Waiting

I'm waiting to become a teacher, a math teacher in high school to be exact. I felt a twinge of jealousy when I saw an e-mail at work announcing a coworker was leaving to pursue her teaching credential.

I'm waiting to save enough money so that I'm not confined by money, but I realize such a pursuit is inexact at best. Only I know how much money I need, but determining that means knowing what I can let go of. Must snowboarding... must it become a casualty in pursuit of the greater good?

I'm waiting to realize where I want to live. The Bay Area has been interesting, but I think it's largely a soulless land, patrolled by self absorbed people racing to get the next dollar. In fact, if I stay here long enough, I might become one of those people, I already see some of the symptoms in myself.

I'm waiting for that morning when I awake from a sound sleep and have the clarity of vision to see who I am. The type of sleep where the cool night breeze washes over my body from the open window, and the moonlight ripples in a contoured band across my wife's thigh; where I awake and the morning sun is still pale and below the back hedge.

I'm waiting for my wife to find her true passion, to find a pursuit where her talent truly shines, and she is happy with what she does.

I'm waiting to ride a bicycle over the hill near my house. To endure the acidic pain of climbing the steep grades and revel as the air and road rush by on the way down.

I'm waiting to backpack in Yellowstone, to feel the edgy rush of adrenaline as an unknown predator is detected nearby. To see the rarely viewed vistas accessible only through the work of diligent mountain goats, wearing a thin catwalk in the mountain stone.

I'm waiting to surf the ocean, the feel the board beneath my feet, the spray on my body, and the roar of the curling ocean in my head.

I'm waiting...

Power to the People

The top Google searches that led people to this site. My favorite is the last, not only are people looking for such deviance, but they were led here. 1 6 66.67% dystopia 2 1 11.11% debbie schlussel 3 1 11.11% penis growth fake 4 1 11.11% snowballing movies

Hygiene

What is up with people who take a crap and leave the bathroom without washing their hands? I mean Jesus, it's one thing if you take a piss without spraying your hands, and you've washed your crotch in the past twenty four hours -- opting out of a hand washing is a forgivable offense. But to to take a full on duke, and scrub away with reams of toilet paper, smearing unknown amounts of fecal contaminants on your hands, it's just plain wrong.

Please carry on with your normal activities.

Beaver Juice

Vienna sits down at the table across from me. I look over at the condiments on the right side, including "Beaver Horseradish" and "Hot & Spicy Beaver Sauce".

Me: There's something disturbing about a condiment named "Beaver Sauce". Vienna: Have you ever eaten "Beaver"? Me: Many times. Vienna: What does "Beaver" taste like? Me: Depends on what she ate. Vienna: Where do you get "Beaver"? Me: I... I can't do this anymore.

A few moments pass...

Vienna: Ohhhh...

Footloose

So I made this "Classic Metal" (pronounce in a booming, reverberating voice) CD with the CD burner on the new PC. It's funny, but although I've burned CDs for work, I've never used one for something cool, like ummm, music. Anyway, I'm listening to it at work (Megadeth, Corrosion of Conformity, Slayer, Judas Priest, Pantera, Lords of Acid, Iron Maiden, Type O Negative, etc.) and when I put down the headphones, the soundtrack of my mind gets stuck on "Hella Good" (pbwooooo!), which you might have guessed was not on the CD. Anyway, I get this irresistible urge to start doing the white man, jogging in place, chicken wing flapping dance in my cube and eventually succumb and start herkin and jerkin away by myself. Really.

Sigh...

You would think that after seeing my wife almost everyday for eight years that I wouldn't miss her if she left for a few weeks. However, it's been less then a day (she's still on the plane) since she left for Bangladesh and I miss her already. Going home after work to an empty house (nothing personal gatos) seems decidedly creepy. Marriage has wrecked my life I tell you; I'm not the bachelor I used to be, sitting on a beach chair in an empty apartment watching a tv that sat on the floor. Now I'm ... dependent.

We said our farewells this morning, with Tempest's misty eyed, head to the side embrace. You don't know what you have until it's gone (at least temporarily).

Alter-Ego?

There's this guy who is the boyfriend of my friend at work. Once a week or so I'll check to see if he has written in his blog. He's an interesting person to me because I relate to him in certain ways, even though a comparison on paper would portray us as quite different. It's very weird, even uncomfortable, to have this kind of one way relationship with someone -- sometimes I feel like I'm spying on this fellow even though he's the one sharing his thoughts.

We interrupt this introspection with a tangential observation: By this site linking to his sight it will cause his sight to rise further in the Google rankings, which apparently worries him.

