Do you ever get to the point where there is so much going on in you mind and you are so tired finding a coherent thought is more difficult than Ray Nagin pulling down the white vote? That's how I am now. I usually don't have any problems writing my thoughts or happenings of my scattered mind. But, the unusual thing is I have been thinking about what I wanted to write about for a week now. However, now that I have time I can't seem to write about it. I tried four different starting ideas only to delete them. But, I am going to give it the ole college try and see if I can't get it out.
No, I just can't do it. I will have to think about it more. Actually I started and had a good portion written, but then a contradictory idea plopped in my head and I decided I would have to contemplate it for awhile longer. So, as to not disappoint those who are hiding from a work deadline under the muse of a quick computer break or those blantantly not working ( and I know who you are) I will perservire and write about something near and dear to my heart...
I think dessert is fine, but I have finally determined my favorite after dinner treat (see you thought I was going to get political, spiritual, or deep in some other form or fashion...well not tonight buddy). I like cookies. I will choose cookies over probably 99% of every other dessert. That's just what I like. I like cheese cake, ice cream, regular cake, tiramisuu, and donuts and all that other jazz, but I have a weak spot for cookies. I can pass on the other junk but I am hard pressed not to skip the cookies. I don't like oatmeal and raisins, or oatmeal for that matter. But any type of cookie is great for me, homemade, store bought, pretty, ugly, sugary, sugar free, it doesn't matter, I'll eat it. I am not a cookie bigit, well expect for those nasty, low income oatmeal cookies. When put together in a "melting pot" of cookies they are always the ones to beat up the sissy, yet wonderful, sugar cookies. Then before you know it they are stealing the chocolate chips from others and claiming them of their own. Then they mate with the pecan sandies and leave you with oatmeal chocolate nutty cookies. Those are the ones who really start causing the trouble because they go straight to my hips. So watch out oatmeal cookies cause I got a plan to make a special "oatmeal plate" for you and that is a one way ticket to my buddy who eats oatmeal cookies like you for breakfast...mostly cause he doesn't like cereal. Who would be the mayor of cookie town I wonder. If you go by the popular vote it would have to be chocolate Chip, but the Oreos would pull in the diversity factor, and Elfn Fudge cookies would also have a lot of clout with those people suffering from a Napoleon complex. It's hard to say. Personally I think it would be Milanos. Those guys are Thin, ergonomically different, the upper class of the cookie family. Face it, if you were presented with all of those on a plate, something tells me The Milano would win. Then he would push all the other little cookies, and even oatmeal out to the outside rings so it could make room for it's brand buddies to fill the council and cookie city positions. Yeah, Milanos are the mafia of the cookies. That's it, this means war...we are hitting the mattresses...with plates of cookies, big glass of milk, and a Jane Austin novel. (No, wait, I am man...cookies, milk, and football, yeah that's it)
Well, if you enjoyed my tangent about cookies and society then good. I would like to say it was for you enjoyment but that's not it. I wanted to make you crave a cookie, but there are selfish reasons behind it. When you are on the way home and you stop to buy the fixins for cookies, make sure you pick up some extra to send to me. After all I wrote this to get you all to give me cookies. I want cookies, because I love the cookies.
Monday, January 30, 2006
Monday, January 23, 2006
Cold Coffee Sucks
Right now I am sitting in a local coffee shop, listening to my ipod, drinking a cold cup of french dark roast(pretentious I know). Contemplating the day. It started with a loud wake up call at 7am. My cell phone alarm annoyingly signifying the start of the day. After two snoozes and a two minute gaze at the ceiling I determined one thing...I need to paint the ceiling of my bedroom. I rolled out bed straight to the shower. The day had started.
I took my car to the body shop to get a couple of dings and scratches taken care of. I am going to be without my car for a week, so I needed a rental. I thought I had reserved a nissan sonata from the dealership, but alas, I was mistaken. Apparently when the guy told me I was getting a sonata he really meant, "you are going to get a PT Cruiser." Or, as my friend calls them, a PT Loser. I would have to agree, not my favorite car. I get in the burnt, red car, complete with matching interior trim, and head to my house. My first thoughts being, "God, I miss my V6." the tiny American motor whines it's way to my house where I quickly finish getting ready, load up my work gear and head for Arkansas. This is were I realize I am without cruise control. This is bad for I am a cruise control freak. Be it 3 miles or 300 miles, I use that cruise control. It allows me to regulate my speed and give my poor footsie a rest. So...1o0 miles to drive, 75 miles an hour and no cruise. I can let my mind wonder, as per usual, for fear of speeding and getting a ticket. PT cruiser strike one. I then put my favorite CD in the player and turn it up. Bad sound system. I sounds as if the player is routing the music through a box under the hood and then to a can with a string stretched to the speakers (other can). PT cruiser strike two. The awesome hatch back doesn't fit my ladder and I have had to fold down the seats and prop it up. A hatch back car, it reminds me of my mother's Matrix. Strike three, I don't like the matrix either. I am the recipient of a great big shaft right up the tailpipe.
