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[11 Nov 2007|07:33pm] |
Today is my father's 60th birthday. We're celebrating it here in Boston at my sister's new apartment. Up until this point my trip out here to visit my family has been wonderful. My mother and father are talking again, and they haven't been fighting more than the usual banter. My sister is doing wonderfully, and is very excited to be in her new home. My grandmother is looking healthy and strong, and my cousin is having a great time dating and meeting new people after his divorce.
All in all, things are looking up over on the east coast, and it crept into me somewhat for the past couple of days.
I guess I've been doing better too. I found out that I actually lost about 30 pounds (I'm 151 lbs now, right where I should be for my height, while the last time I weighed myself I was around 185). I got a good rest the night I flew in, and I've had plenty of energy. My humor's improved, I suppose you could say I've traded in the Melancholy for the Sanguine.
I haven't had a cigarette since the night before I left, and while I've had a couple of cravings since last night, so far it's nothing that's going to make me break down and buy a pack. I had the opportunity to take a few drags off a member of my sister's band (The Sprained Ankles: http://profile.myspace.com/index.cfm?fuseaction=user.viewprofile&friendid=167644076) after their performance last night at the whatchamacallit yacht club, a bar out here, and I was fine as I was.
Last night my sister and I had a talk about the situation with my father and mother. At some point we moved on to discussing me, and one thing I don't like to discuss with my sister is myself. She has a talent for homing in on the one subject (in this case, my getting a new job) that is guaranteed to piss me off, and harping on it until I'm ready to start ripping up my immediate surroundings. I try, very, very hard, to explain to her, that as it stands I expend more psychological energy than is decent for an upstanding gentleman on simply getting up in the morning and brushing my teeth, let alone worrying about where the fuck I'm going to find a new job right this second, as I'm trying to spend a few days away from my worldly worries and maybe, just maybe, figure out what the hell it is I really want out of life. Nope, thanks for playing, game over. We get to have a pow-wow, a full power-point presentation on how much of a fucking failure my life is, and how I'm wholely responsible for my plight, etc., etc..
That's not really what she's trying to say, but she has this habbit of framing her statements and questions in a rather accusitory manner when I try to tell her "I don't want to talk about it."
At this point, I would love desperately to explain to her and everyone else I know, love, care for, speak to on a semi-regular basis, or have a passing acquaintance with on the street, that I go over these things in my own head, and it makes me furious to be treated as though my problems and faults are an open book, to be discussed at their leisure. At this point in my life, I've had my failings thrown in my face like a handful of mud quite enough, and I've revoked that power from her and everyone else. I've listened to other people's cancerous ideas concerning me and my best interests, and I've come to the realization that none of them know from shit.
Sorry, gents. The Salad Bar's closed. If you need anything, ask the fucking waiter.
Time for dinner. I feel a great deal better now.
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[14 Oct 2006|10:49pm] |
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mood |
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predatory |
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music |
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A Perfect Circle - Passive |
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Christ, how long has it been? Not exactly sure why I'm writing in this thing, I guess I have some time to myself and I feel like being self indulgent in some form or another.
I started my new job recently, a retail stint over at a Sears. I'm selling electronics to people with more money than brains, and like your typical sleezy salesman, its my job to rope more money out of em by selling them "Protection Agreements"... I sound like a fucking extortionist. Unlike a kneebreaker, though, these "Agreements" are actually fairly good, Sears just banks on the fact that people are too lazy to make use of the offered preventative maintanence housecalls that are one of the main selling points of the contracts.
I had a relatively good day today, despite how little sleep I got. I was up at around 5am, my nerves generally making it impossible for me to fall right asleep, when the power went out. It stayed out till around 7am, and the entire time I had to stay up because I couldn't fall asleep without the alarm clock set to wake me up because I had to be at work at 1, and knowing how my sleep pattern is, I'd have slept till 2 at the earliest if I didn't have the alarm.
The power did finally come on, so I was able to get some sleep before work.
I worked on some training for the first couple of hours, then my manager moved me out onto the floor to do some register work. I feel most comfortable here because it's what I know from my last job, so that went well.
Around 6pm I went for some dinner, had a slice of pizza and a soda. While I was sitting there eating, an old man who later introduced himself as Louis came over and asked me if there was a place where he could get a pair of glasses. We struck up a conversation, mostly him asking me questions about myself. It was a little weird, to be honest, he was about 85 and kept talking about God, the hereafter, and sin. He had a hardon for sin, apparently, and kept mentioning how he wanted to go to heaven, but he felt as though he were a sinner. We talked about religion for a good while, and I got the sense that this poor old guy was hitting on me the entire time, just from the way he kept harping on sinful urges, kept asking me if I had a girlfriend, asked me once if I was straight or homosexual. At first I thought he was going to try and convert me to christianity, but he didn't seem bothered by the fact that I'm an Athiest.