Anyway, before I went to college, I was into music and could play several instruments, but for some reason didn't pursue it to the next level. None the less, I still enjoy reading or hearing about people in the music profession, sometimes more so then listening to the music they play. I also wish I had the balls to not have a job, but I just freak the instant I imagine myself without a job or a steady paycheck. I wish I didn't, but something has been ingrained in me, not a sense of responsibilty, but close, that makes me need a job. The point of all this inane babbling is that I could have been Jim Batcho. I had all the prerequisites, but for some reason, a butterfly flapped its wings in Peru or Venus wasn't quite in alignment, and the track junction switched to a different path. It's not that I wish (or don't wish) I was this guy, but it's odd to read about someone who has the same primordial ooze in his blood.

For the record, I've never met him, and it would funny if he's the total opposite of me in reality and everything I'm thinking is total bullshit. I think "What the fuck?" sums it up, there's no way to tell from reading a blog.

P.S. I am convinced that Jim Batcho is a fictional name. I've been told it's not but I don't care what anyone says.

Damn

I started reading the book "Germs, Guns, and Steel" and, after thirty minutes, all I could think is "Damn, this guy (the author) has actually done something with his life. What am I going to do with my life that matches or exceeds the effort and thought he has put into words?".

Rock!

This site is now ranked #11 on Google when searching for dystopia.

Various Shit

The Lost Coast was hella good, only because my brother and I kept singing the No Doubt song "Hella Good" over and over to each other (pbooooow). There are other far superior descriptions of what it's like then what I could provide here. I'd rather share some other thoughts I had -- walking on the coastline over the sand, the scree, the talus and boulders, and dashing past the incoming surf brought a number of metaphors related to my career choice to mind.

• Sometimes the sand and scree make you feel like you're not even moving but as you persevere and ignore fatigue, progress comes. Could this mean I should keep my current job, even thought I don't currently like it?
• After a long and brutal day of over 15 miles and 4,000 feet of elevation, we decided to bush whack down a canyon and get to the ocean. Unfortunately, we had a lousy map with little detail and couldn't tell if the canyon was passable. Taking a chance, we navigated it, found the ocean, and claimed an awesome camp site for the night. This leads me to believe that taking chances can lead to greater rewards.
• We ran out of water one day and had to do the last four miles dry and in scorching heat. If things aren't planned properly, things can go from bad to worse.
• There was a large shipwreck on the coast, the stern section lay upside down on the rocky shore with its propeller aimed skyward. It seems failure is inevitable, the important thing is how to recover and grow beyond it.

To summarize, I'm not sure what I'm doing, but my mind is turning furiously at all hours trying to get a handle on who I'm supposed to be. Maybe the point is to just try and know, while realizing such a goal is unattainable; the formula to derive your identity will never exist.

Fast Times at Ridgemont High

So the transition of jobs is progressing and I have the first round of interviews tomorrow. It was amusing to get a call from someone in marketing asking me to attend a meeting now that "they finally hired someone for the position". I had to remind her that, while I would come to the meeting, she still had to interview me before I could start the job.

My Turn to Break

I'm being the brave man and setting things in motion. Although I was nervous talking to the big mama boss, she was quite receptive and offered me more possibilities then I had even considered. The only somewhat unsettling thing was her shirt was unbuttoned about two buttons too low; not that I care but it was surprising and somewhat distracting. I started wondering if the meeting would become a scene from a late night Cinemax movie were I have to please her to get what I want.

Never the less, the meeting was a positive sign but I'm still exercising self control by not telling my immediate bosses, even though one of them uncharacteristically asked me how things were today. It almost killed me to say "fine".

On a side note, I am addicted to Grand Theft Auto III. I really enjoy games that let me act out violent and sadistic behavior. I've yet to determine what that means.

Hmmm...

Sometimes I feel like I'm trying to live a real life. A life full of meaning where I'm doing things I like and I have a plan for the future. The only problem is I don't and I feel like I'm pretending I do. I need to get out of this funk, but it's a little overwhelming right now. I want to change my job but I'm not sure if I should. I haven't figured out what I really want to do with my life. My brother is moving away and my best friend at work is leaving to do what she wants to do. Today I went to the doctor and was naked while he and a medical student examined me in that weird, detached, I'm not here way that doctors sometimes do. I'm tired of working with people who have nothing in common with me on such a grand scale I previously thought it impossible.

I have an talk/interview with another group at work coming up next week. I'm also going to talk to the big boss to get some advice on the whole mess. I had an omen today when I heard on the television "Brave men do not live forever, but the overly cautious never live at all". It's somewhat of a cliche, but I'll take what I can get the way today has been.

For some reason, I'm thinking about the "Shawshank Redemption" where Red is talking about Andy's escape and he says something like "His presence was like a pretty caged bird and it made me happy, but in the end, I knew seeing him free was the right thing to do". It's frightening to me that I'm using metaphors from a prison movie to relate with my work experience.