I went to a fire claim today. I enjoy these. They are probably the most difficult, most time consuming, and detailed oriented claim I can have. But, they do allow me to do one thing most of the others don't. I get to think, I get to go CSI on it. The people also need to be reassured and comforted more, and I feel God has blessed me with an above average ability to bring ease to people in dire straights (future Calling? Maybe). I spent two and a half hours there talking with them, this is opposed to the half hour to hour I usually spend per claim. The claim was inspected, but there was still about 3 hours worth of estimates, reports, lienholder redtape, photos, and etc to do. I hit one more claim in AK and started the miserable drive home. My cell phone battery was almost dead, and I was falling asleep at the wheel. I risked it, I call a couple of friends and persuaded them to take a break from work to help save my life. Man my friends are generous.
I get home, check the mail to find my new company car is in. Hallelujah, finally, now the fear of them finding out the rest of the deterioration of my car. So be it, I will face it head on with no excuses and no pride. If they fire me, I will become a teacher. Yeah, that sounds like fun. Or maybe I will travel with my photog uncle writing commentary, I just don't know. I know I have options though. Anyway back on topic. So I will hopefully get a new car in the next week or so. The good of the day.
Work ends, I don't feel like cooking. I check my email. I have won a pink shirt on ebay. I'm happy, but wonder if by the time I get it, will it still be kosher for straight men to wear pink. I could be buying a brand new designer dish rag, who knows. Still don't feel like cooking. Call my roommate at work, cash in a favor and get a free pizza. Hell yeah, that hits the spot. I laid on the couch for about half an hour willing myself to think of something to do so I don't veg infront of the tv. Then Drew walks in, suggest coffee shop, I'm in like Flint ( I had always thought that saying was in like Flynn as in Errol Flynn, because he was a stud and popular, but I saw a movie on AMC, one of my favorite channels now, named In like Flint, so instead of researching why I was wrong, I blindly and abruptly changed my saying and I will hope people will not notice this not so drastic change of vernacular). And here I am. La Te Da.
Now, I know you are thinking I can't believe he wasted my time with a spotty blow by blow of his day, and for that I have only one thing to say. "To know me, is to Love me."
I took my car to the body shop to get a couple of dings and scratches taken care of. I am going to be without my car for a week, so I needed a rental. I thought I had reserved a nissan sonata from the dealership, but alas, I was mistaken. Apparently when the guy told me I was getting a sonata he really meant, "you are going to get a PT Cruiser." Or, as my friend calls them, a PT Loser. I would have to agree, not my favorite car. I get in the burnt, red car, complete with matching interior trim, and head to my house. My first thoughts being, "God, I miss my V6." the tiny American motor whines it's way to my house where I quickly finish getting ready, load up my work gear and head for Arkansas. This is were I realize I am without cruise control. This is bad for I am a cruise control freak. Be it 3 miles or 300 miles, I use that cruise control. It allows me to regulate my speed and give my poor footsie a rest. So...1o0 miles to drive, 75 miles an hour and no cruise. I can let my mind wonder, as per usual, for fear of speeding and getting a ticket. PT cruiser strike one. I then put my favorite CD in the player and turn it up. Bad sound system. I sounds as if the player is routing the music through a box under the hood and then to a can with a string stretched to the speakers (other can). PT cruiser strike two. The awesome hatch back doesn't fit my ladder and I have had to fold down the seats and prop it up. A hatch back car, it reminds me of my mother's Matrix. Strike three, I don't like the matrix either. I am the recipient of a great big shaft right up the tailpipe.
I went to a fire claim today. I enjoy these. They are probably the most difficult, most time consuming, and detailed oriented claim I can have. But, they do allow me to do one thing most of the others don't. I get to think, I get to go CSI on it. The people also need to be reassured and comforted more, and I feel God has blessed me with an above average ability to bring ease to people in dire straights (future Calling? Maybe). I spent two and a half hours there talking with them, this is opposed to the half hour to hour I usually spend per claim. The claim was inspected, but there was still about 3 hours worth of estimates, reports, lienholder redtape, photos, and etc to do. I hit one more claim in AK and started the miserable drive home. My cell phone battery was almost dead, and I was falling asleep at the wheel. I risked it, I call a couple of friends and persuaded them to take a break from work to help save my life. Man my friends are generous.
I get home, check the mail to find my new company car is in. Hallelujah, finally, now the fear of them finding out the rest of the deterioration of my car. So be it, I will face it head on with no excuses and no pride. If they fire me, I will become a teacher. Yeah, that sounds like fun. Or maybe I will travel with my photog uncle writing commentary, I just don't know. I know I have options though. Anyway back on topic. So I will hopefully get a new car in the next week or so. The good of the day.
