By the way, In case you are worried about the double purchasing of my Christmas presents via the wish list. I have decided to appoint a liason to keep track of all of your Holiday giving. Yeah, I know I am an obnoxious twit, but I don't care.
The List Liason is Sheila McCormick, the best lady ever, and her number is (318) 925-8628. Call her with purchased items and any questions. Thanks and Holly jolly yadda yadda.
Tuesday, November 22, 2005
Mississippi Mud, Star Pop, Pot, Crack, Meth,...
So, I think the ice cream man in our neighborhood is actually a drug dealer. Why you might ask? Well, Today at 4:45 and 60 degrees I heard the at first fun, then very very very annoying canned music of "Pop Goes the Weasel" (which I kid you not, the dog across the street actually howled, like on the cartoons, at the sound of this song). This can only mean one thing, the ice cream man is coming.
Now, no matter how old I get, when I hear that song I am instantly transported to back 1992. Sweat pouring from my face as I was usually running the sun baked streets with no supervision. My first summers of freedom and my daily snow cone. I would always ask the balding, mustached icecream man for a green snow cone with lots of juice. His response was always "Here's one to give you a heart attack," or "This will make you a diabetic." Words which ring truth now, but at 12, merely greek. But with a smiling face and sticky hands I would exchange my measly dollar pilfered from my mom's purse and would continue the afternoon with an occasional brain freeze and charging sugar high. But at the first hint of sub-85 weather the ice cream man would disappear like free beer at a Fraternity party. Hidden away unit the sun returned to beat down on us again.
Now that I am 26 I have traded in my green snow cone for Ultra Light Beer and my sun baked pavement for the gym track, but the song rings true even now. So imagine my surprise when I meet the ice cream man of today. The first time I heard the melodious chorus, I dug through my worn wallet and found an extra dollar. Impatiently waiting for him to finish with the kids down the street, I waited at the end of my drive. What am I going to get? What will a dollar buy now? I hope he has snow cones. These were the thoughts running through my head. But when he pulled up and I noticed enough gold in his mouth for fort knoxx to be jealous, my childhood memories were replaced with my limited street smarts. I should have figured it out when I learned over half of the items he had pictured on his truck were "sold out," but I guess my naivete took over. I settled for a plain ice cream sandwich, that was gone by the time I entered my home. I thought noting of it, until November of last year hit. I was sitting in my home, working, as per usual, when I heard the song again. I was quite perplexed as I was wearing a long sleeve shirt and socks, but the cold climate apparently did not surpress this entrepreneurs inner drive. Then as the next few weeks and month rolled on, I realized I was hearing the Ice Cream man more in January and Feb than in the typical summer months. Then discussing this with my neighbor it all fell into place. What a great convenient way to sell drugs. You have the cleaver rouse of the Mr. Rogers type, only out to "make the kiddies happy." But, really your have your own drug delivery route. As a business plan I find it quite ingenious, as a human being and a resident, I wonder how founded my theories are and what I should do about it. I could be wrong, but the pieces are there...More trips during colder months then hot, always out of a majority of the popular goodies, stereotypical (very) idea of your friendly, neighborhood drug dealer. Yeah, I think I am on to something here. What's next, a prostitution ring masked as a paper route. Is there no more decency left. Damn you Britney Spears
Next week I will be dissecting on how my local bar is really a Mafia front. Stay tuned.
Now, no matter how old I get, when I hear that song I am instantly transported to back 1992. Sweat pouring from my face as I was usually running the sun baked streets with no supervision. My first summers of freedom and my daily snow cone. I would always ask the balding, mustached icecream man for a green snow cone with lots of juice. His response was always "Here's one to give you a heart attack," or "This will make you a diabetic." Words which ring truth now, but at 12, merely greek. But with a smiling face and sticky hands I would exchange my measly dollar pilfered from my mom's purse and would continue the afternoon with an occasional brain freeze and charging sugar high. But at the first hint of sub-85 weather the ice cream man would disappear like free beer at a Fraternity party. Hidden away unit the sun returned to beat down on us again.
