'round again

Same thing. I've decided to be "busy" for the next rehearsal. Screw those clowns. I should've asked for alot more money. And head. Head from the tone-deaf throat-warbler's who insist that they too are professional musicians and yet cannot count to 4. If their mouths were otherwise occupied, they couldn't be committing aural (read: AURAL) terrorism in a confined space.

Other than that, I just finished the second season of LOST. Why didn't anyone tell me that show was so good?

The last post again

I'm not going to type it again. The same thing happened. I'm still angry. I'm thinking about calling The Boss and tell him I'm out, because this is getting way to strange. Part of me thinks that would be unprofessional, but I really DIDN'T sign on to do this much homework. Eek.

And, anyway... eh, whatever. Hill and I both agree, this is the last time we're working for this bozo.

Oh, and, yeah Obama!

I should've asked for more money

So I went to rehearsal with these clowns on Sunday. Got there at 1:45PM for a 2:00PM rehearsal. I was under the impression we'd do 1 1/2 hours with one band, take a break, do 1 1/2 hours with the other band, and be out by 5:45, 6:00PM at the latest.

8: fucking: 15! Really? Those scum-bag motherfuckers! If they had told me the rehearsal was going to go for nearly 7 fucking hours, I'd have told them NO! If they had told me I'd have to teach them their own songs, I'd have said NO!

I'm serious. I had to teach this band their own fucking material. Bear in mind that I wrote the charts based upon live recordings of THEM PLAYING THE FUCKING SONGS! The keyboard player starts giving me some made up jive about how the ending of this one song goes:

"Well, the horns are playing four bars, but the rhythm section's got a 6-bar phrase, and it doesn't exactly line up. It's kinda weird, but it works."

So, it didn't work. But he swore it did. We tried it again. It still train-wrecked. So I had him explain it again.

Then I realized, mid-way through his retarded diatribe: "A-ha! The problem is this dumb fuck can't count to 4!"

I took the chart over to him and gave him the Mickey Mouse Club dancing finger over each note so he could understand where the hath gone awry. Three times I did this. Finally, he acquiesced the point (mind you, he didn't admit he was wrong, I think he was embarrassed. I would be too if I couldn't count to fucking 4.)

Oh well. Just had to vent that. I really shouldn't be bottling this up and then blogging during my planning period, but it's been pissing me off for two days. I still have a nagging cough that would've cleared up by now if I hadn't spent 7 goddamn hours at this rehearsal wasting my time.

Oh, and the AD and his cronies are looking for me again. They want to talk more about "school spirit." Fucking putzes.

Hell has frozen over

I'm only doing it for money. To be fair, lots of money.

Captain Busy!

Faster than a rapidly dwindling budget (it's only September!), taller than a rapidly increasing stack of broken shit (it's only September), more powerful than the angst and ennui of 15 year olds (it's only September)... it's... it's...

Captain Busy! After completing a harrowing week of WWE Concerts, Pep Rallys, bad weather cancellations, football games, CONFERENCES, and so, Captain Busy has finally completed yet another daunting task: Picking Christmas Music and Fixing A Tenor Saxophone Case! He's even farmed out some research on drumline uniforms to an understanding and eager band-mom, so that particular project may actually get done within his lifetime.

Why now, all he has to do is finish writing up a bid proposal for his boss, and maybe, just maybe, he'll have a bass drum in his MS Band Room before Christmas! Hooray!

The next time I see my immediate predecessor, I'm going to bitch-slap him. I'm working way to hard at this job for a band this small. But one day, one day mind you, this thing is going to be a well-oiled machine that I can just sit back and watch run.

Side note: I went and saw Burn After Reading with The Brains, The Useless Chick, and The Wild Card. It was B.A.. Go check it out.

This pulled me through today, and it was second-hand...

Seriously...

The fact that McCain has the audacity to call himself a conservative offends me.

Blogging at work

Uh-oh, a semi-serious post.

Well, I've lived up to two of the three promises I made myself this year. I have been keeping a daily log (for documentation purposes), and I've been diplomatic in all of my dealings with students, parents, and administrators. However, my desk does look like a trash bomb went off on it. Oh well. Maybe I'll clean it up eventually.