This whole old-guy hitting on me thing is starting to spook me a little. I've delt with it before, but never in my life as much as I have to out here. You'd think liberal old NY would be rife with dirty old gay men, but I swear I've had to deal with more come ons from my own sex out here in America's heartland than I care to relate.
So Lou walked back with me to my department, although he wandered off after I had to clock back in. I reported over to my section and for the last three hours or so of my day I was on the floor learning the ins and outs of the sales procedure. I'm still not familiar with a lot of the stock we have there, so there's not much I can do to help the customers just yet. I helped a woman a bit looking at some digital cameras, but she didn't buy anything. Mostly I just kept people in the department long enough for one of the other two sales associates on duty to get over and help them out. But I'm picking this stuff up as I go, I learned a bit tonight that'll help me tomorrow.
Right now, I don't feel too comfortable with the job. There's a ton of procedure I'm still working on learning, but I like the people at least, and I think once I learn more about the products themselves I'll be in good shape. My people skills aren't the issue here, it's catching up with the electronics industry I haven't been keeping tabs on since the late 90's.
In other news, Kingsley emailed me earlier, he proposed to his girlfriend, and she accepted, so it looks like I have another wedding to go to soon :) That makes two of my friends, and my sister, all within a short span of time.
On the one hand, this is depressing as fuck, and I'm going to quite writing here because I'm starting to sound like an ass in my own head. Every friendship, I squander. Put it that way.
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[27 Jun 2005|11:20pm] |
Finally got around to taking this quiz: I took a different one a while ago, and it gave me a 2 day survival rate because although I'm in good health and physical shape, capable of defending myself, and psychologically prepared to face a horde of the walking dead without going bonkers, my organizational skills suck. This questionair actually asked me if I could use a gun though, as opposed to whether or not I need to ask my manager where she wants me to put the canned tuna at work.
Official Survivor
Congratulations! You scored 77%!
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Whether through ferocity or quickness, you made it out. You made the
right choice most of the time, but you probably screwed up somewhere.
Nobody's perfect, at least you're alive. |
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My test tracked 1 variable How you compared to other people your age and gender: | You scored higher than 45% on survivalpoints |
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[27 Jun 2005|07:38pm] |
You were like a brother to me once, in so far as that can be said within the context we share. I treated you like blood because I fell for the mask, the one that smiles and panders and praises and plunders. Like the devil you swayed me, and like the devil you set me up for the fall. I trusted you with what I hold most dear, and you showed me the putrid face beneath the mask in your moment of greed. For what you almost cost me, you never did care one way or the other, all the more my mistake for trying to forgive you. You're not worth forgiveness.
I'll let this be the sum of it then: Were I close enough, I'd tear the worthless life out of you.
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[07 May 2005|09:43am] |
So I finally got around to doing this quiz from Kim's journal. Fucking great, I'm Kramer.
You May Be a Bit Schizotypal ... |
A bit odd and socially isolated.
You couldn't care less of what others think.
And some of your beliefs are a little weird.
Like that time you thought you were Jesus. |
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[20 Apr 2005|10:15am] |
Here's the first two parts of a poem i've been working on recently. There'll probably be changes, I've always worked like a potter, always adding more and then taking away, rewetting the clay and working over old terratory over and over to find the form I'm trying to express.
Right now, it's under the working title "The Meliad Lock." That'll probably change too.
As a side note, listen to "Sober" by Tool while you read this. Kim's been working on a wonderful remix of it while I've been writing this, so the cadence evolved at some point to match pacing of the lyrics in that song.
When she releases that mix on her livejournal, you'll probably see the other ways it inspired me :)
___________________________________
Captive in my mortal cage
I stand before the age worn hollow,
Listless in the song of night
Lost in vistas great and fallow.
I strain heart-worn and wait for you
Held in captive reverence;
Delivered here by fate’s design,
But more: the fleeting will’s desire.
Were in your shadow on this eve
A knight beheld in forest grove,
Here standing inside fairy’s ring
Moved by love to timeless cove,
Endowed with Michael’s saintly lance,
With nobility and pilgrim’s faith—
And not this humble knave who dwells
Forlorn in your lonely briar,
Would then your milky hand stretch forth
From ashwood trunk and gnarled limb
To exalt these banal, earthly words
And sanctify my love-born hymn?
But rather silent rises higher
To the ebony expanse above
Lit for man by God’s first children
Manifest in cold and distant fire.
