The Decline of the "Service" Industry

Sue probably thinks I won't blog it, but what the hell. Like I told her last night: Sometimes my mood changes enough to warrant me abandoning a notion that sticks in my craw for whatever reason. These notions are things that I call "Blog Fodder". The downside is that because it's now a different day, I'm not spewing the same anger and frustration that it was during the events that I've noted below.

Suzie came over during late afternoon for a prearranged meeting with our wedding officiants (quite a character and worthy of a blog itself, but that's for another day). Due to the time (and me not making dinner) we decided to go out for some grub.

We decided to stop into Jack's Tavern for a burger and a glass of Hefeweizen. Apparently, the service industry has taken a hit along with many other businesses of late. At Jack's Tavern there appears to be no service. Granted--Their service has never been stellar (it's a bar after all). Last night we both ambled in and sat down, pretty much in the middle of the place. It wasn't busy or packed, and we were plainly visible. Their menu is printed on the wall, and although it's in fairly big letters, it's not all that easy to see for older folks like us (okay, me). It's especially so in a dimly lit bar atmosphere. So, we're there at Jack's for a couple minutes... Staring at the menu, then we get up and walk over to the menu and stand there staring at it for a little while. We went back to our seats and waited. Then we waited. Then we waited some more. I started mumbling remarks about their service and decided that 10 or 15 minutes worth of waiting was apparently my limit. "Let's try the Sports Page instead," I said. We got up and left, still apparently no closer to being served than when we arrived. I guess the only way to get service there now is to pour it and cook it yourself.

The Sports Page is only a few blocks away. We walked in and picked a table near a window, only about 20 feet from the bar. It was cold. I don't know if it was where we were sitting, but it wasn't comfortable. As we sat there freezing, the same feeling came over me: The feeling that it was not to be. We didn't stay there as long as we did at Jack's Tavern, but it was apparent that nobody at that time of day in either of those bars thought our money was worthy of their attention. I decided "piss on 'em" and told Suzie, "Let's go to The Pit."

Again, we got up and left.

The Pit is a fairly recent place in Auburn. When the eatery was first built it was called Henry's or something like that. Anyway, it's right next door to Auburn's newly build train station. I guess it was karma that we had stopped into two "dives" only to be rebuffed, because this place was what we needed. Greeted instantly at the door by a smiling waitress, we were seated at a nice, cozy window spot in a comfortable circular booth thing. Although our first choice of drink was out of stock (apparently everybody loves Hefeweizen), our second choice was just fine. Ditto with the burgers and fries. The Baja burger tasted fantastic, but in my opinion needed much more of all of its condiments (salsa, guacomole, etc). It just needed a bit more "slop" to it.

One thing worth noting: When we walk into Jack's Tavern we don't instantly go for a certain seat or place. It's more of an "I guess this will do" thing. It's a series of tall round tables with bar stools in some areas and long, folding cafeteria tables in the main area. We settle--Simple as that. It's pretty much the same thing at The Sports Page. It's a little bit better quality seating, but again--Nothing feels right. What do I want to feel when I walk into a bar or restaurant? I want the, "Oooo, I wanna sit here!" feeling to hit me. Both of those places have nothing in that regard. Zero. Last week when we were in Jimmie Mac's Roadhouse for the first time I said to Suzie when we first walked in, "I hope they sit us over there" and motioned to a particular spot that looked good. Guess what? The waitress took us right to it! That's what I want--A feeling that you want to spend time in a place.

I guess it was meant to be. Jack's Tavern? Crossed off my list. The Sports Page? Ditto. Although it spanks of something my old man would say, I don't feel like they deserve our business any more.

You would think in these times of monetary uncertainty that businesses would do whatever they could to separate someone from their hard earned money.

I guess not.

Stoners in the News

Have you noticed that every person they bust over anything drug related looks the part? They look like they're the one of the most brain-dead people on the face of the earth.

Do you think they're actually genetically engineered at birth to look stoned? It's possible that kindergarten teachers know before anyone else that they haven't got a chance in life. I can see them now, clicking their tongue and shaking their heads at the poor kids that have "loser" written all over them.

It's possible that only the finest stoned-looking people make the cut. Perhaps only the people that have genuine human loser interest in their mug shots are published. Maybe it's all up to the AP news or the papers to see which ones make the losers' greatest hits.

Maybe they all go to Stoner's Hair Salon?

Here's today's winner--Arrested for putting his girlfriends cat into a homemade box/bong contraption:

"I know for sure this isn't the first time someone has done this," he said. "I'm just the first one to get caught." He said he put the cat in the bong a total of three times and it seemed to calm the cat.

You think?

"Every time we took her out she would pretty much just lay down and proceed to clean herself and act like a stoned person," he said.

Well, thanks for being newsworthy dude... Someone had to do it...

Oh, Come On... Chuckle At Least...

You have to admit--A sense of humor is a good thing. Things don't always go just the way you want to, and a sense of humor can help you "switch gears" for a second or two.

Okay, it's time to collectively say to yourself: "Man, that Rick is messed up..." Why? 'Cause I thought this was funny:


Yeah, everyone like funny stuff, but I really appreciate the unusual things. This cartoon is a good example.

Sorry... But I like to chuckle. Sue me.

How Long Can You Tread Water?

I never thought in my wildest dreams that I would be living in the midst of a depression. Okay, okay--Technically it's not a depression, but rather a recession instead. Still, to be touched by and experience the chain of events that has been slowly unfolding is almost mind-boggling.

