The Madness

I’ve always been a little self-conscious about my old and small motorcycle. It’s, well, old and small. A couple of my buddies recently got motorcycles and their tires (’tyres’ for all those U.K. readers) are wider than my engine is. That’s because their engines are about five to six times bigger than my 125cc engine. There are scooters and lawn mowers that are bigger than that.

The redeeming part of all this, though, is that it’s still a motorcycle. And while it’s not the instant lady bait my friends have, it is by design a good time. That’s because riding motorcycles is just fun. The word I think of often to describe the bike-rider connection is organic. All you tree hugging, free loving hippies out there will likely contest that word being associated with a machine that burns carbon based lifeforms and sends the dioxide and monoxide remains into the air.

In a car one just uses the steering wheel to navigate. On a bike, it’s a whole-body experience. After a while, it feels like the bike is reading your mind as you navigate through the streets. Those that drive non-automatic cars know a little of which I speak. It’s more engaging to use a stick than just the steering column along with the gas and brake pedals. A motorcycle trumps all those.

And my friend is right- a rider feels the wind, smells everything they pass through. Makes a car feel so insulated and lame.

Granted, a motorcycle is not the best plan for some people, some places and some time frames. But when it is, I can’t think of any better way go.

This post has been rumbling in my head for a week now. It’s the only thing I’ve thought of to write in a while. Last week my sister and I went to a church where, previously unbeknown to us, a one-man drama was planned to utilize the entire service. He’s a professional and the message was powerful: think real careful-like about what you’re doing on earth and what you’re storing up in heaven. It gave me the will to fight again for things I had been giving up on slowly. The cool thing was that my girlfriend got the same message at a different church and she let me know later that we were both on the same team as far as relationship goals, which was nice. Now that I write it, it becomes pretty watered down. It is cool, in case you haven’t picked up on that. So that was the first part of church drama.

Part two is the standard church drama. My girlfriend shared some personal information with a few friends who also hold various church positions. A few days later, various people who barely know her were asking her if she was ‘okay’ and ‘getting better’. Here’s a touchy subject for me when it comes to churches. I believe everyone is showing true concern for a church member when they share information like this. In the end, though, it becomes gossip and that’s some happy horseshit when random people approach with vague condolences so one doesn’t know how and how much they know. That’s just bad. The weird thing is that all those she spoke with were very supportive and close to her. So she doesn’t who or how the church rumor mill got a hold of that one. Hard to trust a church and not feel judged by them in situation such as that (I’m speaking personally here).

Should we then take a stance of ignorance then? I don’t think so. But I think the proper thing would be to either ask the person involved for clarification or stop the rumor circulation.

So I don’t really feel I’m communicating well today. Moving on.

Time… goes marching on. I don’t feel i’m using my time all that well these days. But i’m kind of in a bind when i say that because most of my free time is spent with my girlfriend, and that’s not bad by any means. At the same time, I need balance because other areas of my life haven’t received as much attention as i think they should. So where’s the balance? A relationship needs time spent on it to grow, but personal development needs to occur also. For example, I think I should blog more than I have been. Maybe I should examine how I spend time when I’m alone instead of just with my girlfriend.
It seems kind of insulting to her to say ‘i’d rather blog than spend time with you’.

And that’s all I’ve got. I’m kinda frustrate by this blog. Hope you get the message. Especially after reading my blogging neighbor’s latest, my laborious ramblings seem ridiculous.

This blog will likely be brief and quite likely without emotional connection to anyone but myself. I’m writing simply because it’s been forever (in the digital era sense of the word) since I last utilized this particular communication platform.

Beer, sex, parental drama. Is this a sorority? Sadly, no.

Hopefully writing will kickstart my brain into conjuring something  more reader friendly. I have less than three hours before I need to be at work for a nice 10 hour day.

Is this even worth publishing? No. But I’m going to anyways, if only to place a visible token of effort online.

The best you, constant reader, can hope for is that i start changing my life and that change includes more writings which are as entertaining as Dave Barry’s and as useful as Solomon’s.

Here’s a thought that ran through my head recently: When I was just one more awkward teen, I started using my cheap bike to perform tricks/stunts/magnificent wrecks it was never designed for. I took pleasure in performing routine maintenance on it despite my lack of knowledge. Fast forward to the present and despite the fact I just received a degree in automotive technology, I loathe all maintenance on my shrinking fleet of vehicles. How did I ever go from A to B? But the cookie crumbs don’t end there.

One desire for my life is to ‘get in shape.’ My upper body, for example, is pretty weak. My shoulders and wrists have undiagnosed but ever-present ailments. My posture is primate. My lower back cries itself to sleep. And i don’t mind physical activity. So what’s stopping me from adopting Nike’s slogan as my battle cry?