Work ends, I don't feel like cooking. I check my email. I have won a pink shirt on ebay. I'm happy, but wonder if by the time I get it, will it still be kosher for straight men to wear pink. I could be buying a brand new designer dish rag, who knows. Still don't feel like cooking. Call my roommate at work, cash in a favor and get a free pizza. Hell yeah, that hits the spot. I laid on the couch for about half an hour willing myself to think of something to do so I don't veg infront of the tv. Then Drew walks in, suggest coffee shop, I'm in like Flint ( I had always thought that saying was in like Flynn as in Errol Flynn, because he was a stud and popular, but I saw a movie on AMC, one of my favorite channels now, named In like Flint, so instead of researching why I was wrong, I blindly and abruptly changed my saying and I will hope people will not notice this not so drastic change of vernacular). And here I am. La Te Da.
Now, I know you are thinking I can't believe he wasted my time with a spotty blow by blow of his day, and for that I have only one thing to say. "To know me, is to Love me."
Thursday, January 19, 2006
That Guy
Today I had a "That Guy" experience. Everyone knows or has seen "that guy." He is usually the one in the group that you look on with disapproving eyes. The one idiot who does or says something that you can't believe. He's the one when he around you either laugh at him or pretend you don't know him, the one you tell your children..."Don't be that guy." Well today "that guy" was me.
As per my usually Thursday routine I went to the gym around 3:30pm. I can do this because I didn't have any work I had to get done right then. I piddled around for a while ran some, did a couple of machines and what not. I remembered there was a yoga class at five, so I had some internal debate if I would stay for it or just go home and cook dinner. Now me going home and cooking dinner wouldn't be funny, so I think you know where I am going with this one. After walking by the room a few times, I decided, what the hell, it can't hurt to go to one class...so I went. That's where it went down hill.
There were lots of people in the class. 21 to be exact. I quickly counted the males in the class on one hand...Actually on one finger, yeah, it was me. I was dripping sweat from my previous workout and sitting in the corner looking very out of place and uncomfortable. Not to mention the room had full length mirrors on three walls, so not only was I in a class with 20 reall women, I was also in a class with an infinite amount of judging women. I was sure when the class actually started I would fell better. Boy was I wrong.
Do any of you know how sensual yoga can be. Granted this was my first time to do yoga for many many years and even then it was just usually me and an old lady in the room. It's a completely different story when you are surrounded by 20 college coeds, not at all bad, but different. Yoga is a very sexual practice. I found myself having to pay particular attention to not staring.
The yoga instructor turned off the lights, which I found both a blessing and a curse. My range of vision was limited to the few people around me silhouetted from closet light. The good part was through the fumbling and intermingling of body parts, I was not in too much danger of being found out to be a big-boned klutz. The down side was I picked the side of the room with the old lady, the hefty gal, and the manly athlete. But since I was trying to keep the "Chester the molester" image on the down low, I was thankful the lights were out.
I proceeded to contort my body into many different positions...the cobra...the monkey...the jack knife...the broken dog. I laughed a little to myself and these names were called out. The mountain was fun, but I could have done with out the corpse. The mental image of a couple of hippies sitting out in the mountains smoking a doobie laced with the white lady came to mind. I can imagine them saying "Hey Man, lets make up some cool new way to exercise, man, that will incorporate Mother Earth, man, and all her glory. We'll call it yoga, man, so all the squares will be afraid, man, it will be narley." Little did they know all the yuppies, gold diggers, and bored soccer moms would embrace the brain child of the age of Aquarius.
So, I am currently lifting my left leg over my head, I have my left arm nearly missing the family maker and reaching for the right ankle. A few seconds later I'm flat on my stomach both feet in both hands, breathing through my nose, and trying not to laugh at the people around me and myself to be honest. A few seconds after that, I have actually tucked my head down so far I can lick my belly button. I resist the urge and focus on the next move...I kept wishing for something easy, boy I'm dumb.
So, the yogi (yeah like the damn bear), as the instructor called himself, had brought music for this. I am all about the music, so I was anticipating some relaxing jams for the Streeching of my already sore body. There was your typical stuff, indian flute music, enya, Mustang Sally. It was pretty standard I guess, though I questioned Mustang Sally. Then Sexual Healing came on. I was fighting with all my might not to bust out laughing and thus causing me to fall from the barking horse position. I fought the temptation well. There were snickers from me, but there were only audible by my immediate yogamates (yeah, I made that word up). I thought this couldn't have been more perfect, sexual healing, yoga, through in a bottle of cheap wine and it's an over 50's idea of a second honeymoon. At this point I wanted out more than a fat kid wants a cupcake. Unfortunately the exits were at opposite ends and I didn't want to break anyone's mental concentration. I know Sexual Healing can be trance inducing, especially while the instructor is persuading you to...and I quote..."Thrust your hips up into the reverse plank and repeat three more times." My mind flashes to a robot with flailing arms screaming "danger David Mac, danger." This went on for about an hour, then the yogi says thanks and see you later. I then hauled ass.