From my perspective, it seems like it started with the big Boeing strike several months back. Of course that didn't cause it, but that's when I noticed things starting to slide in our area. That's when jobs started drying up, cars started being repossessed, homes foreclosed on. It's no secret that Boeing workers here represent a huge percentage of our Northwest population. They are highly paid, and in most cases, have no idea how to manage money. When I was at Boeing I witnessed it firsthand: Every time a raise came around, they would buy something with it. Another "toy" that they couldn't afford. Although they were making the biggest money a blue collar worker could hope to make in this country, they were still in dept up to their eyeballs. They had all the best and newest of everything, but yet actually really owned very little of it. I could not believe that the Boeing machinists union voted to go on strike at a time like that. What were they thinking? The whole time they were out of work conditions worsened. When they finally did go back to work the damage was done and the water spiraling down the drain had started to reach quite a velocity.

When the strike started the ripple effect had already been in place and building, starting with the housing market slumping. People were flabbergasted that a house could actually be worth less than they bought it for in our country. The slow spiraling downhill of lending institutions that failed because of the housing market slump just made it worse. Pretty soon it was everywhere you looked. It was like the catastrophe's you hear about in third world countries where a ferry goes down or a bus crashes killing huge numbers of people because they had exceeded it's capacity. It was like a gag contest: "How many people can we fit into our mortgage loan system? Come on, hurry--There's room for more! Keep jumping on board! HURRY!" Well, as we all know, the house of cards fell, albeit in slow motion. It's still falling... With no end in sight.

Things where I work are going very well thanks to two brothers that have their fingers on the pulse of their company. The Brothers LaCroix have never overextended themselves that I know of. Every move they make is deliberate and calculated. They are the epitome of frugal (you should see the crap they have stored). Our workload is very diverse and therefore never really slumped much--Even during the Boeing strike. Now they are playing the bad economic times to their benefit: Buying things and getting upgrades performed at a time when goods and labor are at an all-time low. One of them got a new car a short time ago and the other one is looking. Our whole company is in the final stages of a complete computer system install, designed and performed by a subcontractor guy that is trying to make ends meet and probably gave them the deal of a lifetime on his labor.

I honestly don't know where things are going at this point. I'm glad I have actual cash in a bank (yes, a fair amount of it survived the stock market crashes and slides), but like everyone else, I didn't move things like I should have. There's no way I can do anything with any of my stocks and mutual funds now--I'll just have to forget about them and ride them out. Every morning when I get up and sit down here with my coffee it seems that another company is filing for bankruptcy. This is a strange time. They say that history repeats itself. While that may be true, the combination of events is rarely the same. One thing that we can still depend on though: Friends and/or family.

While we have either or both of those we'll be okay.

A Strange Phenomenon

Maybe nobody reading my blog has ever heard of David Foster Wallace. Don't feel bad--Before last night I never had either.

An American genius of literature, dead at 46.

The phenomenon I speak of is not David Foster Wallace himself. No, the phenomenon I'm referring to is what happens within me when someone like this dies. Why? To be perfectly honest I don't know. I was annoyed with myself that I didn't know him. Not that I hadn't read his works--That I had never even heard of him. I felt like I had cheated him somehow. I felt like I was ridiculously out-of-touch for not knowing who he was.

Last night when I got home I read Google News. There among all the usual chaos that makes up our news, there were all these stories--Stories of a true genius that lived right here in our time. I started reading news articles voraciously, one leading to another, and then another. I found myself searching Wikipedia and learning about him. Who was he really and what did he accomplish? I wanted to know it all. I even found myself before work this morning trying to watch a full-length interview of him when he appeared on Charlie Rose in 1997. I even found myself slightly irritated because I wanted to turn it up louder (I have bad hearing you know) but was respecting the possibility of my neighbor being home and hearing it. I wanted to keep watching it but had to go to work instead. I got home tonight and did a Google search once again, this time finding a link to a page on Harper's magazine where they had put all the writings that he had done for their magazine up for free in pdf form. Now I have to read that stuff too.

Isn't that so often the curse of a genius? They have so many thoughts racing through their brains that they truly are on the brink of madness most of their lives. Some go their whole lives and endure it and some don't. Some find fame in their chosen fields and some do not. I can't grasp what it would be like to be that way--To be able to hold multiple story lines in your mind at any given time. To be able to analyze and approach an idea from 10 different directions at the same time. I guess it's just as well I'm a simple man with simple thoughts.

I don't know who it was that caused me to feel this way the last time it happened to me, but I do know it's happened before. It's just weird...

Clothing and Comfort

Yes, it's time for my annual commentary on nudism. You know it was bound to happen soon didn't you?

I love this time of year. It's the time of year when clothing is optional. Many people don't like summer because it's simply not comfortable. Their clothes stick to them, they have trouble sleeping, they are constantly wiping their foreheads, and they find themselves irritable and short of temper. For me, it's the time of year when the clothes fall off. They have a tendency to disappear when I get home from work. It's the time of year when the neighbors could get an eyeful of me in the kitchen making my lunch every weekday morning (if they were foolish enough to be awake at 3:45am). Yup, it's summer.

Comfort is all in how you dress (or not) and where you place your fans. Yes, fans. I don't like air conditioning. Air conditioning lowers the temperature to a level that requires you keep your clothes on, and allows you to still be able to sleep under the mountain of covers and blankets you're used to sleeping under.

Where's the fun in that?

A fan just creates the necessary breeze to make the current temperature enjoyable without lowering it. The more skin you bare, the better they work. Many times I go to bed lying on top of the covers with the fan on low, doing its quiet, slow sweeping action back and forth. Many of those times I awake the same way, still comfortable, and still lying on top of the covers.

