A response to an ever-present schmoe.

Reminiscent of Mr. Poe, if I do say so.
You speak of a woe
that only few can know.
A woe so oft thrown,
yet few catch and own.
But, sir, I myself row
When I thinkst' you think us a foe.
There for, I say: I dis'gree so.
No. No. No. No.

Oooooooooooobama.

Speaking of the impossible, did anyone catch that game last night? Jeez. The hogs took home the Golden Boot as they snuffed out LSU in the 3rd OT, which as many headlines are reading "crushed any BCS dreams" LSU may have had. In a way, I kinda feel bad for them. If it weren't Arkansas, then I'd feel like LSU was a good team that got beat by a bullshit team. Like when we lost to Vanderbilt at home a few years back ('04).

Everyone says the game ball goes to D-Mac, but he's got enough freakin' balls already. I'm giving it to Peyton Hillis and Matteral Richardson. Hillis consistently converted 3rd downs throughout, and Matteral recognized the OBVIOUS slant patterns they were running with 3 wide-outs. (Like, I dunno... all fucking night?)

Continuing on. I was having a conversation with a friend last night about how people tend to walk all over me. It's true, I'm too nice. But I can be a real dickhead sometimes. It happens. Anyway, here's my train of thought:

Booooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo.

Next topic. Thanksgiving went exceptionally well. Dad gave my sister and I the spoils afterwards, so now we'll have lunchmeat for the next year few days. Awesome.

Oh, next up--- I have a few new additions to my shit-list.

1. Alex's girlfriend.
Crimes: screening my calls when I'm trying to get in touch with Alex. Following me around town and when I finally stopped, she got out to see if Alex was with me (he wasn't). Being an all-around bee-yatch.

2. Sarah, Leigh, and Amanda.... SHUT THE FUCK UP ABOUT HAVING ME TAKE YOUR PHOTOS. Yea, you guys say you want pics done, and then you don't call for two weeks, then I see you out somewhere and you say, "When are we going to get my photos done?" Pfffft. Bitch, they ain't your photos yet. That involves money.

3. Jordan, from the bar. Stop being such an uptight prick. Seriously, man, it's not sexy. You're a fucktard.

The Hillary Question

So out it comes, my comprehensive opinion toward the presidential candidates, which I know you've all been waiting faithfully to read.

First things first. Senator Hillary Rodham Clinton, the first woman to run for President of the US. Very cool. Yes, she has experience. Sure, she's got a nice voting record. Hell, she's made huge improvements toward being more familial toward Americans-- a feat I credit to her massively funded campaign staff, but it's worthwhile effort regardless.

Senator Clinton has come under fire over several "hot button" issues. One issue is her stance on immigration. She says "comprehensive reform" which I absolutely hate to agree with some pundits out there that "comp. reform" is simply code for "universal amnesty". It really is.
Immigration policy today reminds me of playing tag in the playground when I was 10. You had areas designated at "base" and everywhere else, you just had to run like hell to avoid being "it". Maybe it's more like hide-and-go seek, now that I think about it. The idea of unAmericanized people streaming into the country scares the bejesus out of me. Don't get me wrong. American is not to be confused with "white". All immigrants (legal) take an oath to receive citizenship. Hell, just to be a "resident" you have to take a crash course in American history.
The fact that hundreds of thousands of illegal immigrants see a quick and easy way to make money, most of whom send it back home to a dilapidated country (don't get me wrong, I feel bad for them, despite their pride) freaks me out. Sadly, there are established immigrants and okay-withs who see a chance to take advantage. They offer consistent work for shit-wages. For years, the US trumpeted the idea that anyone can have anything.

Dare I say, we've made it too easy ?

There's another thing. Clinton is under fire for claiming to have an edge as a leader because she is a "mother and a wife". This disgusts me, but there are many who are hitting back by saying what kind of wife would stay with a cheating husband? I supposed those people have never watched a single episode of Dr. Fuckin' Phil. There are those that say, "oh sure, it's easy for her to be a good wife and mother... she's filthy rich!" Oy. I'm sorry, but that's just freakin' moot. Nothing changes the fact that you're a mother, or a sister, or a brother or a father, a daughter or son. And if I were to subscribe to the fact that she may be different with money--- I can say this. It didn't come without her working her ass off for it in the first place.

