Once again, the online tests dont tell me anything I didnt already know.
You're bad to the bone. Rules mean nothing to you, because you break them in every way possible. You're a rebel, and you mean business. You're strong and willing; people fear you. When someone pisses you off, you're not going to sit around and let them have their fun. You take revenge in the most dramatic way possible, therefore people know not to mess with you.
For this morning's fun, I'm going to share a few choice blurbs from a letter sent to the president of the university from a student that was angry with my office. I wish I could show you the whole thing, but that would be rather boring and redundant.
"I am writing to bring some problems which I have experienced during my 1 1/2 years as a graduate student living on campus."
- you're a grad student living on campus...... dork.
"I will also try to give some solutions to these problems."
- Gee, thanks.
"I'm from Binghamton, NY."
- you're from New York, and you're complaining? Unheard of....
"I rarely visit my car during the week, as I have a full time internship and school work."
- "I rarely see my kids, as I have a full time job." Does this make you any more or less responsible for your belongings? No....
"In december of last year my rear windshield wiper was ripped off of my car in the garage. No one was apprehended and little was done to increase protection for my car. Following this incident, I tried to park in the most inconspicouous location of the garage."
- No one was apprehended?! I'm sorry, let me put out an APB on a faceless momo wielding a windshield wiper. I checked when this was reported to us: more than 5 hours after he suspected the event took place. Our wiper ninja could have been in London fencing his wears by then... let me call Interpol. And as a result of being vandalized and worried it would happen again, he decides to park the car in a more secluded area. Must be a law student....
"Last year in february, I was ticketed twice for absence of current permit, even though it was clearly visible and attached to the window."
- One time mistake, I can believe. Twice starts to form what we goons call "suspicious circumstances".
"When the parking supervisor asked the student worker who had written the ticket if he had seen my sticker on the car he said no. The student was clearly lying."
- Oh, clearly. A student who gets no incentive for the number of tickets he writes clearly has more to benefit from you paying the ticket than you do for not having to pay the ticket. And I make it a practice to hire liars- its just easier that way.
"My tickets were voided, even though the supervisor doubted my word."
- "Dear lord, its Katie Holmes at my door wanting to rub me down with scented oils and feed me Totino's pizza rolls.... no, this is no good, she probably doubts my sexual prowess... I'll send her away." Momo.
"When I was an undergraduate and Binghamton University, I never had any problems with Public Safety regarding parking and traffic violations."
- SUNY Binghamton is a state school. A land grant school. Out in the middle of nowhere. All they have are parking spaces. And they have a staff no larger than mine. They probably didnt even know you were breaking the rules.
He goes on to talk about how my student staff is incompetent, inexperienced, and unprofessional, which I take personal offense to.
Incompetent: because they did their job and wrote tickets on your car, or because they couldnt read your mind and know that while your permit wasnt displayed, you did have a permit. Oh, maybe it was becuase in their nonstop enforcement of the regulations against idiots like yourself they didnt take the time to check each and every car just in case it had a permit. I mean, far be it from them to go by the regulations that clearly state it is the owners responsibility to ensure the permit stays in place. You remember signing that you read those regulations? No? Well I do, and I have your signature that says you did.... doesnt look good, Timmy Smallnuts.
Inexperienced: How does one gain experience at their job? By continually doing their job? Like this fuckhead- he's good at making blizzards at Dairy Queen because he does it all the time. The kids write tickets, day in and day out. Thats it. How much more fucking experience can I give them?
Unprofessional: Like someone breaking the law and then trying to blame it on the cops not doing their job.... no, thats Irresponsible... no, it's unethical.... no, I'm sorry, it's fucking ridiculous.
Oh, Mother Nature, you horrible tease.
You watch me through the open front door, beckoning me with every warm breeze.
"Come outside," you say, "the air is sweet and warm."
Be gone, most untimely temptress! Can you not see that I am bound by duty to this desk? Why do you torment me so?
err.... ok.... enough of that. As you were people, theres nothing to see here....
Everybody has been sprucing up their blogs, and I think I caught the bug. But, as you all know, my technical skills are limited. But thats a benefit of being in the ring- I have unlimited technical expertise at my disposal. :) I was wondering if one or more of you would give me some suggestions for how I could make the blog look better. I'd like to make a banner that has some sort of "expedition" theme- a compass, maps, that kind of stuff. Let me know what you think.