From my living heart’s respire
This incant song is sudden born:
‘Beneath this darkend forest soil
Withered limbs arise; be torn
From interment in this tomb
Of bark and hoary mountain ash;
Thou, sleeping ghost for whom I long
In waking flesh come forth attired.’
A stirring in those ancient branches
Draws my dim and hopful eye
And elevates my baritone
To tenor’s sudden, awe-born sigh.
I beckon you to move once more
For lack of song-bird’s nightly step
Unbridled by nor’easter’s rising
From Hades’ wilted, spiteful lier.
But no further vital aspect
Does your countenence reveal
Than those twisted veins of wood,
And of vine and floral weal.
The life within remains unmoved
My finite mortal breath consumed,
And still your beauty lost to me
In coils of primal, verdant spire.
At last the evening gives reply,
Echoing the coming spectre
In the gale tossed canopy,
Terrible in haunting vector
With voice from mountain, heath and plain
Laconic in it’s morbid timbre.
The master of this great house rouses,
Advent chilling me with dread.
First the airy child of mind—
Faint, but creeping closer still—
The melody of wind strewn reed
Comes rising up from ancient hill.
Of longing and of nature’s passion
Do myriad notes devise my fears
Cloaking them in pallid issue
Vexing thus my maddened head.
Suddenly my panic ceases,
Dying now with music’s last;
Leaving silence unfamiliar
Lingering alone and vast.
Above, a phantom voice distilled
From every spiteful, mortal failing,
Inspires me to memory
Of sinful urgings I once shed.
‘Who is the boy I see before me
Kneeling here in heathen verse,
Far from beaten road and hearth,
Before the sleeping thicket of my bride?
What canticum does he intone
To wake a longing lost in slumber,
And flee this place with goddess risen
Without fear of master’s ire?
Find a voice, I bid him swiftly,
Lest I tire of silent stare.’
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| "I'm your huckleberry..." |
[07 Apr 2004|12:23pm] |
I forgot to add this in my last post. I was watching Tombstone two nights ago when Kim had to go to the hospital to see her father. I couldn't sleep, and I wanted to wait up for her anyway, so I sat down and went looking for a movie to watch. First, I tried Shrek 2, turned out it was mislabled, and was actually The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
The only other thing we had to watch that I hadn't seen yet was Tombstone, so I loaded that up and watched it through.
Now, I'd seen Tombstone before when I was younger, and the only actors I really remembered from the movie were Kurt Russel and Val Kilmer. I didn't think much of seeing Michael Biehn (Corporal Hicks in Aliens), or even Powers Boothe (the FBI agent from Frailty), both of whom played Cowboy outlaws in Tombstone, except that I liked the actors, so it made the movie more enjoyable. Of course I expected to see Kurt Russel, but when I saw Bill Paxton (Hudson from Aliens, the Father in Frailty) doing his usual Bill Paxton, I started thinking... "Christ, who DON'T they have in this movie? I bet next I'll see Billy Zane"
Sure enough, not half an hour into the movie and Billy Zane shows up in a stage coach. I almost had to slap my forehead at that one. At that point the movie took on a comical edge that didn't quite ease off until Val Kilmer really got into his Doc Holliday, which I think is probably the pinical of his acting career (yes, even beyond Jim Morison). It sort of reaffirmed itself when Jason Priestley showed up... and toward the end when the Marshals stop at Charlton Heston's ranch, well, that was the point where my mind sort of entered into another, parallel existence.
Oh, did I mention Billy Bob Thornton was in the movie also?
And honestly, beyond Kilmer and maybe Biehn, there wasn't much acting going on in the flick. The highlight, of course, would have to be the verbal battle between Rico and Holliday, spoken out in latin proverbs. A couple of cowboys yammering away in latin. If it weren't for Kilmer, the scene would have been too much to bare ;)
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| You have to wonder |
[05 Apr 2004|02:53pm] |
Checking the AOL article again a few hours later, the text had been changed:
"''We're still being challenged in Iraq and the reason why is a free Iraq will be a major defeat in the cause of terror.''"
Now, with any other president, even Reagan for chrissake, I would assume that this was a typo on the part of the journalist. Fact of the matter is, though, that Bush has a track record of making verbal FUBARs that are quietly covered up by the media... even to the extent of editing news articles to say what the president intended to say, not what he actually said.
Which of course, is hack journalism at it's worst: when you're reporting the facts of an event, you report how it happened, not how it was scripted to happen.
Anyway, it's my assumption, until I can verify it otherwise, that the original statement was what he actually said.
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| Bushisms abound |
[05 Apr 2004|01:17pm] |
This was in the second paragraph of an AOL news article I read this afternoon.