My hand is getting tired typing this one-handed and jerking off with the other, so I'll wrap up this part with these words. Don't vote for Hillary because you're a woman. Don't vote for her because you're a friend of an immigrant. Don't vote for her because she'll provide universal health care.

Vote for her because you believe that her experience and wisdom as a politician outweighs the decades of corruption that she has swum through-- and that said corruption has not sculpted her policy.

Okay, I can't take it anymore anyway-- I'm voting for Obama. He's a one-time senator from Illinois, and he's exactly the kinda shaker-upper we need in Washington. Obama's humble. Obama understands the separation of powers. Obama may have a very short voting record-- but I say we need a man who hasn't had a chance to be corrupted by greedy SI groups. Obama all the way, baby!

Can you tell I wasn't sober?

An update on my following of the rules

Considering that my sister and I took a celebratory outing Monday evening to commemorate the small success of us finding a place to live and carrying out the move-in like two responsible adults, I felt that rule number one was made to be broken this week. I was in a situation where, like so many times a beautiful girl tried to use my good nature as a ledge from which to leap into the arms of a mysterious stranger. It was a sharp reminder that I have to trust my gut when it comes to these women.

Then, last night, I went out to meet a friend of mine and he never showed up. I was disappointed, but kind of relieved at the same time. I went home, ate a ham sandwich and watched Havana with Robert Redford. Then, I watched the Three Burials of MELQUIADES ESTRADA with Tommy Lee Jones. Both are good films. The latter, I felt, was masterful. Havana was a typical low-action mystery/romance. 3BME kept the tension like quiet thunder.




Rule number two has only been followed to an extent. The moving really gave me a workout and could be the breakthrough I need to keep pushing myself.

Three- my laundry is done. All my clothes are clean... Now I just have to find a washer and dryer for the new apartment and put it to action.

Saving up is hard to do, but I've managed to stretch less than $30 over the entire weekend and still have a great time.

I've followed rule number 5 with the exception of a McDonald's Double Cheese Burger right after we moved into the apartment.

I've done well by rule number 6, but haven't followed through completely. My responses to an article published yesterday (found here) were written on a small notepad at work, which I plan to discuss later today.

Finally, rule number 7 has been my biggest achievement. I figured out that there are some things I will not do and smoke at the same time. These things are merely distractions but one of them is writing. Following rule 6 will help with rule 7 by default. I will also not smoke while playing games or taking photos, so these activities will see an increase in the following weeks.

For those of you too lazy to look below at the rules, here they are:

1. Go out no more than once a week.
2. Generally exercise when I have the time.
3. Do laundry once a week.
4. Start saving up for something.
5. No more fried foods.
6. Write what I think more often.
7. Kick the smoking thing in the ass.

Last, I'll update in a few days with some photos of my new apartment. A while back I did a post on alternative lighting. Since the landlord has given me somewhat free reign over painting, light fixtures and cleaning the place up, I'll have an opportunity to get a little wacky with the lights. Should be fun.

Still can't sleep

I figured if I'm going to be an insomniac, I might as well put rule #3 into action. I think I need refuge. This place is swallowing me up and every time I look around, I see my failure to be responsible. There's crap laying everywhere, dirty clothes (mostly my sister's both the crap and the clothes) but still-- it's consuming me. As soon as I have enough clothes clean for tomorrow, I think I'm going to go to my mom's house and crash there.

Maybe it's the stress. I've always been able to just brush off stress, mentally at least, but there must be some breaking point where stress takes so much physical toll that the body reacts by not letting you sleep until you say "Okay! Goddamnit, I understand!"

Well, I wish it were as easy as just saying that and going to sleep, but my body likes to make a point and grind it in as deep as possible. No, that's not supposed to be sexual, either. Perverts.