In other news- I worked the winter graduation yesterday. Nothing fun happened, so I spent the majority of the time walking around the arena doing my best to look imposing. I think I might just have that "I know what your up to" look down pat. But I can only take myself seriously for a short time, so eventually I had to leave post and do something else. I call it "doing a perimeter check", but really I'm just attempting to let my brain rest.
I've also decided that I dont enjoy the employee relations aspect of being a supervisor. I shouldn't have to mediate a pety argument about who had the longer break between two men old enough to be my dad. But I have to suck it up and listen, because I dont need anymore formal complaints issued against me by my subordinates. The last one was for telling someone they needed to "get their shit together and stop losing their driver's liscence." Apparently my fucking language hurt his fucking feelings. That reminds me of a great line that Dennis Farina has in "Get Shorty". Something along the lines of "They tell me that the fucking smog is why you have such beautiful fucking sunsets." Hehehe.... I love that line.
Back to the mines.
I thought that "Find your DnD stats" thing was too good to pass up.
Str: 15
Int: 12
Wis: 14
Dex: 14
Con: 8
Chr: 16
Looks like I need to stop smoking. Damn Achilles Heel..... ;)
Last night, as I was walking from my car to my front door, I caught a familiar scent on the breeze. It wasnt a waft of Vanilla Fields perfume (which, by the way, turns me into a hunk of playdough... damn olfactory memory), or the aroma of a favorite dish being prepared. It was the smell of crisp air racing through the fog, kicking mist into my face. It was the smell of soaked stone and wood. That slightly stale and empty odor that hits you when you step into an old church from out of the rain. I took a moment at the front porch and searched my brain to recall what memory I had attached to this amazing sensation of openess. Then it became quite clear. It reminded me of this.
Every spring and summer from the time I moved to Colorado until only a few years ago, I rafted the Arkansas. From Big Horn past the Narrows, I've logged more than 75 hours on water. I've been dumped, flipped, bounced against rocks, and sucked 10 feet down only to be pinballed by the undercurrent at high water and spit out 100 yards downstream, but still I went back. I've seen mountain goats fighting, mountain lions lounging only a few feet above me, and eagles picking up jackrabbits at full speed. I ran the Narrows with my cousin and some wrestlers from the OTC, and we surprised a couple of Kayakers who had stopped for a quicky before the class fives through Royal Gorge. The guy bolted for cover, leaving his lady friend with nothing more than a shammy to cover herself. She tried her best, but eventually gave up and, like some nude water nymph, blew us all kisses and wished us well. I've punched the wake at Wallbanger, taken the Stairs spinning, surfed the kick at ZoomFlume, and jumped clean over Sidells. I've run in every weather condition, from snowfall to nearly 100 degrees. I've run at low water in late summer, when even the smallest rocks are a technical nightmare, and I've run at high water in April, when the runoff hikes river levels to nearly 1400 cub. ft/sec. There were few spots I wouldnt tackle.
Sadly, I havent been in a long time. But my picture still hangs on the wall, and the water still pumps in my brain. I hear they run the upper Potomac. Maybe I should check that out.
You know its going to be a good day when you wake up in the morning to find the city blanketed in fog. Dont get me wrong- sunny days have their time and place. Some of my favorite places are my favorites because of the sun. But in general, sunny days are draining to me. But cloudy, foggy days are without a doubt the most effective in recharging my internal batteries. Now the only suck part is that I'm stuck inside until around noon, and by that time it'll be sunny again. Oh well.
Lots of good topics to write about posted in the last couple days. Where to start?
When I read Val's post about the progression of government, I was suddenly transported back to Modern Political Theory (8 am, Monday and Thursday, Senior year). And when he started to use China and Russia as test cases, I was nearly certain he had somehow managed to get his hands on my transcripts in an attempt to include references to every other class I took. For those of you that dont know, I graduated with a degree in International Studies, focusing on Political Transition in Central Asia and the Caucusus. Thats an unneccessarily long way to say "I had some idea what Val was talking about." Anyway- I was particularly intrigued by the idea of corporate dominated socialism. I realize that Val wasnt looking to debate on this subject, only share a well thought out theory of his, but I havent "talked shop" in a while, so humor me.