Getting a few things off my chest:

I took this gig because I wanted the challenge of building something up from nothing, which is where it's at. It's a little tougher than I thought. I know I can be an impatient person, and it's not as if the prospect is overwhelming, but it's been really tough for me to get excited about band this year, knowing that's it's going to be small and missing most of the parts. I think it's tough for the kids to get excited about it, too. I'm doing my best to be positive and hand out fun music, but what's really difficult is trying to find music that will 1.) appeal to their age and ability level, while at the same time 2.) be scored in such a way as a band of 11 will sound good playing it. The kids are supportive and cooperative, but already getting kind of duldrummy about it. I kinda am too. I knew that building a program would take time. Like, YEARS kinda time. And I guess I'm okay. I just have to be positive and think about the future.

Here's the other one, and I can smell this one coming in the wind. The same way you can smell a smelting plant or a rendering plant from the highway before you can see it.

We're starting to have meetings, and the main topic of one of these meetings (I shit you not) is "school spirit." We're actually interrupting planning and curriculum development time to talk about getting excited for the big game. I know this is an argument (discussion, point, whatever you want to call it) that I will never win (make understand, find a way to communicate with, whatever you want to call that too) with any AD, coach, or administrator, but I'm sorry: in the grand scheme of things, that shit is only important to athletes. And not even the good ones. The good ones give a fuck about school spirit, because they're going on to bigger and better things. The one's it's important too are the ones who aren't going anywhere. The ones always on the bench, who aren't paying attention to the game because they know they're never going to play. The same ones who wear a letter jacket after they graduate. The ones who never get over being in high school.

For crying out loud, this is supposed to be a college prep private school. We're really going to have a fucking meeting about school spirit in a place like this? Really? And unfortunately for AD's, coaches, and administrators, alot of them fail to see the value of instrumental music outside of the pep band playing at the games. I've even had one ask me what the band does the rest of the year once basketball season is over. I'd like to think that this place is going to be different. From both my School Head and my Division Head, I get the sense that they are not primarily concerned with how loud the band is at the game. I hope. I hope this, because I'm pretty sure I lost my last two jobs for having this opinion.

Well, I've been talking to myself about it all day. I figured I may as well type it out and let everyone else in on my rantings too.

I couldn't hold it

So I had my first day back to work today, and as you know if you're in the "ed-biz," the first day back is about 8-10 hours worth of meetings that go on and on, and if you're the new guy, generally speaking, you should be kinda quiet and take everything in. Be personable, but not aggressively funny or dominant. And I did that. All day. Through meeting after meeting after meeting.

The last meeting was our CPL meeting, in a little town in the middle of no where 45 minutes away. At this meeting we were promised steak. We were served club sandwiches. This was not necessarily a bad thing, as it enabled us to eat during our respective meetings rather than eat, then meet, thus unnecessarily lengthening an already unnecessary meeting. Worst of all, the meeting was started with a three minute internet video of insipid motivational posters. And they came up one phrase at a time, relentlessly inviting parody. Which, mind you, I was able to contain. Until the last one.

It started with "Aim for the heart..."

And right out loud (at least sorta under my breath), I blurted:

"Because you can't kill a vampire with a shot to the abdomen."

Fortunately, I saw my new boss chuckle. Obviously, his day had been just as long as mine.

Yeow-Wei!

Her back nine makes my driver straight. I want to putt in her rough. Also, she's 6'1" and could probably help me with my short game. And my long game. And just... you know, game.

Things I can't believe

* Congress apologized for slavery. Seriously? I'm sure the politically correct thing to say is "wow, this is great, how evolved and enlightened we've become," or even "gee, 'bout fucking time you heartless dickwads." But honestly, I've got to say "What? Really? We've got a failing economy, a mortgage crisis, and energy crisis, at least one war going on, and this is what you're spending your time on? Really?"

Don't get me wrong, I think we should recognize the evils of slavery. We fought a civil war over it after all (and over other things, as well, , but American History 101 teaches us that it was about freeing slaves, so that's what we believe, right?). Slavery, and by extension, Jim Crow laws, are awful, and a shameful chapter in the history of our country. You know what else is awful and shameful? Fighting a war over oil and calling it a War on Terror. People losing their homes when banks go upside-down. Not being able to afford to drive your car. For everyone celebrating this PC Congressional Achievement, remember: IT IS A B.S. RE-ELECTION TACTIC DESIGNED TO DISTRACT YOU FROM WHAT'S REALLY GOING ON! By celebrating this referendum, you are denigrating your own cause and cheapening any gains that might be made.



This guys fucking rule. I downloaded the album on iTunes. Totally worth it.

Also, I shot a 117 today. Took 10 strokes off of my game from last week. Had my first par!