Maybe some positive thoughts will do the trick. Today I felt really great about work. At around 6pm, the police scanners picked up radio alert that a bank had just been robbed. I watched the copy editor saunter into the photo office and see if he could round up a photographer. He came back with the photo editor, who asked me if I had my camera. It's always in my car, so I said, "Yep."
"Need you to go cover this bank robbery. It's on sunset, that's all we know."
So I got in gear and took off for Sunset. They had no idea which bank, or what part of sunset (it's a 3 mile stretch, with stoplights at almost every block). As I drummed on the steering wheel, puffing away at a smoke to calm my nerves, I saw a flash of yellow tape. I realized the patrol cars probably wouldn't have their lights flashing, so I rubbernecked and saw the reflective pinstripes on a car parked just beside Regions bank.

I had no idea what the protocol was for shooting this kind of thing, but from seeing other photos the staff (real) photographers had taken, I assumed they stayed at a safe distance and waited for an appropriate time to get some quotes from the directing officer, in this case, a Lieutenant who was at the scene. After I shot the scene, I interviewed him and got back to the office. Apparently I'd beaten the reporter to the scene and even got to the office with the photos uploaded before he'd even started writing.

I noticed he was dragging up older bank robbery stories and following their formats. I kinda wondered if that was a standard op for writers, but it seems to me that it would hinder originality. Then again, how original is robbing a bank? There's only so many ways you can write it, and if you get too flashy, people could be confused into thinking it's not really a bank robbery story.

The best part is that I was so ahead in my work that I managed to step away to shoot the robbery, come back to the office and catch up, then take a dinner break with a co-worker, come back to the office again and finish right at 11:05pm. My goal for weeknights is always 11pm.

Earlier in the day, I volunteered for a photo assignment early Saturday morning which would give me about 4 hours of extra work for Saturday, a day that I usually spend 10 or 11 hours at work due to university football games.

Wow. It's amazing to me how soothing talking about work is. This is the first full-time job I've ever had and I think I had a feeling when I started out that I was really gonna blow it. Not to jinx it now, but even coming this far makes me proud of myself. I've managed to get a job where if I really pull for it, I can get photo assignments like a staff photographer would. So far, I've covered three football games, some historic stagecoach commemoration event (Butterfield Trail Stagecoach) and then this bank robbery. It's pretty puny for 7 months of employment, but I nabbed the Adventure Race just by volunteering. Even though I have to get up at 5AM Saturday morning, it'll feel good to be back behind the lens. It's even cooler when I submit the work and later in the day get to edit my own photos just like I do for the staff photographers. I feel like even for a little while, I got to be part of a team. It's hard to feel like that with what I normally do, because my regular job is sitting in a dark room, updating the website and toning digital photos. Professional shit, I know.

Hard-to-the-core.

Well, I feel a little better now. Time to take the laundry out.

Time to take it down a notch

It's possible that I'm becoming the kind of person that people either love or hate. After the cataclysmic breakup from my ex, I basically went from a slow, downward dwindle to a lifestyle of darting back and forth between good judgment and irresponsibility.

Before then, I had every important person in my life tucked into specific areas...the ones who do bad things vs. those who do good, people who have direction and those that wander, people who crave attention and those who shun it.

My body has been getting very mad at me lately, and to spare you the details, let's just say that everyday wounds have been taking longer to heal. It's harder to wake up and get my day started-- although I've always been a bitch to deal with in the morning. Now, I'm seeming like a bitch to even myself.
Stubbing my toe on the way to my morning pee.
Hating very bright light.
Finding myself in situations where I'm having to throw the passenger out of my car, literally.
Rejoicing at even the slightest bit of good luck when similar things would barely earn a smile before.

Am I depressed? I don't think so. I think I am just finding happiness in some of the wrong places. I'm saddened when I realized that now that I'm in a position to care only for myself, I'm doing a shitty job. Am I supposed to wring a future parent out of who I am today? If I had to begin such a thing tomorrow, would I fall to pieces or be stronger in nine months?