Now that I am 26 I have traded in my green snow cone for Ultra Light Beer and my sun baked pavement for the gym track, but the song rings true even now. So imagine my surprise when I meet the ice cream man of today. The first time I heard the melodious chorus, I dug through my worn wallet and found an extra dollar. Impatiently waiting for him to finish with the kids down the street, I waited at the end of my drive. What am I going to get? What will a dollar buy now? I hope he has snow cones. These were the thoughts running through my head. But when he pulled up and I noticed enough gold in his mouth for fort knoxx to be jealous, my childhood memories were replaced with my limited street smarts. I should have figured it out when I learned over half of the items he had pictured on his truck were "sold out," but I guess my naivete took over. I settled for a plain ice cream sandwich, that was gone by the time I entered my home. I thought noting of it, until November of last year hit. I was sitting in my home, working, as per usual, when I heard the song again. I was quite perplexed as I was wearing a long sleeve shirt and socks, but the cold climate apparently did not surpress this entrepreneurs inner drive. Then as the next few weeks and month rolled on, I realized I was hearing the Ice Cream man more in January and Feb than in the typical summer months. Then discussing this with my neighbor it all fell into place. What a great convenient way to sell drugs. You have the cleaver rouse of the Mr. Rogers type, only out to "make the kiddies happy." But, really your have your own drug delivery route. As a business plan I find it quite ingenious, as a human being and a resident, I wonder how founded my theories are and what I should do about it. I could be wrong, but the pieces are there...More trips during colder months then hot, always out of a majority of the popular goodies, stereotypical (very) idea of your friendly, neighborhood drug dealer. Yeah, I think I am on to something here. What's next, a prostitution ring masked as a paper route. Is there no more decency left. Damn you Britney Spears
Next week I will be dissecting on how my local bar is really a Mafia front. Stay tuned.
Thursday, November 17, 2005
Tuesday, November 15, 2005
Underwear, Cops, and Jesus, is there nothing I won't talk about?
I thought I was busy when I was in Baton Rouge. Boy was I stupid! It seems that since I am not home, I am doing more than I knew I could. I am battling with those seemingly endless hurricane claims, in my normal area, and then there is the squeezing in of everything else I normally do, and even some things I don't. Tonight has actually been the first night have been home, and stayed home, before 8pm. I made dinner for myself, in my own kitchen (bite my butt take out), and have been able to do things I need to do. For example, I washed clothes (I was almost to the point of turning them inside out, or just going commando...gross I know you wanted that mental image). updated my blog...as you can plainly see, and now I am going to put in a movie and update some of my personal financial information. Man the life of a "grown up" is a riot. I am actually extremely happy about it though, weird, maybe, but I can live with your jeers and snickers behind my back.
Sunday night I came home to an empty home, which is not a problem at all, but something was a miss. I went to open the door only to find it ajar already. I didn't get upset, or scared, or nervous. I simple had a conversation in my brain. I did what you might consider a Cost Benefit analysis. Did I go in the dark, scarey home and yell for whom ever the hell was in there to get out and then maybe get shot? No. Do I run into my bedroom strap on my iron and do a military sweep of the home shouting clear in every room I check out and still maybe get shot? Tempting and maybe fun, but No. Do I cautiously walk away, call both roommates to only find out they have not been to the home for hours and hour, then call the cops? Yes, that's the ticket to stay off the Darwin award recipient list. I have to say I was impress. I did not call 911, but merely called the station, a number I have on speed dial. I gave my information and what I was wearing and then the nice lady on the other end said someone would be over. Now, I have heard the stories about the cops taking their sweet time to get to places, so I sat in my neighbor's front yard and watched and waited. To my surprise within three minutes three cars stealthily pulled on to my street. Hands on their holsters and flashlights at the ready, they surrounded the house and began to look for the perp (isn't cop jargon fun). Within five minutes of my call a K-9 cop and doggie arrived. They went through the house and found...nothing. Apparently one of us, Not Me, left the door slightly opened when they left earlier that day. Thankfully nothing was missing and nothing was out of place. The neighbor came out and I had the auspicious duty of explaining to them I am a whinny baby and I was afraid to go into my dark house alone. Not really, I figured it was better to call them and be better to be safe than sorry, cause I don't like to apologize. But it proved to be a little excitement to round out the night. Never a dull moment a the "youth hostel" (which is the current name of the house, careful, it can change without warning and when you call it the YH, I will have to reply with "Uh, that was sooo last winter." and you don't want me to bust you down like that. Oh, by the way I heard my mother say to some 0ne the other day "you just dissed my son." Now I am honored she would stand up for me when someone was frontin my like that, cause I don't like peeps up in my Kool Aid, but I don't use that term and to hear a 50+ woman say that makes me laugh).