Fucking Dad shot a 98, and had a birdie. He can never let me have my moment... *grumble grumble*

Only about 20 days 'til school starts. Better get some more rounds in.

Ugh!

We worked out! Ran, lifted, swam. The swimming was nice. The running was hard. The lifting hurt. We old, we broken.

Soon: New hotness.

Keepin' On

Had a meeting with my new LS Principal today. Yet another administrator worried about band. I soothed her nerves. I think she likes me, in the way that administrators like teachers who don't cause them problems. I think things at the elementary school level are going to be okay.

MS and HS I don't know about yet. I've only met my MS principal once, and it was a short "hihowareya." I haven't met the HS guy yet. I should probably do that.

Gindo and I joined a gym yesterday, and we're going for our first visit tonight. Hopefully it will be awesome, and we will both have the bodies of gods.

Who's the Master?

There are only two answers to this question.

This is one.



This is the other.

From a Friend of a Friend: On Augusta , KS

Sent to me by a friend, who's friend grew up in the aforementioned small KS town. I present "Disgusta," "Disgusta Redoux," and "Disgusta Retoix"...

It was a town like no other. Filled with 7,000 friendly people. People who would give you the shirt off their back, the fists off their arms, and the toes off their boots (after burying them in your ass). People who worked hard every day and never farted. People who would shoot first and ask questions later. If they could think of any questions. A place where a boy could finger-fuck his dachshund without interference from the state. A place where everyone was happy, yet no one was gay. A place where the son of a preacher man could grow up to be King of the Gypsies. A place where the son of a high school guidance counselor could set a path for his youngest son that would lead to fame, joy, and job satisfaction. A place where the son of a refinery worker could grown up to be Satan or Hitler or an odd combination of both. And a place where both those sons could join together to torture a poor, neurotic, fat orphan who came to town in the fourth grade. That was my Augusta, m;y friend. And that ain't the half of it.

Augusta. A place where a boy could slam vokka and snort MDA until his liver popped. A place where everyone was treated with dignity and respect, whether your name was Kootch, or Crazy Suzy, or Booger Red, or Hey Nigger. A place where a well-meaning youth club could teach you how dangerous it was to run cross-country by knocking out a few of your teeth (and isn't that a cheap price for such knowledge?). A place where, if you had a van, you could cut a lot of meat. A place where people never confused the Sex Room with the Slave Room. A place where a Fat Jap could break the limbs off your Dad's new tree, and no one would drop an atom bomb on him. A place where any red-blooded American boy, could be proud to catch Old Joe or Brown Nuts from a skanky slut, knowing he could still cop a script for antibiotics from Dr. Frank, who wouldn't tell your mom like your family doctor would. A place where there were enough blind drunks around that a big girl didn't have to resort to homosexuals for dancing partners. And that, is just a little bit more about my Augusta.

Augusta. It was a town where you did not fush wif Moody. A town where you could pick up an enormous, hissing possum and cradle it like a baby while you tried to punch out the back window of a 1963 Impala. A town full of tater suckers who are not jealous or envious of those with teeth. A town where Snag Burris still rides tall on the street sweeper every summer night, still wondering how a woman could get so mad at him that she'd burn the head of his dick with a lit cigarette. A town where cheese is a verb, not a noun. A town where you could set a man's hair on fire and not feel guilty about it. A town where people were proud of you when you clamped a bottle of whiskey under your car hood and ran a plastic tube from the bottle to the glove compartment so you could take shots on the move without having to worry about the pigs, man. A town with its own bouncing big Buddha boy. A town without shame. A town without dingleberries.

Golf (pissed)

That's a pretty reasonable picture of the set of golf clubs I bought three weeks ago. This is how I feel about them now:



And not because I hate golf. No, no. In two weeks, I have snapped the heads off of both the driver and the hybrid. Fucking shit! Guess I figured out why the clubs were on sale. Then I come to find out that RAM has gone out of business. That's why they get the Middle Finger of the Apocalypse.

Bullshit.

Golf

4 hours. 122. Not bad for my second round ever.

Haters

So I got a call from my new boss (one of them, anyway (and yet again, and INTERIM)), telling me that the other teachers just weren't sure about what room I should be in to teach Beginning Band. She went on to tell me that elementary teachers are "very possessive" about their time, and so on and so on and so on...

I could go on. I could send out email after advocacy letter after you-name-it. No one reads them. My best revenge is to make 5th grade band so fucking awesome that finger painting and learning state capitals sucks balls by comparison. And I will. This is for the haters.