"''Terrorists can't stand freedom,'' said Bush, declaring that he will ''stay the course'' and bring democracy to Iraq. ''We're still being challenged in Iraq and the reason why is a free Iraq will be a major defeat in the cause of freedom.''" (emphasis mine)
Do people actually listen to what this guy is saying?
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| New Feature: I Love Lucid |
[10 Mar 2004|07:46pm] |
I've been keeping a dream log lately to facilitate lucid dreaming, and I figure what the hell: I need to do something with this live journal, why not. So I'll be using the SniperJoe persona here to track my progress and maybe get a few laughs in the process.
Most of the time, I'll probably keep these as friends only. I don't care much to let strangers see anything going on in my subconscious.
( Read more... )
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| New Feature: The Lie of the Day |
[10 Mar 2004|07:06pm] |
I've decided that in order to better myself as a person, and, to use Ken's succinct expression, an amoral realist, I'm going to try my best to speak at least one falsehood each day, in order to reaffirm my commitment to skullduggery.
anyway, without further adue, the lie of the day.
"I resemble Lawrence Fishburn  ."
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| The Obituaries |
[10 Mar 2004|02:42pm] |
Well, it's old news by now, but he deserves it: a moment of silence, please, for Spaulding Gray, who seems to have committed suicide at the age of 62.
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I hope he can forget now.
* * * * *
Another belated moment of silence, this time for Carl Anderson, who played Judas in Jesus Christ Superstar; he died of leukemia on February the 23rd. He would have been 60 this year, if he'd lived four days longer.
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For Mr. Anderson, I can only hope that somewhere up above, he's being lowered on a crane onto a stage full of scantilly clad female-angels.
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| I should really cut this, but I'm lazy |
[21 Feb 2004|10:31am] |
Mike Hubert stopped by for a visit on his way to Missouri, and he ended up staying for an extra day, which was great because I probably won't get to see him for a while, unless he stops by on his way back (not sure when that'll be). Jeremiah was excited to meet someone new, and he and Mike got along really well: I'm always so afraid Jeremiah will be upset by stuff like this, and he always takes it in stride (about the only thing he doesn't like is having younger kids around).
We had a bit of an adventure trying to give Hubert directions to the apartment: he called from the road after exiting from the highway, and we all thought that he was in different places... he ended up heading the wrong way on airport road, and it took him twice as long as it would have if he'd just stuck to his driving directions from map-quest, but eventually he followed those directions into mid-town Rock Island, and it was a pretty direct rout to here (just VERY round-about).
The next day, he and I went into Davenport to check out this army-navy surpluss store. The directions told us to take a "slight right" onto North Gains street, but when we hit the other end of the bridge, we were presented with not one, but two "slight rights"... so we elected to take the first one... a mistake, because it ended up putting us on a direct rout to another bridge (the arsenal bridge, I believe)... i.e. back over the river. So I diverted quickly into the heart of downtown Davenport... I know my way around well enough to get to and from the city, but it's like a maze of 1-way streets and backstreets that cut off suddenly and resume elsewhere... so finding this place was gonna be a chore no matter how you looked at it. We decided to keep heading away from the river until we hit 12th street, when we did, we turned onto it; we had to head down a long ways because we were looking for 2999 (i think), and we turned onto the street at the 200's.
Well, we got down a ways, ducking between 12th street and 13th street when 12th became little more than a slightly paved driveway, and it wasn't until we were down by the museum that we realized we were on WEST 12th street, and we were looking for EAST 12th. So, it was back down to the river, till we got to East River Drive and followed that to Mound Street (which was our original rout, but we nixed that because we took the wrong "slight right"). From there, we found the place in about five minutes.
Of course, you already knew this was coming: it was closed. On a Thursday. At midday. No "Out to Lunch" sign. No hours posted. Hell, some other guy drove into the parking lot while we were there like he was looking for the hours, too.
So Mike and I found a place to sit down and eat, a nice German bar n' grill called Beir Stube. Great food: I'm gonna have to take Kim there sometime. From there we headed back into Illinois and went to Wal-Mart so Mike could get his pelican case (he needs it to transport his handguns through certain states), and of course, Wal-Mart only sells them during hunting season. So he gets some plastic tool-boxes instead and a couple of locks. Then we headed back to the apartment and I drove out to pick up Jeremiah.
When I got back, Kim was already home, and we all chatted for a bit. Kim decided to put that lovely stripe in her hair, but she had accidentally picked up color enhancer, not the actual dye she needed, so I hopped back out to the drug store and picked up some dye for her. When I got back, her stripe was already looking quite red, since she had already died it once, but it didn't show up very well until she put in the bleach. She went ahead and put the dye in (she actually needed black to redye her roots, she already had the red she was going to use with her stripe).