So it's not easy to pour out the past few days into one post, but I have managed to hit the high points. Oh, I had a buddy of mine call me today to ask me who Jesus is to me. I love that. I am not the type of person to proactively evangilize to the masses. I try to lean to the more suttle methods of spreading the love, but when some one asks me, beware of the flood gates. I hope I helped him out, but even still to know I tried makes me feel good. Have a great night folks.
Sunday night I came home to an empty home, which is not a problem at all, but something was a miss. I went to open the door only to find it ajar already. I didn't get upset, or scared, or nervous. I simple had a conversation in my brain. I did what you might consider a Cost Benefit analysis. Did I go in the dark, scarey home and yell for whom ever the hell was in there to get out and then maybe get shot? No. Do I run into my bedroom strap on my iron and do a military sweep of the home shouting clear in every room I check out and still maybe get shot? Tempting and maybe fun, but No. Do I cautiously walk away, call both roommates to only find out they have not been to the home for hours and hour, then call the cops? Yes, that's the ticket to stay off the Darwin award recipient list. I have to say I was impress. I did not call 911, but merely called the station, a number I have on speed dial. I gave my information and what I was wearing and then the nice lady on the other end said someone would be over. Now, I have heard the stories about the cops taking their sweet time to get to places, so I sat in my neighbor's front yard and watched and waited. To my surprise within three minutes three cars stealthily pulled on to my street. Hands on their holsters and flashlights at the ready, they surrounded the house and began to look for the perp (isn't cop jargon fun). Within five minutes of my call a K-9 cop and doggie arrived. They went through the house and found...nothing. Apparently one of us, Not Me, left the door slightly opened when they left earlier that day. Thankfully nothing was missing and nothing was out of place. The neighbor came out and I had the auspicious duty of explaining to them I am a whinny baby and I was afraid to go into my dark house alone. Not really, I figured it was better to call them and be better to be safe than sorry, cause I don't like to apologize. But it proved to be a little excitement to round out the night. Never a dull moment a the "youth hostel" (which is the current name of the house, careful, it can change without warning and when you call it the YH, I will have to reply with "Uh, that was sooo last winter." and you don't want me to bust you down like that. Oh, by the way I heard my mother say to some 0ne the other day "you just dissed my son." Now I am honored she would stand up for me when someone was frontin my like that, cause I don't like peeps up in my Kool Aid, but I don't use that term and to hear a 50+ woman say that makes me laugh).
So it's not easy to pour out the past few days into one post, but I have managed to hit the high points. Oh, I had a buddy of mine call me today to ask me who Jesus is to me. I love that. I am not the type of person to proactively evangilize to the masses. I try to lean to the more suttle methods of spreading the love, but when some one asks me, beware of the flood gates. I hope I helped him out, but even still to know I tried makes me feel good. Have a great night folks.
Wednesday, November 9, 2005
Knowing God vs. Knowing about God
What does that mean? To know too much about God has the potential for you to look down on those learning and searching, this lead to non Godly ways, among other negative connotations . Not knowing enough about God prevents you from having a deep and full relationship with Him. At which point does knowing about God comprise knowing God.
Meditation vs Prayer. Is there a difference? Apparently so, and I think the lost art of meditation is black eye on today's Christianity. Something I am going to try and remedy, with myself at least. But, finding time is the hard part. No excuses, taking five, ten minutes to actively listen and think of God as you mentally roll through the rolodex of ideas and concerns you have. It could be something as simple as online journaling...Hmmm...
Do you need a church to be a religious person? Is it necessary to attend a weekly or semi-weekly service? If not, where does the foundation of your faith come from? The jaded, redrafted scripts of Grade B movies? And, if you don't need to attend a church, are you not knowing enough about God and His people?
So many questions, not enough answers, this whole search thing is crazy, but I know it won't ever end. I see this "journey" as a constant teetering between to much and not enough, with an understanding I will never find that exact point were there is not more movement, a perfect balance if you will. That I am find with, because the journey is important and end justifies the means.
Meditation vs Prayer. Is there a difference? Apparently so, and I think the lost art of meditation is black eye on today's Christianity. Something I am going to try and remedy, with myself at least. But, finding time is the hard part. No excuses, taking five, ten minutes to actively listen and think of God as you mentally roll through the rolodex of ideas and concerns you have. It could be something as simple as online journaling...Hmmm...