Comfort is not easy for many people. It's really that there are two kinds of comfort: Physical and mental. It's easy to drop your clothes and enjoy the freedom of being bare, but most folks can't do that. It's either that they don't have the freedom to do that in their home, or it's their mental comfort level. Maybe they can't be bare because they are brought up with the notion that bodies are meant to be covered. Even if they want to, they just can't do it--It just doesn't feel right. There's not much anyone can do about that. To them I say: Go buy an air conditioner. I wasn't brought up as a nudie, but neither was I brought up believing that I needed to stay covered. It simply was never really addressed one way or another. It's something that I discovered on my own, and you know what? I like it.

I'm staying bare.

That Travelin' Bone

I don't know what it is about me that does this, but it seems to happen from time to time. I get a taste of something and I let go of my grip on the handrail and jump in with both feet.

This time it seems to be that I have a bit of the Travelin' Bone.

Part of me keeps thinking back to our Harley adventure this last weekend. The smells of the forest, the bright greens of the new spring growth on everything, the boulders, the rivers--You name it. This time of the year is the prettiest time to travel in this state--Especially over mountains or around the mountain highways.

I mentioned this to Suz last weekend: Little by little people that inhabit the greater Seattle/Tacoma area have spread out. I've lived here all my life so I know: What once were rural lands are now connected routes leading from one area of urban sprawl to another. Little by little we have been "removed" from the wilderness that we took for granted growing up here in this beautiful state of Washington, but it's happened in slow motion and many of us haven't noticed. Add to that the effect that media has on us, and we spent all our free time either watching TV or attending "cultural events" or other "happenings" that are wall-to-wall people. Sure, they're both fun, but getting out there past civilization is what we need to keep doing to remind ourselves why we actually ended up living or staying here in Washington State.

Here's another thought: Gas prices have probably been a good thing for the wilderness. There are probably fewer and fewer folks willing to get into their gas-guzzling urban assualt vehicles to explore our beautiful mountain highways. From what I saw this last weekend, it still looks like it did in my memory: Clean and litter-free. I'd like it to stay that way.

You know what though? We still have the ultimate way to explore our state as long as we have motorcycles. The ability to follow a hawk with your eyes as it flies overhead, the ability to smell the pine needles as roll past--Those are great things to experience. Add to that the fact that motorcycles get good gas mileage. One thing they are not (nor will they ever be) are "comfort vehicles" so they require you to stop occasionally (unless you're a masochist), rub your ass, and take in your surroundings. That means you get off, take deep breaths, comment on how beautiful it is there, and reach for your camera.

Yep, got that Travelin' Bone. Let's hit the road!

The Limit?

Yes, it could be true... I may have finally found my limit.

Most of you know I ride to work all the time in cold weather. I don't like to park my bike when it's winter, but like it or not it definitely gets limited use. I ride to work pretty much any day that the internet weather reports says it's going to be decent at 2:30pm when I get off work. If you do the math, getting off work at 2:30pm means you start work at 6am. For those of you that don't know anything about the world at 6am because you've never experienced it, it can get damn cold, and it's always dark.

I don't use a windshield when I ride and that seems to enhance the colorful descriptions people have for me. Basically, it's about the fact that I routinely ride to work when the lighted bank signs that we all pass say 29, 30, or 31 degrees. I tell them, "Hey, if I don't ride to work in the morning when it's colder than shit, how the hell am I going to ride home from work in the afternoon when it's nice out? Besides, if I ride my bike I don't have to scrape the ice off the windshield."

Duh.

Even the "bikers" I work with think I'm nuts. Screw em. I get the last laugh when I grin all the way home from work on those sunny "nuts" days...

So back to today. It was a little different today. Each bank I went past said the same thing: 22 degrees.

Actually, I was going to ride to work yesterday too, but neglected to have it's winter trickle charger plugged in during the previous week. Cold weather can really whack a battery, and it refused to turn quite long enough to fire yesterday morning. After being plugged into it's electronic I.V. overnight though, it spun over this morning like it was rarin' to go.

Even though I only have to go about 7 or 8 miles each way it's still a challenge in cold weather.

When I got to work I had to look in my mirror to get my helmet unclasped because I couldn't feel my fingertips, and even then it took a few tries. I had to wait at least a half hour before my nuts finally decided to come back out of hiding, and I don't think my penis has been that small since I was about 8 years old.

But you know what? It's worth it to see the look of awe (I think that's what it was) in my coworkers' eyes.

The bottom line: I grinned all the way home in sunny weather. That makes it all worthwhile.

Yes, I may have finally reached my low temperature limit, but I'm still not sure. It's going to take some more experimentation I guess. I'll let you know.

Happy New Year

For some reason, I spent a couple minutes staring at the title to this blog entry. The more I thought about it, the more I wondered if it should have an exclamation point after it or not.

Am I excited about it being a new year? Not really. To me, this day is naught more than a free day off. It really doesn't mean anything to me. I've never been one to reflect on what went right and what went wrong during the previous year. Sure, there are always going to be ups and downs--That's the way life is. Some will be minor and quickly forgotten (unless you're a blogger and can read about it), and others will be major, life-altering experiences.

I've never made resolutions that I know of. I think that when someone makes a New Year's resolution they are already halfway to dooming it to failure. Why? Look at it this way: When someone quits smoking, they have a much better chance of quitting when they do it the instant the urge or spark or idea hits them. If they say, "I'm going to quit just as soon as I finish this pack." or "I'm going to quit just as soon as I finish this carton--They're so expensive you know." or even worse, using a target date; "I'm going to quit smoking next week." When people make resolutions on New Year's, they are already dooming them to a high failure rate simply because they aren't making the resolutions for themselves--They are making them for the holiday.

Hmm, what did I accomplish last year... First of all, I didn't set any goals, so did I really "accomplish" anything? How would I know if I had? I live my life by the seat-of-my-pants method and rarely make goals. That's probably why I have accomplished so little in life. I like to think I enjoy life, but do I really? I know with no goals I am free to take any fork in the road of life that looks interesting. Pretty selfish way to live really, but it's who I am.