Without a doubt, the corporate world (I refrain from calling it corporate america, given the size and scope of many of the conglomerates that fit into this group) is one of the dominant forces in international politics, and only becoming more so. Socialist ideology is more rapidly finding new form in many business practices, both in the corporate and government arenas. Of course, its not called "socialism"- the stigma that our country has for that term is well established and needn't be questioned. However, the fundamentals, adjusted and adopted, could very well be beneficial. I also shy away from using Russia and China, who despite their motivations ARE eastern cultures, as examples in any western political model (yes- socialism, communism, and all the other isms are western models). Russia has been the "fat guy in a little coat" ever since Peter the Great opened the doors to the western intelligentsia, and China was doing ok after Mao kicked the bucket and Deng started to pull down the cult of personality. Look at the Scandinavian countries, they seem to have had better luck. The end result (after my tangent), is that where a coporation can have an influence on the popular culture, I doubt our government will ever fully relinquish regulatory control policy to the extent that a noticable political transition would occur. Thanks Val, I needed to reaffirm that gooning hadn't completely wiped away my thought process. :)
For Dusty- dont let the bastards keep you down. I dont know that I've ever gone home visibly upset, so I dont really know how best to deal with that one. Nor am I really in a position to be creative at work, and have that creativity sucked dry and mutilated by the powers that be. I can only imagine that's a kick in the teeth with cleats. But I do understand operational proceedures that make no sense, like your not having input before the fact. You've had a couple few more years of work experience than I have, and you probably would do better telling me how it is (you too, Val), but I figure I'll toss out my two cents anyway. I'm on a roll. When I get faced with situations like that, I simply resign myself to the fact that intelligence is not a prerequisite for leadership. More often than not, my supervisors have been so involved with the "planning" that the "operation" gets moved to the back burner. In my case, there are so many unwritten policies that even if the textbook action makes sense, its seldom carried out. Keep your chin up- if its any consolation to you, we all know how cool you are. :)
OK, thats enough for now.
Late yesterday afternoon, the newest heir to the Laidlaw throne was born to my aunt and uncle. The grandkids on that side of my family now range from 25 years to less than 1day. Congratulations to Uncle George and Aunt Kristin!
Its a big birthday weekend for the remaining Zodiac agents.
Happy Birthday to Dusty! I hope you have a great day on sunday, and that Matt doesnt decide to kill you off in the game! :) You put up with my continuous griping, and still have the ability to sympathize. I appreciate that very much.
and Happy Birthday to Dayna! You have yet to surface once again, but I have no problems waiting for friends. Whatever you're up to, I hope your having a good time. Have a happy day tomorrow.
And with that, I bid you all a fond farewell until Tuesday.
Just added a site meter, so now I can care even less about who reads this. :)
Heres some snippets from my morning. M refers to whatever momo said the idiot comment. N is me.
Scene One: X-ray Vision
M: Do you have change for a 20?
N: No, sorry.
M: I know you do. Come on.... I know you do.
N: You know I do? How is that?
M: You dont? Ok, where can I get change for a 20?
N: Do you know the bank on campus?
M: Yes. Should I try there?
Scene Two: The Lying Sign
Momo stands outside the door reading the sign telling people that the student ID office has been temporarily relocated to the student center, and providing the dates and times that this relocation is valid. A sign says in bold 72 point font "STOP! READ THIS FIRST. ALL ID ISSUES WILL BE RESOLVED AT THE ID OFFICE LOCATED IN THE MARY GRAYDON CENTER, ROOM 6" Momo opens the door while reading.
M: I need to get my ID recoded....
N: Mary Graydon, room 6.
M: But all I have to do is have it reprogrammed for my new dorm....
N: Ok, great. Mary Graydon, room 6.
M: So thats where the ID office is?
Scene Three: Call an Accomplice
M: Hi, I need information on a parking ticket.
N: Ok, whats the ticket number?
M: I dont know, I havent picked it up yet.
N: So you havent recieved the ticket yet? Are you wondering what the parking regulations are so you dont get any tickets?
M: No, I know the regulations. I want a ticket that lets me park in the lot.