I was the only guy, besides the instructor there, it was like one of those bad sitcom shows where the wife drags the hubby in to "share" common interests. Except I had no significant other. I was stuck looking like a pervert coming to a class full of women. I avoided eye contact for fear seeing my future of pitched forks and torches. Me running saying "I didn't know it would be this awkward", the mob of PC upity women chasing me through the dark forest hurling tampons at me to make me feel more out of place. Scare. At least I was able to recognize I was "that guy" and knowing is half the battle. Next week, yoga, same bat time, same bat place, the only different is that class will be sans a "that guy."
As per my usually Thursday routine I went to the gym around 3:30pm. I can do this because I didn't have any work I had to get done right then. I piddled around for a while ran some, did a couple of machines and what not. I remembered there was a yoga class at five, so I had some internal debate if I would stay for it or just go home and cook dinner. Now me going home and cooking dinner wouldn't be funny, so I think you know where I am going with this one. After walking by the room a few times, I decided, what the hell, it can't hurt to go to one class...so I went. That's where it went down hill.
There were lots of people in the class. 21 to be exact. I quickly counted the males in the class on one hand...Actually on one finger, yeah, it was me. I was dripping sweat from my previous workout and sitting in the corner looking very out of place and uncomfortable. Not to mention the room had full length mirrors on three walls, so not only was I in a class with 20 reall women, I was also in a class with an infinite amount of judging women. I was sure when the class actually started I would fell better. Boy was I wrong.
Do any of you know how sensual yoga can be. Granted this was my first time to do yoga for many many years and even then it was just usually me and an old lady in the room. It's a completely different story when you are surrounded by 20 college coeds, not at all bad, but different. Yoga is a very sexual practice. I found myself having to pay particular attention to not staring.
The yoga instructor turned off the lights, which I found both a blessing and a curse. My range of vision was limited to the few people around me silhouetted from closet light. The good part was through the fumbling and intermingling of body parts, I was not in too much danger of being found out to be a big-boned klutz. The down side was I picked the side of the room with the old lady, the hefty gal, and the manly athlete. But since I was trying to keep the "Chester the molester" image on the down low, I was thankful the lights were out.
I proceeded to contort my body into many different positions...the cobra...the monkey...the jack knife...the broken dog. I laughed a little to myself and these names were called out. The mountain was fun, but I could have done with out the corpse. The mental image of a couple of hippies sitting out in the mountains smoking a doobie laced with the white lady came to mind. I can imagine them saying "Hey Man, lets make up some cool new way to exercise, man, that will incorporate Mother Earth, man, and all her glory. We'll call it yoga, man, so all the squares will be afraid, man, it will be narley." Little did they know all the yuppies, gold diggers, and bored soccer moms would embrace the brain child of the age of Aquarius.
So, I am currently lifting my left leg over my head, I have my left arm nearly missing the family maker and reaching for the right ankle. A few seconds later I'm flat on my stomach both feet in both hands, breathing through my nose, and trying not to laugh at the people around me and myself to be honest. A few seconds after that, I have actually tucked my head down so far I can lick my belly button. I resist the urge and focus on the next move...I kept wishing for something easy, boy I'm dumb.
So, the yogi (yeah like the damn bear), as the instructor called himself, had brought music for this. I am all about the music, so I was anticipating some relaxing jams for the Streeching of my already sore body. There was your typical stuff, indian flute music, enya, Mustang Sally. It was pretty standard I guess, though I questioned Mustang Sally. Then Sexual Healing came on. I was fighting with all my might not to bust out laughing and thus causing me to fall from the barking horse position. I fought the temptation well. There were snickers from me, but there were only audible by my immediate yogamates (yeah, I made that word up). I thought this couldn't have been more perfect, sexual healing, yoga, through in a bottle of cheap wine and it's an over 50's idea of a second honeymoon. At this point I wanted out more than a fat kid wants a cupcake. Unfortunately the exits were at opposite ends and I didn't want to break anyone's mental concentration. I know Sexual Healing can be trance inducing, especially while the instructor is persuading you to...and I quote..."Thrust your hips up into the reverse plank and repeat three more times." My mind flashes to a robot with flailing arms screaming "danger David Mac, danger." This went on for about an hour, then the yogi says thanks and see you later. I then hauled ass.
I was the only guy, besides the instructor there, it was like one of those bad sitcom shows where the wife drags the hubby in to "share" common interests. Except I had no significant other. I was stuck looking like a pervert coming to a class full of women. I avoided eye contact for fear seeing my future of pitched forks and torches. Me running saying "I didn't know it would be this awkward", the mob of PC upity women chasing me through the dark forest hurling tampons at me to make me feel more out of place. Scare. At least I was able to recognize I was "that guy" and knowing is half the battle. Next week, yoga, same bat time, same bat place, the only different is that class will be sans a "that guy."