Also, my soon-to-be ex-lead-trumpet players calls me on Saturday to tell me he just "doesn't have time to do this one chart, and that if I don't do it, he's just gonna call [the boss] and tell him why it's not getting done." Fucking pussy passive-agressive bullshit. Then, he doesn't show up to load-in last night because the pathetic she-male "hurt his tendonitis in his foot while he was helping his mom weed the garden." Are you fucking kidding me? So, after some begging and pleading from the rest of the band, I knocked out the chart today. Took me 2 1/2 hours, and keep in mind, I stopped in the middle to take a few phone calls, answer an email or two, eat lunch, clean the cat-box, and READ HALF OF A FUCKING BOOK! This guy's only job is teaching trumpet lessons (and being a Jehovah's Witness, and I'm not knocking that, hey, if that's your preferred path to salvation, whatever, I'm not going to shit on anyone's religion BUT HE HAS NO OTHER JOB! Can one be a JW professionally? Does he edit the Watchtower?) and for some reason he doesn't have what should only take him (with his graduate degree and 20+ years of experience) 2 hours TOPS to complete?



This is him. Only, picture a trumpet up his ass.

Lately

Here's what's going on lately:



Why am I the only person who thinks this movie was awesome? As a kid, I always thought this was a better film than Top Gun, and for several reasons:
- No creepy (and pointless) beach volleyball scene, forcing one to confront questions only Stewie Griffin can answer.
- Chappy came home. Goose didn't. Who's would you rather be going into combat with?
- Iron Eagle actually had an antagonist (although they conveniently never say what country said antagonist is from). Top Gun basically had Tom Cruise against Val Kilmer's shark-like snapping teeth (has anyone figured out what that was about?)
- Sound track is way better. Everything you could want in 80's rock.

So, why does no one like this but me?

Next: Only two more weeks of LOTUS remain. I'm really looking forward to weekends off. Just bought myself a set of golf clubs, and played my first round last Friday. WAY more fun than hanging around with drunks in a bar. I've already been approached by other bands, but I'm just not interested. Being home with Gindo or out with her or out with friends is simply more appealing than Brick House.

Next: Got keys for the new job. The guy before me didn't get much end-of-year stuff done, so I've actually got quite a bit to do this summer. Just not quite motivated enough to start working yet. What is it, June 23? Yeah, probably not 'til, oh, say, July 6th. That feels about right.

Drama=Melodrama?

For your consideration: Here, you see Frank Sinatra and some guy name Laurence Harvey circa 1962 in the original version of "The Manchurian Candidate." It was on TCM the other night, so Gindo and I watched it. You know something? It was fucking great! I know there's that knee-jerk, "I had so much fun watching old movies with my girlfriend" cliché, but this movie was legitimately cool. It got nominated for an Academy Award that year (Angela Lansbury for Best Supporting Actress). Why not a bigger award? It was up against movies like "To Kill A Mocking Bird," "Lawrence of Arabia," "The Miracle Worker," & "Whatever Happened to Baby Jane." And before you make any of the Murder She Wrote jokes that I did, yes, Angela Lansbury has apparently always been old, but in this movie she was positively terrifying.

You know who else was good? Fucking Frank Sinatra! Like Ginny said, it's too bad that all these singers who want to be in the movies now can't act. I'm not saying Old Blue Eyes is the best actor in the movie, but he's not too bad. Unlike a few others in movies these days.

Now, here's what was most riveting about the movie. Go watch it, then I want you to go watch No Country For Old Men and There Will Be Blood. What do they have in common? Yes, they're all three dark dramas. Yes, they're all three well-acted, with interesting (if convoluted) plots. But here's what I liked best about them:

No soundtrack.

No radio symphony providing swelling emotional/musical cues. No studio-rock playing edgy guitars during chase scenes. No insipid pop-covers during montages. No, just fucking acting, drama, and suspense. Both of the latter two movies were a couple of the most compelling films I've seen in a while, and it took me a while to figure it out. But finally, it hit me: the director of the film wasn't trying to tell me how to feel about a certain character or situation through musical cues. Instead, I just got to watch the movie and make up my own mind.

Why can't more movies be like that?

Okay, I'LL post the pictures of plants

Mad plant skillz.

Back!

It's been a while since my last post, and the busy-busy has finally slowed down (at least for a little while). I turned in my keys at the old job yesterday and checked out. The only committments I have left are graduation and a faculty appreciation brunch. The day after that, I've got a faculty dinner for the fine arts department with my new job. Nothing like getting right back into it.