N: Oh, you mean a parking permit. Are you a student or a staff member?
M: Yes.
N:
M: oh, sorry. I'm a student.
N: Are you a commuter student?
M:
N: Do you live on campus or off campus?
M: Off campus.
N: Are you full time or part time? How many credits are you taking?
M: Full time. I'm taking 12 credits.
N: Ok, now were getting somewhere. You need to come in to the parking and traffic office and fill out an application. Were in the Public Safety building on the south side of main campus.
M: How much is it?
N: Commuter parking for full time students is $260 for the semester, and allows you to park across the street in the Nebraska lot.
M: What if I say I'm a part time student? Is it less expensive then?
N: Excuse me?
M: No, really, is that cheaper?
I promised Mun and Muda that I would post about the rodent brushfire war on campus, but am at a loss for a starting point. The conflict has been raging on for as long as I can remember, each year getting more and more dangerous for the other fauna. The escalation of this conflict has created a tiny squirrel Maginot line, bisecting campus into distinct zones of control. On one side you have the larger gray squirrels, who at last report were the recognized squirrel government. A mere acorns throw away are the smaller fox squirrels. Clad in a mass of jet black fur, the fox squirrels look like little ninjas. They are the undisputed masters of the special operations aspect of this war. Before we proceed further, I think a brief timeline is in order.
1862- The Union army establishes an artillery position on highground (then owned by the Custis family) overlooking the Frederick and Georgetown roads, the major southbound arteries into the capital. It is here that both squirrel camps become indoctrinated into the military tradition.
1868- The government dismantles the fort, leaving the squirrels militarized and without direction. Lethargy runs rampant. Looting and pillaging begin in the surrounding animal communities. A lack of leadership and purpose leads to fierce infighting, and rival warlords begin to gather their supporters.
1893- an act of congress grants the Methodist bishop of washington charter to build a university on the site of the old fort. Monotheism clashes with a now deep rooted shamanistic tribal culture. Lord Skurvi Nutkin adopts christianity, beginning the great squirrel reformation. Icons are carved from pine cones and venerated.
More to come. Including current intel and an interview with one or both leaders.
When I was little, I used to follow my grandfather around the church as he did his duties as an usher. If people passed the collection plate along without giving their tithe, I became indignant. I would stop everything and, climbing into the pew to be face to face with the quickly reddening patron, would chide them saying, "It's for God, you know...." In retrospect, it seems my current occupation was only a short climb from strongarming for the Church of Rome.
But the point of this little story was to show that from an early age I have involved myself doing good deeds that no one else wanted to do. In middle school I both voluntarily and involuntarily cleaned graffiti from walls and mentored kindergardeners. The authorities called them "hyperactive". I found that in the Colorado educational lexicon, this translates roughly to "diminutive sociopaths exponentially more dangerous in packs". You think I exaggerate? Try jumping in to a game of hide and seek dodge ball with a pack of these kids. If they'd had blowguns, they'd have been pygmies. And I think one of them crushed Piggie with a rock.
Anyway- my benevolence continued through high school and college, and now I find myself once again doing someone elses dirty work. And I truly love it. I really enjoy helping people. I'm a humanitarian. I can think of nothing more I would want to do with my life than to spend it in the service of mankind.
This being said, I absolutely and whole heartedly dislike and pity 95% of the people that I meet. How can this paradox be? Did I do something horribly wrong somewhere along the line to be saddled with this contradiction? For the life of me, I can only think of two, maybe three really off base things that I've done in my life. And only one of them doesnt involve women and alcohol.... ok, maybe there are more than three. But there certainly arent more than, say, 6. And those arent even "bad" things, just a little tasteless. How about this- I'll agree that there is one bad thing, 3 highly questionable decisions, and a handfull of tasteless drunken debauchery. Still, I think I'm doing a pretty damn good job keeping my nose clean.
I asked my Mom about this, and she said that "you dont hate those people, you just dislike your job. Have you been dating?" This is a pretty common addendum to all conversations with Mom. I think that shes convinced that, had I the right wife, I would be a senator within a few short years. Mom has Fitzgerald blood in her, so shes perpetually hawking some merchandise and scheming ways to get me into a power position. I call it Joe Kennedy syndrome. But I love her to death, and she delivers nuggets of wisdom in every shovel full of advice. In this case, its the fact that I dont hate these people. I simply dont want to see them ever again in my office.