Let’s just look at one more illustration. A couple buddies of mine have come over on occasion and we’ve indulged in a little of whatever alcoholic beverage I have at my house and they in their car’s trunks. They, with or without alcohol, end up in some form of combat. And I just watch and make occasional remarks like “He’s gonna get your left hand” or “You smell like molding goat’s milk”. We’ve all had some shade of military experience and various levels and form of combat training. So is it a lack of testosterone that holds me back? Not really.

This all came back to me today as I was reading a book my brother has been digging into for a while. Self-described as providing a map to become a man. In the first chapter, the author says the question every male needs answered as he transitions towards manhood is: Do I have what it takes? One other premise is that we are partial men- always in need of change towards becoming a man.

I really began to understand why I’m so good at ignoring all the problems I listed before: fear. I’m gonna be honest here- I’m really good at putting on a smile and swagger to hide this seething discomfort inside. But I’m an observer for crying out loud. Being a writer or a songwriter is being doomed to observe one’s self and analyze and think in dangerous dosages. Not all is gloomy in my world, but especially on the issues above I get real edgy.

I really don’t feel confident in my car knowledge. Sure I’ve fixed some cars, but I approach each job with trepidation and leave anxiously. There have been no problems to date, yet I still am afraid. My bike wasn’t so complex and only i suffered when a nut wasn’t torqued correctly or part ‘C’ wasn’t correctly seated between parts ‘A’ and ‘B’. On paper, I have what it takes, but in reality I haven’t proven myself to… myself. Fear.

As for physical fitness and combat readiness, I also have papers that indicate I should be well developed in these areas. I mean, all that is wrapped up in my honorable discharge. But what you don’t know is that I struggled in the military to pass physical fitness tests. The upper body stuff. What you don’t know is that I almost died in a late-night wrestling match somewhere in Kuwait because I didn’t really expect a man I could move as gently as a baby to grasp my neck in a desperate, “idiot strength” stranglehold. I can’t remember a fight I’ve won. What you now know is that I’m afraid- scared i’ll do the wrong thing at the wrong time and someone else will pay. Paralyzed by fear
I’ve discovered fears within the past year and faced them. Yes, ballroom dancing was one of them. And I’m working on my lost-lasting abhorrence of seafood. Those fears I mentioned earlier are from so long ago they may be inherited. I feel like I should be able to do this stuff, but in the end do nothing.

I can identify some areas of my life where I’m much more confident and far further down this road to masculinity. There are other areas where I’m just getting to that point I know I’m headed in the right direction- romantic relationships are a good example. For a long time I didn’t feel like I could, and now I feel like I can but have a loooooooong way to go before I do things ‘right.’

Knowledge can be good. Knowledge for the sake of knowing is only a liability. Does is matter if i can discuss the differences in trajectory, fragmentation and tissue destruction patterns between the five-five-six and seven-six-two NATO standard ball rounds? not when i’m trying to wrench on a car.

Some of the most important life lessons I have learned on my own- thankfully not all of them. My knowledge is in the head- I need more in the heart. Here I am- a Partial Man, full of fear and sometimes loathing.

I just never thought it could happen to me. I mean, I’m young and active- isn’t this a problem for older men? But no; the sad raw truth is that I have all the symptoms:

• no unexplainable disappearances into the electronics section of retail stores
• fewer conversation with strangers based solely on their portable electronic devices
• the strange ability to buy only what one came into the electronics store for
• getting a gift card and walking around a giant electronics store without raising one morose eyebrow at a single box packaged in glossy, seductive packaging with really amazing specifications and packed with a scintillating array of gadgets and the accompanying cable fever.

For me, it was the last symptom that really nailed down the diagnosis. It’s really unnerving. I’m less of a American because I’m not buying. Of course, I know there are others who are struggling just like me, but I feel so alone. I’m sure I could find a support group on the internet or call somebody on my cell phone, but this digital apathy pervades all aspects of my life. My past indulgences in all things electronic made me a one-time the envy of the block. Now I’m imprisoned by my own gadgetry. No matter what I try, I can’t fix myself: reading gadget magazines with their full page fold-out shots; hearing about some new sci-fi fiction turned reality like holographic storage; wandering slowly through my favorite stores. It’s all in vain, and somewhere deep inside, I know this already.

This Geek Drive, this force that propelled me to lose sleep for so many nights and strain my eyes over and over, has betrayed me and has left me empty of desire and passion.

I’ve lost my Geek Drive.

Is there a pill for this?

Hey y’all, a picture paints a thousand words, so take a careful look at this picture. Click on it for the whole story.