Next, I resigned from the band since my last post. I decided that 48 weekends a year for 10 years was more than enough time. I'm going to play up 'til the "big gig" on July 3rd, then pack it in. There's alot more stuff I want to do, and it will be nice to have a weekend off! Which is not to say that I won't miss it, 'cause I will. Thing is, I think I'm going to miss more what it WAS, not what it is.

I promised new pics of my horn:

It's fucking sweet, by the way.

Now, what else is going on? School's out, and it was a great year. Looking forward to next year at the new job. Resigned from the band, and am looking forward to having weekends off. Also, got both of parents married off in the last month. A bit surreal, but a good thing also. No pics here on the computer, but Gindo knows where they are, so I'll put up one or two of those soon.

Got the garden all planted. Now, I shall issue an edict to my paramour: POST PICTURES OF OUR PLANTS. They are truly impressive, thanks to her gardening skill. Now, I shall venture outside (out of the AC that I have turned on before June 1 for the first time in years) and see about some yardwork.

Things to do today

1.) At some point, I need to upload some pics of my new horn! It's freaking sweet. Truly. You'll all (all=both) of you be wicked jealous and shit. Word.

2.) Make the forlorn youth of this school finish cleaning my band room. It's still in disarray from the ISAS music/art festival. And I am too. And we've got State this week.

3.) Answer email from angry MS parents who believe the sun, moon, and stars revolve around Lil' junior Sonofabitch and want to know why I haven't been bending over to kiss his ass the last two weeks...

4.) I need a massage. That ski-trip with the HS band was only a week ago. Feels like a month ago. Ugh.

5.) Answer email from bitchy administrators who can't read calendars.

6.) Dude, I gotta play some fucking Diablo. For real.

Wow!

This is amazing!

I mean, I always knew I should've tried to get famous, but as a guy with no impressive breasts or a morally casual attitude, I've never been backstage at a huge show and seen what stars are privvy. too. Apparently, The Smoking Gun has found out.

My particular favorite was Pavoratti, I think, with the rider of "no distinct smells." Amazing.

What's your favorite?

This would have made me wear my retainer

All those years... all my dreams...

These Tropical-Colored Braces Are Going To Get You So Much Ass

Random Thoughts, News, Etc...

1.) Well, THE JOB had me take two days off in a row so they could do more interviews. The week before a major festival trip. Sheesh. So, I went out to THE NEW JOB today and met the kids, shadowed, and all that kinda good stuff. All in all, a good day.

2.) What is this wild shit?

3.) My new horn came in yesterday! Pics coming soon, but it's bad-ass, in the parlance of our times. Mucho cool.

Till next time...

Deep In The Heeeeeaaaarrt...

... of shit.

So, I'm back from an impromptu two-day odyssey to Lubbock, TX. Apologies to all of you Texas Tech. fans, but I am afraid that Lubbock failed to charm, impress, or excite. Now, part of this is my fault. I take responsibility only for the following, and in fairness, this particular issue was solved with a phone call.

1.) The drive from Wichita to Lubbock is BOOOOORRRRIIINNNNGG. Jesus, but by the turnpike, it's about 11 fucking hours of NOTHING except shitty Okie roads, bad hillbilly drivers in semi-trucks, and FLAT FLAT NOTHING AT ALL. Shit, western Kansas is more exciting, and if you've ever made that drive, you know what I'm talking about. I've always said that western Kansas was flatter than an anorexic uncle-bait JV cheerleader with a self-esteem problem and a meth-habit, but obviously I mis-awarded that particular honor. In retrospect, it seems natural that TX should get that "accolade," I suppose. Big Pun did clue me in that 54 was a much better drive, shorter, and with more scenery and no police. He was right, as he is about so many things of this nature. And what is up with Okie turnpikes needing a couple of bucks every 15 feet? I mean, it's clear that the revenue isn't going into the schools (sorry EJ) or the roads or into a mandatory personal-hygiene education program for the citizenry... so what the fuck are they doing with all my change? Gambling, right? Gotta be.