We decided to order Vietnamese for dinner, and I ran out to pick up the order at the place out in Rock Island. I got there find, but I had some trouble finding the restaurant itself (it's on the corner of 16th and 5th avenue, but it was already dark, and my glasses had gone missing, so I couldn't read the street sign for 5th ave, so I went past it once and circled back around.) I got the food and hopped back home, and christ was it delicious! Kim and I'll have to order from there again (a bit spicey, but the rice was wonderful. Hubert sure knows how to order Asian cuisine).
The next day was a bit more slow-paced. I had to get Jeremiah to school in the morning, and after that Hubert and I were gonna go to the Omelet Shoppe and grab some food before he left. Even though Mike had gotten a good nights rest, he was wiped out that morning, so when I got back he rested for about half an hour and I sat down and watched the rest of Lord of the Rings, which I'd started watching the night before.
When I asked Mike if he wanted to go get some food about a half an hour later, he said he wanted to rest 15 more minutes, so I went back to the movie. By about 1:00 we decided that it'd be better to just hang out at the house. We cooked up the last of the Ramen (Kim will be happy it's gone) and we finished watching Lord of the Rings, discussing the likelyhood that Frodo and Samwise were banging each-other ass-wise during the cut-scenes (Hubert has a good point: the trials of war really don't make men cuddle and nuzzle, unless your in the British Military). When that was done, we watched Interview with the Vampire. Well, he actually watched the movie. I was picking up the place and doing dishes (cause goddamn, in that one day the house had fallen apart and we'd used almost every dish we had). Mike decided to stay an extra day, which was welcome, cause I was having a good time. About 3:00 I was doing the lasting of the dishes, I picked up a few last bits of debris from the floor and started getting ready to leave. About when I was getting my shoes on, Hubert commented that he thought Lestat was the good guy in the story, but in Interview he seemed like a prick. So I went into explaining it. It was about then that Kim came in the door and asked if I was going to pick Jeremiah up (it was about 3:10, he gets out at 3:40). She thought I'd been sleeping since my car was still there. I got my shoes on and headed out to the car... headed back because I couldn't find my keys in my jacket pockets, couldn't find my keys in the living room, found my keys in my breast pocket, went back to the car and headed out to Sherard to pick up the little guy. I ended up getting there ten minutes early, of all things, and had to wait for him to be let out. My gas-light also decided now was a great time to start annoying me with it's constant bitching and moaning...
"Hark! Thou art rather low on petrol, ye cheap bastard! Belay my thirst with that heavenly elixir, God's own Ultra-pluss, and tarry not you penniless twit, lest I breath my last before mine treads can see thee to the pump!"
That fucking car, always copping an attitude, and it has to use that whiney brittish accent... ;)
So I get back home, Kim's fixing up Mike's computer, which had some trouble installing a patch for Battlefield 1942. She finds a couple of worms on his machine and kicks their sorry asses right out of the laptop for him. He goes about trying to redownload and reinstall the patch, we talk for a little bit more, eventually Kim goes to make Rice Crispy treats (with chocolate chips, christ are they delicious!). Hubert was itching for some spagetti with cheddar sauce, but we didn't have any sauce for it, so we just tossed in the chilli Kim's mom provided for us, which turned out to be fantastic.
A little bit after Kim got to sleep, Mike tried reinstalling the patch... no luck, the same problem persisted. For some reason, now the game crashes out just before a mission starts: I wish we had more time, Kim would be able to fix it if she had had more time to deal with it.
Anyway, that's been the last couple of days. Mike left this morning, and I wish we'd had more time to do more than just sit around, but it seems Like I barely had time to park my ass these past couple of days. I think I'm kicking whatever I was sick with, but I've been waking up tired, even though I've been getting a good amount of sleep. All in all though, the visit was a much needed reprieve.
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| Hurry! Hurry! Hurry! |
[20 Dec 2003|12:29pm] |
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you are Alucard...
man, wolf, bat, mist-- Alucard is one versatile dude. he has a myriad of shiny guns, and he wears his sunglasses at night. he is hellsing's secret weapon; he enjoys exterminating pathetic vampire wannabes. |
| Which Hellsing Character Are You? |
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| They never beleive you till they see it in print... |
[26 May 2003|05:50pm] |
Yo, Ayatollahs!
Commentary by Maureen Dowd for The New York Times
The C.I.A. is snooping around itself and other spy agencies to see if prewar reports of Iraqi weapons of mass destruction and ties to Al Qaeda were exaggerated.