Will I accomplish anything in the upcoming year? I don't know. There are many things I have been putting on my mental "to-do" list, but I'm such a procrastinator will I do them?

So back to the title of this post. If I put the exclamation point on it, I would be exuberant about the New Year. If I put a period on it I would be doing a "ho hum" about it. Punctuation can mean a world of difference. Instead I decided that I would leave the punctuation empty, and in honor of that I created the appropriate smiley face.

I'll just take the year as it comes like I always do.

Keeping Up With The Joneses

I'm talking about my best friend Steve. He just can't stand it when someone has something better or newer than he does, but unlike most people that you hear about that do that sort of thing, he doesn't do it to brag. Okay, he does like to play "show & tell" when he gets something new, but who doesn't?

No, with him it's more of a feeling of restlessness--A feeling of sudden dissatisfaction with something he currently owns. He's very impulsive and because of that, tends to be fickle and lose interest in things quickly too. I am that way sometimes myself--I just don't have money to play with like he does.

A good example: When he came over and first saw my mannequin dressed in her biker garb, he thought that was just too cool, and he's been searching for one ever since. It will have to happen because he can't really rest until he fills his "shopping list."

Anyway, the whole reason for this post today? He bought a new Harley! His other one is new by my standards--He just bought it in 2005 and there isn't a bug or a speck of dirt on it anywhere. It's not like he doesn't ride it either... He has put a respectable number of miles on it. It's a beautiful bike, no question about it.

So what prompted him to buy a new one? Two of his coworkers/riding buddies each bought new ones. One of them had a Yamaha something or other and recently bought a new Harley with all the options and bells & whistles on it. He's a guy that is so "plugged in" (literally) to his bike that it takes him 5 minutes to hook/unhook every time we stop or start a ride. He has on board cameras, GPS... You name it. Another coworker/fellow rider traded in his bike that's almost like Steve's and also ended up with a model of Electra Glide. It seems more and more folks are dumping the Softail models and going to the 'Glides. I would like one myself, but that's another story.

So the other night Steve popped up in a chat window and told me he was putting his bike up for sale and was going to buy a new 'Glide. He told me the whole story and sent me a link to the sale ad for his bike. He also sent me a link to a picture of the bike he was getting. Pretty nice... Complete with ABS brakes even! At the time he was chatting to with me about it, somebody was already calling him about it. The guy identifies himself as Scott somebody from Eastside Harley-Davidson, and he offers Steve $12,500 for his bike right then and there (Steve had his Harley on Craigslist for $13,995).
"Hey, when I rode it down there last week, you only offered me $12,000. If it's going to keep going up every week I'll hold out for another couple weeks!" Steve says.
"Oh, you were here and I looked at it already? Hang on, let me check something," he says while he puts Steve on hold. He came back on the phone and says, "I'll tell you what--You buy the bike you were looking at right now and I'll give you $13,500 for yours."

Steve said he gave the guy his Visa card number and told him to hang a 'SOLD' sign on that new one. He always has moved fast when it came to buying and selling and "horse-trading."

He paid about $16,500 for it when he bought it, and I know he's well over $20,000 with all the stuff he's bought and had done to it.

But like Rhon said... It's his money!

Being a "Biker"

You know, it's funny... I never considered myself to be a "biker" and I still don't. I love motorcycles and always have. My balls are the same size as most other guys' are I'm sure.

Here in the Seattle area it rains a fair amount, but not like other places in the U.S. When it rains here it's like "slow motion" rain. Sometimes it's just drizzle and sometimes it's just sorta "falling".

First of all, let me preface my blurb by saying that I work from 6am to 2:30pm. That means that I leave home at 5:30-ish (also known as Oh-dark-thirty). When you walk outside at that time of day, you can't really tell what the weather is going to do because it's still dark. Because of that, I use online weather forecasts. I never rely on just one--I usually use at least two and average them out and look for commonalities.

Wednesday of this week I rode to work (I rode before that too, but this is when the weather came into play). The forecasts called for showers throughout the day. BFD. To me, "showers" means that whenever a dark cloud happens to be full enough, it will dump for a bit. That doesn't mean rain all day. When I rode in that morning, I got all sorts of comments from folks. Things like:

"Whoa, you are hardcore, buddy"
"I was gonna ride my bike in today but it was supposed to rain."
"What are you, crazy?"

I don't get it. Okay... I get a little of it: That last comment was mostly geared toward the fact that my rear tire is about shot (more like bald in the middle) and I don't use a windshield. Throughout the day it did rain off and on. But when I left work it was fine just as I knew (hoped) it would be. Had it not--Oh well.

Today it was the same thing though, but for a different reason. The forecast was for a sunny day. Here in western Washington in late October, if it's going to be clear and sunny during the day, it's going to be clear and COLD during the night. Bottom line. So I was going to not ride to work because it was so cold in the morning? No way! How the hell else do you enjoy a beautiful ride home in the crisp fall sun after work if you don't ride to work?

This morning was definitely cold. When I walked outside, it wasn't just "frost" on the car windows--It was ICE. The bank sign I later rode by in town said 30 degrees. No problem--I had on my extra layer and my "head sock" and my chin/neck warmer.

Among today's comments after I rode in:

"Fuuuck, you're hardcore man."
"Eskimo biker."
"You da man."

Okay, I admit... It's cool to get comments like that and I enjoy it. Who wouldn't? But just because I don't like to let Mother Nature tell me when it's okay to ride? Nah. Okay, I may be crazy sometimes--Riding on that rear tire for example. I didn't look at it as dangerous--After all, it has good tread on the sides for cornering. I looked at it like it was just more fishtailing throttle fun I could have on the straightaways!