Do you need a church to be a religious person? Is it necessary to attend a weekly or semi-weekly service? If not, where does the foundation of your faith come from? The jaded, redrafted scripts of Grade B movies? And, if you don't need to attend a church, are you not knowing enough about God and His people?
So many questions, not enough answers, this whole search thing is crazy, but I know it won't ever end. I see this "journey" as a constant teetering between to much and not enough, with an understanding I will never find that exact point were there is not more movement, a perfect balance if you will. That I am find with, because the journey is important and end justifies the means.
Sunday, November 6, 2005
"This is the way we clean the house, clean the house...all the live long day."
As per my usual return to home tradition, I spent a good portion of the day cleaning. Some of you might not believe me, but I like to clean. I have a special routine that makes it almost fun ( cause if it was fun, I would be a world class tool, and now I am just a national class tool.) The key to enjoyable house cleaning is this...aren't you excited to know...don't you wish I would tell you already? OK, loud music. Pick one of you favorite CDs/Bands/cassette tapes/or Vinyls, turn it up so it pumps through the whole house and thus, over the vacuum. That way from any room or any vacuum you can hear the tunes. I also find cleaning the house is a good way to procrastinate other stuff. My main goal today was to clean and organize my office, so what did I do. I cleaned every other room and saved the office for last. I didn't want to do it, but after I ran out of rooms it got done. Mostly, it allows my mind to wonder and gives my hands something to do. I like being home.
No one is at the house right now and I am lonely. But, I think even if it was full of people I would seek out the quiet place and continue to be lonely, that's just the mood I choose to be in right now. It allows me to think and attempt to put things in perspective. But, I bought a new book today called Knowing God and I think I will start reading it now instead.
No one is at the house right now and I am lonely. But, I think even if it was full of people I would seek out the quiet place and continue to be lonely, that's just the mood I choose to be in right now. It allows me to think and attempt to put things in perspective. But, I bought a new book today called Knowing God and I think I will start reading it now instead.
Thursday, November 3, 2005
Last Post from South LA
I have something new to add to all the list of my hobbies and interests on those stupid canned applications and what not. People watching. A fun sport with many facets and sub levels to explore. I have said it before but I am just amazed at the diversity of people. Different interest contingent upon age, economic status, and relationship position. And when you think you have someone pegged, BAM! Out of left field comes the winds of change that level you. One such example is of an email sent to me by my Granny. She sent me an email of leaving work/returning to work personified by penguins and polar bears. It was a funny email and appreciated, but it made me think of the other emails I get in the same format. These usually come from my friends and have no where near the innocent intent of this particular one. I can picture her laughing as she sent these email out to family and friends, I can also picture my friends faces and comments as they sent others out to me. Both completely different, but both with my interest in mind. My interest...now there's a vast chasm of grayness to fill. As I change so do my interest. I want to believe when Granny was my age, she would have appreciated some of the content of the emails sent to me now (though, come to think of it, probably not, she had to be as nice and "Mary Poppins" back then as now). But, I find the jokes that made me laugh out loud back in the day (yeah, I know, I'm not old), barely even get a polite smirk now. I stick with stupid jokes that don't offend, unless you are a pirate. Don't believe me, give me a call when you have an hour and I will go through my portfolio. I am happy with the change.
I was discussing the merits of getting older with a "more seasoned" adjuster this afternoon. He brought up some good points. I think he is trying to pass his wisdom on to me, which is fine, cause I know how to listen or at least pretend to listen. When you waded through the pontification, there were some thought provoking words mixed in. Last night there were five of us sitting around in one of the rooms enjoying some adult beverages and mostly joking around. Then some how the conversation got turned to a religious nature. We had a relatively deep discussion and in the middle of it, I stopped and looked around. I said to myself "David, (cause that's what I call myself...low level humor I know, but hey no one's twisting your arm to read this, you just have to deal and hope I keep my asides to a few words instead of a few sentences. Guess I messed this one up.) this is an interesting group/situation to be doing this." No one was converted, no tongues spoken, but general ideas and philosophies shared. I noticed a similarity with the people here that I haven't seen in a while. As time goes by it is less like work associates, but more like a Franternity. Not a binge drinking, girl chasing, college stereotype. More like the ideal college Fraternity. Shared interests, similar goals, different backgrounds, and yeah, some beer. But there is also the support group, a place to vent on a bad day and advice for a difficult situation. Some people think I am crazy for not really wanting to come back, and maybe I am. But when I work alone 90% of the time and can go weeks without talking to a fellow employee or even a boss, I learn to appreciate the few times when that ring of connection is present. And I am not going to lie, the money is damn good too. But tomorrow I leave to go home and basically do the same thing I am doing here, by myself, and without the extra money kicker. From a business aspect it is the right decision, but from the peon, low man on the totem pole, it sucks. I have been doing this so long it has become habit and the "norm." So after tomorrow, the blog will probably be less about work and more about the other randomness running through my mind. And as I will be busy with more things the posts will inevidently be further apart. So, continue to check and read at you leisure, but don't expect much more than the lovely neuroses passed down to me from my crazy mom ( I heart you Mommy). Closing out on Denham Springs.