But even if I dont hate them, it still presents a problem in my mind. But I suppose its a big-picture, little-picture thing. Like how we can think that individual weapons are cool, but dislike the concept of war. Or how when Dad washes Mom's new angora sweater and dries it on warm, shrinking it into an angora napkin, she still loves him, just doesnt like him all that much. I guess I love the idiots as a whole, I just prefer not to deal with them one on one.
After reading Dusty's post, I have to wonder where this "I'm feeling old" streak has come from. Granted, two of us does not really constitute "a streak", but in my mind thats more than enough to indicate a trend worthy of discussion.
In my case, I cant attribute my general mood as of late to a few specific things:
1. Recent college graduates that continue to work for their alma mater in a position of authority fall into a awkward social group. I'm too young to hang out with the tenured faculty and staff, and too much of a cop to be a student. Dont even get me started on that ramifications this has with dating. Suffice it to say that my social circle has been severely constricted. Even after nearly two years, the effects of this are still evident.
2. Any law enforcement job, whatever the level of severity, forces one to be naturally more mature. At least thats what I would think, many of the officers and shuttle drivers that work for me think 'mature' is a "health shake for old folks."
3. I'm slow and sloppy. Some would say "I'm not quite as healthy as I once was", but I prefer to cut the small talk. If the old me met the new me on the street, the old me would kick the new me's slow and sloppy ass.
The worst part about all of this is that I know how to fix the problem, yet cant seem to summon up the motivation to do so. If I quit smoking, quit drinking Pepsi, started eating right, and went back on a exercise regimen, everything would get better. But that just sounds so damn bland. So I think I've decided to enter negotiations with my better judgement. They'll begin with a broad sweeping proposal of complete lifestyle alteration, I'll counter with and upraised middle finger, and we'll end up settling with a contract looking something like the following:
A. One (1) Pepsi or other caffeine related product a day, provided the subject ingests the RDA of water.
B. At least 30 minutes of physical activity each day, including a mandatory push-up/sit-up routine and cardiovascular outdoor event (including forward momentum, not including pacing while smoking).
C. One (1) multi-vitamin will be taken each day to prevent the motard from falling down so much.
D. Fast food lunches will be cycled out of the diet over a period not to exceed two weeks. This will require subject to buy more than beer and hot pockets from the grocery store, including at least one green-vegetable-esque object in sufficient quantity to constitute a "serving" rather than a "garnish".
E. Smoking must cease, except under the following circumstances:
1. The subject is guarding something, following someone, interrogating someone, or otherwise engaged in or having been engaged in a goonish act.
2. The subject finds himself in conversation with a striking and nubile aptly named femme fatale, KGB mastermind, or other Bond-style character.
3. In the likely event that the subject finds himself too intoxicated to remember, and the unlikely event he finds himself in the throws of post-coital bliss.
At least its a plan.
I really need to start sleeping more and taking better care of myself. I became winded running up the stairs last night. It seems I can no longer ignore health. For so long, I was under the belief that I was both young and indestructable. While I may still be young, I'm certainly starting to feel older than I should. Perhaps its time to quit some nasty habits and start some better ones.
Thats no fun at all.
I do try and be patient with them. Really I do.
But I dont go down to Commander Salamander while they're snorting lines of ritalin off one another's facial hardware and demand service. Out of common courtesy, they shouldnt come to my office and shout from the back of a line, "I have things to do, lets hurry it up!"
I have a better idea, freakshow. And its not nearly as ego-bolstering for you as spurring on the guy behind the dispatch counter.
Between the screenshots from Dusty and John, and the time I've spent watching DAoC being played, I cant help but want to jump in feet first. The issue is that I have no platform from which to play. This makes me sad. Perhaps one of these days I will be able to afford an upgrade. In the meantime, I will have to be satisfied with strapping bakings sheets to my chest and chasing my roomates around the house weilding a meat tenderizer.