Wednesday, January 18, 2006
Gotta Get Upstairs
Do you ever get that BLAH feeling and don't know why. It's not that anything bad has happened or is really looming in the near future. Maybe it's to much information, too many questions, or just too much stuff written down on that "To Do" list. When I get in this mood I become real lazy and apathetic. I am usually an outgoing person, but when I have "the funk," as I call it, I just don't feel like talking to anybody. I can be in a full room and be completely content not talking to anyone. I say content because I know this is the choice I have made to be in this mood. I can easily switch from sullen and pensive to happy and cheerful, but sometimes that introspective time of BLAH is good for you.
One night around 12:30- 1:00am, a buddy of mine decided he wanted to drive home. Not an uncommon decision by any means, but he lives over and hour away in Longview. I questioned the intelligence of this move and wondered if was safe for him to go, cause I am a good friend. I asked if he would have any trouble staying awake. He replied "I've got to much going on upstairs to have to worry about that." By upstairs he meant lots to think about. I've started using that phrase to describe when I have a lot on my mind. Mostly the times up stairs are for mulling over certain worries, future plans, or my loved ones.
Well, if you haven't figured, today is one of those Blah days. Lots going on upstairs and I choose not to be overtly cheerful and outgoing today. I enjoy the opportunities when I am in the right mood to just think about what's going on around me. In about 30 minutes I am going to go to the gym, put my headphones on, and listen to music as I run. Running I hate, but the music I love, plus it gives me a good reason not to talk with anyone. Everything's fine, but today is a day of thought. So be it.
One night around 12:30- 1:00am, a buddy of mine decided he wanted to drive home. Not an uncommon decision by any means, but he lives over and hour away in Longview. I questioned the intelligence of this move and wondered if was safe for him to go, cause I am a good friend. I asked if he would have any trouble staying awake. He replied "I've got to much going on upstairs to have to worry about that." By upstairs he meant lots to think about. I've started using that phrase to describe when I have a lot on my mind. Mostly the times up stairs are for mulling over certain worries, future plans, or my loved ones.
Well, if you haven't figured, today is one of those Blah days. Lots going on upstairs and I choose not to be overtly cheerful and outgoing today. I enjoy the opportunities when I am in the right mood to just think about what's going on around me. In about 30 minutes I am going to go to the gym, put my headphones on, and listen to music as I run. Running I hate, but the music I love, plus it gives me a good reason not to talk with anyone. Everything's fine, but today is a day of thought. So be it.
Monday, January 16, 2006
In God We Trust?
I wonder about the piousness of our country. We are a nation founded on religious freedom and the ability to choose what, when, who, and why we worship what we do. But, recently it seems as if religion is only important if it doesn't conflict with politics, the bill of rights, and football schedules.
I look at other countries and the fortitude of faith they have. Take Israel for example, Sharon was not popular with everyone, but dissenters made it known that they would still pray for him and his healing. When someone mentions in a prayer to bless our President and Government, how many secretly condemn or forgo that portion of the prayer?
Take the recent tragedy stampedes. These believers travel every year to throw stones at three pillars in a symbolic gesture of defeating the devil. Albeit it may be a little strange in our eyes, but this is something they believe in with their whole being. It was widely know how dangerous that pilgrimage was. This was no the first incident of 100+ deaths, yet it did not keeps them from making the spiritual journey. Facing fear head on.
Then, and I know this is silly fiction, there are some of the movies I have seen. Religious men pushed to breaking points over there religion. Forfeiting their life in the Name of God/Allah with out batting an eye. They live in the true comfort of complete faith.
Then look at us. Afraid of stepping on others toes. Ten Commandments statues found unconstitutional at court houses, lesson plans curved to "neatly" not offend (that's a well rounded education, huh), and the controversy of "In God We Trust" on our monies . I guarantee Franklin, Jefferson, and even MLK would would be abashed at us. They would probably pull their wigs back on and kick our butts for straying from what the "Framers" of our country intended our rights to be.
How about Pat Roberts. Now there is a character. He has had to publically apologize more lately than Howard Stern's lawyers. This person is considered a religious leader.
Basically I wonder what the other countries, people, or religions do to be so united. Maybe it is the adolescence of the United States that lends to these lapses in Religious Strength. A country founded by Christians, with a majority of Christian inhabitants and leaders, yet what our country stood for is pushed aside. Not even just Christianity, but all religions are being forced into proverbial corners so is not to offend. I say it's part of religious journey. Living together despite religious choice. Learning from each other. Jesus gives examples of this; The Samaritan, the Women at the Well, etc. But no, in order to keep our worldly rights we disregard out heavenly promise and legacy. Thank God for Grace and the ability to be forgiven.
(yeah, I haven't' researched a whole lot...or really any, for the above post. So, chalk up ignorance and misinformation to misguided views, I don't really care how you think about it actually. I do know there are two sides to every story, too. Peace out.)