Thought I’d surprise everyone and write a blog during the week. I’ll jump into some newsy material before I forget. I read on the BBC web site about the U.S. Marine Corps’ latest tattoo regulations: all large tattoos are now prohibited. Prison sentences will reward those who get or touch up large tattoos. I find this interesting because the Army just relaxed its tattoo requirements to help fulfill enlistment quotas. The Army is making things easier and the Marines are making things harder to get in. And stay in. Hmm.

Ah, yes- I knew I wanted to discuss (a term used loosely here- perhaps with some comments it will maintain its more common meaning) something else: sleeping. More specifically, sleeping with my eyes open. I have come to the conclusion that I’m pretty sure I’ve done this recently. About a month ago I had this dream in which I could see the outline of my door frame and out into the hall which is dimly lit from a small light in the kitchen. That small light is the ‘don’t kill yourself trying to go weewee in the middle of the night’ light. Fine, it’s a night light.

Anywho, everything in the dream is exactly the same as real life. And then I awoke, blinked a few times, and the view never changed. So I’m guessing I was sleeping with my eyes open. This relates back to a previous post wherein I stated my continual misgivings about spiritual beings. What I forgot to mention in that post was a dream I had on two separate occasions. Basically it goes like this: me looking through door frame, ball of light comes aggressively at me, I shout at it, it goes away, I hyperventilate for a few minutes and go back to sleep. If I slept with my eyes open, the explanations for these dreams are a bit more palatable. As a side note, they freaked me out. Pretty bad. I felt paralyzed and unable to shout. On the other hand, I awoke on another occasion after sleeping in a similar position and I felt paralyzed again, but with no angry balls of light to shout/slur at.

Speaking of household aggressors, my domestic policy is to let spiders be. If I see a spider in my house, I perform a visual examination to gauge its toxicity. If it looks happy enough and is a reasonable distance from any sedentary location (i.e. bed, couch, shoes, nostril) I will give them a warm welcome followed by a stern talking-to about the house rules and then move on. And I gotta tell you- my chakra levels are kickin’! That last sentence is a lie- I have no clue how my chakra levels are doing these days.

The surprising thing is that I’m still alive. Seriously folks- I’ll be here all night There’s only been once instance of an angry spider since I instituted that rule. He was stalking me; he with his wild color scheme and patiently sinister, no-web-necessary attitude. Just watching…and waiting…until my guard went down and he could pounce. That little guy, well, he had to go. Weird how a creature 1/60th my size could inspire such a large negative reaction. I wonder if elephants think that same thing about us. Or maybe whales.

And let me chat a little more about my last blog- the part where I worried that ’settling down’ would impair the free-loving, long-haired greasy hippie in me. I just want to make it clear I’m not a misogynist. I don’t think I’m the Die Hard/Rambo/Days of Thunder guy who’s women are incapable and unwilling to be adventurous and self-sufficient. There are plenty of shared adventures to be had, for starters. And for two, I’m not really that guy. Most of the time I just hang out in my quiet apartment and make up silly songs on my guitar. Or try to trick my computer into cooperating with my latest deviant plan. So it’s not like my life is filled with dangeresque activity anyways. I can be that introspective, commentary-on-the-world writer guy. I’m not all balls and no brains. Especially if those rumors about Mountain Dew are true.

Now I’m just getting crass. The point of all that was to say that once situated in the proper relational arrangement, I believe I will be part of something much greater than I could ever be on my own. And I will not regret it one bit.

P.S. If I forget to write about the church that  I have several complaints against, but still liked, please remind me.

…And that person would not be me. Actually, I was a few minutes early to my first class. Not much to talk about, so I’ll just make up random bits of life. Let’s start with postsecret.

If you’re not checking the postsecret web site once a week, you are wrong. fix yourself. this week there is a link to a radio show the creator of the postsecret project was on. It provides a well-rounded background on the whole thing and it, although quite long (approx. 42:48), is fascinating. You can find the link on his website or use this little buddy.

Deep breath… My ‘puter just about crashed just now. I think we’re safe.

Saw a series of videos from a female comedian (comedienne? comedy person? person with comedic intent?) for the oh! oxygen network. you can find her body of work at shedidwhat.tv. And I did indeed exclaim, on several occasions, say ‘unnnnnnnngggghhhhhhhhh’. That’s pretty much equivalent to ’she did what!?’

For something a bit more personal and solid… I just had dinner with a couple I’ve known for a long time through church. To be accurate, it was a another person’s house with other folks in attendance. But I digress. This family’s father is a gung-ho military type who just talks in a way that indicates the impossibility of error. Fine. Actually, that has little to do with this rant, so I’ll try to get to what I wanted to whine about: family cultures.