2.) Screw Lubbock! I have never had so much trouble buying beer anwhere! First of all, Lubbock is one of those quaint towns that doesn't sell package-liquor, so you have to go out into the middle of nowhere if you'd like to enjoy a drink in your own hotel room. This particular fact led Gindo and I on wild-goose chase out into the middle of the middle of nowhere, to a row of liquor stores that looked like converted airplane hangars. The first of which would not sell beer to me for due to my lack of a valid TX ID. The hilljack pole-smoker at the first place took one glance at my ID and apparently decided that his break wasn't over and that the taste of his cousin's wang wasn't quite out of the back of his throat, so he had no time to take my money. He actually told me that it was state law that he couldn't sell to me without a TX ID. Lying fucking prick. We drove down to the next barn and bought beer there. So much for his vaunted law. Is it any surprise that our current president is from this state? I think not.

In Lubbock's defense, I did eat some good BBQ. However, one good meal does not a good visit make. On my scale of places I'd like to live, Lubbock is most certainly X'd off the list.

The Fuck-It's

... I've got a bad case of 'em. The job-thing is sorted out (more or less), it's the day before Spring Break, I've got one more class to teach (unfortunatley, it's my ornery class), and then time for some serious mental and emotional decompression. To my own surprise, I've managed to teach pretty well today. I mean, I haven't exactly brought my A-game today, but it hasn't been my F-game either, so, like the meme about "Things never to say in the recording studio" says:

Hey, that's a pretty good take for what we're getting paid.

Also, I liked:

"I don't think I could make any improvements that wouldn't make it worse."

Problem Solved!

I was offered and accepted a job yesterday. Tomorrow I am signing the contract and rescinding my candidacy for this job. It's a good feeling. A very, very good feeling.

Also, I got my faculty performance evaluation from THE GIG yesterday, and it honestly couldn't have painted me in a better light if I had written it myself. That glowing evaluation of my work performance and the consistent sand-bagging on the part of THE GIG over the last SEVEN MONTHS when it came to offering me a job leads me to one inescapable conclusion: they've never had any intention of offering me a job. It would have been a huge load off my mind had they simply told me that to begin with, but at least now I have secured employment for the 2008-2009 school year. All I've got to do now is find some bitch-work survival job for June, July, and August. I'm afraid I've gained to much weight for pole-work, and we couldn't getting funding for our summer-long archeological dig searching for the Lost City of Gold, so who's got some other ideas as to what I could do with myself for a few months?

Day off! (sort of)

Well, the job told me to piss off for the day so they could audition someone else for said job. While I am loathe to give up the day, I've decided to be constructive. I did all the professional shit I could do yesterday, what with sending out applications for other jobs and so on, now I just have to wait and hear back from them... hopefully. Maybe the job I'm at will offer me a job? How cool would that be? Yikes.

So it's nice enough out that I think I'll go out and tear up the garden.

I was going to complain...

... well, I was going to complain. Here's what about:

1.) They've decided that I need to take another day off this week so they can audition someone else. They think. They think I'll need to take Wednesday off. But they're not sure. So I should just plan to be gone on Wednesday. Unless I'm going to need to be here on Wednesday. They haven't made up their minds yet, but I should just plan to be gone. Unless I need (read: they need) me to be here.

2.) Girls made State Bball. Whoopee! I'm glad for them I really am. I said in January that we would play the semi-final and championship games (provided we made it that far). Of course, my AD doesn't remember that conversation. So, we're playing Thursday, Friday, and Saturday, potentially. And for the Saturday game, we'd be leaving at 10:15AM. Boo-hoo, quit whining, you say? I work until 2:00AM on Friday and Saturday nights.

3.) Just the ever-present waiting of not knowing whether or not I have a job. And waiting on several other schools to tell me the same thing I'm waiting on this one to tell me. Ugh. I hate this, hate this, hate this. Oh well.

But, then I read Ubie's blog (http://www.ubermilf.blogspot.com/) and suddenly I realized I maybe shouldn't complain quite so much. After all, I'm just going through dumbassery and weirdness. She's watching a loved one go with (and apparently, exist in) dumbassery and weirdness. Much love, Ubie. Sorry about Cuntzilla.

This isn't going to turn into one of those "look what I found on YouTube blogs, don't worry..."

I've never really been one to let YouTube videos do my posting for me, but I felt this had to be shared. This is pretty much was a bad night at LOTUS sounds like. Or maybe a good one...

Thanks to Nick for sharing this with me...

Ugh!

Anxious, maybe, is a better descriptor. Fair warning, usually my blog is about subjects significantly less serious than this, but I've got the time this morning to blog and let some of this out (hooray, assembly schedule!), and since most everyone who reads this has heard this in some form or another, it's as easy a place as any to articulate it.