I look at other countries and the fortitude of faith they have. Take Israel for example, Sharon was not popular with everyone, but dissenters made it known that they would still pray for him and his healing. When someone mentions in a prayer to bless our President and Government, how many secretly condemn or forgo that portion of the prayer?
Take the recent tragedy stampedes. These believers travel every year to throw stones at three pillars in a symbolic gesture of defeating the devil. Albeit it may be a little strange in our eyes, but this is something they believe in with their whole being. It was widely know how dangerous that pilgrimage was. This was no the first incident of 100+ deaths, yet it did not keeps them from making the spiritual journey. Facing fear head on.
Then, and I know this is silly fiction, there are some of the movies I have seen. Religious men pushed to breaking points over there religion. Forfeiting their life in the Name of God/Allah with out batting an eye. They live in the true comfort of complete faith.
Then look at us. Afraid of stepping on others toes. Ten Commandments statues found unconstitutional at court houses, lesson plans curved to "neatly" not offend (that's a well rounded education, huh), and the controversy of "In God We Trust" on our monies . I guarantee Franklin, Jefferson, and even MLK would would be abashed at us. They would probably pull their wigs back on and kick our butts for straying from what the "Framers" of our country intended our rights to be.
How about Pat Roberts. Now there is a character. He has had to publically apologize more lately than Howard Stern's lawyers. This person is considered a religious leader.
Basically I wonder what the other countries, people, or religions do to be so united. Maybe it is the adolescence of the United States that lends to these lapses in Religious Strength. A country founded by Christians, with a majority of Christian inhabitants and leaders, yet what our country stood for is pushed aside. Not even just Christianity, but all religions are being forced into proverbial corners so is not to offend. I say it's part of religious journey. Living together despite religious choice. Learning from each other. Jesus gives examples of this; The Samaritan, the Women at the Well, etc. But no, in order to keep our worldly rights we disregard out heavenly promise and legacy. Thank God for Grace and the ability to be forgiven.
(yeah, I haven't' researched a whole lot...or really any, for the above post. So, chalk up ignorance and misinformation to misguided views, I don't really care how you think about it actually. I do know there are two sides to every story, too. Peace out.)
Friday, January 13, 2006
Nothing like a little R and R
Men are fierce when it comes to sports. Full-contact, bone crushing, no girls allowed, sports are what we live for. There are all types of manly sports...football...soccer...rugby...EXTREME racketball. Check out ESPN Ocho and you too can see the blood and sweat going into extreme racketball.
Ok so I lied. There is no organized sport called extreme racketball. There is also no such station as ESPN Ocho, but it's gaining popularity in the alleys and local gyms where you are. Or, mostly it's just a game the roommates and I came up with. Here's the scoop.
There are three people living in the Hostel (knickname of the house), we all like racketball, you're only suppose to have two people playing at a time, we have an affinity for breaking the rules or adapting rules to encompass our intentions, blend all of that together and bake on high for a hour. Let cool for 4 seconds and you have a kick butt sport.
Actually it's a game that rotates scoring positions, and therefore, at any given time pits two players against one. Drew has the advantage as having played NCAA tennis, oh yeah, and being like eight feet tall. Long arms, long legs, yeah, he sucks...at life, but not racketball. The game is fast paced and fun. There is also the added bonus of being potentially dangerous. Getting zinged with a small blue ball traveling 80 feet per second hurts when you are ten feet from your opponent.
We play mostly for exercise, but I swear we end up burning more calories from laughing at each other than the physical activity. Today I laughed to extent where I was almost falling on the ground incompasitated. This fit of laughter came at a particular dashing dive equal to that of giraffe on ice, with the end result in some one getting hit with the ball. Demented it seems, but hilarious it always is. By the way R and R, for those who still don't get it. Roomates and Racketball.
Ok so I lied. There is no organized sport called extreme racketball. There is also no such station as ESPN Ocho, but it's gaining popularity in the alleys and local gyms where you are. Or, mostly it's just a game the roommates and I came up with. Here's the scoop.
There are three people living in the Hostel (knickname of the house), we all like racketball, you're only suppose to have two people playing at a time, we have an affinity for breaking the rules or adapting rules to encompass our intentions, blend all of that together and bake on high for a hour. Let cool for 4 seconds and you have a kick butt sport.
Actually it's a game that rotates scoring positions, and therefore, at any given time pits two players against one. Drew has the advantage as having played NCAA tennis, oh yeah, and being like eight feet tall. Long arms, long legs, yeah, he sucks...at life, but not racketball. The game is fast paced and fun. There is also the added bonus of being potentially dangerous. Getting zinged with a small blue ball traveling 80 feet per second hurts when you are ten feet from your opponent.