Some may call me a biker, but I don't see it that way.

I'm just an enthusiast.

Neighbors

Isn't it weird how neighbors can be? They can be your worst enemy, your babysitter, an enigma, almost family, or anything in between. You never know what kind of neighbors you're going to get. People usually don't rent or buy houses based on their neighbors--That is unless they are actual family members. They do, however, sometimes buy or rent based on the lack of neighbors (as in being away from everybody).

Me? I ended up with some pretty damn good neighbors.

Gayle lives next to me. Freshly retired this year, she has worked the recent years of her life in the retail environment--Specifically Home Depot. I don't know much about her, but we talk to each other any time we happen to run into each other in the driveway. What makes her a great neighbor? Two things:

• She's just an all around really nice lady
• She's never home

The fact that I'm on the outside of a triplex means that I don't have anyone on the other side of my North wall. There is another apartment building a few feet away though. Although there were at one time "neighbors from Hell" living there, they have fortunately moved on so I don't hear anything from that direction any more. On the other side of me is my absentee neighbor, Gayle. The reason she is absentee so often is because she is always at one of her kids' houses babysitting her grandchildren. She plays "live-in" when she babysits, so she only comes around every few days or so.

On the other end of my triplex is a young (30 or so) family of three. Chris, Angie, and Kailey. Kailey is 3 years old and quite a handful. Chris is a fellow motorcycle enthusiast and computer nut. Although they've lived here for a while (I believe they moved in right after I did), I never really "met" them until the warmer months when I would be out in the garage with my door open. Kailey loves to come over and pester me, and she is the cutest little blond-haired brown-eyed girl you have ever seen. Chris hangs out quite often when I'm out there, and we've become pretty good friends. What makes Chris a good neighbor?

• He is nice, his wife is nice, and his daughter is such a precocious cutie
• He gives me things

He will occasionally, without warning, leave a little green "bud" sitting in my garage when he departs. The first time it happened I didn't catch it until the next day. When it happened a second time, he was still there.
"Do you know anything about this?" I asked, pointing to the bud sitting on my drill press table.
"I might..." He replied, with a twinkle in his eye.

One other time he was watching me typing something into my garage computer, and said, "I'm going to have to get you a monitor for your garage." He works for a branch of Dell that provides computers to Boeing, so I knew he probably got good deals from time to time, but I didn't think much of it. That is, until this past Friday. I had just gotten home a few minutes earlier when he roared home on his Honda crotch rocket. He came ambling over with a drink in one hand and a bunch of cables in the other. He laid the cables down on a table in my garage.
"I don't know if you can use any of these or not." he said. "I'll go get the rest." and he went back over to his garage. When he returned he was carrying a 19" black Dell digital flat panel monitor! This is not one of the "cheapie" ones they make either. It's digital or analog, has a built-in USB hub, and it telescopes upward and even rotates 90° if you want to.
A couple years ago I replaced the video card in my computer with one that supported a digital input, expecting that I would be upgrading to a digital flat panel monitor in the near future. Although flat panel monitors look great with an analog input, they look even better with digital. Anyway, with the divorce and all, it just got swept under the rug and forgotten. I guess I was lucky my computer was ready though eh?

Neighbors: When they are bad, they can be a total nightmare, but when they are good, they can be really, really good!

Assumptions of Quality

You know, I was wondering what that was yesterday when I was eating my sandwich and I thought I smelled something. I didn't notice an odd taste or anything though. Maybe the mustard was my salvation. Anyway, this morning while making my lunch my nose told me that the honey ham I was making my sandwich out of was not up to standards. I hate that. The package was just opened a few days ago, and is well below pull date.
It kinda makes you think about all the things we take for granted... Things we that assume have been completed, manufactured, cooked, built or whatever--All correctly.

Or were they?

We have no idea what's really inside any package of food we buy or if it was stored correctly do we? We have no lab in our homes to test with, nor are we trained to do it. We have no idea if that wheel on our car was made correctly and will stand up to the hard cornering we're doing we up on a mountain road. We have no idea if the wiring in our house is just one light switch click away from a total meltdown. How many times have any of us ever washed off the top of that coke or beer can before we placed our lips on it? Probably never.

When you think about it, you can go on and on and on.

There's no sense in being paranoid about it though--All those things are out of our control for the most part. All we can do is be vigilant and address things as we see em. We have to trust. Trust in every person that had a hand in making the product that we buy. Let me tell you, there are a lot of people behind the scenes of anything you buy. Take my little package of lunch meat: Farmer, meat plant, curing, testing, handling, added ingredients (attach the same list to each of those), packaging, etc. And that's just the product inside the wrapper. There is a whole different list of people associated with the package itself.

Trust. Assume. Hope...

Surround Yourself With Good Friends!

What is there in life if you don't have friends? You can be the most successful businessman in the world, but if you don't have friends, you're nothing. How can people that are poor be so happy and so carefree--Seemingly oblivious to their financial situation?

Friends!

When I was working at Boeing, I worked directly across a cubicle wall from the sassiest, woman I have ever known. Dolores (or Dee as many of us call her) was a cutie that had a certain fire about her. She didn't take any shit from anybody. For such a short little gal, she could be quite intimidating. Not everyone got along with her, but I saw right through that tough gal act that she put on display. I saw a special lady. We were both laid off from Boeing back on the same day back in December of 2001, and I've kept tabs with her via email ever since. Dee, if you're reading this, I was SO happy to get a Christmas card from you! There's no way I could possibly imagine what kind a grief a person goes through to have kidneys fail, then to be years on a waiting list, hen to finally get one and have it try its damnedest to reject itself from you. When I got a Christmas card from Dee the other day, I was overwhelmed. I could see pain in your handwriting, Dee... It really meant a lot to me to get that card from you.