Monday night, while I was peacefully sleeping, a nasty little virus bribed the sentry at the gate and gained entrance to my lungs. From there he set about beating the shit out of my healthy system like a rampaging Tartar chieftan. When I woke up on Tuesday, his armies had already taken a serious toll. But, ever the trooper, I went to work anyway. While chatting with you all, I sat at my computer sneezing and hacking up nasty black lung peas, trying to convince myself that I didnt have the consumption. As my boss was leaving, he took one look at me, and told the other middle management goon in my unit to make sure he was at work to open the office the next day, and told me to stay home.
So I bought some dayquil, huddled in my room, and began to plan my counter-offensive. When I woke up yesterday, Ghengis Cold still ruled the Steppe of my Chest and Head with and iron fist.
I tried everything.
I took vitamins, medicines, applied balms and ointments, drank herbal tonics, stood in the shower until I was pruned, and even went as far as letting my drunken ancestry poke through by using the Scots-Irish cure all- whiskey. By noon, I was a liquored up little raisin, my head wrapped in a hot towel, sitting in front of the TV watching Sponge Bob Squarepants. If ever there was a time that I wasnt a goon, that was it.
I think it must have been sometime between Karate Kid 2 and Swingers that I stood up and shouted out "Fuck this! I'm going to Taco Bell." I dont think that Ghengis expected this blatant disregard for my health, or he was still laughing at my feeble attempts at curing myself, but either way, the little bastard loosened his death grip on me ever so slightly. The burrito/soft taco combination must have been a surprise as well, because after I had eaten (hmm... perhaps eating breakfast would have been a good idea, shitbag) I felt at least 31.2% better. Maybe 31.3, but lets not get technical. With this little victory under my belt, I decided to celebrate by going to Best Buy and spending the $50 gift certificate I received as a christmas present from the roomate I want to kill.
Quick sidenote- every morning, this momo makes himself some kind of creatine cocktail that he stirs after every sip. Metal spoon + glass container = Nick looking for a blunt object to use as a bludgeon. Mark my words, before the lease is up in May, I will bitch slap this little fruitcake and make him cry. Back to the story.
I looked all through the store, and eventually decided to update my cell phone. My old cell phone was about the size of a brick of cream cheese, and I received endless smirks and nasty comments about it. This didnt really phase me, but as I was moving back and forth between the PC games and the CD's, I kept looking at this one phone, and the temptation was too great. But in my defense, it is a pretty sweet little machine. The buttons all glow with this soothing blue color, and I can even get my mystical I Ching reading. What more can a man ask for, honestly? Well..... I suppose thats another issue entirely.
So, food in belly and phone in hand, I drove back home, feeling better with each minute that passed. I spent the rest of the day playing x-box and watching my roomate play the new final fantasy game, which brings me to my next side note- what the hell is up with the main characters clothes in the final fantasy series? I understand its supposed to be on the futuristic, post-apocalypse techno tip, but come on. The dude has a pair of pants where one leg is cut short exposing what I can only imagine is spandex bike shorts, and the other pant leg seems to be made of ringmail. What kind of Mad Max bullshit is that? I just dont know whats going on now a days.
So that was my day yesterday. I still have a lingering cough, and my nose is a little stuffy, but I seem to have kicked Ghengis in the balls and transformed the nomadic tribes of the Steppe into a loose conglomerate of sedentary communities. Now all I have to do is figure out a way to modify their shamanistic religion so that it jives with my monotheistic society.
Comments like that show that I've been studying Russia for too long.
Like Matt said- who needs content when you have online tests.
 | Theoden If I were a character in The Lord of the Rings, I would be Theoden, Man of Rohan, King of the Mark, and uncle of Eomer and Eowyn. In the movie, I am played by Bernard Hill. Who would you be? |
It snowed for most of the day yesterday (the first snow we've had this winter), but it wasnt enough to keep me in bed. I can only hope that mother nature is rolling all the little snow storms we should have had by now into a series of hellacious blizzards that will hit in February. Maybe around my birthday.... that might be nice.... you hear that, nature girl?
I thought that the Brokensoul team did pretty well last night. Aside from a couple traps and an ill-tempered rodent, we conducted ourselves with poise and confidence. Once I figure out what kind of format I want, I'll crank out another DnDebriefing.
I understand that excite mail has recently gone under new management, but they need to get their shit together. I've been using excite mail for almost 5 years now, but when I try and log on, it tells me that "only current users may check their mail at this time." WTF? It shows me my login name, but apparently I'm not a current user? This makes no sense. If that wasnt my primary address, I would drop excite mail like a bad habit.