We play mostly for exercise, but I swear we end up burning more calories from laughing at each other than the physical activity. Today I laughed to extent where I was almost falling on the ground incompasitated. This fit of laughter came at a particular dashing dive equal to that of giraffe on ice, with the end result in some one getting hit with the ball. Demented it seems, but hilarious it always is. By the way R and R, for those who still don't get it. Roomates and Racketball.
Wednesday, January 11, 2006
Bet You Don't Know Where I'm Going With This One
So the previous post was basically just a vomiting of thoughts in my mind, nice image huh. I noticed it has been about ten days since my last post. Apparently my link gets bumped at nine inactive days. I'm cool with that.
Right now I am sitting in my living room, all the lights in the house are off. No movement, no distractions. Just the glow of the laptop and the melody of Death Cab ringing in the dark. One of my roommates has been out of town this week, and the other one mostly uses the home as a storage unit. So that's given me a lot of time flying solo this week. It's pretty damn nice, but I do miss my peeps (that's people/homies/friends for the over thirty crowd joining us today).
These next few months are going to be crazy. I am going to be in Houston, Jackson, Dallas, New Orleans, Cincinnati, Vegas, and hopefully Baltimore all before the end of May. When I am not out of town I am going to be jammed pack with the goings on here in town. I am not complaining, 80% of those trips are going to be fun, and I do intend on maximizing the fun in each city, but I am going to have to take some time off to just be...Just Be, the essential to a mentally healthy life.
I need to squeeze some camping in there too at some point. A weekend trip to RKansas, as I call it, for some hiking and tom-foolery. You want peace? Here's how you get it. Pack a bag, hike a mountain/hill sit on top and eat lunch. No talking, little thinking, just be in the moment. That's awesome.
Colin and I hiked the shining rock trail in NC a few years ago. We sat on top of the largest quartz or granite or some kind of rock and looked out at everything and said nothing, but nothing needed to be said. One of the most peaceful moments in life. Which brings me to the best meal ever...Write this down: Get two pieces of bread, put light mayo on one slice of bread, processed cheese on the other along with a generous helping of thinly sliced turkey. Here's the hard part, put them together, and put the whole thing in zip lock bag. Now, take the sandwich and put it in your back pack. Don't worry about placing it at the top or out of harms way, it tastes better smashed a little bit. Hike 8 miles uphill. Rest on a big rock or dead tree limb. Eat sandwich, garnish with Nature's Valley Granola Bars, a pear, and luke warm water. Finish it up with half a snickers. Best meal ever. Always my first day meal on a hike. Now I'm hungry for that exact meal now. That's it, I am going hiking very soon, maybe by myself. Uncle Mike I need to borrow some gear...Stove and water filter...if you don't mind. Well, I am going to plan my trip...I know you love the randomness of my mind. Out.
Right now I am sitting in my living room, all the lights in the house are off. No movement, no distractions. Just the glow of the laptop and the melody of Death Cab ringing in the dark. One of my roommates has been out of town this week, and the other one mostly uses the home as a storage unit. So that's given me a lot of time flying solo this week. It's pretty damn nice, but I do miss my peeps (that's people/homies/friends for the over thirty crowd joining us today).
These next few months are going to be crazy. I am going to be in Houston, Jackson, Dallas, New Orleans, Cincinnati, Vegas, and hopefully Baltimore all before the end of May. When I am not out of town I am going to be jammed pack with the goings on here in town. I am not complaining, 80% of those trips are going to be fun, and I do intend on maximizing the fun in each city, but I am going to have to take some time off to just be...Just Be, the essential to a mentally healthy life.
I need to squeeze some camping in there too at some point. A weekend trip to RKansas, as I call it, for some hiking and tom-foolery. You want peace? Here's how you get it. Pack a bag, hike a mountain/hill sit on top and eat lunch. No talking, little thinking, just be in the moment. That's awesome.
Colin and I hiked the shining rock trail in NC a few years ago. We sat on top of the largest quartz or granite or some kind of rock and looked out at everything and said nothing, but nothing needed to be said. One of the most peaceful moments in life. Which brings me to the best meal ever...Write this down: Get two pieces of bread, put light mayo on one slice of bread, processed cheese on the other along with a generous helping of thinly sliced turkey. Here's the hard part, put them together, and put the whole thing in zip lock bag. Now, take the sandwich and put it in your back pack. Don't worry about placing it at the top or out of harms way, it tastes better smashed a little bit. Hike 8 miles uphill. Rest on a big rock or dead tree limb. Eat sandwich, garnish with Nature's Valley Granola Bars, a pear, and luke warm water. Finish it up with half a snickers. Best meal ever. Always my first day meal on a hike. Now I'm hungry for that exact meal now. That's it, I am going hiking very soon, maybe by myself. Uncle Mike I need to borrow some gear...Stove and water filter...if you don't mind. Well, I am going to plan my trip...I know you love the randomness of my mind. Out.