Thankfully, I won't have to find out.

A lot of people think I'm joking when I tell them that I've taken a vow of celibacy. I thought this would make an impact on how I felt about life, but it hasn't. It's changed the way I view women, seeing as how I don't let flashes of get-in-her-pants instinct jostle my core like it used to. I get them and they pass, like a craving for a candy bar.

I don't know what's worse... planning to get a pack of cigarettes on the way home, and forgetting to stop at Walgreens, thereby continuing a bad habit--- or remembering once I'm home and just being too lazy to go a few blocks up the road and get it done.

I don't want to be in situations like that anymore. I don't want to have to limit my conversation the first hour or so that I'm up-- for fear that while I have a laugh, a phlem biscuit will come shooting out.

I don't want to look at the last 20 bucks I have in my pocket and try to calculate the impact that buying one more drink will have on the next day's budget.

So, right here, right now, I'm making a few rules for myself. They are paltry rules for a Jeffersonian, but for me, I think the strict application of these rules will push me back on to the path of having a healthy, productive, and enjoyable lifestyle.

1. Go out no more than once a week. It'll save money and my liver will thank me.
2. Walk more, stretch more, and generally exercise when I have the time.
3. Do laundry once a week, even if there isn't much to do.
4. Start saving up for something. Anything. Put money aside that I will not touch.
5. No more fried foods.
6. Since I read news stories all day, and form opinions on just about all of them, I should make a better effort to write those opinions down. I want to be healthy and wealthy when I do finally have kids, but I want them to have something of mine to prove that I was young, poor and stupid once-- just like they are/will be/have been.
7. Kick the smoking thing in the ass. I don't know how but I'm just going to try to smoke much much less.

That's it for now. I'll think of new rules as I go along, or when these rules are consistently adhered to. Eventually I'll expand on #2, setting more specific goals for my P.E.

This one's gonna be a gem, for sure...

What a day. When I woke up today, all I really had the intention of doing was getting my phone back from the guy who found it at the bar last Sunday; getting a cup of coffee; looking for a place to live; and going to work with the idea that I might finish early enough to grab a beer afterwards.

Well, all of the above actually happened, and then some.

First of all--- to the guys. Have you ever wondered to yourself-- nay-- fantasized about how you would hold up if you were to go mano-y-mano with a virtual stranger? Let's say it's a friend of a friend that just didn't really rub you the right way. You always had it in for him. You've kinda dreamed about him making the wrong move, saying the wrong thing, or even, for the extremists out there, grabbing your girlfriend's tit. How would you muster in a toe-to-toe, man-to-man, all out call out?

Tonight, I found out how I'd do.

First, let me chop the tension into pieces by saying that I won.

"Won?" The girls say, rolling their eyes. "This isn't a competition..." "That's so macho..." "Real men don't fight."

To you, ladies, I say... bullshit.

As I was trying to drive a friend-of-a-friend home tonight, he got violent and tried to grab the steering wheel of my car, and swerved it into the left lane. I fought him off in the car long enough to pull over to the nearest gas station, then got out (keys out of the ignition) and opened the passenger door. Then, I grabbed the collar of his shirt and dragged him out of my car, across the pavement, and onto the grass.

For those of you that know where I live, this is the EZ Mart off N. Leverette.

Once he realized, "Hey, my ass is really wet because the guy who almost crashed his car because I grabbed the steering wheel just dragged me into the grass at this gas station parking lot." He stood up and challenged me.

Nevermind that. I ignored him. But then he had to run up and pound on the hood of my car as I was trying to pull out.

So I put it in park. I got out. He swung, missed. Swung again, I blocked it. I had a good shot, but it looked like he was backing off, so I didn't take it. Then he swung again, and I blocked it and served him a right hook that sunk him like a sandbag on a New Orleans beach.

The good news is, I found a really cool place earlier today.

I wonder, now, if I'm going to be known as the guy who kicked Mammal's ass. Probably not.