I was discussing the merits of getting older with a "more seasoned" adjuster this afternoon. He brought up some good points. I think he is trying to pass his wisdom on to me, which is fine, cause I know how to listen or at least pretend to listen. When you waded through the pontification, there were some thought provoking words mixed in. Last night there were five of us sitting around in one of the rooms enjoying some adult beverages and mostly joking around. Then some how the conversation got turned to a religious nature. We had a relatively deep discussion and in the middle of it, I stopped and looked around. I said to myself "David, (cause that's what I call myself...low level humor I know, but hey no one's twisting your arm to read this, you just have to deal and hope I keep my asides to a few words instead of a few sentences. Guess I messed this one up.) this is an interesting group/situation to be doing this." No one was converted, no tongues spoken, but general ideas and philosophies shared. I noticed a similarity with the people here that I haven't seen in a while. As time goes by it is less like work associates, but more like a Franternity. Not a binge drinking, girl chasing, college stereotype. More like the ideal college Fraternity. Shared interests, similar goals, different backgrounds, and yeah, some beer. But there is also the support group, a place to vent on a bad day and advice for a difficult situation. Some people think I am crazy for not really wanting to come back, and maybe I am. But when I work alone 90% of the time and can go weeks without talking to a fellow employee or even a boss, I learn to appreciate the few times when that ring of connection is present. And I am not going to lie, the money is damn good too. But tomorrow I leave to go home and basically do the same thing I am doing here, by myself, and without the extra money kicker. From a business aspect it is the right decision, but from the peon, low man on the totem pole, it sucks. I have been doing this so long it has become habit and the "norm." So after tomorrow, the blog will probably be less about work and more about the other randomness running through my mind. And as I will be busy with more things the posts will inevidently be further apart. So, continue to check and read at you leisure, but don't expect much more than the lovely neuroses passed down to me from my crazy mom ( I heart you Mommy). Closing out on Denham Springs.
Tuesday, November 1, 2005
Homeward Bound...For Good
Well, I found out today they are sending me home on Friday. I don't have to come back, and to be honest, I am not exactly happy about it. They had to hire people outside of our company to work my normal territory in Shreveport, and they aren't doing enough work to justify their salary. So what does that mean. It means in order to save over $1,200 a day, they are making me leave and go home. I know the undertone of the post shows disappointment, which I am not going to lie, I am. I was excited about making the good scratch. I know of some people who will be happy I am home, and I guess I will be happy too.
I don't think it could have come at a better time. Today I climbed on a metal roof and with out looking I accidently bumped my head on the electrical wire connecting to the adjacent structure. No missing hair, or burned smell, but a deep breath and a quick prayer up to God.
Also with the recent vomiting and stomach pains, at least I can get better at home. So turn the light on, kill the fat chicken (not the one with the flu), cause Daddy's coming home to stay. Just don't get upset with me if you Christmas gift is not as good as it could have been, you can blame that on "The Man."
I don't think it could have come at a better time. Today I climbed on a metal roof and with out looking I accidently bumped my head on the electrical wire connecting to the adjacent structure. No missing hair, or burned smell, but a deep breath and a quick prayer up to God.
Also with the recent vomiting and stomach pains, at least I can get better at home. So turn the light on, kill the fat chicken (not the one with the flu), cause Daddy's coming home to stay. Just don't get upset with me if you Christmas gift is not as good as it could have been, you can blame that on "The Man."
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