This week THE JOB is supposed to let me know whether or not they're going to keep me around, and my boss, whom I otherwise like, is being so damnably tight-lipped about it. I can't tell if it's some kind of professionalism-on-overdrive thing, or if it's an act (and if so, for who's benefit?), or what, but it's starting to make me feel alot of pressure. I like this job, and I really want it, but I'm just about to the point where I wish they'd tell me "NO" just so I could get on with my life. Time is beginning to draw out like a blade, and it's just kind of wrecking me on the inside.

Gindo and I watched this X-files episode last night called "Drive." These people were accidental subjects in a Navy communications experiment, and this weird radio wave put an incredible amount of pressure in their inner ears until their heads exploded, and the only way that they could beat it was to drive really fast. Neat metaphor for life, I guess, and that's kinda how I feel, too. I need to relax, but alot of the life-decisions I've made for later-on and coming-up are kidna contingent on this thing (not YES or NO, but the timing of these other things is dependent, you know?). And that's how I feel... like the pressure is just gonna keep building and building until my head explodes. I'm as busy as I can possibly be, and like everybody, keeping busy helps keep your mind off of it.

Except my mind's really not off of it. It's always there, kind of lurking. I don't have any anxiety about failure or the future or any of the shit I had when I was younger; I've fallen down enough times now to know that I'll land on my feet, so it's not that. Just a kind of desperate impatience, maybe. I had to chuckle earlier when I saw my principal on the phone in her office. Nice lady, but I wanted to run in there screaming for just a moment.

"DAMMIT! YES OR NO, MAKE UP YOUR FUCKING MIND BUT I CAN'T LIVE LIKE THIS ANYMORE!" I yearned to say. Dad and I were laughing about it (the situation) too.

"Shit, boy, haven't they made up their minds yet? I mean, I can see them maybe not knowing who they want, but 6 months seems like plenty of time to decide whether or not they want you."

Sage words.

I'm doing everything I can to cope with it. The schedule is getting to me, and while I'm doing a pretty good job at staying shiney most of the time, I can feel it starting to pull at the seams a little. Gindo's feeling the effects, and I know where it's coming from. I want to spend time with her and our relationship, and I can do that by letting go of the rock band, which I would like nothing better than to do (10 years is long enough, I've decided) just that, but I really can't until I have an answer from THE JOB, which they've been waiting and waiting on, and it's really starting to piss me off!

I want out! I want some relief! I want some time to myself! I want to not have basketball games and rock band rehearsals/shows, both of which are mind-numbing and pointless activities, every fucking night of the week, so all I want to do is drink and sleep when I have time to myself, which makes me surly and unlivable and depressed! Someone please, either hire me or fire me but just fucking tell me so I know where to put my goddamed energy for the immediate future and I can finally turn one of these two release valves before they, and I, come completely un-fucking-hinged and explode!

*whew*

There. I think I feel a little better.

Inteview(s) tomorrow

So, tomorrow I've got an interview at the job I'm already interim-ing at (finally). The interview is at 4:00pm. I think I've got a pretty good shot at it.
I'm hedging my bets, though. I've got an interview with their main competition (across the street) 3 hours before.
Here's to hoping someone gives me a job...

If only it were this easy:

This irritated me

http://www.dallasnews.com/sharedcontent/dws/dn/opinion/points/stories/DN-hymowitz_27edi.ART0.State.Edition1.378ca5b.html

http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=18482794

*note, the first is the long version, the second is the short...

Now then.

Once in a while, I see something on Fark that I care enough about to actually read. Thus I found myself reading the angry and high-handed rant of one Kay Hymowitz (and you have no idea what it takes not take a few "frat-minded" cracks at the possible permutations of that name!), a woman who is obviously literate, and who also is probably desperately alone and unable to reconcile her lesbian-icity on account of being from Texas. Before I wade in, keep in mind that I'm certain this woman's ire and ennui could be excised if only she'd do what she's accused the male population of doing. More on that later.

I suppose the most stringent objection I take is that it has somehow become wrong to like playing X-box, to like drinking, and to like hanging out. Wait, wait, I hear you say! That's not what she's talking about at all! She's talking about guys remaining in adolescence until they're nearly out of their 20's, or even past, and those things are just symptomatic of that paradigm! Right, sure.