I’d like my kids to have a decent understanding of life, love, death,sex,taxes and farts from an early age. If not understanding, then at least trust in their ability to communicate anything with their parents. But it still struck me odd the aforementioned man was talking with me (more like talking at me) about war. I mean, yeah, I was in Iraq. It was hot; people shot at me every so often. But this guy is talking about how his wife had to make him promise not to volunteer himself for wars. And it could be that he, being in a guard unit, feels the need to prove himself. fine. But there’s a family that would really do well with him in it. So two trains of thought evolve from this: challenge/accomplishment and family culture, which I’m still getting around to. I’ll try to keep going on that. It just threw me off to hear his sixth-grade kid jumping into the conversation to ask if any of the pictures of military members his dad was looking at showed people who had been killed. Is that normal? Is that healthy? I dunno. Seemed a little callous. Their family has always been very strict and militaristic. They all seem to do pretty well like that - better than my family would have. One important thing is that both parents agree on how things are done. I think I would create a different culture in my family. One a little more fitting to my laid-back, So. Cal, ‘hang-ten’ kind of lifestyle.

The other part, the bit about accomplishment, is that guys are challenge based. A buddy of mine recently felt a little weak on his picking up of ‘da ladies’ abilities. Also, he felt lonely. Also, he looked at his friends and family and saw they were all computer nerds who are anti-social and doomed to a life of lonely nerd-dom. Yes, that includes me. So before it was just a passing sorrow, but now it became a challenge and he really did some research on the subtle art of attracting women. He became quite passionate on the subject and really quite successful, the degree to which would vary in the observer’s eye.

And it was straightforward to gauge success: if a girl caught his eye and he then caught her digits, all was well. Likewise, when I was running around a desert with a semi-automatic rifle, it was much easier to feel like something was being accomplished. Nowadays it’s hard for me to feel like I’m doing something of worth despite the fact I’m exactly where I want to be.

So I can see it being difficult to, as a father, find a job field that’s challenging and rewarding yet still place priority on the family and work just as hard at being an excellent lover/teacher/zerberter vice workaholic. And not getting killed.

Did that make sense? The jobs I want are not conducive to my ideal of a proper family environment. Is my future family then to be expected to put up with my long, unexpected absences? Am I to choose a job field that ensures we all get dragged into harm’s way but stay together? Or will I just ’settle down’ and feel like a caged lion? Or will I just ’settle down’ and have no regrets?

The hot Latino lover I was talking about before recently left work to pick up food for himself and another guy. The order had been written on a sticky note, which was then shoved into his pocket and subsequently retrieved upon ordering. As he pulled out the sticky note with its barely-there adhesive, he became aware that it still had had enough glue to grab a condom on the way out. So there he stood, in line, with a post-it note and a condom. Awkward…

I know, I know. You’re already sick of my incessant references to facts and figures about the world around us. I’m writing just to talk about another bit o’ news, so if you don’t like this, please stop reading. Now.

I mentioned culture differences earlier. If one felt compelled, I think some interesting comments would arise from other’s experiences in foreign cultures. ‘Frisco counts.

So here’s my confession: I subscribe to the RSS feeds of not only BBC news, but also (that’s my favorite correlative conjunction, just so you know) to the Al Jazeera English news feeds. Often their stories are similar. The other day there was an interesting twist: March 10th is one of two possible birth dates for Mr. Osama bin Laden and Al Jazeera had an article aboot how he would be living if he is alive. It’s great propaganda. I would encourage you to read it here: Al Ja Effing Zeera, beech.

And if that’s too offensive, you can just read about it here.

Before I forget, remind to kill my keyboard because it’s making me very angry. You don’t want to see me angry.

Now that I’ve got that off me chest, I will record my original thought as weakly foreshadowed in the title. I was asked in a conversation tonight why Iraq hasn’t been the ’success’ everyone wanted. One part of the problem is that we’re trying to sell our ideals, morals, precepts to people group who at best don’t want them and at worst fight against them. Do Iraqis really want democracy? I believe you’d be surprised at the heartfelt responses you’d get from asking them that question. To over simplify: Just ’cause [some of them] didn’t want Hussein doesn’t mean they want Bush.
The culture I really wanted to talk about is those crazy Frenchies. There is a deal between the French culture ministry and Abu Dhabi (the capital of the United Arab Emirates) to show Louvre art collections in a U.A.E-based museum. They will pay $524 million just to use the name, let alone for the art and French architect. And here’s where the French culture differs from the American- the French are pissed that there is money involved. They feel that it is unethical to charge money for art and that moving it to Abu Dhabi for a year or two at a time is too great a risk, esp. for the “unscientific” showing it will receive. Read about it here.
Can you imagine Americans mad at our government for making money off of another government?