The suspense is killing me.
The delicious part is that the review was suggested by Donald Rumsfeld, a main culprit in twisting the intelligence to justify a strike on Baghdad. It's like O. J. vowing to find the real killer.
When the C.I.A. reports weren't incriminating enough about Saddam last fall, Rummy started his own little C.I.A. within the Pentagon to ferret out information to back up the hawks' imperial schemes. It will be interesting to see how a man who never admits he's wrong wriggles out of admitting he's wrong, after his investigation fingers him for hyping.
When Colin Powell went to the U.N. in February to make the case for attacking Iraq, he raised the specter of 25,000 liters of anthrax, tons of chemical weapons and a dictator on the brink of a nuclear bomb.
Flash forward to May. Stymied U.S. arms inspectors are getting ready to leave Iraq, having uncovered moldy vacuum cleaners, pesticides and playground equipment, but nary a WMD. Those jungle gyms can be treacherous. One of the weapons hunters compared his work to a Scooby-Doo mystery ? stuff seems pretty scary at first, but then turns out to be explainable.
Even before the war, some C.I.A. analysts and British spymasters were complaining of puffed-up intelligence. Now Congress wants to know if it was flawed as well.
As Representative Jane Harman, the ranking Democrat on the House intelligence committee, put it: "This could conceivably be the greatest intelligence hoax of all time."
Her innocence is touching.
The Iraq WMD's and ties to Al Qaeda were merely MacGuffins, as Alfred Hitchcock called devices that drove the plot but were otherwise inconsequential.
The plot was always to remake the Middle East, while remaking a Bush into a Reagan. And the Bushies were not above playing on American fears and desire for 9/11 payback.
Far from being chagrined about the little problem of having no casus belli, and no plan for smoothly delivering Pax Americana to Iraq and Afghanistan, the hawks are hawking the next regime change. If Iraq was not harboring Al Qaeda and going nuclear, then certainly Iran is.
"Of course, they have senior Al Qaeda in Iran, that's a fact," Rummy said at the Pentagon briefing on Wednesday. "Iran is one of the countries that is, in our view, assessed as developing a nuclear capability, and that's unfortunate."
Bushies were also hinting that Iran may have been involved in the attack on a Western compound in Saudi Arabia ? before our intelligence sources are sure. And the U.S. cannot let Iran foment desire in Iraq for a Shiite fundamentalist government.
Citing newspaper reports that said one of the organizers of the Saudi attacks was hiding in Iran, Bill Kristol beat the drum on Fox News: "Indeed, bin Laden's son is probably in Iran. And that looks like the place where they are reconstituting Al Qaeda. Plus, Iran has been a larger sponsor of terror, including perhaps the terror, indirectly at least, that hit Jerusalem today. Are you willing to get serious about Iran?" (Mr. Kristol is obviously ready to watch another war from his living room.)
The administration is panicky about Iran's nuclear program, which the mullahs threw into overdrive after America attacked Iraq.
Some neo-cons would like Israel to take out Iran's nuclear reactor, as it did Iraq's in '81; but Israel wants America to do it. Some are pushing shah nostalgia, suggesting that Reza Pahlavi, the son of the last shah of Iran, could be the next Chalabi.
The Taliban and Al Qaeda are resurgent; Afghanistan and Iraq are a mess; the vice police are back arresting women in Afghanistan and looters are tearing up archeological sites in Iraq; Saddam and Osama are still wanted, dead or alive. Yet the MacGuffin has moved on.
It is paradoxical that the hawks were passionate about breeding idealism by bringing democracy to the Middle East, but are unconcerned about breeding cynicism by refusing to admit mistakes or overreaching.
By the time the C.I.A. delivers its report, it will be time to investigate how our intelligence was hyped in the prelude to the strike on Iran. ??
Copyright 2003 The New York Times Company
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[22 May 2003|09:04pm] |
I remember watching the world series with my family one year when I was very young, maybe four years old. It was late in the game, when suddenly I blurted out: "he's going to hit a fly-ball, but the pitcher's gonna drop it." Sure enough, thats precisely what happened on the next pitch. I kept doing that for the next four pitches-- I was right on all of them, except for the last. I said he'd hit a grounder to the second baseman, and they'd get it to first before the runner could tag the base. The ball went to the short-stop instead.
To this day, I don't even know why I did that. I know I kept doing it because my family thought it was amazing. But I don't remember why I said the first play to begin with.
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| The adventures of the Slackmaster-General |
[17 May 2003|06:51pm] |
Ok, so here's how my week went... it honestly feels like it's been a month...