Then last night I got a call from my dear friend, Mary. I "met" Mary way, way back when we were both members of an Internet chat site. Chatting, although not new, wasn't anywhere near as mainstream as it is now, and we bounced many a topic off each other, eager to get other's inputs on various things. We have been in touch now for something like 5 years. Prior to life changes in both of our lives: Her marriage and my divorce. 5 years ago in "chat years" seems like ages ago in real life. So many things have passed under the bridge since then. Last night was very special though: It was the first time we had ever heard each others' voices! Isn't that wild? It's funny how someone that lives in South Carolina can seem almost like a family member, but yet whose voice had never been heard. Mary, that phone call was so cool... I thank you from the bottom of my heart. Truly special!

And Rhon... What would gushing about my special friends be if I didn't mention you? You and I have laughed and cried over many things. We've leaned on each other, shared trials and tribulations, compared failing marriage horror stories, gloated over our offspring's accomplishments, and consulted each other on so many things. All before we ever even met! It's so strangely cool to "meet" before you meet!

I'm talking about friendships. These are three of the nicest, most caring women I have ever had the pleasure of knowing, and all three of their scenarios are so different: I haven't seen Dee for 5 years, I've never met Mary face to face at all, and Rhonda lives far enough away from me to make meetings special, but close enough for them to be treasured and possible.

And I love you all!

Creeping Toward Isolation

Americans are slowly but surely crawling under rocks and shutting out the rest of the world.

It's true. I don't know if I can aim that just at Americans, but the fact remains: We are doing everything we can to isolate ourselves from any human contact we don't absolutely need.

I don't know about you, but the only time I interact with a human at a gas station is when I get the "See Attendant" message on the pump or when my receipt won't print. I seriously can't think of 5 times when I have actually paid for gas with cash and talked to a human in the last 10 years.

It's the computer age that propelled it all into reality, but it's our constant quest for labor-savings that led us that direction. We as Americans are always looking for an easier way to get something done. Even better would be something that is fully automatic. We love that stuff.

Thanks to our personal computers and the Internet, we no longer have to go shopping at a store and deal with stupid salespeople, parking lot snarls, or bad weather. We can just click the mouse and wait for it to show up in the mail. What? Your online order is taking too long? No problem--Just log on and "track" your order instead of calling someone up and interacting with them. We can now do all our grocery shopping online if we want to. Gone is the chance of meeting that special someone in the produce department at your local grocery store and tossing that clever double-entendre' about a cucumber. We now bank online, renew driver's licenses online, start services online, even pay our bills online.

The computers have also given us the ability to meet people online. No longer do we have to suffer all that social awkwardness and stumbling over what to say in person. We can email, fax, web cam, and instant message someone from the safety of our own personal space.

Don't forget our little metal air-conditioned personal transportation/isolation cubicles. Without a doubt, the worst offender of societal isolation we have at our disposal. Yes, I'm talking about our cars. By owning a car, we have effectively given ourselves the ability to shut out the rest of the world. We close the doors and lock them, roll up the windows, turn on the air conditioning or heater. What, you can hear something outside of your personal isolation cubicle? You forgot to turn up your music for maximum isolation. Back in the day of horse and buggies, people would pass each other at a reasonable pace, fully exposed to everything around them. In the time it took for two people to pass each other, they could actually have a full dialogue between them, and as they neared the limit of their hearing, could still shout a 'good day 'as they continued onward. It's not so bad in the warmer climates where people have windows down--They have a little more possibility of human interaction. When someone cuts us off while driving and necessitates our desire to 'interact' with the offender, we can always roll up our window and hit the gas when we've interacted too much and compromised our safety.

The one that really makes me jealous is telecommuting. That is the final straw between finally cutting yourself off from the rest of the world. Wearing pajamas (if even that) all day and calling it work. Ha.

Sigh. I guess it's time to go interact at the workplace.

Emails and Political Correctness

I used to be one of those guys that forwarded funny emails to everybody.

The key words here are "used to be". I've followed the rise of the Internet since it's humble beginnings, and the "thrill" is gone. The amazement, the wonder--All gone. Now the Internet has become a necessary household tool that most people look at with more focus than they did when it was new technology. I remember when Microsoft didn't even have a browser yet. When Windows versions started shipping with a web browser in it, the public was smacked in the face with the Internet and all its wonder. Even though it was terrible compared to the Netscape version at the time, it was free, and it was included with their operating system.

Then emails became the cool thing. Suddenly emails were "going to replace the post office" in everyone's mind. Add to that the ability to send attachments on your emails, and suddenly you had a whole new method of entertainment. This whole new way to entertain people usually came at the expense of productivity at offices that had networks and computers. Before too long email attachments were so rampant that software was developed to "screen" the attachments for potential harmful ingredients. With the advances in technology and computers, programs to develop these media files got better and better, and there became more of them to choose from. Nerdly creativity, marketing, and human talent and ingenuity had turned sound files, movie files, and picture files into works of art. Works of art, as you well know, have the ability to shock, please, disgust, and every other human emotion you can think of. Email attachments were no exception.

Then people started to complain about email attachments. There were stories in the news and situations in the workplace where people had plainly been offended by an email that they had received from a colleague or coworker. Most of the time, they were just one of many, many names on an email that was sent. People would, without thinking of the consequences, hit the "reply to all" button, or forward it to everyone on a particular mailing list. Why? Because up to that time there really weren't any consequences.

