14,000 miles of separation for a year, relocation, financial issues, college, the Army, and a kalidescope of other challenges makes it that much more amazing.

My parents are amazing people who turned out to not be right for each other. That was hard for me and probably harder for them, but I thank them for helping shape me into the kind of person who is fully compatible with my wife, who deserves a woman like her.

And to you my Angel, thank you for loving me like you do. Every morning when I put your ring on and ask you to marry me, I know it comes off as a joke and that's okay, but truly it is from the bottom of my heart and backed by my entire soul. All the things in my life that ever made me unhappy when I experienced them I would not change, because it all led me to you and that's what makes me smile when I wake up next to you.

Tomorrow we're going to Monterey for the weekend and I cannot wait! Yes, there will be pictures!! Goodnight.

It's the end of the world as we know it, and I feel fine.

Has anyone else noticed that the end of the next presidential term coincides with the end of the Mayan calendar?

The anthropologists in the audience may shit themselves now.

For those of you (do I have a following yet? am I an Internet star yet?) who are not familiar with Mezzo-American ancient historical cultures, the Mayan calendar ends in 2012. There are several theories (ranging from the end of the world to the calendar just starts over to they believed there just wouldn't be a need for one) but I prefer my own, slightly simmered on the humor of one of my best friends who is an anthropologist, and seasoned with a hint of garlic and cynicism:

• As is typical of youth-parent occupational progression, the son of the calendar engraver decided that he wanted more excitement out of life than blistered hands and culture-guiding math skills. He wanted to be captain of his village's football team - the odds of surviving are 50/50, but the chicks dig it!
  
• Their math was off - the calendar should have crashed in 2000 but Microsoft saved us all.
  
• The engraver got bored and started a union. The subsiquent strike was never resolved and the calendar slab manufacturer had to file a Chapter 11.
  
• The 4th dimension behaves like a yo-yo and in 2012 time starts going backwards.
  
• And my personal favorite: For all of their warlike behaviour, the Mayans actually had a gigantic sense of humor and stopped their calendar on a random year just to fuck with people for centuries to come.

There you are, my analysis of the great lost civilization.

Stay tuned for my thoughts on Atlantis, where the pyramids really came from, and the long-lost concept of personal and moral responsibility!

I have been detained...

...by the narcissistic Internet fad of deluding myself into believing that my thoughts are of some great importance that others would wish to share in them, lest their lives be just that much less fulfilling.

How ironic that I can identify this fact yet still willingly sit here and type away...

As this is my first blog I don't know what I will be blogging about, be prepared for some undertones of insanity. Of course, some of the greatest realizations came from free thought, hence the title of this log. So, you might get lucky and witness some cursory brilliance in this text that hints at a great thought from an average mind that could change the world if only it weren't confined to a few lines of text within a sea of electronic babbling. Or you may waste a lot of time reading my hipnotic ramblings. Sigh...

Well, if you are here voluntarily, I pity you and hope you have both patience and a sense of humor. If you are here because you know me and want to know what I'm thinking I must ask: are you INSANE?!?! Oh, well! For either circumstance, thank you for your interest and I hope I cause some spark of thought where you didn't realize there was dry timber waiting to burst into flame. :)