Speaking of bad habits....
I find it odd that I feel the need to limit what I write on my own blog. In one light, this is my theraputic playground, and I should have full liscense to post whatever melodramatic tripe I see fit. But on the other hand, that gets really old, really fast.
So I've decided to attempt to limit what I write to only masterful works of humor, insightful banterings on the human soul, or geek-ridden manifestos about the fate of whichever faux world I feel the need to chronicle.
I guess nothing will really change all that much, except less bitching and more haughtiness.
She grew up.
I didnt know how I was going to react when I saw her. I knew that she looked different than she did in high school, but I had only seen her once in two years, and that was only for a few seconds last Christmas. She had grown up, and thats about the best way that I can describe it. The long curly blonde hair I remembered had been cut short and pinned up pixie style. Where freckles used to be, blush and eyeliner resided. The only time I had ever seen her in make-up was formal events, so lunch at Red Robin seemed a little off. Her sweater may have changed color from lime green to heather gray, but it was still fuzzy, and drew the desired effect as it hung around her. And where her necklace had changed from lettered beads on leather to diamonds on silver, the same paperclip earrings hung on either side of her blue eyes. And yet she seemed so much older than the last time I saw her.
But I guess I looked older too. We sat in the afternoon sun and chatted about what we had been up to for the last couple years. She told me about plans for grad school, and how the recent boyfriend had broken her heart. I told her about sniffing for bombs and anthrax, and exaggerated a few dates into a few girlfriends so she wouldnt look at me with concern. I heard about her brother enlisting in the Marines, and she heard about my sister being nearly engaged to a Coasty, and we both laughed at how the military fights to keep hold of us in one way or another. We ordered food, but neither of us really ate. After the conversation began to slow, I paid the bill and we left. She tried to be sneaky and put money into my coat as I walked around the back of the car after closing her door, but I just put it back in her coat as we hugged good-bye in her drive way. Then she told me to wait and went into the house, only to reappear with the sole surviving copy of the first 12 chapters of my book. We sat on her front porch and read through it, and she picked on my spelling mistakes and said that she still loved my visuals. When we were done, she asked if I wanted it back, and I must admit that part of me did. But I gave it to her, and God forgive me, I wouldnt think of taking it back.
We said our good-byes for a second time, and rounding the corner passed her house, I looked back as I had so many times before, and saw her in the kitched window waving at me. For as much as I hate breaking up with someone, and the drama that follows, I do enjoy the storybook simplicity of past love.
I just finished reading Smyth's post, and I must say I wish I could have played that evening. It's a given that we get our asses kicked, but at least we have a good time. During my couple weeks of R&R, I came to the conclusion (as I'm sure many of you have) that we need to be more paranoid and carry superior fire power. Perhaps our dear friend Matt can allow us to fashion together a minigun from the local flora. That could be beneficial, I think. But it sounds like the team managed to keep its wits long enough to take out a number of little nasties, which makes me excited to jump back in on Sunday. Earlier is great for me, just let me know when.
In other news- my vacation to the land of snow and hiking boots was exactly what I needed. I arrived late on the 21st, removed my watch, and didn't put it back on until I got on the plane yesterday. I cant tell you how nice it was to have no concept of time for a couple days. I just sat at home, played games with my family, watched countless movies (I saw Casablanca, too, Munin... I love that movie), ate home cooking, drank beer I didnt have to pay for, smoked Dunhill's and watched the winter sun sink below the mountains silhoutted black against a deep blue sky, listened to the reports from NORAD as they tracked santa on Christmas eve, sang Adeste Fidelis while everyone else sang O Come All Ye Faithful at midnight mass, picked on my baby sister for wanting to be a Coasty Wife, and about a million other little pleasantries that helped to dislodge the stick from my ass and the knots from my neck. Hell, my hands arent even shaking anymore. I should go on vacation once a month! ;)
I promised you all I would comment on my lunch date, and will do that next. But first I will post what I have now and get another cup of coffee. Sorry for the spelling mistakes- goons arent required to spell correctly, only to sound intimidating. I dont so much think I do either well, but dont tell my boss. ;)