I've worked at Boeing in my past, and that is a prime example of a place where email attachments were rampant. I was just as guilty as the next guy--I forwarded many an email in my day. Even as selective and as thoughtful as I am, I still managed to screw up on occasion, though not seriously. Boeing and most other large companies started creating rules and policies to govern email attachments. They also started monitoring email attachments and screening out certain types of them. Hell, they just about had to just to protect themselves against liabilities and legal problems that might arise, and given the size of their company and workforce that was no small undertaking.

It hit me some time ago as well. I was offended by an email attachment. Seriously offended. I love creative movie files, songs, pictures--All those things. I'm a total nut when it comes to humor files, and I've collected quite a few over the year (yes, I save them). There is one thing that offends me greatly though, and that is when someone sends me some file that depicts someone getting hurt. I had one guy at Boeing one time actually send me a movie file of a girl getting hit by a train! Can you imagine? I was totally disgusted, and went over to his cubicle and told him in so many words that if he ever sends me any shit like that again he would be sorry. God, even thinking about it now creeps me out. It truly was a traumatic thing for me. Over the years there have been many others. Somebody breaking an arm skateboarding, hit by a car while crossing the street, all of it's his horrible and all of it offends me. I do NOT ever want to see any of it again the rest of my life. As a matter of fact, I just got another one this morning. I movie of a guy innocently pumping gas into his car and his hit by a fast rolling large tire that had obviously came off of a vehicle at speed. He was totally smacked and knocked on his ass, and had to have been seriously hurt. Evidently the sender thought it was funny and thought I should be entertained too. After all, he was... Right?

This is why I do not send out blanket emails to anyone any more. I have a long list of people in address book, and there is no way I can guarantee that everyone I send something to is going to like it. I have caught myself time and time again going through the motions of forwarding a hilarious (to me it was anyway...) email. I would take the time to clean up the text and take out all the extra crap that always ends up in emails that are forwarded, and get to the task of selecting the recipients. I start going down the list, and as I go farther down and end up thinking about it more and more, finally would get to the point where I would say, "Ah, fuck it." and delete the email without sending it. Sure, I'd save the attachment file for my own enjoyment of course, but more importantly, I saved myself from worrying about offending someone. Anyone that knows me will know how highly I place personal respect and consideration on my list of values.

It just occurred to me yesterday that I had done this far too often in recent months, and it needed to be addressed. If any of you out there wonder what happened to all the great stuff I used to send you on a regular basis, now you know. I keep it... But I'd rather not send it.

Evidently it's not just me either, because my email attachments are considerably lower than they used to be. Yep, it's a changing world out there, and face it--The novelty of the Internet and email attachments are a thing of the past. They have to be treated with the same respect that you would give any other potentially life-altering decision you might make in your life. It may not alter yours, but it might someone else's...

Fulfillment or not?

When it comes to a person's feeling of personal fulfillment, I think there are three different kinds of scenarios for people, and I've outlined them:

The first type of fulfillment is that of the people that actually get to personally experience success during their lifetime--Either their own success or the success of their offspring. They are able to reap the fruits of their labor and experience the joy first hand, and to bask in the limelight of their successes. They get the immediate gratification that might make some people say to themselves, "My job here is done." The Catch-22 here is that a lot of people that achieve what others would call success never would think their job was done. This type of fulfillment is apparent to both themselves and to those around them.

The second type is the seemingly missing feeling of personal fulfillment. This one belongs to those that never know their place or purpose in life. They don't necessarily grieve or rue their lack of accomplishment, but ponder their life and wonder if they missed their true calling. They might think that if they had made a different choice at some point in their life things might have been drastically different. Opportunity is a key factor in this type of person. Some people have opportunities and others don't, and some people just have more opportunities afforded to them to begin with. In some cases, it's simply a matter of being able to spot the right opportunity that's being presented to them. Not all opportunities come with a sign saying, "This is an opportunity for you... You'd better seriously consider it."

The third type is the definite lack of fulfillment. The person who, either through fault or no fault of his own doing, has his life cut short without continuing the family bloodline. These are the people that never lived long enough to choose any particular path to begin with.

I obviously fall into the second category. I'd be lying if I said I had never wondered where I screwed up--Wondered if things would have been vastly different if I had chosen differently as some point in my life. I can't beat myself up over it though, and the reason is because I simply don't know what choice or choices I would have made differently. If there was a choice that I could have made at some point in my life, I certainly failed to recognize it. Instead I would like to believe that my son and my daughter will both achieve success in their lives and enjoy the gratification that I feel that I missed.

While I may or may not experience a particular success that either of them accomplishes during my lifetime, I can at least rest assured knowing that I have left behind two beautiful people that are better equipped than I was for the rest of the world to enjoy, and I'm okay with that.

Pain or Pleasure?

When is pain not pain?

Everyone knows about pain that hurts--Almost all pain hurts, and sometimes horribly. I am no stranger to that, but in addition to your "standard" pain, I sometimes get pains that feel strangely good.

How is this possible?

How can it be pain if it feels good? Pain should feel good or it wouldn't be pain, right? I spent a long time puzzling over this yesterday at work, and I still have trouble relating it in words. People have trouble with units of measure when it comes to right or wrong, black or white, pain or pleasure, and many other similar opposites. Without one, we would find it impossible to accurately describe or measure the other.

So how is it that I have pains that border on pleasure?

They're always the same kind of pain--A kind of dull throb deep inside--Possibly bone deep. I almost always get them in my feet or legs when I get them, but sometimes hands. I don't know when I first noticed these things, but I do remember getting them when I worked at a desk job at Boeing. If they were at the "right" intensity, the aches felt strangely relaxing. If the intensity was just slightly increased, it gave me "restless leg" where no matter what I did I couldn't get comfortable and couldn't stop shuffling myself around. When that happened, it was very, very irritating. The throbbing ache was very random and had no correlation with heartbeat or anything. I think those events back then usually signaled the onset of another herpes breakout as I recall. Those breakouts usually manifested themselves in quite a variety of ways before they actually happened. The internal dull throb was one of them.