Life in Slow Motion
I have found there a few things that can keep up with me. My computer doesn't move fast enough...Which leads me to yelling at it. My cell phone doesn't operate as fast as I do...Which leads me to yell at it. The coffee doesn't make fast enough...Which leads me to yell at it. So this can only lead to one conclusion. I am a pushy, stressed out mess. I have fallen into the Mcdonaldization of society. Everything pushing towards a easy, fast way out. Fast Food, single servings, microwave dinners...short cuts, detours, bypasses...artificial turf, booth reviews, uneducated heros hyped up on "roids." Where is the purity. Where is the Sunday afternoon drinking lemonade and reading a ragged copy of a Louis Lamour book? I am constantly fighting deadlines and proficiently goals. Not to mention a slew of pissed off people. I say I have the aptitude to handle it, which I do, but at times I have to let my steam off. Thank God for Golf. I can picture every dimple of the ball as some person hell bent and determined to blame me for wronging them for some trumped up charge. Grip it and Rip it. Bye Bye people, hello easy chip shot for a birdie putt (if you don't know what that means, mom, let me know and I will explain it to you). Anyway, I am off task.
I read a book called McDonaldization of Society a while ago. The basic premise of the book was how society as a whole is moving to the easy way of life at the expense of health and enjoyment. There is some faux happiness people get with a quick fix, eating away at the heart of what many of us have grown up with. (right now you are saying to yourself "what the hell is he talking about." Truth be told I don't know.) I read this book a while ago, but some of the issues still stick in my head. For example...I have recently become a pretty big baseball fan, Go Cubbies, and have always been a soccer fan. Soccer has never been a high scoring game, so the intense release of excitment after a goal is addicting. Baseball use to be the same way, but mcdonaldized now with astro turf. This makes the ball bounce differently and move faster on the ground...end result higher scores. Which leads me to another rant. Ball players making millions of dollars, arms as big around as my head, but can't string a coherent sentence together. What the deuce is that? People Suck.
I read a book called McDonaldization of Society a while ago. The basic premise of the book was how society as a whole is moving to the easy way of life at the expense of health and enjoyment. There is some faux happiness people get with a quick fix, eating away at the heart of what many of us have grown up with. (right now you are saying to yourself "what the hell is he talking about." Truth be told I don't know.) I read this book a while ago, but some of the issues still stick in my head. For example...I have recently become a pretty big baseball fan, Go Cubbies, and have always been a soccer fan. Soccer has never been a high scoring game, so the intense release of excitment after a goal is addicting. Baseball use to be the same way, but mcdonaldized now with astro turf. This makes the ball bounce differently and move faster on the ground...end result higher scores. Which leads me to another rant. Ball players making millions of dollars, arms as big around as my head, but can't string a coherent sentence together. What the deuce is that? People Suck.
Sunday, January 1, 2006
Three Little Words
Damn I'm Good. Yes those three words describe my recent culinary victories. This past Thursday I cooked Lamb Tangine with potatoes and chickpeas. Sounds good, huh. Well, it was, but Dinner was served around 7pm, but cooking started at around 1pm. Yeah, that's right, that's six hour prep, marinade, and cook. That a long damn time. It began with cubing a 7.5 pound lamb. Not my most favorite thing to do. Not that I do it often, but I could be ok with not doing it again for a long while. It ended up being very good, we had 10 people over and ate on the floor. No, we did not eat off the floor, but in true Moroccan tradition, we took the top of the table off and laid it on the floor. We sat around on pillows and laughed at the exotic dinner party.
Today, for the first time, I cooked cabbage, black-eyed peas, and cornbread. It turned out to be an awesome New Years lunch. I think my favorite was the cornbread. Finally I have a cast iron skillet to make mom's secret recipe (actually it's Jiffy's recipe). It was good, good, good. Shout out to my sister for the awesome Christmas gift.
Now tonight I was roped into cooking breakfast food for a bunch of people. Three pounds of bacon, two and half pounds of sausage, 3 and half dozen eggs, and about 65 biscuits/rolls. It should be a blast. The premises was for everyone to come over here and watch movies and just relax, that is, except for the person cooking all this food. But I am not worried because I know before I go to bed I'll be able to say, "Damn I'm Good."
Today, for the first time, I cooked cabbage, black-eyed peas, and cornbread. It turned out to be an awesome New Years lunch. I think my favorite was the cornbread. Finally I have a cast iron skillet to make mom's secret recipe (actually it's Jiffy's recipe). It was good, good, good. Shout out to my sister for the awesome Christmas gift.
Now tonight I was roped into cooking breakfast food for a bunch of people. Three pounds of bacon, two and half pounds of sausage, 3 and half dozen eggs, and about 65 biscuits/rolls. It should be a blast. The premises was for everyone to come over here and watch movies and just relax, that is, except for the person cooking all this food. But I am not worried because I know before I go to bed I'll be able to say, "Damn I'm Good."
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