Friday the 9th to Monday the 12th
The friday of the previous week I was supposed to get my thesis in to Professor Farrell for revisions. Except that it was still about 8 pages short. The entire weekend was spent desperately trying to compose those last pages of the thesis. I slept maybe 6 hours in 60. I had essentially come to my conclusion early... I managed to get 4 pages over the weekend, but come sunday night I not only had 4 pages to go... I also had a 10 page paper to write for another class. My original intention was to finish the thesis, first and foremost, and then do that last paper.
Well, the Death, Burial and the Afterlife in the Biblical World paper was due by 9:30 am on monday morning... so I spent sunady night doing that. It was easier than I thought, and Mike Kingsley gave me an even better idea for a topic than the one I had previously decided on (well, he more gave me a poigniant focus for the paper, using the original topic). So I ran down and slipped that under professor Hallote's door. Went back to my car to drive home and finish up my thesis before 4pm (my first final of the week, and the instructor was my Senior Project sponsor, so I had to have it by then or that was it, no graduation).
My car wouldn't start.
So there I am in the parking lot of my school, trying to put the right ammount of pressure on the key when I turned it to get the starter to work right. My starter's like that these days. No electrical problems, it just doesnt like to start unless I coo it and stroke it and tell it I'm it's bitch.
Car starts finally... so I head back to my house and start working on my paper. I got back around 9:30... and up until 4 o clock I was struggling to get those four last pages done... I finally finish up... I go to print...
The printer jams. I can't print the damned thing on my old computer... so my only choice is to slap it on a disk and print it out at school. So I do that and head out to my car.
Again, it won't start. By the time it does, I'm already hiddeously late for my final. I finish the final about an hour after it was supposed to end and went and printed out my thesis in the compute rlab. Handed it to Farrell, went home feeling dejected because he and I both knew that if the paper didn't hold together, that was it, I didn't graduate.
And those last few pages were CRAP.
Tuesday the 13th
Tuesday I had no tests, so I rest up after having had very little sleep over the weekend. My aunt Rosa Maria, my cousin Gaby, and their friend Oscar, his wife and son showed up to stay for the week, so I took them out to lunch... we ate at this nice little Ecuadorian place on Main Street. We get back to the house, and theres a message from professor Farrel about my thesis. But my father took the message, and he wasn't home. So I called up the professor and asked what was up-- he suprisied me by saying that the thesis held up rather well, with only minor grammatical errors to contend with (and even those were sparse... about six or seven spread across 40 pages, most of them, oddly, on page 27).
So all I need to do is get done is sort out those problems, make my footnotes more precise, get a more sturdy bibliography, and get my cover sheet signed. Two problems. 1) Professor farrel has jury duty, so he won't be around till graduation... too late to sign the paper. But theres hope: he can be in to sign the paper that night... but I had to get the cover sheet too him within 2 hours. The other problem, 2) I needed a second reader to sign it.
But one problem at a time...
I rushed in to the school library and found out the specs on the cover sheet... very precise specifications, but nothing too hard. Of course, first the lady gave me the specs for an Art & Design cover sheet. Then for a Natural Sciences cover sheet. Finally I got one that worked for BA Humanities. I went to the computer lab to type it up... except the printer was broken there... so I had to type it into a computer in the back room.
I got it into a manila envelope and taped it to Professor Farrell's office door. Went home, and spent the night fixing up my thesis, making it presentable. I didn't get any sleep that night, but that was ok, I needed to get my thesis done.
The other problem was simple to fix... Professor Farrell would give me a note along with the signed paper (which I would pick up on his door the next day, Wednesday) that would basically say "Michael's done the work on his senior thesis, and all that stands in the way of his graduating is the signature from a second reader" so i could explain my case to another Philosophy professor and get them to sign on as my second reader. Then I'd just have to fix up the footnotes and such and hand the whole thing in and be done with it.
Wednesday the 14th
Wednesday I went in about 9:30am (my last exam was at 7pm) and went to get my cover sheet from the envelope on Farrel's door.
It wasn't signed. No note was in the envelope.
Turns out that he couldn't make it that evening as planned. So there I was... I had no thesis cover page, which was ESSENTIAL. It proved that my thesis had been looked over and approved. How could I go to a professor and act them to act as second reader without that letter?
I poked my head into professor Kaplan's door... but he was busy as hell, and not a minute later another student with a schedualed appointment showed up. So I ducted out and basically spent the rest of the day fretting over what I was going to do. I had NEITHER of the signatures I needed, and it didn't seem like I could get either.
So I went and printed out my revised thesis (my printer had jammed AGAIN).