What she's really saying, what the core, underlying message of her article is simple: A man is not a man until he's a husband and a father. She doesn't come out and say it in so many words, but the message is clear. And she cites a great deal of women agreeing with her, ie, men don't want to settle down, get married, and all the hanging out and playing of video games and drinking with buddies is somehow keeping men from achieving what Hymowitz offensively referred to as "milestones of adult life." Point: As near as I can figure, by Hymowitz's definition, Milestones of Adult Life mostly means being in irreconcilable debt for years on end, working in a dreary job that you hate in order to afford the lives of the people living in your house, and not having the freedom to chase something down that might offer you the possibility of transcendence. If THAT'S the adult milestone I'm missing, she can fucking keep it.

You know, it's entirely possible that's the very reason WHY so many SYM's (single young males, for those of you who didn't peruse the article) are spending time into their 20's and 30's playing video games and not getting married, and it sort of the same reason that GenX didn't do it either (I'm speaking from GenY's perspective). Both of our generations (GenX'rs being those who rocked to Nirvana, GenY'rs who rocked to whatever was hip when I graduated high school, and I don't remember because I was listening to TOP and Steely Dan) have more or less seen what our fathers did (for those of us who had live-in fathers) to survive and to help us survive, and while we're greatful, we're in no great hurry to pass the favor on to the next generation by fathering said generation. (I suppose the difference is that GenY is disenfranchised, and GenX is disenfranchised and totally fucking lazy... I'm the GenXer's disagree).

Hymowitz's assertion that manhood does not begin until one is married and a father sort of implies that the most noble or important thing a man can do is become a father, and any man who's not is no man at all. In fact, her massively guilt-speak article comes right out and says that the media (oh no, the MEDIA!) has made it okay for "child-men" to remain in adolesence, well into their 30's and to not take on the role of adulthood or manhood (she uses the terms interchangeably, and at times, sexistly). Well, I can think of two reasons to delay taking on those mantles.

1.) Playing video games, drinking beer, and getting laid are all really fun, and you can't do them with a clear conscience if you have a wife and a kid. At least, not all the time.

2.) And here's the serious reason: There is a contingent of men out there who think just like the young women Hymowitz mentioned in her article. You know, the ones in graduate school who want a career and don't want to get married right away because they think maybe they should get a career together first, that way when they lose their dead-end job down at the mill or the factory or the cock-suckery because of a greedy CEO with a full pad of pink-slips, they might, you know, like, still have a fucking future together. As both of my brothers can now attest (read: my YOUNGER brothers), once you have a kid, your whole life changes. I don't see either of my brothers going back to school any time soon. Not with an infant mouth to feed.

When did it become morally and ethically irresponsible and immature for men to do what they want, but somehow noble and empowering for women to do the same? What if the reverse of the article were printed: Women are too content to sit and talk on the phone and go shopping all day, and aren't really women at all until they're wives and mothers? Can you imagine gasps of horror and cries of outrage? My God, it's almost as bad as George Busch's all-but-tacet health-care policies that would instruct all women to consider themselves "pre-pregnant!" (any coincidence with Busch=TX, Hymowitz=TX? Maybe we could go ahead and never listen to what anyone from TX had to say about anything of social import, EVER AGAIN? Geez, and the rest of the country thinks Kansas is backward (for wit, we are)).

I'll admit, that was paterno-centric thinking in action for alot of years, but now, at a time when we celebrate women for succeeding at the university and the workplace, isn't it a little double-standarded of folks to chide men for not having much of an interest in getting a couple of brats and a mortgage?

And by the way, something tells me that Ms. Hymowitz would lead a happier, more fulfilled life is she moved away from Texas, spent a little less time worrying about this:

http://www.halowars.com/images/mpday002b.jpg

... and a little more time trying to find this:

http://googlegirls.files.wordpress.com/2005/12/dnk-girls-kissing-1713.jpg

Calendar Nightmare

This is about what the calendar in my office looks like now. The problem with being the new guy is that no one tells you shit until right before you're supposed to do it, and then look at you like you're a hare-brained retard when you don't know what the hell they're talking about.

Case in point: "Say, can you have the HS Band at 6 extra basketball games? We go to them every year, but I guess we forgot to tell you. By the way, two of them are the day before League Music Festival. Enjoy!"

Case in point number 2: The MS music festival is scheduled for a SATURDAY, during SPRING BREAK, THE DAY BEFORE F^@&ING EASTER! I don't know calendared that, but I hope they're standing outside the unemployment office right in a dirty undershirt trying to sell a bag of firecrackers so they can afford a bottle of rotgut so they can get a peaceful night's sleep in their favorite back alley.

HELLGA!

Wow!