Here's the closest I can get to setting up a scenario that people may have experienced in their past: You hit your hand (not finger) with a hammer, hard enough that it really hurts. Everything stops--You drop you tool of destruction and hold onto your injured hand with a grimace on your face. After a few seconds, the pain subsides, and there is a small window where the pain actually becomes a warm feeling that sort of floods the area. You sigh and pick up the hammer and resume your work, left with a throbbing reminder to be more careful. It's that short-lived area between "warmness" and throbbing that I'm talking about. I've had the same thing happen when I bang my knee real hard or something similar. While cussing with a grimace on your face and rubbing the injured knee, the warm/dull throb transition occurs and feels strangely good for a short time.
The feeling I've just described is what I'm experiencing now, only it lasts and lasts. Remember I talked a few days ago about popping my left ankle going down the stairs? All day yesterday while I was at work (I was standing or leaning all day, running the press) it was happening. There were just a few times where it throbbed slightly past the "pleasure point" and made me jump or shuffle my weight, but for the most part it was nonstop all day. Even now as I write, it's sending its happy little throbbing feeling to the receptors in my unusual brain.

Hey, maybe my receptor is off and needs to be calibrated! Well to tell you the truth, I don't want it to be calibrated. It affords me enough of an input to tell me to favor my ankle, but yet it gives me a sort of reward for putting up with it.

Is that twisted or what?

To Post or Not to Post...

It can be a quandary.

On one hand, I can just ramble on about every little thing. On the other hand, I can wait until I have a newsworthy event or amazing deep epiphany of some kind. I'm reminded of the old Cheech and Chong episode: "The first day of my summer vacation: I woke up. I got dressed. Then I went downtown... To look for a job. Then I hung out in front of the drugstore. The second day of my summer vacation: etc. etc. etc."

I could have a little blurb here about another of the many things that piss me off, like the brand new loaf of bread I opened up this morning that is short--So short my lunch meat had to be folded to fit. You know, you can check out bread after bread, and you still get something wrong. Either a short (heightwise) loaf, a loaf with a big hole through the bread in the middle somewhere where you can't see it until you get into it, or one with a teeny hole in the bag you didn't notice that causes your bread to lose freshness. See? I could go on and on about bitchy shit, but what's the point of that? Pick a subject and I'll bet I can find a rant about it.

Or how about the delightful meal I prepared for dinner last night? Mundane topic for sure, but more "positive." I could go on about the little fillets of Tilapia that I lovingly breaded and pan fried to a perfect golden crust, to be accompanied by a side of green beans and potatoes. Oh, and don't forget that huge Caesar salad... Yeah, it was the kind from the "kit" but I added (again, lovingly) freshly diced tomatoes. (Vine-ripened if it matters.)

Or I could completely jump track and mention the neighbor across the back fence that somehow doesn't believe in curtains, but instead has three strategically-placed pieces of styrofoam stood up against the window. They don't cover much. Although she's a big woman, I have to admit I look from time to time. Hey, it's all good. Besides, it's kind of hard not to when you're up on a tall second floor and looking down. Maybe she likes being watched? Who knows. I just know I have my own version of "The Ugly Naked Guy" that they always used to talk about on Friends, and I think it's kinda cool.

Anyway... See what I mean? There's just never anything to write about... ;-)

Big Brother is Watching You

I understand that it's inevitable that more and more things are going to put people under the watchful eye of our "leaders" and government officials--It's pretty much inevitable just based on population and the need for regulation. But what's got me pissed off is the latest thing:

Traffic cameras.

Don't get me wrong--I am all for regulating and putting a stop to people running red lights. Here in my little town of Auburn, it's pretty rampant. It seems like this town has turned into a "transition" town, which means that everyone that drives here seems to be on the way to somewhere else. In this town, it is very common to see sometimes 2 or 3 cars speed through a red light.

The problem I have with traffic cameras is mainly the fact that I was taught (as many people were) that when you're making a left turn (unless you're on a red arrow signal) you pull out into the intersection and patiently wait your turn to go. That way, when traffic is thick and you may not get an opportunity to complete your turn during the green cycle, you will still get to make your turn when the opposing traffic stops for their yellow or red light. This insures that one car will always make it through the left turn cycle. Everyone I talk to was taught to do that, and it has nothing to do with "running" lights.

Traffic cameras don't see it that way. If your vehicle moves during a red light cycle, for whatever reason, you get a ticket.

I don't have a problem with people getting tickets that deserve them. People that stomp the gas pedal to the floor when a light turns yellow, or people that coast through right turns--Those are justifiable. I just don't like the "automatic" aspect of it: Flash, mail, and pay up.

The other problem I have with the traffic cameras is the slow but sure removal of the human element. Are humans reviewing all of these pictures? Are they reviewing any of them? We all know how good scanning software is these days... There are programs that can scan virtually anything automatically. I doubt if any humans ever look at these camera footages unless a challenge is issued.

What can we do about it? I'm not sure. Because I'm a proactive person instead of a reactive one, I'm trying to eliminate the problem before it becomes a problem. I'm considering buying a product called Photoblocker. It's a spray on stuff like clear spray paint. Here's a recent article on it from the Washington Post:

http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/articles/A222-2004Jul20.html

Part of me considers the product a scam though... I'm naturally leery of any product that costs $30 or so that is clear to the naked eye. I mean really... Is it real or is it just clear spray paint? We will never know.

It can't hurt...