Then I bumped into professor Miller in the hallway. She was my original second reader, but i've had a hell of a time trying to get together with her to work on the Hsunsian aspects of my paper. She asked how the thesis was going, and i explained my situation. She agreed to act as second reader, except she wouldn't be able to get to it until AFTER graduation. So While I could walk with the rest of the graduating class, my diploma wouldn't be in till august.
Well, that was better than nothing. I dropped of a copy of the thesis with her. At four, there was a procession, a tradition at my school, when all of the seniors walk their thesises down to the library and hand them in amidst a shower of confetty and cheers. I stood on the sideline... I could have walked, but I wouldn't have felt right-- my thesis hadn't been done yet... because it didn't have the cover sheet signed.
After that, I waited for my exam at 7... I was so fucking tired at that point, since the night before had been spent making sure my thesis was in presentable order, although now, it seemed like that wouldn't matter. I passed with a 68 (it was an anatomy test, and I ended up with an overall grade of a B in the class, so I'm happy) Then went home, thuroughly exausted. There had been another message from Farrell: apparently, he couldn't make it the evening before, but he could make it Thursday morning... and he had called professor Kaplan and professor Haskins and explained the situation. So suddenly, there was hope...
Except that Marjorie Miller had agreed to be my second reader. Now I had a moral dillema: I could go behind Marjorie's back and get one of te other members of the philosophy board to sign... but Marjorie had agreed to help me, even though it was a lot of trouble for her. There was so much pressure to graduate, but I didn't know if I could do such a shitty thing to Marjorie... let me explain: Professor Miller is a sweet woman who's always been something of a second mother to all of the kids who were in my "Beginnings" program... essentially an experimental learnign community that brought a bunch of students into the college as a unit: we dormed together on the same hall, we went to the same classes the first semester, we were able to take a wonderful course: The Bible as Literature, which was an extremely powerful experience for all of us (suddenly, we found out that it was OK to disagree with the bible AND appreciate it as wonderful literature at the same time).
Essentially, Marjorie had been there with us at every step of the way as we progressed as students, always helping us when we needed help. And now, I was going to do someting that basically said "Its more important for me to graduate than to earn your respect." That was something I wasn't sure I could stomach. But in the end, I decided that sometimes, you have to do things for yourself, and that may be hurtful to other people, but its your life. So I decided to get Moris Kaplan to sign the title page and that would be that. I would apologize to Professor Miller, and explain that it wasn't anything personal. I just had to get it over with.
Thursday the 15th
The next day (thursday), I arrived at the commencement rehersal... half an hour of basically telling us what we were gonna be doing. After that I went to Morris Kaplan's office... the door was shut. I waited for about half an hour before Professor Haskins showed up and I asked if Kaplan would be in. He said no... but I could get his number from the Humanities office. I went... and they told me they didn't give out home numbers. Ok... that was that... my last option was to talk to professor Haskins. I did, and after discussing the thesis with him, he agreed to sign it. With that, my graduation was secured. I rushed it to the library, handed it in, got my reciept...
Firday the 16th
The graduation ceremony was shorter than most, I think. Only a few hundred graduates. I wore my special blue shoes... my graduation shoes... and I had Maximon, the patron saint of Sex, Drugs and Rock n' Roll in my pocket the whole time... he needed to say good bye to a few of my friends.
Its strange... I don't feel any different. I didn't feel any excitement or nervousness. I only felt a little nervous AFTER i had graduated. Then, all of a sudden, the anxiety hit me like a ton of bricks. I can't explain that.
Even now, I don't really feel excited. I'm releived to be done with everything... but its amazing how little that degree really signifies. I'm not saying it won't be an advantage in life. But it doesn't really represent anything;, it's just a merit badge I can wave around... "Look, I'm edumucated."
Except, even if I werent, I'd have the same merit badge. I feel so ambivalent toward it.
But I'm happy I have it. I'm just finding it difficult to be proud of myself. Even the pride of my family seemed lack-luster. My cousin Matt didn't even take half a day off from work to come out and see it. I guess a philosophy degree is less prestigious than communications.
I don't mean that they weren't proud... they were, very much. But I couldn't touch that pride... it wasn't tangible to me. There was always a sense of awe I had at graduations... my sisters, my aunt's, my cousin's... like it was imporant... it was a turning point in life.
At my own, I didn't feel anything.
Somehow, I know that if Kim had been there, things would have been different. I should have asked her to come out... paid for airfair for her and Jeremiah. It was just such a rush to get my thesis in... I guess I didn't want to drag her and Jeremiah all the way out here if I wasn't really going to be graduating. Now I wish I had though.
Dinner at Abis was a delight, though. In all, I'm happier now than I have been in the past couple of weeks, and thats what matters most :)
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